Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Kip Grady/Scott Hunter, Scott Hunter & Carter Vaughn, Eric Bennett & Scott Hunter

Characters:

Kip Grady, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Eric Bennett, Carter Vaughn

Additional Tags:

Post-Break Up, Friendship, Friends With Benefits, Coming Out, Scott Hunter Loves Kip Grady, Kip Grady loves Scott Hunter, Scott Hunter Needs a Hug (Game Changers), POV Scott Hunter (Game Changers)

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of who are we to fight the alchemy?

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-02 Words: 1,939 Chapters: 1/1

an inch away from more than just friends

Summary

“That girl from the gala?” Carter asks, and Scott can watch the gears in his head turning in real-time.

“No, uhm. Her friend, actually.” And wow, this is coming out entirely wrong, and Eric is giving him a very dubious look.

“His name is Kip,” Scott says, his voice breaking on the last word. He’s in freefall. He’s jumping out of a plane with no parachute. The ground is fast approaching.

-
Kip and Scott try their best at being friends but it's maybe a tiny bit difficult when you're still super in love with each other. Scott finally lets his friends be there for him.

Set before blueberry season.

Notes

Travelling back in time in this series to add another part and make Scott suffer some more? Don’t mind if I do. (Also, the awkward friendship stage is just so much fun!)

Scott Hunter comes to the shocking realization that he has no friends outside of hockey when he…makes a friend outside of hockey in the messiest way possible.

But what would he know – maybe it’s completely normal to ambiguously break up with someone you’re deeply and desperately in love with due to life’s tragic circumstances and then keep calling and texting them every day and think of them in every waking moment (and sometimes in his dreams) but you are Just Friends now.

He doesn’t know. He’s never had a relationship. And, as he’s just found out, never really had a friend in his adult life that he didn’t technically meet at work.

So he trusts that Kip has more of an idea what the hell they even think they’re doing and follows his lead.

Which brings him to this moment. Kip has suggested something completely nice and friendly and normal – coming over to watch an episode of True Detective because he knows Scott likes his murder stories and they both haven’t seen it yet.

It’s the first time they’re actually seeing each other in person since…since.

Scott has rearranged the snack selection on the coffee table four times. Wine looks too presumptuous, too much like a date. Popcorn is too serious, it’s not a cinematic event (or maybe it is, the show is meant to be really good). Are the lights too dim? Too bright? Is it too hot in the apartment?

Is having non-hockey friends supposed to be this nerve-wracking?

When Kip gets there, he only looks marginally more put-together than Scott feels and they stare at each other in the hallway for a few seconds before Scott decides to throw caution in the wind and wraps Kip up in a hug. Which is fine, because friends do that to say hello. Not specifically Scott and his friends, but – people. He’s seen it.

“Hi,” Kip whispers and somehow that one word is so sexy and endearing that Scott already wants to die.

They cling to each other for a lot longer than is probably socially appropriate, but that’s okay because at least Scott hasn’t given in to the urge to kiss Kip all over his perfect, adorable face and that’s – that’s something.

He has no idea what they talk about. He has no idea how the show is. Whatever snacks he ended up choosing, it doesn’t matter. Because Kip is here in his apartment again and, despite sitting a polite and reasonable hand’s width apart from him on the couch, technically close enough to touch.

Scott is hyperaware of every little shift Kip makes. He leans forward to pick up his glass. Sits back. Maybe a little bit closer than before? He looks so beautiful, the blue glow from the flat screen flickering over his face. Scott can’t keep looking at him, he can’t, or he’ll kiss him.

Kip turns to him to comment on something that’s happening on the show and Scott resolutely stares at the space over Kip’s right shoulder.

Kip shifts positions again and draws his leg up, his knee pressing against the side of Scott’s thigh for a fleeting moment. Scott can’t breathe.

He sinks back into the couch, allowing himself a slouch. Kip has his elbow up on the backrest between them now and there’s – there’s a space at his side that Scott could lean into. If that was allowed. But maybe – maybe it is? What’s so different about this than a hug at the door?

He shifts his weight, angles his body towards Kip a little more. Their knees press together. Kip’s arm drops down the back of the couch, making more space. Scott scoots closer and his heart is pounding in his chest.

Do people typically feel like this even when they’re over 30? It all seems very middle school, but again. What does Scott know?

With a heavy exhale, he leans into Kip’s side. Kip makes a little sound in his throat, and his arm comes up to wrap around Scott’s shoulders. It’s okay. They’re okay. Scott hasn’t done anything wrong.

He matches his inhales and exhales to Kip’s. They’re both breathing way too fast.

Scott puts one hand on Kip’s leg and Kip tips his head to the side, pressed against Scott’s.

They stare at the screen. Nobody says a word.

Kip’s fingertips start drawing little patterns on the sleeve of Scott’s t-shirt, slowly inching lower. Scott’s fingers flex against the fabric of Kip’s jeans and he can’t keep doing this, he can’t –

They turn to look at each other at the same time, foreheads pressing together.

“I –” Scott starts, but the sound dies in his throat.

“Yeah,” Kip replies anyway and he sounds rough, the same way Scott feels. “Yeah.”

Scott doesn’t even know who makes the first move but a moment later they’re kissing, Kip is in his lap; they’re pulling each other’s clothes off, Kip is on top of him; there’s warm skin everywhere and they’re both so frantic, so desperate for each other. Scott feels like he’s on every drug he’s never taken all at once.

---

The next morning certainly comes with a hangover.

They fell asleep in Scott’s bed together, woke up tangled up in each other and then had to return to the harsh daylight of reality.

Nothing has changed.

Kip looks pale and tired and, despite having the best sleep in weeks, Scott can feel it in his bones.

He makes omelets and sandwiches while Kip is in the shower and puts some aside in a little Tupperware container for Kip to take to work with him. If he wants.

They eat mostly in silence, but still pressed close together, playing a half-hearted game of footsie under the kitchen island.

Hugging goodbye lasts for several minutes and Kip keeps whispering to Scott, “we’re okay, we’re okay”.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can,” Scott says.

He knows he’ll need to lock all this away in an hour or two, get packed and ready, win their next game. Leave Kip behind in more ways than one, knowing he won’t be there waiting when Scott returns.

---

The first time they have a chance to actually talk again isn’t until the next morning. Scott is in Montreal (Ottawa after that, Boston after that) and trying not to think about the very mediocre game they played last night. They won, but barely.

Now, he’s standing outside on the hotel’s empty roof terrace in the cold with a cup of lukewarm coffee in one hand and his phone pressed to his ear with the other. Like he could magically make Kip appear by his side if he just focuses on his voice in his ear hard enough.

“So, uhm. We should probably talk about –”

“Yeah.” Scott watches his breath form little white clouds in the air. “Uh.”

Kip sighs and is, once again, infinitely braver than Scott. “Look, I don’t want you to think I have any regrets, because I don’t. But all of yesterday also felt like someone was trying to scrape out my heart with a spoon, so…maybe we just – you know.”

Please, God, don’t leave me completely, Scott thinks. He wants to say something, but his throat feels too tight.

“Maybe just stick to the phone calls and stuff for a bit? I really don’t wanna mess this up.”

“Yeah,” Scott says too quickly. “Yeah, we can do that.”

The knot in his stomach uncurls itself all at once. He didn’t fuck it all up already? He gets to keep Kip in his life?

But also. He’s the one that made him feel like that. He knows exactly what Kip means, because he’s been walking around trapped in it for the past 24 hours, too. It’s agony. It’s fine, but it’s agony.

But Kip shouldn’t be feeling like that. He’s only in this position because Scott is too weak to keep him and also too weak to let him go. If only –

“Stop thinking so hard,” Kip says softly and Scott loves him, loves him so bad –

“I don’t really - know how to do any of this,” he can hear himself saying, as if from a great distance. “Just tell me…just tell me?”

Kip laughs and it sounds so wistful and sad that it makes Scott’s heart seize.

“Well, for now I’m telling you to go have some breakfast and text me after the game, how’s that?”

“I will.”

“Okay. Good luck later.”

Scott stares at his phone for a full minute after hanging up. At Kip’s contact, plain as anything. No photo, no last name. So much less than he deserves.

“Hey man, what are you doing out there?”

Scott turns around to see Carter and Eric standing in the doorway to the terrace.

“It’s freezing.”

That doesn’t seem to deter them from walking over to Scott and he quickly slips his phone into his pocket and takes a deep breath, the cold burning his airways.

“You look like shit, dude. The game wasn’t that bad.”

Scott hums his agreement and stares at his coffee. His friends are here. He’s out here all alone and they came to see him and check on him and maybe that means something? Or he could just be grasping at straws but maybe –

“I – uh.”

“What’s up?” Eric asks, clapping him on the back.

“There was. Back in New York, I –”

It’s like he’s pulling his own teeth out with a rusty wrench and Scott feels himself grow hot and sweaty in his winter coat.

“I was seeing someone,” he finally says and it feels like stepping off a cliff.

Carter makes a surprised sound – and of course he would be surprised, Scott never does this, never talks about it.

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah, it – it’s complicated. It’s kind of a mess.”

“That girl from the gala?” Carter asks, and Scott can watch the gears in his head turning in real-time.

“No, uhm. Her friend, actually.” And wow, this is coming out entirely wrong, and Eric is giving him a very dubious look.

“His name is Kip,” Scott says, his voice breaking on the last word. He’s in freefall. He’s jumping out of a plane with no parachute. The ground is fast approaching. His ears are ringing.

“Oh, Scotty. Oh, man.” And that’s Carter – throwing his arms around Scott in a somewhat awkward side hug, Eric rubbing his hand up and down his back, his friends are here and real and solid and they’re a parachute; maybe he’s not gonna hit the ground face-first?

“Thanks for telling us,” Eric says quietly and Carter nods into Scott’s shoulder.

Scott chokes out a relieved breath, and he’s shaking, dizzy with adrenaline.

“So what’d you do, huh? Is it something flowers can fix? Cause I know the best flower dude – wait, do you guys do that? Send flowers?”

Carter is rambling and Scott laughs, helpless, completely out of his depth. “I don’t know – I. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know. He gave me socks once?”

“You can’t just send someone a pair of socks after a fight,” Eric says, which sounds like very reasonable advice, even if they didn't technically fight. 

“But you gotta fix it though, man. Do you wanna fix it?”

“Yeah, I do. I really do.”

Scott lets the guys drag him inside before he “actually freezes to death, my God Hunter, can you maybe suffer somewhere more comfortable” and feels – light. He can’t wait to tell Kip about this.

“Wait a minute,” Carter says when they get onto the elevator. “I totally know which pair of socks you mean.”