"This's your room," Sweden muttered, pushing open the door on the right side of the landing.
Expecting a spare room, Sealand ducked under his arm to get inside and stifled a sneeze. Then he blinked in surprise.
The room was small but not cramped, and smelled faintly of mothballs, which reminded him of England's house. Apart from that, it had nothing in common with the old mansion. Afternoon sunlight filtered into the room through a low, wide window in the corner, along with a breeze that flapped the blue-and-yellow curtains. The bed tucked under the windowsill was metal-framed with a wooden headboard, not dark wood all through, and the green blanket looked new -- not just newly-laundered after being taken out of the attic, but new, like Sweden had gone out and bought it last week.
The bookshelf at the foot of the bed looked new as well, and so did the wardrobe, and the desk opposite the blocked-up fireplace. The wood was thin and plain, but it looked sturdy. There were traces of dust and scuff-marks on the carpet, and the wallpaper was faded in places. It had probably been a storage room or something before Sweden had bought Sealand.
He wondered if Sweden would come here, or if he'd want Sealand to go to him.
"It's great," he said, meaning it. The room was nice. Sweden must have put a lot of effort into it, and he hadn't had to. It was almost like he'd been looking forward to having Sealand here, and not just in his bed.
There was a scuffling noise from near the window, and a small white dog poked its head out from under the bed. It spotted Sealand, and then barked and bounded towards them.
"Hana," Sweden said sternly.
Sealand dropped his backpack and crouched down to greet the dog. It jumped up at him and tried to lick his nose. Sealand jerked his head back with a giggle and patted it. Its fur was very soft.
"'S Hana-Tamago," Sweden said, from far over the two of them. Hana-Tamago stopped trying to climb up Sealand's shirt and bounded around him, sniffing excitedly at his legs and shoes.
"Why Hannah-Tomato?" he asked. It seemed like a weird name for a dog.
"Tamago," Sweden corrected. Sealand winced. "Dunno. Fin named her."
He stepped back out into the hall. Sealand gave Hana-Tamago one last scruff behind the ears and stood up to follow him. "Bathroom's there," Sweden said, pointing at the door across from Sealand's. He jabbed a thumb at the next door down. "'S my room." Door at the end of the hall. "Study." Hana-Tamago bounded around their feet, yapping, and Sweden bent down to scoop the dog up with one broad hand.
***
It had been a strange afternoon, but...nice. Sweden had vanished into his study for a few hours, so Sealand sat in the garden and threw sticks for Hana-Tamago, who chased them with endless doggy enthusiasm.
It was almost enough to stop Sealand from thinking about the evening.
At supper, though, there was nothing to distract him. The food was as good as it had been before, but Sealand barely tasted it. He kept one eye on the clock, watching the minutes tick on towards the inevitable with sick obsession.
He'd have to be good. Really good. He couldn't cry, not unless it turned out Sweden liked that. He'd have to do everything he could to make sure Sweden wouldn't send him back.
Where would Sweden want him?
Most of the...mostly, when England had a trade deal, Sealand went to the room of whoever he was dealing with (or he went to the library or the study, if they weren't staying the night -- he'd hated those times even more than most), and went back to his own room after. That was what he was used to. But sometimes -- some of them had preferred to come to Sealand's room, and then leave when they were done.
Sweden could go either way, he thought. He didn't want Sealand with him all night, or he wouldn't have given him his own room. And Sealand's new bed was probably too small for Sweden to fit on comfortably, so it was more likely that he'd want Sealand to go to him.
Sealand wound more spaghetti around his fork. It had been kind of Sweden to give Sealand his own room. Actually, Sweden was being...well, he was scary. But he hadn't been cruel at all. He was quiet, but he'd fed Sealand, and he hadn't seemed to mind him listening to the radio in the kitchen.
Maybe he'd be gentle. It wasn't likely, but if he wasn't gentle, Sealand thought that he might at least be straightforward, and only want sex, and not pain. That wouldn't be too bad. Some of England's trade partners were like that, and they never left Sealand bleeding, at least.
Sealand watched as Sweden got Hana-Tamago to run a figure-eight around the table-legs, and thought that it was already better, in Sweden's house.
Uneven Exchanges (Part 4)
Expecting a spare room, Sealand ducked under his arm to get inside and stifled a sneeze. Then he blinked in surprise.
The room was small but not cramped, and smelled faintly of mothballs, which reminded him of England's house. Apart from that, it had nothing in common with the old mansion. Afternoon sunlight filtered into the room through a low, wide window in the corner, along with a breeze that flapped the blue-and-yellow curtains. The bed tucked under the windowsill was metal-framed with a wooden headboard, not dark wood all through, and the green blanket looked new -- not just newly-laundered after being taken out of the attic, but new, like Sweden had gone out and bought it last week.
The bookshelf at the foot of the bed looked new as well, and so did the wardrobe, and the desk opposite the blocked-up fireplace. The wood was thin and plain, but it looked sturdy. There were traces of dust and scuff-marks on the carpet, and the wallpaper was faded in places. It had probably been a storage room or something before Sweden had bought Sealand.
He wondered if Sweden would come here, or if he'd want Sealand to go to him.
"It's great," he said, meaning it. The room was nice. Sweden must have put a lot of effort into it, and he hadn't had to. It was almost like he'd been looking forward to having Sealand here, and not just in his bed.
There was a scuffling noise from near the window, and a small white dog poked its head out from under the bed. It spotted Sealand, and then barked and bounded towards them.
"Hana," Sweden said sternly.
Sealand dropped his backpack and crouched down to greet the dog. It jumped up at him and tried to lick his nose. Sealand jerked his head back with a giggle and patted it. Its fur was very soft.
"'S Hana-Tamago," Sweden said, from far over the two of them. Hana-Tamago stopped trying to climb up Sealand's shirt and bounded around him, sniffing excitedly at his legs and shoes.
"Why Hannah-Tomato?" he asked. It seemed like a weird name for a dog.
"Tamago," Sweden corrected. Sealand winced. "Dunno. Fin named her."
He stepped back out into the hall. Sealand gave Hana-Tamago one last scruff behind the ears and stood up to follow him. "Bathroom's there," Sweden said, pointing at the door across from Sealand's. He jabbed a thumb at the next door down. "'S my room." Door at the end of the hall. "Study." Hana-Tamago bounded around their feet, yapping, and Sweden bent down to scoop the dog up with one broad hand.
***
It had been a strange afternoon, but...nice. Sweden had vanished into his study for a few hours, so Sealand sat in the garden and threw sticks for Hana-Tamago, who chased them with endless doggy enthusiasm.
It was almost enough to stop Sealand from thinking about the evening.
At supper, though, there was nothing to distract him. The food was as good as it had been before, but Sealand barely tasted it. He kept one eye on the clock, watching the minutes tick on towards the inevitable with sick obsession.
He'd have to be good. Really good. He couldn't cry, not unless it turned out Sweden liked that. He'd have to do everything he could to make sure Sweden wouldn't send him back.
Where would Sweden want him?
Most of the...mostly, when England had a trade deal, Sealand went to the room of whoever he was dealing with (or he went to the library or the study, if they weren't staying the night -- he'd hated those times even more than most), and went back to his own room after. That was what he was used to. But sometimes -- some of them had preferred to come to Sealand's room, and then leave when they were done.
Sweden could go either way, he thought. He didn't want Sealand with him all night, or he wouldn't have given him his own room. And Sealand's new bed was probably too small for Sweden to fit on comfortably, so it was more likely that he'd want Sealand to go to him.
Sealand wound more spaghetti around his fork. It had been kind of Sweden to give Sealand his own room. Actually, Sweden was being...well, he was scary. But he hadn't been cruel at all. He was quiet, but he'd fed Sealand, and he hadn't seemed to mind him listening to the radio in the kitchen.
Maybe he'd be gentle. It wasn't likely, but if he wasn't gentle, Sealand thought that he might at least be straightforward, and only want sex, and not pain. That wouldn't be too bad. Some of England's trade partners were like that, and they never left Sealand bleeding, at least.
Sealand watched as Sweden got Hana-Tamago to run a figure-eight around the table-legs, and thought that it was already better, in Sweden's house.