Tino Väinämöinen drove through a road lined with trees. He could see the lake through the trees some distance away from the road, the rising sun glittered on the soft-rippling surface.

He had travelled an half an hour from his home in Helsinki to his cottage on the lake. He should have been there 10 minutes ago to greet Berwald, but for reasons related to daydreaming about the weekend, he had left later than expected. His car left the dirt road and met gravel as he pulled up to the white cottage. He parked anywhere, as there was no set parking space, but the swerve of his car as he halted quickly would have seemed hazardous to anyone watching. Tino slid from his sedan and swung the door closed, humming as he saw Berwald's car parked near the edge of the property. Berwald always seemed to try to take up as little space as possible…

Tino heard gravel crunch, and he turned toward it to meet his friend.

"Were you being chased?" Berwald's voice was deep, but the confusion was still evident.

"No. Why would you say that?" Tino didn't wait for an answer. "Come on! Sorry I kept you waiting. How long have you been here?"

"'Bout five min'tes?"

"Good! Good. So it wasn't long. Do you want to eat something first? I think I still have stuff around here." Finland led Berwald into the house, past the living room and into the little kitchen where he started pulling open cabinets. Berwald watched him, compiling a list of food they'd need.

"Oh. Nothing." He gave an embarrassed laugh. "We'll have to go shopping. Should we make a list? What do you think Denmark will want? He and you probably eat the most."

"Meatballs…Sausage…Herring…"

"Herring! Did you bring—"

"That's Norge."

"Right! I wonder how he'll get that through customs. Maybe you should have brought it."

Berwald stared at him. When he had invited them for Midsummer Celebration, Finland had been the one to assign which items to bring, even after Norway pointed out the problem that bringing pickled-herring across three states posed. Had he really not heard or had he just forgotten?

Whichever the case, Finland seemed to forget what he was saying now. "I should write this down! Let me get a pen." He said and ran out of the room.

"And paper."

"Right!" Finland shouted over his shoulder as he dashed upstairs.

Finland pulled his final set of logs around the back of the cottage, leaning them against the side of the house. In retrospect, he should have had Sweden do this heavy work, but he considered himself pretty strong, too. It was just too important for him to have the architecture-loving Swede set up the fire-pit; stones were never as meticulously placed as when Berwald placed them.

Speaking of which, he should have been done a while ago.

"Ber?" Finland craned his neck around, as if he might find Sweden miraculously above or behind him, before rounding the side of the house. There he found Sweden hanging flowers on a leafy maypole.

"Wha-Where did you get that?" Finland said, staring up at the flowers fluttering in the late-afternoon breeze.

"Brought it." Sweden said, looking at Finland but gesturing his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of his car.

"Berwald, that's very nice." Finland stepped towards him, speaking softly. "But with just the five of us, I don't think we'll be doing any dancing." He smiled comfortingly and patted Sweden's arm, trying to soothe the heartbreaking letdown.

Berwald nodded gravely, having seen the tragic turn of events coming. "'S just for decoration." He didn't add "and maybe dancing" like he wanted.

Finland nodded his head in a similar fashion. "And a nice decoration it is. Let's go see if there's anything else to do inside the house, then I'll make dinner."

"Don't think there's. I'll set up m' bed."

Finland started leading Sweden back to the cottage. "I already set up the bed. If you want to set up the other rooms for the boys you could do that."

Sweden stared intently at the Finn's head as he followed him back, the Sweden-equivalent of raising an eyebrow.

It was Saturday, and about 12 when Norway and Iceland breezed through. Finland wasn't surprised that they showed up together, but—

"Where's Denmark?" Finland asked when he greeted them at the door. "He usually catches you at the airport."

Norway shrugged, stepping in and one-handedly passing a large jar of pickled-herring to Finland, using the other hand to check his phone.

"He hasn't updated since he boarded the plane." He said, flipping his thumb across the screen.

Iceland, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway with bags and luggage, cleared his throat, signaling Norway to move. He didn't. With a loud sigh, Iceland pushed past his older-brother, swinging a brown grocery bag towards Finland.

"Happy Midsummer. Which room will I be in? I'd like to put down our stuff." Iceland said pointedly, jerking his head towards Norway, whose eyes only flickered up to glance at the boy before looking back down again and giving a displeased grimace.

"Yes, which are our rooms? I need to charge this." He rattled his phone for Finland to see.

"Upstairs, third and fourth doors." Finland beamed. He surveyed the inside of the bag. "But you can charge it down here if you'd like to keep it close. Wow, three jars! Are these homemade?"

Norway looked mildly offended. "Of course they are. Where's the outlet?"

"Living room."

Norway moved down the hall, giving Iceland room to make his way to the stairs. He hauled the luggage up the stairs and down the hall, dropping it carelessly in front of the third door. All he needed was in the bag on his back and the carrier slung around his waist.

Iceland stared at the door a minute before shouting downstairs. "I want whichever room has a desk!" His voice carried down the hall as he checked both rooms, choosing the third and shoving Norway's things to the other door.

Downstairs, Norway pulled his charger from his pocket and sat down on a loveseat nearest the outlet.

He called to Finland in the kitchen."Mathias is here, apparently."
Finland finished putting the jars in the cabinet then went quickly to open the door, already smiling wide, ready to greet. He popped his head outside, looking left and right, then closed the door and backed up into the living room.

"Niels? There's nobody—"

Norway's incredulous squint made him quiet down.

"Here, not here-here." Niels said, swinging his phone. "He just updated from the airport."

"Then he's gonna be 'bout 30 minutes." Berwald said appearing from the kitchen.

"That's not too bad! We can start cooking when he gets here, then bonfire, then fun!"

Three hours later, Tino could tell Norway was getting angry.

"This is so stupid of him. I wouldn't be surprised if he were in a ditch somewhere, or at the bottom of that lake!" Norway gestured wildly to the window and the lake, mouth set and eyebrows strung together.

"I'm sure he's fine, Niels." Tino was now sitting on the seat next to Niels and patting his shoulder in a soothing manner—soothing for people that aren't Norway. "He's probably just got lost. Even though he's been here before… A couple of times…" Finland's gaze drifted off as he contemplated whether getting lost on your way to a place you'd been before was possible.

Norway leaned in to Finland, about to tell him a secret.

"Shhhhhhhh." He whispered, causing Finland to cringe.

BANG

Finland jumped and Norway's head snapped up.

"I'm here!" Denmark shouted, bounding in with bags and bundles. He turned to shut the door, but found that he couldn't.

"You should get stronger hinges, Finn, these were pretty weak!"

"I'M the one that put them on! They were plenty strong!" Berwald said in his-reprimanding-Denmark voice (the loudest voice he ever used).

"Well what about this wall! Cracked like a, well, like a cracker!"

Norway stood and strode over to Denmark, poking him in the chest to reprimand him as well. "There's no need to come in like that, you're the only one's who's broken it, none of us have!"

Denmark put on a compliant smile. "I'm sorry, Norge. But that's probably because I'm the strongest!"

Iceland saved Denmark from an ear-pulling when Iceland shouted from the base of the stairs, "You broke the wall?"

"Yup! I also brought the beer!" He waved one bag up near his ear. "I also brought flags!" He waved the other bag.

"Why would we need flags? Where did you get flags?"

"Got them at a shop on my way here so we could hoist them at 6! Shop was next to the liquor store." Denmark was obviously very pleased with himself.

"Um, we could do that, but—" Finland looked to Sweden for the lost words to his thought, but Norway filled it in for him instead.

"Did you also buy poles for us to hang them from? I'm sure Finland only has one!"

"Special rope." Denmark kept waving his bags. "It's okay, Norge, I thought of everything!"

"'Cept being here on time."

"Berrrrrr." Denmark pointed at him warningly, but had no plans to form a complete thought.

Finland went to take the bags from him. "Well now that you're here we can cook! It's getting late, but we still have all of today and all of tomorrow to hang out together."

"Do I smell balls?" Denmark asked, sniffing the air.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

"Meatballs. Meat. Balls. Geez, never try out a new shortening."

"Berwald started making them." Finland answered. "Rest of the meat is in the kitchen!" He called over his shoulder to Berwald, though no one was quite sure to whom he was referring.

So Denmark took up the position. "Where is the grill? I'll start cooking!"

"No." Sweden said.

"No?"
"No. Yer three hours late and my pallet's stronger."

"Like hell! Your stuff tastes strongly of shit!" Denmark gave himself a bonus point for what he thought was a clever comeback.

"You would know." Sweden threateningly took a step forward.

"You wanna say that to my face."
"You. Would. Know."

"Okay, that's it! I'm spitting in all of your food!"
"And that's why you're not cooking!"

Iceland, who had been watching from the stairs, sighed and turned back to his room where he had his laptop plugged in and waiting. Norway sat on the couch, watching broadly as the exchange went on.

Eventually Mathias won out when Tino frantically called that Berwald's meatballs were overcooking.

Finland set the picnic table near the fire-pit as Denmark cooked. Berwald sat at the table, facing the fire-pit and hunched over something Finland couldn't see. He was about to ask when Denmark called out that he needed more meat, so he dropped the matter and turned to head back into the kitchen.

Tino had a tray in hand when he near the living room archway.

"Norway, what are you doing?" The man had been on his phone almost all day.

"Photo-sharing." Niels said without looking up. "Men's Fashion is updating quite fast today."

Finland walked away, unsatisfied.

"Hey, I've been to that beach." Norway said to no one.

Tino walked from the hall into the backyard and had something immediately thrown on his head.

"Berwald! What is this?" He struggled to look up with his vision covered by flowers and leaves.

"That one's too big fer ya. Here." And he switched one wreath for another, clearing Tino's vision. "Better. Go put this one on his big head." Berwald gestured to Mathias.

"Um, alright?" Tino took the wreath, bewildered, and took the wreath and tray to Denmark.

"Berwald said to give you this."

Mathias turned. "Sweet! He makin' more?"

Tino tilted his head and raised a brow. "How many do you need?"

Mathias just shrugged.

"I'll be sure to tell him." Finland wandered over to where Sweden was working, but had no intention of telling him.

After a few seconds, Sweden realized Finland was there. He grabbed two more wreaths from his seat.

"You want to take these to Norge 'n Ice?"

When Finland walked back into the living room, he didn't find Norway. No Norway in the kitchen either. He checked upstairs and finally heard voices coming from Iceland's room. He poked his head in to see Iceland at his computer, Norway hovering around him.

"—all the kids are doing it."

"Yeah, all the five year olds!"

"Little brother, it'll fit in with the Midsummer mood. It will also help quell some angry trolls."

"Don't get Mr. Troll involved in this!"
"What's going on?" Finland asked, walking into the room, his mouth alight with a smile with which he hoped to calm nerves.

The two spoke at the same time. "Norway wants me to marry him!" "Ice won't marry me."

"Marriage? Those mock ones you used to do?" Finland laughed and sat on the bed. "Oh, well, it's not a real marriage! It just symbolism, Ice!"

"Don't you side with him!"

"You're the youngest here. You have to do it to stick to tradition." Norway said blankly.

"No one's done that in forever!"

Norway sucked in his teeth. "It was only two hundred years ago."

"It would be cute to have something that traditional happen today." Finland said whimsically.

Iceland stood from the desk. "You guys can dance around the maypole for tradition, I'm not doing it!" He stomped from the room, audible all the way down the hall and stairs.

"Mathias is almost done with the food!" Finland called, his hands cupped around his mouth. His hand brushed against the wreathes as he leaned back, and he remembered why he'd been upstairs in the first place.

"Berwald made you this." Tino handed a wreath to Niels, who picked it up and inspected it before gingerly setting it on his hair. He inspected himself in the mirror for a while, and then unceremoniously pulled one of the flowers from the crown. He leaned over Finland to push the flower under Iceland's pillow.

"Norway, I think that's for girls."

"It can happen." Norway took Finland's hand and pulled him towards the cookout. "Let's go before Denmark burns the house down."

Sometimes Finland thought it might have been genuine worry that prompted Norway to say these things, instead of anger or annoyance.