In My Life [Sweden/Finland, oneshot]
anonymous
March 10 2011, 19:43:22 UTC
In My Life (There Are Places I Remember)
Geh, shortfic is short. But, um, here? (I think I'm way too fond of this song for my own good. /wry)
"It's a good home," Finland said, when the last nail had been driven in and Sweden'd stepped back with a satisfied nod.
Tomorrow would be for painting, the wiring and insulation having already been completed. No doubt this cottage would last little longer than its predecessors; in his lifetime, he and Sweden had shared many centuries and many more roofs, shelters built of wood or brick or stone. Not all of them had been places they could call their own either, and some of them had been less 'home' and more 'cage' until he'd been scrabbling at the walls just to keep himself together.
(There were still days when Swedish would stick in his throat, the language too familiar to let out. He never mentioned it to Sweden, but somehow, on those days, he'd end up finding candy in his pockets, an extra treat by his plate.)
Well, they had learned to live with each other, he and Sweden had. They weren't building houses together because they had to any more.
Over the years he had even gotten used to the quiet, for nothing could compare to those early, awful days. Ah, they'd been barely a head taller than knee-height then, and it'd been a long time before Sweden ever looked less frightening. In hindsight, it was a little amusing to think about the very first time Sweden had barged into his home and settled there. He wouldn't be able to find the place on a map these days, but the memories were still clear as water.
They hadn't even known how to speak to each other then, in their first meetings, and Finland suspected they only ever picked up each other's language by osmosis and the fact he'd talk into that awkward silence day in and day out.
Denmark's home had almost been a welcome change, if just because he wasn't the only one filling the air any more. (He didn't want to say he missed it, but he did a little. Not as a nation but as Tino Väinämöinen, for whom it'd been nice to have a family around.) Even in Russia's house, he'd had his friends to keep him company, and Russia hadn't turned an eye to him all that often...
Ah, he'd drifted off! His eyes darted to Sweden, who was just standing there staring at him. Even when Sweden had been caught looking, the man didn't turn away, and Finland found himself flushing instead. "Gyah! W-we should carry in the mattresses now! Aha... ha...."
Some things, he thought beneath the dull roar of his pounding heart, he'd yet to get used to.
...
"I'll make y' a fam'ly," muttered Sweden that night.
Finland, who had turned to fuss with the bedding, glanced back with a quizzical look. "Did you say something, Sve?"
"Mmn." He shook his head, a negative. His palms sweat at the thought of repeating his declaration.
But of all these friends and lovers There is no one compares with you And these memories lose their meaning When I think of love as something new
Years later, Finland would find a wobbling delivery box on their doorstep, that held a little boy with a very big dream.
("You can't just buy children off the internet!"
A critical glance. "Looks like 'e arrived okay."
"That's not- never mind..."
Sweden shrugged. His wife could be funny sometimes.)
Re: In My Life [Sweden/Finland, oneshot]
anonymous
March 11 2011, 12:48:54 UTC
I nearly started to cry when I read this ;__; So sweet and funny and oh, just... lovely <3 You portray these two character so well and they are very much alike the way that I think about Sve and Finland. And the song is just <3 Thank you AuthorAnon, you made me really happy by writing this!
Re: In My Life [Sweden/Finland, oneshot]
anonymous
March 12 2011, 10:27:04 UTC
a;sldkfjk oh my gods, thank you for reading and reviewing it! I- I am glad you thought Sweden and Finland were in character; to be honest, I was worried they wouldn't be. [does not write them often] Especially Finland's thought processes, that they'd be too clunky, so I'm glad you enjoyed it. ♥
Geh, shortfic is short. But, um, here? (I think I'm way too fond of this song for my own good. /wry)
"It's a good home," Finland said, when the last nail had been driven in and Sweden'd stepped back with a satisfied nod.
Tomorrow would be for painting, the wiring and insulation having already been completed. No doubt this cottage would last little longer than its predecessors; in his lifetime, he and Sweden had shared many centuries and many more roofs, shelters built of wood or brick or stone. Not all of them had been places they could call their own either, and some of them had been less 'home' and more 'cage' until he'd been scrabbling at the walls just to keep himself together.
(There were still days when Swedish would stick in his throat, the language too familiar to let out. He never mentioned it to Sweden, but somehow, on those days, he'd end up finding candy in his pockets, an extra treat by his plate.)
Well, they had learned to live with each other, he and Sweden had. They weren't building houses together because they had to any more.
Over the years he had even gotten used to the quiet, for nothing could compare to those early, awful days. Ah, they'd been barely a head taller than knee-height then, and it'd been a long time before Sweden ever looked less frightening. In hindsight, it was a little amusing to think about the very first time Sweden had barged into his home and settled there. He wouldn't be able to find the place on a map these days, but the memories were still clear as water.
They hadn't even known how to speak to each other then, in their first meetings, and Finland suspected they only ever picked up each other's language by osmosis and the fact he'd talk into that awkward silence day in and day out.
Denmark's home had almost been a welcome change, if just because he wasn't the only one filling the air any more. (He didn't want to say he missed it, but he did a little. Not as a nation but as Tino Väinämöinen, for whom it'd been nice to have a family around.) Even in Russia's house, he'd had his friends to keep him company, and Russia hadn't turned an eye to him all that often...
Ah, he'd drifted off! His eyes darted to Sweden, who was just standing there staring at him. Even when Sweden had been caught looking, the man didn't turn away, and Finland found himself flushing instead. "Gyah! W-we should carry in the mattresses now! Aha... ha...."
Some things, he thought beneath the dull roar of his pounding heart, he'd yet to get used to.
...
"I'll make y' a fam'ly," muttered Sweden that night.
Finland, who had turned to fuss with the bedding, glanced back with a quizzical look. "Did you say something, Sve?"
"Mmn." He shook his head, a negative. His palms sweat at the thought of repeating his declaration.
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Years later, Finland would find a wobbling delivery box on their doorstep, that held a little boy with a very big dream.
("You can't just buy children off the internet!"
A critical glance. "Looks like 'e arrived okay."
"That's not- never mind..."
Sweden shrugged. His wife could be funny sometimes.)
End.
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