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“Like how we’re sitting in his personal seats because he personally gave you his personal tickets when he visited you at work for the third time this week?”
Scott stroked the backs of his fingers over Kip’s face. “It’s completely selfish, actually. I want to see you in a tux that was tailored to your gorgeous body. I might not be able to dance with you that night, but you’ll know I’ll be wishing I was.”
“Because he just lit up like the goddamn sun. Jesus. You guys are doomed.”
“Yeah.” Scott smiled. He looked up at Kip, and he knew. He knew for sure. Scott Hunter was in love.
He was surprised when, a few minutes later, the door clicked and opened. Scott slipped inside, looking a little lost. “I, uh,” he started. His face was pure anguish. He didn’t have his suitcase. He must have gone to the car and come back. “I was thinking… Planes, y’know? And anything can happen…” “Scott?” “I love you,” he said. “I just wanted to say that. Before I left.” Kip’s jaw hit the floor. “I don’t expect you to, y’know, say it too or anything. I know it’s probably a ridiculous thing to say or feel right now, but I am in love with you. And I wanted you to know that.”
“Kip?” Kip pressed his lips together and shook his head, trying to gather himself. “Sorry,” he said, finally. “I just… I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”
“I wanted to tell you,” Kip said. “Tell me now.” “I love you. Scott, I’m…completely in love with you.” Scott beamed and kissed him, still holding his face. Kip reached up and did the same.
“Kip,” Maria said, “you didn’t tell me that all of your cute dude friends are gay. What is even the point of me being here?” “I did tell you and, if you want, later we can go to Olive Garden or wherever straight people go.”
“How many minutes would I get if I just killed him?” Scott grumbled as he watched Rozanov skate away. “I’d have to give you at least ten,” Hal said dryly. “Not worth it in the playoffs.”
“What’s wrong with the closet? It’s a wonderful place crammed full of professional athletes.”
“Hey,” Bennett said, after they separated, “what’s his name?” Scott grinned. “Kip.” Carter looked suddenly delighted. “Kip!” he said. “That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Are you kidding me with that shit?” “Thank god,” Huff said. “I thought you were gonna say you were secretly dating Rozanov.” “Rozanov wishes,” Scott said.
Scott gave him a small, grateful smile. “I’m in love with your son, ma’am. I don’t care who knows it anymore.” Kip blushed because sheesh. Now his mother was crying. “Oh, honey,” she said, “I’m so happy for you. Both of you.” Kip smiled at Scott. “Me too.”
Scott kissed him again, and everything around them disappeared. It was just Scott and the man he loved, making out in a penalty box.
“Scott. Go. For fuck’s sake, stop worrying about me. You just won the Stanley Cup!” Scott beamed. “I just won the Stanley Cup!”
Shawn: You. Fucking. Bitch. You lying fucking bitch. We’re getting lunch together. SOON.
Rozanov seemed to consider this. “Is good. What you did. It will be good for…others.” There was something in Rozanov’s eyes that caught Scott’s attention. He hadn’t ever seen that look on his face before. Was it gratitude, maybe?
He needed to get out of here, or make peace with the fact that he was going to fuck Kip against a wall in front of god and Ilya Rozanov.
