Title: FML
Genre: Humor
Pairing(s): SuFin
Rating: T
Warnings: Sealand will be scarred for life.
Summary (Full): It was just one of those days. One of those days when his pants wouldn't come off and Sweden had to be a knight in shining slacks and tie. It was a 'magic fingers' sort of thing. -Oneshot, FML inspired-
A/N: HNNNNGH thanks to my wonderful reviewers, the newest chapter of "Treatment" is pretty much 3/4 of the way done. Still, this idea wouldn't leave me alone. This is meant to be an 'FML' sort of thing, but I HATE writing in first person, so I didn't. /shrugs For those of you who don't know (there's always one person), 'FML' means 'fuck my life'. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: -insert witty disclaimer here-

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It was one of those awkward moments everyone's had at least once in their lives. One of those moments when some article of clothing refuses to cooperate, and you just know that you won't be able to sort it out on your own; when you know that either you're going to have to live the rest of your life with a shirt wrapped around both arms, one leg and your neck, or take a chance and ask for help.

Finland stood next to his bed, wearing nothing but the pajama pants he'd put on the night before. He looked down to the drawstrings and cursed at the knot there, one he had tied when he was half-asleep, and thusly not as mindful of his own strength. It was so tight that his fingers were raw from trying to pull it apart — and, with the waistband cinched tightly just above his hipbones, there was no way he could shimmy out of the pants without untying the knot (or dislocating something). The only option he had, other than cutting the drawstrings and sacrificing a perfectly good pair of sleep pants, was to find someone with tougher hands to try their luck.

Finland took a deep breath, then set out half-dressed in pursuit of Sweden.

With his luck, the man wasn't in any of the rooms upstairs, his own bedroom, or any of the hallways. No, he was down in the kitchen making breakfast, fully dressed, having apparently experienced no trouble with his pajamas that morning. Finland lingered in the archway that divided the kitchen from the hallway, trying to get the man's attention as subtly as possible — he really didn't want to venture out into what was basically public space naked from the waist up. When clearing his throat and waving in the man's periphrial vision didn't work, he had to give up and approach the intimidating man, modesty be damned.

"Um, Sweden...?" he mumbled, tapping him on the shoulder. Sweden immediately turned, apparently startled, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of the half-dressed and thoroughly embarrassed Finn before him. Finland quailed under the look, and was about to make a run for the scissors when Sweden finally spoke up.

"What's wr'ng?" he asked. For some strange reason, the question irritated Finland. Apparently, something had to be wrong for him to run around his (their) house half-naked, even though the Swede had been caught shirtless in the hallway plenty of times. Setting aside his indignation, he pointed downwards.

"Um, it's my... the knot... I can't get it."

Finland plucked at the drawstrings of his pants hopelessly, wondering why he'd thought this was a good idea anyway. Then, without a word, Sweden knelt at his feet and set to work on the knot.

More awkward than not being able to get out of your pajamas in the morning was having a man you were pretending not to be involved with kneeling in front of you with his eyes trained on your groin.

Very awkward, but also strangely hot.

"Th'nk I got it..." Sweden rumbled, giving the knot a few last tugs before it unraveled completely. Caught up in finally defeating the knot (and plans on Finland's part to sprint upstairs the moment Sweden's hands were off his pants), neither of them noticed as the front door opened and Sealand let himself in, instantly bustling into the kitchen.

He froze as he saw his 'mother' and 'father' caught in an incriminating position, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

Finland's pants chose that moment to hit the floor.

FML.

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A/N: C'mon. You know this has happened to you. You tie a knot in something and then, when you try to untie it, you're like, "HNNGH WHAT THE HECK. I TIED THIS, WHY CAN'T I FRIGGIN' UNDO IT?" Not to mention I believe everyone has had at least one moment when their clothes refused to cooperate. Thus, this plot bunny traipsed across my pillow at four in the morning.

Anyway, this was obviously inspired by 'FML's. I promised myself I would never get into the 'FML' and the 'MLIA' trend, but it's always nice to know that, at least somewhere in the world, someone is having a worse day than you. Which is why I read them. Maybe I'm just cynical. :D

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!

- C