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Scott Hunter had known he was gay from the age of fourteen but he still found himself getting married to a woman.
Kip was perfect. She was smart, pretty and had confidence enough for both of them. Scott loved her. That wasn’t something he was faking. She might have been covered enough oil paint to be a fire hazard but that didn’t really matter.
Kip sat Scott down on a random Saturday in 2015, interrupting his daily hate listen to Man In The Crease.
“I think we need to get divorced.”
Scott was never going to stop falling from that rug pull.
“Divorce? What? I didn’t realise you weren’t happy.”
“It’s not about you Scott. It’s about me. I’m just………I’ve realised I’m trans. I’m a man. You’re straight. I love you but I’m not going to make you stay with a gender you aren’t attracted to and I can’t force myself to stay like this any longer, even for you.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Kip was a man. Not a woman. Scott had married a man. By accident. He was fine and couldn’t be weird about this.
It took Kip shifting away looking like he was on the brink of crying for Scott to realise he’d just been sitting there with his mouth hanging open.
“I’m actually not straight?” Come on Hunter, you can get literally two words out. And make them sound like a statement not a question. “I’m gay.”
Kip just stared at him “Ok, so maybe we don’t need to get divorced then.”
Scott had an existential crisis in the shower that night but a hopeful one, if such a thing existed.
Kip cut his hair in the bathroom the next week. It had spilled out across the floor. He was just staring at the wall, face completely blank but still shaking.
“Be honest I look like I run a tumblr aesthetic blog.”
“No you look fine. It’s just very short. Caught me off guard a bit.”
Scott settled himself next to Kip who was still staring at the wall.
“You can leave me. If you want. I’m probably not gonna come out at any point in my career. The team matters more than me and any unhappiness I have is pretty insignificant. I don’t want you stuck in that position though.”
“That’s kind of needlessly dulce et decorum est as a sentiment.”
“What?”
“How sweet and fitting it is to die for one’s country. It has classical origins obviously but I’m thinking about Wilfred Owen. He died days before the First World War ended. And he was gay. The way you all talk about hockey, you sound like soldiers. It scares me.”
“Kip, I’m not about to die because I’m playing a sport that gives me some physical pain and emotional discomfort. I’m an athlete, not a soldier."
Kip stared at the pool of curly hair surrounding him in a halo on the bathroom floor. “You forget, I’m a classical historian. Sport and war have always been the same thing. The ice is your colosseum Scott".
Fuck, that was incredibly bleak but also extremely Kip.
“I’d have missed these kinds of conversations if we’d got divorced.”
A hand gripped Scott’s knee. Shaky but forgiving. “We’ll fix it. I can deal with us being publicly closeted for a bit. For now, I’m gonna go clear up my mess.”
Kip the wife had always been cheerful and bubbly but with something sad and restricted inherent in every step. Kip the husband was as easygoing and happy but in a way that felt more genuine. Nothing holding him back anymore.
His new haircut had seemed to give him a new sense of life. Constantly running his fingers through it, pulling at the strands. Scott would reach out to touch it sometimes too. He’d never used to feel hesitant around Kip. But this was practically a new person.
The rumour mill started up in earnest two weeks after Scott and Kip came out to each other. Separated was the most common theory. Drugs was another frequent one, as was somehow death. Kip found the gossip mags endlessly hilarious and read out headlines to Scott over breakfast.
“Fucking hell, I’m going crazy. I need to leave the apartment. You don’t have to come with obviously since you’ve got a game tomorrow, I’m just gonna see my dad and Elena. I guess I’m coming out to them. It feels like something I need to do. Are you okay with them knowing you're gay?”
Scott bent down and kissed Kip’s forehead. “Yes, my father in law and your best friend are allowed to know that I’m gay. You can tell Maria, Shawn and Kyle too if you want. I know they’re gossipy but I trust them to keep that secret.”
Kip swatted at his chest lightly. “Go to practice Mr Captain of the New York Admirals. I’ll be back before you finish up.”
Practice felt alarmingly like Scott had transformed into a moving target. He knew logically that the guys were all completely oblivious but inside, he felt like he had a sign on his back saying GAY!!!! GAY AND MARRIED TO A MAN!!!! He barely stumbled out without having a breakdown. Scott Hunter was not a man accustomed to keeping someone else’s secret.
Kip wasn’t wearing a shirt when he got in. Instead, he seemed to be trying to wrestle his way into a long sports bra, where he’d managed to get his head stuck.
“Scott??? Little help please??? Can you make it go down over my chest and not be stuck on my head?”
Scott managed to push it down and Kip’s chest was just flat. Instead of looking like he had tits, Kip looked like he did a lot of chest presses.
“I love it! Oh my god, ok, I need to grab a shirt.”
One button-down later, Kip was staring entranced at himself in the mirror. He really did just look…….well, like a dude. A really hot dude. Scott realised that the past month had been the most truly attracted he’d been to his husband.
He was just a normal gay man with a husband who he’d been married to for two years. Hockey did not exist.
“You look really sexy.”
Kip grinned at him. “You think?” Then he took a deep breath. “I feel sexy. I feel the most like me I’ve ever felt. It’s weird but also amazing.”
He’d taken to scrolling through several ftm related websites. Scott walked in on him once while he was buying dicks.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying a strap on in case we ever feel like me topping you. Also buying a packer. For a regular, non sexy penis.”
Scott had shame watched enough gay porn to have a rough idea how bottoming worked and damn, he was so down if Kip wanted to do that.
Neither of them breached even the concept of telling the Admirals until almost a year later. Kip had been taking testosterone shots for three months and was complaining about both the voice cracks and the acne. None of the players or the WAGS had seen him since two days before Kip came out to Scott.
Scott decided to invite the three guys he trusted the most over. Huff, Carter and Eric. The guys he knew could and would keep a secret. Carter had two moms and ran the pride initiative every year, Huff punched anyone he heard using any slur in the locker room and Eric……Scott was fairly sure he wasn’t heterosexual.
“Shit dude, I don’t think we’ve been here in a year at least.” Carter practically climbed Scott as he hugged him, then lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Did you and Kip get divorced?”
Scott swallowed his frustration at even his best friends believing that stupid fucking rumour.
“Just sit down guys, I’ll get you up to speed.”
They all sat in a row, cautiously staring over at Scott.
“So, I’m sure you’ve all noticed that Kip hasn't really gone to any games since before last season. And I’ve been a lot less down to do social stuff. And there’s a reason for that. I’m gay.”
All three of them took in a slightly startled breath at the same time. Carter reached out to rub Scott’s shoulder, wide eyed.
“Thanks for telling us, that’s super fucking brave. I’m really sorry about Kip, that must have been hard.”
Be normal Scott. Kip wants them to know.
He gripped Carter’s shoulder back on reflex.
“Dude, we’re still married. Not divorced, not even separated. Kip’s transgender. He’s my husband.”
Huff let out a low whistle but other than a stunned silence, there was almost no reaction. Almost like they’d kind of expected it.
“I take it this information is on like code red level lockdown.” Benny was always thinking practicalities.
Scott nodded once, Carter’s hand still on his shoulder. “Pretty much. He really wants to meet you properly as himself, if you’re all ok hanging around for a bit.”
Kip walked in on the fourth rematch of try-not-to-die-in-Silent-Hill. He was still stubbornly covering his chin because of the one massive zit that was refusing to leave.
“Carter! Huff! Benny!” His voice cracked slightly on Benny’s name and Scott could see him going a little pink in frustration. None of the guys noticed.
“Shit man, you look good.” Kip clapped Huff’s hand. “I feel amazing. Apart from these bitches all over my face and the fact that I’m sweating all the goddamn time. Makes sitting in the library or my studio a nightmare.”
He flopped next to Scott and kissed him, yellow paint speckling his hair. Carter was staring at them in amazement. Kip chucked, slightly self deprecating. “Bro, what? Is it the paint? I’m gonna wash it out later.”
“I always felt like you were the hockey couple. So ridiculously in love. But I don’t know man, this just feels like you guys the way you were always meant to be.”
Kip leaned further into Scott to hide the fact that he was happy crying.
The other guys wouldn’t be so understanding. As much as Scott hated to think about it, he knew a bunch of the guys were at least passively homophobic and transphobic. A few of the wags shared terfy posts on their Instagrams. So Kip the man stayed hidden from the world of hockey. He just stayed in the library or in his art studio whenever he was on campus, and when he was out by himself he’d used the surname Grady. Not Hunter.
Scott only poked his head out of his cave for official hockey business. The divorce rumours started to be treated less like rumours and more like a fact. He ignored all poking questions from his coach, his agent, his sponsors. They could make all the assumptions they wanted. Scott’s love life was going better than ever.
“I’m getting my top surgery consult in two months time. We settled the date this morning”
May 2016. The Admirals had been knocked out in the second round of the playoffs. Kip had a six pack. He was almost as broad as Scott and could now easily pin him. The secret wasn’t exactly hindering their relationship as much as Scott had assumed it would but it definitely wasn’t fucking helping it.
Kip hated feeling like he was a secret. Scott hated being treated like he was divorced.
Two more seasons. If it didn’t feel like things were in a place where he could come out, Scott was retiring. Any protests from Kip fell on deaf ears. Staying in hockey wasn’t fucking worth it.
“How do you need me to help?”
They flew to LA for the surgeon Kip wanted. A hotel room with two beds just in case. The last thing either of them needed was the rumour that Scott was having an affair.
Kip recovered well. Most of the time he was just yelling for pineapple juice and complaining that he couldn’t lift his arms. Scott changed his drains and stopped him from attempting to escape from the hotel on the anaesthesia dose he was on, which he tried to do several times.
“I don’t want to be a soldier anymore.”
Kip was watching another one of his World War Two dramas in the bedroom, head buried into the pillow he’d put on the floor. He’d had his drains taken out and was now refusing to wear a shirt at all at home in the heat of early September, staring in disbelief at his chest. His head popped up in confusion.
“Huh?”
“Your whole athlete colosseum speech. I care about us more than I care about hockey. I’m done.”
Kip’s back went rigid. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I’ve put a two season cap on myself. By then, I’m either publicly coming out or I’m retiring.”
Kip sat in shock for a minute but later on in the afternoon, he climbed onto Scott’s lap and started sucking on his neck. Scott took that as a blessing.
November sped things up significantly.
Kip got jumped about three feet outside the Kingfisher. Homophobic opportunist assholes. He was scrappy enough to not experience anything life threatening but he had a broken arm and nose.
Elena and George took care of him. Scott was stuck in fucking Toronto because the narrative had shifted from Scott has his wife to Scott has nobody. And he wouldn’t have been able to go to the hospital anyway, even though he was literally legally Kip’s spouse.
There was a moody air around Kip but that was mainly because he couldn’t paint for six weeks. He made Scott watch Love Island with him instead and Scott limited himself to one more season instead of two.
Winning the Stanley Cup just ended up being the perfect excuse. Not that Scott wasn’t elated but he was a little more concerned at Kip, who was still in the stands, gripping Elena’s hand very tight.
“Get down here you idiot!”
Kip flashed him a middle finger, which scandalised his entire row, bar Elena and George and made his way down to the ice.
“I love you. Now shut the fuck up.”
“Rude. You shut the fuck up.”
Scott kissed him.
“So you dumped Kip to be with a man?”
Scott didn’t see who’d said it, couldn’t even distinguish the voice. He was tunnel visioning hard.
“I’m right here guys. No dumping occurred.”
Scott watched the penny drop on what felt like every face in the stadium at the same time.
“Kip? Oh my god you look like a different person.”
“Well, I realised that I’m a man, so that was pretty much what I was going for. I still go by Kip, it’s just short for a different name now.”
Scott looped his arms around Kip’s shoulders, both to support Kip and support himself. He proceeded to get shitfaced and ignored any comments made his way about “the gay thing” or “the Kip thing”. And turned off message notifications for a week.
They finally got home three days later and Kip was making celebratory Sex on the Beaches, Scott suspected more for their relationship than the cup.
“WAG groupchat being ok? Not being weird about it?”
“Most of them seem surprised that I’m still alive. Few weird questions, few ignorant questions. Gloria’s been really nice but Gloria is literally the best so I’m not surprised. Oh my god Ilya Rozanov just dmed me.”
Scott made a mental note to tell Rozanov to leave Kip the fuck alone next MLH Awards but he beamed at Kip’s outstretched hand and accepted the cocktail.
“Pretty much the same here. Responses have been across the spectrum. Carter keeps sending me pride flags and a couple of the guys have told me they can’t respect me in the same way. I got an email from Shane Hollander. Fuck knows what he wants.” Kip grimaced then raised his eyebrows at the Shane Hollander email and made a noise Scott was pretty sure was a poorly masked snort.
“Well, secrets out. I’m happy to just be us now.”
Scott raised his cocktail. “I’ll drink to that.”