I wrote another SuFin-thing. Oops.

I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own the characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. I don't make any money of this; it is entirely for my own entertaiment and the sake of the fandom.

Sweden was a romantic.

If he had always been a romantic or if it had only come when he saw Finland he didn't know. And if he should be completely honest with himself, then it wasn't a big deal to him. He finally knew where he stood after the centuries in which he had been in doubt about his heart. Back in old days he had been cold and he had been a beast. A murderer that only held indifference towards the people he and Denmark and Norway killed. Nothing like compassion flared in his eyes by the thought of the lives he destroyed.

To him, the lives of humans had only mattered because he could get power through them. If they were against him the punishment was simple and given without a second thought. If they were with him he wouldn't touch them, though still keep them at a distance. He didn't go well with humans.

One thing that was for sure: no one had ever loved him. And he had never loved anyone. That was also very much for sure. No one had ever made his heart skip a beat. He had never felt that nervous sweat appear on his forehead when he spoke with someone. Not once had he sensed the flapping wings of the butterflies of love. There hadn't ever been one single person who filled his mind day and night.

No, Sweden had never known love. He had known devotion, yes, he was strongly devoted to Denmark and to Norway and to his own country, his own citizens. But while this was something most people got to feel at least once in their life, this was the one thing Sweden believed was the deepest emotion he would ever feel. He had a natural protectiveness towards Denmark – that idiot always managed to get himself and the others into trouble – and Norway – that guy was small and anxious of strangers – but not for a second had the thought of actual love entered his mind.

The simple thought that there might be a person he wanted to sacrifice himself and everything for was ridiculous. To think that he would stare into only one person's eyes and want nothing more got his lips to twitch in something like a smile. When he tried to imagine the intimacy two lovers shared he would nearly blush. Then he pushed the thoughts away again and kept on doing whatever he had been doing before wonder and perhaps slight curiosity knocked on the door.

But then there was Finland. On a cold winter day they had been roaming new land and they had found a small and weak-looking man sitting by a tree. He had been doing something Sweden didn't get to know before Denmark and Norway had pushed him over, laughed loudly and continued exploring the unfamiliar landscape.

But Sweden had been captivated by the small man. While the others disappeared into a naked forest, Sweden stood still and watched this new person. There was something special about him. An aura, of some sort. It was clear that this was no ordinary human. If he was a country? Sweden had his doubts. The man didn't seem to possess the same ferocity that Denmark had taught him and Norway.

The man got up from the ground and looked around with fear plastered on his pale face. When his eyes found Sweden, they widened and the man opened his mouth to talk. But Sweden didn't understand a word of it. It sounded like nothing he had ever heard before.

Denmark had his tongue and Norway had his and they spoke a tongue Sweden could understand and relate to. In their language they had found solidarity. But here was a person whose words were utterly new and strange to the Swede's ears. Surprised and puzzled, Sweden had done nothing but glare at the other, wondering what he was trying to communicate.

Should he stop him from talking? But what if the other was unfamiliar by Sweden's language? Sweden didn't give it much thought. Instead of speaking – which he already preferred not to, thank you very much – he stepped over to the small man who instantly became silent. The already wide eyes grew even bigger and when Sweden was so close he could distinguish the colour of the stare that met him, the seemingly endless flow of words came back.

The man they would soon learn was the incarnation of Finland was terrified of Sweden already by their first encounter.

This fear lasted for many centuries and even now, when they were comfortably settled, Finland would still yelp when Sweden appeared unexpectedly or when he without a word put a hand on Finland's shoulder.

But back to Sweden and his emotions.

With the Finn came a sudden uncertainty. And truth be told, Sweden was scared. For the very first time in his life, he was anxious and feared for this strange new sensation he had only heard about. He knew that Denmark harboured this odd feeling for Norway and before the hatred between them grew too big, Sweden consulted Denmark about it.

He never should have.

Denmark laughed at him for close to half an hour before he finally wiped his eyes and took the other hand to his chest, trying to calm his breathing. Sweden stared at him without showing how mortifying this felt. Denmark was like a leader but Sweden didn't like being humiliated.

Then he turned surprisingly serious. And they talked. For God knows how many hours, Sweden attempted to explain where his uncertainty lay and why he suddenly felt so weird around another person. He had never been scared of anyone or anything, he had always met rebels and dangerous animals head on, never backing down for a second. Never had he let fear control him.

Yet, here was a person that made him even more silent than he normally was. He felt… odd in this man's company. Finland did something to him that he couldn't explain and he was daunted by it. When he was with Finland, his protectiveness grew stronger and he wouldn't tolerate that anyone got too close to him. If anyone joked about Finland they would be glared down so hard they cowered away.

Denmark listened and Denmark helped Sweden voice the feelings he didn't know how to express.

In the end, the answer was very simple. Or so Denmark said. Sweden wasn't that sure of the simplicity of the answer.

'But you are of course in love with him!' he had exclaimed with a wide grin threatening to split his face in two. Sweden stared at him, not a hint of emotions playing in his face or in his eyes. He didn't wear glasses yet. They first came centuries later when he and Denmark began fighting.

'… Love?' Denmark nodded wildly and ruffled the Swede's hair in that friendly way Sweden had come to hate over the years.

'But why?' He was genuinely confused. What was so special about Finland? He was this small man who was terrified of him and Denmark and Norway. Taking his size into consideration, he was surprisingly strong, yes, and he had some quirky characteristics that put even Denmark off but these things weren't quite the reasons, he believed.

There had to be something more.

He was disappointed when Denmark had been unable to give him a better answer. Denmark had shrugged and told him that this was something Sweden would have to deal with himself. Love was personal and something that only the person(s) involved could figure out. Denmark wasn't one of those so he could only stand by and watch, try to guide Sweden where he knew how to help.

A strange understanding seemed to flow between the two nations in that very moment. Staring into each other's eyes, they both knew that Denmark was right and that Sweden was on his own. Also for the first time in his life, he had to do something alone.

He knew wars and he knew solidarity in those wars.

This was also a war. But one that was completely new to him and he didn't know what to do. He had no idea what his emotions were doing or why they were acting all up when he was together with Finland.

So in truth, Sweden could have been a romantic all his life without knowing. Now he knew, though, and he was fine with it. He didn't have the need to think back on the time where he was almost embarrassingly clueless on the topic 'love'; now he knew what he was doing.

At least most of the time.

However, there were occasions where he would be nervous if he was doing the right things.

One of those occasions was always Valentine's Day. A day that was celebrated around the world and a day that Denmark made a big deal out of, only to Norway's annoyance, yet silent and hidden delight. Because no matter what he said, Sweden knew that Norway didn't mind the extra attention he got on this special day. Denmark was all over him the rest of the year, yes, but this day he managed to be gentlemanly. He treated Norway with respect and dignity that one only rarely got to see. He made sure that Norway had a good time with whatever they were doing and he always asked Norway if he had something in mind, something he was simply dying to do or see.

And while Denmark was impulsive and could prepare the most reckless thing ever for this day, Sweden was a passionate traditionalist.

He did all of the traditional things you associated with Valentine's Day.

The morning started with him making a full breakfast which he and Finland would eat in bed. No matter how many years passed by and this repeated itself, it seemed to please Finland to no end which only made Sweden that much happier.

If Finland had no appointments with his bosses that day, they would spend the many hours before dinner doing whatever they wanted. Sometimes, they went back to sleep after having had breakfast and sometimes, they would go to the zoo. Finland loved the zoo. Sometimes, they watched countless amounts of movies.

And when the time for dinner approached, they dressed up in fancy but comfortable clothes and went out to a fine candlelit dinner at a cosy restaurant, one with silent and romantic live music. Sweden always made sure to make reservations weeks in advance to make sure they could get the same table they always had.

While eating fine food and drinking expensive wine – Finland always brought his own bottle of vodka after getting permission from the staff – they talked about everything and nothing. It was hard for the Swede, though. With butterflies flapping around in his stomach and a perfect Finn in front of him, how could he be anything but flurried? Despite having a good amount of self-control and being hard to sway, he had dropped his fork on more than one occasion. And while his insides had been burning with shame, Finland had giggled. That sweet, adorable sound that could make Sweden's heart soar always managed to leave him nearly breathless.

When they reached dessert, they would both have gotten enough alcohol that the worst boundaries were forgotten and they would actually act like a couple. Until they reached dessert they only behaved like very good friends that simply spent a nice day together. Some people sent them an extra look but they had never been asked if they were a couple. If it ever happened, however, they would tell the truth.

But with the alcohol disappeared boundaries and Finland was always the one to initiate the small touches and it was always Finland who sent the first shy, yet alluring look. Always Finland who flashed that slightly dirty smile that got Sweden's heart to race.

But when Finland started, Sweden followed suit. And he could repay Finland simply by beckoning him closer with a finger and a lowered voice. With the volume of his voice turned down a few notches and Swedish phrases seductively rolling over his lips he had Finland blushing. Following up with a soft peck on his cheek he could always expect to hear Finland's breath hitch in his throat. If he felt daring and went as far as to pat Finland's thigh just once, Finland would turn his head away, face blushing fiercely while his breathing turned faster.

Eating the dessert took longer than the first course and main course combined.

Once they finished dinner they always went to the cinema. The choice of movie was Finland's and he never failed to pick a movie they both found worth watching, except for one time. Sometimes it was a drama or a comedy. Once he had picked a horror movie that had disturbed Sweden while Finland was thrilled. But more often than not, the movie was a romantic one. One of those overly sappy, overly emotional movies almost every young woman seemed to find extremely good. Finland picked them because he liked to compare the characters' relationship to his and Sweden's and then continue to blabber about how stupid the movie actually was and how glad he was to have Sweden while he snuggled close.

Sweden was just glad the room was so dark.

By the end of the movie, they had both grown flustered and they couldn't hide beginning arousal when they looked each other in the eyes after getting out. Exchanging a kiss that only made it worse, they would head home. Normally, they walked unless the weather was unusually chilly. Then they drove. No matter how they got home, they would tease each other with light and swift touches, driving the other mad long before they could do something about it.

However, the touches were never at their private parts. It was a hand running down the spine, a finger sensually brushing over the neck. Their shoulders gently bumping together or their feet "accidentally" nudging each other. Small touches that kept them tense and expectant. Once, it had been too much for Finland who had pushed Sweden into an empty alley and forced him to back up against the wall. Before he had time to ask what in the world Finland was doing – he had plans for them back home – Finland had kissed him wildly and desperately, with fingers that tugged at his jacket like mad, wanting Sweden closer but still caught between him and the wall.

Of course, Sweden had been hopeless but to melt right on the spot. In Finland's grip and with demanding lips all over his own he could do nothing but answer in kin. Greedily, he had pulled the Finn closer, eliciting a throaty moan by the force he always forgot he possessed. Hungering for more of the intimacy he could never be too full of, Sweden had mindlessly begun taking it further than good was. Finland hadn't showed the slightest bit of resistance or unwillingness towards the touches that grew shamelessly private. Quite the opposite, really.

What had made Sweden stop he couldn't remember. If it was a text message or a call from his boss or from Denmark. If they had been caught in the action by a person who wouldn't accept two men making out in a dark and formerly empty alley. Or if he had simply showed a little bit of sanity and had pointed out they couldn't do it here.

Finland had brushed it off. He wanted more and he wanted it now, he had growled, and no matter how hot Finland sounded when he growled, Sweden's common sense had told they should get home.

He got Finland to comply by whispering into his ear while cupping his cheek with one hand, the other gripping his waist.

'Be a good boy and I will put in a good word for you to Santa Claus.' Despite both of them knowing that Finland was Santa Claus, it had worked. The breath hitched in Finland's throat and his fingers tightened in Sweden's hair for a short second before he let go with a shaking exhalation.

The rest of the way home took an agonizingly long time. A whole of ten minutes.

But when they were finally inside, it seemed that Finland for a moment forgot his lust and his intense desire to have Sweden.

Entering their house, he saw what he always did every other year on this day. It never failed to leave him speechless, though.

The fireplace was lit and illuminated the living room in a bright yet dull shine, making the handmade furniture cast long shadows across the soft carpet. Rose petals were spread across the floor, creating a wide trail that lead up the stairs and into their bedroom. But there would never be just one trail.

Another would continue into the living room while a third showed the way to the bathroom. Yet another guided to the kitchen. Candles were placed all around, helping the fireplace in creating a romantic and private atmosphere while soft and sensual music played from a CD player in some corner.

Walking up behind Finland and putting his arms around the slim waist, Sweden would purr alluringly into the Finn's ear, breathing into it on purpose. Asking where his wife would like to go from here on. If Finland had enough self-control he usually let himself be taken to the bedroom. Otherwise, the living room was the preferred choice.

And surely, when they had reached their destination, Sweden would also give Finland chocolate.

How and in which form often varied.