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Kip clocks the unusually serious expression on Scott’s face the moment he gets back from practice. Most days, Scott comes home in one of two moods. Either practice went great and he’s amped up and wants to fuck Kip in the shower, or it went badly and he wants Kip to put him on his knees and tell him he’s a good boy. Kip is used to the dichotomy, always eager to see Scott when he returns.
Today, Scott comes in carrying a plain white box hugged close to his chest and a thoughtful expression on his face. Kip doesn’t have a plan for this. Serious isn’t a mood Scott usually returns in.
“Everything okay?” he asks cautiously, crossing the room to welcome Scott home with a kiss. Scott returns it distractedly and holds up the package he’s carrying. “I–” He guides Kip back to the couch before handing it over. “I got you something.”
“It’s not expensive, is it? You don’t need to keep spending money on me, I promise.”
Scott clears his throat awkwardly. “No, it’s… It didn’t cost much. It’s just something I want you to have.”
He takes Kip’s hands in his and says, almost pleadingly, “It’s important.”
Kip swallows. “Scott, what–”
“Please open it.”
He drops Scott’s hand and opens the plain white box, revealing the lush red of an Admirals jersey, the captain’s C sitting proudly on the chest. He can already picture himself wearing it to home games next season, beaming at the jumbotron camera when it inevitably hones in on him in the audience. He can't wait to show off the name on the reverse, to flaunt the name ‘HUNTER’ spelled out on his back.
Scott had told him once, that awful night of the gala, that he wanted everyone to know that Kip was his, and now everybody did. Scott had told them, and Kip refused to let them forget.
“Turn it over,” Scott says. His voice is tight, and he looks terrified when Kip looks up to meet his eyes.
“Scott–” Kip starts, concerned. A jersey shouldn’t have Scott this nervous. It’s just a piece of fabric.
“Please,” Scott says softly.
Kip turns it over.
The number 21 covers most of the back, but that’s not what catches his eye. It’s the name. In the place of the expected ‘HUNTER’, the name ‘HUNTER-GRADY’ sits, bold as anything.
Kip stares at it, his breath catching in his throat, and when he finally tears his eyes away from the material, Scott has already slid off the couch and dropped to one knee.
“Scott–”
“I know we’ve talked about getting married,” he says, and pulls a ring box out of his pocket. “But we haven’t talked about names. I can’t–I can’t give up ‘Hunter’ completely. My parents–”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Kip whispers.
“I know. I just. I want people to know that I’m yours.”
And that’s…that’s a different thing entirely, isn’t it?
“You are,” Kip agrees, reaching out with one hand to stroke the side of his face. He looks so good on his knees, asking Kip for forever.
“Marry me?” Scott asks.
“Absolutely.”
The ring is silver, a simple band with star patterns engraved. Tiny diamonds dot the larger stars. It’s exactly the kind of ring that Kip is happy to wear, not flashy or showy but solid and real. He lets Scott slip it onto his finger and pulls him into a kiss.
“I’m sorry the proposal wasn’t fancy,” Scott murmurs. “I just. I wanted it to just be us. No onlookers, no cameras. They gave me the first jersey off the production line today after practice and I didn’t want to wait another minute. And we’ve talked about it so much already that–”
“Scott,” Kip interrupts. He may love Scott’s voice, but talking isn’t what he wants to be doing right now. “I never needed a big proposal. I think I’ve had enough epic romantic moments to last a lifetime. I’m ready to just…be your husband.”
“Me, too,” Scott says, and carries him to their bed.