An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Characters: Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Jack Zimmermann, Original Child Character(s)
Additional Tags: Future Fic, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, older!zimbits, Bitty and Jack trying to be supportive dads as only they can
Summary:
Unrequited crushes are never easy. Especially when your kid is going through one.
What? More domestic older!zimbits fluff? Guilty as charged.
It’s late when they get back to their hotel, the floor quiet as Jack pulls the keycard out of his pocket and swipes into their room. If Jack were still playing, their hallway would be filled with the sounds of exultant hockey players, high off of a playoff season overtime win, chirping each other across the hall and slamming doors. But Jack’s GM now, and he always makes sure his assistant books his room on a different floor.
The room is dark, illuminated by the lights of the city, visible through not-quite-opaque curtains. Bitty should have turned on the entryway light before he left for the game. He hadn’t counted on getting back this late, or drinking just enough to make everything seem just a little off balance. He trips over his own feet and sways into Jack, steadying himself against Jack’s left bicep.
“Easy, bud,” Jack chuckles, and Bitty can tell Jack’s already starting to loosen his tie as they stumble their way to the bed. Jack won’t turn on the light, not now, but Bitty’s eyes have begun to adjust.
Bitty leaves Jack to undress while he cautiously approaches his own suitcase. “Oof,” he gasps as he bumps his shin against the dresser.
Jack snickers. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for something to sleep in,” Bitty whispers. “Can’t see a darn thing in here.”
“Leave it. Just come to bed.”
Bitty knows what that means. Lord knows Jack must be tired—his job is more mental than physical now, but he still takes his hockey as seriously as he ever did—but they’ve got one kid-free night in this hotel before they head back to Providence for the next game in the series, and Jack clearly wants to take advantage of it.
Bitty steps out of his pants and pulls his jersey (“Zimmermann,” always and forever) over his head, depositing it on the treacherous dresser. “If you’d’ve told me twenty years ago that I’d be celebrating a win by going to bed with a chubby old man, I’d have told you that sounds about as likely as going to bed with my hockey captain,” he quips as he crawls into bed beside Jack. “Who knew it’d be the same guy?”
“Hey,” Jack says. “That’s not fair.” He pauses, considering. “I mean, the first part is accurate, but who are you calling an old man?”
Bitty snickers. “Honey, those rookies out there are technically young enough to be our kids. I think we officially crossed that line a while ago.” He stretches out against Jack, pointing and flexing his toes against Jack’s calf and wincing at how tight his own right calf feels. He’s not as limber as he used to be, even with the yoga class he tries to make it to once a week.
“Were we ever that young? Or that dumb?” Jack asks. Bitty knows he’s thinking of the boys who were still at the bar when they left.
“You’re right,” Bitty agrees. “You were never young. You’ve been an old man since the day we met. You just look the part now.” He pokes Jack’s belly, softer now that Jack’s job description no longer includes “working out for hours every day.”
Bitty had thought Jack, of all people, would take the aches and pains and extra weight that came with aging harder than the rest of their old Samwell crew, but it’s Shitty who’s self-conscious about his thinning hair, Bitty who can’t quite get used to the fine lines around his own eyes that become more prominent with each passing year. Jack, out of all of them, seems more himself than he ever has. Steadfast and centered and calm in a way he wasn’t when he was still playing hockey. Jack’s still anxious by nature, worries about their kids and his team and their aging parents. But even if he’d never admit it, Bitty knows there’s a peace that’s come with no longer feeling like he has to live up to a legacy.
“Speaking of our kids, did my parents ever send any updates from home?”
“Your mom texted at the beginning of the third period,” Bitty says, remembering. “After they finally got them in bed. Apparently your dad let them have two desserts. So we’ll have fun dealing with that new expectation when we get home.”
“It’s fine,” Jack murmurs. “It’s summer vacation.”
Bitty bites back a smile. Forget being married to Jack Zimmermann; his twenty-year-old-self would never in a million years have guessed Jack, of all people, would be the parent who condones second dessert. “That’s what your mom said your dad said.”
“Are you saying I’m turning into my dad? You’re ruthless tonight. A few drinks and the truth comes out, eh Bittle?”
“Don’t we all turn into our parents at some point, though?” Bitty wonders. “Lord knows I spend enough time yelling at college football refs on TV.”
“I knew Ellie didn’t get that from me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bitty demurs. Launching a Southern-tinged tirade at the ref who made a bad call at her brother’s first hockey game? Couldn’t be his daughter.
Jack is silent beside Bitty, and Bitty wonders if he’s changed his mind about what he wants to do tonight. Could be that the long day and post-game festivities they hadn’t planned on attending have finally caught up to him. Now that he’s in bed, Bitty’s definitely feeling the weight of the day settle over him. So Bitty rolls onto his back and lets himself melt into the mattress. He closes his eyes as Jack draws quiet breaths beside him but it’s a ruse, designed to throw Bitty off balance or maybe give himself time to muster a second wind, because Jack’s shifting beside him now, relaxation clearly the last thing on his mind.
“Can an old man do this?” Jack asks, and before Bitty can reply, Jack, in one swift motion, slips a hand under Bitty and rolls him on top of him so they’re face to face. A giggle, unbidden, rises up form Bitty’s chest and Jack clamps a hand over his mouth. “Shh. You’ll wake the neighbors.”
Bitty lightly bites down on Jack’s finger before dissolving into more giggles. “Mr. Zimmermann, you really should not have gotten me drunk if you wanted this to be quiet.”
“Funny, I seem to remember being the one to warn to you not to have that third drink,” is Jack’s dry response.
“Ugh. We’re gonna be useless in the morning.”
“It’s not morning, yet,” Jack says, hand drifting toward the waistband of Bitty’s boxer briefs. They’re chest-to-chest, a favorite position of Bitty’s because he likes to see Jack’s face. Especially during playoff season. Jack’s playoff beard is more salt-and-pepper than it used to be and it does things to Bitty.
They’re alone, in a slightly uncomfortable hotel bed, and whatever twenty-year-old Eric Bittle thought a romance with Jack Zimmermann might entail, he was wrong. It definitely didn’t look like this. They’ve grown into this, together, and it’s better than any fantasy.
Zimbits, aging, and the mortifying ordeal of being known (especially by the one who loves you best)
I posted this little Zimbits ficlet the other day, which was inspired by this post by @weneedtotalkaboutfic, and it got me thinking about some of my older!Zimbits headcanons that I draw on when I'm writing future fic but have never really shared in one place. So, here are some headcanons about Bitty and Jack, specifically as they relate to how they handle getting older and the inevitable changes that accompany that. (Warning, talk of body image, diet culture, and other less desirable aspects of getting older.)
Jack, being older and in a profession that really takes a toll on his body, is the first to experience everything. At first it sneaks up on him. Is his ankle stiff because he's spent a lifetime playing hockey, or is that just something everybody experiences when they hit their thirties?
(A little of both, actually. There are definitely old hockey injuries that he just feels, all the time, but sometimes he'll sleep the wrong way and his neck will be stiff for a week. Or his knees will twinge when he has to get down on the floor and reach under the couch for a lost dog toy.)
Jack retires and puts on a little weight and at first it makes his anxiety flare. He's been on one sort of "diet" or another since he was a young teenager (first to lose weight, then to build muscle and stay in peak playing condition) and it's kind of scary to relinquish that control.
(I have this headcanon that Jack's parents tried to shield him from the worst of the criticism he received simply for existing as a child of two famous people, and didn't pressure him to be a certain way, but eventually he internalized the comments about how awkward and strange looking he was. They stuck with him. At some point when he's a young teenager he overhears a hockey coach or one of his father's friends complimenting his game and adding that if he were to lose the weight he'd be even better at hockey, and that sort of kickstarts his obsession with protein and calories and eating the "right" kind of foods. But to young Jack it's not about losing weight or looking "good," it's about being better at hockey.)
So relinquishing that control after actual decades is scary, but it's also kind of freeing. The alternative would be to spend hours a day working out or turn down Bitty's desserts, and Jack is not about that life. Have you tried Bitty's desserts?
(It helps that Bitty genuinely loves the way Jack looks at every stage of life, and doesn't hesitate to tell him. It also helps that their kids have never known him any other way and now that his body is built for snuggling toddlers instead of winning hockey games? It's actually pretty great.)
Bitty didn't think Jack could get any more handsome but once he starts going gray (silver, really)? He's so handsome Bitty can't stand it. Like, he's seen Jack's parents, he knows he has good genes, but mid-40s Jack is next level. Bitty regularly congratulates his 20-year-old self for having such good taste.
So Jack, for the most part, really leans into aging. It's Bitty who has a harder time with it. He's not insecure as much as he's just indignant that this has to happen.
With good reason though, since he's a TV personality. The camera doesn't lie. He's hyperaware of every line on his face and the slightest fluctuations in his weight.
Bitty's always looked younger than his age, so it's a rude awakening the first time he doesn't get carded while buying alcohol. Yes, he also complained when he was still getting carded at 28. It's the principle of the thing!
Bitty knows better, but he always falls for slick marketing campaigns, so he has a bathroom cabinet full of fancy anti-aging creams and expensive facial washes.
(Jack uses them too, but only because they're there and they smell good. He doesn't actually know what they're supposed to do, or how much money Bitty spends on them. Jack is just as happy to wash his face with the free bars of soap he gets in hotels.)
Bitty gets Botox once, right before filming on the new season of his show starts up, and Jack and their now-teenage kids gently chirp him about it. ("Are you mad at us, Dad? You sound mad but we can't tell because your face isn't moving.")
Every so often Bitty will dramatically declare he's going on a diet and cuts something--carbs, dairy, sugar, whatever evil he decides is the source of his woes--out completely. This never lasts more than two weeks, and Jack and the kids are always very relieved when he comes to his senses and starts baking again.
Bitty is also overly dramatic about the slightest ache or pain. He tweaks his back at a Zumba class and it's the end of the world. Jack, who thanks to hockey has lived with some baseline level of discomfort since his mid-twenties, isn't afraid to call him out. ("I'm dying, Jack!" "Take some Advil, put the heating pad on it, and make an appointment with the chiropractor in the morning.")
Okay, so maybe Bitty is a little insecure. This is Bitty of the Bitty's Better Booty Bureau, after all. He just needs a little reassurance once in a while. Which Jack is always happy to provide.
Because at the end of the day, Jack is still absolutely attracted to Bitty. He's hot, yeah, but his confidence and competence is also really sexy. Bitty's worked hard to get to the point in his career where people consider him a leader in his field. Jack accompanies him to awards shows and charity dinners and somehow it's not as bad as when he was the one in the spotlight because Bitty just shines. And even with all he has going on, he still finds time to whip up 200 cupcakes for the PTA on a moment's notice.
Those short shorts Bitty used to wear that drove Jack to distraction? Yes, he still has them. No, he doesn't wear them in public anymore. They're strictly a bedroom-only thing. Maybe he'll wear them around the house if the kids aren't home. Yes, they still drive Jack to distraction.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/?
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter, Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi
Additional Tags: older!zimbits, widower bob zimmermann, Bakery AU, older zimbits au, aging parents, alicia is gone, Bob lives with Jack, Falling In Love, teenaged frogs, Jack figuring things out, fathers and sons, background Nursey/Dex, Friends to Lovers, 44-year-old Jack, 39-year-old Bitty, finding happiness, past Jack/Camilla, Happy Ending, cancer mention, coach is also gone, Slow-ish burn
Summary: At age 44, NHL legend, Jack Zimmermann, knows three things for sure: retirement is boring, love is probably not in the cards for him, and his aging father makes a pretty good roommate. When the bakery "Bits of Heaven" opens up down the street, Jack finds that a happily ever after is possible—even late in the game.
Summary: At age 44, NHL legend, Jack Zimmermann, knows three things for sure: retirement is boring, love is probably not in the cards for him, and his aging father makes a pretty good roommate. When the bakery "Bits of Heaven" opens up down the street, Jack finds that a happily ever after is possible—even late in the game. For @doggernaut who gave me this Older!Zimbits prompt: Recently retired Jack, bored, sees a Help Wanted sign in the bakery he's been stopping at every morning... Also on AO3.
Chapter 1: Same Thing Every Day
The tea kettle sang loudly on the stove and roused Jack from the blank daydream he was currently having. He snapped out of it completely and turned off the oven. He mindlessly poured the boiling water into two mugs and plunked a tea bag into each one. The smell of earl grey tea wafted toward his nose.
Jack scratched at his beard as the water became a rich, dark brown and after a few minutes, he added a splash of cream and teaspoon of sugar into one of the mugs.
“Here you go, papa,” Jack said as he placed the tea with cream and sugar in front of Bob who sat in the living room.
“Thanks, son,” Bob said and gingerly took a sip.
It had been two years since Alicia passed away. Cancer was a terrible thing that didn’t care how loved someone was; it took without pity and remorse. It made sense for Jack to have his 77-year-old father, come and live with him in Providence. Jack had been divorced from Camilla for five years now, and his place was way too big for one person. After Jack retired four years ago, at the respectable age of 40, his home felt even bigger somehow. With Alicia gone, it was just the Zimmermann men, together, making their way each day.
“How’s the knee doing today? I can tell it’s going to be a damp one, today,” Bob said taking an Oreo cookie from a small plate on the coffee table and glancing at the window. The grey skies swirled and danced outside.
“It’s fine. Not too bad,” Jack said as he gently patted his knee.
Part of the reason for Jack’s retirement was the state of his knee. Had one bad hit not made him land just so, Jack might have played another season or two. And while MCL tears are usually not that big of a deal, Jack had the very rare case of a 3 MCL tear which required surgery. While he could still play, his recovery was longer than most. He figured his body had had enough. It was at that time that Alicia had been diagnosed, and so with three Stanley Cup rings under his belt, the Providence Falconers retired his jersey, and Jack said goodbye to the NHL. He hung up his skates and dedicated his time to his parents.
“So what are you doing today?” Jack asked.
“Same thing I do every day. Try to take over the world,” Bob said with a small wink.
Alicia’s passing had been difficult for everyone, but he knew that no one was even close to feeling the tremendous loss Bob felt. They had been together for fifty years; she was his confidant, best friend, his everything and Jack could see how lost his father still felt. It broke Jack’s heart.
“There’s a Blue Jays game about to start,” Jack said as he scrolled through the TV menu.
“Great, let’s watch,” Bob said and settled in deeper into his armchair.
Jack smiled softly at his father who took another cookie.
+++
The thing about dating was that… it wasn’t as easy as Jack thought it would be. He hadn’t dated since he and Camilla divorced (she had remarried right away and now had a three-year-old boy) and it wasn’t for lack of trying. Marty, Thirdy—even Tater had tried fixing him up with someone on numerous occasions. The thing was if it didn’t work out, and it usually didn’t, it then left Jack in the awkward position of seeing these people at his teammates’ family events. So he stopped being fixed up with friends of friends, and turned to online dating instead, upon Bob’s insistence.
“Jack, we can’t both be single and miserable,” Bob said kindly. “You need to get out there. You’re still young, Jack. No need having two senior citizens in the house.”
“Senior citizen, really? You wound me, father,” Jack said with a small grin.
Bob eyed Jack’s cardigan up and down, over his glasses, and returned to his book without another word.
So Jack set up a Tinder account, and hell, a Grindr one, too, only to be immediately intimidated.
Jack still looked good for his age. He worked out four times a week and made Bob come along with him at least twice a week, but the amount of skin some of the men on Grindr showed made him question his body.
“Brah! Guys half your age wish they looked as good as you do,” Shitty had said over the phone.
Jack poked at his tummy and sighed. “I don’t have six-pack abs anymore.”
“True, but now you can enjoy a six-pack and some cake with your old man and not have a heart attack over it. Plus, you still have that ass that won’t quit.”
Lardo shouted from the background, “Tell him he has nice eyes, too!”
“And Lards says you have an awesome set of peepers, too.”
Jack grinned. “Thanks, man.”
“Hey, what are truthful friends for?” Shitty had said.
Jack logged off Tinder and Grindr for a bit and concentrated on more pressing things as he glanced at his father filling out a New York Times crossword puzzle.
“What’s the capital of Belarus?”
“Minsk,” Jack replied.
“Right, got it,” Bob said as he eagerly pushed up his glasses and scribbled in the answer.
Jack smiled.
One evening, Jack was going out for an early evening walk (he missed running, but oh well) when he noticed that a new shop was finally opening in the empty storefront on Wickenden Street. It wasn't opened yet, but he could see someone inside unpacking and cleaning. He stood, transfixed, gripping his cup of coffee as he watched a man inside alone, working.
Even though he’s stood across the street from the shop, Jack could tell the man was singing. He looked happy. The man’s blond cowlick danced along with him as he moved across the shop, turning and jumping. The man, who seemed to be a few years younger than Jack, paused to wipe his forehead with a dishwashing-gloved hand, and Jack was charmed.
How wonderful to be so happy and living in the moment, loving what you are doing. Jack realized he had a smile on his face and then embarrassment quickly took over as he caught himself spying on this perfect stranger.
He cleared his throat and continued his walk, making a mental note of the shop’s signage. It was a bakery; Bits of Heaven the sign read. Jack makes his way home quietly, with a little pep in his step, as he thinks of the blond stranger.
+++
“Papa, you got invited to Penguins Fan Fest again this year,” Jack said as he shuffled through yesterday’s mail at the breakfast table.
He held up the letter with the familiar gold and black emblem on the stationery.
“You’d think they’d get the hint,” Bob said nonchalantly. “I don’t want to go and be part of their damn dog and pony show.”
“That’s not what they want,” Jack said as Bob rolled his eyes.
“No one wants to see an ancient hockey player. I’m just a novelty act—I still have all my teeth,” Bob said dryly.
“Your fans want to see you,” Jack huffed. “They still love you, you know. They want to see you out and about.”
“All my fans are probably dead.”
“Papa,” Jack frowned.
Bob waved him off and tucked into his omelet.
“Speaking of being out and about. Have you thought about getting a job yet?” Bob asked as he pointed his fork at Jack.
“What, am I freeloading or something?”
“You’re probably worth more than me now,” Bob chuckled. “No, I just think you should get out and do something. You were on the You Can Playboard for such a short amount of time, I'd thought you would have been more interested and stayed on longer.”
“It was okay…”
“But?”
“But nothing.”
“You need to be out doing something, Jack. You have a history degree for crying out loud.”
“I know,” Jack said and held his hands up in surrender. “Look, when I find the perfect job, I promise I’ll give it a go, okay?”
A few weeks passed, and Jack kept his eye on Bits of Heaven. Every evening during his walk, he'd stroll by to watch the shop's progress. One night, the blond man stood outside the shop’s front door holding a shiny silver tray.
“Sample? I promise you, it's a bit of heaven,” he said.
“Oh,” Jack said awkwardly as he took a small plastic dish. “You've opened?”
“Next week! I'm just out here meeting the neighbors, saying hi.”
Jack nodded and stuffed the tiny chunk of pie into his mouth.
“It's delicious,” he mumbled through the crumbs as the man laughed.
“Good to hear! Well, please be sure to stop by next week for our official grand opening.”
Jack grinned, but he could feel it looking more like a grimace than anything else. He nodded and quickly walked away.
He made it back to the condo just as Bob was pulling some steaks out of the oven.
“Did you see that the bakery on Wickenden is finally opening?” Jack asked.
“Ooo, I can’t wait to try it. It looks like pie is their specialty.”
“I just tried some. The owner—or at least I think it was the owner—was outside giving samples. I tried the apple pie.”
“Was it good?” Bob asked excitedly.
Jack flashed his father a thumbs up.
“Hot diggety dog! Can’t wait.”
“It’ll just be nice to have another coffee option in the neighborhood,” Jack said as he remembered the blond man’s smile.
+++
Jack waited until almost closing time before he descended onto Bits of Heaven. He wanted to avoid the crowds—not so much because of his anxiety but because he didn’t want to deal with anyone recognizing him. An occasional person here or there was fine, but a giant group would have a domino effect, and he didn’t want to deal with a mob that evening.
He walked through the door, and a little bell chimed. There were a few people at tables digging into their pie, and some kids were chatting. Apparently, they worked there as they wore Bits of Heaven t-shirts.
“Hey, you came back!” the blond man said as he emerged from behind the counter. He wiped his hands on his apron and smiled at Jack. “I just put out one final batch of chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven. Would you like one?”
“Oh, sure. Thanks. Can I also get a small black coffee?”
“You got it, mister.”
“Jack,” he supplied as he handed over a ten dollar bill.
The man smiled. “One black coffee and a chocolate chip cookie coming right up for Mister Jack.”
Jack felt his cheek burn as he stood off to the side and waited for his order.
“I’m Eric, by the way,” he said as he handed Jack his coffee.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Jack said.
“Thanks, I--”
“Eric, can we punch out now? That last table cleared out.”
Jack turned to look at the three teenagers wearing the Bits of Heaven t-shirts.
“Okay, Rudy Rudester… do you want to not interrupt next time?”
The redhead looked even redder as he blushed. “Sorry.”
“Dex, you can punch out since you got here early. Chowder and Nursey, you've got 15 more minutes.”
“Okay, boss!” the one with the braces replied and quickly got back to work.
“Sorry about that. They're not supposed to work this late, but agreed to help out for our grand opening week.”
“To be that young and full of energy, huh?” Jack smiled.
“Yeah, but now I need to find someone that full of energy to help me close and sweep up,” Eric said with a sigh. “Look at me, laying my troubles on you. Go and enjoy your cookie and thanks again for coming.”
Jack took a seat in the large armchair by the corner and noticed there was a small Help Wanted sign taped to the window.
He watched the three kids chirp each other, sword fight with broom handles, and smiled at their zeal.
“Boys! Can you please?” Eric chastised kindly.
“Night, Eric,” Dex called out. He then waved at the other two boys (one gave him an extra bright smile) and left.
The last few customers trickled out, and Jack looked at the time. The shop was officially closed. He took his dish and mug to the counter and Eric slammed his register drawer shut.
“How’d it go?” Jack asked.
“Pretty good, if I do say so myself.” He looked at Jack’s dishes. “Oh, you didn't have to bring them up. You could have just left them on the table. Thank you!”
“Thanks for letting me stay till the last minute.”
“Nonsense. I just hope you’ll be back.”
Jack stood there and rubbed the back of his neck. “So, uh, what are the hours?”
“Well, our official hours will be Tuesday through Sunday, 7:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.—but I stayed open later for the grand opening. Here, let me get you a punch card.”
Jack looked at the card pressed into his hand and cleared his throat. “No, I meant what are the hours—you know, for closing up.”
He pointed at the sign in the window.
“Oh! I see… I’m not sure it’d be your kind of thing?” Eric replied looking taken by surprise.
“Oh?”
“It’s to help wash dishes, sweep, clean up and stuff. I figured some other high schooler might be interested, not you.”
Jack smiled. “And why not me?”
Eric laughed. “Well, because I can’t imagine a retired NHL legend would be interested in sweepin’ up my shop.”
Jack felt a little crestfallen, realizing Eric knew who he was.
“Don’t worry—it’s not a big deal," Jack quickly added.
"I mean, if you’re interested, then who am I to stand in the way?” Eric said with kindness and a quick wink.
"Okay. Right on," Jack replied with a smile.
Jack then realized he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time… giddiness.
