"You're still quite a piece of work, aren't you?"

Berwald recognized the voice almost instantly. He shifted, focusing on the painting in front of him. Nordlichter by Anders Zorn. He'd been staring at the work for at least ten minutes now.

He responded slowly, letting the clumsy words fall from his lips. "Mhm. Guess so."

Ludwig didn't offer an answer at first, instead stepping swiftly to stand at his side. The German studied the art in front of them silently.

Berwald risked stealing a glance at the younger man. Ludwig looked good. No, he looked great. He was dressed in a well-fitting black suit with a white button-down dress shirt beneath and a royal blue tie. It made Berwald nearly look down at his own clothing (A modest blue sweater and jeans) in vexation.

... Ludwig was better off without him, then. Probably found someone else. Someone better. Better than Berwald could ever be.

"Nice." Ludwig finally murmured, bringing the Swede from his thoughts.

"It is." he agreed.

"Not the painting."

"... Wha?"

Ludwig finally turned away from the painting to look at him with a droll stare, "You, Berwald. You look nice."

"Oh."

Oh.

"Still clueless, though hm?" the blonde asked in amusement.

The older man's cheeks flushed, "Yer fault." was his clipped reply.

A non-comical hum.

"So... Watchya doin' 'ere?"

"I'm looking at the paintings, same as you."

"Ah." Berwald turned his attention back to the picture. "... You wanna come with me?" he ventured hesitantly, furrowing his brows and frowning at the floor. It was still hard after all these years.

"Alright." Ludwig's easy reply caught him off guard. Without another word the German started off towards the hall briskly and he followed like a shadow.

It was probably easier of he joined Ludwig instead of Ludwig joining him anyway.

The pair navigated the halls together, not sparing so much as a glance to the other patrons or paintings (Ludwig's swift pace didn't give them the time) as they did so.

When the two finally stopped, Berwald was nearly out of breath. Ludwig took a few steps away and looked him up and down in appraisement. The Swede straightened self-consciously.

"Uncanny." the younger gestured to him and the picture he was now standing by.

Berwald looked. American Gothic*.

... Huh?

"What am I supposed to be seeing?" he asked tersely.

"You look exactly like him."

Ludwig supplied.

"Like who..?"

Again the blonde gestured to the picture, pointing to the old man. "You both wear that same frown."

Berwald raised a brow as he looked at the painting, then back to Ludwig. His lips twitched upward in a half-smile. "You look like her." he informed wittily nodding his head at the brooding old woman.

The German glared.

"Either way," Ludwig went on, wearily, "you smile sometimes. Like now-And when you do, it puts Mona Lisa to shame."

Berwald smiled.

A/N: Whoo, first SweGer/SuGer (I've always found the pairing name cute because it's like a misspelled "Sugar"). I was just thinking about Berwald's different facial expressions and American Gothic popped into my head AND WOULD NOT LEAVE so… Obviously the best thing to do was write a crappy crack story. Read and Review, please?

* American Gothic by Grant Wood: . blogspot -OqCaDXAsLeI/ TxVRe5FsDlI/AAAAAAAABO w/qS_yrfn7kuM/s1600/ (Without spaces)