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

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.

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.”

“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.

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

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'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.)

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

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

Five times Jack Zimmermann came out of the closet.

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

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

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.

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

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

The empty nest sure is empty sometimes.

“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?”

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

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.

“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?”

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

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.

Jack invites Bitty up for a visit while he's training in Toronto over the summer. To the utter surprise of nobody who's ever met him, Bitty spends a lot of time baking.

“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