Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Going to bars with the others was always a hassle. The idea of it is nice. Drinking, having fun with friends, putting everything on one person’s tab and leaving them to suffer with it—the works. They picked Sweden to pay for them all today, though, so he kind of hated them all a little bit.

How it worked was that Denmark invited them all out for drinks. Why would someone say no to that, right? After everyone agreed, he made the incredible decision that he so, definitely, absolutely paid last time they went out (no he didn’t) so someone else needed to pay. Then he looked at Sweden with an evilness to his soul. Greaaaat. Will that rivalry ever end? No, it won’t.

He didn’t even pick a good bar, Sweden thought as he swirled his glass around in his hand. Denmark had long since abandoned him with Norway in tow, tugging him along to do god knows what. Something about hot girls. That was doubtful, though, with how much he kept staring into Norway’s eyes like he wanted to eat him alive before making a completely brainless comment. To which, of course, Norway would laugh at like it was the funniest damn thing he’d ever heard just to see Denmark smile like an idiot as if he’d won the lottery.

They were really annoying. Sweden hated how he was stuck with them sometimes. Just a little bit.

The arm in a white sleeve next to him shot out to grab a new glass of beer. About five had already been downed by the very same sleeve by now. It was an incredible feat, honestly. They hadn’t been here for that long at all. It had probably only been an hour or two. Sooooo nice of him to abuse Sweden’s poor wallet! He almost wondered if the bastard was drinking this much on purpose. Then he remembered who he was—no, yeah, this was normal.

Finland sat next to him but left a space between the two of them. He didn’t want to actually, truly sit exactly next to him. He didn’t like him. Sweden shared the sentiment, so he didn’t really mind the unnecessary space.

However, he did wish that he could at least make conversation with him right about now. His phone was dead and his two actual friends ditched him. He didn’t even know why they invited Finland! (And not Iceland, so it wasn’t even like you could say it was a Nordic thing). Maybe it was just another bout of randomness from the Dane.

Gaaah. He liked it better when it was just the three of them, though.

Sweden took a swig of his beer that he’d been swishing around like an attention-seeking loser. Damnit. He finished it. This was his third. Maybe he shouldn’t have judged Finland for guzzling five, soon to be six beers like it’s nothing.

He’d considered making conversation with the man next to him, but he didn’t think it would end up going well. Either Finland would not respond, which is the more likely outcome, or he would start threatening him like a drunken maniac. Who knows!

A tap to his shoulder told him he didn’t know a damn thing. Sweden looked over, surprised. Finland was looking at him with the same disgruntled expression he always wore. There was a faint dust of pinkish-red color to his cheeks, however. He was at least tipsy by now, but it was more likely that he was drunk considering the great quantity he had downed. Huh.

The fresh, full glass of beer was pushed in his direction in complete silence. Sweden blinked. It was unlike Finland to ever give up any kind of alcohol, let alone willingly. It looked as if he was just about to speak (what!), which is exactly why Sweden immediately regretted asking the very justified question of, “Is this drugged?”

Finland’s brows furrowed together, his eternal pout shifting to a deep frown. He reached out to grab the glass back.

Something in the back of Sweden's mind told him that if he let him do that, he would ruin any chance of connection, so, “No, no, I’ll take it!” The panicked words left his lips before he could think any further about just how oddly he was coming across. He took the glass back, pulling it towards himself with such great speed that a little bit spilled onto the bar top.

Silence passed between them as Finland gave Sweden a confused look. He stared for a moment before shrugging his shoulders, facing forward again and waiting for the bartender to return. Awkwardly, Sweden turned back to the now slightly less full glass. Well, if it was drugged, then it was his fault for accepting it on the half-baked thought that they could connect over it. He took a sip.

It was good.

Nice. Beer was always good.

He could feel a pair of eyes burning into his side. Haha.

What?

Sweden looked to his right from the corner of his eye. Sure enough, Finland was looking at him again. His expression was unreadable. It always was, but somehow it was even more so than usual. As if his eyes bore into his very core. Terrifying stuff. Deciding to break up the silence, Sweden cleared his throat, looking at Finland fully. “Why did you give me this?” He tried to put on a friendly smile. Gah— it even felt awkward on his face. He could only imagine how stupid he looked from an outside perspective.

A flash of surprise seemed to come over the Finn’s face when Sweden met his eyes. He even seemed to straighten his posture a little bit. The look went away as soon as it came, though. Blankly, he pointed at the empty glass that sat next to Sweden’s free (that he still had to pay for) full one. Ah. He made a very kind donation to him, feeling badly for his terrible fate: an empty beer glass. Oh, heavens to Betsy, what a horrible shame. Thank the great heavens he was here to save his good life and humbly give him his own untouched beer!

It was a sarcastic thought because, what? Since when has he ever done that? The answer was never. Maybe it was drugged after all. Sweden narrowed his own eyes at him. He dared to poke the bear again. “Why?”

Frustration crossed over Finland’s face this time. He looked back ahead, burning a stare into the back of the bartender’s head to try and have a different interaction. Well! Asshole.

Perhaps Sweden was tipsy too, by now, he thought as he picked up his glass again to take another sip. For he found himself not taking that sip at all; instead standing up and changing seats with the glass in hand. To the empty one right next to Finland. He was going to get this interaction whether he liked it or not.

Visibly, the other man tensed. He stared at him from the side with a wide, irritated eye, lips pressed thinly together. Aha! He didn’t know what to do! Both of them were awful at socializing and yet Sweden was, remarkably, a wee bit better.

Beer was gifted to Finland via the bartender. He took it happily, clearly thankful to save himself from having to force out a word or two to a man he did not like. He took a huge gulp immediately. So much so that a little bit spilled out of the corner of his mouth. Ah! Ew. He guzzled about half before setting it down with a heavy thud.

The window to speak again was closing, and Sweden didn’t exactly know what to say without bothering him too much. But perhaps bothering Finland wouldn’t be such a big deal if they were both inebriated. His mind was beginning to buzz, and judging by the color on the other man’s typically pale face, he was there, too. Sweden pressed again, “Finland, why would you give this to me? You love your alcohol so much, and you hate— woah!”

Lazily, a knife was being waved in his face. There was less energy in the movements. Clearly the effects of alcohol were starting to wear on the other man. How the hell did he get that in here? No, no, that was a stupid question. The thing was practically another body part. Still waving the knife, Finland wore an angry expression, face seemingly reddening by the minute. The color of his face didn’t seem to make sense with his alcohol intake, but that wasn’t really the issue.

The issue was the knife that almost poked Sweden’s nose several times! What the hell? He didn’t want to make a scene in the slightest, but what was he supposed to do? Calm him down and tame like some kind of wild animal? That may not be far from the truth, actually. Tentatively, Sweden reached for the blunt, top edge of the knife, trying to push it down and away from himself. He whisper-shouted, “Are you insane? I’m not trying to get kicked out of here! Can you be civil for once?”

Finland’s frown became wobbly and strained. His face was red, as if he was suffocating from this singular interaction. Hesitantly, he pocketed his knife again. He pulled his hat that he always wore a bit more over his eyes, and…

…Completely turned to face the opposite direction of Sweden, staring at the wall ahead of him like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He had taken his beer off of the counter. Sweden could only guess he was holding it strangely to his chest or his lap.

Dick.

Sweden took another swig of his own glass, tapping Finland’s shoulder a bit more roughly than he intended to. The other man flinched, but he didn’t react any further. It didn’t matter. “I don’t want to hate you, you know.” He sniffed a bit, then took another sip. “I think you’re… interesting. You make it really hard to be acquaintances, though.”

Nothing. Great. He reached out one more time, going to tap Finland’s shoulder again. To scold him for ignoring him like a moody teenager. Talk sense into him. Just try, try, try to milk some conversation or response out of the other guy. Because why would he give him his drink? It was as if he did want to start a conversation.

Oh, huh? “Ah!”

Again?! That knife was back, and Finland actually used it this time! The blade stabbed through the fabric of Sweden’s sleeve to the top of the bar, pinning his arm there entirely. He was stuck there. Of course he could easily remove the knife or pull his sleeve through the blade and escape, yet he felt a bit stuck at the moment. It seemed wrong to move.

Wild blue eyes and a face so red that it looked like he was choking, Finland stared at him with an intensity that froze Sweden in place. He was still gripping the handle of the knife. It looked like his veins were bulging out of his skin with how tightly he held the weapon. The beer glass in his hand looked like it was going to crack in his hold.

Finland let out a heavy breath. Embarrassment seemed to wash over him. He looked like he was going to let go of the knife. Is he kidding? Are they going to keep having these moments over and over? What was wrong with this guy? Can they have a single, full conversation at all? It was like he constantly had something to say to him but he just never, ever lets it out of him. If he would just—

“You need a haircut.”

Oh, haha, yeah, it was getting a little long, wasn’t it? It was starting to tickle his neck. He just never got around to calling his barber. How nice of him to notice!

Wait.

“What?”

The other man’s expression twisted into something illegible, yet clearly frustrated. He was terrible at voicing his thoughts, Sweden gathered ages ago. He probably wouldn’t say anything else at all. Truth be told, however, Finland was an unpredictable man. He proved that to be true yet again as he blurted, “You look too much like your sister.” Finland took a messy gulp of his beer. “Maybe even a bit better than her. Get a haircut.”

Something felt very funny in Sweden’s gut at that moment. Finland looked absolutely mortified that any of these words were coming out of his mouth. And, for Sweden, the weight of the words were finally settling in. Finland found Sweden’s sister hot, so to compare him to her, and then say he looked a bit better?

He didn’t know if he found that repulsive or intriguing. Or both. His eyes followed the hand that pulled the knife out of his sleeve, freeing him from the shackles of awful conversation. His mouth felt a little bit dry. Beer, unfortunately, was not the most hydrating thing in the world.

He took a sip anyway, feeling drier than a desert. Sweden reached out, grabbing the other man’s wrist thoughtlessly. Finland did a full-body flinch, almost dropping both of the things in his hands.

They stared at each other.

“Give me a haircut, then,” he uttered suddenly. “If you hate it so much.”

Finland looked like he absolutely did not want to talk, which was why it was so surprising when he gave a mumbled response of, “I didn’t say I hated it.”

They continued to look at each other intensely, as if waiting for the eye contact to break. Finland looked like a scared animal. Sweden didn’t know what he looked like, but he felt like it didn’t look normal in the slightest. Somewhat irrelevantly, he replied, “I don’t look like my sister.”

Taking a long sip of his beer, not breaking eye contact still, Finland shook his head slowly. “You do.”

Sweden tightened his grip on Finland’s wrist for no good reason other than to make him feel more trapped. Sarcastically, he asked, “What, am I just missing the lipstick?” And tits, but he didn’t say that.

Finland blinked. His eyes darted to Sweden’s lips, then lingered thoughtfully. The unnecessary stare made him feel the need to lick his own lips. They felt a bit dry. For some reason, that seemed to make things worse. Finland’s frown managed to deepen, eyes bugging out of his head even more than before. He sounded like he was choking on air when he said, “You don’t need that.”

He didn’t stop looking at Sweden’s lips. Oddly, Sweden felt the need to look at Finland’s, too.

Was he attra—?

“Hey, hey, we gotta go! I pissed on someone by accident!” Came the hurried voice of Denmark, always there to completely ruin his life for no good reason.

“What?” Sweden immediately let go of Finland’s arm, breaking their moment entirely and probably to not be picked up again for another few months. “Why would you do that?”

“It was an accident!” The idiot repeated. Denmark was hugging Norway like he was going to fall on the floor. Norway looked like he was about to throw up at any second. Denmark babbled, “I didn’t wanna wait in the bathroom line anymore, but I didn’t think it would just project itself forward like that until it happened, so I just kind of—“

“Shut up, my god!” Sweden threw his free hand up in the air. “Just get out! I’ll pay for the shit.”

Denmark whined some more before the barely alive Norway dragged him out entirely. Sweden paid off the (ridiculously high, what the fuck did Denmark and Norway even get?) tab. He was about to leave, but looked behind him. Finland sat in the bar stool, looking cemented to the seat.

Sweden gave his arm a light hit. “Come on.”

Finland seemed to blink himself back into the world, looking at Sweden like he had three very beautiful heads. He nodded, hopping off of the stool and slouching immediately as he stood. They walked out together.

Walking a bit more forward, Finland stuck his foot out a little bit, tripping Sweden before they could get out the doors.

Chapter Text

Denmark and Norway were asleep on each other in the bus. The area wasn’t very crowded. It was hard to pack it full this late at night, anyway. The Dane had vomited on himself ages ago and was graciously wiped up clean by Norway. Now he merely smelled of puke and had stains all over his clothes. Norway was relatively clean save for whatever parts of his body or clothes he had used to aid in Denmark’s distress.

Finland couldn’t give less of a shit about any of that. Awkwardly, he sat next to Sweden, who seemed to be making himself purposefully airheaded at the moment. Likely to avoid conversation. Not that Finland minded at all. He didn’t want to talk; he never did, to be fair, but that was an entirely unrelated issue.

He didn’t want to talk about what almost happened. Being forced out of the bar by Denmark’s idiocy had sobered him up almost immediately. Did he seriously think about kissing Sweden? Yeah, sure, he looked a bit like his hot sister when his eyes were crossing and he had more alcohol than blood in his body, but now? He just looked like his normal, unremarkable, irritating self.

The most uncomfortable part was that it seemed like Sweden had been thinking about kissing him, too. Finland, hands stuffed in his pockets, gripped the handle of his knife that was in there, too. He sat with a full seat of distance between himself and Sweden. It only seemed fair. It was how he wanted it to be before the Swede had broken the obvious boundary that he’d set in the bar.

Sweden glanced over at him, and Finland continued to stare ahead. Keep it that way, idiot. Don’t give him the satisfaction of making eye contact.

“You’re not seriously going to try and ignore what happened, right?”

Oh, come the fuck on! Finland frowned about as deeply as he could, eyes widening in slight surprise and anger. He whipped his head in the complete opposite direction of Sweden, inflicting his evil stare at an unfortunate unsuspecting passenger of the bus instead. He heard a scoff in the other direction. Clearly an indication of Sweden’s annoyance. Whatever. None of that mattered to him at all. Sweden’s stupid feelings or concerns didn’t matter to him at all.

“Well, I’m not going to,” Sweden said in a haughty little voice that made Finland want to rip his head off. Good for him, then! He didn’t care. Go toil about those feelings somewhere else. “I’ve tried for ages to try and get close to you again. I actually do care about things like this. Amazing, I know.” He paused, and Finland thought it was over, but his annoying voice came back. “If you’re an actual decent person, you’d look at me right now.”

It was a good thing that Finland wasn’t a decent person, for he continued to stare at the poor random guy that he had chosen to inflict his stare upon. Except, that’s what he would be thinking to himself if he didn’t find his head turning almost fully in the opposite direction. He faced straight ahead, giving Sweden a stare from the side.

The Swede sighed. “That’s good enough, then.” A short silence passed between them before the asshole opened his mouth again. “Well? Go on. Tell me what the hell that was about.”

What? Finland gripped his knife again, giving Sweden an odd look. He was the one who started talking. It was on him to carry this conversation. He knew that damn well!

Sweden rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to let you play the mute card. Just talk to me, for once in your life, please?”

If he was going to go for that, then fine. Finland could make something up decently enough. Because, in all honesty, he didn’t really know why he did all of that. He didn’t even know why he said yes to going out for drinks to begin with. He usually liked staying home and drinking alone like a sad piece of shit. “Missed your sister. Too many drinks. You looked like her for a second.” It was a decent enough lie. To be fair, he didn’t even know if he could consider it a lie. He didn’t know what the actual truth was.

He heard an annoyed scoff next to him. Oh, boo hoo. Not everything is going to go his way. Finland went back to staring ahead instead of out of the corner of his eye. It was better this way. If they could leave it at that, then they could go back to normal. Emotionally constipated and happy.

Sweden then moved seats, filling in the space that Finland purposefully left between them.

Finland wants to kill himself.

“I feel like that’s not true,” Sweden said, looking at Finland like he was going to actually, truly get something out of him.

Maybe Finland’s mind was still a bit more buzzed than he gave himself credit for. He found himself responding, “I don’t know. Leave me alone.” A hand came to him, gently resting on forearm. Finland jolted at the touch, finally turning his head and looking at Sweden fully.

His face was a little bit pink, and his eyes weren’t entirely open. They weren’t half-closed, either, but there was something about his stare that didn’t seem completely open. It was like he was squinting a little bit, trying to peer into his soul, his mind palace, his very thoughts and heart to rip out the honest answer he so desperately wanted that Finland simply didn’t have. His hair was a bit messy. Less combed and neat than usual thanks to Denmark trying to wrestle him in the middle of the bus stop before Norway pulled him off. The slightly messier look on him, just a bit less put together, looked good. Nice. He didn’t look like a total prick when he looked like total shit.

He didn’t look like his sister. He looked like himself. Maybe this was what Finland was seeing in the bar. He wondered if he looked like this when he woke up. The few times that they’d been forced to share a bed, he didn’t care to look at him, instead trying to stay asleep longer so he could rot.

Without even realizing, Finland’s expression had softened. Sweden no longer met his eyes, instead looking elsewhere on his face. Lower. The same look he was giving him back in the bar. “You really don’t know?”

Pressing his lips together, Finland shook his head, already tired of speaking so much. Sweden looked at his eyes for a moment, then back down.

He probably was still drunk, after all, Finland thought to himself as his eyes went in the same damn direction on the other man’s face. He didn’t like Sweden. He was annoying, whiny, and a big gay loser. And, for fuck’s sake, he had a husband, didn’t he? So why would he press on this to begin with? Finland was a lonely person, so it was only natural that his mind would wander to desperate places like these without actual rhyme or reason. It was just a little bit disturbing when he realized that he wasn’t envisioning Sweden’s beautiful sister in his ugly face after all, but rather him in a more natural, domestic kind of way. That was disgusting and gross and not at all something that he’d ever want in real life.

Sweden gripped Finland’s forearm when he leaned forward, close enough to kiss him. Finland felt his body stiffen. They didn’t close the distance. It would be a horrible choice.

The bus made a hard brake as a car whizzed in front to make a horrible turn, jolting passengers forward and Sweden’s face directly into Finland’s. Finland made a choked sound, eyes growing impossibly wide as the gap between was closed by the choice of natural causes. Sweden also made an odd noise.

They parted almost immediately. Sweden, looking apologetic, started, “I—!”

Finland didn’t let him finish, tired of being edged into moments like these only for them to fall flat. He freed his hands from his pockets, grabbing Sweden’s shoulders and pulling him back, crashing their faces together horribly and clumsily. A garbled sound escaped Sweden’s throat, but he, too, leaned into the bad, no good, very terrible kiss. It wasn’t as toothy as he expected it to be.

They tasted like beer.