Ever since he could remember, Berwald had been a morning person. For centuries his sleeping habits had been regular enough to set a watch by - up at six, down at eleven for seven good solid hours of rest. So, when he spent his first night in over a hundred years staring at the same spot on the ceiling for six long hours and over-slept by three hours the next morning, he knew something as wrong. He'd never had much trouble sleeping before - his days were long and productive with rarely an idle moment, therefore sleep came easily to him as soon as his head hit the pillow. But then again, he'd never been in love before.

Berwald wasn't entirely sure when the trouble started again. His only warning was that first restless night, and then there came the gradual realisation that he was completely, singularly and terrifyingly in love. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him soaked to the bone and more than a little confused. He'd loved Tino from the very moment he'd seen him of course, but it never occured to the older nation that it could ever be anything more than a selfish desire - that he could ever be [i]in[/i] love with him. For years Berwald has lusted, and Tino had violently spurred his advances time and time again until he simply stopped trying because it just hurt too much - his pride, his feelings, his body. They were closer now than they ever had been after a long peace, with a home and family and some sad little thing that was almost a working relationship, but the gap between them was still so entirely unbridgable in his eyes. They had lived together for so long that he'd gotten 'used to' being around him, and had came to accept that thing were just the way they were. However, his jarring revelation had turned everything on it's head. Not only were his nights suffering, but so were his days - he took less and less pleasure in his work, and frequently found himself doing absolutely nothing at all; wandering aimlessly, staring blankly, sighing heavily and other such cliches. To make matters worse, Tino had definitely noticed something was wrong. He had been constantly on edge since it had all began, just like the old days - mistaking unrequited love for something certainly more sinister even though he was quite sure Berwald would never hurt him again.

Bathed in midmorning light, peeling vegetables by the kitchen sink and humming quite happily to himself, Tino looked like some sort of domestic angel haloed by the sunshine in his white-blonde hair. In a dozen pots and pans - bright copper and stainless steel polished to perfection - his half smile and lidded eyes were reflected with the light that made shimmering patterns on the ceiling and walls. Berwald knew his position just beyond the door frame was as yet undiscovered because he never looked so contented when they were together, and took some small comfort in the peaceful countenance of his wife. He wanted him to be happy, he wanted the world for him, but did Tino even have a clue? A leaden weight settled itself firmly on his broad shoulders, and he slumped against the wall as though it was too much for him. Still blissfully unaware of his quietly adoring audience, Tino lay down his peeler and instead went to pick up a wicked looking vegetable knife and a scarred chopping board from the worktop to his left. Immediately Berwald ducked from plain view - not wanting to be caught lurking in what was probably a very (accidentally) frightening manner - but peering round the door frame once more, his breath caught in his throat at what grabbed his attention. Head bowed, an inch or two of sweet pale skin was invitingly uncovered from beneath his loose cotton collar and Berwald was captivated. His heart skipped a beat and ached for him to stride across the kitchen and brand it with his lips as his property - all his. He knew he could if he wanted to, and he might have all those years ago before his love had tempered his lust. He wouldn't be met with much if any resistance, not anymore; but nor would he be met with a laugh and a smile, or an arch into that light touch as a small hand found his and what was the point then? It would only be more trouble than either of them cared for. More trouble than it was worth. Berwald almost missed those days of raking nails, bitten lips and bloody curses spat in language more lyrical than his own.

He cursed and composed himself, cheeks threatening to burn with the shame of getting so excited by the mere sight of skin. He adjusted the collar of his blandly blue shirt and took a deep breath before stepping almost confidently into the kitchen. Immediately Tino spun around, perhaps a little too quickly to be casual, and smiled brightly.

"Oh, good morning Su-san. You're up late again," he chirped, homely calm scattered to the wind. He moved to the stove-top with a bowl in his hand, and ladeled a generous portion of oatmeal into it before setting it down on the table, "Now, I didn't add salt to it this morning so you can have it with honey and milk for a change, if you would like."

"'S fine," came the grunted reply as Berwald pulled the bowl towards him and took the spoon that was presented with it.

"There's also some bilberries too, I picked them yesterday. They're not quite ripe yet but I'm sure with a little bit of h-"

"'S fine. Th'nk y'."

"Ah. Okay then. If you need anything..."

Berwald met his wife's expectant gaze as he took a large spoonful of oatmeal, as though to emphasize his point. Tino nodded once, and reluctantly turned back to preparing lunch now that he had been assured all was well with breakfast. Of course, without salt or milk or any other luxury it was little more than thick gruel but Berwald didn't care. It was delicious in it's own way. Delicious in Tino's way. He carefully took another spoonful, staring at the rim of the simple bowl to avoid staring at the bow of the simple apron, resting on the small of the other nation's back. Berwald cleared his throat slightly, making Tino look sharply over his shoulder.

"Where's P'ter?" he asked, half to break the silence and half because he genuinely hadn't seen any sign of his son that morning.

"Oh yes, sorry, I forgot to mention that he's staying with Raivis tonight."

"Hm?"

"I-is that okay? He asked this morning while you were still sleeping, and I didn't want to disturb you..."

"Fine b'me," Berwald said with a shrug, smoothing the worried frown from Tino's brow. He was more concerned with how he fretted over something as simple as asking his permission when he was the boy's 'mother' after all. Still, there was a little movement in his wife's deliciate hands that told him that wasn't all that was troubling him. He sat his spoon down gently, "S'methin' wrong?"

"Oh! It's nothing, really..." he said at once, with a dismissive wave of his hand. However, he quickly wilted under Berwald's steady gaze, "It's just - well, it's just I'm a little bit worried."

"..."

"I mean, Peter's only young and so are Raivis and Eduard and - and what if something were to happen? After all, they are so close to Russia, and you know what he's like especally now Toris has left them. I-I should call him, tell him to come home for dinner or something..."

"It'll b'okay," Berwald said reassuringly, knowing full well that Tino's worries were well founded but couldn't stand to see him so distressed, "P'ter's a clever boy, 'nd Ravis 'nd Eduard're good 'nd kind. He's m'kin' new friends, he needs that. R'member, they're j'st across th' water. He'll b'fine, I promise."

"You're probably right. Yes, yes, Eduard is very trustworthy. Oh Su-san - I just can't help but worry about him sometimes, he's so small..."

"He's tougher th'n you or me anyway," he said, but his wife didn't look any happier. Tears pricked those bright eyes, and a pain twinged deep in his chest at the sight of them. He wished that he could have scooped him up and simply kissed away his concerns rather than fumbling with ungainly, clumsy words but once again he swallowed down his surging emotions with another spoonful of hot plain oatmeal. Tino blinked back the threat of tears and took a deep breath to regain composure, his small hands twisting fretfully in the clean white linen of his neat apron.

"I'm making köttsoppa for lunch," he said levelly - almost brightly again - as he turned back to his chopping board. Berwald nodded even though he couldn't be seen and wolfed down the last of his breakfast. He was certain it would be absolutely delicious as always but the less time he spent with Tino at that moment, the better. He stood quickly and excused himself before swiftly making his escape. "Yes, I think those bilberries will make a lovely blåbärssoppa."

Berwald's step faultered at the door, just by the place he had been hiding before. He turned and stared at the narrow back of his spouse feeling desperately torn. He groped for something to do, anything short of ordering Peter home.

"I'll...I'll go phone Toris 'n' Feliks. Ask 'em to keep an eye 'n the boys. That'll be enough."