The knife moved steadily, up and down, wavering only slightly as it pushed through a particularly thick piece. Each slice stuck to the blade for a moment before tilting, threatening to roll off the counter. A hand gently secured the left end of the roll, holding the construction in place. The index finger, pressed into the dough, was turning brown with melted chocolate.

"Is the staring really necessary?" he asked without turning around or raising his voice. The blank silence that met his query was all the answer he needed. 'Don't turn around. You know he's there this time. If you look, he'll… tell you not to worry or something. It'll be awkward.' Defiantly, he started to hum.

The stained glass cookies were almost finished. He'd decided to just make one batch. (He wouldn't swear to it, but it seemed as though Sweden was putting on weight.) In any case, it wouldn't hurt to save the sugar and eggs. Ordinarily, he'd be relaxed. Stained glass cookies were ridiculously easy to make, and the final stage was the easiest part. It was normal for someone, be it Sealand, Sweden, or Estonia, to sit behind him and eye the wedges of chocolate and marshmallow, waiting to pounce.

The problem was that Sweden clearly wasn't interested in the cookies. He was watching the large kitchen knife that forced its way through the half-frozen sugar. Each time Finland struggled to saw through a thick section, he could feel the other's eyes on his fingers.

He wanted to explain that it wouldn't happen. That he wasn't nearly stressed or scared or depressed enough to do anything, and that he wasn't foolish enough to do it in front of someone else. That baking settled him, and that were it not for Sweden's menacing stare, he'd be perfectly calm.

Of course, that would sound like an excuse.

Sweden wasn't speaking any more than was normal for him, but he was obviously growing more worried. With the worry came an exacting, constant paranoia. In spite of what he had told Austria, they hadn't talked. Not really. Finland had sworn that he would never do anything to jeopardize the things that mattered to him, and Sweden had quietly wondered what exactly that meant. In an effort to relieve the tension, Finland had avoided the knives, the stove – the whole kitchen, really – for weeks. Unfortunately, that had only made Sweden think that there was something else, somewhere else. Now, Finland was cautiously returning to the kitchen, and Sweden seemed to be making an effort to show how little he trusted him.

'This is ridiculous. I should just talk to him. Figure out a way to tell him not to worry.' He snuck a glance behind him. Sweden's arms were crossed, but his expression didn't suggest impatience. 'Maybe I should plan out what I'll say in advance. "Sweden. Look, I know you're worried about me, but I" – too forceful. "I care about you and Sealand" – sounds like I'm breaking up with him. "I'm trying to make this better, but I need some space" – could work. What if he says he wants to call Austria? Wait, Austria's not working. Still, he could suggest…' As he considered, the knife slowed, faltered, and stopped.

"Somethin' wrong?" No inflection. Not a threat, but a reminder of his presence. Finland dully noted a spark of irritation, too common to express.

"I'm fine. Just taking a break," he replied. Then, in a cheerfully false tone, "I know you want these cookies, but you'll have to wait a bit longer."

Sweden didn't rise to the bait, only grunting in reply.

'The problem is, no matter how honest I try to be, it'll sound like a lie… If he won't believe me anyway, lying might not be a bad idea. Let's see: can't lie about doing it before. He won't buy it if I say it'll never happen again if I don't really do it. "I realized something last time…" Don't say "last time." It'll sound like it's normal for you. "I realized something when you caught me with the knife. You were so worried" – and still are. "I didn't want to upset you, and I still don't. I don't want to cause you, or the others, any pain" – sounds like a suicide note. That'll calm him down. Try again: "I don't want to be a" – burden? – "responsibility. You shouldn't have to keep an eye on me as well as Sealand. It's detracting from your work, and it isn't fair to either one of you. That's why I'm going to go see Austria as soon as I can."' He sliced the final cookie, peering over his shoulder as he mechanically placed them on a plate. Sweden didn't relax his posture until the knife was washed and back in the rack. '"I promise.'"

He carried the plate over, picking up a cookie and munching on it as he went.

"Here they are," he chirped. 'Here goes.' He sat down. "Hey, can I talk to you about something?"

Sweden shrugged in a manner that was supposed to be indifferent. Taking it (correctly) as encouragement, Finland launched into his speech. Sweden watched quietly, his gaze never wavering, as he spoke, gently placing a hand on the other's arm for the final sentence. He didn't stop watching, or start talking, when Finland was finished.

"Um… That's what I wanted to say," he babbled. "I mean, I know that Austria isn't exactly in business right now, but I'll see him soon." 'You already said that, you moron.' "Unless you'd rather I talk to Germany. Of course, Germany has his own thing. France, maybe? I don't really want to go to America, but I'll do that too if you want." He laughed nervously. "Could you please say something?"

"Austria's fine."

He grinned widely. "Of course. I don't know why I thought otherwise. Look, I'm going to go say goodnight to Sealand. Enjoy the cookies!" He raced out of the room as quickly as he could. 'Perfect. Now I just have to get out of going. That won't be hard until he comes back to work. Maybe I can just avoid telling him anything for awhile. Hmm…'

Estonia poked his head into the kitchen. "Hey, I came in to get some water." He walked over to the sink. "Are those stained glass?" Sweden silently proffered the plate. He took one with a small smile before sitting down.

"Couldn' sleep?" asked Sweden noncommittally.

"No, just thirsty." The cookies disappeared at a speed surprising to both of them (although only Estonia showed it). They were left staring at each other, Estonia nursing the remains of his water.

"Uh, Sweden?"

"Yeah." (The question mark, as he supposed, was implied.)

"I might've heard some of what Finland said, and I don't want to get involved or anything, but it didn't seem like he was being honest. He's probably not going to see Austria, or – or anyone else he mentioned." Sweden looked at the empty plate in silence. "I'm not trying to make you mad. I was just thinking that… maybe you didn't realize that he was lying."

"I know."

"It's just that – wait, you know? Then why'd you just let him off the hook?"

Sweden got up and brought the plate to the sink. "He's lying now. Doesn' mean it won't happen."