Author’s insane notes: <dodges a bunch of flying blunt objects> Ah! I’m SORRY! But I really wanted to stick that in there for some reason, just don’t ask…ha, so I got you all confused now? Sweet deal! ^__^ Dude, I’m ecstatic that people from Sweden and Germany are reading my fics, it’s so unreal! And I’m glad that I’m making a hockey fan out of you, Valerie! <Grin> I do what I can for the good of the people!

This is the confusing chapter where Ryan is bordering on Russell Crowe in "A Beautiful Mind" and Joe’s angst-y. But what happened to Steve? Also, Eric Brewer stalks the photographer from Edmonton, and Theo wears pink! What actually happens? Read on and find out! XD This one starts off in Eric Brewer’s P.O.V., just because I want all of you to wait for what happens after Joe’s kiss to Ryan. ^_~

We were finally released from our unofficial grounding, and from what I found out from Ryan, Joe’s reaction was the same as Brendan, and Steve had the wonderful task of trying to calm him down. Before our game against Germany, I wanted to find two people: one was Tommy Salo, so I could rant and rave at him for shutting our team down, and two: the photographer that came here from Edmonton.

Jerome was sleeping like a rock, so I ventured out of our room and found Paul. "Hey, you up for some wandering around the Olympic Village?" I asked, noting he was bored out of his mind, reading a McLean’s magazine that had a picture of a really old guy in a tweed suit and thick glasses on the cover.

"Anything to lift the boredom," Paul said, and I smiled. "Since we were unofficially grounded, there’s been nothing to do except pick repeatedly at our poor play against Sweden. Hey, if you see Tommy anytime soon, you should warn him to stay away from Joe and Brendan."

I laughed. "I was going to go find Tommy, speak of the devil. Want to come with me anyway?" Paul agreed, and we walked out of the hotel and out into the Olympic Village. We were stopped occasionally by rabid Canadian fans asking for autographs, and they wished us well against Germany. "I love the Canadian fans."

"We’re so loud, did you notice that?" Paul asked, gesturing to the group of Canadian fans with red and white body paint, having a whooping contest with some German fans. "I mean, a group of five Canadian fans could overpower a group of fifteen other fans."

Nodding, I said, "it’s the pride, man. We Canadians are loud and proud to be what we are. I think it’s great, not to mention uplifting after the Swedish loss." Paul nodded his agreement and I spotted Tommy talking to Nikolas Lidström. "There’s the Swedish pain in the ass, Kariya. Let’s go say hello."

"Should we say it loud and proud?" Paul joked as we walked through the crowd to where the two Swedes were. "Hey! Salo! Lidström! Collect call from Canada!"

Tommy and Nikolas turned from their conversation and shook their heads ruefully. "Do you Canadians always have to cause such a ruckus?" Nikolas asked.

"Dude, of course," I replied, as if it was the dumbest question in the world. I pointed to Tommy. "If you have any will to live, you better stay out of Shanahan and Sakic’s way, you hear me?"

"I’ll do just that," Tommy said, smiling. "You two aren’t here to kidnap me and throw me in a little, dark, smelly room somewhere outside Salt Lake are you?"

Paul and I mugged at each other, pretending to be shocked. "How did you know?" Paul asked. "Who leaked our secret plan out?"

"Well, you Canadians are so loud, it’s hard not to hear what you’re saying," Nikolas said, and ducked as I swung a right at him, jokingly. "Are you looking for someone?"

Paul grinned. "Eric’s looking for a female photographer that caught his eye from Edmonton."

I was shocked. "Paul, how did you know that?"

"Jerome told me."

"He’s a dead man," I vowed.

Tommy put on a thoughtful face. "Does she have medium length black hair, blond bangs and a Team Canada jersey on?" he asked.

"Yeah, have you seen her?" I asked him, almost urgently.

"No," Tommy said, and I let out a frustrated sigh. A grin broke out on the Swedish net-minder’s face, and I glared at him. "Yeah, I have. Nikolas and I saw her—hey, there she is."

I turned around to where Tommy was pointing, and I saw her taking a picture of Brett Hull and Mike York. Paul nudged me. "Go talk to her, Eric. Move your legs and get over there."

"I don’t know if you can’t tell, but I’m trying," I muttered. "I don’t know what to say, Paul."

He raised an eyebrow. "How about the ever popular ‘hello’ for starters? That seems like a good way to strike up a conversation." Before I could protest, Paul shoved me, and I stumbled over to where she was with Brett and Mike.

She greeted me with a warm smile. "Hey."

And of course, this would be the perfect time for my mouth to stop working…

** Ryan **

I had been avoiding Joe like the plague. Which was a little difficult considering he was my team-mate, and in the room directly across from mine. But I managed to do it. That was until Steve caught on to my uncharacteristic behaviour.

"Ryan," Steve began from right behind me, and I yelped, jumping about three feet into the air.

"Must you do that???" I demanded, glaring at him.

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Ryan, what’s up with you? You’re awfully…tense."

Joe Sakic kissed me, Steve. That’s what’s up with me. He kissed me and I have no fucking clue why he did it, or why I liked it. "I just didn’t get enough sleep, that’s all," I lied, running a hand through my hair. "Plus coffee, very nerve fraying."

"You’re lying," he said simply.

"What?"

Steve gave me a ‘I don’t believe that shit for one minute’ look. "You’re not telling me the truth, Ryan."

"Sure I am. I am truth boy," I told him. I spotted Joe coming down the hall, talking with Mario. "Steve, I’m gonna go get something to eat."

"But you just ate." Shit, shit, shit, shit!

"I’m a 25 year-old hockey player! Am I not allowed to have a bottomless pit for a stomach?" I asked, pretending to be offended. Before Steve could say anything, I cut him off, saying "See ya later, Steve," and left, trying very hard not to break out into a sprint to get away from Joe Sakic.

This proved to be very futile, as I soon found out, as somehow, (and I’m still not sure how the hell this happened) Joe was standing in front of me. "Ryan—"

"Holy shit!" I yelled, stumbling backwards and connecting with the wall. "How the hell did you get in front of me? You were behind me when I was talking to Steve!"

Joe pointed to his left. "Mario and Al’s room is connected to Chris and Simon’s room which leads out to this hallway." I saw his point, and as I began to walk away, Joe grabbed my arm. "Ryan, we need to talk."

Talk? Oh no. I was in no condition to talk about that. Whatever the hell that was. That kiss had plagued me for most of today, occupying my mind more so than the fact we were playing Germany later today. "Talk? What about?"

He exhaled sharply. "You know what about, Smytty."

I shook my head. "No, I really don’t."

"Do you want me to say what it is out here?" Joe hissed, gesturing to where Steve and Mario were talking. "With the guys listening?"

He had a point. Finally, I relented. "Where do you want to talk about this?" I asked, sighing deeply.

Joe looked relieved. "Would it be all right if it was my room? Paul’s gone out with Eric…something about the Olympic Village."

I shrugged, pretending to be calm and cool. "Yeah, sure, that’s fine with me." Joe nodded and I followed him to the room he and Paul Kariya shared. Immediately, I sat down backwards on the desk chair, while Joe sat in the other one, facing me.

Joe took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. "Ryan, I’m sorry if what I did yesterday freaked you out, but I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen."

I looked out the window, pretending to be involved in the snow falling lightly on the national villages. "It did freak me out, Joe. Because I didn’t expect to be kissed on this Olympic trip, let alone by a guy." I sighed. "Why’d you do it?"

"What?"

"I said, why did you do it?" I repeated. "Why did you kiss me, Joe?"

The Colorado Captain looked conflicted, and when he opened his mouth, no words came out, but the door was being knocked, rather, banged upon. "Joe! Ryan! We’re going to the E-Centre right now!" Pat yelled.

Joe turned to me. "We’ll talk about this later, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah…later." As we walked to the vans that would take us to the E-Centre for the game against Germany, Chris Pronger stopped me. "Yeah, Chris?"

"Ryan, there’s something I wanted to ask you about," Chris said in a hushed voice.

I groaned. How many potentially bad things would I have to talk about? "What is it, Chris?"

"I saw you kiss Joe Sakic."

-TBC-