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Entry tags:
Of New Candles And Old Flames [Estonia/Finland]
Title: Of New Candles And Old Flames
Characters/Pairing: Estonia/Finland
Rating: 13+
Length: 1000
Summary: Estonia and Finland meet again shortly after Estonia's independence is restored. It's time to pick up the pieces.
Other: Written for the Hetalia kink meme in 2009 (Original post); later revised and posted to my personal journal (Original entry).
Of New Candles And Old Flames
The match sputters into life, flaring high before calming and slowly burning down. Finland watches as Estonia lights the candles: one, two, three. He blows out the match. The smoke curls up around him, then dies.
The light flickers on Estonia’s face and catches his glasses, the soft glow illuminating his worn, weary expression. He is tired, Finland thinks. Overwhelmed, and with good reason. Only months ago he had finally succeeded in breaking away and getting back the autonomy that had been taken from him all those years ago. It had been a struggle and though Estonia had not spoken a word of complaint to him, the exhaustion that accompanied the freedom showed in his face and seemed to hint at a worry that all of it would not last.
They had been out together that day, really together for the first time in what seemed like forever, walking side by side as in the old days. It wasn’t the old days. Tallinn had changed; the air itself seemed different. He’ll be cleaning up this mess for years, Finland thought.
Now in the candlelight he watches him as he rearranges the candles, delaying. The shaking of his hands shows his uncertainty. There had been no awkwardness when they came back together but now that they are completely alone Finland can see that he is unsure.
He goes to him then and touches his shoulder. When Estonia looks at him he draws him close and kisses him softly, gently. His friend yields and slides his long arms around Finland’s waist. It has been a long time, Finland thinks. Too long. But it is the same as he remembers it. Estonia’s mouth is soft and inviting, welcoming Finland as he presses against him and wraps his arms around his shoulders, not minding as the glasses bump awkwardly, cool metal against his cheeks.
That is familiar. He missed it, just as he misses everything else. The warmth of him. The way it feels to run his fingers through his hair. But Finland finds him different now, in some ways. There is tension all through him, stress, something wound up tight inside of him. He can tell by the way it feels to be close to him, kissing him. The responses are nervous, and Estonia is clinging.
Finland breaks away and murmurs a question against his lips. What can I do? What can I do for you? Estonia’s response comes after a moment of hesitation. He withdraws from Finland and takes off his glasses, his hands trembling as he sets them on the night-table. When he looks back to him again Finland knows that he can barely see him, because it is dark and he is almost blind.
“Stay,” Estonia whispers, his voice ragged, almost hoarse. "That’s all. Just stay.”
“Okay.”
Finland takes his hand and squeezes it. In a moment they are holding each other again.
Somehow, eventually, they make it to the bed. Finland presses him down onto crisp white sheets and kisses him firmly, the gestures meant to be reassuring. I’ll stay. He thinks it as he slides his tongue into his mouth, stroking. I’ll stay. As they break for breath they linger nose-to-nose, pressing feather-light kisses to slick lips. Don’t worry – I’ll stay. He thinks it as he trails kisses over his jaw, along his throat. Maybe he even whispers it. If he does, Estonia does not reply with words; only movement as he tilts his head to give him room, his breath hitching.
When their lips meet again it is lightly, Finland delivering gentleness that was not there before. He wants more. After so long, he wants him, but the lingering tiredness he saw in the candle-light and the way Estonia now responds with softness rather than passion all tell him, no. Not tonight. So he restrains himself for the time being, draws back the desire and kisses him gently. He doesn’t mind. Another time. He loses himself in Estonia’s lips and the sensation of the scholar’s elegant hands stroking his hair. At some point they will snuff out the candles. At some point they will fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, still wearing their clothes. It doesn’t matter. It’s fine.
When Finland wakes it is because the sun has filtered in through the partly-closed curtains and warmed his eyelids. He blinks, yawns, and stares at the ceiling for a moment. Estonia is not there and the bed is cold. He can smell coffee and can hear the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. When he finally rises he goes there and finds him, and is greeted with a smile.
“Good morning, Soome.”
He barely has time to reply before Estonia kisses him. Arms encircle him as they had the night before, drawing him close. Finland sighs against his mouth and welcomes him, takes him in, tasting mint. Toothpaste. Fresh. Estonia is awake and holding him and though he hasn’t yet shaken off the fog of sleep Finland realizes that there is a vigour in him that was not there the previous night. Their kiss is long and deep and when they break for breath, panting, he asks why.
Estonia looks at him as if unsure how to respond then draws him closer, holds him more tightly, buries his face in Finland’s hair. “You were here when I woke up,” he says simply, his breath tickling Finland’s ear. “That’s all.”
That is all. Estonia kisses him again and Finland realizes then that it was reassurance that was needed, the promise of some small form of stability. The kisses they share silently say that this is how it will be now, nothing else but the two of them.
When they part, smiling, the warmth lingers. Soon they will make their way back to the bedroom. Soon there will be more closeness, more kisses, shifting and touching and fabric falling to the floor. But first, coffee. This is a new beginning, and they both should be awake for it.
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Characters/Pairing: Estonia/Finland
Rating: 13+
Length: 1000
Summary: Estonia and Finland meet again shortly after Estonia's independence is restored. It's time to pick up the pieces.
Other: Written for the Hetalia kink meme in 2009 (Original post); later revised and posted to my personal journal (Original entry).
Of New Candles And Old Flames
The match sputters into life, flaring high before calming and slowly burning down. Finland watches as Estonia lights the candles: one, two, three. He blows out the match. The smoke curls up around him, then dies.
The light flickers on Estonia’s face and catches his glasses, the soft glow illuminating his worn, weary expression. He is tired, Finland thinks. Overwhelmed, and with good reason. Only months ago he had finally succeeded in breaking away and getting back the autonomy that had been taken from him all those years ago. It had been a struggle and though Estonia had not spoken a word of complaint to him, the exhaustion that accompanied the freedom showed in his face and seemed to hint at a worry that all of it would not last.
They had been out together that day, really together for the first time in what seemed like forever, walking side by side as in the old days. It wasn’t the old days. Tallinn had changed; the air itself seemed different. He’ll be cleaning up this mess for years, Finland thought.
Now in the candlelight he watches him as he rearranges the candles, delaying. The shaking of his hands shows his uncertainty. There had been no awkwardness when they came back together but now that they are completely alone Finland can see that he is unsure.
He goes to him then and touches his shoulder. When Estonia looks at him he draws him close and kisses him softly, gently. His friend yields and slides his long arms around Finland’s waist. It has been a long time, Finland thinks. Too long. But it is the same as he remembers it. Estonia’s mouth is soft and inviting, welcoming Finland as he presses against him and wraps his arms around his shoulders, not minding as the glasses bump awkwardly, cool metal against his cheeks.
That is familiar. He missed it, just as he misses everything else. The warmth of him. The way it feels to run his fingers through his hair. But Finland finds him different now, in some ways. There is tension all through him, stress, something wound up tight inside of him. He can tell by the way it feels to be close to him, kissing him. The responses are nervous, and Estonia is clinging.
Finland breaks away and murmurs a question against his lips. What can I do? What can I do for you? Estonia’s response comes after a moment of hesitation. He withdraws from Finland and takes off his glasses, his hands trembling as he sets them on the night-table. When he looks back to him again Finland knows that he can barely see him, because it is dark and he is almost blind.
“Stay,” Estonia whispers, his voice ragged, almost hoarse. "That’s all. Just stay.”
“Okay.”
Finland takes his hand and squeezes it. In a moment they are holding each other again.
Somehow, eventually, they make it to the bed. Finland presses him down onto crisp white sheets and kisses him firmly, the gestures meant to be reassuring. I’ll stay. He thinks it as he slides his tongue into his mouth, stroking. I’ll stay. As they break for breath they linger nose-to-nose, pressing feather-light kisses to slick lips. Don’t worry – I’ll stay. He thinks it as he trails kisses over his jaw, along his throat. Maybe he even whispers it. If he does, Estonia does not reply with words; only movement as he tilts his head to give him room, his breath hitching.
When their lips meet again it is lightly, Finland delivering gentleness that was not there before. He wants more. After so long, he wants him, but the lingering tiredness he saw in the candle-light and the way Estonia now responds with softness rather than passion all tell him, no. Not tonight. So he restrains himself for the time being, draws back the desire and kisses him gently. He doesn’t mind. Another time. He loses himself in Estonia’s lips and the sensation of the scholar’s elegant hands stroking his hair. At some point they will snuff out the candles. At some point they will fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, still wearing their clothes. It doesn’t matter. It’s fine.
When Finland wakes it is because the sun has filtered in through the partly-closed curtains and warmed his eyelids. He blinks, yawns, and stares at the ceiling for a moment. Estonia is not there and the bed is cold. He can smell coffee and can hear the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. When he finally rises he goes there and finds him, and is greeted with a smile.
“Good morning, Soome.”
He barely has time to reply before Estonia kisses him. Arms encircle him as they had the night before, drawing him close. Finland sighs against his mouth and welcomes him, takes him in, tasting mint. Toothpaste. Fresh. Estonia is awake and holding him and though he hasn’t yet shaken off the fog of sleep Finland realizes that there is a vigour in him that was not there the previous night. Their kiss is long and deep and when they break for breath, panting, he asks why.
Estonia looks at him as if unsure how to respond then draws him closer, holds him more tightly, buries his face in Finland’s hair. “You were here when I woke up,” he says simply, his breath tickling Finland’s ear. “That’s all.”
That is all. Estonia kisses him again and Finland realizes then that it was reassurance that was needed, the promise of some small form of stability. The kisses they share silently say that this is how it will be now, nothing else but the two of them.
When they part, smiling, the warmth lingers. Soon they will make their way back to the bedroom. Soon there will be more closeness, more kisses, shifting and touching and fabric falling to the floor. But first, coffee. This is a new beginning, and they both should be awake for it.
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