Title: Courtship Rituals
Author: Emmachu (emmabirdy), IchiBen
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: [Sweden, Finland] [Denmark, Norway]
Rating: T
Warnings: There are, like, a lot of pickup lines.
"Finland?" Sweden prompted.
"What is it, Sve?" Finland said with a smile. His soft, angelic face was framed with his lovely blond hair. Sweden swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly dry.
Just do what Denmark told ya to, he thinks to himself. His more-or-less brother was always right…except for the time he'd tried to tell Sweden you couldn't fall through a roof. That was utterly wrong and Sweden'd known it, but it still required a trip to the emergency room. He shook his head; it was the wrong time to be thinking about broken legs.
"Er, d'd it hurt when y'fell from he'vn?" Sweden's heart was beating so loudly he figured they could hear it in Norway. Finland turned his head to one side.
"I'm sorry, Sweden, what did you say?"
"Did it - oh, n'vrmind." Sweden trailed off, mumbling. He really needed to talk to his speech therapist about these situations. "Nothin' important."
Finland continued to make his adorable confused face and Sweden tried to mentally un-redden his own face. "Okay, Sve. You know, you can tell me anything! Um, I have to go feed Hanatomago. And get Sealand his snack. Nice chatting with you!" And with that he turned and went back into his cottage and Sweden rubbed his temples, sighing. Yet another failed attempt.
If we are going by the number of times Sweden was not in complete denial of his feelings for Finland (which were, of course, noticed and commented upon in the most irritating manner by the other Nordics) or even the number of times he went drinking with Denmark and Norway, only to wind up confessing everything to them and demanding advice, this was only the first attempt. Denmark had become somewhat sick of having to take him home every Friday night and had exclaimed, "Well, just tell the guy!" before dumping him unceremoniously on his well-kept front lawn.
So Sweden had done some research into the subject. There were plenty of useful quizzes online that could give him somewhat mixed responses to "does my crush like me back" (for some reason, the fact that he had slept with Finland on their journey from Russia seemed especially significant). The whole asking your crush out thing, though, was far more difficult. There were so many options.
Sweden called Denmark.
"Easy! All you have to do is use some great pickup lines, and he won't be able to resist you. Like - Are you made of fluorine, iodine and neon? Because you are F-I-Ne! Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again? Are you the UPS man, because-"
"Think 've heard enough," Sweden said. "D'sn't sound like Fin."
"Well, okay," said Denmark. "What about: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"
That sounded alright to Sweden. Finland was an angel, after all. But now he'd managed to screw that idea up too. He sighed again.
The second attempt to successfully ask Finland out was put into motion about a week later. After the pickup-line disaster, Sweden decided to call Norway. Surely he'd have some sound advice.
"Just say, 'Hello, Finland, I think you're really attractive and you should date me.'" Norway intoned.
"'sn't that a little direct?" Sweden responded.
"Oh, maybe you should add an 'if you value your life, you'll take up this offer' to the end." Sweden grimaced. "Come on, death threats are totally legitimate."
"How's that w'rked with Den?"
There was some agitated huffing before the line went completely dead.
Sweden was beginning to think that his friends had some pretty bad ideas about what was actually supposed to happen in a relationship. Wonder how they manage. It was painfully obvious that they were dating, though that was not the best thing to mention to Norway. Norway always got a little...well, a little huffy whenever anyone brought up his relationship with the Dane. More so than usual, that is.
Sweden glanced up at the wall. His favorite calendar, the one with various pictures of kittens and puppies (and Finland), hung there. February's was his favorite - it had a picture of some sort of little dog that looked like Hanatamago, so it reminded him of Finland.
Wait - February. That meant it was going to be Valentine's Day soon, unless he'd already missed it (it wouldn't be the first time). But no, it was only the 11th. There could've been a worse time to come to terms with his feelings, he supposed.
The 7-Eleven had an excellent selection of red-and-pink colored products for sale. In fact, the entire store seemed to be colored some sickly shade of pink. Sweden shook his head and hoped to make his visit as quick as possible. Heading down the aisle of cards, he was just glancing up at a row of comical ones when he noticed a familiar figure standing next to him.
"F'nland?"
Finland squeaked and jumped a foot in the air. "H-hi, Sweden!" He quickly hid a card behind his back before Sweden had a chance to get a good look at it.
"What'r you doing here?" He asked, heart falling slightly.
"J-just a bit of shopping, because I um, heard the tax rates were lower over here." Finland stammered.
"Do y'have someone special f'r Valentine's?" Sweden said, not really wanting to hear the answer.
Finland turned bright red. "Sweden! Um, w-why do you ask?"
"No reas'n." Sweden mumbled. "I'll, uh, be goin' now." He gave a small wave and wandered off to the produce section. As much as 7-Eleven even has a produce section. He absentmindedly examined a wilted-looking cabbage, imagining it as a metaphor for his unrequited love. Then he changed his mind. Even his romantic life didn't look that scary.
He told himself he really didn't need to call Denmark again this week. It'd only been two days since they'd seen each other, after all. He'd get through this on his own.
He reached for his cell phone with shaking hands. "Denmark?"
RANDOM AND UNRELATED INTERLUDE: HOW DENNOR CAME TO BE!
Norway frowned. Something was off. Something was terribly wrong. Denmark had not said anything obnoxious to him all day. It was...terrifying...and...stuff. Norway paused. This was not the first time that he had realized his hate for the Dane was actually kind of an important aspect of his personality. Like, Norway without someone to mercilessly hate on? A fish without water. A bird without wings. A...a metaphor with no obvious purpose in this story or any applicable situation!
Norway frowned and went to find the Dane.
Now they were sitting awkwardly at Norway's kitchen table. Denmark kept glancing nervously into his [insert beverage], then back up at Norway with a nervous expression. Norway leaned on his hand and stared at him. This atmosphere was really starting to creep him out.
"Denmark, is there something you need to tell me?" he said. "Did you break something again?"
Denmark laughed nervously, which sounded like a dog barking. "Hey, Norway...I've...I've lost my teddy bear."
Norway raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think I care?"
Denmark made a small choking noise. "You cut me off! I wasn't done!" he spluttered. "Okay. Um, does your left eye hurt? Because you've been looking right all day!"
Norway had not thought his eyebrows could go any higher, but he'd just been proven wrong there. "Excuse me?"
Denmark continued. "Have we ever taken a class together?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Really? 'Cause I could've sworn we had chemistry." Norway suppressed a - a laugh, not a giggle. "You're being ridiculous."
Denmark finally looked up from the table. "Y-you're so beautiful you made me forget the rest of my pickup lines."
Norway did not, as a rule, smile, and he absolutely did not blush. The room must've just gotten a bit warmer. He sat there, trying not to show any semblance of emotion for a few moments.
"I like you a lot, Norway," said Denmark.
"Can I hit you?" asked Norway.
"You can hit on me anytime," he said, and Norway slapped him. This might have been more effective if he didn't already do so daily, or at least with regularity. But maybe not. This is, after all, Denmark of whom we are speaking.
"Is that a 'yes, you'll go out with me'?" Denmark replied.
"You really are an idiot." Norway decided that the best option was to kiss Denmark. At the very least, it'd shut him up.
This proved to be a very effective strategy, perhaps rather unsurprisingly, for many months to follow.
Sweden awoke with a headache, lying on the floor. Denmark was sitting at his kitchen table, talking quietly to Norway. Norway had been just slightly leaning his head on Denmark's shoulder, but jerked away as soon as he noticed Sweden was awake.
"Hey, sleeping beauty. What's wrong? You drank one beer and started crying. You're so good at holding your liquor, being drunk is no excuse."
Sweden groaned and rolled over on his side, saying nothing.
"It's Finland, isn't it." Norway said. Sweden responded with another groan. Maybe if he ignored them enough, or pretended to be feeling horribly ill and went back to sleep on his hardwood floor, they'd go away and he could wallow in his misery in private.
"Oi, Sweden, don't be a baby. I'm sure nothing that horrible happened. Remember, we're your friends!" Denmark said. His voice was far too cheerful.
"Don't feel w'll." Sweden grumbled.
"You know, he might just be worse at lying than you are," Norway said to Denmark. Denmark muttered something about him always knowing the truth anyway, even if it wasn't good for him.
"Got a br'ken heart."
Denmark snorted. "C'mon, what'd Finny say."
He had called the Dane and his boyfriend to talk, after all. So Sweden told them the whole story of the 7-Eleven incident, awkward conversation and all. When the tale was finished, Denmark and Norway burst out laughing.
"You two are the most oblivious idiots on the planet," Denmark said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Finland. Buying a Valentine's card. In Sweden."
"I don't f'llow."
"Sweden, did it ever occur to you that Finland might be buying you that Valentine's day card? That tax rates are no real reason to come to a crappy convenience store in Sweden? Use your brain, I know you've got one."
"Besides," Norway added, "who else could be Finland's sweetheart? Estonia?"
"It's a possibility!"
"A damn small one," said Denmark. "I bet you a night of drinking that you'll find some cheesy poem in your mailbox in two days. Now, come have another beer."
Sweden smiled a tiny bit. Maybe they were right. Maybe he did have a chance after all.
Two days passed excruciatingly slowly for Sweden. He paced, debated calling Finland, wrote seventeen poems (sixteen of which ended up in the trash can), and ended up watching awful romantic sitcoms for a good portion of the time (some of the acting was totally good, but he didn't really enjoy them or anything like that).
On the day of the fourteenth, Sweden woke up and forced himself to remain in bed at least until there was light outside. Then he got up, spent an unnecessary amount of time picking out an outfit to wear and showering, and making himself breakfast. It was only 8:30, but he thought he'd check his mailbox anyway. It was empty. He shrugged and went back inside to eat.
He checked again at 9:30, then 12. Sweden took to sitting outside, even though it was near freezing. Just when he thought his tolerance for cold might give out, a figure got out of a small car down the street and began walking towards him.
Could it be the mailman? No, he didn't drive a white hybrid. It was probably just someone visiting one of the few others that lived there. Sweden berated himself for getting his hopes up and opened the door.
"Sweden?" came the quiet voice, quickly muffled by its owner throwing a hand over its mouth.
Sweden whirled around. Finland stood there with the mailbox half-opened, looking as red as the little flag on it and a little guilty.
A very awkward silence ensued. Sweden swallowed. This was the time where he was supposed to sweep Finland off his feet and cuddle by the fire he didn't have or something.
"Would - would ya like t'come in?" Sweden said.
"S-sure!" Finland said, his voice unnaturally high.
Sweden invited him in the still-open door and sat him in his living room. "Coffee?" he prompted.
"I don't want to cause you any trouble! It was so nice of you to-,"
"No trouble," Sweden near choked and rushed into the kitchen. He needed to compose himself. This was supposed to be the easy part - Finland probably liked him and he probably liked Finland. He repeated it a few times to convince himself.
Once he could breathe again, Sweden turned on the coffeepot and picked up a piece of paper from the table. Denmark, you'd better actually be right this time.
"Fin?" Sweden said, walking back into the living room and sitting down next to Finland.
"Oh, h-hi!" Finland stuttered. "It's, um, so nice to see you! Beautiful day, you know, for February, at least."
Sweden smiled slightly. "Happy Val'ntine's Day, right?"
"O-oh, right. Happy...happy Valentine's Day!" Finland took a deep breath. "Um, I actually had a card for you…" He turned it over in his hands a few times before handing it to Sweden.
"Oh, th'nks. Had one for ya, too, actually." Sweden handed Finland the poem. Their hands brushed for a fraction of a second.
Sweden opened his red envelope and read:
Dear Sweden,
Happy Valentine's Day! If you're reading this it probably means that I wasn't able to work up the courage to ask you this in person, because, well, you know me! I'm nervous and no good with words. Anyway. So, I guess I should just ask the question: would you like to go out with me? It's okay if you don't, but even if you can be a little scary sometimes, you're still really sweet…
At this point Sweden stopped reading, feeling a little overcome. Finland appeared to be the same way.
"Sweden...this was...this was really sweet." Finland finally said. He smiled a little tearfully. "I...I was worried you didn't feel the same way."
Sweden gazed down at him. "Me too," he said. "I love ya, Fin."
Finland smiled shyly. "You know," he said, "this is the part where you kiss me."
"O-of course," Sweden said, and quickly leaned down to press his lips to Finland's. Finland giggled. "You're really very cute."
"So 're you." Sweden pulled him into a hug and they leaned back into the sofa, Finland leaning his head comfortably into Sweden's chest, until -
"Sweden! We forgot about the coffee!"