Pretty
Title: Pretty
Author/Artist: Me!
Rating: T
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Finland, Sealand, Latvia, Sweden, SuFin
Warnings: Genderbent!Sweden, Sealand, & Latvia, other genderbents mentioned. And reallydrunk!Finland.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Summary: Finland is pretty. Oh so pretty.
This is kind of a sequel to my other genderbent!Sweden story, which can be read here. You don't need to have read that one to understand this one, though!
-&-&-
Finland swaggered drunkenly down the road. He had no idea what he was going to tell Sweden, but he was fucking finished with all this “guys night” crap. It never ended well.
Fucking Denmark had downed too many beers (like usual) and started mouthing off about Sweden and Finland didn’t care that Denmark was taller and stronger than him. No one talked shit about Sweden, especially after Finland had learned how his woman was taking all those mean words so very personally.
So once again, he and Denmark had gotten into a pretty bad bar fight. Finland had released the first punch, knocking stupid Denmark off his stool and onto the floor.
It’s not like Finland wasn’t drunk by that point, either. He was. None of the guys were very good about pacing their alcohol intake. Moderation? Fuck that. But Finland was very, very pissed off-meaning that he was a bit more capable of damage than the clumsier, more drunken bastard he was fighting. Finland landed a number of good hits while Denmark only succeeded in connecting his punches a handful of times.
Finland was sporting a dark blue eye, but he considered it a badge of honor for defending his woman. America had finally pulled Finland off, announcing him the winner and Finland hadn’t known how to acknowledge the cheers of his fellow bar patrons. It’s not like he was fighting for acknowledgement, he was fighting because Denmark was a motherfucking fuckface. Obviously. He would have rather kicked the shit out of Denmark a bit longer, but America had decided he needed more vodka and that was that.
Some of these guys were so stupid. Finland couldn’t stand it. Listening to Spain and America and Prussia babble on and on and on… fucking fuck. Finland was extremely drunk and extremely pissed off at them all and was extremely fed up with this evening-he didn’t fucking want to go to a strip club, he wanted to play pool and drink more instead of wasting his money seeing fake imitations while he had something absolutely gorgeous waiting for him at home.
Well, not really waiting because when the male nations had a guys night out, the female nations had a girls night in. And Sweden was hosting this time, because Denmark was hosting and the two nations were really close together so couples could come together? Yeah. That had been the idea.
Fuck, just whatever. Finland’s brain was fuzzy and kept bouncing around from thought to thought because he was so completely intoxicated. Honestly, Finland didn’t think he’d been this drunk in quite awhile. He’d been pretty drunk before kicking the shit out of Denmark but after America’s victory shots he was kind of creeping into the realm of danger.
Finland didn’t know what the realm of danger entailed, other than that it was dangerous and if Sweden wasn’t hosting he would probably call her and have her come get him at this point. Because he was kind of lost.
Right. Because he’d stormed out of the bar like awhile ago because he was angry-drunk and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Perhaps he should maybe have not done that, but it was too late for regrets! No regrets! Fucking Denmark deserved what he fucking got! Vittu joo!
Besides, Sweden liked to buy new phones and always gave him her old ones, so he had one of those nifty smart phones that had a GPS he could use to find his way home. Score! Thank god Sweden looked out for him like that.
So he pulled up his little “maps” icon and entered their address into the little line thingy and hit the “go” button.
And fuck, it was like… a really long walk to their house in Sweden. Because he was in Denmark. Finland had better get started!
He ambled along the cold streets (because it wasn’t summer. It was autumn. The halfway season that was basically cold but teased you sometimes with the illusion of being semi-warm in the middle of the day but you should still take a jacket, Finland, because I’m Sweden and I know this sort of shit because I have a vagina blah blah blah you have a penis blah.)
It was cold, but yes he did have his jacket because Sweden made him take it. Vaginas had magical powers. Sweden knew he’d need it because she had magical powers. Therefore, Sweden had magical powers because she had a vagina. Not like Norway’s magical powers. Sweden’s magical powers of foresight. Was that the right word? You know what, whatever. But Norway had a vagina too, so maybe it was all interconnected somehow?
If Sweden was a superhero, what superhero powers would she have? Finland amused himself as his little GPS icon told him to “turn right ahead!” Hmm. Maybe she’d be blow-job girl! Yeah! Fuck yeah! Best superhero ever in his book. Probably not the kind he’d seen in Sealand’s comic books (America insisted she have them because they were “educational” or some bullshit like that and so England gave them to her and Finland read them all beforehand to make sure they were appropriate because they were from America, after all.)
Um, yeah. Finland was definitely drunk. He paused, leaning against the side of a random building and looking down at his little GPS tracker. He was… a long way from Sweden. Yeah. He had to cross a river? A lake? The ocean? He had to cross some water. There we go.
Oh dear that was a bit far. Especially because Finland was feeling really, really drunk. Perhaps he would have to call Sweden after all.
Because he could use a taxi, but he didn’t have any money. Did taxis take credit cards? Fuck, he didn’t know. Maybe? What if they didn’t? What if he hailed one and got in and it was like that episode of that show where the serial killer killed people?
Finland didn’t want to take a fucking cab. Fucking… fuck. What was he going to do. He was in Denmark and it was cold and he was completely smashed and Sweden was having a girly party and he needed to get on the train to Malmo.
He decided to switch the address in his phone to “train station” and wander that way.
Eventually, Finland got his ass on a train. He knew it was going to Sweden, only because one of the other passengers had kindly confirmed that it was going to Malmo so Finland decided that maybe he should take a nap. It was like thirty minutes, after all. Right? About that long?
Whatever. Fuck this. Fuck Denmark. Fuck everything. Well, not Sweden. Hopefully the girls wouldn’t mind him crashing their party. He glanced at his watch-it was only eleven and he was already completely shitfaced, with a black eye.
Druuunk. But no regrets! No regrets whatsoever! But guys’ nights did always end up being total disasters but everyone insisted on the tradition continuing. Hell if Finland knew why. He just wanted to… to um, yeah. Whatever.
So Finland closed his eyes and hummed the Moomin song because he liked Moomins and maybe he should have worn a Moomin shirt but Sweden told him he couldn’t because she liked to pick his clothes sometimes because it was a vagina thing so Finland just went along with it because he didn’t give a fuck about clothes.
He wondered if maybe his smartphone would let him stream Moomin episodes?!
But he didn’t have headphones and that would be kind of rude. He was already completely drunk after all he didn’t want to give anyone any reasons for not letting him go home.
Finland needed to pee, so he got up and kind of teetered to the bathroom. He did his business happily, and then walked back to his seat.
WHY WAS THE TRAIN TAKING SO LONG. It was sooo lonnng. Why was it so long Finland checked his phone and realized he had some messages.
But they were from Denmark and fuck that. Finland wasn’t going to respond-take that, you motherfucker. Finland was so badass. So, so badass. You’d better watch out, fuckers.
Then someone shook his shoulder. Finland blinked, and realized he’d fallen asleep after all.
He apologized, and the train person just look amused and ushered him off the train. He didn’t have any belongings. Like, bags. He had his wallet. And his phone! Well, Sweden’s phone. Her second oldest one, because Sealand had the first oldest one because she and Latvia text messaged like there was no tomorrow and Sweden was a softie and gave their daughter the cooler phone. Finland didn’t give a fuck-a phone was a phone and it made his women happy so whatever.
Finland paused in the middle of the train station and stared straight up at the ceiling because it was fascinating, for some odd reason. Finland couldn’t figure out why it was so neat. Neat-o. Cheerio. Right-o. Drain-o.
What the fuck was he doing, standing in the middle of the train station? Fuck. He was supposed to be going somewhere.
Fuck. Where was he supposed to be going? Sweden would know.
[Sent: Oct 17th 11:56 PM]
Hej sve were am i?
[Received: Oct 18th 12:03 AM]
You’re in Denmark.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:04 AM]
oh rite luv u
[Received: Oct 18th 12:06 AM]
You’re drunk.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:08 AM]
how uno? cus ur vagina?! luv ur vagina <3
Sweden didn’t respond, so Finland figured that she’d written him off as simply drunk texting and she didn’t understand how very in need of assistance he was.
So Finland sighed and ambled out to get a taxi because he wanted to go home.
FUCK. He’d forgotten about the serial killers, though!!! Fucking fuckhead serial killers in taxis did he risk it fuckfuckfuck maybe?!
Finland stood in line, slowly watching the people enter taxis and they all seemed fine but he knew the one taxi he got would have the serial killer.
So he waited very patiently and when he was the first person he moved to the back of the person behind him.
FUCK YES. Did Finland just outsmart a potential serial killer? YES. BECAUSE HE WAS GENIUS FUCK YES.
So Finland happily got in the next taxi.
“Hello, driving man.” Finland said, immediately entranced with the upholstery of the backseat. “My name is Suomi.”
“Suomi.”
“You might know me better as ‘Finland.’” Finland replied haughtily, still enchanted by the faded leather fabric. “You should take me right home because Sve will come get you if you don’t.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. She’ll use Denmark’s axe!” Finland made chop-chop motions with his hands.
“I see. I need your address to get you home, then.”
“Oh, right! You’re so smart.”
So Finland gave the taxi driver his address and taxi man took Finland to his apartment. Well, Sweden’s. But they both lived there sometimes. When they were in Malmo. Yeah.
He gave the taxi driver a hug over the back of the seat and gave him his credit card and watched the taxi driver do the little swipey maneuver thing and then he put the credit card back in his wallet and walked up the little steps.
Geez there were a lot of steps.
Finland stared up at them. Because he and Sweden and Sealand lived on the fifth floor and that was like… five flights of stairs, right? Five. Five. So many whoa.
So Finland decided to ninja his way up the stairs, but he learned very quickly that barrel rolling up stairs was a very difficult task. So he decided maybe to walk instead, even though that was boring.
He had some new bruises, though. Not from Denmark, from gravity. So if Sweden asked him if he got in a fight with Denmark again in that tone of voice that made Finland feel like a guilty shithead he could say “no I fought gravity” with a straight face without lying. Awesome.
So Finland reached his door, finally. And sighed because he was tired. And his stomach was doing some rolls-was he going to puke? Fuck. He hated puking. He didn’t just want to walk in and puke everywhere. Sweden would get mad at him. So maybe he should puke outside? But he had just climbed all those damn steps.
Well, puking outside the door would really piss Sve off, so Finland marched back down the stairs and puked in the trashcan in the entryway.
He sighed, sitting on the floor beneath a “please no loitering” sign. Then Finland had a brilliant idea!
Sealand had a phone! She would come help her drunken Mama up the steps, right? Because she was a good little angel.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:36 AM]
Seaaa
[Received: Oct 18th 12:37 AM]
Hey Mama! What’s up?
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:38 AM]
stairs
[Received: Oct 18th 12:40 AM]
Um, okay. What does that mean?
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:41 AM]
I cant git up steps of teh hous
[Received: Oct 18th 12:42 AM]
It’s because you’re drunk, isn’t it? Papa says I shouldn’t help you when you’re drunk because it only encourages your self-destructive behavior.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:43 AM]
peeeease
[Received: Oct 18th 12:43 AM]
Latvia says I should just tell Papa.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:44 AM]
No shell b mad she tinks im danamrk
[Received: Oct 18th 12:45 AM]
So if we help you, what’s in it for us? ;)
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:46 AM]
whatev u want
[Received: Oct 18th 12:46 AM]
A makeover! :D
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:47 AM]
sure jus hlp ur mama
[Received: Oct 18th 12:47 AM]
Coming!
Finland sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket and wiping his mouth with his sleeve to remove any traces of things he didn’t want his daughter and her best friend to see.
Not even a minute later and heard giggling and footsteps. He smiled at the blonde pigtails that bounced in his view.
“Hey Mama!” Sealand chirped happily, scooping one of Finland’s arms over her shoulder. Latvia timidly approached Finland’s other side, and he tossed his arm over her shoulder, making her yelp.
“Thank you two.” Finland said, stumbling to his feet.
“What happened to your face? Did you fight with Uncle Demark? You know that Papa gets irritated when you and Uncle Denmark fight because she thinks she’s the only one that can handle Uncle Denmark in a fistfight and she probably has a point because your eye is one entire giant swell and Aunt Norge is probably the one who really handles Uncle Denmark anyway and by the way you smell sort of bad-“
Finland laughed and dropped a sloppy kiss on Sea’s forehead.
“M’lil tattletale.” He mumbled fondly as the trio made it up the first flight up steps.
“But your eye messes up our plans!” Sealand continued unabashedly. “We can probably cover it, though, but I’ll have to sneak in to your room and swipe Papa’s concealer-“
“Papa doesn’t like it when you take her things without asking.” Finland reminded in a drunken sing-song.
“Yeah, that’s true but it’s for you and Papa melts when it comes to you. Why doesn’t she melt when it comes to me?” Sealand pouted.
“She does.” Finland corrected. “But not to your face because we don’t want you to be a brat.”
Sealand pouted. “I’m not a brat!”
Latvia sighed, very glad that they were almost to the fifth floor.
“But anyway, I guess I’ll ask Papa if I can borrow her concealer and if she says no I’ll take it anyway and we can make you pretty!” Sealand clapped her hands excitedly.
“Mm?” Finland intoned. “You’re already pretty.”
“No, Mama. You.”
Finland blinked. “Oooh.”
Sealand and Latvia giggled excitedly.
The trio quietly snuck into the apartment, making their way to Sealand’s bedroom miraculously unnoticed. Latvia and Sealand deposited Finland on Sealand’s bright blue bedspread, and Latvia began to root through nail polish colors and Sealand jogged out of the room, most likely to go pester Sve with questions about concealer.
Finland shrugged, as he was finally up those damn steps. Damn steps. He decided that maybe Sve should buy an elevator. That way, when he was drunk, he wouldn’t have to climb the steps. That was a fucking fantastic idea-a drunk elevator, that had little stink-proof vomit-bags if you needed them and maybe even a bar so you could down a shot or two while going up to your room.
PERFECT INVENTION. Finland was such a genius. He basked in his brilliance for a few minutes, ignoring the giggles around him.
“Okay Mama!” Sealand’s perky reply brought him back to his senses. “Which color do you like better?” Sealand held up two pink little bottle things.
Finland eyed them curiously. “There’s a difference?”
Sealand and Latvia giggled. “Yes, Mama. This one is I’m Not Really a Waitress and this one is You’re a Pisa Work!”
Finland blinked. “What… what?” He made sure to censor himself, because good Mamas didn’t curse in front of their sweet little impressionable daughters, especially ones that were tattletales and would most likely tell their Papas.
“Pink, Mama! We’re going to do your nails!” Sealand cheered, Latvia giggled behind her. “Latvia is going to do them because she’s the best at nails and I’m going to do your make-up and you’re going to look fabulous and maybe Papa will let us play dress up?” Sealand got a dreamy look on her face. “You’d look great in purple, Mama!”
Finland belatedly realized that perhaps this had been a bad idea, but you know what? He didn’t really care. He was drunk and it was making his daughter happy and you know, whatever. He’d done worse things.
“Then I need purple polish to match?” Finland questioned.
“No! You can mix and match nail colors, Mama.” Sealand rolled her eyes while instructing Finland to take off his shoes and socks. “Don’t be such a boy.”
Finland shrugged, wiggling his toes and making the two younger girls shriek.
“Your feet smell awful!” Sealand chastised. “Wait here. I’m going to get Papa’s perfume.”
“Ask first!” Finland attempted to be parental, but Sealand was already gone.
Latvia ignored Sealand’s behavior and got to work painting the nails of Finland’s left hand.
“What color did you decide?”
“I’m Not Really a Waitress.” Latvia mumbled, concentrating on keeping her little hand steady. “It will look good with your complexion.”
“Alright.” Finland let the girl work.
Sealand dashed back into the room, holding a glass bottle in her hand. “This kind smells the best!” She promised. “Papa lets me wear it sometimes when we go to fancy things.”
“Oh.” Latvia whispered, a bit jealous.
“You can have some too!” Sealand decided, and began to spray the perfume about the room excessively. “And while I was in Mama and Papa’s room I grabbed one of Papa’s old purple robe-dress things.”
She dropped the garment on her bed next to her drunken Mama, and clasped her hands together excitedly.
“Face time!” She chirped. “Concealer first, to hide your mega ugly bruise.”
“From gravity.” Finland explained.
“Save your excuses for Papa.” Sealand replied, smudging the stuff across Finland’s eye.
“Be kind with Mama’s injuries.” Finland winced and Sealand smeared the creamy stuff.
“Mama shouldn’t get into fights with Uncle Denmark.” Sealand countered, ignoring Finland’s griping. “Now foundation!”
Finland sat through an array various powders and creams and the like. He kind of knew about them, as they sat on Sweden’s side of the sink and sometimes in the morning he’d see Sweden use them before but honestly? Like he knew the difference.
There was face powder and face cream and nose cream and nose powder and what the fuck ever. There was also the pokey little stick thing with bristles and the long pokey thing that Sve used, as well?
Sealand used those, too, but they weren’t Sve’s. Sweden had broken down and taken their daughter make-up shopping, this Finland knew, because all this crap was expensive and Sweden had been a little sheepish about letting Finland do the household finances that month, but whatever. Finland didn’t care-it made his women happy, right? Right. Worth all the money.
Finland had never expected any of the stuff to be used on his person, but Sealand seemed to be having a grand time and Latvia was working on his toes now and you know what, Finland didn’t give a shit.
He wasn’t like America, who had to go out of his way to prove his manliness. No, Finland knew he was a man. He didn’t mind holding Sve’s purse while she was doing something. He didn’t mind being dragged along on shopping trips to be used as a bag-holder. He didn’t mind being sent to buy tampons.
Finland was just like that. He zoned, letting his mind wander to useless things or replaying Moomin episodes in his head.
Sealand finally pulled from his face maybe ten minutes later, Latvia peering over her shoulder in delight. Latvia seemed to be more amused than anything else, but Sealand looked proud.
Sealand handed Finland a mirror and awaited his response anxiously.
“What do you think?”
His eyelids were purple and his lips were red and he looked kind of like a clown but hell, this was his baby-girl.
“I look perfect.” Finland announced, letting the mirror fall to his lap. “Thank you both.”
“You gotta try on the dress.” Sealand urged.
“I can’t do that with two ladies in here.” Finland said. “Give me five minutes.”
Latvia and Sealand giggled some more, exiting the room and leaving Finland to contemplate the outfit they’d chosen for him.
At least it wasn’t new. Finland knew it was a favorite, though, and if he ruined it Sve might have his head.
So Finland changed into the dress thing, and since his five minutes weren’t up he decided to take another nap.
-&-&-
Sweden enjoyed girls’ nights.
Norway and England were debating magical theories in a corner of the room, each with their favored wine in hand. Iceland was being fawned over by North Italy, while France and South Italy seemed to be having an interesting conversation in which France teased the younger girl about a certain Spaniard. Russia was happily chatting with Poland, who was completely decked out in a pink cocktail dress and was sipping a strawberry daiquiri like she was on a beach.
Sweden was concentrating on being a good host, and while the nations present assured her she was fine she couldn’t help but feel something was off.
Sealand had approached her about borrowing various beauty items, and Sweden had allowed her daughter the privilege because she seemed very exuberant and had promised to take care of them.
Then Sweden heard giggling-she peeked her head into the hall and noted Latvia and Sealand giggling together outside of Sealand’s bedroom.
“What are you doing.” Sweden asked.
Latvia yelped guilty, and Sealand sent her Papa a very delighted grin.
“Oh, Papa.” She laughed, gesturing at her bedroom door. “I know you’ll be mad, but maybe this will teach him not to drink so much?”
Sweden’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity, and she cautiously opened her daughter’s bedroom.
To see Finland. In her dress. Wearing make-up and fingernail polish. Asleep on their daughter’s bed.
Sweden couldn’t stop her own giggles, She couldn’t. Her giggling dissolved into true laughter, and she whipped out her phone to take some pictures.
Author/Artist: Me!
Rating: T
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Finland, Sealand, Latvia, Sweden, SuFin
Warnings: Genderbent!Sweden, Sealand, & Latvia, other genderbents mentioned. And reallydrunk!Finland.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Summary: Finland is pretty. Oh so pretty.
This is kind of a sequel to my other genderbent!Sweden story, which can be read here. You don't need to have read that one to understand this one, though!
-&-&-
Finland swaggered drunkenly down the road. He had no idea what he was going to tell Sweden, but he was fucking finished with all this “guys night” crap. It never ended well.
Fucking Denmark had downed too many beers (like usual) and started mouthing off about Sweden and Finland didn’t care that Denmark was taller and stronger than him. No one talked shit about Sweden, especially after Finland had learned how his woman was taking all those mean words so very personally.
So once again, he and Denmark had gotten into a pretty bad bar fight. Finland had released the first punch, knocking stupid Denmark off his stool and onto the floor.
It’s not like Finland wasn’t drunk by that point, either. He was. None of the guys were very good about pacing their alcohol intake. Moderation? Fuck that. But Finland was very, very pissed off-meaning that he was a bit more capable of damage than the clumsier, more drunken bastard he was fighting. Finland landed a number of good hits while Denmark only succeeded in connecting his punches a handful of times.
Finland was sporting a dark blue eye, but he considered it a badge of honor for defending his woman. America had finally pulled Finland off, announcing him the winner and Finland hadn’t known how to acknowledge the cheers of his fellow bar patrons. It’s not like he was fighting for acknowledgement, he was fighting because Denmark was a motherfucking fuckface. Obviously. He would have rather kicked the shit out of Denmark a bit longer, but America had decided he needed more vodka and that was that.
Some of these guys were so stupid. Finland couldn’t stand it. Listening to Spain and America and Prussia babble on and on and on… fucking fuck. Finland was extremely drunk and extremely pissed off at them all and was extremely fed up with this evening-he didn’t fucking want to go to a strip club, he wanted to play pool and drink more instead of wasting his money seeing fake imitations while he had something absolutely gorgeous waiting for him at home.
Well, not really waiting because when the male nations had a guys night out, the female nations had a girls night in. And Sweden was hosting this time, because Denmark was hosting and the two nations were really close together so couples could come together? Yeah. That had been the idea.
Fuck, just whatever. Finland’s brain was fuzzy and kept bouncing around from thought to thought because he was so completely intoxicated. Honestly, Finland didn’t think he’d been this drunk in quite awhile. He’d been pretty drunk before kicking the shit out of Denmark but after America’s victory shots he was kind of creeping into the realm of danger.
Finland didn’t know what the realm of danger entailed, other than that it was dangerous and if Sweden wasn’t hosting he would probably call her and have her come get him at this point. Because he was kind of lost.
Right. Because he’d stormed out of the bar like awhile ago because he was angry-drunk and it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Perhaps he should maybe have not done that, but it was too late for regrets! No regrets! Fucking Denmark deserved what he fucking got! Vittu joo!
Besides, Sweden liked to buy new phones and always gave him her old ones, so he had one of those nifty smart phones that had a GPS he could use to find his way home. Score! Thank god Sweden looked out for him like that.
So he pulled up his little “maps” icon and entered their address into the little line thingy and hit the “go” button.
And fuck, it was like… a really long walk to their house in Sweden. Because he was in Denmark. Finland had better get started!
He ambled along the cold streets (because it wasn’t summer. It was autumn. The halfway season that was basically cold but teased you sometimes with the illusion of being semi-warm in the middle of the day but you should still take a jacket, Finland, because I’m Sweden and I know this sort of shit because I have a vagina blah blah blah you have a penis blah.)
It was cold, but yes he did have his jacket because Sweden made him take it. Vaginas had magical powers. Sweden knew he’d need it because she had magical powers. Therefore, Sweden had magical powers because she had a vagina. Not like Norway’s magical powers. Sweden’s magical powers of foresight. Was that the right word? You know what, whatever. But Norway had a vagina too, so maybe it was all interconnected somehow?
If Sweden was a superhero, what superhero powers would she have? Finland amused himself as his little GPS icon told him to “turn right ahead!” Hmm. Maybe she’d be blow-job girl! Yeah! Fuck yeah! Best superhero ever in his book. Probably not the kind he’d seen in Sealand’s comic books (America insisted she have them because they were “educational” or some bullshit like that and so England gave them to her and Finland read them all beforehand to make sure they were appropriate because they were from America, after all.)
Um, yeah. Finland was definitely drunk. He paused, leaning against the side of a random building and looking down at his little GPS tracker. He was… a long way from Sweden. Yeah. He had to cross a river? A lake? The ocean? He had to cross some water. There we go.
Oh dear that was a bit far. Especially because Finland was feeling really, really drunk. Perhaps he would have to call Sweden after all.
Because he could use a taxi, but he didn’t have any money. Did taxis take credit cards? Fuck, he didn’t know. Maybe? What if they didn’t? What if he hailed one and got in and it was like that episode of that show where the serial killer killed people?
Finland didn’t want to take a fucking cab. Fucking… fuck. What was he going to do. He was in Denmark and it was cold and he was completely smashed and Sweden was having a girly party and he needed to get on the train to Malmo.
He decided to switch the address in his phone to “train station” and wander that way.
Eventually, Finland got his ass on a train. He knew it was going to Sweden, only because one of the other passengers had kindly confirmed that it was going to Malmo so Finland decided that maybe he should take a nap. It was like thirty minutes, after all. Right? About that long?
Whatever. Fuck this. Fuck Denmark. Fuck everything. Well, not Sweden. Hopefully the girls wouldn’t mind him crashing their party. He glanced at his watch-it was only eleven and he was already completely shitfaced, with a black eye.
Druuunk. But no regrets! No regrets whatsoever! But guys’ nights did always end up being total disasters but everyone insisted on the tradition continuing. Hell if Finland knew why. He just wanted to… to um, yeah. Whatever.
So Finland closed his eyes and hummed the Moomin song because he liked Moomins and maybe he should have worn a Moomin shirt but Sweden told him he couldn’t because she liked to pick his clothes sometimes because it was a vagina thing so Finland just went along with it because he didn’t give a fuck about clothes.
He wondered if maybe his smartphone would let him stream Moomin episodes?!
But he didn’t have headphones and that would be kind of rude. He was already completely drunk after all he didn’t want to give anyone any reasons for not letting him go home.
Finland needed to pee, so he got up and kind of teetered to the bathroom. He did his business happily, and then walked back to his seat.
WHY WAS THE TRAIN TAKING SO LONG. It was sooo lonnng. Why was it so long Finland checked his phone and realized he had some messages.
But they were from Denmark and fuck that. Finland wasn’t going to respond-take that, you motherfucker. Finland was so badass. So, so badass. You’d better watch out, fuckers.
Then someone shook his shoulder. Finland blinked, and realized he’d fallen asleep after all.
He apologized, and the train person just look amused and ushered him off the train. He didn’t have any belongings. Like, bags. He had his wallet. And his phone! Well, Sweden’s phone. Her second oldest one, because Sealand had the first oldest one because she and Latvia text messaged like there was no tomorrow and Sweden was a softie and gave their daughter the cooler phone. Finland didn’t give a fuck-a phone was a phone and it made his women happy so whatever.
Finland paused in the middle of the train station and stared straight up at the ceiling because it was fascinating, for some odd reason. Finland couldn’t figure out why it was so neat. Neat-o. Cheerio. Right-o. Drain-o.
What the fuck was he doing, standing in the middle of the train station? Fuck. He was supposed to be going somewhere.
Fuck. Where was he supposed to be going? Sweden would know.
[Sent: Oct 17th 11:56 PM]
Hej sve were am i?
[Received: Oct 18th 12:03 AM]
You’re in Denmark.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:04 AM]
oh rite luv u
[Received: Oct 18th 12:06 AM]
You’re drunk.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:08 AM]
how uno? cus ur vagina?! luv ur vagina <3
Sweden didn’t respond, so Finland figured that she’d written him off as simply drunk texting and she didn’t understand how very in need of assistance he was.
So Finland sighed and ambled out to get a taxi because he wanted to go home.
FUCK. He’d forgotten about the serial killers, though!!! Fucking fuckhead serial killers in taxis did he risk it fuckfuckfuck maybe?!
Finland stood in line, slowly watching the people enter taxis and they all seemed fine but he knew the one taxi he got would have the serial killer.
So he waited very patiently and when he was the first person he moved to the back of the person behind him.
FUCK YES. Did Finland just outsmart a potential serial killer? YES. BECAUSE HE WAS GENIUS FUCK YES.
So Finland happily got in the next taxi.
“Hello, driving man.” Finland said, immediately entranced with the upholstery of the backseat. “My name is Suomi.”
“Suomi.”
“You might know me better as ‘Finland.’” Finland replied haughtily, still enchanted by the faded leather fabric. “You should take me right home because Sve will come get you if you don’t.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. She’ll use Denmark’s axe!” Finland made chop-chop motions with his hands.
“I see. I need your address to get you home, then.”
“Oh, right! You’re so smart.”
So Finland gave the taxi driver his address and taxi man took Finland to his apartment. Well, Sweden’s. But they both lived there sometimes. When they were in Malmo. Yeah.
He gave the taxi driver a hug over the back of the seat and gave him his credit card and watched the taxi driver do the little swipey maneuver thing and then he put the credit card back in his wallet and walked up the little steps.
Geez there were a lot of steps.
Finland stared up at them. Because he and Sweden and Sealand lived on the fifth floor and that was like… five flights of stairs, right? Five. Five. So many whoa.
So Finland decided to ninja his way up the stairs, but he learned very quickly that barrel rolling up stairs was a very difficult task. So he decided maybe to walk instead, even though that was boring.
He had some new bruises, though. Not from Denmark, from gravity. So if Sweden asked him if he got in a fight with Denmark again in that tone of voice that made Finland feel like a guilty shithead he could say “no I fought gravity” with a straight face without lying. Awesome.
So Finland reached his door, finally. And sighed because he was tired. And his stomach was doing some rolls-was he going to puke? Fuck. He hated puking. He didn’t just want to walk in and puke everywhere. Sweden would get mad at him. So maybe he should puke outside? But he had just climbed all those damn steps.
Well, puking outside the door would really piss Sve off, so Finland marched back down the stairs and puked in the trashcan in the entryway.
He sighed, sitting on the floor beneath a “please no loitering” sign. Then Finland had a brilliant idea!
Sealand had a phone! She would come help her drunken Mama up the steps, right? Because she was a good little angel.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:36 AM]
Seaaa
[Received: Oct 18th 12:37 AM]
Hey Mama! What’s up?
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:38 AM]
stairs
[Received: Oct 18th 12:40 AM]
Um, okay. What does that mean?
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:41 AM]
I cant git up steps of teh hous
[Received: Oct 18th 12:42 AM]
It’s because you’re drunk, isn’t it? Papa says I shouldn’t help you when you’re drunk because it only encourages your self-destructive behavior.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:43 AM]
peeeease
[Received: Oct 18th 12:43 AM]
Latvia says I should just tell Papa.
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:44 AM]
No shell b mad she tinks im danamrk
[Received: Oct 18th 12:45 AM]
So if we help you, what’s in it for us? ;)
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:46 AM]
whatev u want
[Received: Oct 18th 12:46 AM]
A makeover! :D
[Sent: Oct 18th 12:47 AM]
sure jus hlp ur mama
[Received: Oct 18th 12:47 AM]
Coming!
Finland sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket and wiping his mouth with his sleeve to remove any traces of things he didn’t want his daughter and her best friend to see.
Not even a minute later and heard giggling and footsteps. He smiled at the blonde pigtails that bounced in his view.
“Hey Mama!” Sealand chirped happily, scooping one of Finland’s arms over her shoulder. Latvia timidly approached Finland’s other side, and he tossed his arm over her shoulder, making her yelp.
“Thank you two.” Finland said, stumbling to his feet.
“What happened to your face? Did you fight with Uncle Demark? You know that Papa gets irritated when you and Uncle Denmark fight because she thinks she’s the only one that can handle Uncle Denmark in a fistfight and she probably has a point because your eye is one entire giant swell and Aunt Norge is probably the one who really handles Uncle Denmark anyway and by the way you smell sort of bad-“
Finland laughed and dropped a sloppy kiss on Sea’s forehead.
“M’lil tattletale.” He mumbled fondly as the trio made it up the first flight up steps.
“But your eye messes up our plans!” Sealand continued unabashedly. “We can probably cover it, though, but I’ll have to sneak in to your room and swipe Papa’s concealer-“
“Papa doesn’t like it when you take her things without asking.” Finland reminded in a drunken sing-song.
“Yeah, that’s true but it’s for you and Papa melts when it comes to you. Why doesn’t she melt when it comes to me?” Sealand pouted.
“She does.” Finland corrected. “But not to your face because we don’t want you to be a brat.”
Sealand pouted. “I’m not a brat!”
Latvia sighed, very glad that they were almost to the fifth floor.
“But anyway, I guess I’ll ask Papa if I can borrow her concealer and if she says no I’ll take it anyway and we can make you pretty!” Sealand clapped her hands excitedly.
“Mm?” Finland intoned. “You’re already pretty.”
“No, Mama. You.”
Finland blinked. “Oooh.”
Sealand and Latvia giggled excitedly.
The trio quietly snuck into the apartment, making their way to Sealand’s bedroom miraculously unnoticed. Latvia and Sealand deposited Finland on Sealand’s bright blue bedspread, and Latvia began to root through nail polish colors and Sealand jogged out of the room, most likely to go pester Sve with questions about concealer.
Finland shrugged, as he was finally up those damn steps. Damn steps. He decided that maybe Sve should buy an elevator. That way, when he was drunk, he wouldn’t have to climb the steps. That was a fucking fantastic idea-a drunk elevator, that had little stink-proof vomit-bags if you needed them and maybe even a bar so you could down a shot or two while going up to your room.
PERFECT INVENTION. Finland was such a genius. He basked in his brilliance for a few minutes, ignoring the giggles around him.
“Okay Mama!” Sealand’s perky reply brought him back to his senses. “Which color do you like better?” Sealand held up two pink little bottle things.
Finland eyed them curiously. “There’s a difference?”
Sealand and Latvia giggled. “Yes, Mama. This one is I’m Not Really a Waitress and this one is You’re a Pisa Work!”
Finland blinked. “What… what?” He made sure to censor himself, because good Mamas didn’t curse in front of their sweet little impressionable daughters, especially ones that were tattletales and would most likely tell their Papas.
“Pink, Mama! We’re going to do your nails!” Sealand cheered, Latvia giggled behind her. “Latvia is going to do them because she’s the best at nails and I’m going to do your make-up and you’re going to look fabulous and maybe Papa will let us play dress up?” Sealand got a dreamy look on her face. “You’d look great in purple, Mama!”
Finland belatedly realized that perhaps this had been a bad idea, but you know what? He didn’t really care. He was drunk and it was making his daughter happy and you know, whatever. He’d done worse things.
“Then I need purple polish to match?” Finland questioned.
“No! You can mix and match nail colors, Mama.” Sealand rolled her eyes while instructing Finland to take off his shoes and socks. “Don’t be such a boy.”
Finland shrugged, wiggling his toes and making the two younger girls shriek.
“Your feet smell awful!” Sealand chastised. “Wait here. I’m going to get Papa’s perfume.”
“Ask first!” Finland attempted to be parental, but Sealand was already gone.
Latvia ignored Sealand’s behavior and got to work painting the nails of Finland’s left hand.
“What color did you decide?”
“I’m Not Really a Waitress.” Latvia mumbled, concentrating on keeping her little hand steady. “It will look good with your complexion.”
“Alright.” Finland let the girl work.
Sealand dashed back into the room, holding a glass bottle in her hand. “This kind smells the best!” She promised. “Papa lets me wear it sometimes when we go to fancy things.”
“Oh.” Latvia whispered, a bit jealous.
“You can have some too!” Sealand decided, and began to spray the perfume about the room excessively. “And while I was in Mama and Papa’s room I grabbed one of Papa’s old purple robe-dress things.”
She dropped the garment on her bed next to her drunken Mama, and clasped her hands together excitedly.
“Face time!” She chirped. “Concealer first, to hide your mega ugly bruise.”
“From gravity.” Finland explained.
“Save your excuses for Papa.” Sealand replied, smudging the stuff across Finland’s eye.
“Be kind with Mama’s injuries.” Finland winced and Sealand smeared the creamy stuff.
“Mama shouldn’t get into fights with Uncle Denmark.” Sealand countered, ignoring Finland’s griping. “Now foundation!”
Finland sat through an array various powders and creams and the like. He kind of knew about them, as they sat on Sweden’s side of the sink and sometimes in the morning he’d see Sweden use them before but honestly? Like he knew the difference.
There was face powder and face cream and nose cream and nose powder and what the fuck ever. There was also the pokey little stick thing with bristles and the long pokey thing that Sve used, as well?
Sealand used those, too, but they weren’t Sve’s. Sweden had broken down and taken their daughter make-up shopping, this Finland knew, because all this crap was expensive and Sweden had been a little sheepish about letting Finland do the household finances that month, but whatever. Finland didn’t care-it made his women happy, right? Right. Worth all the money.
Finland had never expected any of the stuff to be used on his person, but Sealand seemed to be having a grand time and Latvia was working on his toes now and you know what, Finland didn’t give a shit.
He wasn’t like America, who had to go out of his way to prove his manliness. No, Finland knew he was a man. He didn’t mind holding Sve’s purse while she was doing something. He didn’t mind being dragged along on shopping trips to be used as a bag-holder. He didn’t mind being sent to buy tampons.
Finland was just like that. He zoned, letting his mind wander to useless things or replaying Moomin episodes in his head.
Sealand finally pulled from his face maybe ten minutes later, Latvia peering over her shoulder in delight. Latvia seemed to be more amused than anything else, but Sealand looked proud.
Sealand handed Finland a mirror and awaited his response anxiously.
“What do you think?”
His eyelids were purple and his lips were red and he looked kind of like a clown but hell, this was his baby-girl.
“I look perfect.” Finland announced, letting the mirror fall to his lap. “Thank you both.”
“You gotta try on the dress.” Sealand urged.
“I can’t do that with two ladies in here.” Finland said. “Give me five minutes.”
Latvia and Sealand giggled some more, exiting the room and leaving Finland to contemplate the outfit they’d chosen for him.
At least it wasn’t new. Finland knew it was a favorite, though, and if he ruined it Sve might have his head.
So Finland changed into the dress thing, and since his five minutes weren’t up he decided to take another nap.
-&-&-
Sweden enjoyed girls’ nights.
Norway and England were debating magical theories in a corner of the room, each with their favored wine in hand. Iceland was being fawned over by North Italy, while France and South Italy seemed to be having an interesting conversation in which France teased the younger girl about a certain Spaniard. Russia was happily chatting with Poland, who was completely decked out in a pink cocktail dress and was sipping a strawberry daiquiri like she was on a beach.
Sweden was concentrating on being a good host, and while the nations present assured her she was fine she couldn’t help but feel something was off.
Sealand had approached her about borrowing various beauty items, and Sweden had allowed her daughter the privilege because she seemed very exuberant and had promised to take care of them.
Then Sweden heard giggling-she peeked her head into the hall and noted Latvia and Sealand giggling together outside of Sealand’s bedroom.
“What are you doing.” Sweden asked.
Latvia yelped guilty, and Sealand sent her Papa a very delighted grin.
“Oh, Papa.” She laughed, gesturing at her bedroom door. “I know you’ll be mad, but maybe this will teach him not to drink so much?”
Sweden’s eyebrows lifted in curiosity, and she cautiously opened her daughter’s bedroom.
To see Finland. In her dress. Wearing make-up and fingernail polish. Asleep on their daughter’s bed.
Sweden couldn’t stop her own giggles, She couldn’t. Her giggling dissolved into true laughter, and she whipped out her phone to take some pictures.