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Scott muted ESPN as the game he was watching went to commercial break, and listened instead to Kip getting ready in the bedroom. The shower had already turned off a good ten minutes ago, and he was really only using the game to pass the time until Kip strolled out of the bedroom in his towel and made his way to the kitchen to make his breakfast.
Scott smiled at the thought of their routine. Every morning when the both of them happened to be home, Scott would wake up first, use the bathroom and shower, kiss Kip good morning, maybe do a little bit more than kiss Kip good morning, make them coffee, and wait in the living room watching whatever on the TV while Kip went through his personal routine.
It was like watching a rerun of his favorite show every morning, or a replay of a particularly spectacular goal, over and over again. Scott would never tire of it.
He heard his phone buzz, and he reached across the couch to grab it where he had thrown it earlier when he had settled in to watch the game. He took a sip of his coffee and opened the text message.
8:13 AM
From: Unknown Number
Hi Scott, this is Shane Hollander. I’m here in the city for the next day or so. Was wondering if you would want to meet up for dinner?
“You look concerned.”
Kip had entered the living room with just a towel slung low on his hips. He walked over when Scott held up his phone and said incredulously, “Look at this.”
Kip leaned in close, muttering about how he didn’t have his contacts in, and read the message.
“Shane Hollander? Who is that again?” Kip turned to grab his own phone where it was charging by the television.
“The guy from Montreal who threw a punch a couple of games ago.”
“Oh, yeah,” Kip said, now holding his own phone comically close to his face. “Yeah, I remember that fight.”
8:20 AM
From: Scott
Hey, Shane. Nice to hear from you. Sure, you mean tonight? I’m in town till Saturday.
“He’s hot.” Kip turned his phone around to show a picture of Shane’s most recent Rolex campaign and zoomed in on Shane’s face. “Look at those cute freckles.”
“You’re cute freckles,” Scott said, a dumb smile on his lips, but he didn’t care. He stopped caring about Kip, or anyone else really, knowing about how stupid he got for his boyfriend.
Kip scoffed, but a small smile crept on his lips anyway and he shook his head fondly, muttering, “that doesn’t even make sense.”
8:24 AM
From: Unknown Number
Awesome. They have me posted with a crazy suite at the Four Seasons. Want to meet me there? They have a great menu.
Scott raised his eyebrows. “Oh, oh, oh. Look who just invited me to his suite.”
Kip immediately strode over and grabbed Scott’s wrist to pull the phone close. Scott thought about suggesting he go get his glasses, but Kip was really, really cute when he read something close and he went a bit cross eyed.
Kip's mouth dropped as he read the message. “Oh, hell no.”
“What do you think? Think I should go meet him at his swanky Four Seasons suite?” Scott teased, knowing that he had absolutely no intention of going into the city on one of the few nights he and Kip had together during his season. Not to mention to a suite of a guy Kip had just called hot, no matter if said guy was straight.
Kip pursed his lips. “Please, you just came out and all of the sudden some Canadian playboy Rolex model wants to invite you up to his suite? And what? Please tell me why.”
Kip tried to hand Scott his phone back, but Scott tugged at his arm until he collapsed onto the couch next to him. Scott pulled Kip’s legs into his lap and lightly trailed his hand up Kip’s leg and under his towel, squeezing his thigh. Kip’s skin was still shower-warm and soft. Scott wanted to dig his nails in and never let go.
Scott felt Kip relax into his touch, and he started peppering kisses on Kip’s throat and jaw, breathing in the spicy aftershave Scott bought for him a few months ago.
“Probably to have his way with me,” Scott whispered against his jaw.
“Oh, my god, please. As if.” Kip half heartedly tried to push away from Scott, who kept his tight grip on the other man’s thigh, the other hand coming to rest on the back of his neck which he used to pull Kip into a real kiss.
“Yeah, as if,” he laughed. “Are you jealous?”
Kip scoffed. “Of that baby-face? Never.”
“You sure?”
Scott pulled him in again for a deeper kiss this time, his hand threading through Kip’s still damp hair.
“The only person who would ever have their dirty,” Scott kissed his jaw, then the sensitive spot in front of his right ear, “filthy, filthy way with me is you.” He kissed his way over to Kip’s mouth, placing one kiss on either side before lightly biting at his bottom lip.
Kip smiled against his lips and opened his mouth slightly, an invitation Scott knew well. He took the opportunity to press his boyfriend's mouth open with his tongue.
He gently pushed Kip down until his back was on the couch, trying his best to keep their mouths connected and kind of mostly failing. Kip giggled as Scott gracelessly collapsed over him.
Scott let his hand wander higher and higher up Kip's thigh. The knot holding the towel in Kip’s hips came undone, and Scott pulled at the cloth.
“We both just showered, babe,” Kip said, but he lifted his hips anyway, allowing Scott to pull the towel free and send it flying across the room. He pressed open-mouth kisses down Kip’s chest, biting lightly at his nipple, which earned him a delightful gasp.
“We can take another one.”
-
Later, after his second shower of the day, Scott was sitting at the counter finishing his coffee when he suddenly remembered Shane’s text. Shit. He checked the time, and he realized he had left Shane on read for an hour.
“So, wait, is it okay to invite Shane over tonight?”
Kip nodded, finishing the last bite of the egg sandwich he had made them both for breakfast. “Yeah, that’s cool.” He reached for Scott’s empty plate to take to the sink, which Scott handed to him with a wink and a soft thanks babe.
“What time are you off work again?”
“Um, my shift ends at four thirty, but Shawn might need some help cleaning up after. Want me to pick up dinner from the taco place on my way home?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll tell Shane to come over around 6:30 then?”
“Sure.”
Scott watched as Kip loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, a task Scott wasn’t allowed to do on account of the one time he accidentally ran one of Kip’s nice knives through a cycle. He had bought Kip a brand new set the next day, but the damage was done. Hand washing only.
The domesticity of it all hit Scott every time. He loved coming home to see Scott lounging on the couch, or studying at the kitchen table. And he loved watching Kip walk in and hang his keys on the hook by the door, loved watching him arrange his toiletries in the medicine cabinet, and loved the simplicity of watching him unwrap a dish pod and press the start button on the washer, waiting patiently until he heard the water running before walking away.
He wanted everyone to know how much he loved this. He wanted to everyone to know that him and Kip woke up together, drank coffee, fucked, bickered about what to order for lunch, did dishes together, fucked again, and then curled up in bed together before doing it all over again the next morning.
“You know, this will be the first time we will have someone over as a couple.”
Kip looked confused. “What? We’ve had so many people over. My dad, Maria…” he listed.
”No, sorry,” Scott said, “I meant from like, my world, I guess?”
”Your world? Like, hockey world?”
”Yeah, like another player. This will be the first time since I came out.”
Kip cocked his head to one side and looked at Scott carefully. “Are you excited about that?”
Scott didn’t have to consider his answer. “Yes,” he said immediately.
He got up from his chair and walked around the kitchen island to stand directly in front of Kip. He placed his hands on Kip’s face, cradling his jaw. Kip had to lean his head back a little to look into Scott’s eyes. “I’m so happy.”
He leaned in for a kiss. It was at first a sweet press of lips, but as Scott breathed in Kip’s aftershave, cologne, and that one scent that made Kip himself, Scott wanted more. He always wanted more, and he loved that Kip knew he wanted, needed more, and opened his mouth.
It should have been kind of gross to taste the breakfast and coffee they just shared, but it was overshadowed by the feeling, taste, and, if Scott got sappy about it, the essence of Kip. An essence that Scott could taste and smell and feel with his eyes closed—it didn’t matter if he was sitting right next to Kip or a thousand miles away.
As they broke apart, Scott whispered. “No more hiding.”
Kip smiled at him. His lips were a bit swollen from the kiss. “No more hiding.” He brought his hand up to rest on Scott’s chest. “I have to go,” he said regretfully.
With a glance at the clock, he knew Kip was right. He stole one last kiss and stepped out of Kip’s way and followed him around the apartment while he collected his books, laptop, and a notebook from the side table.
“Don’t forget to text Shane back,” Kip said as he pulled on his coat. “Let me know the pick up details for dinner.”
”Will do.”
Kip slipped his crossbody over his head and zipped up his coat. He laughed as Scott shoved his hat—another gift from Scott brought back from Canada—on his head and kissed him goodbye. “Love you.”
Another thing Scott would never tire of. “Love you, too. See you tonight, babe.”
—
9:17 AM
Scott: Sorry for the delay. What about coming to mine? About 6:30? I’m just over the bridge. We can get take out from a taco place around the corner. Way better than Four Seasons fancy shit, trust me.
9:20 AM
Shane Hollander: Sounds good. Just send me your address when you can.
—
11:44 AM
Kip: Shawn says hi
11:44 AM
Kip: Also I am in canapé hell
11:46 AM
Scott: Haha, hi Shawn. Oh no. Let me know if you need someone strong and handsome to come save you
11:46 AM
Scott: Or to run into with your tray
11:48 AM
Kip: You are so funny. You should be so lucky to have me spill quiche on your tux
11:50 AM
Scott: I know…really missed my calling as both a stand up comedian and serial killer
11:51 AM
Scott: I should be so lucky is right. Led up to the best night of my life
11:52
Kip: Sap
11:52
Scott: 😍
11:56 AM
Kip: Also I looked online and the special tonight at the taco place is birria…can you place the order now? I don’t want them to run out before I’m able to get there like last time
11:57 AM
Kip: Assuming that Shane confirmed of course
11:59 AM
Scott: Yep, he confirmed. Was super bummed I didn’t want to come check out his suite. He said he would save the chocolate covered strawberries for next time.
12:01 PM
Kip: Again…with the jokes. Hilarious.
12:02 PM
Kip: Have you guys ever hung out before?
12:04 PM
Scott: Not really. We played on the same team at the showcase and then seen each other at parties and award stuff. But not really one on one.
12:06 PM
Kip: You think he wants to apologize for the fight? Didn’t you say he started it for no reason?
12:08 PM
Scott: Actually yeah kinda. But like, things said on the ice are not to be really taken seriously? If that makes sense
12:09 PM
Kip: Like what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?
12:10 PM
Scott: Pretty much
12:18 PM
Scott: Okay looking at the menu. I’ll do the birria tacos and then some empanadas, rice, beans, and a bunch of chips and salsa and churros
12:19 PM
Kip: Perfect
12:19 PM
Scott: And obviously an extra order of churros just for you babe
12:20 PM
Kip: Ugh you know me so well
12:21 PM
Kip: Okay gotta go. Love you
12:22 PM
Scott: Love you too
—
It was only 6:17 when Scott received the I’m here text from Shane. Of course he was early. The few times that Scott had interacted with Shane—the fight notwithstanding—he had been somewhat soft spoken and very polite. The very type Scott would imagine to show up early with a bottle of wine.
He buzzed Shane up and waited by the door, leaning against the door frame as he watched Shane step off the elevator and make his way down the hall.
He was wearing only a thin coat and beanie, despite the flurries outside. If Scott had worn that outside he would have frozen within seconds— and just as Scott expected, he was holding a very expensive bottle of wine.
“Hey, Shane.”
Scott stepped aside to let Shane step through the door. “Come on in. Feel free to hang your coat up there on the rack.”
“Thanks, man. Good to see you.” Shane handed off the bottle of wine to Scott and shrugged off his jacket. He seemed surprised to see Kip’s Straw+Berry apron hanging on one of the hooks.
“Is that- does he-?” Shane looked around, as if expecting to see Kip hiding behind the table.
“Yeah, he lives with me. You think I was able to pick out the art by myself?” Scott pointed at the print Kip had hung a few months ago by the door.
“Kip’s the reason this place looks like a home, really. He’ll be here in a bit. He’s heading back from work and is picking up dinner on the way.” Scott realized that he was rambling about Kip—okay, sue him— but changed the subject anyway.
He clapped a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Anyway. Come on in.”
Shane followed Scott through the kitchen. He stopped at the large windows overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge—as most guests did—and whistled. “Quite a view.”
”Yeah, it's the reason I chose this place. Could have gotten a larger place a bit farther out but…” he trailed off, letting the view of the bridge speak for itself.
The huge windows were his favorite thing about this apartment, for many reasons.
In a cleaning spree before Shane arrived, Scott had wiped down the windows with a cloth, erasing faint handprints from a couple nights ago. Handprints left by Kip while he was bent over with Scott pushing deep inside him, watching car headlights pass over the expansive Brooklyn Bridge in front of the sparkling skyline of the city.
With a shudder, Scott remembered Kip's promise to do the same to him.
He shook his head. Not the time. “Let me make you a drink. What are you in the mood for?”
“Oh, uh-“
The bar cart rattled as Scott turned bottles around to read the labels. “So gin, bourbon. Oh, I’ve got stuff for, like, moscow mules. Kip’s friend who’s a bartender, taught me how to make them. Do you like those?”
Shane didn’t answer. His eyes seemed to become unfocused for a second, and a faint blush started creeping up his neck. He looked so deeply uncomfortable. Maybe he didn’t know what it was?
“A moscow mule? You might like it actually, its-“
“Why would I like a moscow mule?” Shane interrupted.
“Oh. It’s just that I remember at the awards ceremony in Vegas you told me you like ginger flavored things when we took the shot. Like ginger ale and ginger beer. I got this fancy Russia vodka, too-“
Shane inhaled sharply.
Scott thought frantically about what he was doing wrong. Maybe Shane didn’t drink? But he had definitely seen Shane with a beer before. Also, the aforementioned shot.
“Shane, it’s no big deal. I can do a mocktail, if that’s more your speed.” Scott offered, “we have soda, too. No big deal.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Okay,” Scott said slowly, and picked up the ingredients for the mules and a cocktail shaker. “We can make them in the kitchen here.”
Scott went through the motions Kyle had so patiently taught him (Scott wasn’t much of a mixologist, as they had found out) and watched as Shane looked around at the pictures scattered around the apartment. Shane paused in front of the fridge, looking at a photo strip that he and Kip took together at the Kingfisher’s photobooth.
Scott handed the finished drink to Shane, who took a sip. “It’s good.”
“Don’t sound too surprised,” Scott laughed.
Shane smiled weakly and leaned back against the counter. They were literally only two feet apart, but Scott felt like they could have been on separate ends of the room.
There was no getting around it. Shane was acting weird. They silently sipped their drinks for what seemed like eternity before Scott couldn’t take it anymore.
“Dude, is everything okay?”
Shane set his drink down on the counter. He stared at the floor. “How did you know?” He asked quietly.
“Uh, how did I know what?”
“Come on, stop messing with me,” Shane said. He was biting his lip and his nostrils flared slightly. “The moscow mule, the vodka…you- you’re fucking with me. How did you know?”
“Know…what?” Scott had a hunch of what Shane was referring to, but he thought it was a weird way to word the question.
Scott remembered Shane’s defiant face after he had said you’re starting to sound like him. He had clearly struck a nerve. Chirping was supposed to be light, or at least not personal or nasty. Scott hadn’t thought that the comparison to Rozanov would have cut so deep, but clearly it had.
It was obvious that Shane guarded his good reputation closely, and maybe Scott had just hit too close to home. But as much as Shane leaned into that reputation, Scott couldn’t help but notice Shane had been letting his competitive side show more often.
He knew it was there, one doesn’t get to be a player as good as Shane without it, but Shane had been different this season. Never playing dirty, like Rozanov might, but definitely seemed to be hardening around the edges.
He hadn’t realized it, but maybe it did seem like Scott was fucking with him by offering a moscow mule and Russian vodka. Shit. That was a bad look for him if he was going to try to convince Shane he didn’t mean anything really about it. He tapped his phone and the screen lit up, showing a text from Kip saying he was running late. Double shit.
He was in this alone.
“About, like, you and Rozanov?”
Shane nodded. He crossed his arms across his chest, then uncrossed them, his hands coming to grasp the edges of the counter, and Scott imagined a caged animal pacing back and forth. He leaned back against the counter and took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Yep, so that was it. “I mean, Shane, I have eyes and ears. I just noticed it.”
“Oh, my god.” Shane looked one second away from braining himself against the quartz countertop.
“Do-“ Shane sighed deeply. “Do people talk?”
“I mean, yeah, all the time. It’s pretty obvious. It’s all anyone talks about whenever you or Rozanov are brought up.” Scott shrugged, trying to convey that this is not a big deal, man.
“I mean, it’s kind of crazy, or like, funny? Like, mister nice Canadian being corrupted by evil Russian.”
It did not have the desired effect. The expression on Shane’s face was pure devastation.
“People think it’s…funny?” He whispered.
Shane ground his palms into his eyes. When he dropped them, Scott saw his eyes were a little red. Oh no. If Scott had known that Shane would be so gutted by this comment he never would have said anything. But, in his defense, it was really not that bad?
Where in the hell was Kip?
“We were so careful. I don’t understand-“ Shane’s voice was barely a whisper.
What?
“Wait,” Scott interrupted and held up a hand. “What are you talking about?”
“Me and Rozanov,” Shane sniffed and rubbed his hands over his face.
Were they even talking about the same thing?
“Shane, you don’t have to match his energy, dude. I know it’s gotta be tough being compared to each other all the time, but you’re a good enough player on your own. You don’t have to play his game. Look man, I’m sorry about the comment I made. I really didn’t know that it got to you like that.”
Slowly, a look of absolute horror fell across Shane’s face. “That’s what you were talking about?”
“What else would I be talking about? Dude, are you concussed or something?” Scott let out a forced laugh, he had to lighten the mood. He had to at least try because what the fuck was happening.
Shane shook his head silently. He suddenly patted down his pockets, turning to look at his coat hanging by the door. “Maybe I should-“
At that moment, Scott heard the miraculous sound of Kip's keys in the door and saw his boyfriend tumble through the door seconds after. “Hi! So sorry. Delays on the subway and then it took forever to get the food.”
He came around the bookshelf in front of the door, but stopped short. Scott had been with Kip long enough to know that the look on his face was clearly asking Scott exactly what the fuck is the vibe in here?
Scott tried his best to telepathy back. Please, I don’t know what’s happening. What the fuck. I think we’re fighting. Help me.
Kip came into the kitchen and Scott hurriedly took the food from him, grateful to have something to do with his hands. He then busied himself setting out the food.
“Okay, hi, I’m Kip,” Kip said pointedly looking at Scott, who jumped into action.
“I’m so sorry. Shane, this is my boyfriend, Kip. Kip, this is Shane.”
Shane, ever polite, shook Kip’s hand and muttered a "nice to meet you," but didn’t quite make eye contact. They were still red around the rims.
When it was clear there was going to be no pre-dinner small talk, Kip clapped his hands together. “Well, let’s eat, I guess. Babe, can you grab the plates?”
“Sure.” Scott scooted behind Kip to the cabinet, probably a little bit closer than he needed to, and kissed his hair above his ear. “Good day?”
“Yeah, it was fine. Yours?” He turned his head to give Scott a proper kiss.
The contact was enough to release the tension Scott had built up in his shoulders during the brief yet tremendously awful few minutes he had just had. He smiled softly before turning away to open the cabinet. He could feel Shane’s eyes on them, but he refused to let it bother him.
“We’re fucking.”
The sudden outburst from Shane nearly caused Scott to drop the plates as he whipped around.
“I’m sorry, what?” Kip was looking between them both with his mouth open, his eyebrows raised.
Scott knew he needed to explain, and explain fast, but oh my god, how could he? He didn’t know what was happening. He tried to convey this to Kip with a helpless expression.
“I mean, we’re together,” he shook his head as if to clear that thought. “I think? I don’t…I’m not actually sure.”
Scott cleared his throat. “You and…and Rozanov?”
Shane nodded, his face now hidden by his hands. He let out a tiny, muffled, “yes.”
“Like…each other?”
Kip looked at him incredulously. Shane nodded again, but the clarification that it was indeed Rozanov that Shane was fucking didn’t actually clarify anything at all.
Then nobody said anything for the worst, most awkward thirty seconds of Scott’s life.
“Okay. Well, um, the tacos are getting cold, so why don’t we...sit down to talk.” Kip took the plates that Scott was holding dangerously loose in his hands and walked to the table. “Why don’t you grab us some drinks?” He said to Scott.
“Yeah, of course. Please, Shane. Take a seat.”
Shane looked like he was hoping the floor would spontaneously swallow him whole, but walked over to the table anyway. Scott was suddenly glad the windows didn’t open all the way, or else he figured he might have a jumper on his hands.
He thanked both Kip and Scott as they set down plates, napkins, silverware, and the food. Scott was impressed that Shane’s politeness transcended the horror show that was currently happening.
As soon as Scott was where Shane couldn’t see, he shared a panicked look with Kip. What the fuck? What is happening? He mouthed. Kip mouthed back, is he gay? Scott shrugged back emphatically. I have no idea!
After they had loaded their plates to eat, Kip cleared his throat. “So what brings you to New York, Shane?”
“I had a photo shoot for Reebok, so you know, just brand stuff.”
Kip nodded encouragingly. “That’s cool.”
”Yeah, Reebok is a great, uh, company,” he looked around the table. Shane was eating like he was on death row. Kip was nodding along, trying his best to be supportive. “Great shoes.”
Kip tried his best to keep conversation flowing, but it was no use and they ate in silence. Scott pressed his foot against Kip’s under the table, silently appreciative for him trying to salvage the conversation.
After dinner, Shane was told by Kip and Scott to sit down at the island. He resisted at first, but Kip insisted as he was the guest. He sat down while watching Scott and Kip clean up as quickly as they could.
Kip dried his hands and went to wipe the table and grab the last of the food. Behind Shane’s back, he mouthed. Ask him. When Scott gave him a look like I’d rather die and, frankly, it looks like Shane might actually die.
But he knew Kip was right. Scott had realized during dinner what exactly Shane had thought he had said on the ice. What he had implied and how shitty that must have felt for Shane, especially if he had been on edge about keeping him and Rozanov’s thing, or whatever it was, a secret. He tried not to feel hurt that Shane would think he would be that awful of a person.
“So, hey.”
Shane set his phone to the side and folded his hands together on top of the counter, clearly bracing himself for the conversation ahead.
“About the Rozanov thing…” Scott trailed off. He knew he had to keep trudging before he lost steam and abandoned ship altogether. Kip had come over and stood next to Scott, placing a solid hand on his back.
“No, I’m- We don’t have to talk about it. I-I misunderstood, and I don’t…I don’t know why I said it.”
“No, I actually- I actually think we do need to talk about it.” Scott placed both hands on the counter. “Shane.”
Shane looked up.
“I think it’s important to say that, like, I would never hold something like you and,” he took a breath, because what was he even saying, “something like you and Rozanov dating over you like that.”
Shane nodded and turned his head to look out the window. Scott could tell by his steady, deliberate breathing that he was trying not to cry.
“I would hold the fact that he is an asshole over your head, but you know, that’s a separate issue,” Scott joked, which earned him a shaky smile.
“But seriously, that would be pretty hypocritical of me to say something like that. Don’t you think?” Kip ran his hand up and down Scott’s back comfortingly. He couldn’t help but lean into it.
Shane followed the movement with his eyes, then shook his head. “I guess so, yeah.” He sat silently for a second, his hands starting to fidget. “We’re not dating. We just kind of…hook up, I guess.”
”Oh,” said Scott, surprised. “But…”
“Yeah, it’s just like whenever we are in the same city.”
Kip’s fingertips dug in between his shoulder blades. Keep going.
”But you want more?”
Shane wiped his hands down his face. He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. I don’t even know what he...” He trailed off and looked up at both Scott and Kip. “You made it look so easy.”
Scott thought of the miserable months—years, really— leading up to him coming out. Not just him, but the misery he put Kip through, as well. Hiding a huge part of himself away until he met Kip, and then the misery and guilt of hiding Kip from the world.
Kip smiled softly at him, as if reading Scott’s thoughts. “I don’t think it was as easy as it looked.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, it sucked. It fucking sucked not being able to tell anyone about Kip. It sucked leading up to telling everyone, but then once it was out, everything kind of…fell into place.”
He remembered the moment he locked eyes with Kip in the stands that night. How he knew that this was it, this was the moment that changed the course of his life if only he had the strength to reach out and grab it. He knew losing that chance was looking down the barrel of a gun that would lead to loneliness and misery, wishing forever for what could have been.
“Who else knows?”
”About me? Or, about me and Rozanov?” Shane asked, shifting a bit in his seat. He picked at his fingernails.
“Both, I guess.”
”No one. Well, obviously Rozanov. But you’re the first I’ve told about…me”
Kip nodded encouragingly. “It’s not easy, and,” Kip put his hand on the counter near Shane’s. “Obviously, this is kept between us.”
Shane didn’t say anything, but nodded gratefully. “Thank you.” He pressed his phone lock screen to check the time. “I should go. It’s getting a bit late.”
Scott nodded and followed Shane to the door, Kip behind him. Shane pulled on his coat.
”Thanks for dinner.”
”Anytime, man. Let me know next time you’re in the city. Or maybe we can grab something next game.”
“I’d like that.”
Kip reached over to shake Shane’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Shane.”
”You, too,” said Shane, and then added with an embarrassed smile, “Sorry, for you know... Laying all of that on you guys.”
Scott shook his head, “don’t even worry about it, man.”
Shane still looked a bit unsure, and Scott couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at a younger version of himself. Granted, Shane was only like, three or four years younger than him, but Scott knew the feeling of embarrassment and fear Shane was no doubt experiencing.
He pulled Shane into a hug, surprising Shane—and even surprising himself a little bit. Shane sank into the hug immediately, and Scott vowed never to say anything about the shaky breath he felt Shane take or the damp spot that was left on his shoulder as Shane pulled away.
“Call me anytime,” Scott said, his hand resting on Shane’s shoulder. “Seriously.”
Shane nodded and turned to open the door. “Again, nice to meet you.”
”I’m sure we’ll see each other around. Have a good night.” Kip said with a wink.
After the elevator closed behind Shane, Kip immediately closed the door and spun towards Scott. “What the fuck just happened?”
Scott held up his hands. “Babe, I have no idea. I need a drink.”
-
“And then, he had a crisis when I asked if he wanted a moscow mule. And, babe,” Scott took another bite of the leftover tacos. He had quickly realized after Shane left that he was still starving, having not eaten a lot during the world's worst dinner party.
“You know that bottle of Russian vodka Elena brought us from that one event?”
Kip nodded, dipping his churro into chocolate sauce. He gasped, “oh my god, he definitely thought you were being such a dick.”
”Absolutely! He thought I was trying to, like, subconsciously mock him about Rozanov.”
“Oh, my god.” Kip laughed. “This is actually amazing in so many ways,” he shrugged, setting the rest of his churro down, “or well, not amazing for Shane. That man is in the throes of a gay crisis, clearly.”
Kip wrapped his arms around Scott’s neck. Scott could smell the cinnamon and sugar from the churros, and he eyed a small bit of chocolate sauce left on the corner of Kip’s mouth.
“Shane actually thought your gaydar worked, and you’ve become like a gay guru to him.”
Scott laughed. “First of all, my gaydar works fine-“
“You asked Shawn and Maria, two of my most gayest, queerest friends, if they were together.”
“Yeah, fair enough.” Kip did have a point.
”But still, I think you’ve changed things for a lot of people, and I think Shane needs you. Or at least, maybe he can look at you and see what can be.”
“Hmm,” Scott hummed. “Maybe,” he said noncommittally.
“Yes. Not maybe.” Kip said, pulling Scott in so their foreheads rested together. “I’m really proud of you.”
”Just no more dinner parties for a while. My gay guru schedule is full with Shane.”
”No. No more dinner parties,” Kip laughed.
Scott smiled down at him. “You have chocolate on your lips,” he whispered, and before Kip could respond, he leaned in for a kiss. He swiped his tongue against Kip’s mouth to taste the chocolate.
“Love you,” he sighed into the kiss.
Kip pulled away to kiss along Scott’s jaw, his hands crept up the back of Scott’s shirt, and drew him in close.
Scott wrapped his arms around Kip and squeezed—he always wanted them to be tighter, closer. He pulled Kip back so their mouths crashed together, and Scott tried to convey everything that he felt. How his life had been made better, brighter, and more solid by the sheer existence of Kip in his life. Kip pulled away briefly, just long enough to say the words he knew Scott needed to hear.
“I love you, too.”