WHO: The Bittle-Zimmermanns WHAT: Jack has to be Santa for the kids, and Bitty is concerned that his husband doesn't know the Christmas Canon™ while he finds his own costume to wear. WHEN: Around Christmas time! WARNINGS: None! STATUS: Complete!
Well. That hadn’t worked out the way Jack had expected. What was supposed to be a local Yule event for the Vallo kids that were involved in the hockey teams ended up… well, going sideways. Jack had brought Bitty with him that night, with the intention of being a Father Christmas’ helpers. They’d loaded up on baked goods, the hockey rink was decked out and the perfect location for festivities..
And then Father Christmas showed up drunk. Jack and Bitty had immediately noticed, as had, well.. Everyone else, as the fake-bearded man stumbled across carpeted ice and fallen flat on his face in front of a dozen children.
They’d gone into action, lifting him up and escorting him to the penalty box to sleep this one off. After a few discussions - and a few parents pulling him aside - Jack ended up with a garish red coat, fake beard, and hat in his hands and he’d been shuttled off to the locker rooms.
“Uh-” That was where he was now, half-dressed and rethinking every life choice that lead to this point. “Bits, I don’t know--” He peeked around the corner and then stepped out to where his husband was, hand holding the too-large pants from falling down around his ankles and open red coat showing off his abs. “I really don’t think I’m a good choice for this.”
Bitty never thought that escorting an inebriated Santa impersonator would be on his list of things to do this holiday season, but there was a first time for everything. The disappointment radiating off him would be enough—he assumed—to haunt the man's dreams until he came and apologized, sober. But that certainly hadn't fixed the issue of being without Santa for a slew of eager kids. Unforgivable.
How this resulted in Jack stepping into the role wasn't quite clear, only that Bitty was now in the locker room waiting to help Jack get into the costume. His sweet, loving, modest husband was truly the best, but Bitty couldn't help but stifle a small laugh of surprise when he came hobbling out half-dressed in pieces that were far too loose on him. Bitty briefly was distracted by abs, and he would sort out what it meant to have the hots for Jack in a Santa costume later.
"Honey, oh my goodness," Bitty said, rushing up to him to help hold up his pants. "You are more than definitely the right person for the part.I couldn't do it! How is your ho ho ho? Practice changing everything into Santa speak! You know, like 'it was a busy day at the shop with my elves!' or 'I woke up this morning and took a stroll through the candy cane forest outside my home in the north pole!' Do you want me to quiz you on all the reindeer names?"
Bitty knew that wasn't helpful to stress out Jack more, but Bitty remembered that he had possibly tried to trip up holiday market Santas unintentionally when he was younger. He hummed at the outfit. "Maybe you can be hockey Santa! We can get gear to fill out the clothes!"
Jack couldn’t help but laugh at Bitty’s questions, even as he kept rambling. It was usually a struggle to keep up with his husband, but always an enjoyable struggle. Like a minigame. “My ho ho ho could use some work, I’m a married man.” And apparently still prone to making dad jokes, this one he’d have to tell Shitty later as he was clearly proud of it.
As for the reindeers, he looked up to the ceiling and began reciting from memory. “Tornade, Danseur, Furie, Fringant--ah--” His memory started failing him on the rest, until a moment later. “Éclair!” But there were still others he was missing, and Jack ended with a shrug. “You can quiz me on the rest when I get changed, because the gear is a good idea.”
It was either that or he was going to have to find a sturdy belt somewhere and make it all work, but as of right now, these pants weren’t staying up even with suspenders. Knowing it was just him and Bitty in the locker room, though, Jack let go of his hold with a hidden grin.
Bitty gave Jack a Look at the dad joke, but he couldn't hold the seriousness for long. A bright smile was plastered to his face, and not even the worst puns could wipe it away. He started fussing with Jack's costume, pleased that his husband was taking his suggestions to heart when he started listing off reindeer. Or supposed reindeer. Oh Lord.
"Wait, wait, honey, no, wait. Don't—" But then Jack dropped his pants and Bitty was fruitlessly holding onto the waistband, but it was doing little to help keep them up. This was bad. Terrible. The kids were waiting on them, but Jack managed to still look sweepingly attractive in all of this and Bitty was melting.
"Eclair is not a reindeer!" Bitty corrected—focus, focus. "But I could make reindeer out of eclairs, actually. That might actually be cute! Goodness, I'd have to find something thick enough to hold the pieces together, and under-pipe the cream. But who wants an under-piped—nevermind! Sweetheart." Bitty tugged on Jack's pants to get him closer. He did not pull them up however.
"It is Dasher, Dancer, Prancer..." He paused, squinted at Jack with a dubious look, before realization dawned on him. "French, those are the French names! Eclair is the name of your reindeer?" That seemed to be the most alarming part of this information. "Okay, walk back there and I'll get you gear. I'll be your belt for now, " Bitty said, shuffling his feet to push Jack toward the back of the locker room.
“I feel like I’m being French-shamed right now, you know. Yes Eclair.” He did enjoy the fact that this turned into a baking conversation, regardless, and Jack did love a good eclair.
But they were way off track now. And if it had been any other moment in time, Jack would have cornered Bitty into a row of lockers and held him there with full distraction. But they probably only had a good ten minutes before someone came looking for them, and the door to the locker room wasn’t locked. Still, he did as his husband said, backing up while Bitty held his pants.
“Cupidon! I can’t believe I forgot that one.” It was like a dawning realization, and Jack started going through the song in his head in Quebecois, murmuring it quietly to himself as he recounted what he knew from his childhood. “Ah- Comète? Maybe you should be the one to do this, Bits.”
"Jack, sweetheart, I'm not French-shaming you! I'm—okay, maybe a little bit, and I'm sorry! But those kids might be expecting you to say Blitzen and, oh Lord, Rudolph. Please tell me you know who Rudolph is!" Bitty exclaimed, feeling this whole last minute decision slowly falling to shambles. This is what happened when they didn't plan ahead.
Bitty attempted to grab a shoulder pad off a shelf as they shuffled around, one hand still holding tight to Jack's oversized pants. "I can't be Santa. I'm too small to be Santa. And I know, before you try to convince me otherwise, I know what I am about! I'm more of an elf type. Like a helper. I could be your helper, but I do not see anything that could be repurposed into a costume unless... wait." Bitty swiftly kissed Jack, before dropping the pads at his feet, and shoving the waistband back into his hands to hold up.
He disappeared briefly behind a wall where another set of lockers was located. When he came back, Bitty was holding the head to T-Wrecks. "What if Santa had a dinosaur? Would they believe it? Oh goodness, I don't know. I could whisper the names into your ear and be by yourself the whole time so you don't have to do it alone?" It might be his best worst idea yet, but Bitty promised—sickness and in health, traditional Christmases and last-minute Santa schemes—he would be there for Jack.
“I like elves,” Jack had muttered quietly in return, prepared fully to argue with Bitty even as his husband pre-argued for him at the very start. He also wasn’t satisfied with that all too short kiss and before he could lean in for more, Bitty was gone.
When he came back, Jack couldn’t help the laughter that came out. It was mostly a quiet rumbling thunder deep in his chest, but then he thought about it and the idea was unique, and fun. And it kept Bitty at his side. “I like it. It fits with our hockey theme.” He plopped himself down on the bench and pulled forward a few more pads, prepping to put himself in them but first--
He yanked Bitty forward by the hip to right between Jack’s legs. Jack didn’t have to look up far, since this put them more-or-less level with each other. “Anything you want to ask Santa for Christmas first? Before anyone hears?”
Bitty was All Pistons Firing, ready to assist in getting Jack dressed, and thinking through what he had available to wear in the lockers under the costume. Holiday dinosaurs weren't so bad, and honestly if it kept Jack calm and not anxious while attempting to gently fib to a bunch of eager kids, then Bitty was going to do it. He was putting down the head and turning to go get the rest of the suit when—oh.
He went willingly into the space between Jack's legs, and that seemed to distract Bitty just enough. The smile he flashed at his husband was brilliant and all teeth. "Honey," Bitty said, and promptly sat on his lap. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it properly. "Or should I say, Santa—no, wait that sounds like I'm into that, and I'm not, it's just a little roleplay but then it makes it—" Bitty huffed, waved his hands in front of him like he was clearing away the words, and started again.
"Jack, sweetheart, the absolute love of my life, there is nothing else I need this holiday except for you. And maybe a bigger pot at the Haus to do canning in," Bitty said, and kissed his cheek. "Wait, and maybe you wearing the pants and the suspenders only in the bedroom?" Bitty's face flushed with the suggestion, before adding, "Unless you had something else in mind? No one asks Santa what he wants for Christmas."
Jack snorted a gentle laugh. He made a mental note to pick up a larger pot for canning - but he’d have to drag Dex or Lardo along on that one so he didn’t mess it up. Sometimes with Bitty it was easiest to directly say “show me which one you want”, but he had to admit it took a little romance and surprise out of the equation that way.
Not that surprises ever lasted long when he had an attractive blonde sitting on his lap. But Bitty suggesting the pants and suspenders in their bedroom was about as close as he got, and Jack’s cheeks flushed slightly. But he didn’t shy away from the idea, instead giving a little nod. “I think we can make that work.”
He wrapped an arm around Bitty’s middle and nuzzled his face into the crook of his husband’s neck. “Santa has had an amazing year with an amazing husband, but I’ll wear the suspenders if you wear those ah--” Jack flushed a little deeper. “Garters? The dinosaur doesn’t do anything for me, sorry.”
Watching his husband blush made Bitty let out a strangled, pleased, high-pitched noise. He knew that Jack wasn't always as forthcoming—reserved and realistic in all the ways Bitty was not—but if Bitty could make him ask for things like garters in the bedroom, then who was he to say no? Bitty grinned nodding eagerly, as he leaned in to kiss Jack. He didn't want him to wonder if he had gone too far and never ask again.
"Sweetheart, I will wear whatever you want. But I am relieved that the dinosaur is off the table. I would have made it work! You know I would have, but then we might have had to have a conversation about how you managed to keep it a secret from me for so long, and it just sounds horrific. A mess of a conversation, and I know I would just absolutely step in it!" Bitty was going off on a tangent with this hypothetical situation that would never happen, so he kissed Jack again, for good measure.
"Now, what are the French names of the reindeer again? Tornado? Fury? Fragrant?" Bitty asked, absolutely serious. "I want to get it right in case the kids like hearing the French ones instead of the ones I know. We can back each other up. We are a team after all—" Was that the locker room door opening?
It was, and it was also Jack’s eyes widening and his hands tightened on Bitty’s hips so he could lift him up and set his husband upright quickly. The last thing either of them needed was one of the parents catching them like this at an event, so he started shoving pads on his legs at superhuman speed. He glanced up at Bitty, trying to look as casual as possible (that was impossible, he never looked at Bitty with anything less than hearts in his eyes). “Tornade, Danseur...”
Like he’d hoped, they were interrupted by a cheerful voice that poked their head into the locker room. “Howdy fellas, about ready to go in here?” Jack snorted and nodded, but realized that eyes covered meant that wasn’t seen. “Yeah, two minutes. Just finishing up.” He tried to make it not sound dirty but likely failed if the guy was any indicator. He gave a thumbs up and disappeared back around the corner, but Jack didn’t hear the door open again.
To Bitty, he wagged his eyebrows and made a vulgar gesture that would have surely gotten him fired if it got caught on camera. “We’ll finish this later,” He whispered the promise, full of feeling.
Bitty waved the man goodbye, even if he couldn't see him. Bitty's face was also beat red, the promise had shot straight through him, and his excitement for later was palpable. They weren't doing anything inappropriate yet—and honestly, the number of times Bitty had considered doing something in the locker room, even if it was highly unsanitary, was extremely high—but it still made him hurry. The moment they were semi-alone, he was jumping up from Jack's lap and pulling out the pieces of the costume.
"You're going to have to get into the gear yourself, honey," Bitty said, as he held up—what was this? A body suit? Oh good Lord. "This Christmas Dinosaur is about to tornade up in here, and those little kids are not going to know what hit them!" He paused, lifting the massive stuffed tail that was clearly as big at Bitty.
"Maybe this, actually. I might hit them with this on accident. I do not have dinosaur awareness."