Better Than Gold

Bluest-of-Jayys

It had been a while since Finland and Sweden had last seen each other in person, what with the Winter Olympics coming up in Nagano. Almost six months to be precise. So, Finland's reaction upon seeing his closest friend the night of February 16th, 1998 was totally justified.

He ran up to Sweden and locked his arms around the taller man's shoulders.

"Sve! It's been a long time!" he chirped excitedly, shaking his friend's hand with enough enthusiasm for Sweden to break into a smile. He still decked out in his white and blue jersey from the day's match against Kazakhstan, and his hands quivered from the remaining adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"It really has," he replied, clasping Finland's hand in his, "you've been doing well so far, 'Specially in th' match today."

Finland scratched at his reddening cheek. "Always flattering me, Sve. That can't be good for my ego."

Sweden let out a short laugh in reply. "Check again in two days," he teased.

"You did not just…" Finland's lips curled into a feral grin. He chipped one of his teeth today, noted Sweden.

"I may have." Sweden answered coolly, raising an eyebrow. "I accept yer challenge, Fin."

Finland let out a loud whoop, bumping his chest against Sweden's. "I can't wait!" he roared, "You'd better be ready to eat my stick, Sve!"

"Hold on," Sweden said, "what's in it for me if I win our quarter-final match?"

"I can't believe you're playing that game, Sve," whined Finland. He tapped his chin in thought before saying, "If you win, you get to request anything you want from me. If I win, I get to do the same. Deal?" he held out his hand.

Sweden accepted his handshake. "Deal."

"Great!" Finland cheered, "now let's get drunk!"

XxX

February 18th, 1998. The Big Hat Arena, Nagano, Japan. Finland and his men's team strode confidently onto the ice to meet Sweden and his team, all draped in the colors of their respective countries. Electricity crackled in the chilled air, and all around them, the five thousand people in attendance cheered for the age-old rivalry that was Swedish-Finnish Ice Hockey.

"You remember our agreement?" asked Finland, smirking.

"I couldn't forget if I tried," replied Sweden, lips set into a hard line. They crossed their sticks and parted to their respective sides.

The game began. By the end of the first period, neither had scored a point, though there had been some close shots on both sides. Sweden cursed inwardly, how had the Finnish team gotten so agile? Although, at the same time, he commended Finland's efforts in putting together such a solid team, even though that solid team knocked his chances of winning down a few pegs.

He glanced at Finland, teeth gritted, eyes blazing through the visor of his hockey helmet. C'mon, Sweden. Focus, he reminded himself, this ain't about a dare no longer. It's a matter of national pride. The siren sounded, and Sweden leapt back into action.

The second period wasn't much different from the first, save for the heightened aggressiveness that seemed to permeate the arena. Both his men and Finland's men were making and blocking shots like there was no tomorrow, yet the score was still 0-0. One period left, and someone had to win. Sweden wanted to make sure it was him.

He briefly wondered what thoughts ran through Finland's mind as he glared across the ice, not at anyone in particular, just across the ice. Finland looked so focused, as if he had pushed any thought unrelated to ice hockey out of his mind. Sweden understood that feeling, the feeling of just himself, his men, the puck, and the ice beneath his skates. He tapped his stick against the ice nervously. The third period was about to begin.

For the first four minutes of the third period, neither Sweden nor Finland scored. Then suddenly, a puck slid between the Swedish goalie's feet and he toppled to the ice as the Finns let out a terrifying cheer. They had just scored.

Eight minutes later, they scored again, passing the puck between the members of their team and knocking it into the goal. 2-0, Finland. Sweden growled. He was not going to lose this.

Finland skated by him, lingering long enough to send him a smug smirk that made Sweden go hot in more ways than one. Refusing to give up, he urged his teammates on, and less than a minute before the very end, the Swedes pulled together one last, desperate time to send the puck flying into the Finnish goal.

He hadn't completely lost, but Finland had most definitely won with a score of 2-1. The Finns glided onto the center of the rink, cheering wildly in celebration of their victory over their fated rival. Sweden cast his gaze around at his team; they all looked beat. He would have to treat them to drinks before the games ended.

Meanwhile, Finland was filled with boundless exhilaration. He had beaten Sweden! In the Quarterfinal of the Winter Olympics! What a feat! As he leapt and cheered among his teammates, a stray memory floated into his mind.

I made a dare with Sweden, he realized, casting his gaze around to search for the Swede.

He found Sweden in the locker room, resting on a bench with his jersey in a heap next to him. Sweat glistened on his broad shoulders and trickled down his muscled back, which heaved with every breath he took. Finland lay a gentle hand on Sweden's arm.

"You played well," he said, smiling.

Sweden returned the smile. "'Bout time ya beat me."

Finland let out a snort. "I agree. I didn't forget the dare, by the way."

"Oh? Ya think of somethin'?" asked Sweden.

Finland nodded. "It came to me around the end of the second quarter. I decided that if I won, I would make you kiss me."

"Kiss you?" repeated Sweden, dumbfounded.

"On the lips," affirmed Finland. His voice suddenly became sheepish. "I mean, if it's not too much of a bother, but we did shake on it…"

His train of thought was cut off by another pair of lips on his. They left much too soon, however, when Sweden pulled back to reply, "Ya don't have to make me kiss you." He reached out to stroke Finland's hair, matted down from too much time under a hockey helmet. "I already want to."

No further words were needed; Finland happily wrapped his arms around Sweden's bare shoulders and pulled him back down into their kiss.

End

AN: For Surströmmiakki fest 2014. Prompts were Sports, 1990s, and Dare. It took me a while to think of this then my friend mentioned hockey and I was like, "WHOA BRILLIANT ZACH THANKS."

Zach is a straight, self-proclaimed "bro" who spends much of his afternoons at the gym. He's got his sweet moments and can be a gentle giant but then he farts and those thoughts go straight out the window.

Thanks, Zach 3

So yes. I spent a bit of time looking up the 1998 Winter Olympics Men's Ice Hockey. :)