Chapter 44: Modo II--Cute and Fuzzy

A/N: OK this one might be a bit freaky but I’ve read some of your stuff and I know it’s freakier!!!!!!!! Pbbbbbbth! Wink, wink. Oh yeah: Disclaimer! Disclaimer! Disclaimer! I know nothing of Mike Modano’s sexuality and the habits of Kirk Muller..........in fact, I really don’t know anything about Kirk Muller except that his name popped up as I was writing........

Chapter: 44 Modo II—Cute and Fuzzy

Mike was in turmoil. Joe had never sent him any sort of acknowledgment for the gift baskets. They had all been signed for, but that’s all Mike knew. Weren’t they proof enough to Joe of the depth of his feelings? How could Joe be so cruel as to ignore him?

It had been agonizing Mike all week. He had paced back and forth in his house. Should he call Joe? Should he write to him? Mike had written dozens of letters to him already. In them he chided Joe for being so cruel, for being so aloof. He rebuked his apathy and implored him to give him some reply, for any reply, be it loving or hateful would be just enough to cool his burning heart.

He would take such a reply from him and cover it in kisses and, hold it in his pocket and be comforted by just the crumple of the letter. Would that be too much to ask? Would that be too much to give?

Mike had written those letters to Joe and after each one, he would tear it up and crumple the pieces in his fingers. He couldn’t bear the thought of another snub from Joe. What if he ignored the letters as he had done the gift baskets? Mike didn’t know if he could handle such a blow.

What had he done wrong?

Mike tried to think. The items he had selected for the baskets were of the highest quality! They were things anyone would love to have as a gift. Perhaps he hadn’t sent Joe what he really wanted. That had to be it. The gift baskets were lacking. Next time he would have to send something even better. Something Joe would really appreciate.

Oh! And it was terrible. Mike had read the news of Joe’s concussion. He had fallen down the stairs on a baby toy. That could have killed him. What a terrible fate for poor, sweet Joe, to be killed by the very family that was saddling him down. He had dropped some discreet tears when he heard the news.

He had been hurt and furious when Joe had not acknowledged his gift baskets, and when he had left the Stars arena without saying goodbye, forcing Mike to chase the Avs team bus, futily trying to get his attention. But all that anger disappeared when he heard that Joe had been hurt. How could he be mad at someone who was gravely injured?

Ah! But now here were second chances. Fate worked in mysterious ways and it was working for him again. It was Friday night, and he was here, trying to gasp for air in the thin Denver air. On Saturday, the Stars would be playing in the Pepsi center. That left him with a whole day tomorrow to try and see Joe, and just....make some contact with him.

Of course with a concussion and a family, Joe probably had a lot on his mind right now. So Mike decided that he wouldn’t express to Joe the full breadth of his emotions. He wouldn’t run the risk of overwhelming Joe just to satisfy his own ego.

Modano sunk back into his bed and frowned. He didn’t need to look over to see that his roommate, Kirk Muller was still screwing high pitched moans from some whore, or puck-bunny, or waitress or whatever she was. It was getting real annoying.

Women were over with for Mike permanently. He was sick of their high voices and moans. And he was sick of their soft, flabby bodies or at the other extreme, their sharp, bony ones. A woman ultimately did not know how to please a man. Only a man knew how to do that.

Mike closed his eyes, remembering with a thrill the first time Brett had run his big, strong hands up Mike’s bare thighs. His hot breath had burned as it got closer and closer to his skin. A woman could never know how to elicit such an emotion from a man. Not even an expensive whore.

The ever-growing frequency of the woman’s cries and Kirk’s low groans interrupted Mike’s thoughts. Why couldn’t they finish already?

"Oh, God yes!" Kirk groaned. "That’s it Michelle!"

The cries from the woman suddenly stopped. "My name is Tina," she said between pants.

"I don’t give a shit," Kirk growled. "Tonight, you’re Michelle."

"I don’t think so," she said. "Get off me you weirdo."

Mike’s eyes snapped open and he sat up when he heard Kirk slap Tina. "Kirk!" he exclaimed. "What the hell!"

Looking at Kirk, his stomach turned. Kirk had Tina pinned to the bed, his hand gripping her wrists together and his other hand covering her mouth. She was trying to scream but she could only squeak through his fingers. Large tears were rolling from her eyes, which had become wide with fear.

The sparkling, black look in Kirk’s eyes drilled a cold chill through Mike’s chest. A wrinkled, weird smile was twisted on his face. "Come on, Mike," he said. "I saw you getting a boner listening to us. Want a turn? Michelle’s real sweet."

Mike swung his feet to the carpet. The pleading look in Tina’s eyes broke through to his heart. "Kirk, you stupid son of a bitch. Let her go." Mike snapped.

"Come on!" Mike said. "It’s always better when you can smell the fear on ‘em. It’s an acquired taste. Have a try! You were never brought up on a proper hockey team. It’ll be special! I can hold her for you, just like an old captain would do it."

Speechless. For a moment, Mike couldn’t say a thing. He felt that if he said something, he’d only end up vomiting. He thought about getting up and perhaps leaving, forgetting everything he just saw. Could he go on with life? Pleading, weeping, begging, her eyes snared him again.

"Kirk," Modano said through his teeth. "Let her go before I call the friggin cops myself."

They remained in a stalemate, eyes locked. Mike couldn’t remember the last time he had felt adrenaline cut through his blood like this.

"I don’t care how you used to do it in New Jersey, or Montreal or wherever else you came from," Mike said slowly. "But this is not gonna happen in front of me."

Kirk dropped his gaze and shook his head with a sigh. "Fine," he growled. "Listen to me, Missy, don’t go squealing anywhere because no one will believe you anyway. And it’s not like I hurt you really bad anyway."

With an annoyed grunt, he rolled off her. Wiping off tears, she scrambled off the bed and frantically tugged on her clothes. Before she went out the door, she turned around and said to Mike, "Thank you. You were the one I wanted anyway."

Mike shook his head.

"Eh, shut-up you haughty bitch!" Kirk snapped.

Tina looked at him. "Psycho!" she yelled. And she ran out of the room.

"Jesus! Kirk!" Mike yelled.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "A lot of the old guys used to smoke too." he said. "Youngsters don’t know how to live anymore."

Mike leaned in the back of the cab, extremely disturbed the next morning. He didn’t even want to think about Kirk.

He had heart stories about what used to happen on old hockey clubs, especially with those original six teams. Guys busting up their wives to show off, captains pressing "rights" on teammates spouses and girlfriends, stuff like that. It scared him. The thought that men would be deranged enough to commit such acts or to submit to them. It made him think of the old time days in terms of black and white and pale yellows. He didn’t want to think of those old hockey terms as anything else but spook stories in a garish dream world.

So he pushed it aside. He was certain Kirk wouldn’t pull a stunt like that around him again. What the hell was wrong with his brain? Where could he have picked up shit like that? Was it an original six thing? Guy Carbonneau had never talked or acted like that to Mike’s knowledge and neither had some of the other veterans he had known. Brett had never been like that.

Mike sighed as the cab pulled up to the Sakic house. He wouldn’t think of Brett anymore. Brett was as part of the past just as Joe was as inexplicably tied to his future.

He held his breath as he rang the doorbell. He wouldn’t be here long, just enough to say "hi" to him, maybe to glean some hope of his affections.

Mike’s heart trembled when a skinny, blond woman answered the door. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place her.

"Oh!" the woman smiled through a fading bruise on her mouth, "Bonjour Monsieur Modano!"

Debbie Sakic came up behind the woman, leaning her chin on her shoulder and smiling a large, pale smile. "Hello," she said.

"Who is it?" another blond woman called from behind Debbie. She blinked at Mike with huge, gorgeous, fashion model eyes. "Ooooh! My Robbie’s not going to be nice to you tonight sweetheart, don’t come here begging from mercy."

Shit! What am I doing here? Mike thought. The whole chicken coop is here!

"Oh, well, hi," Mike said. "I was just dropping by to say hello. To see how Joe was doing. I mean....."

His voice died as the woman with the bruise broke into a heavy fit of laughter and she trotted into the house. "Mon dieu!" she giggled. "I need a drink!"

"Oh," Debbie said as the other blond, Brandi Blake he assumed, smiled and winked at him from behind. "How sweet of you. I didn’t realize you and Joe were so close."

"Uh, yeah," Modano muttered. "I mean..."

"Well," Debbie said with a perfect, perky smile. "Come on in."

"He’s in the backyard," Debbie said as she led him through the house, "Excuse the mess, but we’re redecorating."

"Oh," Mike said. "Cool."

"I have to warn you, Mike," Debbie said. "He’s had a pretty bad concussion and the meds make him kinda loopy, so he may seem a bit...odd."

Oh poor Joe, Mike’s soul screamed. Why!

An excited twinge boiled in Mike’s stomach as they stepped into the huge, grassy expanse of their backyard. He could see Joe’s back to them as he leaned over his little daughter’s bare tummy, giving her loud raspberries.

"Joe, honey," Debbie said in a voice that made Mike rage inwardly.

Joe turned around, a glorious, glowing smile on his face. Mike’s heart melted.

"Mike’s here to see ya," Debbie said. "I’m going in to help Pauline and to make sure Mimi and Brandy haven’t raided the cheesecake cups."

"Hey, Mike!" Joe exclaimed with a goofy smile. "Whatcha doing, buddy?"

Buddy? Mike thought. Eeeeeep!

"I just wanted to see how you’re doing," Mike said as calmly as his pumping heart would allow. The man was even more gorgeous than he remembered.

Joe leaned back on the grass, letting the twins roll onto his lap.

"I’m OK," Joe said. "That is to say, I’ll live. But I’m rung up real bad...can’t think too well sometimes. I get headaches...but I’m good."

Mike looked at the children and he felt awkward. What was he doing here? He didn’t belong here! This was stupid, Joe didn’t care a thing about him.

"You should know," Joe said. "You’ve had a few yourself, aye Modo?"

Aaaaaah! He called me Modo! And he remembers how I went through concussions too! He cares! Eeeee! Mike thought.

"Yup," Mike said calmly. "So how long ya out?"

"Dunno," Joe said.

"Well," Mike replied. "In your condition now, even the puppies could take ya on. It’ll be a nice vacation for you."

"Awwww," Joe said. "I like puppies. They’re so cute and fuzzy!"

Mike smiled at Joe...and...and...and....Joe smiled back! Aaaaaaah!

And then there was the annoying French voice.....

"Ooooh," the French woman cooed. "Are you here to comfort Joe?"

Mike turned around. "Uh, actually, I was just gonna leave," he said.

"Awww," she pouted. "So sad, you can’t stay a bit longer?"

"Nope," Mike said. "I’ll be late for practice."

"Well, thanks for stopping by," Joe said. "That’s real great of you."

Mike’s heart turned to pudding and it soured as soon as he turned around and the French woman was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a dirty smile. Damn, whose wife was she? He was glad to leave her behind!

Cute and fuzzy? Mike thought as he relaxed in the backseat of the cab. That’s what Joe likes? Then what was wrong with the Sneezy Bear?

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