Sweets

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia...

"Don't you want a cookie?" asked Finland. Sweden briefly glanced up from the novel he was reading.

"No thanks," he muttered, his usual deep voice softening slightly as he addressed Finland.

"Are you sure? They just came out of the oven," said Finland, hoping to successfully entice the taller Nordic to accept a treat.

A hint of a smile played on Sweden's lips, but he regained his composure and simply shrugged. "Alright then."

Finland cheered internally and plucked a warm cookie from the cooling rack, grabbing a napkin on his way back to the sofa where Sweden was sitting. "Here you go!"

Sweden thanked the shorter blond and took the cookie. It smelled sweet and the chocolate in it was still slightly melted. Deciding that he would eat anything made by his wife anyways, he opened his mouth and took a bite of the biscuit.

It was sweet, the perfect amount of sugar. Sweden mentally acknowledged the fact that Finland was a wonderful baker.

"S'good."

Finland smiled. "Glad to hear it!"

Sweden, for all his protests that he did not like sweets, finished the cookie quickly. He decided that he would make an exception about his dislike for sweets when it came to Finland's baking.

Speaking of Finland, the shorter nation was eyeing Sweden strangely.

"What?" asked Sweden, turning to face Finland.

"Crumbs," said Finland, laughing slightly. Sweden attempted to get a glance at the offending cookie crumbs, but his mouth was not in his field of vision. His hand rose automatically to brush the crumbs away, but Finland grabbed his arm.

"Hold on..." Finland said. "Here, let me take care of it..."

Finland knelt on the sofa and leaned towards Sweden's face, his hand armed with the napkin from earlier. "Hold still."

Sweden gulped minutely and froze as he realized that Finland was very close to him.

The soft scrapings of the paper napkin on the corner of his mouth snapped Sweden out of his daze, and Finland leaned back, head tilted. "All done!"

The short nation stood up and went back to the kitchen, no doubt to pull more cookies out of the oven or to place the ones already cooled in a container of some sort. Sweden watched him go and then lifted a hand to the side of his lips from which Finland had brushed the crumbs away from.

Sweden pulled off his glasses and set them aside.

Maybe he should eat Finland's cookies more often.