WARNING: Although not strictly mature content, there are some man on man sexual references and some language, so rated T to be safe. So if you don't like that, then don't read it. Characters and Hetalia belong to Himaruya.

Berwald was cooking. Again. Tino wasn't sure what he was making – he never was – but it smelt just as good as ever. He absently flicked through the new book his husband had bought him. It was some kind of romance, he wasn't sure, he couldn't really get into it. Is this what all husbands bought their wives? He sincerely hoped not. Hang on, wives? Tino was not a wife. He let Berwald call him that yes, but he wasn't, not really. Was he? Well Berwald certainly took care of him... He was up before Tino to light the stove every morning. He walked Hanatamago, he chopped the wood, fed the animals, kept the garden tidy, kept the house in good condition and mended what needed mending. And after this, still had enough energy to pound into Tino like a sailor on leave when they pulled the curtains at night. He did all the cooking too. If he was going to insist on calling Tino his wife, he should at least let him help cook. And what did Tino do? A bit of sweeping when he felt guilty. That was it! Well, he supposed he played his part upstairs too, but that didn't count. Berwald wouldn't let him lift a finger. Giving up on the book, he stood and wrapped his arms around Berwald's waist. He was busy with the potatoes in the metal sink.

"Can I help?" He mumbled without much hope.

"'S' alright." Berwald turned sharply, late sunlight flashing off his glasses.

Tino flinched. "Are you sure? I don't mind."

"Yeah." Berwald grunted, and easily disentangled Tino's arms from his midriff. "Got t' get carr'ts."

"Oh. I can get them if you like." For the love of God let me help! He tried to convey with the power of thought.

"S'alright." Berwald didn't even turn around.

"Berwald, please?" Tino wasn't sure what he did, but it obviously worked. Berwald started at him for a full ten seconds, before grunting and holding open the door. Tino smiled and shrugged on his coat, practically skipping out the door. His mood soon altered when he saw the garden. The frost seemed to have it in for the vegetable patch. The dark earth was glittering with an icy residue caught in the bumps and hollows. The grass that wasn't vegetable patch was almost white, and icicles dribbled from the shed roof. The stalks and stems above the ground were curling in on themselves, attempting to escape the chill. Apparently the carrots' roots had the same idea. The cheery orange vegetables seemed determined not to leave the ground; clinging hard to the soil and refusing to let go. The frost on the stems melted in Tino's hands, making them slippery and wet. This did not help. He gave a particularly hard tug and his hands slipped right off, causing him to fall backwards in the dirt.

"Bastard carrot." He scratched his cheek, noticing too late the mud caked into his palm and knuckles. He vented his rage on the carrots for the next twenty minutes, with the assistance of some very choice curses he usually reserved for when Hanatamago got into the 'special box' under Tino and Berwald's bed. Eventually they wore him down, and he ended up slumped next to the potato plants, staring at a large worm trying to force its way into the frozen ground. This was how Berwald found him some time later.

"T'no?"

Tino started. Though not as much as usual. Berwald crouched next to his grimy wife.

"Y've been out h're half 'n h'r."

"Oh."

"Thought ya m'ght w'nt s'me help."

Tino rubbed his nose, smearing more mud across his face. "No. I'm okay." Berwald didn't look convinced.

"Why w'nt ya let me help T'no?"

"Why won't you let me?" Tino looked up. Berwald was still staring at him. He usually was. Tino couldn't compete with that stare. He fixed his eyes instead on Berwald's broad chest. He had forgotten to put on his coat. Berwald never forgot his coat.

"It's just..." He tried hard to find the right words. "I'm grateful for what you did for me Berwald, what you still do for me, but sometimes you just do too much. We're united. We're meant to be equal. I don't feel equal. You do everything for me, for us. I want to do things for you." It was awful, repetitive and cliché, he knew it, but he didn't know what else to say. Perhaps some of that romance novel had lodged itself in his head after all. He waited for Berwald to react. But he remained motionless for a long while. Tino had become lost deep in his own thoughts when Berwald spoke up.

"You r'memb'r R'ssia, d'n't ya T'no?

Tino swallowed. "Yes."

"'N'd wh'n we l'ft D'nm'rk?"

"Of course." Tino played with the buttons on Berwald's shirt. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Berwald lifted his wife's chin, so he could see his violet, water-rimmed eyes. Tino jumped. It still caught him off guard sometimes when the Swede got this close.

"D'n't w'nt t' see ya l'ke th't 'gain. W'nt t' t'ke care 'f ya."

Tino sniffed. "I know. But I want to take care of you too. Please let me."

Berwald diverted his eyes to the ground, before easing a carrot loose from the dark soil. Tino snorted. He made it look so easy.

"You h'lp me cook n'w?"

"I'd love to." Tino leant forward and pressed his lips to Berwald's, showing him how grateful he was. When he pulled away, he saw he'd left something behind.

"Oh. There's dirt on your nose."

"N'v'rm'nd."

Tino stood. "So, what would you like me to do with the carrots?"

"Th'r's pl'nty 'f ways t' use c'rr'ts T'no. L't me sh'w ya..."