Author's Note: Here's something a little different from my normal stuff, but there isn't really enough SuDen out there. Enjoy!

Mathias sighed heavily as he got himself another beer and stood by the window. He wasn't even looking at what was outside. He couldn't focus. Couldn't sit still.

He was always like this after seeing the Swede. A few days before, they had held a small meeting with just the Nordic nations. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary: Mathias showed up twenty minutes late but with perfect hair, Tino was completely off topic, and Lukas and Emil were fighting over fish again. Berwald was mostly silent, listening to Tino chatter on about whatever it was he was talking about. Mathias wasn't paying enough attention to him, though. The Dane was just sitting there, being aware of Berwald. He wasn't always staring at him, that would have been obvious and creepy, but, if the taller man so much as shifted, he was aware of it.

A car drove by on the street in front of his house, and he shook his head, trying to ground himself back into reality. Into the present. It hadn't really been working for the past few decades he'd been trying, though.

He turned away from the window and walked back into the living room, turning on the television and flipping over to some random sports channel. He wasn't paying attention to that either. He was already thinking about Berwald again…

The Swede had left him so long ago. Left him along with Tino. Mathias had thought he'd made peace with his absence back then, but, no. He supposed he never really had. He had wanted to go after him, and when he couldn't bring him back, he remembered being utterly inconsolable for what felt like ages. Lukas was there with him for a while, but even he eventually left the Dane as he was; alone and heartbroken.

For a time after that, however, he thought himself freed of this damning adoration for the stoic man. After all, it was clear that Berwald didn't return his love any longer, and that was that. It was time for them both to move on. The Swede finally proposed to the small Finnish nation, and Mathias happily attended their wedding ceremony. Even if some aspects of their union weren't exactly official, they were still wed, and eventually they adopted Peter together.

He wasn't sure exactly when it all seemed to relapse on him, but did he recall a drunken night with Berwald about eight months after he was married. Lukas had fallen asleep on the couch and so they had been squished close together awkwardly on the smaller sofa. They talked and laughed quietly late into the night, but since they were pressed so close together, there was a moment when Berwald and turned his head and looked at him, and Mathias had very nearly moved in to kiss him. He had just barely caught himself, but this small incident had shocked him to his core. The Swede had given him an odd look and moved back a bit, but nothing was ever said about it.

What was there to say, after all?

That he was sorry he couldn't leave well enough alone? That his stupid heart just wouldn't let it all go? That he was so sorry he wished that, just for a moment, he could go back to a time when Berwald still loved him. When he would come to his bed, and his bed alone…

Mathias let his head fall back against the couch with a soft thump and then stared blankly at the ceiling. He was thinking too much about the past. It was making him sick, but it was commonplace anymore, it seemed.

He needed to get out of the house.

This did not go as planned.

Lukas was busy. As was Emil. Realizing that his network of friends was pitifully small, he frowned deeply in annoyance. There were other nations he enjoyed the company of, such as Alfred and, although Ludwig was too uptight for him he liked his brother, Gilbert. Still, when he lifted his phone again, he hesitated.

After a moment he sighed and set the phone face-down on the coffee table in front of him.

Mathias didn't want to see any of them, truthfully.

He wanted to see Berwald.

The Dane had been staunchly avoiding calling the Swede, though. He knew nothing good would come of it, and in his attempt to fight himself, he had gone so far as to delete Berwald's number from his contacts. It wasn't foolproof, he still had the damned thing memorized, but at least he had the chance to catch himself while dialing.

This had gone on for days now, though. His willpower was weakening. Of the two forces that battled viciously inside of him, one was nearing exhaustion, and it wasn't his sense of self-control.

He chewed his lip.

He stood up and wandered into the kitchen. After looking around for a bit, he nibbled on some crackers, and then went back for his beer. After he finished his crackers and took a drink, he went back to biting on his lip as he stared down at his phone.

He could do it…

On the television, one of the players was lining up to take a shot, and he quickly threw his inner battle into the hands of fate. He bet with himself that if the player made the shot, he would call Berwald. If he missed, he wouldn't. He might have to throw his phone out the window, though.

Turning his body fully towards the screen, he held his breath with the crowd as the moment came. In with powerful surge, the player took the shot. There was a terrifying second of suspense that seemed to stretch out into an hour. The crowd was silent, or maybe they were cheering, Mathias couldn't hear them. He could only stare unblinkingly as the camera followed the ball closely as it neared its destination. He wasn't sure if it was the television or just his own mind, but everything fell into slow motion, and just when he thought his lungs were about to burst, the goal was made and the crowd went absolutely wild.

Mathias, too, cried out loudly, though he hadn't really been watching the game, nor cared whose point it was.

Moving quickly, he spun around and snatched up his phone, punching in the numbers on a rush of adrenaline that helped him beat down the last protest from the rational side of his mind.

One ring. His heart was still pounding.

Two rings. He could hear the roar of the crowd dying down.

A third ring and his heart wobbled precariously, threatening to sink down into the depths of despair and disappointment. At least he was becoming accustomed to that by now.

Then, the line connected.

"Hello?" Berwald's deep but quiet voice reached his ears.

His fried nerves seemed to reach a frenzied pitch and he gasped silently, feeling like he was practically paralyzed.

"…Hello?" he asked again, a bit clearer.

"Hiya Ber!" he finally choked out, much too loudly.

He shut his eyes for a moment, able to see the way Berwald's eyebrow would have quirked up in surprise after recovering from the loud response.

"Mat?"

"Yep!"

"What do ya want?" he asked shortly.

That wasn't abnormal; Berwald wasn't much for chit chat unless he was drinking, really.

"Uh," his brain screeched like metal wheels grinding to a halt.

He had prepared nothing to say. Desperately snatching up the first idea he had, he thought about drinking. A bar.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come out with me tonight? Lukas is working, but we can go to that pub by my house,"

Terrified that his voice was about to break and give away the fact he was nearly trembling, he coughed a bit and ran a hand through his hair, trying to take a few discreet breaths.

"…Sure. What time?"

The Dane's head tipped backwards in a mix of relief and panic.

"Um, how does around eight o'clock sound?" he threw out quickly.

Berwald grunted on the other end of the phone. "Sounds fine."

"Great!" he cheered excitedly, his heart pumping hard in his chest at his victory.

It felt so good to talk to him, to hear his voice, even though it hadn't even been that long since he saw him…

The Swede made a noise that might have been a soft breath of amusement. "…See ya then,"

Charmed by the sound, he nodded stupidly as though Berwald could see him. "Right! See ya!"

He held the phone to his ear until he heard the line go dead, and then stared at his couch with wide eyes.

God, he shouldn't have done that. That was so stupid. What was he going to do? Go and tell him and ruin their friendship? No, but the only other option would be to suppress these chaotic feelings the entire time he was beside him. It was going to be a long night.

And yet, he was still buzzing with excitement.

Mathias checked his watch and gasped. It was nearly quarter after seven!

Rushing off to shower and get ready, he was already thinking about what he was going to wear. He swore, this stupid infatuation really was a pain in the ass.

He arrived at the bar late and embarrassed, but looking good. He had spent too much time getting ready and skipped eating dinner, but he was aware that he turned heads when he walked in. Not that he cared about any of them, though. He only had eyes for a tall Swede who had a weird knack for being completely unnoticeable when he wanted to.

After searching around the fairly crowded bar for a few minutes, he heard him call out.

"Mat!"

He turned quickly, maybe too quickly, and spotted Berwald sitting at the bar. The tall man was dressed well, a nice button-up shirt and black slacks, but it made Mathias feel self-conscious about his decision to wear a tie. Regardless, the Swede pushed the stool beside him towards Mathias with his foot, nodding at the counter as he had already bought him a beer.

The Dane took the seat and the beer eagerly, smiling at the man beside him as his pulse sped up dangerously, despite how he tried to force himself to stay calm. "Thanks!"

Berwald just nodded and watched him take a pull of beer without blinking. Mathias gulped hard, trying to take a few steadying breaths before speaking so that his voice wouldn't tremble.

"So," Berwald said as they leaned their elbows on the counter.

Now that was interesting. Normally, if the other person didn't begin a conversation, Berwald could sit in silence for hours on end. He hadn't exactly begun a conversation himself, but it was still something.

After that, the Dane took the lead easily enough. He was a sociable person, by most accounts anyway, and he could talk to anyone about nearly anything if he had to, even quiet Berwald. It was easier for him anyway because he knew what held the man's attention and what did not. They discussed a few boring things like business and a bit of government business just to get him talking, but after another around, they were able to talk about sports and more interesting things.

However, as the night wore on, Mathias suddenly found the room spinning.

"Whoa," he mumbled, pausing midsentence to lean his head in his hands for a moment.

"What is it?" Berwald asked quickly, concerned.

More than anything, he wanted to look at him and smile stupidly, but his stomach grumbled irritably at him, and he remembered that he had skipped dinner.

"Ah, shit," he cursed quietly.

"Mat, are ya okay?" Berwald asked again, leaning in closer and settling his hand on his back steadily.

He should have just told him he hadn't eaten, but instead he grinned like an idiot when his entire body heated up from Berwald's touch, and he ordered another round.

"Of course, I'm fine," he told him proudly, sitting back up.

Berwald squinted at him in an adorably suspicious manner, but when Mathias laughed loudly he just rolled his eyes. Those beautiful sea-green eyes…

Once the room stopped spinning he tilted his head a bit at the man sitting beside him.

"So, what have you been up to, Ber?"

Berwald looked down into his drink, rolling it a little between his palms. "Nothin' much,"

The Dane scoffed a bit louder than he might have normally, but it apparently bothered his Swedish companion enough to get him to speak again.

"Just work. It's been busy," he sighed.

"Have you had time to make anything?" Mathias asked him, aware that Berwald's favorite pastimes usually involved crafting things.

Whereas most normal people could relax on the couch with their feet up and a cold drink in their hand, Berwald couldn't sit for very long with nothing to do before he got a little antsy. Mathias distantly thought that he might have recalled Tino lightly complaining about this to Lukas at some point. It was hard for him to sit and watch a movie all the way through, and nearly impossible for him to just take a lazy day. He had always been like that though, ever since Mathias had known him, and now it was something he found unbearably endearing.

Berwald shrugged a little and took a drink, and then traced his finger around the bottom of the glass. "Been workin' on a new dining table."

"Oh yeah?" he pressed, leaning a bit closer when the bar loudly erupted in excitement over something on the television.

He would have been watching if he hadn't been with Berwald. Mathias enjoyed sports, and enjoyed feeling the atmosphere of a room become charged with excitement over a big game, but now he couldn't take his eyes off the Swede long enough to even figure out what they were all watching. He just couldn't bring himself to care enough.

"Yeah," Berwald said, glancing at the television before he looked back at Mathias and frowned a bit. "Haven't had enough time to work on it though. Should've had it done last week,"

So he really had been busy. Mathias knitted his eyebrows together sympathetically and smiled a bit.

"What's it look like?" he asked curiously; they had a very nice dining table already, but if he could, Berwald would probably replace every item in his house with one he had made himself.

"Well," he took a longer pull of beer and Mathias watched him swallow it. "It's got four legs, and a flat top…"

Mathias stared for a second, and then laughed loudly. Probably too loudly. But it wasn't often that Berwald joked with him before he was completely drunk. The Swede's cheeks were tinted pink with embarrassment but he smiled when Mathias laughed.

He looked so handsome like that, smiling at him with his cheeks flushed lightly. Mathias chuckled and then sighed softly, noticing that his glasses glinted charmingly and his flaxen hair was shining even under the dim bar lights. His shoulders also had loosened up a bit, and he now rested one elbow on the bar with a much more natural look. One long leg reached down to the floor while the other was bent up on the bar stool, keeping him turned towards Mathias so that their eyes met often and he was able to see his smile clearly.

That beautiful smile…

"Shut up," Mathias grinned at him.

"Well, it looks like a table," he defended himself.

Mathias scoffed again, but took a drink and then leaned more of his weight on the bar when his dizziness threatened to return. "I bet it looks nice,"

Berwald didn't say anything back; he just glanced at him and then coughed before looking back into his beer.

Aware that it was very possible for the conversation to die with that, Mathias quickly began trying to find a new topic of discussion, but then Berwald surprised him.

"What have you been up to?" he asked pointedly over the rim of his glass, which made Mathias laugh again.

He shook his head a little. He couldn't say 'oh, I've been thinking about you non-stop because I'm still hopelessly in love with you' so he decided on something a bit less honest.

"It's been pretty busy for me, too," he sighed dramatically and then threw a glance at the empty stood next to him. "And for Luke."

Berwald nodded. "Said ya called him, too?"

"Yeah, but you know how he gets when he's busy," Mathias said, looking down at the counter. "I think he's stressed out."

The Swede appeared to pause and think of something, but he ever voiced his thought.

"Maybe next time." was all he said.

Next time…

As much as Mathias was enjoying being with Berwald again, there was still an intense pain that he felt deep inside his chest. There was so much he felt like he was repressing, and the thought of continuing on like this made his body tired. They were silent while they finished their beers, but then Berwald ordered again for both of them and offered Mathias a soft, hardly noticeable smile. It warmed his chest instantly and he perked back up.

He had honestly expected Berwald to want to go soon, it was getting late after all, but he showed no immediate sign of wishing to leave. He felt himself beaming stupidly as they received their next round, and when Berwald rolled his eyes at him it only fueled his infatuated glee.

He really should have been more careful about how much he was drinking though, and before he could stop himself, he was suddenly way too drunk to drive home. At least, it felt like it hit him suddenly. But perhaps it had been creeping up on him slowly over the hours they talked together. It was almost impossible to tell now.

Once Berwald had wrestled his keys away from him, the tall Swede slung Mathias' arm over his shoulder and began to haul him out of the pub. He tried to apologize, but the alcohol really had hit him hard, and now he could hardly speak at all. He looked up at Berwald as he was practically carried out of the bar and saw that his brow was furrowed deeply in annoyance. When Mathias realized that he was the cause of this severe annoyance, his heart wrenched in his chest.

He didn't mean for Berwald to get mad at him. He hadn't meant to get drunk, either, he just wanted to have a good time with him. He should have eaten something. He was so stupid.

I'm so sorry, he wanted to tell him, but was unable to do so coherently. Please don't hate me.