Stop don't say that it's impossible

'cause I know it's possible

There's one thing Sweden can say about his country's Eurovision entry for 2011, and it's that whether you love it or hate it, it's catchy as hell. Too catchy—perhaps that's why so many people can't stand it. The song replays in the nation's mind again and again while he sits alone in his hotel room, attempting to get a report done before the meeting next morning.

Finally he gives in. A quick youtube search later and the song blasts away from his laptop. It's too quiet in the room anyway. The addictive beat fills the room, and despite himself Sweden finds himself moving in time with the song.

Spread the news I'm gonna take the fight

For the spotlight day and night

(Gods, he loves those pauses between the words, timed so perfectly for effect.)

I can't take this to the number one

Be someone before you're gone

The problem with listening to music, especially something with such a strong beat, while attempting to work, Sweden decides, is that the rhythm of the song interferes with the rhythm of the words he's trying to write. He manages to type out two more sentences before he gives up, settling for just watching the video.

The song comes to an end, and against his better judgment Sweden hits the play button again. The rhythm pulses through him insistently. He's already given up the restraint he'd shown earlier and allowed himself to sway in time with the words. Now that he's stopped working altogether, though, he's seized with the urge to move even more.

Hesitantly, the nation pushes his chair away from his desk. There's no one here to see him—surely there would be no harm in loosening up a bit for once, right? Just in case, he makes sure the door is locked, the curtains securely drawn.

Once that's out of the way, Sweden brings his arm up, imitating Saade and his backup dancers' movements self-consciously. (Why he's feeling so self-aware, he can't say. There's no one watching him, right? Besides, he's much better at dancing than anyone seems to expect of a tall, aloof nation like him. He was once a Viking after all, and fighting is simply a deadlier form of dance.)

He's just gotten really into it, bending and turning and waving his arms, when the song reaches the end. Sweden drops into the final pose, and for a moment there is complete silence.

Then a voice that is distinctly Denmark's comes from the door.

"When you said we were having a surprise party for Sve to celebrate his third place finish, Fin, this was not what I had in mind."

"Hush! …Oh, it's too late, he's heard you already. Believe me, this wasn't what I had in mind either."

Sweden stands absolutely frozen for a moment, then turns around very, very slowly. His eyes are greeted by the sight of the other Nordics (and a few other European nations as well for that matter), all with various amounts of incredulity or amusement written on their faces, standing at his door. There is an access card on the floor by Finland's feet, which the small nation hastens to pick up.

Oh god.

The next morning, when Sweden wakes with a larger hangover than he's had in centuries, he resolves two things. First, to never to listen to a Saade song again. Second, to give Denmark a good pummeling the next time he sees him.

He completely forgets about the world meeting.

Fortunately for him, the nations do nothing of importance. Unfortunately for him, they spend the time watching someone's cell phone footage of him dancing instead.