“Oh. This. ” Tino thought, remembering this awkward nickname the Swede had for him, or whatever it was supposed to be. He frowned. He had been calling him that for centuries, and he’d never understood it. He used to think it was a way to demonstrate the power Sweden had over him to other countries; a more polite way of saying, “my bitch”. But he knew the other nation now, and thought it implausible: he was actually a nice guy, so, other than a joke, he had no idea what he wanted to express with that.
It made him a little angry, to be honest. Sometimes he still wondered if it was, indeed, just his way of expressing ownership. Tino was a man, not a wife, and most certainly no one’s bitch, especially not now, after kicking Russia’s behind in such a royal fashion. He looked anywhere but at the Swede when he said, “Hey. We talked about this. That’s a weird joke of yours which I don’t really get, so you’ll have to explain it, or stop making it.”
The other also looked away, and grunted. When Tino looked at him again, he was surprised to see him flustered, the frown gone, and the sadness he’d seen on his face before almost the only thing on his face.
He felt guilty, but he was also angry. He noticed that his hands shook heavily while he took the shaving foam again, but he didn’t know if it was because of anger, guilt or the tension that was so obvious between them. He sighed, and started to say “Mister Sve”, but quickly corrected himself, remembering that he was not his subordinate, “I mean, Sweden, thanks for the food, but I was about to shave, so…”
He left it open, hoping the other would catch his drift and leave. He applied the foam on his face.
“’s okay. I’ll wait” the Swede said, nearly making him drop the just picked up razor again.
Great, now he was nervous, and Sweden was back to his usual stalking self. Just as it had been in the beginning of their time together, Sweden glared while he was a shaking little mess.
He started shaving, feeling the other’s gaze on every patch of hair and foam he removed.
It was awfully embarrassing.
He normally didn’t let his mind wander, and, during the war, he frankly hadn’t had the time to think about it, but now, in this awkwardness and tension and with Tino suddenly aware again of how naked he was, he couldn’t avoid the flow of his thoughts.
They were all about Berwald.
The choice of name—Berwald, and not Sweden—is fully intentional. While they were nations (and as a nation, Finland fought to lose any kind of dependency on Sweden), they were also people, and as a person, Tino found that he couldn’t. He wanted to depend on Berwald, on a personal basis. He wanted him to be there when he was beat or when his work got to him or when someone attacked and his people were dying. Not for help to solve the conflict—Tino, Finland was strong enough to do that on his own, he needed no one to save his ass, thank you very much—but to be there.
It was quite mortifying, really. He had felt like this since… well, since always, really, but he’d just noticed it around the time of The Reformation, when he was growing up and developing a bigger consciousness of his own identity, the progressing evolution of his people reflecting on him by making him be able to think about himself, too.
Before he knew it, he had one hell of a crush on his silent companion. He was tall, looming and creepy, true; yet there were times where he was so gentle it was disconcerting, and the few times he’d seen him smile had been enough to stir something deep within him, to make him want to be there to see every single smile of his and provoke them, too.
Telling him would have been the logical course of action, of course; yet he did no such thing. Mostly, the reason was that he didn’t know how much Berwald really reflected on being more than just Sweden: it was commonly a taboo for a nation to talk about it. Not many humans knew about their existence as anthropomorphic allegories of their folk, but the few who did, mostly their bosses, put two and two together and came to the conclusion that it could be harming to the people if the nation was to stop seeing itself as such.
A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (3/4)
Just thinking about it would have to be fine, because to forbid thoughts was quite unrealistic (which did not keep many from trying), but admitting it to someone else was not allowed.
He couldn’t go to him as Finland, because it would mean that he truly wanted to become one with his country, letting go of his traditions and language, and he was proud; but he couldn’t go to him as Tino, either, because he didn’t know if Berwald could even return his feelings. So he kept silent throughout the centuries, until Russia decided to destroy their little whatever-it-was (friendship? Family?) and took him away, leaving a very shaken Mr. Sweden behind.
Now, after his independence, the feelings that had never really left resurged with violence. His people seemed to have something against the Swedes all of a sudden, but Tino felt it even stronger than before: love. It was embarrassing and stupid, but he hadn’t chosen it, and it was there. When he’d seen Sweden, who wasn’t even supposed to be there, arrive with his volunteers, his heart had made a somersault. He was quick to repress it, though; war was war, he couldn’t be anything but Finland, and Berwald… he was probably just there as a metaphor of the Swedes who weren’t so keen on the neutrality.
He was so absorbed in his musings about the Swede that it was quite a pull towards reality, an unexpected slap in the face, when he slipped a bit with his razor and cut through his skin. It wasn’t deep, it didn’t even hurt too much; he normally wouldn’t even have complied, but it was so sudden that he gasped.
“TINO!”
He heard the cry on his side and saw the Swede jump, but couldn’t believe what he’d just said.
It had been his name.
His human name.
The one they weren’t allowed to use with each other.
This time, he did drop the razor. He stared at Sweden, Berwald, a flush spreading on his cheeks again, as red as the blood that trickled down his throat, where his heart was caught at the moment. Berwald stared too, worry in his face, for the blood, but also insecurity for what he’d just done. His face was even redder.
They stood in silence and just looked at each other, until Tino found the strength to mutter, “Um. I should f-finish.”
Berwald returned to his usual, unemotional frown, retrieving Tino’s razor; yet when the smaller extended his hand to take it from him, he didn’t hand it over. “I’ll do it”, he provided as an explanation. Tino was too dazed to object.
The Swede dabbed a towel in water and gave it to Tino, so he could press it against his cut. Then, while the Finn was applying a small piece of toilet paper on it so it would stop bleeding, he cleaned the razor and positioned himself behind him.
Tino closed his eyes, his mind too overwhelmed to function fully. Finland wanted to open his eyes and supervise Sweden, not trusting him with a razor on his throat, but Tino knew who he was leaning into, and couldn’t resist. Not after his name had been called out like that, not after seeing that expression and that blush. He just wanted to think and to lean back and relax in the other’s hands.
The blade was sharp, yet it merely ghosted over his skin. It wasn’t as intense as the heat that was pressed against his back, and it was over before he could register it.
He didn’t open his eyes and didn’t pull away. Berwald let the razor drop in the sink, confirming that he was done. He took another damp towel and cleaned his face. He waited, but Tino still didn’t move, pressed against him, shaking slightly. His hands were clenched to fists, his breath quick.
He was waiting, too. Waiting to see how long it would take until Berwald moved away on his own accord. Or until he said that he was sorry. Or until he just went off to wait for him in the kitchen.
The tender voice against his ear hadn’t been what he’d expected.
“’m done, Tino”.
A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
He had felt naked before, but now he felt even more exposed, he felt open, almost raw: at the mention of his name in that deep voiced murmur, the part of his anatomy the towel was just struggling to cover had… reacted.
Tino opened his eyes in shock, terrified of his own body. The entire moment, with its tension and its warmth and the memory of his name, had been arousing, but the fact that just the second mention of it, the confirmation that it had been real, was able to get him hard, scared him.
This was unfamiliar territory. His eyes met with the immense blush of his reflection; he looked every bit as aroused as he was, and this made him anxious. He saw Berwald staring at him through the mirror. He bit his lip, averting his gaze.
Behind him he could hear the other’s breath hitch and catch in his throat in a chortled gasp. Tino felt his hands on his shoulders, they seemed to be trembling… but just when he wanted to look at him in the mirror again, the taller man grunted and stormed out.
He was left there, confused, aroused, a tight feeling in his chest.
When he heard the front door to his house shut, he sank to the floor, towel falling off his hips then.
He masturbated, fast and desperate and alone, ghosting his hands over his freshly shaved face.
They could never speak of this again.
Happy Ending: one day, they do speak about it again. Quick explanation: this has been written for a long, long time. I saw the request and there was this plotbunny and I couldn’t shoot it… but then someone else filled it and I hadn’t finished and I was depressed, so, uh, I left this lying around on my computer for a while. Today I found it and thought, fff, what the heck.
It contains angst and some sort of romance and sorta theory of nations and too much plot for this request, but, uh, well. It’s also not as cool as the above fills, and that is not just me fishing for compliments, but actually appreciating the Russia fill a lot because it’s fantabulastic. The Canada fill is sadly short, though! can you tell that the original version wasn’t going to end like this, but with them having sex? Lololol *shrug* I just… the OP didn’t request that so I cut that scene and ended it like this instead. There’s half written porn of it on my computer, though.
Re: A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
How did you make shaving so DEEP anon???? That's some scary talent right there. I like the depth you went into on using their human names and what it would mean for two nations to be together. It was really nice. Thanks for a great fill!
Re: A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
Ahhh, my heart ;_; That was so bittersweet and lovely and profound, and you introduced some interesting concepts about the nature of their identities as anthropomorphic nations, and ahhhhh~ As much as I wanted to see them acknowledge their feelings for each other, this actually seems a fitting ending for it. Thank you for a really kickass fill, anon!
Re: A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
I'm relieved I actually managed to get my point across--most of the time I felt like what I was writing wouldn't make sense to anyone else.
The original ending was actually Tino deciding to nut up or shut up and saying "Berwald" while going after him and they pretty much jumped each other in the hallway, but this is more appropriate xD
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A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (2/4)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-14 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)It made him a little angry, to be honest. Sometimes he still wondered if it was, indeed, just his way of expressing ownership. Tino was a man, not a wife, and most certainly no one’s bitch, especially not now, after kicking Russia’s behind in such a royal fashion. He looked anywhere but at the Swede when he said, “Hey. We talked about this. That’s a weird joke of yours which I don’t really get, so you’ll have to explain it, or stop making it.”
The other also looked away, and grunted. When Tino looked at him again, he was surprised to see him flustered, the frown gone, and the sadness he’d seen on his face before almost the only thing on his face.
He felt guilty, but he was also angry. He noticed that his hands shook heavily while he took the shaving foam again, but he didn’t know if it was because of anger, guilt or the tension that was so obvious between them. He sighed, and started to say “Mister Sve”, but quickly corrected himself, remembering that he was not his subordinate, “I mean, Sweden, thanks for the food, but I was about to shave, so…”
He left it open, hoping the other would catch his drift and leave. He applied the foam on his face.
“’s okay. I’ll wait” the Swede said, nearly making him drop the just picked up razor again.
Great, now he was nervous, and Sweden was back to his usual stalking self. Just as it had been in the beginning of their time together, Sweden glared while he was a shaking little mess.
He started shaving, feeling the other’s gaze on every patch of hair and foam he removed.
It was awfully embarrassing.
He normally didn’t let his mind wander, and, during the war, he frankly hadn’t had the time to think about it, but now, in this awkwardness and tension and with Tino suddenly aware again of how naked he was, he couldn’t avoid the flow of his thoughts.
They were all about Berwald.
The choice of name—Berwald, and not Sweden—is fully intentional. While they were nations (and as a nation, Finland fought to lose any kind of dependency on Sweden), they were also people, and as a person, Tino found that he couldn’t. He wanted to depend on Berwald, on a personal basis. He wanted him to be there when he was beat or when his work got to him or when someone attacked and his people were dying. Not for help to solve the conflict—Tino, Finland was strong enough to do that on his own, he needed no one to save his ass, thank you very much—but to be there.
It was quite mortifying, really. He had felt like this since… well, since always, really, but he’d just noticed it around the time of The Reformation, when he was growing up and developing a bigger consciousness of his own identity, the progressing evolution of his people reflecting on him by making him be able to think about himself, too.
Before he knew it, he had one hell of a crush on his silent companion. He was tall, looming and creepy, true; yet there were times where he was so gentle it was disconcerting, and the few times he’d seen him smile had been enough to stir something deep within him, to make him want to be there to see every single smile of his and provoke them, too.
Telling him would have been the logical course of action, of course; yet he did no such thing. Mostly, the reason was that he didn’t know how much Berwald really reflected on being more than just Sweden: it was commonly a taboo for a nation to talk about it. Not many humans knew about their existence as anthropomorphic allegories of their folk, but the few who did, mostly their bosses, put two and two together and came to the conclusion that it could be harming to the people if the nation was to stop seeing itself as such.
A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (3/4)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-14 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)He couldn’t go to him as Finland, because it would mean that he truly wanted to become one with his country, letting go of his traditions and language, and he was proud; but he couldn’t go to him as Tino, either, because he didn’t know if Berwald could even return his feelings. So he kept silent throughout the centuries, until Russia decided to destroy their little whatever-it-was (friendship? Family?) and took him away, leaving a very shaken Mr. Sweden behind.
Now, after his independence, the feelings that had never really left resurged with violence. His people seemed to have something against the Swedes all of a sudden, but Tino felt it even stronger than before: love. It was embarrassing and stupid, but he hadn’t chosen it, and it was there. When he’d seen Sweden, who wasn’t even supposed to be there, arrive with his volunteers, his heart had made a somersault. He was quick to repress it, though; war was war, he couldn’t be anything but Finland, and Berwald… he was probably just there as a metaphor of the Swedes who weren’t so keen on the neutrality.
He was so absorbed in his musings about the Swede that it was quite a pull towards reality, an unexpected slap in the face, when he slipped a bit with his razor and cut through his skin. It wasn’t deep, it didn’t even hurt too much; he normally wouldn’t even have complied, but it was so sudden that he gasped.
“TINO!”
He heard the cry on his side and saw the Swede jump, but couldn’t believe what he’d just said.
It had been his name.
His human name.
The one they weren’t allowed to use with each other.
This time, he did drop the razor. He stared at Sweden, Berwald, a flush spreading on his cheeks again, as red as the blood that trickled down his throat, where his heart was caught at the moment. Berwald stared too, worry in his face, for the blood, but also insecurity for what he’d just done. His face was even redder.
They stood in silence and just looked at each other, until Tino found the strength to mutter, “Um. I should f-finish.”
Berwald returned to his usual, unemotional frown, retrieving Tino’s razor; yet when the smaller extended his hand to take it from him, he didn’t hand it over. “I’ll do it”, he provided as an explanation. Tino was too dazed to object.
The Swede dabbed a towel in water and gave it to Tino, so he could press it against his cut. Then, while the Finn was applying a small piece of toilet paper on it so it would stop bleeding, he cleaned the razor and positioned himself behind him.
Tino closed his eyes, his mind too overwhelmed to function fully. Finland wanted to open his eyes and supervise Sweden, not trusting him with a razor on his throat, but Tino knew who he was leaning into, and couldn’t resist. Not after his name had been called out like that, not after seeing that expression and that blush. He just wanted to think and to lean back and relax in the other’s hands.
The blade was sharp, yet it merely ghosted over his skin. It wasn’t as intense as the heat that was pressed against his back, and it was over before he could register it.
He didn’t open his eyes and didn’t pull away. Berwald let the razor drop in the sink, confirming that he was done. He took another damp towel and cleaned his face. He waited, but Tino still didn’t move, pressed against him, shaking slightly. His hands were clenched to fists, his breath quick.
He was waiting, too. Waiting to see how long it would take until Berwald moved away on his own accord. Or until he said that he was sorry. Or until he just went off to wait for him in the kitchen.
The tender voice against his ear hadn’t been what he’d expected.
“’m done, Tino”.
A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-14 09:25 pm (UTC)(link)Tino opened his eyes in shock, terrified of his own body. The entire moment, with its tension and its warmth and the memory of his name, had been arousing, but the fact that just the second mention of it, the confirmation that it had been real, was able to get him hard, scared him.
This was unfamiliar territory. His eyes met with the immense blush of his reflection; he looked every bit as aroused as he was, and this made him anxious. He saw Berwald staring at him through the mirror. He bit his lip, averting his gaze.
Behind him he could hear the other’s breath hitch and catch in his throat in a chortled gasp. Tino felt his hands on his shoulders, they seemed to be trembling… but just when he wanted to look at him in the mirror again, the taller man grunted and stormed out.
He was left there, confused, aroused, a tight feeling in his chest.
When he heard the front door to his house shut, he sank to the floor, towel falling off his hips then.
He masturbated, fast and desperate and alone, ghosting his hands over his freshly shaved face.
They could never speak of this again.
Happy Ending: one day, they do speak about it again.
Quick explanation: this has been written for a long, long time. I saw the request and there was this plotbunny and I couldn’t shoot it… but then someone else filled it and I hadn’t finished and I was depressed, so, uh, I left this lying around on my computer for a while. Today I found it and thought, fff, what the heck.
It contains angst and some sort of romance and sorta theory of nations and too much plot for this request, but, uh, well. It’s also not as cool as the above fills, and that is not just me fishing for compliments, but actually appreciating the Russia fill a lot because it’s fantabulastic. The Canada fill is sadly short, though! can you tell that the original version wasn’t going to end like this, but with them having sex? Lololol *shrug* I just… the OP didn’t request that so I cut that scene and ended it like this instead. There’s half written porn of it on my computer, though.
Re: A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-15 06:42 am (UTC)(link)Re: A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-15 10:49 am (UTC)(link)(Wait that sounded worse than I wanted--) Anyway, thanks for your kind comment! It means a lot!
Re: A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-15 09:01 am (UTC)(link)Re: A quick recreational activity after a long period of war (4/4)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-15 10:54 am (UTC)(link)The original ending was actually Tino deciding to nut up or shut up and saying "Berwald" while going after him and they pretty much jumped each other in the hallway, but this is more appropriate xD