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valmoratwo short snippets.
Title: In Need of Vacation
Fandom: Hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Finland/Sweden
Disclaimer: not mine.
Notes: originally posted in this thread as a response to this request and indexed here.
Summary: IKEA has a 50% off sale. Sweden has been enlisted, and desires to escape. (slight crack)
“Oh!” Finland said, a little cry of amusement, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Is it that time of year again?”
Sweden grunted affirmatively and took the thermos from Finland’s outstretched hands, taking a drag of the coffee inside. Black, bitter, hot. He glanced down, saw that even before he’d started drinking that it hadn’t been all the way full, and wondered if the sweetness he tasted was from Finland’s lips pressed against the metal, stealing sips while on his way there.
Finland suggested, “Maybe after this we’ll be able to empty out the guest room and Estonia can come visit, or maybe Norway.”
“Could go to th’house in America,” Sweden muttered. After three days of being ogled by women and not a few men, he was ready to retreat someplace where he’d be able to hide for a few weeks, maybe spend some alone time with his tools and his wife. And America was dumb enough not to notice when another nation dropped by – it wasn’t like there weren’t Swedes, or Finns, in the Midwest. Two more wouldn’t be remarkable.
“I’d like that,” Finland said. “What about Iowa? I wouldn’t mind a second honeymoon, you know, and although Spain was lovely -”
Sweden choked, spraying coffee all over himself, his wife, and the beautiful handmade table between them in the store parking lot.
Due to bad weather in Chicago, their plane flight is rerouted to St. Louis, whereupon the weather in Iowa is declared impassible, leaving them stranded in Lambert Airport for the next two days.
“I wonder if America’s in town,” Finland muses, tapping his foot, adjusting the biathlon-gun case slung over his back. “Do you have a phone number for him? For that matter, do I?”
Sweden holds out his PDA. Finland turns it on, scribbles something using the stylus, then lights up a little. “I’ll go find a pay phone.”
“You have change?”
“I got some before we left, yeah.”
Finland’s gone for a few minutes while Sweden watches their two suitcases and bag of skis. Mostly he reads the book he brought and glances up over his glasses at anyone who passes too close. They usually move aside when he does.
Finland comes back shaking his head and hands Sweden back his PDA. “He says he’s in town for the Veiled Prophet Ball, whatever that might be, but can’t offer us a space since his apartment’s in the capital and he doesn’t want to share Missouri’s couch.”
Sweden grunts noncommittally.
“Didn’t think so. Let’s go find a hotel.”
They both speak excellent English, mostly out of historical necessity, so getting a room is no trouble, and the woman at the reservation desk doesn’t even blink when Sweden says they only need one bed. Finland smiles a little at that, and behind the barrier of the desk touches Sweden’s elbow. Sweden lets his arm drop from the counter, pretending to pay attention to what the woman is saying, and reaches to hold Finland’s hand momentarily, warm sticky fingers against his own.
Title: In Need of Vacation
Fandom: Hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Finland/Sweden
Disclaimer: not mine.
Notes: originally posted in this thread as a response to this request and indexed here.
Summary: IKEA has a 50% off sale. Sweden has been enlisted, and desires to escape. (slight crack)
“Oh!” Finland said, a little cry of amusement, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Is it that time of year again?”
Sweden grunted affirmatively and took the thermos from Finland’s outstretched hands, taking a drag of the coffee inside. Black, bitter, hot. He glanced down, saw that even before he’d started drinking that it hadn’t been all the way full, and wondered if the sweetness he tasted was from Finland’s lips pressed against the metal, stealing sips while on his way there.
Finland suggested, “Maybe after this we’ll be able to empty out the guest room and Estonia can come visit, or maybe Norway.”
“Could go to th’house in America,” Sweden muttered. After three days of being ogled by women and not a few men, he was ready to retreat someplace where he’d be able to hide for a few weeks, maybe spend some alone time with his tools and his wife. And America was dumb enough not to notice when another nation dropped by – it wasn’t like there weren’t Swedes, or Finns, in the Midwest. Two more wouldn’t be remarkable.
“I’d like that,” Finland said. “What about Iowa? I wouldn’t mind a second honeymoon, you know, and although Spain was lovely -”
Sweden choked, spraying coffee all over himself, his wife, and the beautiful handmade table between them in the store parking lot.
Due to bad weather in Chicago, their plane flight is rerouted to St. Louis, whereupon the weather in Iowa is declared impassible, leaving them stranded in Lambert Airport for the next two days.
“I wonder if America’s in town,” Finland muses, tapping his foot, adjusting the biathlon-gun case slung over his back. “Do you have a phone number for him? For that matter, do I?”
Sweden holds out his PDA. Finland turns it on, scribbles something using the stylus, then lights up a little. “I’ll go find a pay phone.”
“You have change?”
“I got some before we left, yeah.”
Finland’s gone for a few minutes while Sweden watches their two suitcases and bag of skis. Mostly he reads the book he brought and glances up over his glasses at anyone who passes too close. They usually move aside when he does.
Finland comes back shaking his head and hands Sweden back his PDA. “He says he’s in town for the Veiled Prophet Ball, whatever that might be, but can’t offer us a space since his apartment’s in the capital and he doesn’t want to share Missouri’s couch.”
Sweden grunts noncommittally.
“Didn’t think so. Let’s go find a hotel.”
They both speak excellent English, mostly out of historical necessity, so getting a room is no trouble, and the woman at the reservation desk doesn’t even blink when Sweden says they only need one bed. Finland smiles a little at that, and behind the barrier of the desk touches Sweden’s elbow. Sweden lets his arm drop from the counter, pretending to pay attention to what the woman is saying, and reaches to hold Finland’s hand momentarily, warm sticky fingers against his own.
