A/N : Eh heh heh. I'm sorry.

Warnings! : AU. Human characters. DenFin, SweGer, in equal proportions. Some one-sided SuFin and past RusGer. A good amount of Fin+Ger bromance. Violence, language, minor drug use, etc. Same old, same old from me. Nothing new. Expect slower updates on this one.

FLOWER CROWN

Chapter 1

Legacy

Timo had won every single possible prize in the middleweight boxing world, at least once.

He wasn't vain enough to call himself a legend, nor did he need to; other people did that for him. In Finland, Timo was practically a celebrity, and most boxing fans came up to him to ask for an autograph. Timo didn't care much for the public eye, and stayed in the shadows as best he could.

The only time he loved the lights and glamour was in the ring, because that was where he was happiest.

The greatest joy of his life was boxing. He had started at ten, as a pastime with his father, and when he had fallen in love with it, he aimed to do it professionally. At fifteen, he began competing, and took on the middleweight world the day he turned eighteen.

As Timo's skill increased, his bookings expanded.

When Timo boxed outside of Finland for the first time, it felt as if the entire world had bowed to him in some way. Felt invincible, incredible, king of the mountain.

Well—woulda been better had anyone been able to pronounce his damn name.

Väinämöinen.

Christ almighty, was that so damn hard? Timo was lucky enough to be named after a mythological hero, and the outside world butchered his heritage. Announcers stammered helplessly, in country after country, time after time, and after Timo's fifth fight outside of Finland, his trainer had come up to him and said, 'We need a nickname for you.'

No kidding.

Timo didn't get to think up a cool or badass nickname for himself, unfortunately, because the papers had gotten to it first and merely called him 'The Finn'.

After a while, it stuck, and Timo was known in the boxing world as simply 'Finn'. He hated it, intensely, but begrudgingly accepted it because he was a Finn, and anytime that someone remembered Finland existed was a good day indeed.

Timo blazed through the ranks, rose up in glory, and was undefeated.

Except for that one time.

In the ring, Timo was a legend, and had left a lasting impression.

Outside of boxing, however, Timo's life was rather uneventful. Boring. Dull. Timo was boring and dull, so he supposed that made quite a bit of sense. He didn't have much of a social life, had very few people in his circle, and was pretty happy that way. He had lovers on and off, but his relationships never seemed to last more than a year at most. A scarce handful of friends.

He had much worse luck in love than he did in the ring.

In fact, Timo had only two constant men in his life, and felt very differently about them.

The first was his manager, Berwald.

A tall, surly, slow Swede, who had taken over Timo's career about four years ago. Timo had disliked Berwald from the very first moment he had laid eyes upon that big bastard. And not because he was Swedish. Really! Really. Just—you know, did he have to be Swedish? How the hell had that even happened? Timo couldn't remember, really, but it was highly distasteful. Not that he was prejudiced against Swedes or anything.

Really.

...didn't like Swedes, though. Off the record.

But Berwald was a special specimen, and brought out levels of annoyance and resentment that Timo hadn't thought were actually possible for him to feel, being unfamiliar with potent emotions.

Berwald was a creep, plain and simple. Timo couldn't stand him, absolutely detested everything about him, and he didn't really even know why because he supposed in the grander scheme of things Berwald was actually quite inoffensive. He rarely spoke, was slow and quiet and serious, professional, efficient, punctual, and quite good at managing everything that Timo needed.

But he was just...

Creepy.

Berwald was a huge guy, a retired heavyweight a few years older than Timo, and Timo didn't know if maybe he had just taken one too many blows to the head, because Berwald just stared at Timo. Stared and stared and stared at him, until Timo was squirming and unnerved, and then when Timo told him to knock it off Berwald glanced away for a nanosecond and then stared some more. As if Berwald's brain were malfunctioning and so he just stared in a straight line. Did Berwald even blink? Had never been stared at as hard as he was by Berwald. Made him shudder.

Timo couldn't stand him.

Making eye contact with people was bad enough, but being stared at by Berwald made him feel like he was being quite literally dissected. Berwald needed to respect that Timo was Finnish and therefore holding eye contact with someone he didn't like was intensely uncomfortable.

Inhumane.

And in those rare moments that Berwald did actually open his mouth and speak, it was almost worse. His voice was so gruff and his speech so clipped that half of the time Timo couldn't understand what the hell the bastard was even saying. When he did understand was worse, because most of the time Berwald was gushing over him.

'Ya did real good up there today.'

'Ya keep gettin' better and better, really.'

'Protect yer face more, ya don't want it gettin' messed up, yer too handsome for that.'

Yikes.

Berwald was Timo's biggest fangirl, it seemed, and Timo supposed he should have been flattered, but he wasn't. He woulda rather run Berwald over with his car than ever have Berwald clap a heavy hand down on his shoulder. Made him shudder every time Berwald touched him, every time Berwald leaned in to speak to him. If you could call Berwald tossing out random words in his thick, country bumpkin accent speaking. That was being generous.

Timo was about eighty-five percent certain that Berwald was in love with him. The other fifteen percent he reserved for the possibility that Berwald's brain had just gotten broken in the ring along with his nose. Timo would have been more inclined to give Berwald the time of day had Berwald ticked off the boxes of being 'not Swedish', 'more handsome', and 'less creepy'. But he didn't tick a single damn one, and so here they were. Timo wasn't an asshole, nah, but he was a human, and perfectly imperfect, and Berwald just didn't do it for him.

In any sense.

Timo couldn't wait until he fell under new management.

The second constant man in Timo's life was another boxer.

Timo had a sublime record, and had only ever lost one time in his life. That one time, figured, was to his greatest 'rival'.

Ludwig Beilschmidt.

Ludwig was a young German, who had shot up in fame and reputation as quickly as Timo had. Like Timo, Ludwig had only ever lost once.

Ludwig was something else.

Very pale, white as could be, with platinum hair and icy blue eyes. Very intimidating and frosty at a glance. Sharp features. Ludwig looked like some villain out of a bad American action movie, and his eyes coulda cut glass. Looked unshakeable, emotionless, stoic and cold and hard. Timo would never forget the thrill that he had felt standing before that man for the first time. Had never seen anyone quite like Ludwig, and something about him seemed to freeze his opponents in place. Didn't help that Ludwig was a bleeder. His pale skin was much less hard than he was, and he bruised and cut very easily, leaving him a bloody mess after even the lightest of matches. But that worked to Ludwig's advantage, because it made him look so much more frightening after victory, the bright red of his blood contrasting so starkly with his milky skin and blue eyes.

Timo fangirled from time to time over Ludwig, as much as he had ever accused Berwald of fangirling over him. Watched every single one of his matches on the television, without fail. Admired him greatly, loved every move he made, and was always fascinated.

As the papers had christened Timo as 'Finn', so too had Ludwig been given the less-than-intimidating nickname of 'Blondie.' The papers weren't exactly creative, but Timo could never say they weren't accurate. Timo was indeed Finnish and Ludwig was indeed very blond. So. There was that.

Wished it had been more dramatic, perhaps, because having his only loss coming from a man named Blondie wasn't exactly...fitting. More than that, Timo had lost to Ludwig the very first time they had ever fought. Ludwig was green then still, eighteen and new to the professional scene. Timo had been twenty-seven, seasoned, unbeaten. Losing to Ludwig had been extremely humiliating. Going twelve rounds with that pale bastard of a kid only to have the judges hand a victory over to Ludwig, who in defeating Timo had claimed the middleweight championship belt.

Getting pummeled senseless by Ludwig's big fists had not been Timo's proudest moment, particularly since that was Ludwig's first time competing for that belt. He had accepted the defeat all the same, and considered it done and over with. The papers had something else in mind, and everyone had been screaming for years for a rematch of Finn v. Blondie. Timo had refused, until the money piled up and became far too tempting. Ludwig must have concurred, because three years later they were fighting again.

That time, Timo knocked Ludwig out in the ninth round, and he felt his ego and honor had been restored.

As far as Timo and Ludwig had been concerned, they were even, and there was no need for another bout between them.

But still, always, the world seemed to want to make Finn v. Blondie something it just wasn't. Ludwig haunted Timo without even trying to, and there was never a fight nor press conference that didn't eventually bring up Ludwig's name.

Oh, Ludwig.

They hadn't ever intended to become grand rivals. Actually, they were pretty good friends. Timo liked Ludwig just fine. More than fine, actually. Of all the guys in the boxing world that Timo knew, Ludwig was by far his favorite, if only because Ludwig wasn't a pretentious, egotistical asshole.

Ludwig and Timo had gotten along right off, and they texted each other casually. They would always get together whenever they happened to be in the same city and go out for a beer. Ludwig was a nice guy, as quiet and humble as Timo, and that was rare in their world so they had drifted to each other.

Ludwig was his friend, and so in some way that made it a little more annoying that Ludwig was the only man that had ever beaten him. Could never hold it against him, though, could never in his life had disliked that dumb son of a bitch, because Ludwig was sweet as a mutt beneath that icy exterior. So much so, in fact, that Ludwig had actually invited Timo to his wedding, two years after Timo had defeated him. Timo had gone, out of courtesy, and of course for free drinks, because Timo was Finnish.

Ludwig had married another boxer. A heavyweight. A huge, terrifying looking Russian (with a much cooler nickname, the lucky bastard—Tank), and that had been the gossip of the boxing world because not too many men in that scene were willing to put themselves out there and admit they were gay. But Ludwig had, and he was far too popular for anyone to ever lose respect for him. His husband was not so lucky, being Russian, and was forced into retirement after being denounced in his home country.

Timo was known to swing both ways, but had never had a public relationship, and admired Ludwig and Ivan immensely for having little care for public opinion. Timo had known for a while that Ludwig was about as straight as a circle, but had never found it pertinent information.

Punched just as hard.

And now here they all were, five years later, ten years since the first fight between them, and people still talked about them. Timo considered it old news, and didn't see where the interest still lied. Timo wasn't getting any younger, thirty-seven and near the end of his career, and was very adamant that he would never again face Ludwig in the ring.

Seemed that lately, though, Ludwig's name was being thrown in his face, out of nowhere.

The reason was utterly ridiculous :

Ludwig was getting divorced.

Timo didn't like to pry into other people's personal lives, but Ludwig was obviously a bit of a fascination to him. Hard not to be a little obsessed with Ludwig, so he had perked up and turned his head when he heard the news.

Anyway, the papers always pried into other people's personal lives for him, and so Timo of course knew right away of Ludwig's recent divorce. Ludwig hadn't texted him about it (obviously), hadn't mentioned it at all, and so Timo never sent him a message of condolence, because it would have been awkward for the both of them.

Ludwig had just had some bad luck, was all, and Timo would never have made light of his messy life. Not over the phone, at least. Would save that for the bar.

With Ludwig now in the headlines again, people would ask Timo what he thought about 'Blondie', his opinion on Ludwig's life and marriage and the whatnot, because they were rivals and for that Timo must have had something to say. Nope! Timo always scratched his head, looked around in disbelief, and walked quickly away without a word.

The world wanted Timo and Ludwig to be rivals far more than they had ever wanted to be, made everything so much more dramatic, so much more spiteful, so much more interesting, exciting. The papers and news always made it sound like some electric, violent, crazy rivalry that both men were fueling, some sort of decade-long grudge that was heated and pulsing.

Nah.

Reality was far more boring.

Ludwig and Timo were friends who just happened to have a knack for losing only to the other.

That didn't make for good television or gossip, though, so rivals they were.

Timo stopped caring, and let everyone say and think what they wanted, and Ludwig had done the same, because, in the end, it all came down to the fact that they got paid. They had moved on, had gone down their own paths, and didn't desire coming face to face in the ring. In a bar or sauna, sure, but not behind ropes.

Finn v. Blondie was ancient history, done and over with. Timo would never fight Ludwig again, and that was that. Or so he thought. Probably should have never called Ludwig and invited him over to his house for a short getaway. He had only wanted to make the poor guy feel better during a rough time.

Shoulda remembered that the papers were always looking for something to talk about.