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Kip has been slowly drowning for days. Or maybe that’s not entirely accurate. The actual drowning started mere hours ago but he’s been stuck in place, watching the water rise for days. The first trickles pierced his bubble after the disaster that was their gallery date. A needle stuck into the balloon that has kept them afloat, doubts creeping in.
He ignored it. Reassured Scott and moved on. But water—and doubt—always finds its way.
There have been more punctures, more trickles of water since.
The unintentional, heavy-handed metaphor of the note on the tux he’s wearing proclaiming Kip to be Scott’s man only in the safety of a New York penthouse apartment, behind multiple locked doors, in the confines of a literal closet though: that was a breach he had no defenses for. Especially on the heels of just having lied to his Dad again. The trickle became a flood, pouring in and sweeping everything with it. He held his chin high throughout the gala, trading water and staving off the inevitable until they’re back in the penthouse, alone, already breaking apart and drifting off into different directions. Kip chokes on the words and the emotions and still tries to salvage this. He’s grasping for straws while gasping for air.
And the worst thing is, he can see Scott drowning, too. His face a brittle mask of composure as Kip talks but his eyes are those of a hunted animal, backed into a corner. He swallows, swallows again and nods and all the while the same scream lodged in Kip’s throat seems to tear Scott into pieces, too.
How did they get here, caught in the darkness, on two sides of a kitchen counter but so much further apart? How did they get here, drowning on the twenty-first floor of a New York high rise?
But no, he was wrong. The worst thing is knowing exactly how they got here, none of it a mystery. The worst thing is knowing that neither of them did anything wrong, and they still ended up here. Five seconds away from a failed relationship. Five minutes, maybe, if Scott argues only it doesn’t look like he will.
Kip’s shoulders sag even lower.
He opens his mouth, the words that will announce he’s going to leave—at least for tonight, but possibly forever, if he’s strong enough—scorching his tongue. But he doesn’t say them. He wants to, but the moment he starts, an apologetic, awkward “I” falling from his lips, Scott disappears.
Kip blinks, mouth opening and closing several times. His body reacts sluggishly, brain and muscles alike, and he hasn’t even decided to round the counter yet, hasn’t gotten his body into motion, when something very small darts out from behind it and dashes off in the direction of the bedroom with erratic, frantic movements, half jumping over the couch.
Kip closes his mouth. Blinks again.
What the fuck?
He turns, all thoughts of drowning suspended for the moment. He finally gets his feet to start walking and makes his way over to the bedroom.
“Scott?” he calls out into the dimly lit room.
But Scott doesn’t answer. Probably because he can’t answer. Because he’s no longer Scott. In place of his (possibly? still?) boyfriend, Kip only finds one small, white bunny burrowed half underneath the pillow on the bed, the fluffy tail twitching as it attempts to dig itself deeper into the mattress.
“Uhm …”
So, that happened. Apparently.
He could leave. Maybe should, too. Scott obviously won’t stop him. Kip can leave and then he will make his way back home, drowning all the way. Except, it’s kind of hard to concentrate on that when your (ex?) boyfriend has just revealed himself to be a shifter.
Shifters aren’t rare, exactly, but they’re also not terribly common. Not as common as low level elemental powers anyway. Kip doesn’t have a single spark of magic himself, but most of his friends do. Most of the people in his classes had. Most of the people walking into Straw+Berry surely had. In a way, he'd kind of liked that Scott wasn’t magical either. They’ve never talked about it but they’ve been living in each other’s pocket for two months and it usually comes up sooner than later. A candle lit from across the room, a spilled drink cleared up with just a gesture. Something small and mundane and you go ‘ah’ and then move on.
But Scott had never shown any signs of being magical. So Kip simply assumed he wasn’t. Because shifters aren’t common. Really, the chances of tripping over an unexpected fairy walrus on your doorstep are way higher than meeting an actual shifter in person. Especially in New York, where the squishy boulders are battling the resident pigeons for dominance over the city. Okay, maybe shifter populations are also higher in New York than elsewhere. Now that he thinks about it, that seems pretty likely. He might have to Noogle that at some point when he’s not currently trying to wrap his brain around the fact that his six feet tall hockey player of a boyfriend (ex boyfriend?) just turned into a bunny barely larger than Kip’s hand. Just the physics of it breaks Kip’s brain a little.
He isn’t sure if he’s angry with Scott for not telling him about this. Maybe he should be. It’s a big thing, right? Even if the bunny of it all is very small. But Kip’s brain is a foggy swamp and his heart is cracked and the shivering bunny on the bed, half hidden under the pillow, is honestly too pathetic to be angry at.
“Scott,” Kip says again, softer this time.
He walks over to the bed, the bunny going completely still. Kip isn’t sure why he kicks off his shoes, why he crawls onto the bed and sits with his back to the headboard, close enough to touch the bunny if he wanted, waiting.
“I’m sorry, Scott,” he finds himself saying.
He slowly reaches out but loses heart before his fingertips find soft fur, his hand falling down on the duvet instead. It seems absurdly large next to the bunny.
The bunny twitches, a shiver running through the small body. But after another minute or so, the bunny turns around and slowly, hesitatingly changes direction until two round, black eyes look up at Kip.
Kip tries to smile.
He’s no longer drowning, even though the flood hasn’t receded. The bed turned into a temporary raft. But he still doesn’t know how to navigate these waters. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes and he sniffs, smile wobbling.
“It’s not your fault, you know that, right?”
The bunny ducks its head. Of course Scott thinks it’s his fault. He always thinks everything is his fault.
“I mean it, Scott.”
He lifts his hand again, and this time, he brushes his finger lightly along Scott’s cheek.
“You’re really cute as a bunny by the way. I wish you’d told me.”
Scott looks up at him again, hesitates, and then hops over, white fur glinting in the refracted light from the moon and the street. He rests his face against Kip’s thigh and Kip takes that as an invitation to stroke over his head and back.
“It’s okay though, that you didn’t,” Kip reassures him.
It feels like it should change things, Scott being a shifter, being magical after all, but Kip finds it doesn’t, somehow. He knows Scott. He knows him in a way that should be impossible after just two months, in a way that it should be impossible to know any one person at all. Scott being able to turn into a bunny already seems the most logical thing in the world to Kip. Of course he does. It’s as if Kip had just forgotten about it until now. It doesn’t make sense but then, nothing about them ever has.
Which is exactly the reason why they’re here.
Kip sighs and closes his eyes, the water lapping at his throat and he’s fighting for breath again. His hand stills and then curls around Scott’s small body, only his thumb continuing to run through Scott’s fur in short, absent-minded movements.
“I meant to leave tonight …”
Kip nearly chokes on the words, his throat dry while his eyes swim with tears, blinking into the twilight. The bunny by his side stops moving altogether, almost seems to stop breathing.
“I don’t want to but I …”
He suddenly gasps for breath, dissolving the sob in air at the last moment. But it’s only the first sob. Not the last. A flood all on their own.
“I just, I just can’t do it anymore, Scott.”
He sobs again, pulls his legs up and curls over them. His belt buckle digs painfully into his stomach but he doesn’t care, doesn’t care about his tears soaking the expensive fabric at his knees, as he curls in on himself, loud, ugly sobs raging through his body.
He barely notices the bunny wriggling out of his hold, his arm lifting almost on its own, joining the other already wrapped around his knees. But the next moment, the mattress dips and Kip’s axis tilts as he gets drawn into a familiar warm chest, strong arms holding him.
“I’m so sorry,” Scott murmurs into his hair, follows his words with a kiss, and then just holds Kip as he, finally, drowns.
At the other end of the flood is emptiness, a barren land in which all emotions seem distant and muted, hazy around the edges. At some point, Kip unfolded in Scott’s embrace enough to wrap his arms around him. At some point, he pressed his face into Scott’s shoulder. They’re still sitting on the bed like that, two shipwrecked survivors, legs angled awkwardly away from their entwined upper bodies, clinging to each other.
“I’m so sorry,” Scott says again, hoarse and pained, as if the words are glass shards in his mouth. “I didn’t know you were so unhappy.”
Kip sniffs. Colour is slowly seeping back into his mind, tinting the hazy emotions. He’s a mess and he looks like one and he knows that, but he still pulls back until he can see Scott’s face, so Scott can see how serious he is on his. “You couldn’t have known.”
Scott frowns, mouth opening, and Kip doesn’t miss the silvery lines on his cheeks where Scott’s own tears left them wet.
“You couldn’t have known,” he repeats. Then a chuckle breaks out of his throat. It’s a bedraggled little thing, barely recognisable in the darkness, with sharp edges all around. “It really would have been so much better if I was some loner loser, or at least someone whose friends are all miles away and who never talks to his parents. Instead of the gossipy bitch I am.”
He wipes his sleeve across his eyes, and then winces as he remembers he’s wearing a bespoke tux, while Scott makes a sound somewhere between a bark and a choke. He opens his mouth again but, again, Kip doesn’t let him speak. His voice is a wreck, hoarse and raw, and every word hurts but he needs Scott to understand.
“I know some people go weeks and months without speaking to their parents or their friends, just text them every now and then while everyone carries on with their lives. And someone like that … they probably wouldn’t mind the hiding. Or not as much. Because it would be so much easier. To hide. To Lie. But that’s not me. I know it’s only been two months and that’s, like, nothing, really, but I’ve never gone so long keeping a secret from my Dad or my friends. I’ve never lied to them for so long. In a way, it would be better if I didn’t …,” he chokes on the word ‘love’, can’t bring himself to say it, not right now, so he just barrels on. “Because if you were just some guy I was fucking, then I wouldn’t want to tell everyone about you, and about us. I’d maybe share some salacious details to amuse the others and that would be that. We’d all have a laugh and then talk about something else. But I— You’re the most important thing that’s ever happened to me, Scott, and I can’t tell them!”
He wipes his nose on his sleeve again. The suit is probably ruined now anyway. He finds that he no longer cares.
Scott swallows, hard, but nods.
“I didn’t realise.” His voice sounds exactly as wrecked as Kip’s own. “I didn’t realise how much you were giving up for me and for that I’m truly sorry, Kip.” Scott’s eyes are pleading with Kip and maybe Kip should be angry with him for not realising any of this sooner. But … given how Scott lives his own life, barely letting himself be friends with anyone and so incredibly lonely, is it really fair to expect him to understand? To fully realise what all of this has meant for Kip? It’s not like Kip ever told him before today.
“I know. I’m sorry, too. I should have told you sooner. But,” he shrugs, a small smile tugging on his lips, “I was very happy whenever we were together. It’s just, you know, all the rest of the time that I wasn’t.”
“I wish you’d told me.”
Kip bows his head. “I know. I’m sorry. I guess I … I guess I didn’t quite realise how miserable I was either. Or, at least I didn’t want to acknowledge it and just tried to hold onto the good things for as long as I could.” He looks up again and now it’s his eyes that are pleading, willing Scott to believe him. “I tried, Scott. I really did.”
Scott blinks away new tears, his face twitching as he fights against them. “And if you tell your Dad? And your friends?” The words are a mere gravelly whisper in the darkness. He looks scared.
For all the times Kip’s doubted whether Scott really loves him, he doesn’t doubt now. Just lifts his hand to Scott’s cheek, thumb rubbing over smooth, wet skin, while his pinky and ring finger trace the familiar softness of Scott’s beard.
“You’re not ready,” he says gently.
He’s not angry about that. He never was. He just really really wishes it was different.
Scott sniffs, loud and ugly and desperate as new tears flow. “But that means you leave and I can’t … I can’t lose you, Kip!”
“You’ll get over me. You’ll find someone else, once you’re ready, when—” Kip’s voice gives out and he fights for breath, fights the water closing over him again as his mind is flooded with images of Scott with some other man.
Scott shakes his head violently, eyes squeezed shut as if he, too, is being assaulted by images he doesn’t want to see. He pulls Kip closer and Kip is too weak to resist, wants nothing more than to stay in Scott’s arms, relishes the faint pain where Scott grips onto him so hard he might actually bruise. He curls into a ball and lets Scott hold him, as if he could push all their problems out of his head if he just makes himself small enough.
He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Eventually, Scott’s grip eases and he starts stroking Kip’s back and head, soft kisses falling on his forehead. Kip’s breaths even out. He feels raw, scraped out for the second time that night.
“I love you, Kip,” Scott whispers and Kip makes an involuntary wounded little sound. “I love you and I can’t lose you. So if the choice is between letting you go and coming out,” Scott takes a deep breath, “I will come out.” His voice is low but steady. Determined.
Kip blinks up at him. “I never wanted to turn this into an ultimatum,” he protests.
Scott’s answering smile is soft and fond but also so sad it breaks Kip’s heart all over again. “I know, darling.” He closes his eyes for a long moment, breathing in and out, and then focuses back on Kip. “Elena already knows. And if you say we can trust her, then I trust her.”
Every line in Scott’s body is tense but his gaze is steady. A promise. He might not trust Elena fully yet, but Kip knows Scott. And Scott has just made a decision. He’ll see it through. The question is just what the cost will be.
“You tell your Dad, and everyone else you need to tell whom you can trust. I … I can’t do the Kingfisher for your birthday, not yet, but maybe we can compromise. Meet somewhere more private and discreet. Here or … or somewhere else. Wherever you want. And I’ll … I’ll talk to Carter, and Eric, and Huff and see how they’ll take it,” There’s a slight tremor to Scott’s voice now but his gaze is unwavering as a laser, “and I’ll talk to Coach, my agent … then the rest of the team and the club and … well I guess my agent will talk to my sponsors and we can make a plan and—”
Kip lays his hand on Scott’s arm and the flow of words stops abruptly. Scott blinks, the iron grip on his facial features slipping as doubt creeps in.
“You really don’t have to do that, Scott. Not if you’re not ready. Not … not for someone you’ve only known for two months!”
He wants to believe Scott will do all of that for him but watching him, every muscle tense as if he’s just waiting for an attack, an animal in a trap … he just can’t let him do that. Not for his sake.
But Scott, strangely, relaxes and chuckles, head bent. When he looks at Kip again, a wry smile flutters around his lips, his eyes boring into Kip’s. “I’m gonna say something very very intense now and you’re free to call me crazy and mad and everything afterwards but … I don’t care that it’s only been two months, Kip. That doesn’t matter when you know you want to spend the rest of your life with someone.”
At Kip’s soft gasp, Scott chuckles again, although it’s not a happy sound. Then he sighs. “I know it’s too early, way too early to say anything like that. And I know it’s too early to decide that and there’s obviously so much we still have to figure out,” the laugh is a little desperate now, “and it’s not gonna be easy to come out or to be out and I don’t know what’s gonna happen and if I can even continue to play or … and I get it if that’s too much for you but I—” He sighs again, somehow shrinking into himself. “That’s what I was hoping where this was going. So yeah, call me insane if you want, but I—” He stops again, grasping for words that won’t come, and eventually gives up. Shrugs. Waits for Kip to react.
Except Kip doesn’t know how to react. He’s seen Elena take Scott apart tonight with just a few words, he’s learned Scott can turn into a small fluffy bunny, he didn’t think there was much left that could stun him into silence. And yet here he is, speechless.
He should call Scott insane. He knows he should. But if that’s insanity, he’s caught it, too. And so, in the end, he just lunges back into Scott’s arms and kisses him, licking the salt from his lips, and chasing the faintly lingering taste of whiskey into his mouth. It’s not a good kiss. Too much teeth and desperation. But neither of them cares.
“So,” Scott eventually pants when they come back up for air, “not too insane?”
“You’re driving me insane,” Kip growls back and attacks Scott again.
Neither of them is gentle as they tear each other’s clothes off, nails raking over skin, teeth claiming territory they’ve conquered long ago. They don’t talk, barely make any sounds at all, and Kip is happy to drown in a different sea for a while.
“Are you really ready to do all that? You know, what you said earlier?” Kip rakes his fingers slowly through Scott’s messed up hair; Scott’s head is resting on Kip’s chest, his arm slung across Kip’s hip. Kip has a headache and feels kind of floaty, all of him empty. He knows they should get up, drink something, hydrate. But he can’t make himself leave the bed.
Scott’s fingers tighten for a moment but then he takes a deep breath and nods, beard scratching against Kip’s skin. “I’m not sure I ever will be fully ready but I’m willing to do it. I can’t keep you in a cage forever.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean—”
Scott looks up at him. “I want to do it. It’ll be scary as fuck but if you’re by my side …?”
“Yeah, yeah of course.”
“Then I can do it.”
“I mean, you don’t have to do it all at once. As long as I don’t have to lie to my Dad and my friends anymore … I’ll be fine.”
Scott frowns and Kip amends: “Well, for now. Not saying I’d be fine with that forever but, it’s a start. An important start. And yeah, asking you to come to the Kingfisher was stupid of me, I should have known you would say no, and I’m sorry for that. But we can totally hang out with my friends in private, get you used to a few other people knowing about you and about you and me. Before you let anyone on your side know.”
Scott hums, eyes growing distant as he thinks about it. “Yeah. Yeah okay.”
“Fair warning, my friends will tease you, but they’re a good bunch and they’ll only do it because they love me. My Dad … well, he’ll probably be ecstatic. Or, well, maybe not ecstatic, he isn’t really that excitable, but I am very sure he will love you.”
“You think?” Scott clears his throat, but Kip catches the pure longing in his eyes. It’s been so fucking long since Scott had any family and every time Kip thinks about it, he wants to tear the universe apart for being so cruel to Scott.
“Yeah. I know. He’ll love you because you make me happy.”
Scott opens his mouth, probably to argue, to say something about Kip being so fucking miserable just half an hour ago, but he wisely closes his mouth again at Kip’s warning raise of his eyebrows.
Instead he just says “Okay” and rests his cheek back on Kip’s chest.
The future is still scary. But at least there’s a plan. And Scott doesn’t have to come out to all the world at once. They’ll be okay. He’s sure of it. Because he loves Scott and Scott, famous hockey star and bunny shifter, loves him.
Kip smiles at the memory of the little white bunny, of soft fur between his fingers. He hopes Scott will let him see him like that again. Ideally in a situation where Scott is not shifting to get out of an argument he doesn’t want to hear. When he’s shifting because he’s comfortable with Kip, not uncomfortable. They could cuddle up on the couch together, or he could feed him blueberries and bananas, he could—
He gasps and pokes Scott’s shoulder. “Hey Scott?”
“Hm?”
“Do many people know you can shift into a bunny?”
“No, not really. The medical team, a few people on my team but … not a lot. Why?”
Kip shifts, dislodging Scott from his comfy pillow (to his softly grumbled displeasure), but Kip needs to have this conversation eye to eye. Scott’s brows lift as Kip smiles excitedly at him.
“So … if you and I go out in public, me as me and you in your bunny form …?”
Scott’s eyes widen. “... then nobody would recognise me!”
“I mean, it wouldn’t be the same, of course. No holding hands and showing everyone we’re together, but we could go to the park or I can show you my favourite museums … I mean, it’s possible, right? And if anyone asks why I’m walking around with a bunny, I can just tell them you’re my socially anxious friend who is afraid of crowds and prefers to hang out as a bunny instead of as a human … you know, or something like that.”
“ … you’d be lying again.”
“Yeah, but I mean, lying to random strangers is different. Not ideal, maybe, but definitely not on the same level as lying to my Dad and my friends.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Scott smiles his first true smile since they’ve returned to the apartment, the one Kip is obsessed with. “Yeah. That sounds good. Really good.”
A very loud part in Kip’s brain starts making lists of places to visit with bun Scott and plans of things they can do with his friends. He tries to quieten it down. There’s time enough for that yet. Because he’s not going anywhere.
Well, except to the kitchen to finally get them some water. Scott doesn’t want to let him go even that far but with a few reassuring words from Kip, he relents, and when Kip returns, cleaned up and carrying two large glasses of water, he smiles that genuine smile again Kip could look at for the rest of his life.
And he might get to do just that. If he's lucky.
It probably is crazy. They’re probably crazy. Talking about forever after just two months. He has no doubts Elena at least, but probably his other friends, too, will tell him so. Repeatedly. But he doesn’t care. It feels too right. And after they’ve diligently drained their glasses, Kip snuggles right back into Scott’s arms, with no intention to leave again any time soon.
He’s almost drifted off to sleep when Scott murmurs: “I’m sorry I never told you about being a shifter.”
Kip blinks his eyes open again and yawns. “Why didn’t you?”
A deprecating chuckle rumbles through Scott’s chest. “` suppose I was embarrassed.”
“About being a shifter?”
“About being a bunny shifter. It’s not very … manly.” He frowns at the last word, obviously realising how stupid that sounds.
“Well, I think it’s adorable. And you know you never have to pretend with me. I’d love to hear more about it but, uh, maybe tomorrow?” He yawns again. It’s been a long night.
Scott chuckles and presses a brief kiss to Kip’s lips. “Yeah, of course.” He hesitates, frowns, and then asks: “Is it okay if I … I mean, would you mind if I—”
“You want to shift?” Kip tries not to sound too excited about it.
“Yeah?” Scott’s eyes are pleading again.
Kip has no idea why he would ever say no to that but it’s probably been a while since Scott shifted (not counting tonight’s shift) and possibly even longer since he shifted in the presence of someone else. He’ll have to ask him about it later. Tomorrow maybe. Right now, he just makes sure to smile as bright as he can as he says: “Yeah, of course, love.”
But then the practical side of him makes him add: “If you’re not afraid I’ll crush you in the night or something?” He winces. That would definitely not be … great.
Scott chuckles again and rubs his nose against Kip’s cheek. “I know you won’t. And I can shift back any time.”
“Okay, then … yeah, of course I don’t mind. Not at all.”
He gets one last glimpse at Scott’s brilliant smile before his boyfriend is replaced with one small fluffy bunny. If he’s honest with himself, Kip does kind of miss Scott’s arms around him. But the contented bunny sigh Scott makes as he stretches out along Kip’s jaw and chin, soft fur tickling Kip’s throat, makes more than up for it.
They’ve still got a lot to figure out but this makes sense. They’re no longer drowning. They can do this, hop by little hop.