[Fic] Running Away With Mr. Sweden (Again) - Pt. 2
Title: Running Away With Mr. Sweden (Again) - Pt. 2
Characters/Pairings: Sweden/Finland, Denmark, Norway, and a bunch of others will show up eventually
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Finland's house. You'll see what I mean.
Summary: Sweden and Finland run away and pretend to be humans for a while. It appears to be a simple affair--but things are rarely ever simple for nations.
Notes: Yeah, I'm really not sure if this story is presenting my plot in a coherent manner.
“Sve! Fin!”
“You can stop yelling now,” Norway says as he runs his finger over the kitchen table. It’s simple and sturdy, probably made by Sweden himself, just like everything else in his home. Norway’s finger comes away covered in a fine layer of grey dust. “They’re obviously not here. Probably haven’t been for a while.”
Denmark sighs and leans against the wall. “Time to head over to Finland’s place, then?” Norway nods, and Denmark groans slightly. “I hardly envisioned using our day off to search through houses.”
“Just shut up and come along, will you?”
*
Tensions Increase Between Finland and Belarus
The Finnish diplomat to Belarus was recalled yesterday, adding pressure to and underscoring the already strained relations between the two countries.
Officials in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs did not appear surprised. “Personally, I think this was bound to happen sooner or later,” one stated, speaking on the condition of anonymity.
The tensions between the two nations began when the Belarusian one-hit-wonder pop star, Natalya Vinnikova, was discovered dead of a gunshot wound in her Helsinki hotel room the day before her Finland concert was to occur, in what appeared to be a suicide. Belarusian fans were not satisfied with the explanation, however, suspecting foul play.
Matters were further exacerbated only two days later, when the Minister of Finance’s Secretary of State Ansa Helsingius, who was under scrutiny for possible corruption, disappeared from Finland, only to turn up in Belarus. The Belarusian government refused to extradite Helsingius.
All the recent occurrences have played out against a backdrop of ethnic tensions as Neste Oil, Finland’s sole oil refining company, is building a new refinery in the recently discovered oil fields in Belarus. Finns make up over 80% of the-
“Hey Sve, let’s go for a picnic!” Finland sidles up beside Sweden, pulling the paper out of his hands and setting it aside onto the kitchen counter.
Sweden glances out the window as he sips his coffee. It is, by all appearances, the perfect spring day. The sun streams down uninhibited by any clouds, and the small new leaves on the trees rustle slightly in the occasional breeze. It would be a shame to waste it.
Sweden glances back at the paper for a moment, then turns to smile at Finland. “If ya want,” he says. “Långholmen’s lovely this time of year.” The smile soon disappears, though, replaced by his customary glare. “I hope-” he pauses, not quite sure exactly what he wants to say. “I hope we have a good day.”
Finland laughs, throwing his arms around Sweden for a moment before bursting into action, bustling around the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Sve! We’ll be careful. Nothing will go wrong. Of course we’ll have a good day!” Within minutes Finland has a basket packed. “Grab a blanket and let’s go!”
*
“Denmark, why don’t you stop knocking and just see if you can open the door.”
Denmark gives Finland’s door one last, firm knock (though a punch is perhaps a better descriptive term). It’s something of a miracle that the it’s still standing; usually doors are no match for five minutes of Denmark. “It’s locked.”
Norway pushes Denmark out of the way and fiddles with the lock. Moments later there’s a loud click from the doorknob. Denmark gapes. “How’d you do that?”
“Magic.”
“Really?”
“…Just open the door.”
Denmark complies. As the door swings open, Norway punches him in the side, hard enough to make him stagger aside a few steps.
“The hell, Norge, what-”
BANG.
A bullet rips between the two nations, passing close enough to Denmark’s head that his hair gets stirred slightly by the air displaced. “Holy fuck!”
“That’s what.” Norway looks completely unshaken. “I think that should be it. Let’s go inside.”
“Damn, I knew Finland’s been dealing with some crap since he came out,” Denmark says as he walks through the door, “but this seems a bit out of the pale, even for-shit!”
Denmark’s foot, and the rug where he placed it, goes through the floor. He knocks a vase off its stand as he flails for balance. It’s no use-the hole is quite large, the carpet’s trapped his foot, and he’s about to fall through. Norway, who’s gone ahead of him, turns around and reaches towards him. Denmark grabs at his hand-
-and the next thing he knows, they’re both tangled in carpet and each other as they land none too gently on some solid surface.
“Idiot,” Norway says when he finally extracts himself from the rug and from Denmark. They’re in a dark room of sorts. The only light comes from the hole in the ceiling that they fell through. “Now we’re both stuck down here.” He turns away from the other nation and closes his eyes.
“Sorry, Norge.” Denmark glances up at the ceiling. He judges the walls to be just over double his height. “Hey, wanna give me a boost, and once I’m out I can look for something to haul you out with?”
“Quiet. I’m trying to get us out of here.”
“How is sleeping going to help?”
“Just shut up already.”
After a few centuries of sharing a house with Norway, Denmark knows when he’s lost an argument. So he shuts his mouth and waits.
About a minute elapses in silence, and then suddenly the light from the ceiling disappears. The next moment, Denmark feels something closing around him. Something warm, a bit oily, and a bit squishy.
“Fuck! What is this!” He pushes against the thing, whatever it is, to no avail.
“Stop struggling, he’s getting us out of here.”
“He?” Denmark feels himself being lifted. Shortly thereafter the thing opens and light streams into his eyes as he’s dumped unceremoniously on the ground. When his eyes finally adjust, he finds a giant green being staring down at him.
“Thanks, Thiazi,” Norway says, nodding to the being. The giant salutes and vanishes.
“…You’re kind of scary, Norge.”
“Thanks.”
*
"You are the nation of Finland, are you not?"
"Yes, I am, miss. What did you want to discuss, something about the Neste refinery-”
"I actually didn’t. But you. You're unnatural. Immortal."
"I'm sorry, I don't know how I'm immortal. I just am. And even if I knew, I wouldn't tell-it’s hardly pleasant living for so long-”
"I don't care why. I just know you are. And that's unnatural. An insult to God!"
A pause. There's the sound of scuffling feet. "Please, Natalya, put down the knife. I don't want to harm you."
"No."
Dialogue gives way to the metallic sound of knives clashing. Sweden's heard enough. He plucks the transmitter out of his ear and races out of his room-
"What are you thinking about?" Finland's voice jars Sweden out of his thoughts.
"Hm? Oh, nothing," Sweden says. He realizes he hasn't touched his food in a while and hurries to take a bite. "Lovely day today."
“Yes, yes it is,” Finland replies. The two eat in silence after that, watching others enjoying the fine weather. Several other families are having picnics as well. A boy teaches his girlfriend how to toss a Frisbee properly a few feet away from them. A couple walks down the nearby path with a little girl and a small dog in tow, and for a moment both nations are lost in their thoughts as they watch the family pass by.
Finland breaks the silence first. “I’m sure Sealand and Hanatamago are doing just fine. Probably both doing their best to drive England crazy.” More softly, he adds, “it’s lucky they were visiting England, isn’t it?”
"Mm." Sweden nods distractedly, watching the girl pluck a flower and place it in the dog's collar. It's lucky Sealand isn't involved in the mess he and Finland have gotten themselves into, yes, but he does wish that if he's pretending to be human, he could experience it with his whole family.
They finish eating and throw away their trash, and then simply lounge around on the grass. Finland sighs contentedly and lies down, resting his head in Sweden's lap. "It feels odd, not having work to do all the time," he says.
Sweden gently strokes Finland's hair. "Are ya happy?"
Finland pauses perhaps just a moment too long before answering. "Of course I'm happy, Sve. I'm with you."
"Ya miss being in Finland."
"...yes, I do. But I can't go back right now. The others'll be looking for me there." Finland reaches up to where Sweden is still stroking his hair, pulling Sweden's arm to rest on his chest.
"If ya'd just let me--"
"I won't. It wasn't your fault. You don't deserve Belarus's rage any more than I do." Finland sits up. "Let's talk about something else, alright?"
"Hm."
"Hey, look, daisies! Make me a daisy chain, Sve, please?"
*
Several booby traps later, including the classic water-bucket-over-the-door (which was actually chunk of ice, water, and bucket rather than just water) and an oiled floor (“Hey, Norge, why are you dancing?”), Denmark is more than ready to concede defeat.
Norway, though, is determined to search one more area. “Sve’s workshop is practically sacred to him,” he says, stepping outside.
They never get that far. To reach the workshop they have to cross the garden. Unfortunately for them, the garden is not only home to the seas of colorful spring flowers, but also a flock of swans. More unfortunately, they are nesting swans. Angry-to-be-disturbed-from-nesting swans. Most unfortunately, the swans have vicious aim with their beaks. And when one nearly unmans Denmark with a well-aimed peck, he decides enough is enough. He grabs Norway’s hand and runs off the property as fast as he can.
Denmark takes inventory of their condition. They’re both quite a bit worse for wear. Denmark himself is still a bit damp from the ice bucket, and he’s covered with feathers and dust. Norway’s clothes are covered with oil as well as feathers.
“Well, at least our day wasn’t completely wasted,” the stoic nation says, waving a slip of paper.
“It was your idea…wait, where’d you get that from?”
“It was on the table at Sweden’s house.” Norway shrugs a little. “Same for at Finland’s house.” He holds up another slip of paper, almost identical to the first except a little flimsier and greyer.
“What? You mean we didn’t have to set off all those traps? You mean we didn’t even need to have gone to Finland’s house in the first place?”
Norway gives Denmark a withering glance. “It doesn’t hurt to look for clues. We still don’t know where they are.”
“What’s the note say, anyway?”
Norway hands the notes over. “Den, Nor, Island-we are fine. Don’t come after us, it’s not safe. All of us nations are in danger. Love, Sweden and Finland,” Denmark reads. “Hey Norge, if they don’t want us to look for them, why are we trying?”
“Because they’re in trouble.” Norway absently strokes at his floating curl. “And we agreed, the five of us, that we’d help each other. After the war. That we wouldn't ever abandon each other again.”
For once, Denmark is silent. He has no answer to that.
*
It happens on their way home.
Sweden and Finland have just finished watching the sunset, something they haven’t done together for far too long. There weren’t any clouds in the sky for the sun to dye, but the sun itself was a beautiful shade of red as it slipped behind the horizon. They finish packing up and walk through the streets of Stockholm through the final fading light of the day.
"Hey, you're Finland, aren't you?"
The statement nearly makes both of them stop dead. Only centuries' worth of training in self-preservation prevents them from freezing and giving themselves away immediately.
Sweden slows down, turning towards where the question came from, and Finland follows suit. A young man, perhaps 20 years old or so, turns out to be the source. Sweden feels a vague prickle of connection the instant he sees the man. Definitely one of his citizens. Skit, Sweden thinks as he quickly looks down a little to avoid eye contact. That makes things trickier. Citizens have a tendency to sense there's something out of the ordinary when they meet their own nation.
"Finland?" Sweden asks before the silence can stretch for too long. "Ya mean Finnish? I'm actually Swedish."
"No, I meant your friend! Him," the boy says, pointing at Finland. He looks Finland in the eye and grins. "You look just like the guy who came forward as the embodiment of the nation of Finland!"
Before Finland can reply, Sweden nudges him just slightly. "He is Finnish," Sweden says. "Can tell 'cause he never says anything. Not the nation though, far as I know." Sweden chuckles slightly, glancing at Finland. "Yer not, are ya?"
Finland rolls his eyes and shakes his head, before grabbing Sweden's arm and tugging him to the side, as if urging him to keep moving. Sweden turns towards his citizen and shrugs. "Gotta go, nice talking to ya." He turns away, and Finland practically drags him across the street.
"That was close," Finland says to Sweden when they're a safe distance away.
"Mm," Sweden grunts in affirmation. He's definitely exceeded his word quota for the day.
Meanwhile, the young man watches them walk off, then pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. "Hello? It's me. He's here, I just saw him...yes, it's definitely him. He kept real quiet, but he looks exactly like the picture. And there's a guy with him who's unnatural too. I could feel it when he looked at me. Yeah, they're in Stockholm--"
Characters/Pairings: Sweden/Finland, Denmark, Norway, and a bunch of others will show up eventually
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Finland's house. You'll see what I mean.
Summary: Sweden and Finland run away and pretend to be humans for a while. It appears to be a simple affair--but things are rarely ever simple for nations.
Notes: Yeah, I'm really not sure if this story is presenting my plot in a coherent manner.
“Sve! Fin!”
“You can stop yelling now,” Norway says as he runs his finger over the kitchen table. It’s simple and sturdy, probably made by Sweden himself, just like everything else in his home. Norway’s finger comes away covered in a fine layer of grey dust. “They’re obviously not here. Probably haven’t been for a while.”
Denmark sighs and leans against the wall. “Time to head over to Finland’s place, then?” Norway nods, and Denmark groans slightly. “I hardly envisioned using our day off to search through houses.”
“Just shut up and come along, will you?”
*
Tensions Increase Between Finland and Belarus
The Finnish diplomat to Belarus was recalled yesterday, adding pressure to and underscoring the already strained relations between the two countries.
Officials in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs did not appear surprised. “Personally, I think this was bound to happen sooner or later,” one stated, speaking on the condition of anonymity.
The tensions between the two nations began when the Belarusian one-hit-wonder pop star, Natalya Vinnikova, was discovered dead of a gunshot wound in her Helsinki hotel room the day before her Finland concert was to occur, in what appeared to be a suicide. Belarusian fans were not satisfied with the explanation, however, suspecting foul play.
Matters were further exacerbated only two days later, when the Minister of Finance’s Secretary of State Ansa Helsingius, who was under scrutiny for possible corruption, disappeared from Finland, only to turn up in Belarus. The Belarusian government refused to extradite Helsingius.
All the recent occurrences have played out against a backdrop of ethnic tensions as Neste Oil, Finland’s sole oil refining company, is building a new refinery in the recently discovered oil fields in Belarus. Finns make up over 80% of the-
“Hey Sve, let’s go for a picnic!” Finland sidles up beside Sweden, pulling the paper out of his hands and setting it aside onto the kitchen counter.
Sweden glances out the window as he sips his coffee. It is, by all appearances, the perfect spring day. The sun streams down uninhibited by any clouds, and the small new leaves on the trees rustle slightly in the occasional breeze. It would be a shame to waste it.
Sweden glances back at the paper for a moment, then turns to smile at Finland. “If ya want,” he says. “Långholmen’s lovely this time of year.” The smile soon disappears, though, replaced by his customary glare. “I hope-” he pauses, not quite sure exactly what he wants to say. “I hope we have a good day.”
Finland laughs, throwing his arms around Sweden for a moment before bursting into action, bustling around the kitchen. “Don’t worry, Sve! We’ll be careful. Nothing will go wrong. Of course we’ll have a good day!” Within minutes Finland has a basket packed. “Grab a blanket and let’s go!”
*
“Denmark, why don’t you stop knocking and just see if you can open the door.”
Denmark gives Finland’s door one last, firm knock (though a punch is perhaps a better descriptive term). It’s something of a miracle that the it’s still standing; usually doors are no match for five minutes of Denmark. “It’s locked.”
Norway pushes Denmark out of the way and fiddles with the lock. Moments later there’s a loud click from the doorknob. Denmark gapes. “How’d you do that?”
“Magic.”
“Really?”
“…Just open the door.”
Denmark complies. As the door swings open, Norway punches him in the side, hard enough to make him stagger aside a few steps.
“The hell, Norge, what-”
BANG.
A bullet rips between the two nations, passing close enough to Denmark’s head that his hair gets stirred slightly by the air displaced. “Holy fuck!”
“That’s what.” Norway looks completely unshaken. “I think that should be it. Let’s go inside.”
“Damn, I knew Finland’s been dealing with some crap since he came out,” Denmark says as he walks through the door, “but this seems a bit out of the pale, even for-shit!”
Denmark’s foot, and the rug where he placed it, goes through the floor. He knocks a vase off its stand as he flails for balance. It’s no use-the hole is quite large, the carpet’s trapped his foot, and he’s about to fall through. Norway, who’s gone ahead of him, turns around and reaches towards him. Denmark grabs at his hand-
-and the next thing he knows, they’re both tangled in carpet and each other as they land none too gently on some solid surface.
“Idiot,” Norway says when he finally extracts himself from the rug and from Denmark. They’re in a dark room of sorts. The only light comes from the hole in the ceiling that they fell through. “Now we’re both stuck down here.” He turns away from the other nation and closes his eyes.
“Sorry, Norge.” Denmark glances up at the ceiling. He judges the walls to be just over double his height. “Hey, wanna give me a boost, and once I’m out I can look for something to haul you out with?”
“Quiet. I’m trying to get us out of here.”
“How is sleeping going to help?”
“Just shut up already.”
After a few centuries of sharing a house with Norway, Denmark knows when he’s lost an argument. So he shuts his mouth and waits.
About a minute elapses in silence, and then suddenly the light from the ceiling disappears. The next moment, Denmark feels something closing around him. Something warm, a bit oily, and a bit squishy.
“Fuck! What is this!” He pushes against the thing, whatever it is, to no avail.
“Stop struggling, he’s getting us out of here.”
“He?” Denmark feels himself being lifted. Shortly thereafter the thing opens and light streams into his eyes as he’s dumped unceremoniously on the ground. When his eyes finally adjust, he finds a giant green being staring down at him.
“Thanks, Thiazi,” Norway says, nodding to the being. The giant salutes and vanishes.
“…You’re kind of scary, Norge.”
“Thanks.”
*
"You are the nation of Finland, are you not?"
"Yes, I am, miss. What did you want to discuss, something about the Neste refinery-”
"I actually didn’t. But you. You're unnatural. Immortal."
"I'm sorry, I don't know how I'm immortal. I just am. And even if I knew, I wouldn't tell-it’s hardly pleasant living for so long-”
"I don't care why. I just know you are. And that's unnatural. An insult to God!"
A pause. There's the sound of scuffling feet. "Please, Natalya, put down the knife. I don't want to harm you."
"No."
Dialogue gives way to the metallic sound of knives clashing. Sweden's heard enough. He plucks the transmitter out of his ear and races out of his room-
"What are you thinking about?" Finland's voice jars Sweden out of his thoughts.
"Hm? Oh, nothing," Sweden says. He realizes he hasn't touched his food in a while and hurries to take a bite. "Lovely day today."
“Yes, yes it is,” Finland replies. The two eat in silence after that, watching others enjoying the fine weather. Several other families are having picnics as well. A boy teaches his girlfriend how to toss a Frisbee properly a few feet away from them. A couple walks down the nearby path with a little girl and a small dog in tow, and for a moment both nations are lost in their thoughts as they watch the family pass by.
Finland breaks the silence first. “I’m sure Sealand and Hanatamago are doing just fine. Probably both doing their best to drive England crazy.” More softly, he adds, “it’s lucky they were visiting England, isn’t it?”
"Mm." Sweden nods distractedly, watching the girl pluck a flower and place it in the dog's collar. It's lucky Sealand isn't involved in the mess he and Finland have gotten themselves into, yes, but he does wish that if he's pretending to be human, he could experience it with his whole family.
They finish eating and throw away their trash, and then simply lounge around on the grass. Finland sighs contentedly and lies down, resting his head in Sweden's lap. "It feels odd, not having work to do all the time," he says.
Sweden gently strokes Finland's hair. "Are ya happy?"
Finland pauses perhaps just a moment too long before answering. "Of course I'm happy, Sve. I'm with you."
"Ya miss being in Finland."
"...yes, I do. But I can't go back right now. The others'll be looking for me there." Finland reaches up to where Sweden is still stroking his hair, pulling Sweden's arm to rest on his chest.
"If ya'd just let me--"
"I won't. It wasn't your fault. You don't deserve Belarus's rage any more than I do." Finland sits up. "Let's talk about something else, alright?"
"Hm."
"Hey, look, daisies! Make me a daisy chain, Sve, please?"
*
Several booby traps later, including the classic water-bucket-over-the-door (which was actually chunk of ice, water, and bucket rather than just water) and an oiled floor (“Hey, Norge, why are you dancing?”), Denmark is more than ready to concede defeat.
Norway, though, is determined to search one more area. “Sve’s workshop is practically sacred to him,” he says, stepping outside.
They never get that far. To reach the workshop they have to cross the garden. Unfortunately for them, the garden is not only home to the seas of colorful spring flowers, but also a flock of swans. More unfortunately, they are nesting swans. Angry-to-be-disturbed-from-nesting swans. Most unfortunately, the swans have vicious aim with their beaks. And when one nearly unmans Denmark with a well-aimed peck, he decides enough is enough. He grabs Norway’s hand and runs off the property as fast as he can.
Denmark takes inventory of their condition. They’re both quite a bit worse for wear. Denmark himself is still a bit damp from the ice bucket, and he’s covered with feathers and dust. Norway’s clothes are covered with oil as well as feathers.
“Well, at least our day wasn’t completely wasted,” the stoic nation says, waving a slip of paper.
“It was your idea…wait, where’d you get that from?”
“It was on the table at Sweden’s house.” Norway shrugs a little. “Same for at Finland’s house.” He holds up another slip of paper, almost identical to the first except a little flimsier and greyer.
“What? You mean we didn’t have to set off all those traps? You mean we didn’t even need to have gone to Finland’s house in the first place?”
Norway gives Denmark a withering glance. “It doesn’t hurt to look for clues. We still don’t know where they are.”
“What’s the note say, anyway?”
Norway hands the notes over. “Den, Nor, Island-we are fine. Don’t come after us, it’s not safe. All of us nations are in danger. Love, Sweden and Finland,” Denmark reads. “Hey Norge, if they don’t want us to look for them, why are we trying?”
“Because they’re in trouble.” Norway absently strokes at his floating curl. “And we agreed, the five of us, that we’d help each other. After the war. That we wouldn't ever abandon each other again.”
For once, Denmark is silent. He has no answer to that.
*
It happens on their way home.
Sweden and Finland have just finished watching the sunset, something they haven’t done together for far too long. There weren’t any clouds in the sky for the sun to dye, but the sun itself was a beautiful shade of red as it slipped behind the horizon. They finish packing up and walk through the streets of Stockholm through the final fading light of the day.
"Hey, you're Finland, aren't you?"
The statement nearly makes both of them stop dead. Only centuries' worth of training in self-preservation prevents them from freezing and giving themselves away immediately.
Sweden slows down, turning towards where the question came from, and Finland follows suit. A young man, perhaps 20 years old or so, turns out to be the source. Sweden feels a vague prickle of connection the instant he sees the man. Definitely one of his citizens. Skit, Sweden thinks as he quickly looks down a little to avoid eye contact. That makes things trickier. Citizens have a tendency to sense there's something out of the ordinary when they meet their own nation.
"Finland?" Sweden asks before the silence can stretch for too long. "Ya mean Finnish? I'm actually Swedish."
"No, I meant your friend! Him," the boy says, pointing at Finland. He looks Finland in the eye and grins. "You look just like the guy who came forward as the embodiment of the nation of Finland!"
Before Finland can reply, Sweden nudges him just slightly. "He is Finnish," Sweden says. "Can tell 'cause he never says anything. Not the nation though, far as I know." Sweden chuckles slightly, glancing at Finland. "Yer not, are ya?"
Finland rolls his eyes and shakes his head, before grabbing Sweden's arm and tugging him to the side, as if urging him to keep moving. Sweden turns towards his citizen and shrugs. "Gotta go, nice talking to ya." He turns away, and Finland practically drags him across the street.
"That was close," Finland says to Sweden when they're a safe distance away.
"Mm," Sweden grunts in affirmation. He's definitely exceeded his word quota for the day.
Meanwhile, the young man watches them walk off, then pulls out his cell phone and dials a number. "Hello? It's me. He's here, I just saw him...yes, it's definitely him. He kept real quiet, but he looks exactly like the picture. And there's a guy with him who's unnatural too. I could feel it when he looked at me. Yeah, they're in Stockholm--"