"Jilson fires a hard shot to the net, Thornton gets the tip, HE SCORES!"

I leaned forward in excitement as they showed the instant replay of Scotty's goal. Damn, it was beautiful--the puck was at least three feet off the ice when he batted it into the net. I grinned at the stunned look on Thorty's face as Reech and the rest of the guys crowded around him, patting his helmet and offering congratulations. He had a career high of 21 goals right now, but he always looked surprised each time one found the net.

"Fuck, what a goal," Todd Harvey groaned from the other side of the couch. I nodded in agreement. Harvey, Stephane Matteau and I were sprawled out in the lounge in front of the TV, watching the game being played just a few feet away. We were all still on injured reserve, but Harvey and Matteau had joined the morning skate, and I just wanted to show my teammates support. Since I couldn't be on the ice, this was the next best thing.

"God, I wish I was out there," Harvey sighed, falling back against the couch with a groan of defeat. I smiled and patted his shoulder. "You will be," I assured him, to which he nodded sullenly. We were all feeling restless at the break in play, but the fiery young center was taking it especially hard. Harv was one of the hardest working players on the team, and it was killing him that he couldn't be out there helping to win.

"Shit," Matteau muttered, drawing my attention back to the screen. Zubov was near the net, surrounded by his cheering teammates, and I realized with a sinking heart that he had scored. A glance at the clock showed under four minutes remaining. With the score at 3-2, and the Stars finally getting their heads into the game, I knew Dallas's attack would be hard and fast. I just hoped Nabokov was up to it.

"Damn, that was close," Harvey muttered as a hard wrister from Modano went just wide of the net. I watched with a sick feeling as our guys tried but failed to clear it, Jason Arnott gathering up the errant puck. "Fucking Arnott," I grumbled, drawing a surprised look from Matteau. I didn't usually swear, but the sight of Modano and Arnott together on the ice, driving toward the net with a fluidity and machine-like precision that belied Arnott's short tenure with the Stars, was enough to provoke a few curses. Damn, but he was *tall*, 6'5" at least; fast enough, but no match for Sturm. Unfortunately, he didn't have to be. Modano was a blur of stick and skates, flicking a perfect pass to the big center who one-timed it to the net. How Nabby made the save, I'll never know. After seven years in the NHL, I've come to the conclusion that goaltenders simply aren't human.

Dallas threw an amazing 18 shots at us, but Nabokov stopped them all with the cool confidence we've come to depend on. With LA's loss to Phoenix this put us back in sole possession of first. It was a giddy feeling, almost frightening--we'd never come this far.

After the game I wandered into the locker room to wait for the guys to return. As expected they were full of energy, voices and laughter filling the small room. Jillson was practically vibrating with adrenaline, hopping up and down as he talked to Patrick Marleau. I was happy for both of them, especially Patty--I knew that scoreless slump had been hitting him hard. I considered going over and congratulating him when I felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around my waist and a warm mouth press to my throat.

"Hey," I murmured, a little shakily, my heartbeat nearly doubling in response to his touch. I felt him smile against the back of my neck, stubble scratchy against my skin.

"Hey Nikky," he responded, pressing a brief kiss to my shoulder before releasing me. I turned to face him, smiling, and he gave me that Cheshire cat grin that melts me down to my skates.

"Good game," I said, grinning back. "That was a pretty goal." He blushed a little, uncomfortable with the praise, and it was so sweet and innocent and fucking sexy that I just had to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around me without even thinking, one hand running through my spiky blond hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was. It felt so right, and his tongue felt so good against mine, that I almost forgot we were making out in the middle of the locker room. Almost.

"Damn, you two, get a room!" Ricci shouted good-naturedly, flashing his famous gap-toothed grin. Scott pulled away and winked at him over my shoulder.

"We already did. It was your room in Vancouver on the road trip. Didn't you notice the rumpled sheets?" Sturm, Marleau and Nolan dissolved into laughter at the expression of mock-horror on Ricci's face. I chuckled and Scotty grinned down at me, dark eyes bright with a mixture of amusement and affection.

"I miss you on the ice," he murmured, sliding his hands down to rest at the small of my back. I tried to fight the furious blush rising in my face, but I knew it was obvious by the way his smile widened.

"I miss being on the ice," I replied, a little sullenly. "Is not so fun to watch you and Reech getting all the action."

"Oh, you want to see more action, do you?" Scotty inquired with a finely raised brow. I laughed at his double-entendre and played along, nodding earnestly. He chuckled and lowered his mouth to my ear, soft lips barely brushing the lobe. "I think that can be arranged," he murmured, warm breath tickling my neck, making me shiver and close my eyes. Mouth soft and tender against my throat, licking delicately at the pulse, then sucking hard enough to draw an involuntary gasp. I opened my eyes, embarrassed, only to see the locker room deserted except for the two of us. Scott traced the line of my jaw with his thumb tenderly, then slid his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in for a deep, satisfying kiss. By the time he pulled away I was gasping for breath and feeling more than a little dizzy.

"You'll be back in the line-up soon," he assured me, running his fingers absently through my hair. "But until then..." Paused, gave me a dazzling smile. "I'm sure we can find something to keep you busy."

I kissed him briefly, then leaned back in his embrace, chuckling. "If this is my compensation for not being able to play, maybe I'll stay on injured reserve forever."