Finland must know.

He's got to know about this, about how to deal with having a partner who means well but can't even talk about anything…anything relationship without stammering and blushing and trailing off into mumbling silence. Finland has to know, because he and Sweden are the unofficial Official Married Couple of Europe and he has to know how to help.

So Veneziano drops into Helsinki and goes out for lunch with Finland and asks him "How do you do it?"

"What?"

"How do you—" Veneziano falls back on gesturing. "How do you and Berwald, you know—how do you—no offense but how do you get along? He doesn't seem, you know, demonstrative or anything and I know he gets embarrassed a lot and everything and so how do you hug him in public and everything 'cause I want to with Ludwig a lot but he's always all 'It's not proper' or 'We're in public' and—and how do you do it?"

Finland looks a little overwhelmed, but recovers quickly. "How do I keep from frightening him, you mean?"

"I—yeah."

"Well! Um. First, you'll probably have to tone down the hugging a bit? If there's anything I know about Ludwig and Berwald it's that they're not used to hugs. So you might want to hold back a little, make sure he's comfortable."

Veneziano picks up a paper napkin. "Timo do you have a pen? Probably I should write this down."

Finland nods and digs one out of his jacket pocket, handing it to Veneziano. "Here. Ah, what's next…you'll have to give him time. Berwald needed it, so will Ludwig. He'll come around, it's just, I don't think he's used to, well, affection in general." Well, he's definitely right there, Veneziano thinks. "Plus physically he's no offense meant kind of a lot bigger than you and you know about all the military stuff so I'm willing to guess he's sort of generally worried."

"Oh. Was Berwald?"

Finland huffs into his coffee. "You have no idea. Okay, next is…"

Sweden has to know.

Sweden has to know how to live with this, with someone who's so…so bubbly and cheerful and physical and—and embarrassing not in a bad way but in the sort of constant-affection way that Germany hasn't the foggiest how to deal with but Sweden must, he and Finland have a house and a dog and kind of a child, so.

So Germany bakes a quick batch of shortbread as an excuse to drop by Stockholm and ask Sweden—

—"How exactly do you deal with it?"

"Hm?"

"With—you know. Um." Germany clears his throat. Maybe he should have tried to lead into the conversation rather than just dive in after Sweden finished telling him about what Hanatamago had done last time Japan had visited with Pochi. "W-with, um, with Timo being—being cheerful all the time and the—" —he's going red, he knows he's going red— "—the hugging and kissing and. You know." He waves his hands vaguely, staring at his knees. "Just—how."

"Hm." Sweden's face remains, for all intents and purposes, impassive, but Germany has the nagging feeling that he's probably smiling at least a little. "'S like that, is 't."

Germany looks even harder at his knees. "Y-yeah."

"Well." Sweden pauses, scratches at the side of his head. "'S not easy. Y' just sort 'f…'s like. Y'know how they're 'lways huggin'? 'S how they are. Y'll get used t' it. Mean, y'know how 't feels like som'one's watchin'?"

Germany nods.

"Trust me. Nob'dy is."

He nods again.

"'N anoth'r thing y'should know is…"

"It's kind of cute, isn't it?" Says Finland as he rinses off a bowl.

"What?"

"Ludwig and Feli. Kind of reminds me of you and me back when. You know?"

"Yeah." Sweden dries the bowl briskly and places it in the cupboard. "D'you want t'go check up on 'em soon?"

"Couldn't hurt. Make sure they're all right, sort of thing." Finland sighs and reaches for the next bowl. "They do remind me of us a while ago though."

"'F it's 'ny comf'rt, we worked out f'ne."