Work Text:
“That new shower head was the best decision we made,” Kip announced happily as he walked towards the kitchen.
“Fuck,” he heard Scott exclaim, which made him pause.
Their morning had been good so far. Very good, by Kip's standards. Kip had a day off, and Scott's physio for his injured right arm wasn’t until later in the day, so they'd indulged and slept in. Then, Kip had made a very compelling argument for Scott to stay in bed much longer. Kip had needed a shower and Scott needed to eat. They'd trade places after and maybe Kip could get some extra quality time in and maybe even a lunch date before Scott had to leave.
If Scott was swearing – and not in bed writhing under him – that couldn’t be good.
“Scott? Everything okay?”
In lieu of an answer, he heard more expletives and saw a broom fly towards the refrigerator.
When he reached the kitchen, Scott was sitting on the floor, surrounded by coffee grinds which explained the broom. His head was resting on his bent knees, and Kip suspected he might be crying.
Kip just sunk to his knees in front of his husband, and ran a hand through his hair, telling him everything would be okay. After long minutes that Kip lost track of, Scott finally looked up at him.
“It’s not getting better,” Scott told him.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” was all Kip could say. He’d learned quickly that reminding Scott he had to be patient with his recovery would only give him a far grumpier husband. And grumpy Scott was never pleasant.
“It’s been almost 6 months of this. I should be able to make a fucking pot of coffee without making a mess! Hell, I should be able to hold a fucking broom.” Scott waved his right hand up, like he was trying to berate it into working properly again.
Kip listened, like he always did, as Scott unloaded his frustrations about having barely regained full strength in his right hand. About how this season was supposed to be different, and he’d prove to everyone he could still play with the new generation of rookies.
“When’s your next proper check-up,” Kip asked when Scott had stopped talking.
“Next week. Tuesday, I think.”
Scott let his head rest against the cupboard behind him and closed his eyes. Kip carded his fingers in his hair and let his fingers trail down the side of his face.
“All the sports commentators think I should retire,” Scott finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, fresh tears spilling over his sad blue eyes.
“Oh, babe.” Kip pushed Scott’s knees down and shuffled until he could straddle Scott’s outstretched legs. He hugged Scott. “They don’t decide your future. Only you know when you’re done.”
“They might-“ Scott took a deep, shaky breath and Kip pulled back to look at him. “I think they’re right though.”
Kip wasn’t sure what to answer to that. The idea of retiring so young – by regular age standards – still boggled Kip’s mind. Scott was only 38. It wasn’t that old. But by hockey standards, Scott’s career was nearing its end. They’d discussed Scott retiring a few times since Scott’s 35th birthday. It had more to do with contract negotiations and Kip accepting a promotion at work than anything.
The previous summer was the first time it came up in a more serious way. Eric had asked him, and Scott had been adamant he wasn’t ready to retire. Not yet. He had trained hard during the off season and was in amazing shape going into the new season. Reporters asked him at every chance if this might be his last season, and Scott’s answer never wavered. He was not done.
For him to acknowledge it, in any way, was not a small thing.
Kip cradled Scott’s face in his hands. “Is this you talking, or is this them getting into your head,” Kip asked calmly.
“Maybe both?” Scott shrugged. “This isn’t how I wanted my career to end, you know? I wanted a shot to end it on my terms. Maybe go for another Cup run. Be there for the new kids, for the team. Instead, I can barely hold a broom, let alone a hockey stick… I feel like I let everyone down.”
“You did no such thing. I know for a fact that is not true. You’ve been to every practice you could manage. You’ve mentored all the newbies off the ice. Taken their calls when they were on the road. You might not have been on the ice with them ‘cause of the injury, but you were still the Captain of that team. You still are.”
Scott nodded and Kip kissed his forehead, lingering there a beat longer than strictly necessary.
“Whatever you decide to do, I will be right here by your side.”
“I wanted- I was hoping for more time. I have no idea what I do after this. This is all I’ve ever known. Playing hockey is all I know. What the heck am I if I’m not Scott Hunter: Hockey Superstar?”
Kip definitely knew this was the frustration and exhaustion talking.
“You are more than just a hockey player, Scott. Your legacy in this league is far bigger than just your stats on the ice. How many of the new kids that got drafted this year said they felt safe coming out to their teammates and being honest during their interviews with NHL teams?”
“That was cause of Rozanov-
“They mentioned them, sure. Some of th barely looked like they were born when you came out. But it was you too. And Ilya said himself you inspired him and Shane. Lord only knows if they’d have gotten thwir heads out of their asses if it weren’t for you. Scott, that was you. Maybe not directly in every case, but it was you. Baby, you are more – so much more – than just a hockey player.” Kip brought his lips to Scott’s. “You don’t have to have everything figured out tomorrow. Or even today, or next week. We have options. You can wait and see before making a decision, talk to the doctor next week see if there’s something else going on. But we don’t have to have our whole future figured out the moment you decide this. Just know, you are not alone. I’m not going anywhere.”
Scott kissed him this time. “I have no idea how I’d be doing any of this without you. I love you, so fucking much.”
“Ditto. How about you go shower, and I can take care of breakfast?”
“I can help clean up my mess. Just need help getting the stick-vac off the charger.”
“That is something I can help with. Then shower and breakfast in bed. I will not take no for an answer.”
Scott nodded and they went about with the newly set morning plan. Kip hated what this injury had done to Scott – as much mentally as physically. But he had meant it. He wasn’t going anywhere and he’d make damned sure Scott never doubted for one second that he was more than just a hockey player, no matter when or why he retired.