Author's note: SuNor with the OFC from the end of « Svea » and the puppy from « Tessan ». For May 17th, the Norwegian Constitution Day.

Birthday kisses

"Birthday kisses!" Freja yells into his ear, climbing atop her father and snuggling in between where his shoulder and head are. It's awkward to say the least, Lukas not yet fully awake enough for his daughter. Sloppy kisses all over his forehead and cheek though are always appreciated, the little girl giggling.

"Freja," a deep voice warns, the bed dipping as Berwald leans on it, pulling the little girl from the Norwegian so that she's laying between them. "Let's sleep for a little longer today, alright?" Excited the girl gets down low under the sheets, allowing tired arms to pull her to Lukas before he himself is pulled to Berwald.

A few hours later Lukas reawakens to the smell of breakfast drifting through the house, lazily making his way down the hall, allowing his body to sway with each step. Freja sits at the top of the stairs, running immediately at the sight.

"Papa!" her voice screams as the Norwegian takes the stairs slowly. "Papa, Daddy's up! Hurry hurry, we need coffee!"

After what seems like an eternity Lukas finally finds himself on the landing, entering the bright kitchen to find Berwald pouring out the warm drink into a mug, Freja picking three forks from the drawer.

"Tehehe," she giggles mischievously as the sight of her disgruntled father, scampering off in pajamas to set the table. Berwald sighs as he takes her in, turning to kiss Lukas sweetly, so loving that empties his lungs of air.

"Good morning beautiful," the Swede mutters before kissing him again and handing him the coffee. "Feel any different?"

"Feel older Daddy?" Freja almost shouts from the table, really dragging out the older part.

Lukas shrugs, leaning against the counter and watching his boyfriend plate the rest of the food. "Feel old," he says bitterly and Berwald laughs.

A scratching at the door alerts the Norwegian nation to a missing member of the family as Berwald carefully carries the plates to the table, the late morning sun bright on this side of the house. Sitting patiently at the glass door is Tessan, her tail wagging at the sight of her owner; she makes Lukas smile.

"Good morning to my other girl." The dog barks before coming in and lapping at water in her bowl.

Lukas lays for hours on the couch with Freja on his chest, rubbing her back as the girl regales him with stories: what she did at daycare this week, the monsters that live in her room, the new game she made up that Tessan likes, imaginary Vikings setting off on noble quests to teach the world to read and write. The Norwegian likes those the most because sometimes he forgets just how convincing Berwald can be.

The phone rings in the distance but Lukas lets his boyfriend get it, the man coming in from the other room to hand it to him. "Peter," he mouths and Freja falls quiet as her papa kisses her forehead.

"Hi Peter," Lukas says as warmly as he can into the receiver for Berwald's benefit.

"Hi Lukas! I wanted to wish you a happy birthday!" Cheery as always, just like Freja. The nation wonders where they get it from.

"Thanks Peter. I hope you're having a good time in Dublin with Arthur."

"I'm having a good time with my other brothers," Peter grumbles. "Arthur is a buttface."

"Buttface he may be-" Freja giggles "-tell him I said hi, ok?"

"No problem. Can you put Papa back on?"

Lukas holds the phone above his head, a knowing hand taking it back to finish the conversation.

"Tell me more," the Norwegian says to the little girl on his chest, "about the Vikings teaching others about sharing."

"Well," she starts off seriously; it makes him smile so much his cheeks hurt.

With Freja down for her nap Lukas and Berwald sneak into the study where he sits on the larger man's lap, hands feeling and mouths demanding. The Norwegian rolls his hips slowly, forward then back, over the growing need beneath him. Normally Berwald mocks Lukas for waking up with an erection; the Norwegian, however, always takes his revenge for that.

"I am sorry," Berwald mutters against his head while they take a break, Lukas just reveling in the feeling of being held in strong arms, "your birthday is so tainted with our shared history."

"No, no," he protests, turning his head up to kiss the chin of his lover. "Today is not about what anyone has done to my country. Today is about me." He takes a deep breath. "Today is about me."

"Everyday is about you for me," the romantic one says and that makes Lukas chuckle. "I love you."

"I love you too, even if you are Swedish."

An exhausted Freja whines for one of her fathers to pick her up, Berwald scooping her up beneath her armpits to place her easily on his shoulders. A Swedish hand reclaims a Norwegian one for its own then as they continue their hike through the woods nearby.

Lukas loves being outdoors: loves the fresh air, the bright sun, the grass beneath. He loves the way the wind rustles his clothing, the way the animals call out to one another, the feeling that this could be a thousand years earlier and not the twenty-first century.

"Daddy?" Freja asks.

"Yes dearest?" He wiggles her foot, Berwald pausing to sip at a water bottle before handing it to the girl. She takes a drink too before asking,

"How old are you now Daddy?"

"Twenty-three." Lukas has been twenty-three since the last great war ended, his body aged and beaten.

"But you were twenty-three last year," she whines.

"Don't use that voice or you're going to bed early," Berwald cuts in and she pulls a face.

"How about this?" Stopping Lukas holds out his arms for the Swede to hand their daughter to him, holding her to his chest. "This year, I am twenty-four."

"Twenty-four!" she repeats happily. "That's-" She starts to count off on her hands. When she runs out of fingers Berwald adds both his hands, Lukas one of his. "That's this many!"

Quietly he cleans up the plates as Berwald puts Freja to bed, the little girl exhausted from the day. Tessan follows him about, energetic after having taken a nap instead of coming with them on their hike. Hands suddenly touch his hips, a body pressing him softly into the counter as lips attack his neck.

"Twenty-four," the Swede murmurs against his skin. "I thought you were going to wait to turn twenty-four."

Turning in his grasp Lukas smirks, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck. "It's a very respectable age, twenty-four. Good age for a father with a young girl, for a man getting married."

"Umhum," Berwald hums against his lips, kissing him deeply. The man tastes of dinner and just a little bit of the dessert he'd stolen from Freja's plate, milk and coffee surely mixed in somewhere. "Can't wait."

Lukas steals a kiss, then two. "Midsummer isn't that far off."

"Why can't we get married now?" the man whines in the most perfect imitation of Freja, even somehow managing the puppy dog eyes despite not being a three and a half year old little girl but rather a grown man with glasses and a normally blank face. The Norwegian nation laughs at the absurdity.

"You can be as impatient as you want," he soothes, "but I've still got planning to work out."

At their feet Tessan yips. "She thinks we should elope too," Berwald informs Lukas as if translating.

"That's just because she doesn't like her ribbon."

"Oh good Lord," the Swede says exacerbated, "you've got the dog with a ribbon."

"Hush you!" Lukas slaps Berwald's ass, shoving the man as he goes to pour the last of the coffee out. "Stop getting me all riled up before bed."

"What if I'd rather you were riled up in bed?" Looking over his shoulder he doesn't miss Berwald's rather unsubtle wink. Lukas's eyes grow a little wide at that, too weary of the Swede's games as if either of them had any delusions about whether or not Lukas was going to be in the mood tonight.

"I'm going to tie you up and spank you," Lukas announces before leaving the room. A deep laugh follows him.

Tessan is asleep in Freja's arms down the hall, Lukas drifting to sleep in Berwald's. All in all it had been a pretty spectacular birthday: no alarm clocks, no suits, no work, no worries. Just his boyfriend, his daughter, and his dog. A day to not try and carry the burden of being a nation incarnate but rather to just be, to be human and a man and young and in love. Berwald kisses his lips sleepily, their bodies still sweaty, the room smelling of sex after they'd made love quietly, passionately.

Over a thousand years old and yet twenty-four years young; Lukas steals the last of his birthday kisses.