Being a casual drug user's best friend is the opposite of going to meetings.

“We don’t fight that much,” Dex says quietly. “You totally do,” Chowder says, “and sometimes you fight over me, which like. Guys. I know you’re doing it. I can hear you.” Nursey says, “let’s just turn on the game.”

Jack opens a door he hasn't walked through in a long time. Bitty holds his hand.

"Bits, you live tweeting this?" Shitty asks.

Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.) Includes enthusiastically-consented-to sexy hitting and egregious overuse of the word "fuck." Unbetaed. I'm probably going to hell extra for this.

Bitty's maple-sugar baking experiment goes even better than he planned: a 'swawesome afternoon at the Haus. (Bitty thinks about letting go of Jack, but then he asks himself what Beyoncé would do. She would not, he decides, back down.)

Settling his grip just above the muted curve of Bitty's hips, Jack squeezes. "Better." Bitty coughs out a laugh. "Glad you're satisfied." "Almost satisfied," Jack says. "I still have my shirt and socks on." "Good," Bitty says, and he leans to press them together, forehead to forehead, chest to chest with only cotton worn thin between them. "I like you like this. It's cute."

Bitty uses emojis like a second language, one that Jack's slowly starting to become fluent in.

How DID their fearless captain save the Haus from the entire football team? Five possible scenarios in which Jack Zimmermann saves the day, sometimes even on purpose.

“BRO!” Bitty glances up from the kitchen - that’s a new voice - just in time to see Shitty fling himself across the room at a tall brunette girl. “Hils! Fucking shit, man, so great to see you! You didn’t say you were coming!” OR: The one in which Hilary Knight is Shitty's big sister.

Eric’s never had a postgame breakdown of sex before, but he’s not particularly surprised when, before they’ve even caught their breath, Jack says, “Tell me how I can do better.”

Bitty comes out to Johnson in the Haus kitchen after baking four pies in a row. Bitty bakes when he’s nervous, but he also bakes when he’s happy, when he’s tired, when he’s irritated, and when it’s Tuesday, so it’s hard to draw conclusions. Unless you peeked ahead to the last panel first to check for cliffhangers, but Johnson would never do that.

Based on Bitty's Twitter recounting of Shitty and Jack's conversation the morning after Winter Screw -- the first few lines of dialogue come directly from the Twitter. An idea of what might have gone on during and after that conversation (hint: sex).

Lardo needs a plus-one for her friend's wedding. Shitty looks pretty good in a suit. What else is a bro going to do?

"Sometimes," Shitty says, and pauses, like he's collecting his thoughts. "Sometimes, I feel like I barely know you, Bitty." Includes baking about feelings, actually TALKING about feelings, learning to understand feelings, and sex. Betaed by the wonderful mardia, without whom this story would be missing important parts.

Left to his own devices, Jack wouldn’t ever choose texting as a form of communication.

Five times Shitty Knight really, truly loved Lardo.

"Chowder, my son: we’re gonna get you hammered, you fuckin’ beaut.” “I don't know if that's the best idea," Eric says dubiously, looking at the back of Chowder’s dejected head. “Bits, it’s Haus tradition!” Shitty exclaims, warming to his subject. He’s probably about five seconds from striking a Captain Morgan pose with his foot on a chair. “It’s got to be done!” “Okay,” Chowder says, unexpectedly. He bolts upright. There is a gigantic red mark on his forehead from the table. “Yeah, okay! Let’s get hammered!!”

Five times Jack Zimmermann came out of the closet.

If Eric Bittle had to talk about his time as an out, gay hockey player at Samwell University, he would be hard pressed to find any sob stories. He should have known it wouldn’t last forever.

A chirp (and not even a very good one) leads to coming out to his teammates.

A wicked smile slowly spreads across Kent’s face, and he turns to Jack. “What do you say, should I show your boy how to make you cry?”

Jack's just taking pictures whenever he sees something worth photographing, something that seems to fit what he's being told in class, about line and shape and color and beauty. It's like the camera knew before Jack did.

"Okay," Eric says, "but you've got to be quiet, sweetheart. You know how thin these walls are."

“Dibs on blondie,” Kent tells Jack. Jack makes a face at him. “Kenny, you can’t call dibs on a human being.” Kent scoffs. “Says you. Dibs.”

It figures that the one person to catch his notice in Boston would be Jack Zimmermann’s fucking boyfriend. “So, uh,” Kent stutters, all of his charm wiped away by this bullshit turn of events. “You probably think I’m the world’s biggest asshole, don’t you.” Bitty takes a sip of his beer and shrugs. “You’re up there.”

“You don’t have to tell them it was me. I mean, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll stop leaving marks if you want me to. Just..." He lifts up Jack’s shirt and touches one of the hickeys. When he looks back up, his eyes have gone dark. “I really, really like it. Do you mind?”

There are reasons he doesn't usually come down for the parties: people, mostly, and alcohol. But there's a reason he has, this time, and that reason made four dozen cookies earlier and is currently pressed up against his side.

Sometimes Bitty sleeps in Jack's bed. It's not a thing, until it is.

“Shit, man, you’ve got your eye on someone? Who is it? Do I know her? What’s the hold up?” Shitty asks. Jack furrows his brow, confused. “Uh, what? Shitty, no, there’s no girl-” “A guy?” Shitty interrupts, clearly having entirely missed the point. Jack opens his mouth to point his out, but Shitty beats him to it. “Oh, shit. Bitty?”

The empty nest sure is empty sometimes.

Some further events of Hazeapalooza '14. Shitty wants Bitty to see that hazing can be fun even without sweaters and pie. Jack helps.

Favors requested, favors rejected, the wrong people impressed, etc.

Everyone talks to Shitty, including his Hausmates.

No, Jack Zimmermann did not need or want a soulmate. And then this little shit came along.

Jack has everything he's always wanted. Sort of.

Jack looks at her and then puts her luggage down and leans in, grabs her into a full-body hug, right there on the sidewalk, holding her so close. She can’t remember when he last hugged her this hard. “He told his parents. About being gay. About us,” he says into her shoulder. “They were awful.”

The ESPN hockey anchors take a cheap shot. Bitty takes one back.

Kent Parson comes out and it's a bit of a train wreck, but not for the reasons you might think.

“Tater thinks I’m pretty,” Eric blurts out, and Jack chokes as he’s taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe wrong word,” Alexei tries, reaching out to squeeze Eric’s shoulder, “You handsome, but face is soft. Is nice face. Uh, you okay, Zimmboni?” “Yeah,” Jack coughs. His eyes are watering. “You’re right. Bitty is pretty.” “Is rhyme!” Alexei yells, excitedly, and offers his champagne bottle to Jack. “Drink for rhyme.”

- Mrs Bittle insists that they all call him Mister Crappy. Shitty has no idea who they’re talking to. - The Bittles are all impressed by Dicky’s lawyer friend, because Shitty knows how to impress parents - Shitty and Coach bond over mustache grooming