#hi im crying

imaginarycircus:

des-zimbits:

On August 3, 2015 Bitty is in Providence, a halo of tousled hair around his head in the morning light, and Jack gives him a festive-looking envelope.

“What is this, Mr. Zimmermann,” he says, laughing, pulling open the ribbon wrapped around it.  “You’re supposed to getpresents on your birthday, not gi–” His voice falters and he holds a $500 Williams Sonoma gift card in shaking fingers.

Jack wraps arms around him.  “I am going to watch you spend it,” he says into Bitty’s hair, “on rolling pins and bain-maries and kitchen knives that don’t make you curse their lineage.”  He kisses his neck.  “You are going to throw out the pot with the green handle. After we douse it with gasoline and set it on fire.”

“Oh my god,” Bitty says, who has literally started weeping.  “Thank you. Thank you so much. This is the best present anyone has ever gotten me.”

Jack holds him as Bitty turns around and cries into Jack’s shoulder.  “I am the best boyfriend ever?”

“Oh my god, Jack. Oh my god.”

Jack may, he concludes, have gone a little overboard; you can have too much of a good thing when it takes someone half an hour to calm down about it.  He should have done more than one trip, with smaller amounts.

But it’s still the best gift he’s ever fucking bought himself.

Now I have this scenario stuck in my head:

In his new kitchen in Providence, Jack has a microwave, one 8 inch frying pan, three forks, three spoons, two knives, two bowls, and a coffee maker. He knows he can buy more things, but he needs to look as inept and pathetic as possible for his plan to succeed. The first time Bitty visits he is awed by the kitchen for about two seconds and then is so appalled that he can’t sleep. Jack takes him for a big froofy latte early the next morning.

“I know I need more stuff, but I’m not even sure where to start.” Jack speaks mournfully into his cup of black coffee, because he is on a mission. “I don’t know. Could you make me a list or something?”

Bitty has his phone out and in fewer than 10 seconds tells Jack to get back in the car. They drive to Providence Place and Jack’s never heard of Sur La Table, but from the way Bitty enters–like a medieval pilgrim entering a cathedral, he knows this is going to work if he doesn’t overplay his hand.

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