eatmoreprotein | going blind from this sweet sweet craving [bittle]

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bittle

going blind from this sweet sweet craving [bittle]

I'm not really all that great at coming up with gifts. I always acknowledged my friends' birthdays in some way or another, whether it be treating them to a meal and a few gift cards. I knew it might have come off as impersonal, but it's all I was really capable of.

This is different, though. I don't really have the money for gift cards or a fancy expensive meal. But more than that, this is Bittle. He deserves something better. Something thoughtful. Especially if we're dating. Are we dating? I think we are, but we haven't really talked about it. Mostly my fault, I know. We should probably do that. Talk about it, that is.

An idea comes to me while I watch Bittle dance around my kitchen. Admittedly I do spend a while distracted by the frankly obscene little shorts that he's wearing coupled with the way he moves his hips, but eventually I become capable of thought. It's a small idea, maybe a dumb one, but it's the best one I've got.

Luckily, the weather is good and I have time to get everything set up. I told Bittle to meet me at a nearby restaurant, and once I'm done I go to meet him with a simple bouquet of flowers. It's a nice touch, I think. And pretty obvious. Friends don't give friends flowers, I'm pretty sure.

I'm wearing nice jeans and a blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair pushed back, and I swallow nervously. I really want this to go well. Bittle deserves that.

Once I spot him approach, I lift a hand in greeting and hold out the flowers once he's close enough. "Happy birthday, mon chou."

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It's such a relief to see my idea go over so well. He seems so happy, grinning and taking photos, and that gives me an idea of my own. The song in question starts up and I chuckle as I get up and pull my phone out of my pocket. I miss my camera so badly, but this will do.

I take a few candid photos while Bittle inspects the food, and then lower my phone for a moment. "I asked Derek if he knew of a good Southern place, actually. He gave me a few names and I chose this place."

Bittle looks so wonderful like this. The sun is setting and his golden hair flutters in the breeze. He looks calm and happy and I want to capture this moment. I want it to last forever.

"Hey," I say as I lift my phone. I miss the feeling of the eyepiece against my face, but I make do with framing Bittle in the small screen. "Look at me, eh? I want to get this."

I look up at him with a sly grin, finger poised over the shutter button. "Say apple pie with cheese."

There's something almost a little strange about the idea of Jack talking to Derek and I can't help but wonder if that means Derek knows or if he just thinks this whole thing between me and Jack is friendly. It's a silly thing to wonder, I know. What I feel for Jack is so much bigger than what I felt for Derek, but as hung up as I was for a time, it still catches.

Whatever the case, it's obvious Derek knows his stuff when it comes to food, a fact I've long known of course, but I make a mental note to thank him later for his contribution to all this.

Jack's voice is soft when he speaks again and I'm just in the middle of portioning out the fried chicken when I glance up to see him holding his camera up for a picture. Laughing, I cock my head at him, but I smile wide, letting absolutely everything I'm feeling shine through before I reach out to him.

"We should take a selfie," I say, dropping the chicken and wiping the grease off my palm before scooting closer to him. "After all, a boy only gets to celebrate his twentieth birthday once and I have no idea when I'll feel like I'm stuck in the perfect Disney movie ever again."

Once I snap the picture, I glance down at the screen and my breath catches a bit. Bittle looks so gorgeous, and the look on his face sort of throws me through a loop. I've never seen fondness like that aimed at me, and for a moment I'm not sure what I've done to deserve it.

It's only when Bittle speaks that my attention is torn away, and I chuckle a little before sitting down next to him and putting my arm around his shoulders. "Selfies are your forte, so I'll let you have at it."

I turn to look at him and it takes me a moment to find the right words, and when it do I lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. "I want to make you feel like this every day."

Jack doesn't even pretend to protest and suddenly I remember a night from a months ago and also, weirdly, at least a year ago, when he'd been the one to suggest a selfie. In the middle of a party, even. I remember the weight of his hand on my hip and his smile and how I'd stared at that picture for weeks and weeks and weeks.

This isn't like that.

This time Jack's hand is on my shoulder and there's an ocean in front of us and it's cold out, but I still feel so warm all over. My thumb taps the button just as he's pressing a kiss to my cheek and I know my face is going red, but when I look at him, it doesn't matter at all. All that matters is that this is real, this is actually happening.

"Goodness, as if I wasn't totally gone for you already," I tell him with a rushed laugh. "You keep sayin' stuff like that and I really am gonna start thinkin' we need to take you back to Disney World where you came from."

"You're gone for me?" I say before even realizing I meant to speak. I smile at him, feeling warm all over, and I can't help but to kiss him again.

"Disney World? Oh, 'cause I'm a prince, eh?" I roll my eyes in fond exasperation and hand him a plate. "No, mon chou. I guess this is just what someone gone for you too looks like."

It's only when he says the words back to me, as a question, that I realize what it is I've said. My cheeks are already red and I can't imagine they can feel any warmer, but before I can back peddle or clarify, he's leaning in to kiss me again and all I can do is laugh, dumbfounded.

He catches onto my reference at least and I can't even chirp him because his words take my breath away.

"Are you?" I ask him, holding the plate he's handed me stupidly. I still just can't believe this is real, any of it, and I realize I'm too scared for his response so I shake my head quickly, heart pounding as I wave it away. "I mean, you are a Disney prince. Just look at you! You're the spitting image of Prince Eric at the very least, which seems horribly fair since that's my name. I don't think there's a Prince Jack, though. Aside from you, obviously."

"I think I must be," I reply, smiling at him with pink cheeks before I start to load up my own plate. His insistence that I'm some sort of prince makes me chuckle, and my expression must be hopelessly fond when I look over at him. "We can both be princes, monsieur chou."

Once our plates are loaded up, I reach into the basket to pull out a small bottle of champagne. I bought it at the grocery store so it isn't some amazing brand, but it'll do. I didn't even feel much anxiety getting it either. I'm happy enough right now, distracted enough, that I don't even feel the need to drink.

"We have to have a birthday toast," I tell him with an easy smile, hoping he'll trust me enough to not worry. The cork pops off and I laugh as I lean over to let the foam pour into the sand.

I'm not sure how seriously he means it, but I know by the way my heart is thumping beneath my chest, how badly I want him to mean it. Now is not the time to press, though. Not when it's only been a couple weeks and everything about this night is absolutely magical.

"Oh, I've been upgraded to monsieur shoe, have I?" I tease, letting the way he looks at me just warm me all over as he loads up our plates.

I'm a little surprised by the bottle of champagne he pulls out, but Jack's been here months now and he hasn't fallen off the wagon once so far as I know. If he can trust himself with this, I can too. It's hard not to jump when he uncorks the bottle and I laugh as he lets the bubbles overflow into the sand as I reach into the basket to pull out two glasses.

"Goodness, you really thought of everything, didn't you?" I say. At this point, I'm fairy sure the smile is permanently carved into my face. "And here I used to think you were some kinda robot."

"Well, just for tonight. Since you're a prince and all," I tell him. Bittle doesn't seem to take pause at the champagne, and I'm relieved. Important moments just need a toast, is all. I fill each of the glasses halfway, pausing slightly when he makes the robot comment. It stings a little, but that's mostly my fault. I didn't really make the greatest impression on him at first.

"I'm trying," I say after a moment, setting my glass down and working it into the sand so that it won't tip and picking up my plate of food instead. "I wanted you to have a nice birthday."

It's hard to miss the flicker that passes over his expression as he nestles the champagne bottle into the sand and I immediately feel a stab of guilt when I realize what it is that's caused it.

"Honey, no, I-- I'm sorry, I was just chirpin' ya," I insist, forgetting my plate for a moment in favor of watching him more carefully, worried. "And I found out pretty quickly that you're not really a robot at all even if you kinda like to play that card sometimes. Robots aren't really any good at baking. Or photography for that matter."

"No, I know. It's okay," I assure him, looking over at him with a soft smile. I did act sort of like a robot sometimes, especially to people who didn't know me very well. It was just easier that way. I could keep my emotions in check.

"You thought I was good, eh?" I say, trying to get the conversation back on course. "What about the food? Hurry up and eat. Bon apetit, mon chou. Bon anniversaire."

Edited 2016-05-23 03:55 (UTC)

It's easy to see that he's really not too cut up about so I let myself relax a little, pulling the plate closer and digging into the okra first.

"Well, you know," I tell him with a teasing grin. "Good for a hockey player, at least. Though I guess I really shouldn't've been so surprised. You're very good at following directions and that's basically all baking is when you're first starting out."

I bite into the okra then and it's a little like biting into a small piece of home. My eyes close and I let out a soft, happy moan before looking at Jack again. "I still can't believe you did this. I can't even remember the last time I had okra. I had no idea there was anyone here even makin' it."

"Well, I had a good teacher," I tell him, watching as he eats the okra. His reaction makes me quirk a brow for how attractive I find it. "Yeah, it was a little hole in the wall place. Derek says he's sniffed out all the best meat in the city, whatever that means."

I shrug and snag a piece of okra for myself. "I've never tried a lot of this stuff."

After giving the okra a curious sniff, I take a bite and hum in appreciation. "Hm, not bad."

"We should go back later and thank them," I tell Jack, taking another delicious bite. "Or at least go back and eat there if nothing else. I wonder if they'd let me thank them with some pies."

I'm really only partially joking. I really do want to go back, maybe even on my own. I know southern cooking probably isn't Jack's favorite, that this is really for my benefit because it's my birthday. I won't make him sit through more of it without a good reason.

I hesitate then, licking my lips thoughtfully before I ask, "Does this count as a date?"

"Thank them for doing their job and making the same food that they make every day?" I ask with an amused smile. "And here I thought Canadians were overly polite, eh?"

I lean in to bump our shoulders together before reaching for my fork. Most things on the plate or either fried or full of carbs, or both. It's definitely not a meal that I would eat all the time, but the food is good. Definitely something I would go back to for a cheat day.

Except for the tan, creamy stuff. I'm not sure what that is, but I'm not sure I like it. Grits, the menu said. I am not a fan of grits.

"Of course it's a date," I say easily, though my brow furrows in uncertainty as I look over at him. "Isn't it?"

"Yes!" I reply with a quick laugh, reaching over to squeeze Jack's knee lightly. "Just 'cause it's their job doesn't mean it should go unappreciated. I just want to compliment them and for helping to give me the best birthday ever.

I don't miss the way he grimaces when he takes a bite of the grits, but I don't call him on it. I know they're not for everyone and, anyway, it just means more for me. It does make me wonder though what sort of Canadian food he has that I might not like. That'll be a project for later; maybe he can help with the research.

The look he gives me when I ask about the date, like it's the dumbest question he's ever heard, is a little embarrassing, but mostly wonderful and I just shrug as I take another bite. "I just wanted to be sure. It's not like I'm keepin' count inside my head or anything. That would just be weird."

"Is it really?" I ask, taken a little by surprise. "The best birthday ever, I mean."

The thought makes me smile, soft and fond, and I have to bite my lip as I gather some more food onto my fork. "Be honest, Bits. Are you keeping count?"

I shove a big bite of chicken into my mouth, cheeks slightly puffed out and lips shiny as I grin at him. Maybe I'm trying to look ridiculous. Maybe I want to cover up the fact that I've definitely been keeping count.

"Well, the best in recent memory, at least," I reply with a small smile when I noticed the look on his face. I'm probably admitting too much with all this, but I don't think he's freaking out. Or I hope not anyway.

He scoops up some more food and I bite my lip as I peel off a strip of fried chicken. His cheeks go all puffy, his lips shiny with grease and I can't help but laugh again as I give an awkward, maybe slightly self-conscious shrug.

"Maybe," I confess, eating the little strip. "But don't you dare chirp me. It's not like I've done this much before and you're... well, you're you. Do you know how many people back home would kill to go on even just one date with Jack Zimmermann?"

"Yeah, well, back home I was a shiny novelty," I tell him self-consciously, shrugging as I reach for a napkin. "But that's not what I am to you. Right?"

It's a moment of insecurity, one that I mostly know is ridiculous. I'm nothing here, a complete nobody, so I know that Bittle likes me for who I am. For some reason.

"What, a shiny novelty?" I reply, confused for a moment that Jack could ever think such a thing.

But then... Goodness, it does make sense. How many years did he spend being known as 'Bad Bob's Kid' instead of Jack? And then how many years after that 'The Next Bad Bob?' How many years did he spend clawing out from under that shadow before... well, before the incident. And then even after that, even when he had his own name, he just became the Jack Zimmermann, Next Hockey Great instead of just Jack. Just a guy trying as hard as he can at something he loves.

Something in my chest cracks a little and, for a second, I'm not thinking at all about the food or the date or my birthday. "Honey, you've never been that to me at all. I really hardly even knew who you were when we met, you know. I mean, I knew you were my captain and I knew you were -- are -- an amazing hockey player, but I didn't know all that other stuff. Not til later. I got to know you though and I realized you're so much more than that. Do you think Shitty thinks you're just a shiny novelty? Or Lardo? Ransom and Holster? Chowder? We all know you, Jack. The real you."

"No, I know you guys didn't," I say emphatically, catching look on Bittle's face. "That's why I loved the Haus so much. To everyone who lived there, I was just Jack. I liked being just Jack."

Here, that's all I am. And while I don't miss the constant pressure, I do miss the good parts of being Jack Zimmermann. But then Bits look at me and I remember that there are good parts here too. Really good ones.

"You're too nice to look at," I say suddenly, sounding almost accusing. "You made me lose my train of thought."

I startle a little at that, blinking as I try to balance his words with his tone and, once I do, I can feel my cheeks going hot again and my lips curling into a small smile.

Jack might as well have called me beautiful for the way it hits me and I let out a quiet laugh. "You're not too hard on the eyes there yourself, Mr. Zimmermann," I tell him, grinning down at my plate of food and picking off another bit of chicken before looking back up at him again, coy now. "Guess it's only fair for the number of times I've found your face distracting myself."

"Oh, that's so, eh?" I laugh and duck my head to hide a pleased smile. "I guess we're just going to spend a lot of time distracting each other."

As good as the food is, I can only eat about a plateful before I have to call it quits. I'm not used to so much fat, and I still have cake to eat. The last thing I want is for my stomach to act up during a romantic picnic dinner.

"Ah, last thing." I reach into the basket and pull out a single candle with a burst of silver confetti at the tip to take the place of a flame. I stick it into the cake and gesture proudly at it. "Now it's a birthday cake!"

"Oh goodness, I hope so," I reply, a quiet laugh under my breath. It's possible I mean it in a slightly different way than he does, but I don't think I can be blamed. The entirety of Jack is absolutely gorgeous, from head to toe and inside and out. His entire being is a distraction and now even more so.

I'm still just sorta staring at him when he sits up quickly and reaches into the basket again, pulling out a long candle with a little fluff of confetti at the tip and sticks it right into the cake.

Food forgotten for the moment, I have to stifle a laugh behind my hands. Gracious, this boy. I drop my hands after a moment so can I beam up at him. "I don't even need to make a wish this year," I tell him, feeling my cheeks go warm. "I already got exactly what I most wanted."

It takes me longer than it should to realize that he's probably referring to me, and I look over at him with wide eyes. Words fail me, so I just lean in and give him a kiss. "It's all yours."

I kiss him again, long and lingering, and I'm sure I look a little dazed when I pull away. He might have had a wish come true, but I feel like the lucky one. "Now come on, are we gonna have this cake by the ocean or what, birthday Bits?"

He looks surprised, his eyes wide and locked on mine and I wonder for a moment if I've said something I shouldn't, if maybe I'm admitting too much too soon.

But then he's kissing me, and it doesn't feel scared at all. It feels like every kiss I could only ever dream about and I can't help but lean in after him as he pulls away, my lips still tingling faintly. Cheeks still warm, I laugh a little and nod. "I, uhm. I really like when you call me that," I admit then, reaching into the basket to find us both clean forks before handing one to him.

"When I call you what?" I take the fork from him and nudge the cake towards him so he can dig in first. It's small enough that I don't really feel the need to slice it up, plus sharing it this way feels a little intimate and I don't really want to give that up. "Bits? Well, Bittle is a bit too formal now, eh?"

Instead of waiting for him to take the first bite, I change my mind and get a bite on my fork and then lean over to hold the piece of cake in front of Bittle's mouth. "I'm glad that you like it. Now open up, Bits."

"Yeah, it uh. It feels a little more intimate, I guess," I agree as he sinks the edge of his fork into the cake, cutting off a piece. I don't realize it's meant for me until he's holding it up toward me. My cheeks go warm all over again at his singular request but there's no way Jack has any idea about my deeper fantasies unless he's caught me talking in my sleep.

So I force down the flutter of butterflies in my belly and lean forward to steal the bite straight off the fork. It's a messy way to eat and I let out a quite sound as I cup a hand beneath my mouth, catching what I can of the crumbs as I start to chew. "It's good!" I tell him with a quiet laugh, licking some frosting off my bottom lip. "You're gonna have some too, right?"

"Intimate," I repeat in a low voice, wholly distracted by the way his soft pink lips wrap around the fork. There's frosting at the corner of his mouth and I blink at the question, eyes going slightly dark as I look at him.

"Yeah," I say, leaning in and swiping my tongue across the corner of his mouth to lick the frosting away. "I think I might."

Something about the way Jack is staring at me is even more delicious than the cake and I swallow my bite as he leans in close, his eyes dark and hungry as he lick at the corner of my mouth.

The breath is knocked out of my lungs for a second and I turn just enough to steal a real kiss from him, tasting another hint of frosting on his tongue as I let out a quiet whimper into his mouth. My hand is resting lightly against his neck before I even realize it and my teeth catch on his bottom lip before I pull back. "No offense to the take, but you taste even better."

Bittle kisses me deeply and I turn into it, moaning as I lick into his mouth. My breath catches when he bites my lip and I grin as I press our foreheads together.

"That so?" I ask, kissing him again and sliding a hand down his back. "Do I taste better than peach pie?"

Jack actually moans and it sends a spark of heat all through me. Laughing, I rest against him, thrilling just a bit when his hand smooths down my back and nodding in reply.

"You taste better than any pie I've ever had," I tell him on a sigh before tipping up for another taste. I can't say I've ever really considered doing anything all that scandalous in a public space, but I think kissing my boyfriend -- my boyfriend! -- on a beach hardly counts. It could, though. I definitely don't feel like stopping.

"Now that can't be true," I tease, but the comment still makes me warm all over. For as terrible as this place can be, for all that it's taken from me, I am at least grateful for this. Here in Darrow I can sit on a beach with a man and hold him, kiss him, and not have to worry.

I can be myself here. Sure, hockey was a big part of me, but maybe I can learn who I am without it. Maybe Bits can help me. He's looking at me with those warm brown eyes, and I give him another soft kiss. "Happy birthday, Bits."

I still feel like I'm in some sort of daze, especially with the way Jack's looking at me, the way he presses yet one more soft kiss to my lips. Part of me still expects that I'll wake up at any moment and find that this has all been a dream.

I finally manage to nod, leaning in just once more to whisper a thank you against his lips.

Honestly, even this somehow is all a dream, at least it's one to remember.

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going blind from this sweet sweet craving [bittle]

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