Chapter 47: Modo III--You're So Purty

A/N: Jad this one is aaaaaaall for you as per your vision of it!

Chapter 47: Modo III

"Heads up, Mikey! Heads up!"

Modano glanced up in just enough time to see the planet-sized roundness of Rob Blake’s ass. Within the second, it felt as if he were being torn in half at the gut. Gaping helplessly, he crumpled to the ice, gasping for any air that could be had at this altitude.

"Oooooh," Mike exhaled as he rolled onto his side, shaking his head and using his stick to prop himself up. What the hell was with these Avs defensemen anyway? They were out to kill him he knew that now! As he stumbled over to the bench, he squinted into the Denver crowd, which was still roaring their appreciation of the hit. Assholes every last one of them. He really wanted to shut them up. There was no way he was going to go the rest of three periods listening to the shit from the audience.

He got the opportunity he wanted on his next shift. The Avs were on a powerplay and Mike noticed a rather distant look on Drury’s face as the puck went to him. Not even bothering to pause, Modo burst forward and stripped the puck off Drury darting on the breakaway. This was were he felt awesome! He glanced briefly at the goalie, and snapped a shot that clanged off the top post and dropped nicely into the net. There were moans of disbelief from the crowd and a healthy round of boos.

There! Mike thought, a good shortie oughta shut em up for now.

He plopped back onto the bench, grinning and accepting the congrats and pats from his teammates. It was sweeter still watching the Avs powerplay go empty handed, hearing howls of "shoot the puck" from the audience and finally their unified moans of disgust. He leaned forward on the bench, waiting for his next shift. Maybe he could get another pocket of open ice, throw some salt in the wound.

When Modo jumped back onto the ice, feeling it scrape underneath his skates, Peter Forsberg clipped him discreetly with his stick. Modano looked up at Peter’s toothy grin. "Don’t get used to that, honey," Peter said. "It ain’t gonna get any easier."

Modano turned his nose away, refusing to give that titian haired brute any of his time. He skated into the offensive zone where his linemates were already scrumming the puck against the boards. It popped out and Mike eagerly snapped it up, turning for a shot when he was smoked to the ice again.

"Scuse me sweetheart!" Adam Foote laughed as he shot the puck to a teammate. "Just business you realize."

Mike shook his head, angry as all hell and he darted forward after the puck-carrier Chris Drury. He stripped that punk once from him, he could do it again. He leaned his body against Chris and the kid, ready for him this time, snapped the puck over to Forsberg who shot it into the zone and roofed one into the Dallas net, sending the water bottle flying.

The horn sounded, the red light flared and the crowd erupted in pleasure this time instead of disgust. Modano groaned and leaned his forehead on his stick. That was the last thing that they wanted.

He kept his eye on Peter as the Swede was being swallowed in a tight little hug with Drury. Those basterds! Modo thought, noticing those calligraphic A’s on their jerseys. They didn’t deserve to be so recognized by beautiful Joe. They didn’t deserve his high regard. Look at them all smug and glowing. No doubt Joe was somewhere, up there in the stands looking on with pride. But he didn’t understand!

There was a gasp in Mike’s heart as he skated back to the bench. How angry Joe must have been when he scored that short-handed goal? Not only had Mike scored a goal, on a breakaway after stripping a guy Joe felt worthy enough of an A, it was a shortie. He had humiliated Joe’s team! Did that mean Joe hated him now? Was he mad at him? Noooo, Mike thought, Joe had to understand, and he was only doing his job. Did he understand?

Mike looked up desperately into the audience, half expecting to see Joe’s face at that moment. Glaring at him, accusing him. If only he could find some way of telling Joe how he felt, telling him that this was only a game.

"Hey, Modo!" a voice snapped in his ear.

Modano looked quickly at Richard Matvichuck. "Yeah?" he asked.

"What’s up? It ain’t that bad," Matvichuck said. "It’s only tied at one, we can still win this. You look like you’re gonna die crying!"

Modano sniffled and wiped the back of his hand against his nose. "I’m not gonna cry!" he squeaked.

Matvichuck rolled his eyes. "OK," he said.

Modano shook his head quickly, trying to calm down. If only he could have some sign that Joe still loved him! Any sign would do.

The abuse started all over again as soon as he stepped on the ice. It didn’t matter what line he was matched up against, everyone was out to get him. It was like the team didn’t give a shit how many penalties they took anymore, just as long as they were able to get in a swat on his hands, a slash on his calves and ankles, a hook on his waist, a stick on the mouth.

"Keaner! Keaner!" Modano gasped to his old teammate Mike Keane during a TV timeout.

Keaner looked at him, his mouth hanging open a bit in that perpetual dumbass expression of his. "Yah," Keaner said.

"What is with you guys?" Modo asked. "Why’re ya trying to kill me?"

A devilish grin crossed Keaner’s face. "Dunno," Keaner said. "Maybe cause you’re so purty."

The puck was dropped and the whistle was blown. The game was whittling down to a shitload of attacks by the Avs on Modo, and a shitload of retaliations by the Stars. Penalty after penalty, it was getting ridiculous.

It was also a showdown between Peter Forsberg and Mike. It seemed like each time Mike was able to score, Peter would retaliate seconds later. By the third period the game was knotted with double hattricks. Needless to say Modano was pissed. He had only twenty seconds to enjoy his hattrick that quieted the crowd and then Forsberg potted his own sending more orgasms through the crowd.

Stupid Swede! Modano thought. Who the hell is he showing off to?

Modano stewed about it the whole time the hats were being cleared off the ice. It took another five minutes but Hatcher was able to shoot in a goal from the point pulling the Stars ahead again. Modano got a chill. Was Joe angry again? Please don’t be angry Joe!

Modano was skating back to the bench when he glanced up at the jumbo-tron at the sound of extremely loud cheers from the audience. Mike’s heart stopped. It was Joe on the jumbo-tron. Joe was in the audience.... And he was smiling, and nodding for the crowd and above all...Above all...he was holding Sneezy Bear!!! He was squeezing Sneezy Bear and laughing. He loved the gift!! Aaaaaah! He was carrying around his gift!

Mike sighed and wasn’t looking were he was going, he gasped and closed his eyes as he hit into someone’s back and fell forward. By the time he opened his eyes he realized he was on Alex Tanguay’s back and the kid was screaming.

"Aaaaaah!" Tanguay wailed. "Guys! Guys! He’s on my butt! On my buuuuuuutt!"

"Jeezers!" Mike said as he was ripped off the pup’s back by Adam Foote who was gripping the back of his jersey. "What’s the big deal!"

That started the scrum from hell as all the players on the ice slammed into each other and there was a whole lot of snarls and jersey pulling. Modano quickly scuttled back to the bench, calmly watching the chaos calm down.

Oh what bliss he was filled with. They were ahead in the game, and Joe wasn’t holding it against him! After all, Joe was cherishing Sneezy Bear! He liked cute and fuzzy and he was responsible for that. Oh how sweet life was!

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