Ah- this is Author!Anon's first time posting on the kink meme- so if I didn't do something quite right please tell me!
I'm sorry I couldn't write you Norway/Canada OP, as much as I love those two together, I can't write it properly. I hope Sweden/Canada is good enough for now!
By the end of this I should have the other two bonuses filled. Hopefully. You'll have the next part ASAP.
-------- A soft groan escaped from the old door as it swung open at the tug of a young man's fingers. Two figures stepped inside the modest doorway of a remote farmhouse, fingers interlocked and bundled in heavy winter clothing. The shorter of the two leaned back against the door, shutting it and letting out a soft sigh. His free hand reached up, sliding off a simple red toque sporting a white maple leaf on it. Tossing it aside unceremoniously, he quickly pulled off his jacket, hanging it on a peg, and glanced up at the other, also shedding his outer layers of clothing.
Smiling softly, he pulled off his own gloves with his teeth, watching as his companion stepped out of his boots and into the house. For a moment he puzzled over the fact that his gloves remained on, but then dismissed the thought, deciding that he must just still have cold hands.
A few minutes later, standing in the kitchen with mugs of steaming tea in their hands, the two were talking, low chuckles occasionally rolling from the taller's chest, warm laughter exploding from the lips of the smaller. The two, both blond, one with startling glacial blue eyes that seemed eternally frigid but hiding a warm glow, the other with gentle jasper eyes which caged a whirling blizzard, smelled of ice and sweat and faintly of blood, the traces of it still evident around the nose of the taller.
"Hey- Sweden- y'know, I've been thinking, I mean- we've played hockey like this for years. And uh- Er...." The voice trailed off, warm purple eyes drifting to the floor, "wow this is going to sound odd- especially since uh- I just gave you a nose bleed on the ice- sorry again by the way-"
The other, Sweden, perhaps sometimes Berwald, motioned for him to wait, to stop his speech for a moment. Looking down onto the other, he seemed almost amused by how flustered he was. "You're going to get off topic again, Matthieu. Get on with what you were trying to say." His words seemed to be oddly clipped sometimes, vowels sometimes brushed over and almost overlooked, lacking stresses that should have been there.
Were it not for the lingering redness on his face from the icy chill outside, Matthieu- Canada, really- would surely have been finding his cheeks gaining colour by now. "Oh- sorry- right. I was trying to say that maybe you'd like to try being...more than friends." The way that his gaze fell to the slate grey tiles of the ground again suggested a lack of confidence in this proposal, and yet the way his head lifted again, fire and ice glittering in an intertwining dance within irises of soft lilac, spoke of determination and certainty.
For a moment which stretched for an eternity, the house was heavy with silence, the nearly inaudible breathing of the two nations and the ever-present hum of a furnace the only sounds. Again it was Canada to speak, voice tamed and laced with disappointment, but not harbouring shock or anger, "Oh- I understand that you don't want to- I mean, I wouldn't force you into anything, it wouldn't really be- fair to..." His voice trailed off as a fabric encased hand landed gently on his shoulder.
"Yes." Short and simple came the word, and yet carrying so much with it. A confirmation, a promise of companionship. The promise that even in a world where Matthieu would make friends only to watch them sicken and die, he would have a constant, something more than a friend to lean on and love for at least a few years- hopefully decades, centuries, even. It was a promise that he wouldn't be alone any longer.
"I- yes? You- you said yes- thank you- thank you so much Berwald." He felt a gloved hand cup his face, and suddenly there were lips pressing against his own, gentle, almost as though the other were fearful the North American nation might shatter were too much pressure applied. The kiss they shared then was soft and warm and fresh- a clean beginning, the beginnings of what both hoped would be a smooth relationship.
When the two pulled apart, the Scandinavian standing up straight again, the Canadian's gaze lingered for a moment on the other's face, and then on the hand now pulling away from his face. "Berwald-? Why do you wear gloves?"
"That's for another time, Matthieu. When I'm ready. When you're ready."
---
I apologize if either of them doesn't seem quite right, Author!Anon isn't the greatest at understanding characters that aren't her own!
Not only have I never seen Sweden/Canada before (and may I say, you're doing an excellent job of both of them), but this is a lovely lead-in. Sweden's gentle hesitation, Canada longing for a constant companion, it's all just so sweet and - I hesitate to say lovely yet again, but it is.
Although, now I'm going to be craving SweCan.... Oh well.
I love it, anon, and will be eagerly awaiting the continuation!
Another day, another week, another month, another year. The two couldn't have said how long they had been together, often too focused on making one another happy to keep track. That wasn't to say they never fought, their fights were with exchanged words and glowers and occasional slaps. Their apologies were heartfelt and honest, or hesitant and uncertain.
Ups and downs certainly characterized the two, but still it was Sweden's hands which fascinated Canada.
---
Soft rose rays of light filtered into the sky, a pastel pink to cover the west, shot through with brilliant streaks of golden fire and crimson undertones. Quietly the duo sat on the front doorstep of Matthieu's old farmhouse, gazes fixated on the sky. "They're better after a storm," commented the younger, his weight resting on his left hand, small splinters of wood pricking into the pads of slightly callous hands, "if it was nice out earlier it wouldn't be this bright."
A soft chuckle came from the other, cerulean eyes flickering to meet jasper ones for a moment, before returning to the sky. "You say that now, but s'pretty clear you don't like storms."
A frown tugged at the corner of the Canadian's lips, shifting his right hand to rest on top of the gloved hand of his companion. "I- no, that's not true. I mean, I- yeah, okay. I don't like storms. But it's not like they'll stop happening any time soon. At least they mean its getting warm out."
Berwald shook his head, dismissing the conversation wordlessly. For several moments more, a comfortable silence lingered, before he felt his hand being lifted as the smaller straightened up a bit and cradled it in his own.
"Is it okay if I..." Trailing off, he gave a gentle pull at the fabric of the glove, glancing up at the other for confirmation.
"Don't see why you need to, s'just a hand, Matt."
Not hearing anything to say he couldn't, the man gave another experimental tug, trying to ease the material off of his hand. He stopped only when the other spoke up. "Matthieu, stop."
"Fine then- would you at least tell me why you won't take them off? It's summer Ber, they can't be comfortable."
"It shouldn't matter to you." His voice had taken on a slight edge, not venomous or sharp, but holding a warning in its tone.
The other pressed his mouth into a thin line, impatience ringing in his voice, "It does matter- I want to know what you're trying to hide."
"I'm not hiding them from you. I'm protecting you from them."
Within a minute the North American nation had disappeared inside, white screen door swinging shut with a definite bang behind him. After reflecting for a moment on the other's short temper, Sweden rose, heavy footsteps carrying him to the road for a walk, wanting to give space to the clearly irritated Canadian.
When he came back, it was to Matthieu on the couch, calmly flipping through the pages of a novel. His footfall alerted the seated nation to his presence and his eyes rose, the book set onto an end table out of the way. "I still want to see your hands." His voice held a note of determination, a statement that he wasn't about to drop the subject, but also a tone suggesting apology, perhaps for his insistence, perhaps for storming inside as he had, perhaps for both.
The Swede rolled his eyes, settling beside him on the chesterfield and pulling off one glove, hesitantly, and then the other with a little more confidence. "You really are bull-headed."
A hum was the only answer he received. One finger ran slowly across the back of one hand, lingering on faint scars, faded by time, nearly forgotten by history. "Why do you think you need to protect me?"
His hand was lifted into the lap of the Canadian, caressed delicately by thumbs. "There's blood on my hands, don't want it to get onto yours." Momentarily he thought back to centuries long gone, to men dead at his feet, friend and foe alike. To times he had bled, defeated. Times he had smiled, victorious.
His thoughts were interrupted by pressure on the back of his hand, small circles massaged into large palms, and a tentative kiss to each of his fingertips. "You can't protect me from your history, and you don't need to. I've seen war too. Disaster too. we're not all that different, and I'm not a kid any longer." A wispy smile touched his lips, broadening into something more substantial. "I'm not afraid of what your hands have done."
He took his hand again, setting it back on its owner's lap, and picking up the other one. Fingers traced the outlines of thin cuts and wide burns long healed, lips placed lingering kisses over callouses and veins. His index finger dragged along one scar, wrapping around the heel of his hand and ending just shy of his wrist.
"I'm sorry, didn't mean to treat you like one, I only meant-" his words were cut off by a kiss, soft and slow and yet full of certainty. When it ended, the only thing he received was a soft smile.
"It's alright."
-----
Author!Anon here! I'm sorry it took a few days for the update, I had some difficulty with dialogue here, and I'm still not happy with it.
Not sure how many more parts this'll be, not too many, I believe. There's no smut coming, it's not something I'm comfortable with or good at writing, honestly.
I'll try to be quick with the next update!
OP: Thank you so much for your kind words- I'm sorry if you're craving SweCan now- it's silly how hard it is to find any of decent quality.
I love the dynamic of the characters - Canada's stubbornness and Sweden's quiet understanding and the way their relationship isn't perfect and yet it's so, so adorable! And I really think that the sweet simplicity of everything about this fill might be ruined if you did add smut.
It is silly. There really are far too few SweCan stories out there. I'll probably end up just reading this one over and over again to make up for it. :)
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Sweden/Canada - 1a/? - The Gloves Aren't Off
(Anonymous) 2013-02-06 04:11 pm (UTC)(link)I'm sorry I couldn't write you Norway/Canada OP, as much as I love those two together, I can't write it properly. I hope Sweden/Canada is good enough for now!
By the end of this I should have the other two bonuses filled. Hopefully. You'll have the next part ASAP.
--------
A soft groan escaped from the old door as it swung open at the tug of a young man's fingers. Two figures stepped inside the modest doorway of a remote farmhouse, fingers interlocked and bundled in heavy winter clothing. The shorter of the two leaned back against the door, shutting it and letting out a soft sigh. His free hand reached up, sliding off a simple red toque sporting a white maple leaf on it. Tossing it aside unceremoniously, he quickly pulled off his jacket, hanging it on a peg, and glanced up at the other, also shedding his outer layers of clothing.
Smiling softly, he pulled off his own gloves with his teeth, watching as his companion stepped out of his boots and into the house. For a moment he puzzled over the fact that his gloves remained on, but then dismissed the thought, deciding that he must just still have cold hands.
A few minutes later, standing in the kitchen with mugs of steaming tea in their hands, the two were talking, low chuckles occasionally rolling from the taller's chest, warm laughter exploding from the lips of the smaller. The two, both blond, one with startling glacial blue eyes that seemed eternally frigid but hiding a warm glow, the other with gentle jasper eyes which caged a whirling blizzard, smelled of ice and sweat and faintly of blood, the traces of it still evident around the nose of the taller.
"Hey- Sweden- y'know, I've been thinking, I mean- we've played hockey like this for years. And uh- Er...." The voice trailed off, warm purple eyes drifting to the floor, "wow this is going to sound odd- especially since uh- I just gave you a nose bleed on the ice- sorry again by the way-"
The other, Sweden, perhaps sometimes Berwald, motioned for him to wait, to stop his speech for a moment. Looking down onto the other, he seemed almost amused by how flustered he was. "You're going to get off topic again, Matthieu. Get on with what you were trying to say." His words seemed to be oddly clipped sometimes, vowels sometimes brushed over and almost overlooked, lacking stresses that should have been there.
Were it not for the lingering redness on his face from the icy chill outside, Matthieu- Canada, really- would surely have been finding his cheeks gaining colour by now. "Oh- sorry- right. I was trying to say that maybe you'd like to try being...more than friends." The way that his gaze fell to the slate grey tiles of the ground again suggested a lack of confidence in this proposal, and yet the way his head lifted again, fire and ice glittering in an intertwining dance within irises of soft lilac, spoke of determination and certainty.
Sweden/Canada - 1b/? - The Gloves Aren't Off
(Anonymous) 2013-02-06 04:17 pm (UTC)(link)"Yes." Short and simple came the word, and yet carrying so much with it. A confirmation, a promise of companionship. The promise that even in a world where Matthieu would make friends only to watch them sicken and die, he would have a constant, something more than a friend to lean on and love for at least a few years- hopefully decades, centuries, even. It was a promise that he wouldn't be alone any longer.
"I- yes? You- you said yes- thank you- thank you so much Berwald." He felt a gloved hand cup his face, and suddenly there were lips pressing against his own, gentle, almost as though the other were fearful the North American nation might shatter were too much pressure applied. The kiss they shared then was soft and warm and fresh- a clean beginning, the beginnings of what both hoped would be a smooth relationship.
When the two pulled apart, the Scandinavian standing up straight again, the Canadian's gaze lingered for a moment on the other's face, and then on the hand now pulling away from his face. "Berwald-? Why do you wear gloves?"
"That's for another time, Matthieu. When I'm ready. When you're ready."
---
I apologize if either of them doesn't seem quite right, Author!Anon isn't the greatest at understanding characters that aren't her own!
Re: Sweden/Canada - 1b/? - The Gloves Aren't Off
(Anonymous) 2013-02-06 11:08 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Sweden/Canada - 1b/? - The Gloves Aren't Off
(Anonymous) 2013-02-06 11:15 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Sweden/Canada - 1b/? - The Gloves Aren't Off
(Anonymous) 2013-02-07 12:34 am (UTC)(link)OP!
(Anonymous) 2013-02-07 05:04 am (UTC)(link)Not only have I never seen Sweden/Canada before (and may I say, you're doing an excellent job of both of them), but this is a lovely lead-in. Sweden's gentle hesitation, Canada longing for a constant companion, it's all just so sweet and - I hesitate to say lovely yet again, but it is.
Although, now I'm going to be craving SweCan.... Oh well.
I love it, anon, and will be eagerly awaiting the continuation!
Sweden/Canada - 2a/? - The Gloves Aren't Off
(Anonymous) 2013-02-09 07:13 pm (UTC)(link)Ups and downs certainly characterized the two, but still it was Sweden's hands which fascinated Canada.
---
Soft rose rays of light filtered into the sky, a pastel pink to cover the west, shot through with brilliant streaks of golden fire and crimson undertones. Quietly the duo sat on the front doorstep of Matthieu's old farmhouse, gazes fixated on the sky. "They're better after a storm," commented the younger, his weight resting on his left hand, small splinters of wood pricking into the pads of slightly callous hands, "if it was nice out earlier it wouldn't be this bright."
A soft chuckle came from the other, cerulean eyes flickering to meet jasper ones for a moment, before returning to the sky. "You say that now, but s'pretty clear you don't like storms."
A frown tugged at the corner of the Canadian's lips, shifting his right hand to rest on top of the gloved hand of his companion. "I- no, that's not true. I mean, I- yeah, okay. I don't like storms. But it's not like they'll stop happening any time soon. At least they mean its getting warm out."
Berwald shook his head, dismissing the conversation wordlessly. For several moments more, a comfortable silence lingered, before he felt his hand being lifted as the smaller straightened up a bit and cradled it in his own.
"Is it okay if I..." Trailing off, he gave a gentle pull at the fabric of the glove, glancing up at the other for confirmation.
"Don't see why you need to, s'just a hand, Matt."
Not hearing anything to say he couldn't, the man gave another experimental tug, trying to ease the material off of his hand. He stopped only when the other spoke up. "Matthieu, stop."
"Fine then- would you at least tell me why you won't take them off? It's summer Ber, they can't be comfortable."
"It shouldn't matter to you." His voice had taken on a slight edge, not venomous or sharp, but holding a warning in its tone.
The other pressed his mouth into a thin line, impatience ringing in his voice, "It does matter- I want to know what you're trying to hide."
"I'm not hiding them from you. I'm protecting you from them."
Within a minute the North American nation had disappeared inside, white screen door swinging shut with a definite bang behind him. After reflecting for a moment on the other's short temper, Sweden rose, heavy footsteps carrying him to the road for a walk, wanting to give space to the clearly irritated Canadian.
---
Re: Sweden/Canada - 2b/? - The Gloves Aren't Off
(Anonymous) 2013-02-09 07:17 pm (UTC)(link)The Swede rolled his eyes, settling beside him on the chesterfield and pulling off one glove, hesitantly, and then the other with a little more confidence. "You really are bull-headed."
A hum was the only answer he received. One finger ran slowly across the back of one hand, lingering on faint scars, faded by time, nearly forgotten by history. "Why do you think you need to protect me?"
His hand was lifted into the lap of the Canadian, caressed delicately by thumbs. "There's blood on my hands, don't want it to get onto yours." Momentarily he thought back to centuries long gone, to men dead at his feet, friend and foe alike. To times he had bled, defeated. Times he had smiled, victorious.
His thoughts were interrupted by pressure on the back of his hand, small circles massaged into large palms, and a tentative kiss to each of his fingertips. "You can't protect me from your history, and you don't need to. I've seen war too. Disaster too. we're not all that different, and I'm not a kid any longer." A wispy smile touched his lips, broadening into something more substantial. "I'm not afraid of what your hands have done."
He took his hand again, setting it back on its owner's lap, and picking up the other one. Fingers traced the outlines of thin cuts and wide burns long healed, lips placed lingering kisses over callouses and veins. His index finger dragged along one scar, wrapping around the heel of his hand and ending just shy of his wrist.
"I'm sorry, didn't mean to treat you like one, I only meant-" his words were cut off by a kiss, soft and slow and yet full of certainty. When it ended, the only thing he received was a soft smile.
"It's alright."
-----
Author!Anon here! I'm sorry it took a few days for the update, I had some difficulty with dialogue here, and I'm still not happy with it.
Not sure how many more parts this'll be, not too many, I believe. There's no smut coming, it's not something I'm comfortable with or good at writing, honestly.
I'll try to be quick with the next update!
OP: Thank you so much for your kind words- I'm sorry if you're craving SweCan now- it's silly how hard it is to find any of decent quality.
OP!
(Anonymous) 2013-02-13 01:23 am (UTC)(link)I love the dynamic of the characters - Canada's stubbornness and Sweden's quiet understanding and the way their relationship isn't perfect and yet it's so, so adorable! And I really think that the sweet simplicity of everything about this fill might be ruined if you did add smut.
It is silly. There really are far too few SweCan stories out there. I'll probably end up just reading this one over and over again to make up for it. :)
Thank you for the wonderful fill!