It was dark and stormy that night. Dark and stormy in that cliched way that authors began their mystery stories and novels when they couldn't think of a better opening. And it was cold,too. Tino Väinämöinen huddled on the couch, watching the window and listening to the pounding rain drum on the roof overhead. Sleepiness poked and prodded at his eyes relentlessly as a constant reminder that it was twelve forty-three in the morning and his husband still wasn't home.

Berwald had said he was going to be getting back late. He just hadn't said when. And so, long after Peter and Hanatamago had fallen asleep, here Tino was. Not so wide-awake and waiting for that time to come. His eyes would droop shut and stay there for a moment until blinking wide awake, only to slowly shut and open again. He'd never been the best at staying awake to see the early hours of the day. It was a miracle he'd managed this far, really. Although truth be told, Hanatamago wasn't helping him much. The little white ball of fluff was curled up on the couch next to the Finn, front paws occasionally twitching as she chased a dream-squirrel through a field.

Another half-hour had passed before Tino would even admit that he should've been in bed long ago. With a sigh, he gathered up the blanket and mug he'd been using while keeping his vigil. He then quietly tip-toed into the kitchen to set the mug in the sink before returning to the living room couch to scoop up Hanatamago and retire to the bedroom. The little dog looked around in a sleepy daze for a moment as she was set gently on the bed before getting up to snuggle against Tino's neck as he slipped exhaustedly under the covers. Within minutes both were asleep, emitting soft snores.

For a while after that the house was draped in silence, save for the rain that pounded on the roof and gutters. Once in a while there would come a flash through the sky and thunder would roll, but none of the inhabitants of the house so much as twitched in their sleep.

Then came a noise that should have come hours ago. Hanatamago's head shot off the pillow, her little ears pricked to catch the sounds coming from the front door. With a leap and a bound she was off of the bed and trotted down the hallway, reaching the front in time to find Berwald closing the door behind him. The Swede paused a moment to let his eyes adjust to the little light there was in the house before bending down to rub Hanatamago's head. And with a few wags of her tail to show she was glad Berwald was finally home, she set off back down the hall and returned to her spot on the bed.

If Berwald was tired, or even the slightest bit fatigued, he certainly didn't show it. His face carried the same even expression it always did, even when he now felt immense relief that he was back where he loved being most. Where he never felt awkward or frightened stares, or mostly never had to worry about idiots like Denmark. And where it was dry. Berwald carefully shed his rain-soaked coat so as to drip water as little as possible and hung it on one of the hooks fastened to the wall by the door. Yes, being dry in weather like this was definitely a plus.

But there was still something that beat the dryness, warmth, and atmosphere combined. Trying his best to be quiet, Berwald trudged down the hallway, peeking for a bit into Peter's room to check on him. Once the Swede was satisfied, he continued on until reaching his and Tino's room. The corner of his mouth twitched in what maybe might have been a smile as he caught sight of the sleeping form of his wife. The Finn snored softly without any sign that Berwald's entrance had disturbed him.

This was the exact kind of sight that he couldn't resist. Completely captivated by Tino's overall adorableness, Berwald leaned over and gently kissed him on the forehead.

"'M home." he murmured softly, trying to find a way to crawl into bed.

But he quickly found a dilemma with this action. In his sleep Tino had rolled over just enough to be in the middle of the bed without a spot big enough to fit the Swede.

Gently nudging or pushing came to mind, but there was no way he could bring himself to do it. It was like trying to get yourself to move your cat that had fallen asleep right smack dab in the middle of your chair. Very much physically and emotionally impossible. Which meant Berwald was left with really only one option.

Turning back into the hallway, he found himself a few blankets and a pillow and shuffled out to the living room, where the couch awaited him for the night. Lucky for him Tino hadn't minded getting one of the bigger ones they'd seen. With his commodities in place, Berwald was finally able to get what sleep he could. With a contented sigh he let his drowsiness wash over him, slipping into a light doze.

That is, until he felt something shift beside him.

Blinking awake, he looked down to find Tino creeping under the blankets, moving to bury his face in Berwald's chest.

"W'rn't y'asleep?"

"A little."

"I d'dn't wake y'up, did I?"

The Finn smiled. "No. But I'm glad you're home."

"M'too."

A beat of silence passed before Berwald spoke again.

"Sh'ldn't y'be in bed? S'w'rmer."

"Yeah. But I like it better out here."

With the tiniest of smiles, Berwald wrapped an arm around his wife as they both fell back to sleep.