A/N: Uhm…I wasn't supposed to take nearly two years to come out with this third chapter. I'm so sorry for the long wait. However, I will say that despite how long it has taken for this update, I have never given up on this project. It's just that I would only write a few sentences at a time, because my inspiration waxes and wanes like the Moon, and it is difficult for me to simply force myself to write. But, I must confess that a few lovely reviewers have given me the kick I needed to stay motivated. So, thank you for your encouragements; your words really do inspire me to keep going.
…
Mikkel Køhler – The name I liked best for Denmark (because I find the popular fandom name for Denmark, 'Matthias', is too similar to Canada's name, Matthew). Its English equivalent would be 'Michael'.
Willem van der Meer – The name I liked best for the Netherlands. Its English equivalent would be 'William from the Lake', or so the Internet told me.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, nor do I make any profit from this story.
Please, enjoy!
Canadian Hygge
Matthew woke up much like he had the previous morning, with the Dane sleeping peacefully at his side. Fondly, he ruffled the fluffy blond mane – because really, Mikkel sort of looked like a lion like this, long limbs languorous and spread out with hidden strength – all with a tiny smile etched onto his lips. Moments like these were what he enjoyed most, the ones spent in silence simply contemplating the man that had somehow – Canada had still not figured it out, nor did he want to – managed to capture his heart without the North American's notice.
Unable to quell his want, he kissed the Danish nation soundlessly. Nothing too extravagant, just some slow lip on lip broken by a dash of playful nips. One bright blue eye blinked right open in response, followed shortly by a pleased sort of half-growl-half-moan.
Oh well, so much for getting away with it, Matthew thought, though could not feel any real disappointment by this new development. His attention was soon taken over by strong, warm arms compassing his waist and eager fingers kneading his skin, touching as if trying to determine whether this was taking place in real life or within a dream.
"Sleep well?"
"Mmyeah," the still-not-quite-awake European answered whilst stretching, sighing happily upon hearing his joints pop. "No matter what, I always get a good night's rest when I'm with you."
When silence was all that greeted him, Mikkel bit his cheeks in worry, the events from the previous day fresh in his mind.
"Hey, Matt?"
"Yeah?"
Mikkel relaxed when the Canadian began to stroke his arm in long, slow strokes, communicating the message that he was attentive to whatever was to be said next.
"Am I forgiven?"
There was a slight pause, then the strokes returned as they had been before. "What for?"
Denmark gulped, preventing himself from biting his cheeks again. "For what happened yesterday. I know I come off as –"
"Shh," Matthew pressed a finger to the Dane's lips.
Though in that instant, Denmark was not having it. "Matt, you can't just keep pushing the problem 'til it goes away."
"I'm not," Matthew hummed, now stroking the Dane's neck with the tips of his fingers. "I just don't want to talk about things like that when we've just woken up. I'd rather wait until I've at least gotten some coffee in my system."
With a resigned sigh, Mikkel nodded in compliance, "Alright, alright, fine."
It was just as good. If Matthew was a fraction as emotionally conflicted as he was, then things were surely going to be resolved by the end of the day.
Or perhaps not.
EXPO 67
Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Beginning of May, 1967
Matthew had promised Finland (and consequently, the rest of the Nordics) that he would spare a visit to the Scandinavia Pavilion.
He had also made a promise to the Netherlands that he would visit his Pavilion.
Which was why he found himself in his current predicament…
He had been going about his day – that is, attracting and welcoming visitors into the Katimavik – when a certain Dutchman happened upon him, stealing a quick kiss in the process, much to the North American's embarrassment.
Now, it was no secret to any of the nations that Willem and Matthew were… more than friendly. It was not the sort of relationship ('arrangement' would probably be a better term) worthy of the cheesiest of romance novels, but it worked for them; Willem more or less had Matthew all to himself, and Matthew had someone he deeply trusted with whom to share his bed.
And it suited both just fine.
The Canadian was just about ready to admonish the Dutchman about kissing in public (between two men, no less) when the distressed cries of a woman met his ears, prompting Canada into action whilst ignoring a disoriented Willem's questioning stare by the same token.
It was then, as he pushed through the crowd that had gathered in the event of this sudden commotion, that he recognized the distraught mother to be Manon. Matthew was quick to identify the root of the problem upon noticing little Mireille was not with her.
"Madame Desmers?" he approached her tentatively. "Y a-t-il un problème?"
The young mother turned upon hearing her name, and not a second later a relieved sigh left her lips as she ran to him, gripping his lapels as though he might slip away. "Monsieur Canada! Ma fille! J'ai perdu ma fille. S'il-vous-plaît, aidez-moi à la retrouver. J'vous en supplie."
Canada shot a quick look to the Dutchman standing in wait a few meters away. Willem took it as his cue to approach in turn, having not understood the rapid Québécois being exchanged amongst both Canadians.
The woman immediately adopted a guarded stance upon noticing Willem.
"Ne t'inquiète pas. C't'un cher ami des Pays-Bas. Il est ici pour offrir son aide," Matthew immediately assured, attempting to calm the woman whose nerves were already frazzled to begin with. Matthew forgot how intimidating the tall Dutchman looked, especially to anyone who had never met him.
Once Manon acknowledged for herself that the newcomer was indeed not a threat, eyeing his nametag identifying him as a host from the Dutch Pavilion, she briefly nodded to the man in recognition.
After they had notified security officials and other relevant personnel, the three split up, each commencing their search for the missing child.
It was nearly a half hour later, sweaty and desperate, that Matthew ultimately found little Mireille, crying for her 'maman' while nestled protectively in the arms of one Mikkel Køhler, personification of Denmark.
LATER THAT MORNING, PRESENT DAY
"Hey, I was thinking. How 'bout we do something today? I've been all cooped up in here since yesterday and although that's fun on occasion, I'm a man of action!"
Matthew seemed to be considering this, though was actually much more concerned with the bedsheet-filled hamper in his arms (because they were decidedly filthy from the previous night's activities, and there was no way in hell he would allow himself to sleep in such questionably-stained bedding again tonight).
Realizing that no answer was forthcoming, the Dane soldiered on, "Maybe you could show me around your capital?"
"It hasn't changed all that much since the last time you visited," Matthew answered absentmindedly, only half-registering that Mikkel was following alongside him toward the laundry room.
The former Viking pouted (and on that note, how a former Viking could pout was anyone's guess). Canada abruptly halted when the basket was suddenly yanked out of his hands, frowning, "Real mature, Mike."
"If it could get you to actually listen to me every once in a while, I shall not hesitate to stoop so low."
The North American huffed, patting the other's shoulder indulgently, "Okay, fine, you win. You've gained my undivided attention. Now speak."
"Great!" To say Mikkel was pleased would be a gruesome understatement, "What are the plans for today? You don't have another meeting planned, right? And you've done all your work? We're free to spend the day together?"
The Canadian could not help but smile at such raw enthusiasm. The Dane had a trademark way of brightening his day - though lest he forget the opposite was also true. "Yeah. Yeah, we're free to do whatever."
"Hmm, 'whatever', huh?" He propped the basket against his hip, his free arm encircling Canada's waist, pulling him closer with a seductive wink, "Don't tempt me, Williams."
And oh, Canada let himself give in to the moment, his lips meeting Mikkel's in a searing kiss. It was hard to resist the handsome Scandinavian when he got like this, those enticing blue irises nearly overcome by dilated pupils in a clear sign of desire. "I want you."
"Mmm, and I will gladly give myself to you. Again and again and again, until you are beyond satiated, and then some."
"Crisse. Keep talking like that and I'll never let you leave this house again."
The Dane let out a chuckle, "You'd like that wouldn't you? To keep me here as your prisoner? Your own personal sex toy."
"Man, when you put it that way..."
"Sounds kinda hot, doesn't it?"
"Only because I'm horny at the moment. It remains that I'm a man of morals, and a country founded on the Rule of Law, even if it doesn't seem like it at times."
Mikkel promptly laughed, a large grin adorning his face. "You're a riot, Williams. You know that?"
Silence then ensued, warm and amicable until Mikkel suddenly let his insecurities spill forth:
"Hey, Matt?" he bit his lower lip, waiting until inquisitive violet eyes met his own. "Do you even like me?"
"Excuse me? What in the world–" Again, with the Scandinavian's dizzying ability to trade emotions at the drop of a hat!
"I know I could get pretty annoying most times. And I probably bother you and tick you off a lot, too. But I can't help it! I always feel so unsure, and so I feel like you need to do something about it, almost like I expect you to prove that I matter to you and that you only have your heart set on me, but I come off as a real jerk when I have my jealous moments and I always regret it afterwards because I know you really don't need that in your life, and so I'm sorry, but it's because I really like you, otherwise I wouldn't be trying so hard to keep you by my side, and–"
"Woah! Woah, slow down there, Mikkel." The Canadian waved his hands in a placating fashion. "You're turning purple from all the talking. I need you to breathe."
"Say you love me," a frantic kiss to Matthew's earlobe, "and need me, and yearn for me as I do you. Sayitsayitsayit–"
A sudden shove was what managed to interrupt the Dane's impromptu chanting session.
"Mikkel, stop." Matthew stepped back, out of breath and brows furrowed in frustration. "You always want too much from me."
Too much? Was he really asking for too much? He didn't think so. In fact, if anything, he thought Matthew was giving too little.
Mikkel had to bite his tongue and force himself quiet, because Lord only knew he was willing to kill just to be able to kiss Matthew any day he wanted, and there went the Canadian blowing it all away with a mere sentence.
Canada sighed, massaging his temples, "Look. I was not roped into being with you. I wanted this – you – of my own volition. I don't need to 'say' anything, alright? Just the fact that I'm here, now, with you... it all goes without saying."
"Yeah, I guess, but... is there something so wrong with wanting to hear a reassurance every now and then?" he asked pitifully.
"It's just that… Well… No," Matthew finally settled with the truth, swiping a hand through his bangs guiltily. "No. There isn't," he added softly, gaze anchored to the floor in shame.
Denmark then laughed. It sounded rough, forced, to Matthew's ears.
"Well would you look at that. We really are incompatible after all." Similar to his previous laughter, his words were also rough, forced.
Canada chose not to comment.
EXPO 67
Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Beginning of May, 1967
"Denmark?" Matthew asked in a whisper, violet eyes conveying his astonishment. Blue eyes meeting his is what prompted his feet forward, dispelling his previous stupor. The fact that the Dane was comforting – protecting – one of his citizens… it was doing strange, unspeakable things to his heart. The Canadian looked to the sniffling child, and tentatively patted her head. "Re-bonjour, cocotte. J'suis content de te voir saine et sauve."
"Monsieur Canada?" The child lifted her head from her savior's shoulder, a relieved smile instantly blooming on her lips.
Faster than he could count to three, Mireille jumped into his arms, the child in question babbling softly in French. Matthew shushed her, rubbing her back soothingly with his free hand. He then gave a little nod to Denmark in thanks, before carrying the child back to the agreed rendez-vous point.
He could not help but feel a set of eyes following his every step.
…
Later, when mother had been reunited with daughter, Matthew thought to himself that a proper thank you was in order. After all, it was not every day one received such an opportunity to converse with the mysterious Dane.
THAT AFTERNOON, PRESENT DAY
Canada knew a mistake when he saw one.
Suggesting they visit the Tulip Festival grounds was one such mistake.
Rather, it was certainly not the best move when it came to an easily-jealous Denmark.
"Oh, come off it, Mikkel," he huffed. "You wanna go, or not?"
Avoiding Canada's eyes in favor of glaring at the floor, the European replied gruffly, "Is your boyfriend, the Netherlands, gonna be present? I'm just dying to be a third wheel in whatever lovy-dovy thing you two got going on."
Matthew rolled his eyes. Typical. "You're the one who insisted on visiting Ottawa in May. My Tulip Festival so happens to take place at this time, and there's only so much to see in my capital. It's mostly just government buildings, you know."
The Dane simply stuck his tongue out, ever the three-year-old. "Can't we just take a romantic canoe trip on the canal? Or visit your parliament building? Or heck, how about we just stay inside and I'll make it worth your while?" He winked, as seductive as an overgrown toddler after a temper tantrum could be.
"Need I remind you that you were the one who was adamant on going out, not even a minute ago."
"Well yeah, but only because I thought you were going to suggest something romantic."
"Frolicking about a field of tulips is romantic."
"Sure it is! If it were the Netherlands we were dating. But I am not dating Willem, am I? And neither are you? My idea of a good time doesn't involve gazing at flowers sent to you by another nation! Another nation, need I remind you, that you were previously in a romantic relationship with!"
Matthew waved the concerns away. "I told you already. It was just sex with no strings attached. It was never –"
"Oh? And what about Willem? I doubt that was how he saw it. The guy still sends you flowers, for Christ's sake! After all these years, he still speaks so fondly of you. Like you're his entire world."
"Well my people helped his own citizens greatly in the War."
Blue eyes narrowed skeptically. "Are you seriously saying you don't notice how he looks at you? Anyone with eyes could see his affection for you. I didn't think you to be so dense. I expected this from Alfred, but not you, Matt."
"Well, Al and I are technically related."
The European crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Don't care. No. Tulips." When he saw the Canadian's lips begin to lift into a pout, the Dane looked away; he could build himself a resistance to those damnable puppy-dog eyes later. "Save yourself the effort. I'm not budging on this one."
Matthew inwardly smirked. Oh, this was too easy. "Fine. I'll go alone. In fact, Willem told me he just might bring his siblings along this year. Heck, Spain might come, too."
Denmark froze upon hearing that last line. Spain was known for loving cute things, and by Odin was his Matthew the cutest of them all. "Oh, hell no! Fine, you got me. Happy?" He then tacked on, "That was dirty, and you know it," under his breath.
Matthew merely sent a victorious smile his way, pearly whites gleaming and rose-colored lips so tempting Mikkel forgot why he was even angry to begin with.
Keeping his amusement to himself – really, the Dane could be so predictable at times – the North American pulled his unresisting lover out the door.
EXPO 67
Montreal, Quebec, Canada
Beginning of May, 1967
"They all left?"
The representation of Denmark, who had been welcoming a Canadian couple into the Scandinavian Pavilion, jumped when Canada himself approached him from behind, confusion evident in those beautiful amethyst eyes.
'Those eyes… so similar to Iceland's, it's almost frightening.'
"Canada, right?" he greeted with a nod, secretly delighted. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
The Canadian chuckled, and oh, it suddenly dawned on Mikkel that he could spend the rest of his days listening to that wonderful sound on rewind. The verity of this struck him hard, a veritable arrow to the heart. He was snapped out of his inner musings by Matthew's next words:
"Last time I checked, we were still within my borders, but sure, for the time being you can call this yours."
The smile Matthew was currently sending his way was blinding; Denmark felt like he would melt at any given moment, a lovesick Danish puddle at Canada's feet. That would be a good way to go. At least he would die happy.
Mikkel blinked, keeping this sudden onslaught of feelings at bay – now was not the time dammit! – and sent his own, awkward smile.
It seemed like Matthew had yet to notice his strange behaviour, or perhaps was keeping silent out of courtesy. Whatever the case, Mikkel was thankful.
"Anyways, to answer your question, I was intent on inviting you and the rest of the Nordics to a special night out. I spent the last twenty minutes searching but it seems to me that you're the only one left. Have the other four gone home?"
"Ah, yeah, about that," he scratched the back of his neck, gaze traveling skyward, "I was tasked with telling you that they had business to attend to back in Europe, but I forgot. Sorry." He tentatively let his eyes wander back to Matthew. "For what it's worth, I wouldn't mind taking you up on your offer. That is, if you don't mind it being just you and me."
Up until then, Matthew had seemed unsure, brows furrowed in thought. It only took him a split second to decide his next course of action. "You know… I think that sounds like a plan. It'll be a good occasion to bond with a fellow nation that I rarely get to spend time with. So it's settled then, meet me at the entrance to the Katimavik at, say, 8pm sharp?"
Could it be? Were the Gods smiling down on him? Screw dying anytime soon! He needed to be alive long enough for this date. Because what else could it be if not a date?
"S-sure, that sounds good," he promptly answered, trying but failing to remain cool and collected.
"Perfect. See you then." The Canadian turned to leave, waving all the while.
"Wait! What should I wear? You haven't given me any details as to the nature of this dat- uhm, event." Odin help him, he had almost blurted the irreparable.
Whilst walking, the North American answered cryptically, "What you decide to wear won't matter. You'll see why."
Before Mikkel could ask for Matthew to elaborate further, the Canadian had left his line of sight, lost amidst the throng of visitors and personnel alike.
Well damn.
End of the Third Chapter – Fin du Troisième Chapitre
Translations:
"Y a-t-il un problème?" – French for "Is there a problem?"
"Monsieur Canada! Ma fille! J'ai perdu ma fille. S'il-vous-plaît, aidez-moi à la retrouver. J'vous en supplie." – Quebec French for "Mister Canada! My daughter! I lost my daughter. Please, help me find her. I beg you."
"Ne t'inquiète pas. C't'un cher ami des Pays-Bas. Il est ici pour offrir son aide." – Quebec French for "Don't worry. He's a dear friend from the Netherlands. He's here to offer his assistance."
"Re-bonjour, cocotte. J'suis content de te voir saine et sauve." – French for "Hello again, cocotte (kinda like calling a child 'sweet pea'). I'm glad to see you safe and sound."
Some historical information:
According to the research I've done on Expo 67, the five Scandinavian countries shared a single Pavilion: the Scandinavia Pavilion. It's one of the reasons I have incorporated all five Nordics into the story, instead of just Denmark. That, and I just happen to love the Nordics.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Also, thank you for all the patience you have shown me! It is very much appreciated, let me tell you.
Sending you warm Summer kisses from Canada,
~SailorHikarinoMu