Dreaming of Nobody but You

He slammed the door shut, the frame of the house vibrating violently from the abrupt action. Sweden was frowning. But then again, he was always frowning. Only today, it finally matched the mood of the tense atmosphere. Denmark was still shouting angrily down the hall, his hoarse voice barely being muffled by the large house's doors that separated them. It had been an argument almost impossible to understand, what with the two nations arguing only in their native tongues. They didn't really need words, however. Everybody knew what this was about. There was no need to understand context, just actions.

Finland cautiously peaked around his bedroom doorframe. Sweden was just standing there, leaning against the door while staring at an imaginary spot on the ground. His brows were furrowed, deep in thought. The littler nation felt uneasy, as he always did around the intimidating country before him, but today the sensation was even worse. There was so much tension in the air; it was almost possible to breathe it in. Nobody in the house knew what was going to happen, but they were sure about one thing and one thing only: something was going to snap, and it would be very soon.

"Mr. Sweden?" Finland called out softly from where he was. Sweden didn't look up. The smaller country could see the faint beginning of a bruise forming on Sweden's cheekbone. Finland could have sworn that his heart twisted in shock. He stepped forward slowly, but managed to reach Sweden within a matter of steps. Finland reached up cautiously towards the Swede's face, gingerly placing his fingers on the purplish skin. "Did he… hit you?" he said, whispering in disbelief.

"'S nothing," muttered Sweden, pulling away slightly.

"I'll get you some ice," offered Finland. He quickly attempted to turn and head towards the small kitchen that was situated in their portion of the house. Finland stopped, though, when he felt Sweden grasp onto his thin wrists.

"Don't," stated Sweden. There was no harshness in his words. It was blunt, yes, but not at all threatening or filled with anger. It was a sudden and disturbing change in comparison to the loud ruckus everybody had heard only moments before. Finland was about to ask if Sweden was sure he didn't need help, but Sweden made his way to his room and closed the door behind him.

It had been like this for months. Nobody could remember how it started. All Finland knew was that nobody was happy. Not Norway, not Sweden, not Denmark, and not himself. Dinners were being eaten separately now, meetings had practically been abolished, and everybody seemed to have been confined to their living quarters at Denmark's orders. Finland wouldn't have minded so much if the squabbles hadn't been so violent, but something had changed. Denmark hadn't been himself, not since… Well. Nobody really talked about it. It was a public secret, never spoken of.

Finland licked his lips, a nervous habit.

The wind howled outside, rattling the windows; threatening to get in. Winter had arrived nearly two weeks before, and everything outside that the eye could see was covered in a thick layer of snow. Large icicles had formed on the edges of the house's roof, growing larger every day, threatening to fall at a moment's notice. It was just a growing problem, becoming larger and more dangerous with every passing second. They were bound to fall and break sooner rather than later. How ironic that it should reflect the current situation.

Somebody should do something about it, thought Finland. Or else somebody will get hurt.

And hurt they did.

"Sweden," begged Finland. Tears were streaming from his eyes. He was perfectly fine, perfectly safe. He was crying because he was scared as he struggled to keep Sweden back. "Please, stop!"

"Have you finally lost it, you fucking fool?" snarled Denmark as he stood up again. Blood tricked from his broken nose, which he casually wiped away with the back of his hand. He was a strong nation. He could handle something as mediocre as this.

"Guess I have," snapped Sweden. His fists were clenched, every limb in his body aching and twitching for another chance to nail his oppressor in the face again.

The blow had been sudden, though Finland should have expected it. One snarky comment was all it took. One snarky comment, and now there was no turning back. Sweden clenched his fist tight, swinging with all his might at Denmark's head. There was very little that the Danish nation could have done. It was just so quick, so rapid, so confusingly startling.

"Dan," warned Norway. He, like Finland, was trying to keep the utterly pissed nation away. Preventing a fight seemed impossible at this point, unfortunately.

"What're you gonna do, huh?" aggravated Denmark. "You don't honestly think I'll let you go, do you? Or are you just an idiot?"

"'M not an idiot," growled Sweden. "Jus' free."

"You wouldn't last a week being independent."

"Anything's better than here. You're a terrible leader, Dan. 'S only matter of time 'fore everyone leaves you."

Denmark lunged forward, swinging his fists. Sweden was just as quick in retaliation. Fists met faces, kicks met limbs, and harsh words met egos. All the while, Finland watched in horror at the violence. This wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't what anybody wanted. Why couldn't they just stop and talk this out?

"Fuck you, Sweden!" screamed the other Nordic. "Is this what I get for all I've done for you? You're so damn ungrateful!"

"So're you."

"Sweden! Stop!" pleaded Finland. He just wanted this all to be over.

And over it was with a final, bloody brawl between the two. Sweden appeared to have won, Denmark bruised and aching on the cold snowy ground.

"C'mon," muttered Sweden bitterly to Finland. "Let's go."

Finland wasn't entirely aware of what Sweden had meant by that. Yes, it was true that Finland was also displeased with the way Denmark, but did he really want to leave? There were so many other countries out there; countries that were so much stronger and powerful and… scary. Finland pondered as he quickly shoved his few belongings in a large bag and followed Sweden through the front doors of Denmark's house. Surely it would be alright. As it stood, anything was better than living under Denmark's tyranny. He used to be such a good person, too. Finland wondered when it had all gone wrong.

They walked for what felt like miles and miles. The chill would have deterred any regular man, but they weren't susceptible like humans were. Finland was, at most, only willing to give a shiver or two as the harsh winter breeze passed them.

"Papa! Dad! Wake up!" shouted Sealand. The micronation was jumping up and down at the foot of the bed, eager for the day to begin. "I'm going to be late for school."

Finland was interrupted from his dream, yawning as he stretched to greet his adopted son. He smiled at the little blonde boy and said, "Alright, alright. I'll make breakfast. Let Papa sleep in, okay?"

"Does he have the day off?" asked the boy innocently, slipping off the bed and landing softly on the carpeted floor.

Finland nodded, sliding his feet into the slippers that patiently waited for him next to the bedside table. He took Sealand's hand and guided him out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. Finland prepared some scrambled eggs and toast as Sealand helped himself to a bowl of cereal.

"Can I stay over at Latvia's house today, Dad?" the boy asked. His mouth was half full.

"Today?" Finland raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. We've got a science project due tomorrow, so he invited me over to stay so we could work on it."

"Are his parents alright with that?"

"Yup. He already asked them."

"Alright then. Just remember to call me to say goodnight."

"'Kay."

Finland walked with Sealand to the front door, noticing the pitter-patter of the rain outside. The little nation pulled on his yellow boots and had his dad help him button up his raincoat.

"Have a good day at school," said Finland kindly.

"I will." The little boy placed a kiss on Finland's cheek before heading out. The school was only three blocks away, so Finland wasn't too concerned about letting the boy go out alone. Sealand had always been so insistent that he be independent. It was almost like he was trying to prove himself worthy. Finland yawned again. He, too, had been given the day off. He had pulled a double shift the night before, and his boss was feeling generous. He figured that this was the perfect opportunity to get some more sleep.

"Peter gone 'ready?" asked Sweden. His voice was groggy from slumber.

"Yes," sighed Finland. He walked over to the taller nation, taking one of his warm hands. "Go back to bed."

"You a'right?" he muttered wearily.

"What do you mean?"

"You're talkin' in your sleep," explained the Swede.

Finland blinked. He wasn't surprised. The dream he had last night was sure to invoke some sort of reaction. "It's nothing. Go back to bed."

"Only 'f you come with me." Sweden leaned down, placing his forehead to Finland's. The littler nation couldn't help but smile. He was just so… comfortable.

"Alright," he said.

As they silently made their way back to the warm greeting of the bed covers, Finland thought back to his dream. For some reason, he felt uneasy as he scanned the scars all over his lover's body. The pain, the history, the fear… It all seemed to come back. He hadn't thought about it much as of late, which was probably why he was feeling all of the guilt in one fell swoop. He hated it when Sweden fought. It was just so… vicious. Sure, Sweden wasn't known for being an outward sweetheart that Finland knew him to secretly be, but the reality of it all was what shocked him.

Finland tenderly planted a kiss on Sweden's cheek as he stroked the elder nation's neck. They were both already warm with anticipation, but Finland was stiff; almost unsure.

"'S wrong?" asked Sweden, pulling away only slightly so that he could see Finland's face. The younger was blushing.

"Nothing…" he lied. "I was just thinking."

"'Bout?" inquired the Swede as he gingerly pressed his lips to Finland's exposed neck as he unbuttoned the littler's shirt. Finland didn't respond right away. He was too distracted by how good this all felt. This wasn't the first time they had made love, and he sincerely hoped that there would never be a last. They had come too far to have any more change. Finland had gone from intimidation to outright adoration. Sweden wasn't scary. He just had trouble communicating. The way he kissed, caressed, and stroked Finland with the utmost care was enough to tell Finland he was the most loved person in the entire world.

"You," whispered Finland as his chest was completely exposed to the morning air. There was a slight chill, but his heated skin barely allowed him to notice.

Sweden raised an eyebrow, but continued leaving a trail of sweet nibbles down Finland's chest and then stomach.

"I was just… thinking about when we were back with Mr. Denmark," muttered Finland. He felt like his voice was going to give out. He had no doubt a symphony of moans awaited. "I'm glad I ran away with you."

Sweden looked up slightly. There was a smile on his face. It was a smile, and rare, but genuine smile that made Finland want to smile, too. "That was a long time 'go," he breathed, resuming the task at hand.

"Yes, well –ah!" gasped Finland. There was a growing warmth in his chest. It was so overwhelming that he wanted to squirm, but not away. No. Never away. He wanted more. His lips betrayed him as a soft moan escaped, filling the gentle morning sounds with a completely new tone of wanton lust. "Oh… B-Berwald, I–"

Finland was cut off mid-sentence when Sweden fluently managed to slip off the smaller nation's pyjama bottoms. Finland felt his face flush with embarrassment. He hated it when he was caught off guard like that. Well, he didn't hate it… It was just a surprise every single time. Just as Sweden was about to slip his hand down Finland's boxers to greet his swelling length, Finland raised himself up slightly.

"W-wait," said Finland sheepishly.

"Mhm?"

"L-let me do it for you today, Sweden."

Finland allowed Sweden to lie back on the bed, having placed his hands on the larger nation's chest to guide him backwards.

Finland lowered himself slowly, raising his head to meet Sweden's member beneath his own boxers. He loved the way there was always a feeling of lingering touch as he stroked the skin of Sweden's inner thigh. Finland placed butterfly kisses here and there, coaxing a lazy moan from Sweden's mouth. It felt great to know that he wasn't the only loud one in bed. It just took the older nations some… convincing.

"Tino," muttered Sweden. His eyes were closed. Glasses off. It was damn sexy. Finland didn't want to make him wait any longer. He wanted this, too, after all. He stripped off Sweden's boxer, and then his own, revealing their hard members.

Finland placed his lips to the tip of Sweden's length. He was awarded with a lustful sigh of relief. He began licking at the shift before allowing Sweden entrance. Finland bobbed his head up and down along the shaft, eventually being led by Sweden's hand that tangled itself in Finland's hair. Sweden groaned. Finland hummed contently. He had been right when he had been expecting a symphony of lustful cries.

All of a sudden, Finland found himself being lifted and rolled onto his back. It was abrupt, taking him completely by surprise. Sweden pressed his forehead to Finland's own, their greedy lips barely a centimetre away. Their hot breathes combined in front of them, creating a cloud of sweet and hungry scent for more. Just this wouldn't be enough. Finland wanted to be filled so badly, and Sweden could tell just by staring into his large, needy eyes.

"Finland," panted Sweden.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Finland pressed his smiling mouth to Sweden's. Of course he knew that, but he never tired of hearing it over and over again.

Sweden reached down, stroking Finland's sensitive skin, inducing a whine from the younger nation. They had made love just the night before, so preparation was hardly necessary. They were both too eager to wait any longer either way. So, Sweden aligned himself and slowly entered the warmth that was Finland's body. They both grunted at the initial pain, but soon forgot the moment Sweden began thrusting forward.

"Ah," groaned Finland. He wrapped his arms around Sweden, tugging gently at his blonde locks. Their lips met again, their tongues dueling devilishly from inside one mouth and then in the other. Sweden tasted surprisingly sweet for a person who appeared so bitter.

That's what most people would never understand. Finland practically relished in the fact that Sweden was his on so many different levels. He would be the only one to know the truth about his stoic lover.

"Ah… Oh, Sweden! Oh…"

And so the pain was completely forgotten, replaced by a coiling pit of delicious fervor in the base of his stomach. Finland wanted this. There was only so much satisfaction with being filled. It was a bonus that it was Sweden who was the one he was with, but now he needed to reach completion. Finland could have sworn that he would have been driven mad.

"Oh, yes!" he cried. His voice felt like it was about to break.

"F-Finland," gasped Sweden. He rolled his hips forward, aiming for the same spot that he knew drove Finland insane. It was so warm. The ardor that surrounded his swelling member was perfection. Hearing Finland's unrestrained moans only made Sweden want his little nation more.

Finland arched his back, feeling that coiling pit of passion grow and grow in intensity. A chorus of yearning groans leaked from his gluttonous lips. "S-Sweden! Right there! Oh…" His heart was pounding loudly in his ears. "Yes. Keeping going. Ah! S-Sweden. Sweden! Harder!"

Sweden shoved forward, moving back and forth, in and out. He, too, could no longer wait.

"Harder, Sweden!" begged Finland. His voice was becoming rasp. "Oh! Harder, please!"

Sweden obliged, thrusting at a quickened pace. With one hand, he grasped onto Finland's forgotten member. It was swollen and desperate for attention. Finland couldn't help but shiver when he was finally being pumped. Sweden's warm, somewhat calloused hands slipped easily up and down Finland's shaft in the same maddening rhythm as the thrusts.

"Oh. Oh, Sweden. Ah!" exclaimed Finland. He was almost there. So close. "I'm… I'm going to…"

Sweden quickly rammed into the smaller nation, feeling that building tension within his own body suddenly come undone. That burning sensation of wonder and lust poured out of him, sending tremors down his spine. Finland, too, had reached his climax, his groans suddenly cut off by sheer pleasure. They rode out their orgasms together, the last few thrusts and pumps dedicated to the sheer purpose of delight. Finland was breathless. He always was. He was breathless and completely in awe of the handsome, stunning lover he had beside him.

Sweden paced back and forth, eager for any news from the Eastern Front. He should have sent help. He should have gone himself to help Finland. If only his boss hadn't insisted on remaining neutral throughout the war. It didn't feel right to him. It went against everything he believed in; everything that he wanted to love and protect. Finland was out there somewhere, fighting for what? Land, territory, space… Whatever those Germans wanted to call it. There were Swedish volunteers helping Finland, but that wasn't going to be enough.

The Nordic nation finally decided to sit down. He glanced out the window. It had snowed violently for the past few weeks. Everything was blanketed with white. Finland had always liked the snow. Oddly enough, he didn't like the cold. Sweden couldn't bring himself to imagine the smaller nation fighting, hidden by a large snow bank. He had seen a soldier's life. It was not a pleasing one. Only a fool would fight and die for his country, a fool who was brave and patriotic.

It had been days since the last letter had arrived. The Finnish troops were holding off the Red Army, but surely that wouldn't last. How many days would it be when Finland would be home? Sweden could not tell. All he could do was sit there, waiting and wondering for news that might never come. Finland couldn't die, he knew that. They were countries, after all. Their lives didn't work the same way as human lives did. There was, however, still a chance that the Finland he once knew would not come home the same as before.

War changes people. Brave, bold, naïve young men come home broken, bewildered, and lost. Months of fighting on the frontlines will tear a person's perspective apart. It will test their strength, their stamina and their faith. War isn't a game. It's only a game to the rich men commanding the troops from the safety of their tents and guns. To the soldiers, it's supposed to be a willing sacrifice.

Finland had been recruited as a sniper. From what Sweden had heard, he was one of the best in his division. He can't die, Sweden had to often remind himself. But he can be broken. That was what he was worried about. What if his sweet, innocent, wide-eyed Finland was lost out there? What awaited them when the war was over? When would it end? Would it ever end? How many more people had to die before the Germans realized that this war wasn't going to go their way from the beginning? Fear is only a weapon. But all weapons can be countered with a shield.

"Mr. Sweden," came a voice from behind his office door. "The postman has arrived."

Sweden stood up immediately, walked briskly to the door, opened it, and took the small envelope into his large hands. The man who had delivered the mail nodded and walked off. He knew better than to disturb his nation right now. The economy was still shaking, they were still recovering from nearly twenty years before in the Great War, and his constant worry for Finland was driving him crazy.

Dear Mr. Sweden, it read. Things don't seem to be looking up over here. The Reds have been advancing slowly. We're doing our best to hold them off, but we desperately need the German support from the south. It looks like it's going to be a battle of attrition. I'm afraid, Berwald. I truly am afraid. I just want the day to come where I can see you again. I was thinking of the soup you made for me when I was sick last winter. Will you make it again for me when I get back?

And the letter ended just as suddenly as it had started. Sweden blinked. He flipped the flimsy paper onto its back. There was no further message. That was it. It was less than a paragraph of scattered information. He felt sick. Surely there had to be something he could do. He could send troops. Maybe he could convince his boss to do something. Send supplies, send support units, anything… Finland was afraid. Did he mean that? Of course he did. Why else would he write such a thing.

Sweden felt his heart sink. Now was not the time to be so deep in despair. He couldn't possibly give up now. He had to see Finland again. There were no ifs, buts, or maybes. He had to.

Sweden opened his eyes. Finland was wrapped securely in his large arms. He breathed slowly. A dream. A dream of the past, nothing more. Finland was safe now, and more importantly, Finland was safe with him.

The larger nation took a quick glance past Finland to the small digital clock on the bedside table. Both furniture pieces had been bought at IKEA, but that was just a minor detail that he recollected before Finland stirred and opened his eyes. A smile snuck onto his young face.

"G'morning," he muttered contently.

"Mornin'," Sweden muttered back.

"You were talking in your sleep," commented the smaller nation.

"Mhm?"

"Mhm," nodded Finland. He stroked Sweden's face. There were traces of stubble upon his chin.

"'S nothin'," shrugged Sweden.

He placed a gentle kiss onto Finland's forehead, which the smaller nation returned as he snuggled closer.

A/N:

I don't even. I don't even. I don't even… I really hope you liked it. I've never written SuFin before. Ah!

Just say it was good and never come back. I'll understand. D:

I hope it was to your liking, Wang Lei! :3

Acrylic Painted Smiles is coming up next! I swear!

~K