Title: Dancing Queen
Pairing: Sweden (Panda G)/Finland (Panda N) [What's with the pandas? See our profile.]
Rating: T
Warnings: Underwear.
Summary: Finland discovers just what Sweden does when he's not at home.
Disclaimer: We do not own these characters and make no profit from this fic.

It is a rainy Sunday, and there is no good reason to go out for anything. With nothing better to do, Berwald decided to spend his day taking care of some of the chores that need to be done around the house. He has changed a couple of light bulbs, thrown the laundry in the wash – including his pants - and now he is dusting his bedroom. He has his favorite CD on, and his wife is out visiting Feliks. He feels rather... free. So he can't help dancing a little, thinking of what he'd do if he had the nerve to pull Tino into his arms and... Well. Do the things he wanted to.

The CD turns to an upbeat, pleasant tempo, and as he dusts he can't help adding a little flourish to it, a rock of the hips, a curve of his back, a tap of the foot...by the time it reaches the chorus, he is going all out. He exchanges the duster for a broom, and it quickly turns into his dancing partner as he sweeps his way through the room. The music floats over him and he smiles, singing along in his head because he knows all the words.

See that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen!

Tino, meanwhile, has just arrived home. He can hear the music all the way downstairs. Music...? What the hell...? Berwald doesn't listen to music... No, he listens sometimes, but... Frowning to himself, he throws off his wet coat and heads up the stairs, his eyes widening as he sees a shadow moving, gyrating in the light of Berwald's bedroom. He freezes. Is that why Bernie has not made a move? He has a different lover? The thought makes Tino's heart leap to his throat. Why? He should know by now that his feelings toward him have... flourished. Bloomed. Taken over his every thought. Indeed- That's why he visited Feliks. He needed insight. He wants Berwald with every fiber of his being, and yet the man has yet to make a move on him, even though they've been living together as "husband" and "wife" for years. Feliks is really the only one who understands. He told Tino to just pounce him. He... He's been waiting for the right moment. But if Bernie took another... Oh, there will be blood to wash out of his wet clothes.

Upstairs Berwald twirls away from the door, leaving his back to it as he sweeps dust out from under the bed. It's warm in the house, so warm that he's perfectly comfortable in his blue and yellow boxers and an open button-down shirt. He and Tino don't mind the cold too much, especially now that their house has central heating. It is never turned up very high; they are too used to the cold, and leaving it down is an excuse to hold each other close at night. Or at least, it is for him. He likes to pull the blankets over them and pull Tino in his arms, watch him settle down just as he did on that first night after they ran away together.

It's when Tino reaches the top step that he realizes... And Oh God, he has to throw his hand up over his lips to stop the laughter. It's Berwald. Berwald, in yellow and blue boxers, shaking his fine ass to ABBA as he dusts beneath their bed. Oh Sweet God in Heaven. He's never seen anything more adorably erotic than this man and his barely non-flailing dance moves. That is the most adorable thing he's seen in a long, long time. He leans in the doorway, crossing one leg over the other and watching.

You're a teaser you turn 'em on, Leave them burning and then you're gone. Looking out for another, anyone will do, you're in the mood for a dance.

Berwald begins to hum, almost without noticing that he's doing it. The dust swishes into his neat little pile and he sways easily to the beat. A step to the side, crossover, kick out, raising one arm as the chorus comes back on. Just watching him move his hips like that is going to make Tino dizzy! Fine then. No waiting.

He slips past the doorway, close to silent, and places one hand in Berwald's raised one. He grasps it between his fingers, placing his other hand on Bernie's hip, snapping the elastic waist of his boxers to catch his attention. "Nice moves, Bernie."

Berwald jumps, preparing to attack an intruder (likely Mattias) and realizing that it is Tino in the same instant. He thinks that Matt might be preferable at the moment, because at least he won't feel bad hitting him hard enough to make him forget. But not Tino; he couldn't hurt him. He goes bright red as the song comes to an end, the broom falling from his fingers. "Ah...how long 've y'been there?"

Tino just smiles, spinning himself around to face him because they're husband and wife. They should be dancing cheek to cheek. Or close to it. At least face to face. "Why don't you ever dance like that at my parties?" He leans up within kissing distance, cocking his head to the side with a faux-quizzical look.

You can dance, you can jive! Having the time of your life.

One eyebrow quirks upward. The answer is clear enough to Berwald; he's not fond of parties. He does not display himself in front of so many people. He might tap his foot, but no more. No need to get involved or open himself to judgment. It is not his kind of music, anyway. "Y'never play Dancin' Queen," he says.

"That song is far too relevant in our crowd to play. Besides- do you really want to start that fight? Feliks and Francis might actually kill each other for the title." Tino laughs, swaying a little to the disco beat, too slow really. But who cares? He's dancing with Bernie. He has him in his arms. He could be waltzing to rock and roll, and he really wouldn't know the difference.

Bernie smirks a little. "Tha's Drama Queen." A new song has started, and somehow he ends up swaying with Tino, one hand going to his hip. "Y'should play Waterloo sometime. Tha'one gets Francis t'pull such faces."

Their noses brush as Tino leans up and narrows his eyes. "Arthur too, I imagine." He pulls away fast, almost teasing, his hands sliding around him to meet at the base of his spine. "You dance very well, Bernie. I didn't know."

Berwald blushes again and ducks his head. This music, he can't help swaying to, can't help the way he automatically twirls Tino the way he would twirl the broom. But Tino comes back on his own, warm and filling his arms. "Th'ks."

When I dream I'm alone with you it's magic. You want me to leave you there, afraid of love affair, but I think you know that I can't let go.

Tino grins, folding himself up in Bernie's arms and resting against him for a moment. He refuses to just let this moment between them pass like all the others. This time he's going to make a move.

"I'm overdressed, aren't I?" He steps out of Bernie's grasp for a moment, pushing his pants to the floor and showing off the brand new, fuchsia lace thong he'd bought while he and Feliks were out shopping. He steps out of his pants and back into his husband's arms, pressing himself even closer than he was before.

There is a choking sound from Bernie as their bare legs rub against one another. /Very/ bare. He blinks, and cannot look down, because he doesn't want to invade Tino's privacy, doesn't want it to be like it was at Mattias', when nothing was private and personal space did not exist. "Y're...not...wearing pants." He can't think of anything else to say. This is why he doesn't talk!

If you need me, let me know, gonna be around. If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down.

Tino leans in closer, moving his hands back around him and using them to pull closer. He likes that. He likes the way they feel, so close together. "I know." Trying not to laugh through his words, he leans back a little and meets his eyes, leaning up on his tiptoes so that the hands on his hips are forced to rest... lower. "I am wearing a thong, though. I like to think that counts."

Bernie's eyes widen as his fingers encounter bare flesh. It takes all of his well-honed self-control not to squeeze or rub, but he cannot help one thing. He looks down.

"It's pink." 'Very articulate' he tells himself sarcastically, while ABBA keeps playing.

Take a chance on me. Gonna do my very best, baby can't you see. Gonna put me to the test, take a chance on me.

Tino raises his eyebrows, somewhat petulantly. "It's fuchsia. Feliks bought the pink ones, so I bought the fuschia ones. I wanted to be different." He peers up at him through his lashes, his own hands sliding down to his husband's ass. But he is not as polite as his husband. He squeezes. "Do you like them?"

There are more half-choked noises. And then...and then Berwald can't help it anymore. He can't answer, he doesn't have the words, so he simply swoops down and kisses him. It's gentle, as sweet as he can make it, but insistent.

You don't wanna hurt me, baby don't worry, I ain't gonna let you.

Tino laughs against his lips, feeling like the cat who finally caught the fattest canary in the world. But the kiss steals all his laughter. He opens his lips, letting his tongue inside, his arms sliding up to wrap around Bernie's neck and pull him in. Oh God, this is the best kiss. The best kiss he has ever had. And he knows they'll only get better. Kissing him back, easy and triumphant, he lets himself be swooped up in Bernie's arms and pulls him close, refusing to let it end.

No I can't let go. 'Cos I love you so.

The kiss lingers for a long, long moment. Minutes, hours, neither of them know. When they finally do pull away it is because they're going to pass out due to lack of air. Berwald holds Tino tight against him, both panting and not just swaying, but grinding against one another. There's only one thing Berwald can think to say. "I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do."