New Years SuFin fic continued
Part One~
The promised lobster arrived mere moments thereafter, delivered by a pretty young hotel employee in possession of remarkable self-control as she did not break down in laughter right there on the spot. She did, however, excuse herself rather hastily. And once Finland had profusely apologized to Sweden (who merely mumbled that it was all right before disappearing into the bathroom where he remained for the better part of half an hour) and Sealand (who was very magnanimous, saying that it had been “Dad’s idea in the first place. Didn’t have much confidence in it, to be honest, and anyway that was wicked! D’you think he’ll get it out?”) they could sit down for dinner.
The meal itself passed without any incidents, and Finland found himself thoroughly enjoying it: it felt like ages since he’d last had a good meal. Food had somehow become less…important throughout the years. He usually ate more out of habit rather than enjoyment. Or, well, sustainment, though he supposed he technically didn’t need to worry too much about that.
He still loved salmiakki, though, and he suspected that wouldn’t ever change.
But eating like this, together like this, was…nice. And nostalgic. He could freely admit that. So when Sealand suddenly kicked back his chair (nearly toppling over in the process) and enthusiastically stood up, he found himself feeling almost…sad.
”Dad, we’re finished now, right? We can do it now, right?” The boy was literary bouncing in apparent anticipation. Sweden, neatly arranging his cutlery on his plate, looked up at the boy.
“Dess’rt?” He questioned, nodding towards the room service menu lying on the desk. Sealand shook his head.
“Nah, I’m stuffed! Thank you for the food!” The boy grinned at Finland. “This’ll be real cool, m…” He caught himself, rubbed the back of his head and laughed a bit, mumbling something that Finland couldn’t quite catch but which sounded like “Won’t ever get used to this…”. And then, between one moment and the next, he was suddenly next to Finland’s chair, tugging at his arm with that insistent look in his eyes. “C’mon! Balcony! Now!”
”That’s right; you were setting something up out there before, weren’t you?” Finland recalled, looking at Sweden, who gave a nod and also rose from the table. Finland, now curious, followed suit. Sealand, eyes alight, gave a little hoot of joy and said eagerly: “Can I fire the first one?”
*****
”I don’t want to be a killjoy, but…is it allowed to set off fireworks from a hotel balcony in the middle of the city?” Finland asked, somewhat apprehensively. Or perhaps very apprehensively. It did not strike him as the sort of thing everyone would take in stride.
“Nn. Got Den’s permission,” Sweden confirmed with a nod. Finland did suppose that that was just like Denmark. It did not mean that his worries were put to rest. There was always the possibility that the people of Copenhagen did not share their country’s fondness for…noise. And what if one of the rockets…well, they weren’t exactly predictable devices, were they? But one look at Sealand’s eager face made him cave.
“Oh, all right, then. I suppose there’s no harm in it as long as we’re careful…” Sealand gave another small whoop of delight at his words and hurried inside, presumably to fetch a lighter or some matches. Finland turned to Sweden and smiled.
“He seems to be enjoying himself. I’m glad.”
Sweden, his forearms resting on the balcony-rail, gave him a look. At, first, he said nothing, then: “Nn…’nd you?”
”Me?” Finland said, momentarily bewildered. “Oh, you mean if I’m enjoying myself?” Sweden nodded, his stare not faltering. It was hard not to fidget with that kind of intensity bearing down on you, but Finland did his best. “Of course I am.”
“Hn. Good.” His gaze turned to the city, to the many lights lit to drive out the darkness of the Danish December night and to the people merrily, and rather loudly, carousing in the streets. Well, Finland thought, at least they didn’t have to worry about the noise troubling anyone.
Standing next to Sweden, his elbows on the iron railing (he could feel the chill even through his coat, but since when had the cold bothered him?), he also let his eyes wander over the people below. For a moment, as he watched the almost giddy happiness with which they awaited the New Year, he felt guilty. Shouldn’t he be with his own people, laughing and wishing them all well? Wasn’t that the way it was supposed to be? Yet here he was, in Copenhagen, spending the end of the year with his former…former partner and…
“’m glad ye’re here,” Sweden said.
…and he supposed that wasn’t so bad, all things considered.
“Me too,” Finland replied just as Sealand came back out, a box of matches triumphantly in hand.
“Do you want to light the first one?” The boy asked as the three of them gathered around, offering Finland the matchbox.
“Me? I don’t mind, but didn’t you want to?”
“Nope! Changed my mind! I wanna see you do it!” And he more or less thrust the box into Finland’s hands.
“Um…” He gave a little chuckle. “Well, if you insist…” He took another look at the rockets. They were rather small, which put him somewhat to ease. He couldn’t see these things, toys really, do any lasting harm. Everything should be fine. Right.
“Stand back,” he cautioned the others as he lit the match, and Sweden took Sealand in hand and led him to the far end of the balcony. “Here goes!” The wick caught on right away and Finland quickly joined the others, a bit giddy despite himself.
“I hope it’s a blue one,” Sealand announced as it took off. “Those are the coolest ones.”
“I like them, too,” Finland agreed. “But I’ve heard those are the hardest to…” He trailed off, brows lowering into a frown. Wasn’t the rocket behaving a bit…erratically? Not that their line of trajectory was ever particularly straight, but that…that could only be described as a complete turnaround, right?
”Oh no…”
With a joyful whoosh, the rocket whizzed onto the balcony below them. And went off.
Sweden’s face darkened into a truly impressive scowl, even for him. Right next to him, Sealand was leaning over the rail, eyes sparkling and his mouth open in a perfect little “o”. Below them, a spectacular display of pyrotechnics was taking place, with colorful stars hurtling out into the night sky. Startled shouts and strings of curses accompanied them, and Finland felt himself go weak in the knees.
“That was sooo cool!” Sealand laughed, literally bouncing on his feet. “Fire another one, mom, c’mon!”
“No, Sealand,” Finland, not even bothering to correct the boy this time. “Mo…I won’t fire any more rockets. What I will do is to go down and apologize. And hope I haven’t sparked a diplomatic incident.” Or sent anyone to the hospital. Or set the room on fire. And as if to mock him, the fire alarm started wailing
Visions of a comatose Norway and a murderous, halibut-wielding Iceland flying up the stairs two steps at a time flew briefly through his mind before he firmly shut them out. He barely noticed how the fire alarm suddenly fell silent.
Someone was already knocking, banging, at the door by the time he reached it. Whoever it was must’ve truly flown up the stairs. After taking a moment to breathe and gather his courage, he opened the door.
“Sweden!” Denmark fair bellowed into his face. “What the hell are you tryin’ to pull, you…hey?” Tilting his head slightly downwards so he could properly look at the distressed Nation standing before him, his scowl broke into a sudden grin. “Heeey! If it ain’t Finland! How are you, buddy?” His hand came down on Finland’s shoulder in what was probably meant to be a friendly gesture, though it would in all probability have felled an ordinary man to the ground.
“Denmark,” Finland began. “I’m so very sorry.”
The Dane cocked his head to one side, bemused. “Well, that’s no good. What’re you sorry ‘bout?”
“Well…” Finland looked pointedly at Denmark’s formerly white suit, now resembling a chimney sweep’s get-up more than anything else, and the dark smudge of soot on his cheek. Denmark, noticing, merely laughed:
”What, this? You don’t have to worry ‘bout that.” Peering over Finland’s head into the room, he added: “Where’s Sweden? I wanna give him a piece of my mind.”
“What?” Realization dawned. “Wait! No!” That was a catastrophe in the making that quickly needed to be defused. “I don’t think you understand! I’m the one who fired that rocket!”
“What? You did?” Denmark, clearly disbelieving, stared at him.
“Yes, I did it,” Finland said, bracing himself for the coming outburst. “That…is why you’re here, right?”
“Well, yeah, but…” Denmark…deflated was the word. Even his hair seemed to lose some of its usual vigor. “You sure it was you?” he asked, almost pleadingly.
“Quite positive,” Finland assured him.
“Well…that’s…damn,” Denmark muttered before he suddenly perked up. “But, hey, it was Sweden’s idea, right? He suggested it, right?”
“I’m…not quite sure I follow you,” Finland admitted, a bit bewildered. “Aren’t you, um, angry? With me, I mean.”
“You kiddin’?” Denmark shook his head, as if the very notion seemed absurd. “Who’d want to fight with you? You’re either too nice or too friggin’ scary dependin’ on the…Hey, Sweden!”
“I didn’t say…” Finland tried lamely as Denmark rushed past him, intent on the tall figure standing with his arms crossed in the middle of the bedroom.
”Wh’re you h’re?” Sweden demanded, a mere hair’s breadth away from a “Get out”.
”Why am I here?” Denmark’s voice seemed to have regained its lost momentum, and was rising alarmingly in volume. “The hell d’you think?”
“Hn.”
“Picture it: me an’ Norway an’ the kid, eating an honest, good ol’ Danish dinner when BAM!” He threw out his arms for emphasis, narrowly avoiding knocking over the nearby floor lamp. “Next thing I know, there’s a goddamn Big Bang in the room. Colors, noise, the whole friggin’ shebang. Thought maybe someone figured spiking my Akvavit was great fun. Or maybe you’d finally lost it and started dropping the bombs…which wasn’t too far from the truth, was it?” he finished with an almost triumphant grin, an accusing finger inches from poking Sweden in the chest.
“Denmark,” Finland tried to interject. “That was…”
“Yeah, yeah, it was you,” Denmark sighed, making what could only be called a shooing motion in Finland’s direction. “Got it. So!” He turned back to Sweden. “What are you going to do about it?”
Sweden had the look that Finland remembered from when Hanatamago would proudly drag something particularly unpleasant through the dog door. “Le’ve.”
“Make me!” was Denmark’s predictable retort, challenge in his eyes.
Sensing imminent disaster, Finland moved, almost against his will, to stand between them. It was definitely against his better judgment. He concluded that some habits simply die hard.
“Could we please…” he began-
“Idiot.” Finland blinked in surprise. It was in all likelihood nothing compared to the surprise Denmark must’ve felt when a codfish, by the looks of it recently captured, connected with the back of his head with an audible, and wet, thwack.
“Excuse us,” said Iceland softly to a slightly dazed Finland. “Hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”
“Um, no…no, of course not,” said Finland weakly as Norway determinedly strode past him. Denmark, who had turned to face the door, looked just as stumped as he felt.
“Didn’t I tell you guys to wait in the room and call the front desk?”
“We did.” Iceland rolled his eyes. “Why do you think the alarm stopped?” Norway, who now had Denmark’s tie in a firm grip, gave Sweden and Finland a quick nod of acknowledgement. “I apologize.”
”Oh no, please!” Finland objected, slightly mortified. “I’m the one who should…”
”Hey! Hey, hey, hey!” Denmark’s index finger stabbed the air in front of Sweden’s face. “I’m not in the wrong here!” Sweden’s expression suggested he might take a bite out of that finger if something wasn’t done.
”You’re absolutely right, of course,” Finland hurried to say, hoping to forestall potential bloodshed. “But more importantly, are the three of you all right?” He hadn’t failed to notice that, while Denmark had stains of soot on his cheek and once white suit, Norway and Iceland seemed to have come away from it all completely unscathed. ”You, um, look all right, but…”
“We’re fine,” Iceland cut in, shrugging one shoulder in an almost nonchalant gesture. “Bit of a surprise, however.”
“Hey, what about me?” Denmark pointed to his smudged cheek. “I got…” Norway’s left eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. Denmark fell duly silent, turning instead to Sealand whereupon the two seemingly engaged in a grimace contest.
”He’s not really upset, you know,” Iceland mumbled to Finland, shaking his head. “He was just looking for an excuse to pick a fight with Sweden.”
”…Oh.” Finland supposed he really shouldn’t be all that surprised. But…”Isn’t that a bit…”
“Selfish?” Iceland snorted. “He might be better at hiding it, but Sweden’s no victim. He enjoys it just as much.” He let out the sigh of the long-suffering. “They’re like kids. Both of them are.”
“I…I suppose.”
“The idiot gave his permission,” Norway was saying. “He got what he deserved. Then again…” He leveled a look at Sweden. “I’m somewhat surprised you made the suggestion in the first place.” Sweden ducked a slightly colored face and mumbled “Sorry,” under his breath. “Well, I guess there’s an explanation for it…” Norway added softly, his eyes settling on Finland.
“Still stupid, though,” Iceland chimed in.
“Quite,” Norway agreed. Sweden looked pained. “And you,” the Norwegian went on, turning to Finland, who found himself almost standing at attention.
”Err, yes?”
Norway regarded him for what, to Finland, felt like entirely too long for comfort. “It’s good to see you,” he said at length.
”Oh…” Finland was floored, but managed a smile. ”Um, likewise, of course.” Had it been that long?
Norway nodded, and gave Denmark (who was doing…something with his cheeks and eyes that gave him quite the disconcerting look) a meaningful stare.
”So, what, we’re going? Already?” Denmark heaved a sigh, looking forlorn. “Ah well. Hey, there’s dancin’ down on the ground floor. You know, ’case you’re interested.” He grinned toothily, not entirely unlike Sealand. “’Course, me and Norway are gonna rock the roof off this place. Right, pal?” And he slung an arm around Norway’s slight shoulders. Norway, his errant curl of hair twitching slightly, shrugged him off.
”Don’t do that.”
”Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. I know you love me, re…Owowowow! Shit!” Denmark whined. “My foot! My dancin’ foot! You don’t do that to your partner’s foot, Norway! Christ, we’re not even dancin’ yeargh!” He broke off in a groan as Norway, with the same almost vacant expression, brought his heel down on the Dane’s other foot as well. Finland winced, and could’ve sworn he saw Sweden doing the same.
“We’ll be going, then,” said Iceland quietly as Norway bodily hauled a still moaning Denmark out the door, absently picking up the codfish on the way. “Maybe we’ll see you downstairs later?” he added just before the door closed behind him.
A few silent moments passed. Finland let out a small, breathy laugh.
“Well,” he said, maybe a little shakily. “No more fireworks tonight, I think.” He hadn’t meant it as an admonishment, but Sweden instantly looked even more troubled.
“S’rry.”
“Ah! No, no!” Finland hastily backpedaled. “Not your fault more than mine. So!” He cast about for another subject, somewhat desperately coming up with: “Anyone feeling up to, uh, dessert? Sealand?”
“What are you talking about, mom?” Sealand was already reaching for his hat. “The dance’s downstairs, right?” The boy’s smile was practically radiating ingenuous innocence. “They just told us that.”
“The dance?” Out of everything Sealand could’ve taken in interest in, dancing hadn’t been amongst the ones Finland had deemed very probable. “You want to go to the dance?” he asked again, just to make sure he hadn’t somehow misunderstood.
”Already going.” Well, that confirmed that. “Unless you don’t want to, of course,” he went on, suddenly demure. The effect was somewhat ruined by the look in his eyes. While not quite a leer, it was still enough to give Finland pause.
”Well…it’s…it’s been a while. Since I danced. Not, um, sure if I still can.” He swallowed, seeking help from Sweden. Sweden, for his part, was being uncharacteristically fidgety, his left hand clenching and unclenching and his right fiercely clutching his pant leg. No help there. “And…and I’m sure I don’t know any modern steps. I’ll probably end up doing the Jenkka out of habit or…or something and make a complete fool of myself and...”
“Finland…” Sweden cut into his increasingly feeble protests. “D’you w’nt to?”
There was a split-second pause, teetering precariously close to the edge of a minor eternity.
“You may have to lead for once. I didn’t lie when I said I was terribly out of practice. Just so you, um, know.”
There might have or might not have been the shadow of a smile on Sweden’s face. “M’ too.”
*****
”You’re a liar,” Finland muttered into Sweden’s shoulder. “You have been practicing, haven’t you?”
“Nn.”
“I knew…” He broke off in a small yelp of surprise as without warning he was suddenly dipped low, his head bare inches from the floor. “…it,” he finished when he came back up. “Please don’t do that again.”
“Don’t w’rry.” Sweden’s grip around him tightened just a fraction. “’ve got you.”
“…No need to say things like that, either,” Finland muttered, ducking his head to hide the slight blush that traitorously crept onto his cheeks. And maybe they drew a few looks, but at the moment, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care about it one bit.
A couple of steps away from them, Denmark had, despite everything, succeeded in roping Norway into a dance. And if he his steps were a bit awkward and fumbling (with the occasional wince of pain), he at least looked happy. Iceland, dancing next to them with a pretty brunette, was radiating threat so strongly it was a wonder Denmark didn’t simply keel over. Sealand, apparently finding this tremendously amusing, was making kissing faces while mouthing “Oh Denmark~,” before dissolving into sniggering. Iceland, his face a few shades darker than a thundercloud, promptly abandoned his stunned partner and made a grab for the boy, who just barely managed to dance out of his reach.
The boy had better make a run for it, thought Finland, perhaps more idly than he ought to: Iceland had stark murder written on his face…
”Finland,” Sweden said suddenly, breaking into his impromptu reverie. “’re you enj’ying yourself?”
Finland snorted a small laugh: “I think you already asked me that.”
”Mm?”
”And I think you know I’ll give you the same answer this time, too.” He could feel Sweden relax against him as he said it.
“Good.”
There was a brief pause. Across the room, Iceland caught Sealand by his shirt collar.
”You know I’m not going to move back in, right?” He felt it had to be said, even if Sweden should be well aware of it already.
“Nn…”
“…Good. Um…that you know.” He hesitated. “I wouldn’t mind coming over once in awhile, though. Visiting…now and then. To make sure you’re all right now that you’ll be…” Where was he going with that? Vulnerable? Not very likely. “Um… more susceptible to hostility…uh.” That…sounded even worse, didn’t it?
“…Th’nks.”
“…You’re welcome.” Ah well.
The music was dying down and someone was enthusiastically announcing that merely ten seconds stood between them and 2005, and the guests were implored to join in as the staff counted down.
The others were coming over: Denmark with a goofy grin and, as he apparently had not taken the previous lesson to heart, his arm slung around Norway’s shoulders. Norway, for his part, seemed to tolerate the gross invasion of his personal space for the time being.
Iceland and Sealand were bickering in hushed voices, but seemed to settle on a truce as they joined the others. The former seemed to be far more concerned with the alarming development between his older brother and the Dane to pay much attention to the boy anyway. Sealand, thus forgotten, bounded over to his father’s side, grinning and once again brimming with excitement. Sweden, blinking down at him as if surprised to suddenly find him there, placed a large hand on his shoulder. The gesture was a bit awkward, but there was an unmistakably gentleness about it that filled Finland with sudden nostalgia, and he felt a surge of fondness towards the tall man.
There had been a time when they’d been happy together, long ago. And maybe that wouldn’t come back precisely the way it had been, but…that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, was it? They could make something new, instead. True, there were some kinks between them to work out, but they had time. A whole lot of time.
Smiling to himself, Finland sought Sweden’s hand, giving it a small squeeze as he joined in with the counting.
3…
2…
1…
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AN: Yes. That's it. My first lackadaisical entry on the Hetalia fandom scene. Any fandom scene, really, as there's been a 5 year old pause since my last posting at fanfiction.net. WHICH NEVER HAPPENED.
On another note: writing Sweden's grunt speech is a humbling experience.