"So marry me, I'll be your queen bee, I'll love you endlessly . . ."
Sweden couldn't find a way to cover the layer of blush on his face. He was supposed to remain unbiased; he was the host country of Eurovision 2013! The experience was nothing new to him, but the singer on stage bounced around in a wedding dress and smiled at the audience. This is what Finland sent to the competition—to him. He tried desperately to sip his coffee, but he nearly choked. He was swallowing way too fast.
Was Finland trying to tell him something through this tongue-in-cheek song? Again, the coffee slipped down his throat too quickly. Marry me. Sweden decided he was being ridiculous. Finland no longer lived in his house. The years had past, and the two nations were only friends. Even so, Sweden still found himself attracted to his ex-housemate. He convinced himself that the song meant nothing; it was simply a fun song meant to win over the crowd. In the process, it had won Sweden's heart.
He kept his eyes on the performance. Krista Siegfrids was animated and exciting to watch; that was for sure. His heart pounded out of rhythm as the song ended. The blonde singer leaned over to her backup dancer and kissed her—
Sweden nearly fell out of his seat. This had to be a message for him. Marry me—if he remembered correctly, Krista was singing to a man in the music video . . . he had to be misjudging this. Finland didn't want this. But that can't be true, he thought, if this is what I'm seeing on the stage . . .
He needed more coffee.
It was very late by the time the competition ended. Finland had advanced to the finals, much to Sweden's conflicting emotions. He was incredibly happy for him, but at the same time, it meant that he had to endure his act again—and once was bad enough. Sighing, he walked out of the theater, seeking fresh air and refuge from his thoughts.
Instead of refuge, he found a blonde in a poofy white dress with an asymmetrical skirt, a white veil, and a cheerful expression on his face. Sweden's heart pounded heavily and he froze as Finland winked.
"Great performance tonight, huh?" he took two steps towards the shocked host. His dress bounced. "I've dressed like this to support Krista! You know how it is in the competition." Yes, he did. Often, nations would show up dressed like their performers. He couldn't forget the year Denmark dressed in drag and Ukraine sported a silver robe with the number 69 on the back. And he certainly couldn't forget this. "Do you like it?"
"I . . . um . . . mm . . ." Sweden couldn't speak. Finland was adorable, and he was wearing a wedding dress, and he wanted to hold him so badly . . . "Good performance." His words sounded choppy and choked. Finland paid no mind; he simply came closer and stroked his arm.
He was dying for an excuse to leave. He couldn't' handle Finland right now. The week was busy, and Eurovision wasn't his only job. He wanted his sleep, yet he couldn't leave. He couldn't possibly look away when Finland smiled.
"You know you loved it." Finland winked, setting Sweden's face on fire. Get me away from here, he begged silently. Sweden didn't get his wish. "Are you sure that's all you have to say about it?"
"Um . . ." Maybe if he responded, he could leave. "Why did she kiss her at the end?" Finland laughed shyly.
"Oh, that? She's promoting same-sex marriage in Finland! You know, gays can marry in your house, and it hasn't caused any sort of chaos, so I'm happy for her efforts." Sweden's heart sank. Of course the kiss wasn't giving him a message. He had tried to convince himself of it, but a part of him desperately wanted Finland to communicate those desires towards him. All along, the performance wasn't for him, and he had been stupid to think that. "What's wrong—not that I think you're upset, of course!"
He had no choice but to tell the truth. Lying to Finland was near impossible.
"Thought you wanted to marry me," he admitted, though every word pained him. It was embarrassing. "Stupid, huh?" He watched as Finland's cheeks grew rosy. He stared at the ground and fiddled with his fingers.
"Um, well . . . I kind of do," he admitted, the tips of his ears burning red. "You've always been nice to me, even if you are kind of scary, and I think I love you, and I miss you—" he stopped speaking abruptly, still avoiding eye contact. "I'll love you endlessly."
"Now you're speaking in song," Sweden laughed, unsure of what to make of this confession. Butterflies floated everywhere inside of him. The cool air did nothing to stop his burning face, and his chest felt so light he thought he would become sick.
"And do know what to sing back to me?" Finland bit his lip, causing Sweden's thoughts to spiral out of control. Here was his love, admitting that he wanted to marry him . . . it was so surreal, and he didn't want to wake up from this dream. Finland bounced nervously in his dress; it exposed his legs, and the top exposed his arms. He stared from the shorter blonde and back, at his face, at his dress, at his everything. They were both in love, though he never would have realized it on his own. Until this moment, he could never imagine how wonderful it would be.
"I do," he spoke, at first uncertainly, before a tune carried his words. "I do, I do, I do, I do, I do."
A/N: I've been generally uninspired lately. Additionally, I've learned of the Eurovision Song Contest. This story was the result. If I've messed up anything about Eurovision (I'm American), feel free to correct me. Thank you for reading :)