He stood alone in his workshop, but he didn't feel that way. The sawdust-covered benches and log-scented air never ceased to smell like home to him. Outside, white snow gleamed in the sunlight, causing the small shed to feel chilly. Sweden didn't mind the chill. He had long grown accustomed to it, being a Northern European nation. On the table in front of him, he admired his handiwork. At last, the project he had been working on for the past few months was finished. Scattered among the wooden table were several figurines, each one individually painted, representing his fellow nations; large, culturally accurate model dollhouses filled half of the table, though they remained unorganized. He laughed as he noticed France and England lying lifelessly in Switzerland's house; sensing a prompt, he picked up the Swiss nation and furrowed his eyebrows.
"Get off m' property," he growled, holding two dolls in his left hand.
"Oh mon Dieu! We must make our escape!" Sweden's French accent was terrible, but he didn't care. Nobody else could hear it. "Come, before we loose our heads!"
"Quit stalling, y' git!" Swede-England cried, moving the figures further away from wooden Switzerland. "We either escape now, or start the coupon bribes!" The little nations ran away, right into a pile of others. Sweden laughed a little, shaking his head. He was so childish, playing with wooden nations. Shouldn't he have other things to do? Somehow, building chairs or engaging in politics didn't seem as exciting as his playsets.
He had to say, he was quite impressed with his work. Denmark's hair stuck up perfectly, and the Italy brothers' curls, constructed from thin wire, were spot-on. However, he knew he had a favorite. He had worked the hardest on one figurine in particular.
With dry, overworked hands he held the miniature version of Finland, fingering his beautiful purple eyes and the blue fabric used to make his uniform. The wood smiled at him sweetly. He smiled back, astonished by how a doll could make his chest so tight and his heart beat so quickly. It took several tries to create this masterpiece. Now, in the privacy of his shed, he cleared away the others and set Finland in the living room of his model house. The little door opened as Sweden moved the figure of himself inside.
"Sweden, you're home!" he shook his head, knowing he could never perfect Finland's cheerful, melodic voice.
"Yes, m'wife. 've returned to you." His cheeks turned bright red as he moved mini-Finland close to mini-Sweden's lips.
"Norge's having a party tonight," his figure spoke, his Finnish accent still horribly off.
"Mm," mini-Sweden replied. "Should we bring food?" Sweden frowned. This conversation was tedious and expected. He wasn't actually talking to Finland—he was alone. He smirked, knowing very well that he did not have to stick so closely to reality.
"Kiss me, Sve," he murmured, hardly able to speak the words. His face burned as he raised the figures to eye level, their tiny faces touching. In his head, he pictured how those lips might feel. Finland lived in his house, but he was scared of his feelings for him. It was quite obvious he didn't return them. His secret was free inside the shed, Sweden's private domain. The figures rolled around in his hands as Sweden felt himself transported to another world, to a life where Finland would marry him and kiss him and . . .
Tears welled in his eyes, which were glued to his handiwork. He put so much work into his fantasies, into pretending. Silently, he pushed the two away, though he couldn't take his eyes off of them for long. Mini-Finland smiled at him. He reached for the wooden doll and held it against his cheek. Ever so delicately he placed his lips to its head, though it brought more of the winter chill than comfort.
"Sweden?" He stared first at the doll, then at the figure standing in the doorway of the shed. He must've not seen anyone enter; it explained the drastic change in temperature. Horrified, he froze in place, unable to move the figurine. Naturally, it caught unwanted attention. Finland's body inched closer to his, and for a brief, wonderful second their fingers touched. He removed his replica from his palm, leaving it empty. Without saying a word, Sweden watched as his love turned it over in his hand, eyeing all the little details he had put into it.
"Did you make this?" Sweden couldn't respond, not even with simple nods. Finland's eyes widened as he caught sight of the entire collection, houses and all. Mini-Sweden was standing alone, while the others remained discarded in a heap. Noticing this, Finland inched towards the table, pausing to stare at each individual nation. Eventually, in the thick silence, he lowered his hand slowly, propping the Finland figure delicately next to Sweden's. "He looks a lot happier here, doesn't he?" Sweden still couldn't find any way to speak. He was anxious, with both love and fear. How much had Finland seen? His cheeks were on fire and his heart raced; his palms were sweating and his knees felt weak. Never in his life had he felt more embarrassed. He lowered his head, only to find Finland coming closer. When he was confident that his love could feel his nervous energy, Finland raised his chin, stood on his toes, and placed a soft, fluttery kiss on his chapped, lonely lips.
A/N: Thank you for reading! The idea for this is nothing special - just a random headcanon that came to me today. I hope you enjoyed.