[Part 12][Threshold][fem!Sweden/fem!Finland][11/15]
anonymous
June 23 2010, 07:22:29 UTC
Helsinki, 2009
Finland really does enjoy watching Sweden in the depths of some crafting project. Not for the work so much as the woman herself, holding herself with the calm confidence of one whose skill is without question. It isn’t just that-her focused face, brows knit in concentration and mouth set in a steady line-is really terribly cute.
This all crosses her mind as Sweden leans over the armoire, some woodworking tool Finland couldn’t name for the life of her in hand. Even knowing how good the tall blonde is, she still finds herself impressed. The two-hundredth anniversary of the Finnish War is fast approaching, and the piece of furniture itself is only a year younger than it-a gift from Estonia when Finland had first become a part of Russia’s house. It’s true, there are some painful memories they both still associate with that time, but Sweden’s craftsman soul wouldn’t let her leave a good piece like the pine wardrobe not properly restored. Seeing as it had kept her belongings through so much, Finland couldn’t help but agree it would be a shame to let her friend’s gift fall into disrepair. So here they find themselves, in a rare moment of peace amidst the preparations Finland’s boss has been insistent about attending to.
Sweden is finished doing….whatever on earth the tool was intended for, and is now fidgeting experimentally with the pine backing. Judging from the pots of varnish and brushes nearby, she’s just checking to make sure everything else is finished before going on to that final step. Finland keeps watching, admiring the steady motion of the Swede’s hands. Then Sweden bends over to pick up some other object Finland can’t name, and she finds her gaze drifting…lower…
She really needs to find out where Sweden got those jeans. H & M, probably. Well, the place doesn’t matter to Finland so much as the perfect way they mold to Sve’s extremely nice backside. And really, she’s not a pervert for noticing no matter what Denmark (...And England. And Hungary. And France, especially) keep accusing her of being. It shouldn’t even count if all her attention is only directed at one person. Besides, to not properly appreciate something so flawless would be a crime. Never mind that if she caught anyone else doing some ‘appreciating’ Sweden’s way, they’d find themselves at the barrel-end of her favorite hunting rifle. But yes, when she’s doing the looking, it’s alright.
Which is the only reason she’s disappointed when Sweden straightens up abruptly, frowning at the antique before her. Finland stops her staring to glance at the armoire herself, wondering what made the other woman react like that.
“Sve? Is something wrong?” Finland asks, walking to stand beside her partner.
She circles the piece, not sure what could possibly be the problem-it looks perfectly fine to her eyes. Sweden doesn’t respond for a second, pulling her glasses off and wiping them before setting the frames back on her nose.
“…’s f’lse,” Sweden says, rapping the wood lightly. “P’rt of t’back.”
“Ah?” Finland tilts her head-she doesn’t recall anything like that, but then she’s had it in storage since 1917. With everything else that had been going on, she hadn’t really thought about it. That there was some hiding spot that slipped her mind wouldn’t be surprising.
“Y’h…lesse…” Sweden crouches down, frowning so intensely at the front drawers Finland kind of wants to cringe on their behalf. “S’me sort of air-m’chan’sm…” She pulls at the top and bottom drawers simultaneously, ignoring the middle one, before pushing them shut again. As if by magic, a second later a panel pops out of the back, hidden so cleverly in the woodwork Finland doubts she could have spotted it even after having it pointed out to her.
Finland really does enjoy watching Sweden in the depths of some crafting project. Not for the work so much as the woman herself, holding herself with the calm confidence of one whose skill is without question. It isn’t just that-her focused face, brows knit in concentration and mouth set in a steady line-is really terribly cute.
This all crosses her mind as Sweden leans over the armoire, some woodworking tool Finland couldn’t name for the life of her in hand. Even knowing how good the tall blonde is, she still finds herself impressed. The two-hundredth anniversary of the Finnish War is fast approaching, and the piece of furniture itself is only a year younger than it-a gift from Estonia when Finland had first become a part of Russia’s house. It’s true, there are some painful memories they both still associate with that time, but Sweden’s craftsman soul wouldn’t let her leave a good piece like the pine wardrobe not properly restored. Seeing as it had kept her belongings through so much, Finland couldn’t help but agree it would be a shame to let her friend’s gift fall into disrepair. So here they find themselves, in a rare moment of peace amidst the preparations Finland’s boss has been insistent about attending to.
Sweden is finished doing….whatever on earth the tool was intended for, and is now fidgeting experimentally with the pine backing. Judging from the pots of varnish and brushes nearby, she’s just checking to make sure everything else is finished before going on to that final step. Finland keeps watching, admiring the steady motion of the Swede’s hands. Then Sweden bends over to pick up some other object Finland can’t name, and she finds her gaze drifting…lower…
She really needs to find out where Sweden got those jeans. H & M, probably. Well, the place doesn’t matter to Finland so much as the perfect way they mold to Sve’s extremely nice backside. And really, she’s not a pervert for noticing no matter what Denmark (...And England. And Hungary. And France, especially) keep accusing her of being. It shouldn’t even count if all her attention is only directed at one person. Besides, to not properly appreciate something so flawless would be a crime. Never mind that if she caught anyone else doing some ‘appreciating’ Sweden’s way, they’d find themselves at the barrel-end of her favorite hunting rifle. But yes, when she’s doing the looking, it’s alright.
Which is the only reason she’s disappointed when Sweden straightens up abruptly, frowning at the antique before her. Finland stops her staring to glance at the armoire herself, wondering what made the other woman react like that.
“Sve? Is something wrong?” Finland asks, walking to stand beside her partner.
She circles the piece, not sure what could possibly be the problem-it looks perfectly fine to her eyes. Sweden doesn’t respond for a second, pulling her glasses off and wiping them before setting the frames back on her nose.
“…’s f’lse,” Sweden says, rapping the wood lightly. “P’rt of t’back.”
“Ah?” Finland tilts her head-she doesn’t recall anything like that, but then she’s had it in storage since 1917. With everything else that had been going on, she hadn’t really thought about it. That there was some hiding spot that slipped her mind wouldn’t be surprising.
“Y’h…lesse…” Sweden crouches down, frowning so intensely at the front drawers Finland kind of wants to cringe on their behalf. “S’me sort of air-m’chan’sm…” She pulls at the top and bottom drawers simultaneously, ignoring the middle one, before pushing them shut again. As if by magic, a second later a panel pops out of the back, hidden so cleverly in the woodwork Finland doubts she could have spotted it even after having it pointed out to her.
Reply
Leave a comment