Author's note: Tumblr request (bagel-whisperer): « For the 14 days request- would you be able to do Sweden X Canada- it's okay if you don't want too, of course. » I really, really secretly love this pairing but wasn't sure what to do, so I went with a quick sort of love which I hope is ok; it just seems to fit them, like a secret you never tell anyone because it's too precious. And I love Canada so much, just want to pinch his cheeks and call him hunky.


Canadian passion

Matthew watches him across the room at the Arctic Council meeting. Alfred and Ivan were arguing but as it was half-past-two, that meant they were all right on schedule. Christen was napping, Lukas was laying against the Dane on the verge of joining him, Emil was frantically texting under the table, and Timo's eyes were so wide as he stared at the arguing nations that he was clearly daydreaming of other things.

The Canadian's attention, though, is fully dedicated to Berwald: the strong line of his jaw, the length of his nose, the width of his shoulders, how tight his shirt was across his chest, the way his whole body just seemed to exude masculinity. His tie is loose and his jacket hangs over the back of his chair and Matthew is pretty sure he's never seen someone look so handsome.

When the Swede looks to him Matthew smiles before realizing that was bad! bad! abort mission! Oh God! Luckily Alfred tires of Ivan and slings an arm around Matthew's shoulders, taking his brother's full attention for himself.


That night there's a knock on the hotel door and Matthew, who was tired after dinner with his brother, calls out, "Go away Alfie!"

No response comes.

And that's what first alerts the blond to the fact that this wasn't Alfred who would have been whining now that he wasn't leaving till he got what he wanted. Ivan maybe? Or Emil, Matthew was friendly enough with him that maybe he was visiting to borrow a phone charger.

Opening the door the Canadian finds himself staring at a chest, his eyes drifting up to Berwald's face.

"Oh," is all Matthew manages, Berwald walking into the room as he himself backed in. The Swede closes the door behind them, looking at Matthew with a mixture of intent curiosity and blank slate. "Hi," the Canadian finally manages to squeak out.

Berwald's response is to step forward, pull Matthew to his chest, and kiss him hard on the mouth. No lead-up, no kind words, just right for the kiss and the shorter man, too shocked to say a thing, let's him, melting into the Swede. Wherever those hands move he lets him touch; Matthew wasn't innocent and neither was Berwald, the two finding their way easily back to the bed.


At breakfast Matthew sits with his brother. Berwald had been gone before he'd awoken and the Canadian is almost done convincing himself that it had all been a dream, that maybe other nations had one-night stands like that but not with him. Not that passionately, no, no one was ever that passionate about boring Canada, not when he had Alfred beside him who was by far the more exciting brother.

Ivan is talking to someone, the Canadian observers, and when the pair parts the Russian joins him and Alfred at their table; Berwald sits with the other Nordics, muttering something to Timo before looking straight at Matthew.

And the Canadian would have sworn, for just a moment, Berwald Oxenstierna had smiled at him.

Matthew sighs.