Work Text:
There have been a few times in his life where George Grady would have considered Scott Hunter to be public enemy number one.
Most of the time this happened, it was inconsequential. George didn’t believe in sports betting - if he wanted to burn his money, he had a perfectly good lighter and could ignite the dollars himself - but every so often he and his coworkers would make small wagers on a game. So when he found himself working an extra shift, buying a round of beer, or any other favor he earned through a losing bet, he would jokingly curse Hunter’s name.
The most notable consideration of Scott Hunter as the enemy was, of course, for breaking his son’s heart. No matter how subtle Kip may have thought he was being, George was his father. He could read the book Kip didn’t think he was writing on his face. He knew why Kip was suddenly watching hockey like he had a personal stake in the result of the game - and what it meant when seeing anything about the Admirals made him flinch like he’d been burned.
Even in that last instance, George wasn’t a vindictive man. No matter how wronged he might have felt personally - or the degree to which that feeling was justified- he never wanted to see the guy suffer.
He had even less reason to want to see Scott suffer these days.
Scott had told him when telling the story of how he and Kip met that when he saw Kip for the first time, he knew that meeting would change his life. George felt similarly about the first time he met Scott. The moment Scott walked through his door, George knew he was family. If the way Scott looked at Kip like he was a miracle hadn’t sealed the deal, the way Kip looked back at Scott like he was a gift certainly did. They looked happy. They looked at peace with one another. They looked like everything George could have wished for Kip.
In the ensuing years, Scott had solidified his place in the Grady bunch. It wasn’t always possible with his schedule, but when it was Scott could be found at family dinners, game nights, and generally adding his presence to the tapestry of love that made up the Grady home. Even if no one outside their home would ever know he had been there.
Then everyone had known. Any lingering doubt George may have had that Scott might disappear and leave Kip as a devastated shred of himself again was wiped away in an instant as Scott risked everything to show the world how much he loved Kip. George didn’t think his heart could be more full than it was watching Scott call Kip down from the stands. His son was being loved loudly, in the way he deserved - and his favorite team had won a Stanley Cup, which wasn’t too bad either.
Cheesy as it may have sounded, George had pinched himself to check if he was dreaming a few months later when Kip asked him for his grandfather’s ring to propose to Scott. He pinched himself again the next day when Scott stopped by to ask for his blessing to do the same to Kip.
It wouldn’t be official until the wedding next summer, but George already considered Scott his son in every way that mattered. So when the email from the Admirals’ events department came through, his answer was a no brainer.
_____
Scott was distracted from the movie by the email notification. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Saying that Scott was at all watching the movie Kip put on in the first place would be a stretch. He couldn’t even say what movie it was. He was more focused on the warm weight of Kip’s head on his lap, the dim glow of the lamplight, and the utter calm he felt in the moment than he was on the plot of the film.
Not that Kip could call him out for not paying attention. Ever since Scott’s hand had crept into his hair and begun scratching gentle circles on his scalp, Kip appeared to be watching his eyelids, not the screen.
The email coming through may not have distracted Scott from the movie, but it did leave him distracted.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Dad’s Night Promo
Hi, everyone!
As a reminder, the Admirals’ annual Dad’s Night promo is coming up in a few weeks. Please send me the name and contact information for your father or whoever will be standing with you on ice for the pre-game ceremony so I can contact them and arrange details.
Thank you,
Stacey Atkins
Admirals Events Team
It was that time of year again, wasn’t it?
The Admirals hosted all sorts of theme nights to encourage people of all interests to come to games. Most of the time, Scott and the rest of the team didn’t have to do much for them. Sometimes they had to shoot some promotional content for the marketing team - wearing Hawaiian shirts over their jerseys for Tropical Night or skating alongside someone dressed in a Spiderman costume for Superhero Night, for example - but other than that, their only job was to show up and win the game.
Dad’s Night was more involved. Most of the attention was on the players’ fathers or whoever they may have standing in for one. The group of dads wore their sons’ jerseys, had a pre-game social, and watched the game from a premium suite where the cameras could easily find them and broadcast their reactions to the jumbotron whenever the player they were related to did something impressive. And, of course, there was the pre-game ceremony where players stood in a line and were “introduced” by their fathers coming out to join them on the ice.
In his first few years with the Admirals, Scott was able to beg out of taking part in the event. That didn’t fly anymore. One of the downsides of becoming a recognized figure on the ice was that people would recognize if he wasn’t there.
Scott knows he doesn’t have the monopoly on daddy issues in the league. He isn’t the only one who lost his father. Some of the international players can’t bring theirs over just for Dad’s Night. And some guys just plain didn’t get along with their dads. Still, every year this event was a shot of lemon juice into the never healing paper cut of Scott’s orphan trauma.
He considers how to play it this year. For a few years straight he had brought one of the coaches from St. Thomas who had been a father figure for him as a teenager. Once he and Carter had gotten close, his dad had stood on the ice with a hand on each of their shoulders - of course, his Vaughn jersey clearly marked which one of them he was really there for. Last year, Scott had managed to get out of the on ice part of the tradition by standing in as the “dad” of a rookie whose family couldn’t make it. He figured it was better to grit his teeth through the “old man” jokes than to face the reality of having no one standing there with him.
“You okay?” Kip asks, looking up at him, adorably sleep rumpled (although Scott knows he’d deny to the ends of the earth that he ever drifted off).
Scott loves the fact that despite being with Kip for years, he’s still learning new things about him. He wonders if today is the day he learns that his fiancé is a certified mind reader.
“I’m fine, why?”
“You’re thinking pretty loud,” Kip says with a soft smile. It’s far from the first time he’s made that remark. “Is Dad’s Night coming up getting to you?”
No more wondering. His fiancé is definitely a mind reader.
Scott didn’t say anything, but his face must have because Kip continued.
“I saw it on the events schedule for next month and I think I remember them contacting you about it around this time last year.”
Being detail oriented and paying close attention to dates came with the territory of being an art historian, but this seemed incredibly observant even for Kip. It wouldn’t be the first time Kip managed to surprise him - or the last, Scott imagined.
“Actually, yeah. I just got the email about it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Some people asked that question as a formality and a precursor to pushing him to talk about things. When Kip asked, he genuinely meant it. It was one of the many things Scott appreciated about him.
He knows that Kip would never judge him for having the feelings he does about this. He also knows that there’s a correlation between how much he wants to shove his feelings down to not burden Kip with them and how much he probably should talk about them. Stewing on it was easier, though, especially since Kip would respect him asking to let the topic lie.
“Not right now.”
“Okay,” Kip said, turning to face the tv again. Allegedly to go back to watching the movie, but once Scott stated running his fingers through his hair again - he realized that when he got engrossed reading the email, his hand had stilled, which was probably what woke Kip up - Kip’s eyes fluttered closed.
Scott took a moment to bask in the sheer adorableness of a sleepy Kip, then opened his phone to reply to Stacey.
_____
George would have loved whoever Kip fell in love with. It could have been a doctor, an accountant, even another starving artist type. As long as the man treated Kip with the love and respect he deserved, George would approve. He couldn’t deny that his son being engaged to a professional hockey player didn’t have its perks.
When he first saw the signs that Kip was falling in love - daydreamy gazes into the distance, attempting to play off his obsessive texting nonchalantly, and an exorbitant number of nights “staying with Elena” even for being as attached at the hip as those two are - George let himself imagine bits and pieces of the future. He thought of meeting the mystery man’s family and of shared dinners, two families crowded among a table packed with food and love. He just hadn’t pictured the table as a catered buffet in an Admirals box suite, nor the family as the fathers of other players gathered for a pregame meal.
While it was undoubtedly an incredible experience, George couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. He was far from the social butterfly that Kip’s mother was. When Kip was younger, she could walk into a PTA meeting not knowing a soul and walk out with phone numbers and plans for coffee with everyone in the room. George could maybe get a name or two by the fourth meeting.
A lot of the men here seemed friendly with one another, whether from years of seeing each other at this event or the inevitability of parents to befriend the parents of their children’s teammates. It seemed that tendency persisted long past the high school sports circuit. George was sure he wasn’t the only non-biological parent here, but that wasn’t why he was worried to reach out. While the reaction to Scott and Kip coming out had been largely positive, and Scott had said his teammates were very supportive, it didn’t necessarily mean their parents were.
Between that nervousness and his introversion, George was currently hitting his signature move from the days of after-school parent events: sitting at an empty table hoping someone who could kickstart a conversation would need a seat.
The trick had worked at Kip’s art showcases throughout high school and it seemed it was working again tonight; two men approached his table and took a seat. They had come from in front of him, so George couldn’t see the names on the backs of their jerseys to figure out who they were.
“I haven’t seen you at one of these before,” said one of the men. He was tall with dark skin and lines around his eyes that came from a life filled with smiles and laughter. He extended a hand across the table. “I’m Richard Vaughn.”
“I’m George Grady,” he replied, shaking Richard’s hand.
“Mark Daniels,” the other man said, putting his hand forward. Mark was on the shorter side and pale, even for the winter.
George shook his hand as well. “Nice to meet you both.”
Based on the last name, he figured Richard was Carter Vaughn’s father. George knew Scott was close with Carter, and if his presence here wasn’t intended as a surprise, he would have assumed Scott asked Carter’s father to seek him out. As it was, he figured it was just a coincidence. George didn’t recognize the name Daniels, so either the man’s son was a rookie who wasn’t getting much ice time or Mark was another alternative father figure.
“I’m glad to see you here for Scott,” Richard said. That answered the question of if these men knew who George was and why he was here. “Ever since Carter got traded to New York, Scott’s been like family to us. I’ve been happy to stand with him on the ice for Dad’s Nights before, but it’s nice that he has you this year.”
“I’m happy to be here.” And George was, no matter how odd it felt to be making small talk with the parents of players he exclusively knew through a screen. “It’s a little surreal, though. I mean, if you’d asked me last year where I’d be right now, attending Dad’s Night at the Admirals as one of the dads wouldn’t have made my top ten guesses.”
“Tell me about it,” said Mark. “This is the last thing I expected when I got back on the dating scene after my divorce. When I met Anna and she told me her son, Eric, was an English major, I thought he’d get a job working in editing, maybe even teaching, not be a professional goalie.”
Mark must be Eric Bennett’s stepfather.
“We all think our kids are exceptionally talented, and I knew Carter was good, but I don’t think I realized quite how good he was until I watched him sign his contract on draft day. So from where I was a decade or so ago, being here is pretty unexpected for me too,” Richard agreed.
While they had all gotten to this moment by different paths, George realized that if nothing else he, Richard, and Mark - and all of the other fathers and father figures here - were connected by pride in their sons, both those by blood and those of the heart.
He raised his beer. “To the joy of the unexpected. And to our boys.”
Richard and Mark tapped their bottles to his.
Richard took a sip of his beer and set it down. “We only get the fanfare and celebration for Dad’s Night, but some of us parents - at least the ones who are local to New York - get together and watch games once or twice a month. You should join us sometime.”
“Sometimes we’ll go in on a box together for a home game, but a lot of the time we just rotate hosting. It’s like a Super Bowl watch party, but with a lot more targeted and personally invested cheering. Usually the same amount of Buffalo chicken dip, though,” Mark added.
“It’s like the WAG-“ Richard paused as if resetting. “Sorry, like the SAP watch parties, but instead of beautiful young people, it’s just us old farts.”
“SAP?” George asked.
“Carter was telling me that the ladies wanted to be more inclusive of your boy, so instead of Wives and Girlfriends, they’re going by Spouses and Partners. Apparently the first time he saw a message in the group text they have on Gloria’s phone, he thought she was picking up a second career in the maple syrup industry,” Richard chuckled. George could see that Carter was probably the source of most of Richard’s laugh lines.
Kip hadn’t mentioned anything about the other players’ partners changing what they called themselves to help him fit in. George knew Kip wouldn’t have made a fuss about being part of the so-called WAGs, but it warmed his heart that the women were making the effort anyways.
By being with a public figure like Scott, George knew his son had opened himself up to more public scrutiny than he ever would have encountered before. But Scott’s team was accepting and the other partners had Kip’s back. What more could George ask for? Him making some friends along the way was the Staten Island Cherry on Top.
What? Scott wasn’t the only one who liked the ridiculously named smoothies from Kip’s old job.
_____
Scott focused on the weight of the helmet on his head, the feel of the jersey on his chest, and the slight compression of the banana socks on his feet. Cataloguing the physical sensations he was experiencing helped keep his mind off the anxiety blooming in his chest. Before a normal game, this checklist was usually enough to get him in the right headspace to play. This wasn’t a normal game, though.
No one else seemed to be having a problem getting their head on right today. For the rest of the team, the excitement of having their fathers not just watching the game, but actively being celebrated during it made for a generally good mood in the locker room. Scott made sure to keep a cheery look on his face to not bring it down. Luckily, he’s hidden enough from his teammates over the years to know how to be convincing.
He appreciates that Coach Murray agreed to stand with him again. Scott appreciates it so much that as he skates into position on the ice, he makes a mental note to add something to his speech for next year’s St. Thomas fundraising gala about how long lasting the family formed through the foundation is. But no mater how much he appreciates it, he can still acknowledge that it sucks a little being the only one on the ice without a father, stepfather, uncle, older brother, some kind of real family joining him.
As he has for every Dad’s Night game since he was drafted to the Admirals, Scott lines up at center ice and thinks about his father. He hopes his dad would be proud of him. At risk of sounding arrogant, he thinks there’s a lot to be proud of. He not only made it to the MLH, but became a team captain and won a Cup. He uses his money and fame to give back to charity. And most importantly, he’s happy.
Scott feels the pressure from his shoulder pads and imagines it as his father clapping him on the shoulders the way he used to before games in his peewee league.
His eyes scan the crowd, landing on Kip in his reserved seats. Scott might not have the family he wants to be here with him right now, but with his teammates beside him and the man he loves in front of him, he has the new family he’s forged.
Over the noise of the crowd, he can hear the announcements as they’re made.
“Introducing Gregory Huff is his father, Gregory Huff senior.”
“Introducing Eric Bennett is his stepfather, Mark Daniels.”
“Introducing Alternate Captain, Carter Vaughn, is his father, Richard Vaughn.”
Scott doesn’t take his eyes off Kip, but in his periphery he can see the dads coming out in a line behind the players. As each is announced, they tap their son on the shoulder and pull them into a hug.
“And here to introduce your New York Admirals captain, Scott Hunter, is-“
Scott feels a hand on his shoulder, the grateful disappointment of getting what you have but not what you want coiling in his stomach.
When he turns around, Coach Murray isn’t there.
“His father in law, George Grady.”
When the social media team post videos from Dad’s Night, Scott will be subjected to countless chirps in the form of screenshots and memes of how dumbfounded he looks in this moment. That will come later. For now, all he knows is so much surprise that it steals any and all words from his lips.
“Hey, son.” George smiles and opens his arms.
Scott feels no shame in how fast he falls into the hug. Kip’s father always made him feel welcome in the Grady family, but hearing him call Scott son while standing on the ice at Dad’s Night is a new level of acceptance and completeness and family that Scott didn’t realize he could experience until this moment.
“Thank you.” Scott’s voice cracks, but that’s okay. He’s safe. He’s with family. “Thank you for being here.”
George laughs fondly. “I’m surprised you didn’t already know I’d be here. I didn’t think Kip could keep a secret from you.”
Scott thinks back to how Kip seemed to magically know about the email for Dad’s Night. Maybe his fiancé wasn’t a mind reader, just someone who was in on the surprise.
“Apparently he managed.”
George pulls back, looking Scott in the eyes. “Whatever you and Kip decide to do with your last names when you get married, you’re a Grady now too.”
“I might be a Grady, but you make that Hunter jersey look good,” he tries to joke. The most he can manage is a watery laugh.
“I’m proud of you, son.” George’s eyes aren’t exactly dry either. “I think it’s time for us dads to head off the ice. Good luck tonight.”
Scott watches George get herded off the ice by a member of the events team, along with all the other dads. He watches his father in law get herded off the ice. He and Kip were getting married next summer, so the title wouldn’t truly be accurate until then. Since George being here was entirely a surprise to him - and he’d have to ask Kip some questions after the game tonight about how that came to be - he hadn’t submitted any information to the events team. That means George had filled in his own title. It felt damned nice that he was as eager to claim that connection to Scott as Scott was to legally tie himself to Kip - and by extension, the rest of the Gradys.
Scott cleared his throat as he made his way to the circle for face-off.
Carter skates into him on the way, gently bumping his shoulder. “You doing okay, man?”
“Yeah,” Scott answers, and for the first time at Dad’s Night, he’s not lying. He’s okay. He’s great. “Let’s fucking win this thing.”
“Let’s show Tampa who’s daddy.” Carter left to get in position laughing at his own joke.
After the game, the official stat line for “Hunter” read two goals and an assist. Scott knew they really belonged to the Grady family. After all, so did he.