#jack and bitty
zimbits the proposal au
“I’m from Canada, for Christ’s sake! There’s got to be something we can do,” Jack says, tapping his fingers nervously on his desk, his mind running through all the possibilities. He’s too busy thinking to really be listening, until
“Until this is resolved I’m turning this over to Chad R.”
“You mean that guy I just fired?”
“We need an editor in chief,” said Mr. Hall. A few quick knocks on the door, and Bittle pokes his head in.
“Sorry to interrupt –”
“What?!” Jack snaps.
“George called, she’s on the line,” Bittle said.
“I know.”
“She’s on hold…” Bittle looked at the executive directors curiously. “She needs to speak with you. I told her you were otherwise engaged. She insisted, so… sorry.” Bittle started to close the door.
“Wait!” Jack said.
“Um… yes?”
“Come here, Eric.” Jack’s tone was considerably warmer. Bittle was suspicious, but started walking over to Mr. Zimmermann’s desk anyway. “Gentlemen, I understand. I understand the predicament we are in.”
“And?” said Mr. Hall.
“And there’s… well… something I think that you should know,” Jack replied. Bittle grew more and more nervous with every step he took towards Mr. Zimmermann’s desk. Jack stood up, and took Bittle’s hand. His heart was in his throat; his emotions were some mixture of shock, terror, and confusion. “We’re getting married.” Mr. Zimmermann smiled at him. Eric wondered if this was a dream; it was the first time his boss had actually smiled at him. “We are getting married,” Mr. Zimmerman said again, this time with more confidence and enthusiasm.
“Who is getting married?” Bittle asked, eyes too wide open.
“You and I. You and I are getting married!” Jack said. Eric got his shocked expression under control, and realized he needed to just go with it; if he didn’t, his career was over. He put on his biggest, sweet-as-pie Southern smile.
“We are. Getting married,” he said to his boss. He turned to face Mr. Hall and Mr. Murray. “Yes,” he said, giving them a thumbs up, with the hand Mr. Zimmermann wasn’t holding. He immediately realized how corny that was and instantly regretted it. But, Eric decided not to blame himself too much because he still barely had any idea as to what was going on.
“I didn’t even know you were… gay…” Mr. Murray said, expression half-awed, half-very, very confused.
“Isn’t he your secretary?” asked Mr. Hall, eyes narrowed.
“Assistant,” Eric reflexively corrected.
“Executive… assistant secretary,” said Jack, letting go of Bittle’s hand to put it around his shoulders. The silence afterward hung heavy. “So, yeah. We are just to people who never meant to fall in love, but did.”
When they exited the DeKalb-Peachtree Airport, Eric waved down their driver.
To Jack, the driver seemed… nice? A little unsettling, but nice. Maybe it was the mustache, maybe it was the fact that he’d been hitting on Jack for the whole taxi ride, or maybe it was because he insists on being called Shitty, as if that wasn’t weird.
crikey folks that got out of hand but there’s a starter for ya
but yeah shitty is definitely the driver/server/exotic dancer/priest/etc. and thats all i really know
