So it's Real...
The florescent green numerals flashed on the clock across the wall.
3:00 AM.
The Witching Hour.
Siguard had kept him company for a few hours during his time as a watchman, but the Norwegian couldn't stay awake any longer and had excused himself to bed about ten minutes earlier. Two more hours of watch. Alone.
Even if he wasn't open about it, and pretended not to be, Mads was in fact quite superstitious. It felt uncomfortable to be the only one awake during this dreaded hour. He probably wouldn't feel totally comfortable until the clock struck 4.
He was left alone in his own head. He was distracted by the sound from the TV for only a little while, and then he drew pictures on the window with his breath and finger... namely in big letters he wrote: "Clean Me Slut-Biscuits" as using vulgarity usually got things cleaned promptly. But even writing profanity on his host's window was entertaining only so long. He wondered if he had A.D.D too. This is when he took up staring at the sleeping figures.
Siguard was of course first. Mathias always marveled at how incredibly still the Norwegian could be, even in sleep. His breath was so light, in addition to looking so pale from the moon light coming in through the window that one might mistaken the still figure for a beautiful corpse. Only the gentle twitching of eyelashes betrayed the signs of life. Mads had perfected being quiet at night, knowing how light a sleeper his doe-eyes was. It was a miracle that he wasn't one to snore. It would have made their sharing a bed impossible.
Next his eyes wandered over to Ivan. Fat Ass. Even in sleep he looked like he could squeeze water out of a rock. There was nothing amazing about his sleep to the Dane. He looked like everyone else who slept.
Erik was curled up over top of one of the giant's arms. Mads had to admit, Erik sleeping was kind of precious looking. He looked like a fluffy white kitten. Normally Mads hated cats... which was fine because they hated him right back! But there was something to a sleeping kitten that the Dane found appealing. They weren't awake to realize he was there and get their freak on all over his face. (Mads' face was like an international target for kitty-claw assaults for some reason.) They looked peaceful, and right now Erik's face held the same countenance. It was like all the bad things never happened. He was safe and sound and comfortable. Mads found a little bit of pride in this. He'd look out for his brother in law.
His eyes may have stopped there (as they were the three directly in his line of vision) but a snore, and then a groan, from across the room drew his attention over there. That's right. Tino and the Svenk Trold. Berwald had suddenly released a snore, and it had startled a sleeping Tino, not enough to wake him up, but enough for it to effect his own dreams. The dreams that looked rather restless.
Sparing the window a passing glance (and admitting to himself that he needed to head to the bathroom because he really had to piss) he got up and headed to the bathroom. Tino and Berwald's bed would have been on the way, so he justified the check in.
What he saw made him flare a little. Berwald certainly had guts didn't he? It turned his stomach to imagine that they slept in a tangle of arms and legs, skin to skin, regularly. It rubbed abrasively against Mads perspective of Tino as a clean, untouchable... ... a perpetual 9 year old... He bit back the urge to physically separate them, and his face smoothed when Tino whimpered. His dreams weren't happy ones tonight.
Feeling bad for the Finn the Dane reached out a hand, intending to brush Tino's hair from his face in an act of comfort, but he was stopped with his hand still in the air with the soft sound of growling.
Berwald's little demon dog was perched right above Tino's head. Mads pulled back his hand and her face instantly snapped back into that of a doofy little puppy. Keeping his eye on the dog he reached for Tino again, only for the dog to start growling and showing her teeth at him before he could be within 5 inches of Tino. Mads played this game with the dog once or twice more before deciding that the little idiot was protecting Tino. "You're an asshole." He whispered to the dog. "I wouldn't hurt him." and with that he stalked into the bathroom to take care of his business.
On the way back out he spared the pair another passing glance. Tino seemed to have been soothed. Now the Finn had his face buried between the pillow and the crook of Berwald's neck, the Jotunn's arms up and wrapped around him. His breathing was softer and even. His bad dreams had been chased away.
Mads felt a pang of something, vibrating from the center of his chest to his stomach. It was real.
There was nothing manipulative in that hold. Nothing sexualized. It only was what it was. Berwald, even asleep, looking out for Tino in his moments of distress. It was real.
Tino wasn't nine years old. He was almost sixteen. And despite being so cute, and having a fondness for cute things, he was actually mature beyond his years. He was in fact old enough to be able to make decisions for himself.
Without thinking the Dane reached out to touch Tino again, but was brought back to reality by the little white devil on Tino's head. Right. Psycho dog.
He wandered back over to the chair and went back to staring out the window. His mind still wandering back to Tino.
Tino had been 9 when they had met. Siguard had been 11, and Mads 12. The Norwegian and Dane's relationship had finally moved past antagonism to friendship (though not yet romance) and Tino had been part of the deal. After all. Siguard and Tino had been friends since Siguard had been eight. Mads had quickly gotten attached to the soft, round little peep that was Tino.
Tino was bully food, more than he even knew. Tino believed that the bullying he recieved had stopped when he came to Hetalia Academy half way through 4th grade because he had lost so much weight playing hockey the season before. This was only partially true. After meeting Mads Tino had basically been marked under the Dane's protection. Being known as a bully (even if he really only had ever bullied Berwald and Siguard and had always been more of an emotional and psychological bully) earned Mads a certain kind of reputation. This reputation is what protected Tino. No one wanted to fuck with the Finn because they knew the Dane would be gunning for them if they did. It was hard for Mads to let go of that protective niche he had fallen into. That was Berwald's place now.
All the things Berwald SAID about loving Tino were proven sincere in that embrace. Mathias rarely believed what people had to SAY. Words were bullshit. And so when Berwald had been talking about loving Tino, the Dane had automatically become protective. He did not want to see Tino hurt in the deal. Because even if Berwald SAID that he loved the Finn, he could always end up proving by action that the tiny boy was nothing but a fetish or something.
Mathias only trusted actions. He was trapped in a physical world, as was evident by how difficult it was to reason with him with words alone. Mads had no reason to trust words. His parents SAID they'd be home for Christmas. His parents SAID that they would call him on his birthday. His parents SAID that they loved him... but where the rubber met the road actions spoke truer... Christmas came and DID his parents come home to spend it with him? No. His birthday would come and DID his phone ring? Not once... That one time... when he landed himself in the hospital... and it looked like he could have died... and he needed his family there to remind him that he was loved and had plenty of things to live for... DID they come home to visit him? Even once? No.
He couldn't count on just people's words. How could he feel comfortable with Tino doing so? You can say you love someone and then leave them to face their mortality alone. You can say you love someone but not once notice or worry about it when they say that they want to die. You can say you love someone, but then leave them alone heart broken. How could Mads trust that Berwald would be better to Tino than his own parents were to him?
But the Swede meant it, didn't he? He meant every one of those stupid words. Tino was loved. Tino was safe. ... And Mads had to accept it. He had to let it go. He had to let Tino be a grown up and be everything that came with the status... he couldn't interfer anymore.
This broke his heart, and he quickly mended it by reminding himself that he had another little brother now, Erik, who needed protecting too. Even if Tino didn't need him, Erik did. Erik was a family member he could claim a right to. Tino, he couldn't, but to Erik he could always justify their 'brother in law' relationship.
Now, just because he accepted Tino and Berwald's relationship, did not have to mean that he had to stop being an asshole to Berwald. It was the nature of their fremeny-ship. He decided he'd accept it. For Tino. Not for Berwald. The Svenk was still the Svenk Trold and was going to still get the ever living shit harassed out of him. This brought the Dane some comfort especially as he realized that the clock read 3:59.
3:00 AM.
The Witching Hour.
Siguard had kept him company for a few hours during his time as a watchman, but the Norwegian couldn't stay awake any longer and had excused himself to bed about ten minutes earlier. Two more hours of watch. Alone.
Even if he wasn't open about it, and pretended not to be, Mads was in fact quite superstitious. It felt uncomfortable to be the only one awake during this dreaded hour. He probably wouldn't feel totally comfortable until the clock struck 4.
He was left alone in his own head. He was distracted by the sound from the TV for only a little while, and then he drew pictures on the window with his breath and finger... namely in big letters he wrote: "Clean Me Slut-Biscuits" as using vulgarity usually got things cleaned promptly. But even writing profanity on his host's window was entertaining only so long. He wondered if he had A.D.D too. This is when he took up staring at the sleeping figures.
Siguard was of course first. Mathias always marveled at how incredibly still the Norwegian could be, even in sleep. His breath was so light, in addition to looking so pale from the moon light coming in through the window that one might mistaken the still figure for a beautiful corpse. Only the gentle twitching of eyelashes betrayed the signs of life. Mads had perfected being quiet at night, knowing how light a sleeper his doe-eyes was. It was a miracle that he wasn't one to snore. It would have made their sharing a bed impossible.
Next his eyes wandered over to Ivan. Fat Ass. Even in sleep he looked like he could squeeze water out of a rock. There was nothing amazing about his sleep to the Dane. He looked like everyone else who slept.
Erik was curled up over top of one of the giant's arms. Mads had to admit, Erik sleeping was kind of precious looking. He looked like a fluffy white kitten. Normally Mads hated cats... which was fine because they hated him right back! But there was something to a sleeping kitten that the Dane found appealing. They weren't awake to realize he was there and get their freak on all over his face. (Mads' face was like an international target for kitty-claw assaults for some reason.) They looked peaceful, and right now Erik's face held the same countenance. It was like all the bad things never happened. He was safe and sound and comfortable. Mads found a little bit of pride in this. He'd look out for his brother in law.
His eyes may have stopped there (as they were the three directly in his line of vision) but a snore, and then a groan, from across the room drew his attention over there. That's right. Tino and the Svenk Trold. Berwald had suddenly released a snore, and it had startled a sleeping Tino, not enough to wake him up, but enough for it to effect his own dreams. The dreams that looked rather restless.
Sparing the window a passing glance (and admitting to himself that he needed to head to the bathroom because he really had to piss) he got up and headed to the bathroom. Tino and Berwald's bed would have been on the way, so he justified the check in.
What he saw made him flare a little. Berwald certainly had guts didn't he? It turned his stomach to imagine that they slept in a tangle of arms and legs, skin to skin, regularly. It rubbed abrasively against Mads perspective of Tino as a clean, untouchable... ... a perpetual 9 year old... He bit back the urge to physically separate them, and his face smoothed when Tino whimpered. His dreams weren't happy ones tonight.
Feeling bad for the Finn the Dane reached out a hand, intending to brush Tino's hair from his face in an act of comfort, but he was stopped with his hand still in the air with the soft sound of growling.
Berwald's little demon dog was perched right above Tino's head. Mads pulled back his hand and her face instantly snapped back into that of a doofy little puppy. Keeping his eye on the dog he reached for Tino again, only for the dog to start growling and showing her teeth at him before he could be within 5 inches of Tino. Mads played this game with the dog once or twice more before deciding that the little idiot was protecting Tino. "You're an asshole." He whispered to the dog. "I wouldn't hurt him." and with that he stalked into the bathroom to take care of his business.
On the way back out he spared the pair another passing glance. Tino seemed to have been soothed. Now the Finn had his face buried between the pillow and the crook of Berwald's neck, the Jotunn's arms up and wrapped around him. His breathing was softer and even. His bad dreams had been chased away.
Mads felt a pang of something, vibrating from the center of his chest to his stomach. It was real.
There was nothing manipulative in that hold. Nothing sexualized. It only was what it was. Berwald, even asleep, looking out for Tino in his moments of distress. It was real.
Tino wasn't nine years old. He was almost sixteen. And despite being so cute, and having a fondness for cute things, he was actually mature beyond his years. He was in fact old enough to be able to make decisions for himself.
Without thinking the Dane reached out to touch Tino again, but was brought back to reality by the little white devil on Tino's head. Right. Psycho dog.
He wandered back over to the chair and went back to staring out the window. His mind still wandering back to Tino.
Tino had been 9 when they had met. Siguard had been 11, and Mads 12. The Norwegian and Dane's relationship had finally moved past antagonism to friendship (though not yet romance) and Tino had been part of the deal. After all. Siguard and Tino had been friends since Siguard had been eight. Mads had quickly gotten attached to the soft, round little peep that was Tino.
Tino was bully food, more than he even knew. Tino believed that the bullying he recieved had stopped when he came to Hetalia Academy half way through 4th grade because he had lost so much weight playing hockey the season before. This was only partially true. After meeting Mads Tino had basically been marked under the Dane's protection. Being known as a bully (even if he really only had ever bullied Berwald and Siguard and had always been more of an emotional and psychological bully) earned Mads a certain kind of reputation. This reputation is what protected Tino. No one wanted to fuck with the Finn because they knew the Dane would be gunning for them if they did. It was hard for Mads to let go of that protective niche he had fallen into. That was Berwald's place now.
All the things Berwald SAID about loving Tino were proven sincere in that embrace. Mathias rarely believed what people had to SAY. Words were bullshit. And so when Berwald had been talking about loving Tino, the Dane had automatically become protective. He did not want to see Tino hurt in the deal. Because even if Berwald SAID that he loved the Finn, he could always end up proving by action that the tiny boy was nothing but a fetish or something.
Mathias only trusted actions. He was trapped in a physical world, as was evident by how difficult it was to reason with him with words alone. Mads had no reason to trust words. His parents SAID they'd be home for Christmas. His parents SAID that they would call him on his birthday. His parents SAID that they loved him... but where the rubber met the road actions spoke truer... Christmas came and DID his parents come home to spend it with him? No. His birthday would come and DID his phone ring? Not once... That one time... when he landed himself in the hospital... and it looked like he could have died... and he needed his family there to remind him that he was loved and had plenty of things to live for... DID they come home to visit him? Even once? No.
He couldn't count on just people's words. How could he feel comfortable with Tino doing so? You can say you love someone and then leave them to face their mortality alone. You can say you love someone but not once notice or worry about it when they say that they want to die. You can say you love someone, but then leave them alone heart broken. How could Mads trust that Berwald would be better to Tino than his own parents were to him?
But the Swede meant it, didn't he? He meant every one of those stupid words. Tino was loved. Tino was safe. ... And Mads had to accept it. He had to let it go. He had to let Tino be a grown up and be everything that came with the status... he couldn't interfer anymore.
This broke his heart, and he quickly mended it by reminding himself that he had another little brother now, Erik, who needed protecting too. Even if Tino didn't need him, Erik did. Erik was a family member he could claim a right to. Tino, he couldn't, but to Erik he could always justify their 'brother in law' relationship.
Now, just because he accepted Tino and Berwald's relationship, did not have to mean that he had to stop being an asshole to Berwald. It was the nature of their fremeny-ship. He decided he'd accept it. For Tino. Not for Berwald. The Svenk was still the Svenk Trold and was going to still get the ever living shit harassed out of him. This brought the Dane some comfort especially as he realized that the clock read 3:59.