Chapter Text
It occurred to Finland, as he sat watching Sweden’s restless and pained sleep, that perhaps he should have noticed something amiss sooner, before the situation had progressed to this sorry state. Pressing the cold compress to Sweden’s forehead, Finland allowed himself a reprieve from self-recrimination and became determined to lay at least a fraction of the blame for this latest debacle at Sweden’s stubborn, prideful feet. “Such nonsense, he thought, his worry unabated as Sweden remained trapped in his fever dreams, “such nonsense could have been avoided if we ever actually spoke to one another”.
The candles in Sweden’s chamber had burned low during Finland’s evening vigil, the forest gone quiet in the time before night gives way to dawn, and in this stillness, listening to Sweden murmur his name, struggling to making a decision, he couldn’t help but think of what had brought them here. Doubtless, Finland believed, anyone looking in from the outside would be baffled as to how Sweden could have hidden his battle injury from Finland, widely rumored to be the injured man’s “wife”, (this, too, was dismissed by the Finn as nonsense) long enough for the wound to have gone bad.
It was true, Finland grudgingly acquiesced, that he did spend an inordinate of time with Sweden. They ate together, passed the endless days of summer and the cold of winter together, occasionally saw battle together and generally ambled along in a more or less comfortable and monotonous existence in Sweden’s house. Though Finland would never claim unhappiness with his current situation, he was safe, cared for, and generally in good company, he was also never unaware that it was Sweden’s bounty that sustained his happy little life, Sweden’s house, Sweden’s food, Sweden’s wars, Sweden’s everything. Even after the many years, so little belonged solely to him.
But back then it had been even worse.
For a time when they had first fled Denmark’s house, he had feared that he, too, would become part of the spoils of war, called “wife” and held close and tight against Sweden’s unforgiving chest at night under the ruse of “keeping warm.” Such an excuse was a little believable in the depths of a Nordic winter, Finland allowed, but he balked at the need for shared body heat in the sticky unpleasantness of summer. It was just too unseemly, all that sweat and skin bordering on displeasing to be any kind of legitimate reason. He had certainly never asked for a human blanket! And yet it was the only reason Sweden could ever come up with when questioned, his lack of creativity almost as appalling as his presumption.
For months Finland had waited, anxious and afraid, for Sweden to progress from awkward cuddling to taking what was rightfully his as conqueror. But the moment never came and as the years in Sweden’s house wore on, Finland slowly started to clear a room while Sweden was away at war. He was careful, wary of upsetting the man out of his stoicism and into preemptive action. However, if Sweden noticed the progress taking place in little room at the end of his hallway, he never said anything. If anything, he only became somehow even less communicative, all while delaying his return to the battlefields, holding Finland close when they went to bed in silence.
Finland made his move during the next of Sweden’s long absences from home, building himself a bed less sturdy and comfortable than the expansive goose down mattress he to which was accustomed. And yet, for several nights he had reveled in his own sheets (Well, he supposed, technically, they were still Sweden’s, but there was no Swede in them, making a world of difference!) until he felt Sweden’s return to his nation. His nerves began to grow at the same rate as the returning man’s progress towards home.
Would there be a scene, Finland wondered anxiously, imagining that his subtle rebellion would rouse some horrible Viking reaction. The day that Sweden was to return, he screwed what courage he had to his sticking point and promptly went early to his own bed, shivering in fear under the covers he had purloined from Sweden’s musty attic, waiting for the inevitable confrontation. As the heavy front door opened, he heard Sweden call his name in greeting, then in question when all the only response was vague echoes from the halls. He listened as Sweden climbed the stairs, perhaps with more haste than normal, swung open the door to the formerly shared bedroom, and then all fell still and quiet once more.
Finland held his breath, fingers clenched in sheets, as footsteps approached the door to his bedroom. As the moment of anticipation stretched out beyond any reasonable length of time, his fear peaked. He was on the verge of throwing open the door and throwing himself at Sweden’s feet and apologizing profusely for ever wanting something so selfish as a bed he didn’t have to share with an intimidating hulk of man, when Sweden finally spoke:
“Finland?” A question, mumbled as anything he ever said, but hesitant and seemingly nervous.
“….y—es, Sweden?” Finland replied, sitting forward in the bed, heart readying itself to leap from his chest. The silence lingered again, broken only by the thumping sound of what Finland could only guess was Sweden’s hand coming to rest on the door frame.
Eventually a reply came, almost whispered: “Ah. ‘m home. Sorry to have woken you. Night.”
And then only the sounds of retreat.
Finland listened for the slamming of Sweden’s door or even just a gentle closing, any sign to indicate how his little subversion had gone over with lord and master. But there was no sound forthcoming and after several hours of sitting anxiously awake in his bed, Finland confronted the situation as best as he knew how and crept into the hallway by candlelight. All he found was Sweden’s open door in a darkened hallway.
Sweden made no mention of the new sleeping arrangements the next morning, nor any subsequent morning that followed. After several weeks of discomfited bumbling on Finland’s part and awkward avoidance by Sweden, the tension began to fade. Their strange tango calmed into something manageable and even pleasant; through shared meals and household chores, joint ventures onto the battlefield, and a healthy dose of strong liquor on occasion, Finland found contentment in his situation. Contentment that was threatened only by the yearning looks Sweden sometimes failed to disguise and the bedroom door that was deliberately left open each night, a standing invitation unspoken by one man and unheeded by the other.
It was against this backdrop of willful ignorance that Finland had failed to notice the injury that had managed to put Sweden to sickbed.