Warning: Contains real life M/M content. Obviously, none of this really happens, it’s just the product of my over-active sleep-depriving imagination. Also beware that I shamelessly insert myself into the fic! Hey, I’m the author, I’ll do what I please. ^__^ Told in Tommy Salo’s P.O.V unless otherwise stated.

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I should really un-plug my phone. Or block Janne’s phone number. Either way, the now platinum blond haired Finn was the reason I got little sleep last night. He phoned me frequently asking me why Sweden and Finland were eliminated by two inferior teams in the Semi-Final. I had to correct him: Sweden lost because of the fluke goal that bounced off my mask, and Finland lost not only because of his big mouth, but because they were kept at bay by the Canadians, although the Finns did do very well. Every call, it was the same answer, until I angrily un-plugged my phone for the night.

In the dressing room, the guys were busily talking with each other about the game later tonight against Nashville. Or about how Canada ‘whipped’ the Americans 5-2 in the Gold medal game. Sighing softly, I cracked my neck, to the displeasure of Todd (Marchant), who was sitting beside me. "Don’t you know you can crack your neck seriously by doing that?" he demanded.

"You really can’t," I replied, as I tied the straps of my kneepads. "Besides, Jason (Smith) does it all the time and you don’t nag at him about it."

Dominic (Pittis), who was sitting to my left, wrinkled his nose and turned to Rem. "That is the longest sentence I have ever heard leave Tommy’s mouth in this dressing room." He turned to me. "You feelin’ all right, Tommy?"

At this, I snorted softly. I am soft-spoken, but I do actually talk. But to Dominic, I nodded. "Yeah, I’m all right, you don’t have to worry about me."

Eric (Brewer) turned to Tom (Poti) and grinned, showing his Gold medal. "Guess you have to stick your foot in your mouth with all those Anti-Canada comments, Poti! Take a look at this. Olympic Gold." I chuckled, a grin coming to my lips. Tom had been in the side column of the Edmonton Sun’s Sports section on the second page, heavily quoted with his comments about Canada.

Tom stuck out his tongue as he shoved his helmet on his head. "Real mature there Tom," Jason called from across the dressing room. "When all else fails, blow raspberries." The guys laughed, and I shook my head.

Ryan turned to Janne, who was beside him, and also grinned. "Hey, who was it that had the biggest mouth of all of us patriotically? And that Finland could beat Canada?" Ryan asked.

"Janne!" we chorused, even myself and Jussi.

"Oh shut up, all of you," Janne grouched. "I had good reason to say what I did." He pointed to Eric and Ryan. "You guys were just lucky."

"Not to mention better," Ryan joked. "Ah, we’re just kidding with ya, Janne. Geez, it’s probably that blond hair that’s making you so irritable!"

Janne threw his glove at Ryan, nailing him in the head, but smiled. "That has nothing to do with it! Tommy and Jussi have blond hair and I don’t see you, Mullet boy, getting on their case." He pointed to Jussi. "And you! You’re supposed to stand up for Finland! Where’s your pride?"

Jussi popped the bubble had absently blown with gum and shrugged. "You have a big enough mouth to defend Finland for me," he said, and I laughed outright. Although my eyes could have been playing tricks on me, I could have sworn I saw him blush. Scratching the back of my neck, I shrugged it off, and found Janne staring at me.

"What did I do?" I asked, staring back at him blankly. "Which reminds me. Stop calling me so often so late! Find someone else to annoy in the evenings."

The guys whistled. "You trying to find a date, Jan?" Scott (Ferguson) joked, nudging the blond Finn. "I must admit, Tommy is a fine choice for you big mouth!"

Janne caught his glove that Ryan threw back and hurled it at Scott. Though out all of this, I was discreetly watching Jochen. He laughed with the rest of the guys, but stayed out of the post-Olympic banter. Suddenly, a whistle was blown, and we all jumped out of our skins at one noise that was louder than all of us. Standing by the door that led to the rink, Craig stood, decked out in his usual Oiler trainer gear. "Okay, ladies, if you’re done with the chit-chat, let’s get on that ice and make sure our game can de-fang the Predators tonight." We saluted, and filed out onto the ice.

I yawned before stepping onto the ice, and skated silently over to the net on the left side of the face-off circle. I stretched out, then nodded to the guys, who began trying to deke me out and score. We had been divided into the light and dark sweaters, and Jochen was on the dark team, me being on the light. As he crossed the blue line, Georges (Laroque) was right behind him, hooking his stick at Jochen’s side, trying to get him to mishandle the puck. "HOOKING!" Anson (Carter) yelled repeatedly from the blue line.

My eyes focused on the puck that was being handled well by Jochen, never mind he was trying to shove big Georges off his back. Suddenly, Jochen, skating too far in, got pushed a little too hard by Georges, and he tripped on *something*, I didn’t what it was, because the next thing I knew, the two crashed into the net. Georges went off to the side, but Jochen landed on top of me. At the time, I was immensely grateful for my mask for the sole reason it hid my blushing. But due to his weight on top of me, I quipped, "what do you eat for breakfast? Bricks??"

Jochen fell off me laughing, as he rolled a little ways before sitting up, a grin on his face. Just before he rolled off, I saw a camera flash, and my head turned to the bench where a dark haired young woman with a camera waved energetically. It was Sasha Janre, Eric’s girlfriend, who worked as a sports photographer, specifically Hockey, for the Edmonton Sun. "Hello Tommy, Jochen! Beautiful fall!" she called.

"That better not get into the paper," Jochen said, still sitting on the ice.

Sasha looked stricken. "Are you kidding? This is gold! It’ll be on the front page of the sports section for Terry Jones’ article!" At that, Jochen looked at me with wide eyes, and I blinked a few times blankly.

Jussi’s eyes widened as Jochen sprawled out on Tommy--his Tommy--and Sasha taking the picture from the other side of the rink. It was an accident, but Jussi couldn’t help but feel jealous. He must have been staring pretty openly, because Eric skated up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Y-yeah?" Jussi responded, hoping Eric didn’t see what exactly he was staring at.

Eric’s face was set in a serious expression, and he gestured towards the still sitting Tommy Salo with his glove. "Jussi, do you *like* Tommy? I saw you staring at him," Eric began quietly, whispering it into the goalie’s ear.

Stunned, Jussi’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out. ‘Great job, Markkenen. What do you say now?’

-TBC-