Hello there! So, first part of the wedding! I will split this up in more chapters – sorry for doing that…
Thanks to DancingOnRainbow for beta-reading! :D
Edit (1/1-2013) : Changed "Estland" to Estonia. It's the same country but "Estland" is in my language, Danish. I fail.
It was early morning in Finland's house when he woke up, eyes snapping wide open as his heart instantly began to race. What was the time, had he slept in? Was he late? Hadn't he heard his alarm?
His hand flew to the side, grabbed the phone and he blinked a few times, looking at the screen after having tapped it gently. Then he frowned. That was weird. It was only seven-thirty. He shouldn't even be up by now. Finland sighed deeply and put the phone back on the small bed-side table. Oh well, guess it's better to be up too early than too late, right?
His heart, though, didn't still its rapid pace. It was today. Today was the day Berwald and he would finally take each other's hands in marriage. Today was the day Sweden and Finland officially and thoroughly merged, completing the alliance that had been under way for a long time by now.
The Finn's mind began to race as well, brain flooding with pictures of both himself in his attire and Sweden in his... He was very sure he flushed a little when he imagined what his future husband would look like. What kind of clothes he would be wearing, not to mention the colours. It would be an understatement to say that Finland was excited.
And so, not able to go back to sleep to get the last hour of rest, he jumped out of bed and put on some rather old clothes that hung over the back of the chair by his desk. Estonia was probably not even awake yet. Or maybe he exactly was? Downing pitch-black coffee like it was water while he was tapping away on his computer. Both were very possible opportunities but Finland was too polite to call someone at this unholy time. Instead he went into his kitchen on shaking legs, feet dashing over the wooden floor and making small noises when his feet connected with the cold material.
The house was empty save for him and Hanatamago. Everybody knew that it brought misfortune to see your future wife or husband before the ceremony itself so Sweden was at his own house while Finland was in his. They had let England take care of Sealand until they went to the church.
Once inside the kitchen, Finland found Hanatamago in her basket, curled up on herself like a small ball. She was snoring ever so softly and Finland didn't have the heart to wake her just to greet her. He therefore let her sleep and quietly found something that would make a decent breakfast but wouldn't fill his stomach too much. He would need to keep an eye on the amount of food he ate. Hungary had told him that corsets were hard and painful to wear if your belly was full enough to swell. Not that Finland really had to look out for that; he was still thinner than usually despite Sweden's stubborn attempts of changing that.
Settling with a cup of coffee - with a small amount of Finnish vodka in it - and a bun of rye, he sat in his couch, turning on the television while he nervously crossed and uncrossed his legs, shifting position ever so often. His heart had settled a small bit but Finland kept sending glances at both his wristwatch and the clock on the wall. Half an hour till he should have gotten up.
He turned on his computer, eyes occasionally flickering to the television screen to follow the show. The Moomins. He knew all the episodes by heart and knew every line and knew exactly who did what and when but he never got tired of it. It was one of his favourite shows.
Checking his e-mail, Finland found a mail from his dear Estonian friend. Just ten minutes ago. Finland's heart seemed to skip a beat before getting stuck in his throat. He didn't even bother to think of a reply as he read the mail and stretched backwards awkwardly to pick up the phone, dialling Estonia's number.
"Hi, Eesti! You're awake already?" he asked, taking a swig of his coffee. His eyes now settled on the television, fingers grabbing the remote to mute the device so he could focus better on his friend.
"Yup! Went to bed early in the hope I wouldn't be tired when waking up! It worked, I'm not tired at all!"
Finland noted that. In fact, Estonia seemed a bit tooenergetic and fresh.
"How many cups of coffee have you had yet?" he therefore continued, putting down his own porcelain cup.
There was a small silence from the other and Finland rolled his eyes, yet couldn't help a smile spread over his face.
"More or less than ten?"
Estonia's answer started in a mumble so hushed that the Finn couldn't really make out what he was saying but it soon turned so loud that there was no problem understanding the words at all.
"... but I swear, I didn't mean to! It's just, there's this new virus floating around and I'm trying to capture and neutralize it! It just proofs to be a little harder than first anticipated. It's a really complicated one and has infected not only servers and people's personal computers but even the official system in several countries have been affected! It's like a combination of several viruses in one and though I think I have one part under control, the others are-"
"Eesti!" Finland interrupted, not able to hold back a small giggle though he tried to cover it with a hand, "Eesti, just shut up, okay? I don't blame you, it's okay! I just wanted to hear if you could get over here now, since you're already up?"
The sound of several buttons being pressed at an impossible pace reached his ears, then the sound of a laptop being slammed shut. The smile grew wider, his heart beat becoming a bit faster. He shot a glance at the clock. Great. Now was the time he should have woken up.
"Of course! I'll be right over!" With those words, the call ended and Finland leaned back against the couch with a deep sigh. It was soon. It was actually really soon now. A few hours and he would say 'I do' to Berwald Oxenstierna... And Berwald Oxenstierna would say 'I do' to him. It was so magical. He was anxious, yet incredibly happy.
Unable to sit down and just wait for his friend, he began to clean the already perfectly clean house, pushing around objects and redecorating the living room and kitchen. A low sound informed him that he had accidentally woken up Hanatamago and he looked down at her from the counter he was kneeling on.
"Ah, sorry, Hana!" he said. She yawned and whined lowly, and though that kind of sound was usually associated with pain, this wasn't the case right now. She was just tired and wanted to sleep even if she could feel her owner being more nervous than usually. She was but a dog and though intelligent, her mind wasn't able to connect the dots that had been painted lately.
Finland finished up redecorating the kitchen for the fifth time in three days before he finally heard knocking on his door. His heart seemed to skip yet another beat as he dashed to the door and tore it open, nearly forcing it off its hinges.
Estonia stood outside, clad in casual clothes and a bright smile. He wore new glasses and though Finland wasn't too happy about the design, they made Estonia seem kinder and somehow warmer than before. It wasn't that the man was unkind or rude - except for if you insulted his language, culture or technological devices; then you could prepare for a scolding you had never had before - but he easily came off as reserved and impolite at times. These glasses completely changed that, though.
He carried a suitcase in both hands and a jacket was casually hung over his left shoulder.
"Hello, Finny," he greeted and went to hug the Finn and though it proved troublesome with the stuff in his hands, he somehow managed to do it. Finland hugged back tightly, his arms trembling the slightest bit. He was so nervous but very happy.
"Shouldn't we get inside?" the other asked after a long minute of hugging, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with both the closeness and the cold outside. It was still early in the morning, after all, and Finland was a terribly cold country in the winter and early spring.
"Oh! Right, sorry, come on in!" Finland agreed and made room for the other to get inside.
"Get the hell out of my house."
Denmark refused to listen, just grinned widely as he nearly kicked down the door and strutted inside like he owned the entire place. He had at one time, though, and this was probably the reason he had that attitude. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was a major pain in the ass and believed he owned everything he could come close to and was convenient for him.
He surely didn't care about the usual death glare he got from the Swede. The gaze clearly said he was going to die if he didn't get out soon but Denmark completely ignored it in favour of investigating the garment cover for the clothes his arch-enemy was going to wear in a moment.
Behind them, Norway and Iceland also entered the house, though they didn't say anything.
"Den, I told you to piss off," Sweden repeated and slammed the door shut after them. He was not amused at all. He hadn't even gotten his coffee to start the morning with, how the hell did that stupid idiot even dare to think about getting over here this early? It was barely past seven and Sweden was nota person you wanted to wake up. Denmark, of all people, should know that by now. Apparently, he didn't care, and it was only due to his incredible self-control that he had managed to build up during his time with Finland that Sweden didn't kick the Dane out quite violently.
Denmark was wearing his usual clothes. The coat was open and revealed a red shirt with a black vest and black tie. The trousers were red, as well, but the hat, gloves and boots were black as the night. Iceland was wearing his brown jacket, white shirt, brown trousers and white boots. Norway wore a faded green sweater and blue trousers.
"But you surely need help for your big day!" Denmark chirped and surprisingly carefully opened the bag in which a tuxedo was hiding. The Swede was beside him in two long steps, firmly closing the sleeve to hide the clothes.
"I don' need help, especially not yours," he growled, feeling his temper reach alarming heights. Stupid, idiotic Denmark. He could have waited just half an hour and then there would be no problem. Except for the fact that Denmark was in his house which was bad enough.
Norway and Iceland had placed themselves ona big couch, watching the two arch-enemies in silence.
The Dane sent him a fake pout that he couldn't maintain for long, instead letting his face split in a wide smile and he friendly punched Sweden's shoulder. A gesture that earned him a solid and not very friendly punch to the jaw.
"Not in the mood for that right now."
"Really?" the hurt man mumbled and rubbed the sore spot as he picked himself up from the floor, "I had no idea."
"Take this as a warnin', then," Sweden flatly stated and tried to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking very lightly. It wouldn't be noticed by the untrained eye, neither would it be noticeable for a person that didn't know Sweden. But since Denmark had known him pretty much his entire life, he had learned to pick up these signals and he had learned how to recognize them. And especially how to use them for his advantage, if such an opportunity showed up.
Today, though, it seemed like he hadn't any ideas of using anything to his advantage. It could be a trick but something in his eyes said that he was completely serious about this.
"Hey, don't whine like that," he said, energy instantly back and grin back in place on his face when he noticed the Swede's hands shiver and the slight anxiety that was in the big man's voice. "You can whine for your little Finn when the time comes but for now, we've gotta make you handsome! Don't worry, the awesome me will make that happen in a jiffy, even if you look like a mess!"
"If you would've let me get my coffee, it would've been differen'."
"Beauty doesn't come like that! It took me years to develop this hot face and godly body, y'know?"
"Years haven' been kind to ya, then," Sweden grumbled and felt the anger dwindle in favour of just simple annoyance. He went to the kitchen, ignoring Denmark's sounds and words when he didn't find them important which was - let's be fair - about 85 % of the time. He heard few words escape the two other nations' lips, making Denmark chuckle lightly.
As he poured fresh and hot coffee into a mug with the Swedish flag, Denmark swung an arm around his shoulder, stretching a bit to reach the man that was slightly taller than him. Denmark had always hated this and Sweden had found it incredibly amusing. The man didn't say anything, simply stared up at him and Sweden glared back with a gaze that would have made everyone else cower away. Even - or especially? - poor Finland.
The sudden thought of him and what he would look like later and what would happen in a few hours made Sweden's heart do a back-flip before beginning to race like chased by the Devil himself. Tino would soon officially be his wife. Finland would soon officially merge with Sweden and thereby finally confirm the alliance they had been planning for so long.
The Swede was pulled out of his thoughts when Denmark ruffled his hair and gave it a wild and messy look before stepping away a bit and sent him a smile that wasn't without genuine warmth.
"Y'know, even though I hate you and all that shit, I still want Finny to be happy. So why don't you get changed and let the awesome that is me help you out in the process? Obviously you have no idea about how to make a handsome appearance!"
Like Sweden had ever cared about his appearance. As long as he was wearing clothes that covered him up it was fine. He had never really cared about how he looked, as long as he was about decent and as long as he didn't scare Finland too much.
He remembered one time from the Viking age where he had returned to their house after a particularly violent and bloody trip to the Western part of Russia. Lots of humans had been slaughtered and it wasn't only their blood that was on his clothes. Sweden's blood had trickled down his face from a long wound that went from just about his right temple and to the beginning of his neck. Sending a single and blank look at Finland who had been sharpening some of their swords was enough to make the poor man cry in terror and flee back into their sleeping chamber where he remained hidden until Norway somehow managed to convince him to get out and eat with them.
Sweden didn't really want a repetition of that and despite this, it had happened several times after. When they returned from England, having left Denmark at the throne, they had been equally soaked in blood and bestiality had still been flashing in Sweden and Norway's eyes, giving Finland very good reason to hide once more. And this time, no one tried to get him out. Neither Sweden nor Norway attempted to coax him out his hide. They simply sat by the fire, clenching their mighty and deadly weapons as they stared into the dance of red and yellow and orange colours before them, feel the adrenaline slowly begin to fade after many hours.
And when they were once more normal, when the blood rush was gone and the hard and gruesome shine from their eyes had disappeared, Norway had went straight to bed while the Swede had tried to find little Finland. When he didn't find him in the sleeping chamber or in the small side room to their animals, Sweden had felt a jab of anxiety and curiosity in his chest. Telling this to Norway - who was fast asleep, therefore not responding - he left the house and started his search for his dear Finn.
After having walked through the entire village for a few hours, and having searched every house and every haystack he came across, he went outside of the town, calling for Finland and asking him to show up. Just show up so Sweden could be sure that he was alright and that he was still here. Just something.
It hadn't been successful until the moon was high on the sky and the clouds were making space for the pale rays to touch the ground ever so softly. At that time, when wolves started to wake and their howls filled the air and you would be an idiot to seek out into the darkness, and when shadows seemed to become real, stretching and shrinking, moving and standing still, Sweden had seen a familiar man by a giant tree that seemed to reach into the sky.
"Tino?" His voice was rough and cold as always and even in the darkness that surrounded them, it seemed that his face was as dead and emotionless as ever. It was as if you could still see the blank stare that was in his eyes.
The man didn't react. He simply sat there, leaning against the trunk of the tree, and seemed to be either unconscious, fast asleep or… dead. The fact that there could be three possibilities had made Sweden's heart ache and then freeze as he stepped forward enough to let a hand find the small shoulder. It had been very cold, Sweden remembered, as he put the mug down and followed Denmark into the living room again.
The shoulder had been too cold for his liking and the man hadn't reacted to his touch. His breathing was even, though shallow, but he didn't look peaceful. His brows were furrowed lightly and his lips would occasionally twitch as Sweden watched him. Well, that had at least excluded the 'dead' option.
"Tino." There was still no reaction from the smaller man and Sweden felt his chest tighten even more. Kneeling beside the Finn, he grabbed the other shoulder and gently shook the man. Sweden knew that Finland was afraid of him and Sweden knew that even if he would love to carry the man home, said man would never allow it. Not even if it was necessary.
A small mumble escaped the cold and starting to become blue lips and Finland turned his head. But it was clear that it was an unconscious movement. Finland wasn't awake, he was still sleeping.
'Please,' Sweden thought to himself as he carefully picked up the Finn and cradled him in his arms, 'let it just be sleep.'.
It had been, luckily. Sweden couldn't remember ever having prayed to so many Gods at the same time and as many times as he did that night, waiting for Finland to wake up. Having put the man down on his bed - rather, a rectangular space covered with hay and blankets - he just sat beside him and stared. He could remember Norway wake up at one time and call out to him. Answering him, the Norwegian had gone to Sweden's sleeping place. There had been nothing of an expression on his face that could tell what the man was feeling about what he saw. If he even felt anything.
"Foun' 'im by a tre'. Was afraid h' might hav' be'n hurt," Sweden mumbled and carefully brushed a lock of blond hair behind the small ears. Norway didn't say or do anything, simply stared for a moment longer and then disappeared again.
Finland showed to be okay when he woke up. Sweden hadn't thought about changing his clothes after he got back from the slaughter the day before and the thought hadn't even occurred to him as he sat by Finland and watched him. So when the beautiful violet eyes opened and focused on the first thing recognizable - a scary face belonging to a giant man - it could be no surprise that the man cried out in fear once more.
Sweden's face had been blank as always but on the inside, he was happier than he could remember having been for a long time. Finland was okay. 'Definitely okay,' the Swede added when the other began to rummage around, apologizing for his absence the day before, informing that he would start doing the chores instantly.
He had been stopped, though, by Norway and his equally empty face.
"No. I'll do them today. You just rest." Intimidated by two men who showed absolutely nothing in their faces or eyes, Finland had been too scared to protest. He had instead found a place by the fire, curled up in a blanket Sweden had thrown around him.
A few days later, when Sweden had finished his bath and dried himself, he found Finland in his sleeping chamber, halfway asleep. The Swede sat down beside him and felt the man start a bit, moving to the side in an unconscious attempt to get away from whoever was beside him.
"Tino," the Swede had mumbled, looking at the smaller man without touching in any way, "why did ya run 'way?"
It came as a big surprise to him when Finland actually answered, even if the words were blurry and he seemed too far off to really know he was talking.
"Was afraid. You were soaked in blood and looked wrong."
'Just got home from a raid. What do you expect?' Sweden had thought to himself but hadn't said a word.
"You were even scarier than usually. Sorry I ran away," the Finn mumbled and turned around again, facing Sweden though still only partly conscious.
"'S okay. Just worried," Sweden said and gave the soft skin of Finland's face a gentle stroke before he got up and left.
Completely swallowed up in memories, Sweden didn't really notice how Denmark 'helped' him undress - more like, did it for him - and he only vaguely registered Denmark's annoyed face when the Swede's body was revealed. Sweden was bigger and stronger than the Dane and it was very clear when the clothes were removed.
"You look like you're smirking. Stop that," he grumbled and slapped Sweden's head, causing the bigger to instinctively hit back and thereby knock over the Dane. As he lay sprawled on the floor and tried to get up - his coat was in the way, very much to Sweden's amusement - the Swede felt it as well. His lips were curling uncharacteristically upwards, nearly making him smirk.
"S' much for a godly body, hm?"
Denmark flung a ball of paper from his pocket at his face.
"Are you sure it's okay, Finland?"
"Of course! You're helping me, so of course it's fine."
Lithuania nodded lightly before turning around to look at the Finn. Finland was naked, save for his underwear, and stood in front of a mirror. He was blushing ever so lightly. To be honest, he wasn't that happy about looking at his own body. Not only because he was so thin but also because it in general was small. It was a long-time wish of his to become big and strong and he didn't like that his body seemed to care shit about that.
"You're a total dork for asking things like that, Liet," another voice sounded by the couch. Poland was sitting on the back of the furniture and was chewing bubble gum while he looked over at the men by the mirror. Estonia was busy trying to get the corset right, not knowing what was heads or tail on it before the Pole rolled his eyes and went to help the poor man. Latvia, small and nervous as he was, stood beside the Lithuanian and observed what happened.
"Eeh, how can you, like, not know this?" he said as he gave the corset back when the laces had been applied correctly and it went the right way.
Lithuania couldn't blame Estonia, though. It wasn't a corset like the ones women wore so there was no build-in bra to show how it should be put on. Furthermore, Estonia had - as far as Lithuania knew - never had a date or just researched this kind of lingerie. And even though Estonia was very clever, there are just some things you don't know automatically.
"How do you know?" the bespectacled man asked and made Finland raise his arms a bit so he could put the corset on. The Finn was shaking very lightly, nervousness starting to tear at his insides. Maybe he was a little afraid about this corset-thing. He had never tried anything like this and since Hungary had told how painful it couldbe, he was anxious. He had also heard horrible stories about people who had died because they had worn corsets. That had, of course, been over many, many years of use on a daily basis, meaning that Finland had absolutely no reason to fear that this would ever happen to him.
"Hungary," Poland answered and blew a bubble of gum that quickly popped with a loud sound, making Finland shriek lightly but remain in place. "She asked me to, like, help her once with a corset. She was totally rad in that thing, actually."
Estonia nodded, seemingly not caring at all. In fact, he wasn't really fond of Poland. That man always craved Lithuania for himself when the brunette was actually supposed to do important stuff at his own or Russia's house.
A long silence followed where Estonia - successfully - put the corset on the Finn while they talked in their respective languages. They seemed to understand each other perfectly fine, even if one spoke Finnish and the other spoke Estonian. There could be no doubt about the topic; the marriage that would soon take place. Finland spoke with a voice brimming over with nervousness, happiness and excitement and he was blabbering away, his mouth never seeming to close to let the other speak. He also spoke much faster than he did when speaking English as he didn't need to think about what word to use and how the context would sound if he used one word instead of another and such.
The corset wasn't as bad as Finland had anticipated. It felt maybe a bit too tight around his waist but he guessed that was how it was supposed to be. Looking into the mirror, he blushed even more. He had a figure. An actual figure. And it looked like a women's, just a little, with the way his waist had become slimmer.
For a moment, Finland wondered why Sweden apparently liked to call him 'wife' when he was clearly homosexual. Was it kind of like a turn-on? Or to show who Finland belonged to? Furthermore, Finland found it strange if Sweden would like to see him in female clothing. Wouldn't that make him look like a woman...?
He didn't get too long time to think about it, though, before his shoulder was tapped gently and he turned to face Estonia. The man had a confused and not entirely amused expression on his face and Finland could understand why. It was no secret that Estonia was straight and that he found men wearing women's clothing plain wrong and that he thought Finland was humiliating himself and his manliness by doing this. Yet, he didn't say anything about it, but simply helped, as any good friend would.
The Estonian was holding a white garter belt with matching white stockings. There was nothing extraordinary about them, just plain white, though a very vague grey line decorated the fabric in lazy curls and scrolls. But you would have to get very close to notice.
That thought was followed by a more intimate one - Sweden would get close enough to notice - and Finland blushed deeply.
"Pervert," Estonia commented, yet with a smile lingering on his face. "Besides, I won't have anything to do with those. Sorry, pal."
"I'm not a pervert! And don't worry about that, I know how you feel about this kind of thing," Finland said reassuringly as he turned to Poland.
One would maybe wonder why Poland of all people was here. He had no relations to Finland at all so it would be strange for him to just show up like that. But when you gave it deeper thought, it made sense. Finland was great friends with Estonia and Estonia lived in the same house as Latvia and Lithuania and Lithuania was friends with Poland. Thinking about it like that, it made sense why the Pole was here and now seemed to take the task of dressing Finland correctly in his own hands. Quite literally.
"Stand still," he commanded as he took the garter belt from Estonia and went around the Finn to put it on correctly. Finland did as told though he couldn't suppress small shivers. Poland was very close to his private area and though this situation wasn't arousing in the slightest, he couldn't help but think about later. When it would all have to come off.
"Someone's getting excited, huh?" Poland commented with a smug expression as he lifted one of Finland's feet to put on the stockings. Finland, whose face had gotten a normal colour when the last blush had worn off, instantly blushed even deeper and he buried his face in his hands. He knew what the Pole was talking about, had felt his manhood give a single, lazy twitch when the thought of tonight's activities got into his mind.
He didn't even try to explain, just looked at his palms and registered how Poland walked around him and touched his thighs and legs to put on the fabrics, light and feathery fingers occasionally brushing over the milky white skin of Finland's body and made him force to suppress a small shiver.
When the garter belt was securely fastened on the Finn and the stockings were connected with it, Poland moved back to admire his work, a hand propped under his chin which made him look a bit too much like France. He was making small, humming noises and studied Finland with such an intense look that it made him blush deeply and look away. His eyes found the mirror and he couldn't help but stare at the sight.
It wasn't that he had had any expectations about how he would look like wearing these. They wouldn't be seen anyway - only by Sweden, and only later on - so why should he care? But as his gaze seemed to lock with his reflection in the mirror, his mouth fell open, just a tiny bit.
The garter belt was as white as the newest and freshest snow you would ever see and it had a frilly selvage that created a tiny, tiny mini-skirt. On the front of this 'mini-skirt' was a small but cute ribbon, decorated with a single and shining diamond (Poland commented it was clearly a fake). The fabric was incredibly soft and seemed to hug every bit and piece of skin it had contact with so very tightly, yet very tenderly, the feeling of it enough to make warmth spread in the Finn's body. The underlying fabric - the garter belt itself - was laced and had a slightly deeper nuance of white, making it stand out just vaguely from under the mini-skirt.
Both mini-skirt and garter belt seemed to do something about Finland's hips. Somehow, it made them look a little tad bigger, gave them a figure, like there was more meat on them than there actually was. He liked that. Somehow. When he tryingly moved them to see how it looked his face got painted a deep crimson. Not because of the fact that he apparently could sway his hips enough to make even Poland look impressed. But because the fabrics made the moves seem more refined, more interesting. One would maybe even call it seductive, the way his hips slowly, daintily snapped to the sides, first left, then right, right again, tryingly a bit sharper to the left.
Finland was so caught up in this that he was first brought back to reality when he heard a loud coughing noise and the words "I will be in the kitchen to make some coffee," whereupon he saw Estonia leave the room, accompanied by Lithuania and Latvia. All men had red ears and a light pink spread over their necks. Knowing that he had been the reason for this, Finland couldn't help a small giggle but he had dignity enough to stop his swaying, instead settling with looking at the stockings he hadn't been paying much attention to.
To match the rest of the outfit so far, they were also white as pure snow and were decorated with small bows on the rim. They were hugging his legs tightly yet gently, giving them a slightly more endearing curve than normally and made them seem longer as well.
The Finn swallowed heavily, feeling his heart try to jump out through his mouth. He rarely admitted that he looked good. But now... he nearly felt it. It almost felt as if he liked this look.
And he wasn't even wearing the dress yet.
The tuxedo felt weird. It was too tight and it was hard to breathe right. Or maybe it was just the deafening sound and the excessive pace of his heart that made it so?
Either way, it didn't help when a bow tiewas added to it, making him growl lightly when it was tied around his neck and the band was hid beneath the collar of his shirt.
Sweden was stiff as a board when he stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself. He was pretty sure he had never been wearing clothes this formal before. Even his attire at the burial had been more relaxed, even if only a little. And people willingly wore this kind of clothes every day for their job?
Sweden would never learn to understand that. He would by far prefer his clothes to be relaxed and casual when he was working than looking like a penguin. But then again, he wasn't exactly a businessman and when working with metres of wood, boards, buckets of paint and different kinds of machinery, it was probably the cleverest to wearsomething he could easily move around in. No suits and ties for him, please.
"Yo, big beast, you got your vows?" Denmark asked him and snapped his fingers in front of the Swede's face, instantly earning him attention.
"'Course I do," he mumbled and sent a nervous look at the door to a closed room beside the television. That room was his primary office and he had all of his important documents in there, meaning that also the cards with his vows were in there. "Wou'd never forget such a thin', idiot."
"That's my man!" Denmark cheered and stepped in front of the slightly bigger man with a concentrated expression on his face, though there was somehow still room for the trademark grin he was always wearing, fingers expertly fumbling a bit with the shining black bow tie. "How is it?"
"Tight. 'N' warm."
"Awesome, then everything is as it should be!"
"Ya're supposed t' fe'l ya're bein' choked?"
"Pretty much, yeah. But hey, then it's much better when you finally get it off, eh? Heh heh heh," Denmark stated jokingly and was instantly shot a glance that could make even the bravest and cleverest man flee with the screams of a little girl. Of course, Denmark didn't do that. He just continued to fumble with the clothes, smoothening the lapels and the sleeves, fingers quickly dancing over the buttons and the cuffs to make sure they were sitting perfectly.
You would easily get the impression thathe was the nervous one. While Sweden's face only showed a bit of the huge amount of nervousness he felt, Denmark showed it all. His brows were constantly furrowed and he had been unnaturally flummoxed and clumsy when helping Sweden get dressed. A look of concentration had been covering his face since he got the tuxedo out of the garment bag and stripped the Swede of his normal clothing.
But when the Dane finally backed away to let the other look at himself in the mirror, the Swede could feel his heart stop its excessive beating, stilling for a long moment that seemed to last an eternity as he took in the picture presented to him.
It was him. There could be no doubt in this. The cold and hard stare that only seemed a slightly bit softer, his royal-blue eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses that seemed to accompany his face in a completely new way. But they weren't new, those glasses. He had had them since forever, they had just been put away in a drawer in some room. Denmark had found them for him when he made a quick but professional raid of his home.
The hair was blond and slightly damp after he had been forced to take a shower, an indefatigable Denmark walking behind him like a wolf after a dying prey. Sweden had denied obeying the man until Denmark threatened with tying him up and cleaning Sweden himself. This had worked like a charm and the water was running about a minute later. Now, fortunately, the water that was still in his hair seemed to have understood that he was not interested in wet trails down his neck at the moment and therefore didn't trail down as it normally would.
But then there was the outfit... As said earlier, a tuxedo, it was double-breasted and it was black. Pitch-black. It sat tightly around his giant and muscular body, so tightly you could see the exact figure. And yet, it wasn't so tight it didn't fit him. It had just the right size. The lapels were wide and seemed somewhat alluring with the way the white shirt underneath was visible. The shirt had black buttons, managing to create an interesting contrast.
On the tuxedo's left side was a small breast pocket in which a piece of cloth hid, barely visible over the edge of the pocket. This little cloth had two tasks today: one was to function as anelegant decoration for the rest of the outfit. The other was to function as something to clean his glasses with if –most likely when- they got dirty.
Beside the tuxedo, he was wearing a matching pair of pitch-black trousers that were fastened around his waist with a dark brown belt with a silver buckle. Ona small table behind him, there were two pair of gloves. One was as black as the tuxedo while the other was as white as snow. Sweden was in doubt aboutwhich pair would look the best and he had not thought Denmark's "Take one of each!" a good advice.
His feet were clad in new and black, polished shoes that had the smallest hint of a heel, just to make him a few centimetres taller. Which was, of course, very much needed. (Read the sarcasm)
"Imagine Finny's face if you wore your Swedish gloves, though," the Dane commented and turned around to walk into Sweden's office, probably to find the vows. He didn't get that far, as Sweden suddenly had a hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping tightly around it to prevent him from moving even an inch further away.
Norway and Iceland followed the scenario with indifferent gazes.
"Don' even think 'bout it," he growled and somehow managed to turn the other around with only one hand. The other was lingering just above the gloves. Denmark grinned up at him, the smile as wide and mischievous as it always has.
"Come on, I'm your best man, right?"
"Ja. 'N' that's exactly why ya can't see 'em. Ya will hear 'em in the church." In the church. It sounded so... so unbelievable. It was actually going to happen. And in just a few hours, too. It was magical and Sweden could feel his heart beat approvingly of his thoughts, making his chest tighten for a long second. So soon.
And he was ready. He had his clothes, he had been forced to live through Denmark's sprays of cologne and insisting words of "Let me fix your hair" or "You look damn pale!" followed by a brush with rouge. Where Denmark had it from, Sweden didn't know and he didn't care, either, simply slapped it away with a warning growl.
The Swede glanced at the clock. Then felt his heart start to beat faster. They could as well just be going now. They would be arriving a little early but rather too early than too late. Very much so. And there would probably be some late morning-traffic.
Sweden looked down at the gloves for another two seconds before he decided not to wear any, went into his office and took the cards, then showed up in the living room once more, eyes focusing on the others as his heart seemed to block his air passages.
"Com' on," he mumbled and flung a jacket over his shoulder. Denmark made an approving noise and instantly followed after the Swede while Norway and Iceland followed with more calm steps.
At this point in time, Denmark was kind of glad Sweden didn't look at him. His eyes were shining with something very much bordering to happiness and though he hated to admit it, he was for once happy on Sweden's behalf. That Finland had finally grown some balls and found together with the giant, silent man walking in front of him. When the rare opportunities of driving together happened, Denmark would always insist on being the driver. His reason was quite idiotic, as was everything about him.
"You're so gay you can't even drive straight."
And it always earned him a hard slap over the head.
They might be archenemies, Sweden and Denmark, but there were still times when they would care about each other. They would just never let others know about it.
The dress was on. And Finland had a hard time fathoming that it was him who looked back from the depths of the mirror. That it was his glistening, violet orbs staring back at him, his shaking arms that gripped his own sides, both in and outside the mirror, grabbing the soft fabric of the dress.
Fingers tangled themselves in feathery cotton frills that curled and bent elegantly over each other, hiding yet not hiding black and silver swirls made of the softest satin your dreams could make up. From his waist and down, the dress got wider and small but long slits and partings in the fabric gave you a view to beautiful curls in pitch-black and dark silver. The curls would somewhere tangle with each other, creating playful patterns and interesting figures a child could use hours staring at, trying to decide where which colour should be applied, had the dress been a piece of paper.
The slits were widest at the end, got more and more narrow as you moved your gaze upwards, and effectively covered up the curls and swirls until they completely disappeared by the waist. From there on and up, the dress was a gorgeous piece of clothes that seemed to be covered in tiny, tiny pieces of glitter and shining material. It wasn't real or fake diamonds, neither was it sequin, it was just something that gave the white fabric a touch of incredible elegance. The dress ended just a bit over the place a woman's breasts would have been. The rim was decorated with a thin, so very thin brim of blue silk that created a great contrast to all the white and black.
Finland was stunned as he let his trembling fingers run through the frills, fingertips gently brushing the beginning of the slits, trying to feel if the swirls and curls were just prints but no; they were real, sewn into the fabric so as to make them permanent.
He felt again and again, let his hands wander over his stomach, not even close to be able to feel his skin that he was sure radiated enough heat to make his saunas comfortable. It was soft, so very soft, the dress. And the corset, too. If he concentrated and rubbed a bit harder, he could feel the strings in the corset, the long and thin but incredibly strong wires that held the corset up and both gave Finland posture and tied in his stomach, giving him a hint of female curves. As fingers slowly, shakingly, ran over the small and lightly shining objects that weren't quite sequins or diamonds, he could feel his face heat up violently.
"It's a total shame you haven't got longer hair, though," Poland commented from somewhere that seemed far away from Finland who just kept staring at himself, still not able to fathom it was him he could see in the mirror. It was so unreal... He had picked the dress himself and had been given advice by France and Poland - a thing that Finland intended to not tell Sweden unless said man asked - who had been eager to assist him, blabbering on about how he should bring out the colour of his eyes, make sure his adorable hips should stand out and become more noticeable and so on. Finland had just been happy they would help him. He didn't know anything about wedding dresses.
"Think you'd look rad with a high pony-tail. Buuuut, guess we'll just have to work with that we have, eh?"
The Finn finally seemed to be called back to reality. He blinked slowly, then found the Pole's face that was shining with eagerness and excitement.
"Hallo, anyone home?" the man said and tapped Finland's temples, making the man smile widely.
"Sure. Just a bit... overwhelmed."
"Aah, that's, like, totally understandable. First time wearing a dress and all."
"And I'm getting married." Married.
"Aaand, you're getting married. 'Course, 'course." Poland shot him a wide grin - not too far off from Denmark's usual expression - and handed Finland the veil. The ring to which the tulle was attached was placed on top of the Finn's head and Poland used a small brush to make the hair cover the ring as well as possible.
"Like this, you can't even see it. I'm a genius!" the man chirped and backed away a bit, letting Finland tip and raise his head a bit, then gently move it to the sides. Completely invisible.
"Want some make-up? I think it'd do you good."
The Finn looked at the other blond who nodded at a table behind them. He turned around and studied the tons of make-up presented to him. He didn't even know the names of half the items. Eyeliner, lipstick and rouge, though, he instantly recognized.
Finland bit his lips, not quite sure ifhe wanted that. It might make him look too feminine...
"Eeh, listen here, Finny," Poland said, seemingly having discarded his anxiety of strangers at the moment, and grabbed Finland's cheek, making him look at the Pole. "Rouge would make you seem more alive, pardon the choice of word, and you would look a little healthier." A poke was given to his ribs to prove his point. "See, I've got both red and golden brown. It's a light nuance so it won't look too heavy or awkward on you. 'Sides, some eyeliner would give you a more charming look. Not that you need that but you'd make big Sweden go totally nuts."
Like it won't be bad enough I'm in a dress, Finland thought and fought off a roll of his eyes. His lips were curled in a wide smile, though.
"Not going to say anything about mascara?" he asked. Poland beamed at him.
"Well, now I am! You know, mascara would totally bring out the colour of your eyes and would make you look more alluring. But then again, don't think Sweden can take much more. Just those moves with your hips? He won't be able to resist you. And if you got some lipstick, too, you'd totally be able to mark him your own!"
I have other ways to do that, the Finn silently hummed to himself as he allowed Poland to put on just a bit of rouge on his cheekbones and cheeks, the colour chosen the light golden brown that provided his smiling face a healthy colour and indeed make it look like there was more meat on his cheekbones. A nearly invisible touch of violet mascara was applied to his eyelashes and though it was nothing more than a single brush of the pen, it somehow made his eyes look bigger and the colour of them was brought out like Poland had said. Finland stopped it there before he ended up feeling like a doll, saying that this was enough. The Pole shrugged and packed away the make-up just as Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia emerged from the kitchen, chatting lively in their own languages.
They seemed to be ready to faint when their eyes fell on the Finn. A long silence stretched out between them where Finland just looked at them, beginning to fidget nervously with his fingers when they didn't say anything. How did he look in other's eyes? He knew that he felt incredibly - and unnervingly - comfortable with himself, even if the dress and corset hindered his movements just a bit. But what about others?
In reality, he only truly cared about how Sweden would see him, what he would make the giant man feel and how he would react to seeing him like this. He could feel a blush crawl out underneath the rouge and now blessed the invention for covering it so well.
"Eesti?" he said anxiously, soon becoming desperate for an answer to his unspoken questions. The bespectacled man stared for a few seconds longer, then cleared his throat and began to move towards him.
"You..." he started but choked halfway through the words and had to start over. "You look... almost like someone I would date. But you still have... a masculine touch, somehow. I think Sweden will be very happy about seeing you like this." Knowing that this was the biggest praise you could get from a straight man when facing his best friend in a wedding dress and with make-up, Finland smiled even wider and he closed the small gap between them to give him a tight hug.
"Thank you," the Finn mumbled and gave him a tight squeeze before letting go of him. Estonia smiled at him and there was genuine happiness in his eyes. Finland then turned to the others, biting his lips to prevent the question he knew they knew he was about to ask.
"Don't bite your lips, you will, like, ruin them!" Poland instantly ordered but it just made the Finn chuckle a bit and Lithuania gave his friend a soft smile.
"You are very pretty," the brunette said kindly and studied Finland's appearance a bit closer, daring to take a step towards him. "I personally wouldn't date you but that's entirely because I'm straight. Mr. Sweden will indeed be pleased." Lithuania looked sincere and you could never believe his smile to be fake. It was as real and true as Sweden being homosexual.
You bet he will.
The Latvian didn't say anything but just nodded to show that he agreed with his 'brothers'.
As Denmark steadily and expertly drove the big Volvo through the streets and towards the chosen church, the two archenemies - for once - talked freely and willingly. There was mocking and insulting but that was just how they were. No good conversation without a couple of insults. Viking-aged insults scored more points than modern ones.
Meanwhile while this took place, Sweden was looking at the small card he would soon be hiding in his chest pocket along with the cloth. On the paper were scribbled many words with a neat and tight handwriting, small words that served as a reminder to what he should say next. He read them even if he already knew them, and the sentences in which they fit, by heart. He had practiced them for days, reciting them in front of the mirror, imaging his adorable Finn to stand before him instead of a big and intimidating guy.
They reached the outskirts of the city and the traffic got lighter and it became easier to manoeuvre through narrow places.
"Have you seen Finny's dress?" Denmark decided to ask him as they stopped for red light. Norway and Iceland were completely quiet in the back.
Sweden shook his head, still focusing on the card, forming every word with his mouth yet without uttering a single sound.
"Heh. Will be interesting, then. Bet you're excited?"
Sweden nodded.
"'Course I am. It's Tino, right? 'Course I'd be excited."
The Dane grinned and sped up when the light turned green. And in the distance, if you looked closely, you would be able to see the tower of an old church.
Right, this is the first part of the wedding-thing. I deeply and sincerely apologize if you find it wrong to have Finland in a wedding dress but I have had it planned for ages.
Translations:
Ja = Yes(Swedish; also working in Danish and Norwegian)
Eesti = Estonia (Finnish as well as Estonian)
