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Song From A Secret Garden [Finland/Sweden]
Title: Song From A Secret Garden
Characters/Pairing: Finland/Sweden
Rating: 18+
Length: ~2.2k
Summary: Finland's dream is a good sign that he really should give Sweden a call.
Other: Written for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
surstrommiakki fest. Prompt was Garden/Dream. (Original Post)
Song From A Secret Garden
The colours were too bright, the green shades of the leaves too vibrant. Not in the way that it would sometimes be in springtime, when the right combination of golden sunlight and fresh new earth could produce a green so green that it dazzled the eyes.
No, in a spring garden it made perfect sense, but in a summer garden it didn't. And the flowers were too bright, and it wasn't the right season for them, and they were more fragrant than they should have been. It was like nothing else; normally you had to put your nose right up to them in order to smell anything at all, but there they were, pretty and bright and heavy with perfume.
But what really, really tipped Finland off to the fact that it was all a dream was the fuzziness that everything had at the edges, and the fact that Sweden was far too overdressed. There Finland was, in his light jacket and comfortable trousers and sensible shoes, and there Sweden was, dressed like a gentleman from the 1800s, cravat and coat and all. It was a good look for him, sure, but Finland hadn't seen him dressed that way in years, and it didn't make one bit of sense at all.
Well, then! Finland considered this carefully. If it was a dream, then maybe it meant something. Or maybe it didn't And maybe he could turn it however he wanted, but then again - Finland glanced at Sweden again, taking in the way the sunlight looked on his hair, the way those old-fashioned clothes looked on him, and the utterly content look on his face, so much that even his expression was relaxed, his eyes not narrowed in thought like they usually would be.
It was nice. Maybe it'd be fine to just leave things alone and let the dream take whatever direction it was going to go. Deciding on that, Finland let Sweden take his arm and lead him around the garden.
They were completely alone. The garden was more like a park: enormous, and someone could walk around for hours without reaching the other end of it. There wasn't a single other person there; nothing but birdsong in the trees, and the low bubbling of a stream, and the sound of gentle breezes rustling the too-green leaves.
I wonder if I could imagine other people if I wanted to, Finland thought. But he didn't. The company he had was nice enough; he didn't need any other.
So far, Sweden hadn't said a word. But then again, that was completely normal.
He let Sweden lead him around. Eventually, they came to a wooden bench, and Sweden gestured for him to take a seat. The two of them sank down, sitting side by side in the yellow sunlight and the fragrance of flowers and cut grass.
After thinking about it for a second or two, Finland moved closer and curled up next to Sweden. It was his dream, and that meant that even though the garden looked like a public space, it was as private as private could be.
Eventually, he let himself rest his head on Sweden's shoulder, and let his eyes drift shut, and resolved to just enjoy it.
"Missed you, you know."
That made Finland's eyes snap open. The surprise wasn't that Sweden spoke; what was startling was how he said it: in Finnish.
Finland laughed. If he hadn't already known it was a dream, there would be no denying it now. "You did?" he replied. "It hasn't been that long since I last saw you, you know."
Sweden grunted. "It's been long enough."
Slowly, Finland turned his head and took a look at him. Sweden's expression was serious, as always, and the old-fashioned clothing he wore didn't make him look any less sober. Could this be some - oh, maybe some guilt over not answering those letters Sweden had sent him after they separated? Finland dismissed the idea immediately. He hadn't had time! Surely Sweden understood that.
Maybe it's my subconscious reminding me to return his telephone call, Finland thought. That made more sense. Of course, that was it.
"Well," Finland said finally, "I've missed you too." Sure, it had only been six months since they'd last had a chance to get together, but it was nice to see him, even if the Sweden who was sitting behind him was a figment of his imagination. Sort of. That was how dreams worked, right? "I'll see you again soon."
That answer seemed to be good enough. Sweden made a low acknowledging story of sound, then bent down to kiss him, gently tilting Finland's chin up before brushing his lips over his mouth. Awfully forward, aren't you, Finland thought, even as he kissed back. And that, too, just went to show that this was all his imagination. Even now, even these days, the Sweden he knew could hardly do anything without thinking about it and worrying over it for half an hour at least.
This Sweden was not half as indecisive. In fact, he wasn't at all. Heat rose in Finland's cheeks as that kiss deepened from just something gentle to something else. Parting his lips, he took his tongue in, sucking gently as he felt Sweden's hand touch his face, then trail down over his throat, then over his chest.
Not indecisive at all.
Well, it was a dream. And if that was where it was going to go, that was just fine with Finland. He let himself bring a hand up to rest it on Sweden's broad, familiar shoulder. Sweden felt solid enough, and the expensive fabric beneath Finland's fingertips was just as fine as it looked to the eye, but dreams were deceiving by definition, weren't they? He wasn't really there.
I'm going to have to call him when I wake up, Finland decided. Or text him, or something. Maybe he missed Sweden after all - even if it hadn't been that long.
He sighed under the firm kiss, taking in the press of Sweden's mouth, and the scent of his cologne mixed with the thick fragrance of the flowers in the air, and the way his hand trailed downward. Down over his chest, down along his hip, until it came to rest squarely on Finland's thigh, broad and warm, long fingers sprawling. Finland grinned into the kiss, then pulled back, resting against the back of the bench.
Slowly, he traced the line of Sweden's jaw with his fingertips, brushed against his lips with his thumb, taking in the look of contentment he saw on his face. "Well," he said. "What do you have in mind?"
There was a moment before Sweden responded. He tilted his head, brushing kisses against Finland's fingertips before he said anything, his eyes half-shut and relaxed. "What do you think I have in mind?"
His voice was a low murmur, but there was no hesitation in the way he deferred the question. Sweden's voice held a confidence that, at times like this, it normally didn't have, and Finland could feel himself becoming quickly uncomfortable in his trousers.
"I think you know," Finland said.
Of course Sweden knew. Of course he did.
Finland watched as Sweden drew away from him. He was blushing, but not half as much as he would under normal circumstances. Under real-world circumstances, Finland thought, correcting himself. But there was an attractive shade of pink on his cheeks regardless.
Sweden didn't say anything. Without a word, he removed his gloves, pushed up his glasses, and moved to sink down on his knees on the grass between Finland's feet.
Everything was fuzzy at the edges, and every moment was too quick and too silent, as if it wasn't really happening. As if everything was set to fast-forward by fractions of seconds. It was an unreal feeling. Finland closed his eyes, just from contentment, because in spite of the oddness of everything, it was pretty relaxing - but he could see everything in his mind even without looking at it. It was as if he could see through his eyelids, and if it weren't for what he was seeing, it would have been unnerving.
He could see Sweden's cheek resting against his thigh for a moment. Long-fingered hands opening his trousers. Sweden mouthing at his zipper before pulling it down.
Then he felt Sweden's lips wrapping around his cock: soft, slow, slick. Finland sucked in a breath and took hold of Sweden's hair, gently gripping the short strands and guiding his head down. He opened his eyes and watched as Sweden took it in slowly, lashes low on his cheeks, mouth making slick sounds as he dipped his head, then drew back, then dipped it again.
The sight in front of him moved too quickly, all of it. Finland gasped as he took in a breath and tried to hold what he was seeing. The images in front of his eyes were blurring, moving faster than they should have been, he couldn't get them to stay put even if it was his dream - and what was worse, he could feel himself getting close, almost finished as the dream was finishing, and that wasn't fair! Normally that stirring feeling in his belly wouldn't come for a while yet.
Goddamnit.
"Go slower," Finland whispered, tightening his grip on Sweden's hair, trying to make everything slow down, trying to make it last. But time was moving more quickly than that, and no matter what Finland did, no matter how hard he tried to hang on to the sensation of Sweden between his legs, the dream was unravelling.
"Oh, fuck-"
Finland opened his eyes. He drew in a deep breath. Blinked for a second or two.
Across from him on the night stand the alarm clock read 7:55. Five minutes before it was set to beep.
He turned it off.
The dream was rapidly fading from his mind, but Finland remembered enough of it to know that it was responsible for the hardon between his legs. He pressed his face into the pillow, not wanting to get up, not for a few more minutes at least.
It had been a nice dream. A little weird, but not the weirdest he'd ever had, not by far. It wasn't as if Sweden had suddenly sprouted tentacles or anything. That would have been weird. He thought of the scent of the flowers, the too-green freshness of the garden, and Sweden - so good-looking in his old-fashioned clothing.
... And the rest. There was that, too.
He finished himself off in the shower, cheek pressed against the tiles, breath quick as the warm water fell down on him. Even though he was alone, it didn't take much to imagine that his hand was Sweden's hand, or his mouth, or -
It didn't take him long.
Later, as he waited for the coffee to brew, still-damp hair plastered to his forehead, Finland took up his phone and stared at it. I should call him, he thought. I should. It'd be nice to see him again.
... Not just because of the dream! Not just because of that kind of thing. Though it was one of the reasons, Finland admitted to himself as he scrolled through his contacts.
But just one of the reasons! Among many others.
Would he even be awake yet? Finland stared at Sweden's name in his phone and frowned. Maybe not. And even if he was, regardless of the early hour, that didn't mean he'd be all that good for talking - Sweden was always better with text messages than phones - but it wasn't as if they were going to have a long conversation, and-
"Oh, hell," Finland muttered under his breath. Fine. He let it dial. Why wait?
The voice that greeted him on the other end of the line wasn't the most coherent he'd ever heard, even by Sweden's standards. "Hnh?" Sweden grunted, sounding like a bear roused from hibernation.
Well, that was good enough for Finland. "Good morning!" he said, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he went to pour himself a coffee. "Did I wake you?"
"...Nnh."
"Um." Was that a no? Well, good enough. "Great! You know, I was thinking, it's been a while since I last saw you. Are you busy this weekend?"
There was a long pause on the other end. For a moment, Finland stood and waited, biting at his lip and stirring at his coffee and hoping. Don't tell me you're busy, he thought.
"... No?"
"Great! I'll come over on the boat for a few days. Is that fine?"
Another long pause. "Ya' missed me?"
The disbelief in Sweden's voice was probably more obvious than he had meant it to be. Are you that surprised? Finland wondered, biting back the urge to say it. ... Then again, it had been a while. Too long. Maybe he'd thought it meant something, even if it didn't, not at all. "I'd like to see you again, that's all," he said, smiling and hoping that it could be heard in his voice. "Okay?"
"Nh. Okay."
Maybe - maybe, Finland thought as he hung up and took up his coffee, there was a little more to it than that. But after all, Sweden already knew. 'Ya missed me?' Of course he knew!
He didn't have to say it.
End
Characters/Pairing: Finland/Sweden
Rating: 18+
Length: ~2.2k
Summary: Finland's dream is a good sign that he really should give Sweden a call.
Other: Written for
surstrommiakki fest. Prompt was Garden/Dream. (Original Post)Song From A Secret Garden
The colours were too bright, the green shades of the leaves too vibrant. Not in the way that it would sometimes be in springtime, when the right combination of golden sunlight and fresh new earth could produce a green so green that it dazzled the eyes.
No, in a spring garden it made perfect sense, but in a summer garden it didn't. And the flowers were too bright, and it wasn't the right season for them, and they were more fragrant than they should have been. It was like nothing else; normally you had to put your nose right up to them in order to smell anything at all, but there they were, pretty and bright and heavy with perfume.
But what really, really tipped Finland off to the fact that it was all a dream was the fuzziness that everything had at the edges, and the fact that Sweden was far too overdressed. There Finland was, in his light jacket and comfortable trousers and sensible shoes, and there Sweden was, dressed like a gentleman from the 1800s, cravat and coat and all. It was a good look for him, sure, but Finland hadn't seen him dressed that way in years, and it didn't make one bit of sense at all.
Well, then! Finland considered this carefully. If it was a dream, then maybe it meant something. Or maybe it didn't And maybe he could turn it however he wanted, but then again - Finland glanced at Sweden again, taking in the way the sunlight looked on his hair, the way those old-fashioned clothes looked on him, and the utterly content look on his face, so much that even his expression was relaxed, his eyes not narrowed in thought like they usually would be.
It was nice. Maybe it'd be fine to just leave things alone and let the dream take whatever direction it was going to go. Deciding on that, Finland let Sweden take his arm and lead him around the garden.
They were completely alone. The garden was more like a park: enormous, and someone could walk around for hours without reaching the other end of it. There wasn't a single other person there; nothing but birdsong in the trees, and the low bubbling of a stream, and the sound of gentle breezes rustling the too-green leaves.
I wonder if I could imagine other people if I wanted to, Finland thought. But he didn't. The company he had was nice enough; he didn't need any other.
So far, Sweden hadn't said a word. But then again, that was completely normal.
He let Sweden lead him around. Eventually, they came to a wooden bench, and Sweden gestured for him to take a seat. The two of them sank down, sitting side by side in the yellow sunlight and the fragrance of flowers and cut grass.
After thinking about it for a second or two, Finland moved closer and curled up next to Sweden. It was his dream, and that meant that even though the garden looked like a public space, it was as private as private could be.
Eventually, he let himself rest his head on Sweden's shoulder, and let his eyes drift shut, and resolved to just enjoy it.
"Missed you, you know."
That made Finland's eyes snap open. The surprise wasn't that Sweden spoke; what was startling was how he said it: in Finnish.
Finland laughed. If he hadn't already known it was a dream, there would be no denying it now. "You did?" he replied. "It hasn't been that long since I last saw you, you know."
Sweden grunted. "It's been long enough."
Slowly, Finland turned his head and took a look at him. Sweden's expression was serious, as always, and the old-fashioned clothing he wore didn't make him look any less sober. Could this be some - oh, maybe some guilt over not answering those letters Sweden had sent him after they separated? Finland dismissed the idea immediately. He hadn't had time! Surely Sweden understood that.
Maybe it's my subconscious reminding me to return his telephone call, Finland thought. That made more sense. Of course, that was it.
"Well," Finland said finally, "I've missed you too." Sure, it had only been six months since they'd last had a chance to get together, but it was nice to see him, even if the Sweden who was sitting behind him was a figment of his imagination. Sort of. That was how dreams worked, right? "I'll see you again soon."
That answer seemed to be good enough. Sweden made a low acknowledging story of sound, then bent down to kiss him, gently tilting Finland's chin up before brushing his lips over his mouth. Awfully forward, aren't you, Finland thought, even as he kissed back. And that, too, just went to show that this was all his imagination. Even now, even these days, the Sweden he knew could hardly do anything without thinking about it and worrying over it for half an hour at least.
This Sweden was not half as indecisive. In fact, he wasn't at all. Heat rose in Finland's cheeks as that kiss deepened from just something gentle to something else. Parting his lips, he took his tongue in, sucking gently as he felt Sweden's hand touch his face, then trail down over his throat, then over his chest.
Not indecisive at all.
Well, it was a dream. And if that was where it was going to go, that was just fine with Finland. He let himself bring a hand up to rest it on Sweden's broad, familiar shoulder. Sweden felt solid enough, and the expensive fabric beneath Finland's fingertips was just as fine as it looked to the eye, but dreams were deceiving by definition, weren't they? He wasn't really there.
I'm going to have to call him when I wake up, Finland decided. Or text him, or something. Maybe he missed Sweden after all - even if it hadn't been that long.
He sighed under the firm kiss, taking in the press of Sweden's mouth, and the scent of his cologne mixed with the thick fragrance of the flowers in the air, and the way his hand trailed downward. Down over his chest, down along his hip, until it came to rest squarely on Finland's thigh, broad and warm, long fingers sprawling. Finland grinned into the kiss, then pulled back, resting against the back of the bench.
Slowly, he traced the line of Sweden's jaw with his fingertips, brushed against his lips with his thumb, taking in the look of contentment he saw on his face. "Well," he said. "What do you have in mind?"
There was a moment before Sweden responded. He tilted his head, brushing kisses against Finland's fingertips before he said anything, his eyes half-shut and relaxed. "What do you think I have in mind?"
His voice was a low murmur, but there was no hesitation in the way he deferred the question. Sweden's voice held a confidence that, at times like this, it normally didn't have, and Finland could feel himself becoming quickly uncomfortable in his trousers.
"I think you know," Finland said.
Of course Sweden knew. Of course he did.
Finland watched as Sweden drew away from him. He was blushing, but not half as much as he would under normal circumstances. Under real-world circumstances, Finland thought, correcting himself. But there was an attractive shade of pink on his cheeks regardless.
Sweden didn't say anything. Without a word, he removed his gloves, pushed up his glasses, and moved to sink down on his knees on the grass between Finland's feet.
Everything was fuzzy at the edges, and every moment was too quick and too silent, as if it wasn't really happening. As if everything was set to fast-forward by fractions of seconds. It was an unreal feeling. Finland closed his eyes, just from contentment, because in spite of the oddness of everything, it was pretty relaxing - but he could see everything in his mind even without looking at it. It was as if he could see through his eyelids, and if it weren't for what he was seeing, it would have been unnerving.
He could see Sweden's cheek resting against his thigh for a moment. Long-fingered hands opening his trousers. Sweden mouthing at his zipper before pulling it down.
Then he felt Sweden's lips wrapping around his cock: soft, slow, slick. Finland sucked in a breath and took hold of Sweden's hair, gently gripping the short strands and guiding his head down. He opened his eyes and watched as Sweden took it in slowly, lashes low on his cheeks, mouth making slick sounds as he dipped his head, then drew back, then dipped it again.
The sight in front of him moved too quickly, all of it. Finland gasped as he took in a breath and tried to hold what he was seeing. The images in front of his eyes were blurring, moving faster than they should have been, he couldn't get them to stay put even if it was his dream - and what was worse, he could feel himself getting close, almost finished as the dream was finishing, and that wasn't fair! Normally that stirring feeling in his belly wouldn't come for a while yet.
Goddamnit.
"Go slower," Finland whispered, tightening his grip on Sweden's hair, trying to make everything slow down, trying to make it last. But time was moving more quickly than that, and no matter what Finland did, no matter how hard he tried to hang on to the sensation of Sweden between his legs, the dream was unravelling.
"Oh, fuck-"
Finland opened his eyes. He drew in a deep breath. Blinked for a second or two.
Across from him on the night stand the alarm clock read 7:55. Five minutes before it was set to beep.
He turned it off.
The dream was rapidly fading from his mind, but Finland remembered enough of it to know that it was responsible for the hardon between his legs. He pressed his face into the pillow, not wanting to get up, not for a few more minutes at least.
It had been a nice dream. A little weird, but not the weirdest he'd ever had, not by far. It wasn't as if Sweden had suddenly sprouted tentacles or anything. That would have been weird. He thought of the scent of the flowers, the too-green freshness of the garden, and Sweden - so good-looking in his old-fashioned clothing.
... And the rest. There was that, too.
He finished himself off in the shower, cheek pressed against the tiles, breath quick as the warm water fell down on him. Even though he was alone, it didn't take much to imagine that his hand was Sweden's hand, or his mouth, or -
It didn't take him long.
Later, as he waited for the coffee to brew, still-damp hair plastered to his forehead, Finland took up his phone and stared at it. I should call him, he thought. I should. It'd be nice to see him again.
... Not just because of the dream! Not just because of that kind of thing. Though it was one of the reasons, Finland admitted to himself as he scrolled through his contacts.
But just one of the reasons! Among many others.
Would he even be awake yet? Finland stared at Sweden's name in his phone and frowned. Maybe not. And even if he was, regardless of the early hour, that didn't mean he'd be all that good for talking - Sweden was always better with text messages than phones - but it wasn't as if they were going to have a long conversation, and-
"Oh, hell," Finland muttered under his breath. Fine. He let it dial. Why wait?
The voice that greeted him on the other end of the line wasn't the most coherent he'd ever heard, even by Sweden's standards. "Hnh?" Sweden grunted, sounding like a bear roused from hibernation.
Well, that was good enough for Finland. "Good morning!" he said, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he went to pour himself a coffee. "Did I wake you?"
"...Nnh."
"Um." Was that a no? Well, good enough. "Great! You know, I was thinking, it's been a while since I last saw you. Are you busy this weekend?"
There was a long pause on the other end. For a moment, Finland stood and waited, biting at his lip and stirring at his coffee and hoping. Don't tell me you're busy, he thought.
"... No?"
"Great! I'll come over on the boat for a few days. Is that fine?"
Another long pause. "Ya' missed me?"
The disbelief in Sweden's voice was probably more obvious than he had meant it to be. Are you that surprised? Finland wondered, biting back the urge to say it. ... Then again, it had been a while. Too long. Maybe he'd thought it meant something, even if it didn't, not at all. "I'd like to see you again, that's all," he said, smiling and hoping that it could be heard in his voice. "Okay?"
"Nh. Okay."
Maybe - maybe, Finland thought as he hung up and took up his coffee, there was a little more to it than that. But after all, Sweden already knew. 'Ya missed me?' Of course he knew!
He didn't have to say it.
End