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“Teemu, wake up. Wake up now Teemu.”
Teemu opens one eye, glares at Paul, then closes it again.
“Teemu you have to wake up. Alex Ovechkin is in our bed.”
Teemu snorts and rolls over to put his arm around Paul.
Behind his back, Paul starts to laugh.
“Yeah, that’s not me. That’s Ovechkin.”
Teemu opens his eyes again, then glares over his shoulder. That’s definitely Paul, lying on his stomach and silently laughing at him.
That means his little spoon is not Paul.
Teemu pulls back and kicks forward at the same time so violently that he knocks both Paul and Ovechkin out of the bed.
-*-
Paul stops having the upper hand by the time that they’ve gotten coffee. Teemu and Ovi actually know each other, somehow. Paul chalks it up to them both getting stuck doing publicity work for the NHL as a whole.
Teemu claims it's their number eight bond. Ovi high fives him after he says it.
Paul leaves them them doing impressions of Bruce Boudreau in the living room to scramble some eggs.
The voices in the other room become concerningly quiet. Paul decides that, in the interest of having enough eggs for any more magically appearing houseguests, he’s allowed to peek back into the room.
Teemu and Ovi have their heads together, and they’re talking seriously.
“You two, for a long time?” Ovi is asking.
“Almost twenty years,” Teemu says. Paul rolls his eyes. Sleeping together at an All-Star game with no intention of seeing each other again does not the start of a relationship make. It's been more like seventeen years. Teemu’s just full of it.
Paul would tell him that if he wasn’t, you know, watching the eggs. From the other side of the room. The side closer to the living room door.
“So even as teammates?” Ovi presses.
“Yeah,” Teemu says, “Why?”
“Did that make it hard? To play?” Ovi asks. Which doesn’t answer the why question, Paul notes.
“No, Paul is sexy but not enough to distract me,” Teemu says, which is just rude. Paul’s ass does not quit.
“What about if you fight? Do passes still connect? Does hockey make you fight?”
Teemu seems like he’s going to consider his answer, which Paul is very interested in hearing. But from the counter, the phone starts to ring.
Ovi jumps a mile in the air, and shutters close behind his eyes.
“I’ve got it!” Paul yells, “Keep, you know, doing whatever you’re doing! Eggs will be done soon.”
He answer the phone without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello, which ever one of you answered the phone this time,” says Joe Sakic.
“Hello Joe, how’s your day?”
“Well something crazy happened to me this morning, and when crazy things happen to me it's usually Teemu’s fault.”
“It is not!” Paul says out of marital obligation, even though it's mostly true.
“No, I guess not. But I already called Roy and it's not him this time.”
“Are you sure?” Paul presses.
“Not 100% but let me ask you this; did you wake up with Alex Ovechkin in your bed?”
“How the hell did you know that?”
“It was kind of a lucky guess,” says Joe. “See, when I woke up this morning I had Nick Backstrom in my bed. He was totally in shock, because he thought that I was Ovi. When he realized that it was me, he calmed down. So I figured that meant that Ovi is out there somewhere too.”
“Really? He was just asleep in your bed?”
“Yeah,” says Joe. “It happens to me all the time.”
“I’m so glad I’m not going crazy, I- all the time?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what it is, but they’re always having relationship trouble. Last time it was some kid from the Penguins. Very blond. They traded his boyfriend. Said he was from California, I don’t know why the hockey gods couldn’t have sent him to you guys,” Joe says this all very matter a factly, which Paul finds comforting as long as he doesn’t think about it too hard.
“Wait so you think that Ovi and Backstrom are having relationship problems?” Paul focuses on that.
“I think they’re having a lack of relationship problem,” Joe says.
“You just made that up,” Paul says, then lunges toward where the pan of eggs is smoking.
“Think about it. Nick wasn’t expecting to wake up with someone, because Ovi never sleeps over. He calmed down when he realized he’d been magically transported to my bed in Denver, that’s how weird the idea of Ovi sleeping over is to Nick.”
Paul makes an affirmative noise from where he’s pulling burnt bits out of the eggs.
“I’m serious Paul. They never get transported if they’re not having relationship problems, that must be the problem. What’s Ovi doing?”
“He’s just asking Teemu questions.” Paul throws a bunch of cheese on top of the salvaged eggs and puts them back on the pan.
“What kind of questions though?”
“He asked him if the two of us had been together for a long time, if hockey ever made us fight, if Teemu ever got distracted playing on a line with me.”
“Doesn’t that sound like maybe he’s having reservation about dating a teammate and is trying to figure out if its worth it?” Joe says rather smugley.
Holy shit.
“Holy shit,” says Paul. “You’re good at this.”
“I do it all the time,” says Joe, “Jonathan Toews used to show up so often that I bought him a coffee mug.”
“Chicago Jonathan Toews?” Paul asks, as he tries to figure out which parts of the eggs he can hide under ketchup.
“Yeah,” says Joe. “I considered kicking him out of the bed the first time, as a rivalry joke, but he didn’t seem like he would have taken that very well.”
“What number does Backstrom wear?” Paul asks.
“I have no idea, to be honest. He’s in the east. I’ll ask, hang on.”
“You do that,” says Paul, then shouts, “Teemu, where are the english muffins?”
“I put them in the fruit bowl,” Teemu yells back.
“Babe, an english muffin is not a fruit,” Paul yells back, and Ovi laughs.
“Could be a fruit, if you’re creative,” he answers, this time with Teemu laughing in the background.
“I question that,” says Paul. “Breakfast sandwiches will be ready in like two minutes.”
“He wears 19,” Joe comes back on the line.
“Just like you and Jonathan Toews,” Paul points out.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Maybe Ovi didn’t wake up in my bed, he woke up in Teemu’s bed because they both wear eight. And I just happened to be there.”
“You think it's a number thing?” Joe asks.
“Do you have a better idea?” Paul says.
“Not really,” Joe admits. “Except, how come none of them ever bother Yzerman then?”
On his side of the phone, a timer dings.
“Hang on, those are the muffins,” Joe says.
“You made muffins?”
“Yeah,” says Joe distractedly. “I mean it's not like I’m going to let him starve.”
“This is why they all go to you and not Stevie,” Paul says, and hangs up on Joe.
Paul looks down at the three lopsided english muffin and egg sandwiches.
“Fucking muffins,” he mutters, then carries the sandwiches out to the living room.
-*-
By the middle of the day, no one has any kind of plans so they resort to sitting the porch and day drinking. Paul finds some Sam Adams hidden in the bottom of the fridge and gets an idea.
“You remember this right? This is the same beer you bought me the day we met,” Paul tells Teemu as he hands over a bottle.
“That’s right!” Teemu says, “Best wingman ever, this Sam.”
Paul perches himself on Teemu’s good knee and looks over at Ovi.
“We met at the Allstar game, but we didn’t date until he got traded and we were on the same team,” Paul says, then pinches the back of Teemu’s neck lightly.
“Oh! Yeah! And wasn’t that nice, playing together,” Teemu tells Ovi, then lowers his voice, “Like I said before, much easier when you’re teammates.”
Paul spares a thought for the blond penguin that Joe had to deal with. Being separated from Teemu by trade was like the third worst thing that had ever happened to him in hockey. Maybe fourth, depending well he’s doing repressing the memory of the Duck’s original alternate jersey.
Ovi, for his part nods slightly, then looks at Paul.
“So how are the Caps set? Ok? I keep hearing about your assists guy, but I forget his name.”
“Nicky,” says Ovi, then clears his throat, “Nicklas. Backstrom.”
“Yeah, him! He’s impressive,” Paul says, then pulls a drink of beer.
“If he wasn’t Swedish,” Teemu starts, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Ovi starts yelling in agreement at the exact moment that Paul hits him to shut him up.
-*-
Ovi proves to be a lovely house guest. He helps to cook dinner and wash dishes. Paul might even ask him to stay longer, if he wasn’t pretty sure that this stay was being controlled by magic.
Teemu is very invested in the tennis match, so he keeps walking out of the room to check the scores. One of the times he walks out, Ovi turns to Paul.
“If you did it again, would you do it the same?” he asks Paul.
“Yes,” says Paul without any hesitation. “Yes, its not the easiest thing in the world, but I don’t think any real relationship would be when you’re playing. But the straight guys, they still meet women, they still settle down, even if they might have to uproot their family or break up because phone tag is too hard. Its just a different set of problems.”
“No regrets?” Ovi presses anyway.
“No. And even if Teemu and I had broken up, I still wouldn’t regret any of it. Because I love him. Just like I think that you love Nicky.”
Ovi focuses on the plate that he’s scrubbing ketchup off of.
“I’m scared to hurt him,” Ovi says as Teemu walks back into the room.
Teemu walks over and claps Ovi on the back.
“So, what?” Teemu asks. “You’re staying to just sleeping with him?”
Ovi makes an aborted shrug-nod gesture. Teemu makes a humph-ing sound, and launches into a long spheel about how when you only have half of what you want then you owe it to everyone to try for everything.
Ovi seems to be taking it to heart. Paul checks out when he realizes that it's basically the same speech that Teemu used to give about the Stanley Cup.
-*-
Ovi either comes to some sort of conclusion, or gets sick of Teemu’s speech, because no one really addresses it for the rest of the evening. Ovi and Teemu bond over the tennis game. Paul suffers through it even though he doesn’t understand. He stays awake by virtue of their yelling, but by the fourth yawn he’s ready to go to bed.
Then he sits bolt upright, and takes off back to the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Teemu yells.
“I said I’d call Joe Sakic, I’ll just be a minute. Keep watching your game.”
“Its a match,” Ovi yells.
“Schematics,” Paul says, then dials the phone.
“Hello?” Joe answers.
“Where is he going to sleep?”
“What,” Joe asks, “are you talking about?”
“Ovi,” Paul says, “He’s still here, where is he supposed to sleep tonight?”
“In your guy’s bed,” Joe answers slowly, in a voice that says ‘obviously.’
“Does he have to?” Paul whines, “That’s three hockey players. Its not a very big bed.”
“I’ve seen you sleep in a shower stall before,” Joe chastises.
“That was once, during the Olympics, when I was very drunk,” Paul says with dignity. “That was completely different.”
“Yeah, well, he has to sleep in the same bed he woke up in. Otherwise he can’t get back.”
“Can’t I just put him on a plane?” Paul asks.
“Paul, you’re being silly. Just have shower sex if you and Teemu are going to be that way, and then let Ovi sleep in the bed. That’s how this thing works. I have to go, Nick is showing me how to make Raggmunk.”
-*-
Its exactly as uncomfortable for the three of them to share the bed as Paul had anticipated, and at least three time more awkward. Nonetheless, Ovi is gone in the morning.
In the evening, Teemu’s phone lights up with a text from Ovi. Its 17 parentheses, and nothing else.
“Aw,” says Teemu. “They worked it out.”
Paul eyeballs the phone. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” Teemu says, as the phone gets another text.
“We talked, we r dating for real now, thank you.”
Paul puts his head on Teemu’s shoulder, then the phone goes off for a third time.
“plz tell joe thank you also.”
Teemu looks over at Paul in confusion.
“What does Joe have to do with this?”
Paul manages to summarize both the conversations he had with Joe, which Teemu accepts without too much question. They fall back into the motions of their day, until Paul notices Teemu staring out into space.
“What are you thinking?”
Teemu turns his head.
“I’m trying to remember who else wears eight. And who wears nine. Do you think its just NHL or is it other leagues too?”
Paul groans and puts his heads in his hands.
“I bet this doesn’t happen to Gretzky.”
Teemu gives him an odd look.
“No, Paulie,” he says slowly, ”Probably not.”
-*-
Several months later, Paul wakes up with Teemu whispering in his ear.
“Remember that time I told you that if we were ever going to have a threesome, it should be with Forsberg? This is not what I meant.”
In the dark of the room, Paul can just make out someone in a Nashville jersey sleeping at the foot of the bed.
