Fairytale
Title: Fairytale
Summary: It was inaccurate and much too ideal, but it was okay. It was his fairytale.
Notes: For cucumber_dragon. <3
He's being dragged deeper and deeper, down into the freezing depths of the water he's sailed over so many times in his life. It's hard, ignoring the burning ache of his lungs and the numbing chill of his skin, but he persists, because the moment he acknowledges the pain is the moment his fantasy will be shattered.
In his mind's eye, he sees an image he's captured several millennia in the past. There's a vast, green field, peppered with smooth pebbles and vibrant flowers, and he hears the distinct sound of a running creek not too far off. He can't see it, though, because he's lying down on the grass, enjoying the nice warm sun that often accompanies the spring breeze. He's just about to doze off when suddenly, icy cold water hits his face, forcing him to sit up spluttering and yelling obscenities.
"Sverige, you--!"
Oh, but he hears the quiet sounds of Sweden's laughter, and he can't bring himself to stay angry. Instead, he merely wipes his face and turned to look at the other man, his characteristic grin wide. He should be angry, he knows. He should be berating Sweden and telling him to stop being such a rude bastard, but he really can't help it. That laugh - that little chuckle, more like - is so precious and rare, he can't get himself to frown no matter how hard he tries.
"Th's wh're y've b'n, Danmark?" Sweden asks, and Denmark can tell he's trying to sound annoyed. It's not working.
"Ja, ever since the morning," he replies cheerily, shaking his head and sending droplets of water every which way. As expected, Sweden curses and steps back, trying in vain to escape the water as it comes at him.
"Y'look l'ke a dog."
"Do I?"
"...Ja."
"Hmm," Denmark muses, "But you like dogs. Are you trying to hint that you like me, Sverige?"
Sweden's cheeks gain the lightest tinge of pink, and he looks all the more cuter when he frowns. "...Ja. I--"
Ah, wait, that isn't right. Sweden would've vehemently denied it with a stone-cold glare, and called him stupid for wasting his time. But it's okay, Denmark thinks, because this is his fairytale to tell, and his world to create, all as he sinks lower and lower, down into the depths of Baltic Sea.
Summary: It was inaccurate and much too ideal, but it was okay. It was his fairytale.
Notes: For cucumber_dragon. <3
He's being dragged deeper and deeper, down into the freezing depths of the water he's sailed over so many times in his life. It's hard, ignoring the burning ache of his lungs and the numbing chill of his skin, but he persists, because the moment he acknowledges the pain is the moment his fantasy will be shattered.
In his mind's eye, he sees an image he's captured several millennia in the past. There's a vast, green field, peppered with smooth pebbles and vibrant flowers, and he hears the distinct sound of a running creek not too far off. He can't see it, though, because he's lying down on the grass, enjoying the nice warm sun that often accompanies the spring breeze. He's just about to doze off when suddenly, icy cold water hits his face, forcing him to sit up spluttering and yelling obscenities.
"Sverige, you--!"
Oh, but he hears the quiet sounds of Sweden's laughter, and he can't bring himself to stay angry. Instead, he merely wipes his face and turned to look at the other man, his characteristic grin wide. He should be angry, he knows. He should be berating Sweden and telling him to stop being such a rude bastard, but he really can't help it. That laugh - that little chuckle, more like - is so precious and rare, he can't get himself to frown no matter how hard he tries.
"Th's wh're y've b'n, Danmark?" Sweden asks, and Denmark can tell he's trying to sound annoyed. It's not working.
"Ja, ever since the morning," he replies cheerily, shaking his head and sending droplets of water every which way. As expected, Sweden curses and steps back, trying in vain to escape the water as it comes at him.
"Y'look l'ke a dog."
"Do I?"
"...Ja."
"Hmm," Denmark muses, "But you like dogs. Are you trying to hint that you like me, Sverige?"
Sweden's cheeks gain the lightest tinge of pink, and he looks all the more cuter when he frowns. "...Ja. I--"
Ah, wait, that isn't right. Sweden would've vehemently denied it with a stone-cold glare, and called him stupid for wasting his time. But it's okay, Denmark thinks, because this is his fairytale to tell, and his world to create, all as he sinks lower and lower, down into the depths of Baltic Sea.