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Entry tags:
Chase the Cold [Sweden/Norway]
Title: Chase the Cold
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Sweden/Norway
Rating: 10+
Length: 1k
Summary: Sweden returns home after being kept away for several weeks. Norway welcomes him in his own way. Set some time during the 1800s.
Other: This was originally written for a zine, but the project was cancelled. Thank you to Folie for help with the proofing.
Chase the Cold
Sweden had been away for over a month. It was longer than he usually would care to leave Norway on his own. Between one thing and another, he was delayed one week, then two, and then another. What he had meant to be a short, simple trip to attend to matters outside of Stockholm had grown much longer. Circumstances and the weather conspired against him.
Not that Norway was likely to mind, Sweden thought. He was probably glad to be left to his own devices.
There was, however, the matter of the letter. Sweden slipped his hand into his pocket and brushed over the paper with his thumb, the gesture more fond than it should be. He'd received the message while travelling, finally on his way home; it had been sent under the assumption that it would reach him in one of the towns along the way. Norway's message was short, detailing what had passed during his absence, nothing more. But the closing had made Sweden stop, and re-read it, then stop again.
In Norway's neat, tight handwriting were the words: I wish you a safe return.
There was affection in those words. At least, Sweden dared to hope for it. That drove him to travel all the more quickly. He would make it a safe return, but it would also be a speedy one.
In truth, Sweden wasn't sure what to expect upon arriving at his residence. After receiving that letter, his thoughts over the course of his return journey took a shape of their own: he allowed himself to imagine Norway welcoming him home with an eager embrace and a smile.
The hour was late when he finally returned.
"Come back, have you," Norway said upon seeing him, looking up from the book he had been reading and tilting his head, giving him a look that said quite plainly that he would not have been one bit bothered if Sweden had stayed away for another month.
At that, Sweden could do little but mutter an affirmative and drop his gaze. He had come to see him immediately, as soon as he'd shucked off the outer layers of his travelling clothes. The expression on Norway's face was not at all the greeting he had hoped for.
It was, however, what he should have expected.
Still, Norway rose and went to him. Even more surprising, he took Sweden's hand in his own, squeezing it for a moment before reaching up to touch his face. There was a curious expression in Norway's eyes, and it shot right through Sweden and tied his tongue. Before he could un-knot it, Norway nodded and drew away, returning to the fireside and his book.
"You're right froze if I ever did see. Would get some vittles and then go to bed if I was you."
Sweden thought about arguing with him. But Norway's advice, curt though it was, was not without merit. It was late, and he was cold, and he was tired, and Norway was being as confusing as ever.
He left the room in silence, and left Norway to his reading.
The door opened with the slightest sound. Sweden looked up, blinking at Norway, who slipped into Sweden's room dressed for bed and looking as reserved as ever.
"Cold one tonight," Norway said, nodding to the window and the snow falling outside. "Ought to share. 'S only good sense."
It would not be the first time Norway had come to his bedroom on a winter night. What Sweden had at first assumed was merely a pretext for getting into his bed had proven instead to be genuine effort to chase away the cold, as he had sorely discovered after a few attempts at allowing his hands to wander. Though getting shoved onto the floor by Norway had not been a pleasant experience, Sweden could not deny that having him present was preferable to being without company, particularly on nights like this.
Sweden thought of Norway's cold greeting earlier that evening and wondered if it would be prudent to refuse him. It would be justified.
Even if Sweden had decided on that, Norway did not allow time to act. He slunk over to the bed, sank down onto the edge of it, and slipped the clip from his hair, moving with the casual grace so common to him. The movement caught Sweden's eye and held it fast, and as he watched Norway slide into bed next to him he decided, no. He wouldn't turn him away. Who would?
Besides, the night was cold, and would get colder.
The cold was the reason why, when they were both comfortably in bed, Sweden coiled his arm around Norway's waist. It was why Norway did not move away from him when he did. And it was why Sweden was bold enough to hold him close, and Norway did not push him away.
That was, of course, the excuse. Yet Sweden continued to think of the letter. Norway had wished for his return, hadn't he?
As he tried to puzzle out Norway's motivations, Sweden listened to his breathing, and knew he was awake.
"You're thinking too much. Ought to get to sleep."
Norway's words were soft and dozy, murmured as he lifted his head to graze his lips against Sweden's cheek. The gesture, small though it was, made Sweden freeze, his heart skipping a beat.
All he could do was mutter an affirmative.
"Took you long enough to get here," Norway continued. His words were annoyed, but his voice was soft. "I should've been in bed long before you showed up. Had a feeling you were coming tonight, mind. 'S why I waited."
"...Sorry?" Sweden hardly dared to say anything, in case the very act of speaking would make Norway change his mind.
"Shh." Another soft kiss to his cheek, barely there. "Stop fussing about all this."
It was unclear whether he meant the late night, or their close proximity. Or perhaps it was the letter, which had been such a concern to him. But as Sweden nodded, and Norway nestled more firmly against him, he decided that he was right.
Whatever Norway had meant by those words, and whatever he meant now, it wasn't something that needed to be discussed. Not when they were together, close as skin, and warm.
Sweden held him through the night, and didn't let go.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Sweden/Norway
Rating: 10+
Length: 1k
Summary: Sweden returns home after being kept away for several weeks. Norway welcomes him in his own way. Set some time during the 1800s.
Other: This was originally written for a zine, but the project was cancelled. Thank you to Folie for help with the proofing.
Chase the Cold
Sweden had been away for over a month. It was longer than he usually would care to leave Norway on his own. Between one thing and another, he was delayed one week, then two, and then another. What he had meant to be a short, simple trip to attend to matters outside of Stockholm had grown much longer. Circumstances and the weather conspired against him.
Not that Norway was likely to mind, Sweden thought. He was probably glad to be left to his own devices.
There was, however, the matter of the letter. Sweden slipped his hand into his pocket and brushed over the paper with his thumb, the gesture more fond than it should be. He'd received the message while travelling, finally on his way home; it had been sent under the assumption that it would reach him in one of the towns along the way. Norway's message was short, detailing what had passed during his absence, nothing more. But the closing had made Sweden stop, and re-read it, then stop again.
In Norway's neat, tight handwriting were the words: I wish you a safe return.
There was affection in those words. At least, Sweden dared to hope for it. That drove him to travel all the more quickly. He would make it a safe return, but it would also be a speedy one.
In truth, Sweden wasn't sure what to expect upon arriving at his residence. After receiving that letter, his thoughts over the course of his return journey took a shape of their own: he allowed himself to imagine Norway welcoming him home with an eager embrace and a smile.
The hour was late when he finally returned.
"Come back, have you," Norway said upon seeing him, looking up from the book he had been reading and tilting his head, giving him a look that said quite plainly that he would not have been one bit bothered if Sweden had stayed away for another month.
At that, Sweden could do little but mutter an affirmative and drop his gaze. He had come to see him immediately, as soon as he'd shucked off the outer layers of his travelling clothes. The expression on Norway's face was not at all the greeting he had hoped for.
It was, however, what he should have expected.
Still, Norway rose and went to him. Even more surprising, he took Sweden's hand in his own, squeezing it for a moment before reaching up to touch his face. There was a curious expression in Norway's eyes, and it shot right through Sweden and tied his tongue. Before he could un-knot it, Norway nodded and drew away, returning to the fireside and his book.
"You're right froze if I ever did see. Would get some vittles and then go to bed if I was you."
Sweden thought about arguing with him. But Norway's advice, curt though it was, was not without merit. It was late, and he was cold, and he was tired, and Norway was being as confusing as ever.
He left the room in silence, and left Norway to his reading.
The door opened with the slightest sound. Sweden looked up, blinking at Norway, who slipped into Sweden's room dressed for bed and looking as reserved as ever.
"Cold one tonight," Norway said, nodding to the window and the snow falling outside. "Ought to share. 'S only good sense."
It would not be the first time Norway had come to his bedroom on a winter night. What Sweden had at first assumed was merely a pretext for getting into his bed had proven instead to be genuine effort to chase away the cold, as he had sorely discovered after a few attempts at allowing his hands to wander. Though getting shoved onto the floor by Norway had not been a pleasant experience, Sweden could not deny that having him present was preferable to being without company, particularly on nights like this.
Sweden thought of Norway's cold greeting earlier that evening and wondered if it would be prudent to refuse him. It would be justified.
Even if Sweden had decided on that, Norway did not allow time to act. He slunk over to the bed, sank down onto the edge of it, and slipped the clip from his hair, moving with the casual grace so common to him. The movement caught Sweden's eye and held it fast, and as he watched Norway slide into bed next to him he decided, no. He wouldn't turn him away. Who would?
Besides, the night was cold, and would get colder.
The cold was the reason why, when they were both comfortably in bed, Sweden coiled his arm around Norway's waist. It was why Norway did not move away from him when he did. And it was why Sweden was bold enough to hold him close, and Norway did not push him away.
That was, of course, the excuse. Yet Sweden continued to think of the letter. Norway had wished for his return, hadn't he?
As he tried to puzzle out Norway's motivations, Sweden listened to his breathing, and knew he was awake.
"You're thinking too much. Ought to get to sleep."
Norway's words were soft and dozy, murmured as he lifted his head to graze his lips against Sweden's cheek. The gesture, small though it was, made Sweden freeze, his heart skipping a beat.
All he could do was mutter an affirmative.
"Took you long enough to get here," Norway continued. His words were annoyed, but his voice was soft. "I should've been in bed long before you showed up. Had a feeling you were coming tonight, mind. 'S why I waited."
"...Sorry?" Sweden hardly dared to say anything, in case the very act of speaking would make Norway change his mind.
"Shh." Another soft kiss to his cheek, barely there. "Stop fussing about all this."
It was unclear whether he meant the late night, or their close proximity. Or perhaps it was the letter, which had been such a concern to him. But as Sweden nodded, and Norway nestled more firmly against him, he decided that he was right.
Whatever Norway had meant by those words, and whatever he meant now, it wasn't something that needed to be discussed. Not when they were together, close as skin, and warm.
Sweden held him through the night, and didn't let go.