Chapter Text
Matthias could only stare at it's fiery eyes and elongated horns. And he instantly knew exactly who was to blame.
"Goddammit Berwald, you Swedish son of—!"
Saturdays were the exhale nation's needed after a week of conferences. Release, finally, from too-cold rooms and too-loud meetings and too-large stacks of paperwork. Matthias couldn't taken it for granted if he's wanted to.
Right now, he was lounging on an old ratty armchair, legs carelessly thrown over one arm while his head rested on the other. He felt relaxed for the first time in what felt like centuries. His aching body hummed as he stretched his legs once more and let out a yawn.
He had his eyes closed, simply enjoying the rumble of conversation between the other Nordics with the occasional chirp of Peter. Matthias couldn't see him, but he would bet his battle ax the young boy was perched on Berwald's leg. They were all gathered around the Swede's fireplace, sitting on their preferred choice of seating.
Lukas liked a wooden bench with cushions that allowed his to lay on his back, while Tino and Berwald sat in a comfy love chair together, which prompted various comments, all of which were dutifully ignored. Matthias had allowed Emil his swivel chair, and he could hear the squeaking as the boy tried to spin around without being noticed. He smirked.
It was peaceful, in it's own chaotic way. Matthias could almost feel the warm, welcome embrace of sleep, opening its arms, drifting — CRASH!
He lazily opened one of his eyes, tilting his head toward the center of their little gathering. He was mildly surprised it was Berwald who had apparently caused the ruckus. The love seat was on its side, with Tino sprawled on the floor. Berwald seemed to have knocked it down on accident when he had stood up.
More shocking, however, was the bright light that shone in his glassy eyes. Matthias doubted if he had ever seen the man look so inspired. Right next to Berwald with an equally concerning look was Peter. He was looking up at Berwald as if he were a superhero out of the comics America snuck him at meetings.
Matthias felt a sinking feelings of dread as he realized his nap was finished before it even began. For there was only one thing that could get Berwald so excited, enough that he would ignore Tino's writhing on the ground and cries of displeasure. Blue and yellow and much happier than any big brand store had the right to be:
IKEA.
Matthias let out a long groan.
There was nothing he particularly hated about IKEA, except for the fact it made Berwald happy (though sometimes he would secretly cheer when Berwald would smile at a piece with particularly fine design. So what if he liked seeing the stoic man a little less serious… sometimes).
It was just so pleasant. Everything neatly organized and set up in a way meant to replicate your imagination of an ideal home. Square furniture in square boxes with square bar codes in the most square building Matthias had ever seen. The whole store screamed boringly perfect.
Lukas and Emil had immediately tried to de-tangle themselves from the adventure under the flimsy pretext of "brotherly bonding". Matthias had just scoffed. "Cowards!" He had called as they quickly left the room.
So while Tino and Berwald flitted around from one item to the next, Matthias was left in the back sulking with only an overexcited Peter for company.
His eyes trailed the couple in front of them. He could imagine the conversation they were having right now.
"Do you like it?" Berwald would grunt.
"I don't know, do you?" Tino would respond, not sure if he wanted to look at the other man or the piece of furniture.
"If you don't, I don't" Berwald would respond, moving onto a new piece. Repeat. They would go on like that for hours, content with trying to make the other content as the followed each other, practically drowning in denial.
Matthias smirked as an idea crawled out from the depths of wherever such thoughts came from. If Berwald got to have a little fun, why couldn't he? Matthias should be able to indulge a little, especially when it involved the love lives of his fellow nations.
"You guys look like a couple of newly-weds!" Matthias yelled across the room. A few passerby had started staring, and he felt a pang of guilt at drawing attention to the self-admitted severe introvert. Though, Matthias reasoned, he was merely pointing out the obvious. And who knows, maybe this will be the push they need to finally confess. Their pining is seriously getting on my nerves. If they make each other happy, why not just, you know, date or something?
Tino and Berwald both spun on him, trying to look angry but failing at doing anything but blush and try to look anywhere but each other. Matthias had been hoping for some squabbling at the very least, but was sorely disappointed.
Tino's whole face had turned tomato red, while a light pink dusted Berwald's cheeks. Disgusting. Now that Matthias's favorite past time, making other people annoyed, had failed, he was forced to fall back into step with Peter.
However, Matthias realized Peter had not followed him. He whipped his head around the room frantically. If Tino figured out he had lost Peter, there would be hell to pay. He quickly felt a way of relief and a twinge of annoyance as he spotted him near a rack at the front of the room.
When Matthias finally caught up, the boy was staring intensely at a pair of red gardening gloves. They would have been innocuous enough, except for the fact they were from IKEA and therefor had to be as obnoxious looking as possibly.
A devious smile wormed its way onto Matthias's face. Maybe it was because he was still angry about being disturbed from his nap and was infinitely petty, or maybe he just liked seeing people, specifically those who had disturbed his nap, suffer. Matthias was tired either way.
"Peter, I'm surprised you found these." Matthias drawled. Peter looked up at the man with confused, if slightly curious eyes.
"I mean, all real nations have a pair." He added. You know, like a liar. Matthias could name at least forty who would rather die in favor of putting on something so colorful. Peter's eyes shifted from curious to suspicious. Berwald had raised the kid well. But not well enough to escape the mind games of a prankster.
"Really?" Peter said, doing his best to raise an eyebrow.
Matthias nodded his head gravely.
"But, of course, since you aren't really, oh you know, a real country, you don't have to worry about it." At that, Matthias could see Peter's determination solidify. Hook, line, and sinker. Any remaining caution was thrown into the wind as Peter began to study the gloves in a new light. It was truly inredibly how desperation could alter the human mind.
He reached out his small hand toward the red polka-dot gloves. Then, snatching them, as if someone might try to take them away, he ran towards Berwald at top speed.
Matthias was holding in a laugh with all his might. Schooling his bored face, he trailed after Peter, attemting a stroll though it closely resembled an eager skip. This should be good.
Berwald scrunched his eyebrows together as he saw Peter running toward him.
"What is it?" He grunted.
"I need these!" Peter looked down at the label. A quick look of horror crossed his face. Still, horror was no match for hope. "The kri-kri-kride—"Peter stumbled over his words. Matthias let out an involuntary snicker, hoping Berwald wouldn't hear. He wished he could have captured the pained look on Berwald's face. Better yet, hung the photo up in his office, for whenever he felt sad.
"Nej-nej-kridenej" Berwald looked worse each passing second. "leek-leeka," Finally, Peter stood a little straighter as he finished. "Kridenejleeka."
Tino was squeezing Berwald's hand ever so slightly as the Swede's face twisted between anger, disgust, and confusion. He gritted his teeth together, clenched his feet, and glared intensely enough the air seemed to chill a few degrees.
Tino's reassurance seemed to do the trick though, as Berwald let out a resounding sigh before inspecting the gardening gloves. He looked up though, along with the rest of the eyes in the room, as the temperature seemed to shift. The world seemed to stutter for a second, as if it were unsure whether to keep on going or freeze. Matthias thought he heard someone scream, but it was scratchy and broken.
The air turned a little warmer, despite the roaring of the air conditioner. Matthias took in a long breath, and the putrid scent of sulfur invaded his senses, making his eyes water. Was there a fire? Was everyone else okay?
It felt as if he were in a boiler room. Sweat beaded and poured down his skin, and painful jolts of heat stung his exposed neck and arms.
Tino was coughing, Berwald trying to help him while also suffering from similar symptoms.
Matthias knew the nations wouldn't survive whatever disaster had occurred, but he wasn't as sure about the shoppers, who were all kneeling on the ground. The human's eyes grew wide, pupils shrinking until they were only specks of pepper. Many began trying to speak, cries for help or jeers of anger he knew not, for from their mouth only spewed blood, which splattered the tile floors.
There was a resounding thud as the bodies hit the floor. Matthias's eyes grew wide with horror. He scrambled over to the nearest body, a woman with long brown hair and a yellow sweater. She had unfortunately face-planted, and a stream blood now trickled out of her nose.
Matthias desperately tried feeling for her pulse. There was no movement in her wrist, yet when he lowered his head to her chest, there was the faintest of pumping sounds. He let out a sigh of relief.
Turning his head, he saw Berwald in a similar position, crouching near a child with frizzy black hair, clutching a toy rabbit. Berwald gave Matthias a quick nod. Yes, she's still alive. Matthias gave a quick nod back. He would have smiled, but he felt the tips of his lips being tugged downward by some irreversible force. He glanced at Tino, who was hugging Peter to his chest as the boy trembled.
Something was very wrong.
This suspicion was only confirmed as intense gusts of wind began swirling in circles, as if a cyclone had begun inside. This isn't natural, Matthias instinctively knew. The wind only picked up, loose items whipped up in a storm of heat and debris. Matthias was glad that all the human's had fainted if only so they didn't get hit.
There was a red glowing from the center of the room, the focal point the air seemed to circulate around and heat radiated from in waves. Slowly, the wind died down and the objects settled is a perfect circle around the light. Matthias would have made a joke about the supernatural if not for the very real fear he was feeling.
A figure began to rise from the radiance, and when Matthias squinted, he could spot bloody skin and long limbs bathed in flames. Matthias's heart beat so fast he was sure it would jump right out of his chest. As the form began to take shape, he realized the skin itself was a smooth crimson, a stark contrast to the three-piece suit the creature wore.
Matthias took a step back. It had a spiked tail, two curving horns— his breathe lodged in his throat. This was no human, nor nation.
"Goddammit Berwald, you Swedish son of a bitch!" Matthias called out, never one to miss out on a chance to throw a bit of shade on the other. Of course it was Berwald. He rolled his eyes. Fan-fucking-tastic.