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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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!