I have a feeling I should be sorry for writing this. I'm sorry for not being sorry. Complete (horrible) crack-fic, that my friend and I came up with when our discussion about how to fix a problem between Denmark and Sweden (in a rp) turned quite out of hand. Don't worry, things like what happen here won't happen in our rp.
Not beta-read.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own the characters. I only do this for fun, and for the sake of the fandom.

When two people live together, and have done so for quite some time – say, a few hundred years – they quickly learn to pick up the other's personal quirks. They decide if they're weird, cute, scary, shocking, terrifying, adorable, fascinating, or they use another fine adjective for them. After having categorised them, the persons try to either bring them out more, or knock them back.

Most of the time, that is. In Finland's case, he knew that Sweden had some weird habits and some seriously adorable ones. The "weird"-category included things like Sweden taking exactly fifty sit-ups in the morning, before doing anything else, and finding Sweden singing, or at least humming, to whatever furniture he might be building at the moment. It had been an odd silence when Finland barged into the shed to ask Sweden for help with something and then found him singing ABBA's "Dancing Queen" to a rather undancing couch. Sweden hadn't as much as batted an eye but a few hours later, when they ate dinner, he asked that Finland never told anyone about this. He found it embarrassing, and it was bad enough that Finland knew.

Of course, Finland had already agreed to himself never to tell this little quirk of Sweden's, and he made sure to reassure Sweden that his secret was safe with him. An obviously relieved Sweden almost smiled at him, then nodded and continued eating.

Some of Sweden's more adorable quirks were that whenever he played with Hanatamago, he always went all in. You wouldn't think it but he would often lay down on all fours in the grass, in front of Hanatamago, and pretend that he was another dog, so that Hanatamago would bark and growl, not really understanding why one of her masters suddenly acted weird. But whatever she thought, she always enjoyed the playing, and even when Sweden growled – freakily much like a big and very real dog – she barked at him and jumped up to lick his face.
Another quirk that followed this was when Sweden couldn't suppress a loud laugh and rolled onto his back, sometimes holding Hanatamago high above him like one would do with a child, or sometimes just waiting for her to jump onto his stomach and lick his face all over. Either way, he would be laughing and ruffling the fluffy dog's fur, much to her delight.

Finland always watched this from a distance. He dared not interfere with their playing, in case he might ruin something. And it was pretty damn sure that he would be in need of shutting himself up like a telescope when Sweden started laughing – the sound was so very precious that Finland squealed behind his hand, face heating up brightly for whatever reason. He was pretty sure Sweden knew what he thought of the sound but Sweden never made it without any real reason. Only when he was really, really happy.

Sweden had, of course, also picked up some of Finland's quirks. And while he had found both adorable and freaky ones, the "adorable"-category clearly outweighed the "freaky". A lot of people would probably find more of the quirks creepy or freaky, but Sweden wasn't a completely normal man himself.

However, he liked to watch Finland when he was cleaning his guns. He also sang, using a different tune depending on which gun or rifle he was cleaning. Sweden had learnt, after many months of watching, that he used a fast and upbeat tune whenever he polished the handguns, and that he used a slower and more affectionate note when the turn came to the rifles. Carefully sliding a white cloth over the barrel, he closed his eyes and sang softly to the weapon, as if it was a most precious child (although Finland did not really want a child).

Sweden found this little quick very endearing, although others would probably categorise it "weird". However, a thing that really freaked Sweden out was a drunk Finland. Every so often, Finland would go out with Russia, the Baltics and Poland to have "a few" drinks. But it was very clear when he got home that he had drunk at least three bottles of vodka by himself. Sweden didn't even want to think about how expensive that would have been, but he didn't really want to stay or talk with Finland, either.

Because when Finland got drunk, he turned mad. Cursed and only growling in his own language – or sometimes even shutting up completely, not saying a word and just staring deadly at Sweden until he crawled away – he was raving about, threatening everything that he declared an obstacle, then trying to smash it. And if Sweden tried to stop him – which he did every third time or so – he would be threatened with a very long and very sharp knife. To prove how sharp it was, Finland had, rather gently, too, poked his index finger with the tip, where after blood instantly flowed. Said finger was the flailed randomly in Sweden's face.

Finland refused to let Sweden fix the wound, saying that Sweden should stop being so overprotective and just let him be the hell alone! Of course in drunk Finnish (although Finnish and drunk Finnish sound much the same). Knowing nothing of his partner's odd and beastly language, Sweden hadn't got a chance to know what to do but a shake of the knife in his direction, followed by a curse and insane glare, was enough to get him to be on his way, and he retreated to the basement.

In the basement, he was safe. Even when Finland was drunk off his ass. Once, when Finland had peeped down into the darkness, he had heard nothing but loud ABBA and a rather pitiful sound, that had more in common with crying than Finland wanted to deal with. When Sweden later came up from the basement, Finland had sent him a strange look but all that Sweden had said was "Don't go down into the basement. Private stuff."

And Finland had no desire to see what private stuff Sweden was hiding in the basement. If he had had a feeling it was something kinky, like leather, chains, masks or erotic costumes, then he probably wouldn't have stayed away. But his stomach said there was nothing of that sort in the basement, and then Finland had no interest in risking making Sweden angry, or maybe even sad. So the privacy of Sweden's basement was never endangered.

Which Sweden was eternally grateful for.

For what he hid in his basement would, without a doubt, have scared Finland far, far away from him. As well as Denmark, Norway, Iceland, and everyone else.

Because who could live with, or just accept, a man who grew babies in his basement?

Sweden had a laboratory in their shared basement, and in this laboratory, he grew babies. Real, small human babies, created from embryos and clones of these which he was able to grow to full foetuses. Of course, growing them from here was hard work and whenever a new set of embryos reached a state where they would have to be inserted into the mother's womb again, he was often stressed out and had a lot of things to do.

Poor Finland had no idea what was going on with Sweden and why he suddenly spent so much time with his private stuff in the basement. He worried for his dear husband but also knew that he shouldn't ask. He had tried that a few times before, just when they moved in, and it had been clear that Sweden desperately wanted the basement. Asking why he wanted it so badly, Sweden only said "Want to save belongings from the past" and nothing more, until Finland finally promised that he could have it. Finland wasn't that interested in it, anyway.

After that, he had asked if he could come down and see whatever Sweden was hiding down there. Sweden violently shook his head and said that he didn't want to show to Finland; it was much too private. Finland had pressed on for quite some time but it was clear that Sweden had no plans of changing his mind. And so, Finland drew a heavy breath, shrugged and turned on the heel, going to his weapons to polish them anew.

Knowing that Finland really, really wanted to know, it pained Sweden not to be able to. But he just couldn't, for pretty obvious reasons. If a man grew babies in a laboratory in a basement he shared with his same-gender partner, in the beginning to have the babies that Finland didn't want to have, and since he couldn't keep them or give them to donation – that would require a lot of paperwork and explanation when Sweden couldn't give the humans name of either mother or father – he had to use them for other purposes, which turned out to be for food – then how likely was it that he was kicked out?

Pretty likely. And Sweden was desperate to stay with Finland for as long as possible. He wouldn't let Finland's continuous refusal to have children ruin anything for them, even if he himself would really like some children around.

And not the kind he grew in his basement. They were only poor substitutes for the kids Sweden wanted but couldn't have. He treated them like he would treat his own kids (except that he wouldn't end up making those into foods); he read them stories, played with them, played music for them, and everything else. However, they never got to talk or to walk before their young lives were ended – Sweden knew that he would not be able to kill the baby if it said a real word to him; his heart would melt. If it learnt to walk and walked over to him while he worked, he wouldn't have the heart to make it to food.

So Sweden made sure to end their lives a good deal before they would normally learn to talk and walk. But until then, he made sure to treat them properly and quite possibly gave them the best life they could wish for, although it was very short.

The basement had two main sectors: One where the laboratory was, and one where the playground was. This place, Sweden had made sure to fill with babies' toys and he had made a tiny bookcase he had then filled with children's books he could read for the still unspeaking babies. He would sit with them for hours, reading them the wonderful stories, and smiling so softly every time the small babies giggled or reached out for his hand.

This, however, was another thing that Sweden had a hard time accepting. When they grabbed his hand, and he could so easily see the difference in size. Even Finland had smaller hands than him – a lot of people did, though – but it was something entirely different when it was nothing but a baby that held your finger with its hand, wrapped tightly around you, as if it didn't want you to leave.

But Sweden hadn't been able to stop the growth of the babies before they could do this. And in the end, he learned to accept it. There was nothing to be done. Since he could only have the babies for a very short amount of time, he might as well make the best of it. So for a short while, he allowed himself to be a real father, the amazing father he was sure he could be, and he took care of the babies.

Until it had to end. It hurt every single time. To stand with a little child in his arms, big and round eyes looking up at him, so unknowing of what was to come. Thinking that this could have been his own, if only Finland agreed to the idea. If only Finland would change his stubborn mind, then Sweden could be saved for a great, great deal of pain. Pain that he applied himself, yes, indeed, but pain that was almost outweighed by the joy these small creatures brought to him just by smiling at him.

They didn't have expectations to him, like everyone else did, and they didn't know his horrible past. They had no idea how his mind was working, they were clueless as to what would happen in just a few months. No idea at all.

It was horrible as well as it was for the best.

Sweden was not sure it would have been better if they aware of what was to come.

But every baby's life was ended sooner or later, and although Sweden never cried, never let his eyes moisturize, it was so impossibly hard on him. It was, however, the only way he could have a baby. He would become way too attached if he visited those poor souls in the orphanages, seeing them grow up without parents and without proper funds or proper environment. Ironically, an orphanage was no place for an orphan.

But then what happened when the babies were dead? Sweden turned them into various foods. Food that he and Finland ate. Foods such as ham, beef, pâté, bread from grounded bones that Hanatamago didn't get, and much more. Also juice.

Sweden wasn't without imagination when it came to what he could turn the babies into.

What more was, Finland even liked the food. He had asked Sweden a few times what in the world this delicious food might be but Sweden had grunted in response and shrugged. A surprised and slightly nervous Finland had then asked if it was bear. Sweden knew that Finland didn't like to eat bear, so of course, Sweden would nerve serve it to him.

So this time, Sweden had been truthful when he shook his head but otherwise didn't do anything to answer Finland's former question. It seemed to satisfy, though; the Finn looked relieved and kept eating. And so, Sweden kept on his little, rather insane project.

One time, when he was making dinner, Denmark barged into the house. He was invited by Finland, said he, but Finland looked completely taken by surprise and kept saying that no, he hadn't invited Denmark over. Whether it was not to make Sweden annoyed, or if he told the truth, Sweden did not knew, but he figured it didn't matter much. Now the idiot was here.

He might as well taste some of Sweden's fantastic food. And the Dane of course asked what awesome meat this was, and they both looked over at the cook who answered the question truthfully:

"Babies."

And Denmark laughed, and Finland laughed, and they both complimented Sweden's excellent, although dark humour. Sweden chuckled on the inside – such idiots, that did not know.

But as he said there, waiting for the laughter to die, he ate some more and he had to admit; this stuff was delicious.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea that Finland didn't want to have kids.

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