Rating: For this part, PG-13. Overall for the fic, NC-17
Original Date of Completion: December 2002
Disclaimer: I own them all, and you can't have them. Really, this is 100% fake and conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. That means it's fiction, so you can't sue me.
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Thirty. Dear God why me? Before, I could always crack on the old guys on the team. My long standing joke was that on the first day God made Cheli, Hully on the second, Luc on the third and so on. Yes, Stevie is missing from that; you just don't cut on the captain. And as for Igor, he's a tad bit sensitive. But anyone else over 30 was part of it. Now, I was over thirty. How the hell did this happen? One day you're 24 and winning the Stanley Cup, celebrating with a bunch of strangers and going home with some anonymous guy. The next day you're thirty and in a committed relationship, waking up next to your best friend/linemate roughly six months after winning your third Stanley Cup. Okay, so that's not all really that bad. Especially when you get to wake up like this.
I've been up for about 10 minutes now, and for that entire time I've just been sitting here watching him. He looks so calm, so peaceful, so beautiful. The way he’s curled up in a ball, it's almost a surprise he's not sucking his thumb. It's probably a good thing he isn’t, I may melt from the adorableness of it all if he were. He just looks so...precious, so childlike. I've watched him sleep a lot, but the more I did it the more I enjoyed it. It just gave me a nice feeling to see him so at peace, to know nothing was bothering him if only for that little while. I'd imagine it's the same feeling a parent gets watching a sleeping child. Or I could just be a total whack job, whatever. All I know is he's beautiful when he's asleep. And maybe even more so when he's awake. Though I don't know if that's really possible.
I turn slowly onto my side, moving as lightly as possible as not to wake him up. The bed moves slightly and he murmurs in his sleep but he doesn't wake up. I smile as I inch closer, resting my head gently on his chest. His arm slips around me but he still shows no sign of life. Not that I'm complaining. With a happy sigh I slip my arm around his back and close my eyes. But before the lids are even closed, I hear a quiet meow and feel a cat jumping on my leg. I sigh as he meows again, pushing himself in between me and Kris.
"He's your kid," Kris murmured as he hugged me to him, squeezing K-Mac in between us.
"You found him," I mumbled into his chest, being interrupted by muffled meows.
"So, it's your fault we were in that park at all,"
"Oh hell no," I yelled jokingly, pushing him roughly away from me. K-Mac meowed again and jumped onto Kris' chest. I couldn't help but giggle with that sight, even though I was trying to be mad at Kris for what he'd said. I glared at him, which he answered with that annoyingly adorable smirk. "You can't blame that on me," I grumbled, continuing my glare.
"Oh but I can," He teased, grabbing a handful of my t-shirt and pulling me down to him. "You fell in love with me first,"
"Asshole," I growled, pressing my forehead against his.
"Home wrecker," He snickered as our lips met.
I hate him. He is such a smug, cocky, arrogant, beautiful, incredible, irresistible bastard. And a really good kisser, even with morning breath. But I still hate him. I've come to despise the phrase home wrecker over the past few months; since he and Julie feel that they're comfortable enough to joke about everything now. And of course their jokes come at my expense. I was the home wrecker after all, at least if you ask them. I don't think it's entirely fair to call me that. I didn't make Kris gay, that was his own doing. Though I am the reason he realized it.....Dammit, maybe I am a home wrecker. No, no I'm most definitely not.
"I'm not a home wrecker," I protested, drilling Kris in the chest with my fist. "There was no wrecking of any homes,"
"Then why am I laying half naked in your bed on a Sunday morning, instead of waking up next to my wife, then going to church with her and our two children in our happy little mini-van?"
I stared down at him and rolled my eyes at the serious look on his face. It's my birthday, he should be taking a day off from the pick on Kirk activities. What am I saying? He hasn't taken a day off from that in the last 7 years. If anything those activities increase on my birthday. I might be kind of glad to be away from him in a few hours, even if it would be braving the icy roads in the middle of the half-blizzard outside and fighting my way to make it to Cambridge sometime before the end of the day. This was the first year in a long time that I had my birthday off, and I wanted to spend it with my family. Shawn was home for Christmas, my other brother Donny and his wife Trisha are expecting a baby any day, and my sister Tracy just got engaged. So it's a good time to be with the family. Kris was pretty bummed when I said I was going home for my birthday, I think he had something planned, but he won't admit it. But he said okay to my plans nonetheless. Not that I really needed permission, but if he was planning something big I'd feel bad for ditching him.
I'd offered to let him come with me, but he'd decided against it. That probably wasn't such a bad idea anyway, since my parents were totally clueless about me enjoying the company of other men, Kris especially. So I was going alone, which meant we crammed our spending time together into the night before. THAT was why he was waking up half naked next to me instead of sitting in church with his wife and kids. I am NOT a home wrecker, dammit.
"Okay, you are here because A. you like laying half naked in my bed. And B. you haven't been to a church since you were married." I told him, shrugging.
"I have, too," He objected, sliding up the bed until he reached the headboard. "Just no times I told you about,"
I rolled my eyes, sweeping my feet off the bed until they hit the floor. I hissed at the cold tile as I stood. My slippers were not near the bed where I'd left them. Instead, one was underneath my desk and the other at the side of my dresser. I turned back to K-Mac and watched as he batted at Kris' hand. I loved the little fur ball, but we may have issues if he keeps relocating my slippers in the night. My floors were icy in the morning, I needed the gorillas to keep me warm. Yes, I have gorilla slippers. You have a house full of ceramic tile and hardwood and see what kind of slippers you wind up with.
Once my slippers were retrieved and my feet safely warm, I walked from the bedroom. K-Mac ran after me with a quiet meow, his nails scratching on the tile as he skidded to a stop at his food dish. Like usual, I walked right past him to the coffee pot, ignoring his loud meows of protest. He scratched at his bowl, making me chuckle as I put the coffee on. This was one plus side of having a cat and not an actual child; you could ignore a cat for a minute and he'd still be okay.
"Neglecting our child again, I see," Kris yawned, walking into the kitchen in just his boxers. He scratched his stomach as he bent down and gave K-Mac a cup full of food. "You're a bad mother. Julie always feeds our kids,"
I rolled my eyes, turning away from him and to the refrigerator. I'd just opened the door when I felt his arms slip around my waist and felt his breath on my neck. I sighed, leaning back against him and slipping my hand into his hair. He chuckled softly as he kissed at my neck. This was another plus to having a cat and not a kid. You can do things like this in front of a cat and not be considered a pervert. And whereas a kid is liable to interrupt (trust me, Kienan has got that one down), K-Mac just let us go without a sound. But Kris and I had come to understand quite quickly that Meow Mix was much more important to K-Mac than we were, especially us making out half naked in front of the refrigerator. But that's fine and good. We had more than enough perverted friends who enjoyed watching us kiss.
"Happy birthday, baby," He murmured into my neck.
"Mmm, thank you," I sighed as he pulled away.
"Happy THIRTIETH birthday,"
Now see, if I didn't know him as good as I did I may’ve just melted when he said Happy Birthday and not been able to retaliate. Instead I expected it, and was able to retaliate with a fist to his shoulder. It was really a simple thing to expect. Kris never said happy birthday without some kind of smart ass remark. When Julie had turned 30 in October, he'd ragged on her the entire day, until she finally got sick of it and shoved a piece of cake in his face. It was payback, as he said, for all the teasing she'd given him on the big 3 0. I'd done my fair share of teasing that day too, so I'd been waiting for my payback ever since. I was just hoping he wasn't that vindictive, Mac and I had gotten him pretty good that day.
"Yeah yeah," I grumbled, stepping past him to the coffee pot. "You don't have to rub it in, I know I'm old,"
"Aww," He mocked, wrapping his arms back around my waist. "I still love you, even if you are old,"
I just rolled my eyes and poured two cups of coffee, pushing them down the counter toward the sugar. "Sure you do," I pouted, stepping down the counter with Kris still latched onto my waist. "You're going to ditch me for some hot young stud the first chance you get,"
"Nah," He denied, unlatching himself from my waist and grabbing his cup of coffee. "You still look like a 16 year old with overactive facial hair,"
"Thank you," I giggled, shaking my head as I walked into the living room. "But 16 is being a bit generous,"
"Eh, maybe," He stated, dropping down onto the couch. "But it's true, you don't look old. How could you? There's dye covering all of your grey hairs,"
I shot him a cold glare and sat my coffee down on the end table beside the recliner. He grinned as he slid down the couch, putting his hands up in mock defense. It didn't matter to me either way. I tackled him around the waist as he tried to stand, sending him crashing to the couch. He squealed and squirmed beneath me as I tried to pin him down. I managed to capture his wrists with my hands, and from there it was easy pickings; I had a big enough strength and size advantage to pull them over his head and pin them there. He glared up at me, but the smile could be seen blatantly in his eyes. I grinned down at him triumphantly, wiggling slightly as I slid down his body, stopping just above his waist. A part of me wanted to keep going and see what I came in contact with. That part started with a D. But thankfully there was another part, this one starting with a B, that reminded me that we weren't ready for that, even as often as we both want to be.
We'd talked about that quite a few times. There were even some nights where it almost happened. But even in those nights where we felt so sure, nights where the desire was so thick you could choke on it, it never felt right. It never felt like it was the right time, or the right reason to take that step. And this was Kris, man of my dreams, the guy I'd been in love with for coming SO close to four years now. Something told me that if it didn't feel right, it wasn't right and not mean to happen at that time. I had no doubts that it would happen eventually. But for now I was more than satisfied just being with him. Besides, moments like this were almost as good. Almost.
"You," I growled, blowing at his hair. "Can really talk to me about hair dye," I glared down at him and shook my head.
"Hey, at least my natural color has been seen in the last decade," He teased, that cocky smirk returning to his lips.
Not thinking at all, I released his wrist and punched him in the chest. He took that opportunity to get free, grabbing my other hand from his wrist and collapsing me onto his chest. Before I had the chance to react, his arms were under mine and we were rolling off the couch. Unfortunately for us the coffee table wasn't far enough away for a clear landing, and we hit it on the way down. Kris' coffee toppled over, spilling onto the coffee table and drenching what few magazines graced the top. I watched with a sigh as the liquid poured from the table onto the freshly cleaned hardwood, rolling along until it connected with our legs. Kris grinned sheepishly, and I felt him move his leg so it rested on the non-coffee side of mine. I glanced up at him with a glare, and he responded by sticking his tongue out, following that up with a kiss.
"Clean it up," I ordered, trying to wriggle free from beneath him.
He shook his head. "I'm comfortable. It'll dry eventually anyway,"
I glared up at him again, and again he answered with a kiss. He was so damn frustrating sometimes. And what made it even worse was he was so damned cute while doing it. He got a sick joy out of taunting me. And after all these years, and especially with the last seven months or so we'd been together, he knew every possible way to do that. But he didn't have to do a whole lot in this situation, in all due respect to him. Anyone could figure out I wouldn't want coffee all over my floor. Or especially all over my leg.
"Clean. It. Up," I growled, still trying to break free.
"Fine," He pouted, releasing my wrists. "But I'm still not getting up to get a mop,"
"I don't care, just clean it up with something,"
A mischievous grin broke out across his face. I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, and sat up so I rested on my elbows. He leaned down and softly brought his lips to mine, his arms wrapping around my waist. I melted into the kiss, complying easily as he pushed me back to the floor. My hands slipped into his hair and his traveled slowly down my ribs, ticking the skin through my t-shirt. I whimpered as his fingers crept slowly beneath the fabric, easing gently up my sides. As my t-shirt inched further up my skin, I broke our kiss and looked up at him.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Getting something to clean the coffee up with,"
Before I had the chance to protest my shirt was being pulled off of me. Truth be told I wouldn't protest all that much anyway. Yeah, he was going to use my shirt to clean up coffee. But it was still Kris, pulling off my shirt. Those were Kris' fingers sliding up my chest and massaging my ni...oh, wow. He'd never done that before. I can't say I'm upset that he's doing it now, however. In fact, I think he could do it as long as he wanted, and I'd have no objections. I'd really forgotten how good this felt. But this was quickly reminding me....of nothing. My eyes shoot open and I stare up at him in a mild state of shock.
"Like that?" He snickered with a smirk, my t-shirt hanging over his shoulder.
"I. Hate. You," I glared up at him and crossed my arms across my chest. "Like more than Forsberg,"
He snickered again as he turned around and began soaking up the coffee with my t-shirt. I laid there trying my best not to pout and failing horribly. I think I had a right to pout. That was so like him, get me all worked up and then kick me down. I should've expected it. But it felt so damn good, I just wanted it to keep going. But nooo, he gave it and took it away just as fast. Sexy bastard. If I were a more vindictive person I might...
"Mmm. Done pouting I see," He whimpered softly as I returned his favor from earlier, except adding in some nibbles to his earlobe.
I didn't answer him, instead just continued in my actions. He completely ceased in his clean-up effort, leaving the shirt on the floor and leaning back against me. I couldn't stop a gasp as his skin pressed against mine. We had a lot of skin on skin contact, but this was just a little bit different. This was more...I don't know, different. There was a different feeling to be sitting here like this, his back pressed against my chest, my hands wandering freely along his skin. It wasn't like laying in bed together, or sneaking the occasional kiss after our showers in the locker room. This was just different, nice. How is it I wind up enjoying his payback's just as much as he does? There is something every wrong with this system. It's supposed to be payback, not groping until he says stop. Payback, Kirk, payback.
With a long sigh I pulled away, and stood up. I sat down on the couch, maneuvering so my hands rested conveniently in my lap. His head slowly turned toward me, fixing me with a smoldering glare. That returned my resistance, and I snickered, glancing down at his shorts.
"Like that did you?"
"I hate you. Like more than Roy,"
I gasped mockingly, placing my hand over my chest. "That hurt. I think I'll go wash the pain off in the shower," I snickered, pushing myself to my feet.
I walked smugly away from him, doing my best to block the blatant tent in my boxer-briefs. As I reached the bathroom door, I craned my head back to look at him. He sat in that same spot I'd left him, staring at me with an adorable look of shock etched across his face. I couldn't help but snicker, garnering a glare for my mockery. I smirked victoriously at him, dancing slightly as I walked into the bathroom.
"Hey Kirk," He yelled as I started to shut the door.
I opened the door back up and stuck my head out. "Hmm?" I asked, moving more behind the door as he walked toward me.
"You'd better make it a cold shower," He snickered, walking past me toward the bedroom.
Damn him! How does he ALWAYS get the last good shot in? Have I really lost that much of an edge when it comes to fighting with him? I used to always outwit him, but lately our battles had resulted in a rather lopsided score in favor of him. I don't know what has happened to me since we've been together, but I couldn't win one of these fights to save my life. As much as I love him, and as much as I enjoy being with him, I almost regret sometimes dating someone so even witted with me. The whole six-year friendship brought an interesting dynamic into these wars. He was able to capitalize on it while I apparently was not. I don't know why that was. Or actually I do. I'm not as evil as he is.
I thought no more about my defeat as I hopped into the shower. Our impromptu whatever-you-want-to-call-it in the living room had put me behind schedule, so now I'd have to hurry if I still wanted to make it to Cambridge for my own birthday dinner. I wouldn't honestly lose too much sleep if I missed it, that whole living room thing was just too much fun not to have happened. But it would be nice to get there on time, since my mom was making such a big deal about it. And it would be even nicer to not have to listen to Shawn say "So what took you so long? Huh huh huh?" all night long. Now that he knows about Kris and I, he's even more annoying. If that's at all humanly possible. Sometimes I wonder why little brother’s were ever created....
That thought's cut short as I step from the shower. I dry off quickly then fasten the towel around my waist and continue on about my morning routine. I'm 90% sure I'm really running late by now, so I hurry through it as quickly as I can, even bypassing a shave to save time. Luckily (or so I'm told) the stubble look works for me. And even if it doesn't, there's not a person I'll be seeing today that hasn’t seen me look much worse.
Once I look presentable to my standards, I slip my robe on and walk across to my bedroom. Kris' bag sits unzipped on my bed, signaling to me he'd already dressed. If he'd dressed without a shower, I was probably even more behind than I thought, he was big on being clean. I pulled the first outfit I saw, a charcoal grey sweater and a pair of black dress pants, from the closet and pulled it on quickly. I gave a glance at myself in the mirror, shaking my head at how rushed I looked. But seeing as I WAS rushing, I guess that would have to do. I grabbed my wallet and car keys from the dresser as I walked back to the living room, to say goodbye to my boyfriend and our "child" for the next couple days.
"Aww," I murmured as I noticed Kris, laying on the couch with K-Mac asleep on his chest.
He looked up and smiled, jerking his head toward the TV, which looked to be on the Weather Channel. "It's getting pretty bad out there," He explained, placing K-Mac on the back of the couch as he sat up. "Snow is rocking this entire half of the country. They're grounding planes and everything,"
"Damn," I stated, sitting down next to him. "Good thing we don't have a game to fly to or something,"
"No, no game. But you are going to drive in that," He sighed, looking at me concernedly.
My heart melted in an instant, and I couldn't stop myself from leaning over and planting a soft kiss to his lips. I loved it when he got all concerned. He got this cute little look on his face, and his voice got quiet, it was just adorable. I know I shouldn't find his concern adorable, but he was just too damned cute. And really, in this case he had no reason to be concerned. I'd been driving in the snow for 14 years, I could handle it. And besides, I knew the roads to Cambridge like the back of my hand. I'd made it there in Sean's beat down old truck, drunk out of my mind, I think me and my Silverado could make it through a little bit of snow.
"You have no reason to be worried," I assured him, patting him on the knee.
"Yeah, I do. You're driving 200 miles in a blizzard,"
I sighed and slipped my hand into his, giving it a light squeeze. "I'll be fine. I can handle a little snow,"
"Does that look like a little snow?" He asked, motioning to the TV, which was showing Downtown Detroit, blanketed in snow. "I don't want you to drive in that, Kirk,"
"Kris," I sighed, rubbing his palm with my thumb. "I'll be fine. Besides, if I don't go now it doesn't look like I'd get there for Christmas, and you know how much that means to me,"
"Kirk, I've just got a bad feeling," He sighed, standing and walking to the window. "I don't want you to drive in that,"
"Kris, I'm going," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "I'm sorry you think I shouldn't, but I'll be fine,"
He turned to me and shook his head. "Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?"
"How am I being stubborn?"
"Why can't you just listen to me this once? Is it that hard for you?"
"Is it that hard for YOU to believe that I can make a decision on my own? I'm not one of your kids, Kris,"
The second the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. A look of hurt swept across his face, kicking me in the stomach as our eyes connected. We held each other's gaze for only seconds before he stepped out of it and walked to the door. He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and almost furiously slipped it on, pulling his keys from the pocket.
"No, but you are my boyfriend. But apparently that doesn't give me the right to worry about you," He said with quiet hurt, opening the door. "You go, have fun. I'll see you when you get back,"
With that he turned and walked out, letting the door click closed behind him. It took me a minute before I could even comprehend what happened. In seven months, that was our first REAL argument. I think that may've been the first time since the Sergei situation that we even raised our voices to each other. I know we were far from the World's Perfect Couple, but this fight caught me completely off guard. Especially because it was over something so dumb. It had escalated so fast from something that started out as concern. I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. This was just not the time I wanted it to happen. It couldn't have picked a worst time actually, since I was leaving for three days. The second that thought hit my mind, I rushed out the door, just in time to see him pull out of the parking lot.
"Fuck," I shouted, kicking the side of the building before walking back into my apartment.
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and immediately dialed his number. It rang twice before he picked up. I took a deep breath to speak, but he beat me to the punch.
"I don't want to talk to you right now,"
Click. He hung up. What a wonderful way to start a holiday, being hung up on by your boyfriend. This was just spectacular. Now I had to drive three hours with this on my mind, where I was going to be reminded of it every 10 seconds in one way or another. Our first fight just HAD to happen on my birthday, three fucking days before Christmas. And it just had to end with him saying "I don't want to talk to you right now." I should've just listened to him when he said he didn't want me to drive. I think I'd rather have Kris speaking to me than a few days with my family. But instead, I stuck to my guns and now he didn't want to speak to me. What a great birthday present. Happy Fucking Birthday to me.
TBC
© 2003 Triple X
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