My 1st fanfiction-wish me luck and review fairly :)
Sweden yawned as he poured himself a steaming cup of coffee from the chrome percolator on the stove. Even though it was saturday, he had taken it upon himself to get up early in order to do some housework. He had been up for about an hour now, scrubbing, dusting, folding laundry, or doing whatever else needed to be done to keep the house spotless. Now it was about the time of morning when Finland usually got up, and Sweden was taking a break in order to give him a quick "g'mornin'" when he got out of bed. He took a sip from the brimming cup and soon afterwards heard the usual rustling of bedsheets and sound of footsteps signifying that Finland was awake. Sweden smiled gently, happy to greet his so-called "wife", and to hear him chattering about whatever was on his mind while he made their breakfast for the morning. Sweden heard the footsteps coming closer and soon enough saw the small blond man stumble tiredly into their small but comfortable kitchen. Sweden took another sip of coffee, waiting for Finland to start the conversation. Two minutes-no three went by, and Finland said nothing. He didn't even give Sweden so much as a smile. Sweden wasn't much of a talker himself, so he understood that Finland might not be in the mood for talking at the moment, but it struck him as a bit unusual to see his normally affectionate blond partner completely ignore him. He decided to do something unusual and the took the burden of starting the conversation upon himself.
"G'morning Finland". he said quietly, while Finland rummaged through the fridge for something to eat.
Finland turned his head abruptly to look Sweden in the eye, and then gave him an icy glare that would but any agitated DMV worker to shame. He closed the refrigerator door without taking anything out and then immediately started shuffling the contents of the silverware drawer, as if to look for something important.
" 're you okay?"
Finland removed a large butcher knife from the drawer and immediately thrashed it through the air at nothing in particular. Sweden was worried now. Having Finland not talk to him was one thing, but having him give his beloved husband dirty looks and pulling out a weapon before breakfast was something else entirely. Sweden got up from his chair and started approaching Finland, in order see if some physical advancement towards him would reveal what Sweden's verbal attempts to communicate with him wouldn't.
Bad move. Bad. Move.
Finland jutted his knife at Sweden sharply, who ducked just in time to avoid getting a nasty gash on his shoulder. Sweden instinctively bolted to the other end of the kitchen, and Finland followed soon after, still waving the knife in his hand. Sweden fumbled to put on a pair of slippers as quickly as he could, and then dashed outside to gear up his car. Fortunately, Sweden had the keys to his Volkswagen in the pocket of his robe, and he was able to gear up the engines just in the nick of time before Finland-wait, was he actually trying to knife down the car? Sweden was in too much shock to pay much attention to this strange (and seeming futile) gesture. The last thing he saw as he pulled away from the house was an angry Finland, still wearing that "don't you dare fuck with me" look on his face, and still carrying the knife in his hand.