Though winter break would mark the second time the Finnish teen had to leave his boyfriend, it didn't make it much easier. There was something noticeably more difficult about leaving a good thing to return to a bad place instead of simply returning to a bad place from nothing not-so-spectacular. But he didn't want to think too hard at the moment- he had more important matters to attend to before he had to go. Currently he was lying in bed, only a little more time left before he had to leave to catch his plane, and Berwald was above him about fucking his brains out in their frantic last minute love-making.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." Tino whined, needy, his legs thrown apart and one pulled over Berwald's shoulder. "Don't fucking stop." He panted, twisting his hands into the bed sheets.

Berwald wondered if Tino knew how sexy he was, hair sticking to his sweat-drenched forehead and cheeks bright pink. His lips were swollen from a series of rough kisses earlier, eyes lust laden and half lidded, and really it was enough to drive him completely insane- and consequently his mind returned to that strange little want of a pretty little wife.

"Fuck, Be!" said wife half sobbed, starting to try and meet his thrusts. "Fuck I'm close!"

He found himself taking his hands from the boy's hips and moving them to hold his head still while he crashed their lips together, tonguing at the Finn's mouth harshly until he opened wide enough that he managed to get it into his throat. The Finn whined softly, shuddering as he was taken, and Berwald continued to kiss him until he was out of breath. When he was finally forced to break the kiss he leaned in to breathe into the Finn's ear.

"Be the wife." He murmured, caught up in frenzied arousal. "Be the wife."

Tino moaned, unsure of what he had heard and temporarily unable to create any coherent string of words and spread his legs apart wider, crying out as he was thrust into. He was close. He was so, so close. He could feel the familiar feeling of almost-too-much that always came just before just-perfectly enough and succumbed to it, legs shaking as he rode out his orgasm. Berwald took the opportunity to be faster, rougher, and in a few more thrusts managed to bring himself to his own climax, relishing the feeling of spilling his seed inside of his wife. Once finished be buried his head in the crook of Tino's neck, breathing him in.

Chest rising and falling, Tino tried to bring himself back, head still spinning from a mind-numbing orgasm. Fuck. Fuck that was good. That was so, so nice… Smiling, he mentally revisited the experience, trying to remember just what he had missed responding too. Berwald usually didn't speak during sex unless it was in response to something he had said, so he figured that it must have been important. He blew a stray piece of hair out of his eyes, the rest of it in a pretty tousled mess around his face.

"M'wife." Berwald murmured. Tino had taken that far better than he expected.

… What did Berwald just call him?

"What, Be?" He asked, still trying to catch his breath.

"… Wife." Berwald repeated again. The Finn shifted a little then, trying to get a better look at his boyfriend.

"Wife?" He asked, confused. His voice pitched a little higher than he had expected it too, and he blushed when he heard himself. Still though… wife?

Mentally, Berwald kicked himself. He shouldn't have pushed his luck.

"Berwald, is that what you said?" Tino asked, still waiting for a response.

Slowly, Berwald nodded. "Ja." He mumbled, regretful.

Okay. So he was in bed with his boyfriend, who obviously was aware that he was a boy, and he was being called… wife. Okay. He needed a minute to process that. He stroked Berwald's head gently, trying not to come across as though he were ignoring him.

The Swede could feel the hand combing though his hair, and yet he remained rigidly still. He knew Tino was too kind to snap outright, but what scared him was that he had no way to tell what he was thinking right then. How did he manage to get himself into this before they were to part for a little over a week? He had the worst luck.

"Ahm sorry." He murmured, softly. Tino shook his head, and the Swedish boy could feel the hair tickling his face.

"Don't apologize. I'm not mad, baby." Tino replied, gently. And in truth, he wasn't. He knew that much. He just… wasn't entirely sure what to make of this.

Berwald sat up and met his lover's gaze, trying to read his face. It didn't look like he was lying. It didn't sound like it, either. Though he allowed himself to relax a little, he was still tense. Was he upset, then? Annoyed?

Tino sat up so that they were slightly more level, pulling his knees to his chest and brushing some hair behind his ear before he wrapped his arms around his shins.

"I promise I'm not." He assured. "I just… wife? Berwald, I'm not a girl." He smiled, sheepishly, as though he had been hiding the fact even though he knew that he didn't.

"Ah know. Ah wouldn't want ya' to be. Love ya' just the way ya' are, every part a ya'." Berwald responded, eyes on the sheets.

"I love you too… why wife, then, if you're sure you're fine with… ah, my body?" He tried again, blushing madly at that last part.

"It sounds nice," The Swede started "to have a wife. Someone to love. Take care of. Ah… it has nothin' to do with gender 'r sex. Ah just wanted to have that… dynamic." He stumbled.

Tino nodded, listening. Alright. So it was a bit of a shock, and kind of not what he was expecting, but his reasoning sounded alright. It was sweet, actually. But still… what happened if he did take that title? He wasn't a girl. But it made Berwald happy. But…

Damn. This was tricky.

The alarm that he had set on his phone went off, and he cringed. Of all the important times to be interrupted- Berwald still looked so pained, upset, and worried and he really didn't want to have to leave on that note. Resigned to the fact that there was no good note to leave this on, he leaned in and kissed the Swede, gently but wetly, before pulling back.

"Everything is fine sweetie." He assured, gently. "Come on. We have to get dressed."

The Swedish teen nodded, slowly and still unsure, and Tino helped him up and they both dressed. As much as the Finn wished to dispel it, a heavy silence hung over the room and all he could do was wrap his arms around Berwald once they were both dressed and hang on.

"It's all okay." He murmured gently, planting a kiss against the crook of Berwald's neck. The Swede returned the hug, resting his chin atop his lover's head. Unfortunately he had to pull away and retrieve his suitcase, but he took Berwald's hand shortly after.

"It's okay." He said again. "Everything is going to be fine."

Berwald nodded, and let himself be led out by the Finn. The drive to the airport was had in silence, Tino curled against his chest the whole way there non-the-less. When they were finally waiting in the terminal, standing and holding each other, Tino spoke again.

"I expect you to keep in contact with me, love. I'm going to miss you like fuck."

"AH'll miss ya' too- ya' sure ya' don't want to be 'way right now… after all that?" The Swede asked.

"I am. I love you, so don't go thinking you're getting out of this- you're stuck with me now. I expect you to be there." Tino chuckled. It earned him a grateful kiss from his lover.

"Ah will be." He responded, after they parted. Tino nodded, eyes glassing over a little when he caught sight of the time. One minute left. Giving him one last kiss, he took his bag and took a step back.

"See you soon." He said, softly.

"Ja." Berwald responded, just as soft.

And after he was seated and his flight took off, he allowed himself to start to try and reason through the earlier incident again.

For a time that was supposed to be so heart-warming, it felt more like someone was driving an ice pick through Tino's chest.

He had found out on the ride over why a four letter word gave him such a jolt, and though his brain didn't quite process it at first, his heart knew right away. It taunted him from inside of his ribcage, beat whispers through his veins and told him that it was aching, aching, aching because-

Fuck he wasn't going to acknowledge that. He would be so screwed if he did. Then again, wouldn't it be worse if he didn't? Being blind to the world, he had learned, only worked until it shoved itself in his fucking face and forced him to swallow everything he didn't ever want to know. So he sat at the counter, smiling vacantly as he tried to shut that stream of thought out from his mind before it ate him alive, just like the monster and just like the hungry eyes that tried to strip him bare wherever he went.

Mamma was making cookies. He supposed that he should help her. She looked so lonely there, not five feet away, and wouldn't it be great if he could just get up off of his ass and fucking do something to help for a few minutes? Slowly he stood, and he supposed that he looked a little sick because she asked if he was okay before he found himself smiling and laughing and assuring her that everything was just fine ma, just peachy, before he rolled up his sleeves, took a bowl and started to mix the ingredients.

He stared at the ingredients as he worked, watching the butter dissolve into the milk and the sugar stick to the sticky milk-butter hybrid that was starting to take form. Father always called this women's work- a wives task. Father was also a sexist, homophobic douche bag, but that wasn't the point. This was stereotypical, wasn't it, to have the wife in the kitchen and cooking? It was. He knew it. All his life he had seen those gender roles, pink kitchen play-sets for little girls and blue toolboxes for all the boys and the assumptions were always the same- what a lovely wife she'd make one day- they'd say of the little girls, and -what a handsome man he'll be- to the boys. But somehow… somehow he just never fit. He played in that kitchen too, with the rest of the little girls, and no one told him that he would make a lovely wife. Not until Berwald.

The dough was in clumps now, almost clumped enough to start to place it on the cookie-sheets, and he picked it up and kneaded it gently in his hands. He continued to stare at it and tried to imagine. Imagine Berwald only feet away, watching him, with that stern but care-filled stare, after having built a fire (Berwald seemed like the type of man that would build fires) and waiting for him to finish. When the cookies were in the oven his handsome lover would take his usual strides over and hold his waist before kissing him, properly on the lips like he always did. Then they would kiss, and kiss, and kiss, until they were breathless and then maybe Berwald would bend him over the counter or push him against the wall so that Tino could give him all of those things that a wife is supposed to give-

Ooh. That was getting far too kinky for the moment. He felt his face flush and gulped in a breath of fresh air, trying to compose himself. His hair stuck to his slightly sweaty forehead, and methodically he placed the cookie dough in rows on the sheets, milling over his little fantasy in his mind. It had been quite lovely. Actually, it had been really lovely. That- that was something that maybe, he could see himself doing. Maybe. If he didn't push him away before then.

It took him a few minutes before he realized that no matter how many times he scraped the bowl there were no way he was getting another row of cookies onto the sheet. At that, he allowed himself to put the first tray in the oven before taking the dirtied kitchen supplies to the sink and tried to remember how to properly wash dishes. If he was serious about this wife thing- which, really, as much as it scared him he kind of maybe felt like he was- he should at least kind of sort of have a rough idea of how to do 'wifely' things. After a few minutes of pondering he decided to fill the sink with suds and pull on the rubber gloves before he started to scrub, staring at his face in the dirtied water.

He wasn't perfect. He wasn't, by any means, what people should think of when they thought about a trophy wife. He face wasn't completely clear, and he wasn't the golden ratio of what a human should look like. His hair was plain, a little wavy if he didn't take care of it right, and he had a little more fat on him than he would have liked. But what really, really set him apart was that he wasn't blissfully ignorant like the rest of those stupid little fucks were. Sometimes he wished that he was- it would be nice to stop over thinking things- but he knew in his gut that it would never happen.

Would Berwald still want him if he was more than just a pretty little thing to call wife? There was no way to answer the question without asking, but there was also no way to ask. Inevitably, he would slip one day and do something that didn't seem like him but would be exactly who he really was, and then- only then- would he really know. Somehow though, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

He wasn't sure of exactly how long he stood there, but he knew it was until the water had chilled considerably and started to empty out of the sink through the poorly plugged drain. With a barely audible breath he took the supplies out and dried them, putting them away before going into the living room to wait for the cookies to be done.

If Berwald were there he knew he would have made better use of the time.

The Oxenstierna family sat in silence, watching the fire burn, as they sipped their coffee. It was always kind of like this, so peaceful, on Christmas Eve. Tomorrow they would make their rounds, visit the near-by branches of their family for a while, before returning home for the evening.

"Ya' miss him." The mother stated. It was not accusing nor was it a question. It was simply a statement.

"Ja." Berwald responded. "Ahm sorry." He added. He felt terrible always waiting to have his pretty lover back in his arms when his mother remained alone. It was hard right then, though. For as much as the two texted each other they hadn't said a word about their… er, incident, yet, and the tension was killing him.

"Dun be," she said, "Ahm glad ya' found someone sa' lovely."

"Tack." He said.

They both knew it was only a matter of moments before one of them broke the silence. For some odd reason they always chose Christmas Eve to talk about the year ahead in his childhood- it worked well, seeing as he wouldn't be home for New Year's due to scheduling conflicts.

"What're ya' gonna do when yer out of school?" She asked. "D'ya have any ideas?"

"…'sides trade school?" He asked.

"Ja." She responded.

Berwald thought about that one. Of course he had some thoughts, but they were all so loosely organized. Probably not the best plan of action for his senior year, but sometimes it was hard to find time to think. He supposed that he knew what he would do for a job- he'd find some furniture store while he was going to school, learn a few tips (not like he didn't already know the best ones from his mother) and then he'd work on selling his work. Get an apartment, somewhere along the line…

…He knew that he was skirting around one very important issue.

Alright, so he knew that he was young. And so was Tino. And so was their romance. But… there were these things that he felt that just felt so impossible to ignore. There was just this way that the beautiful boy could always make his heart beat, and there was just this feeling from being with him that always felt so right-

Fuck it. If this wasn't being in love he didn't know what was.

"…Ah wanna stay with him." He said, tentatively. "Ah dunno how it'd work, but ah wanna stay with him. Ah… guess it's a bit idealistic. But ah wan' him."

"Idealistic isn't always bad." She said. "Sometimes it just gives ya' somethin' to work for."

He nodded. It did indeed give him something to work for, that was for sure.

"Yer always welcome here, whenever ya' want or need." She assured, after a sip of coffee. "Ya' can bring him, too."

That was enough to bring a small smile to the usually stoic teens face. "Thank you, ma."

"Yer welcome."

And at that they returned to their previous comfortable silence until the fire died down and the coals only glowed.

Later in as he lie in bed, Tino supposed that his Christmas present was a silent night. There was no yelling this evening. None this break, actually- the fuck face must have realized he did quite a number on him last time.

Still, he stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep as usual. The tiny glow of light on his phone told him that it was 1:06 am, and that yes, Tino, this is when normal people should be sleeping but for some reason he still couldn't bring himself to close his eyes and rest. Maybe it was a bad habit, made out of every sleepless night that he ever had in this house. Maybe it was a reflex, so he didn't feel so bad when it kept him up. Maybe he was over thinking things.

Rolling over on his side, he sighed slightly and tried to get comfortable. He should be happy, he knew. He should be at peace, even if just for one fucking night. He knew that he should- he just couldn't be. Not here. Not now…

Not alone.

He picked up his phone again and fiddled with it. Berwald was probably sleeping by now, and it would be quite rude to wake him. It was Christmas Eve, after all- well, Christmas at this point- and he was sure that his boyfriend had things to do and places to be tomorrow… but somehow it didn't stop him from texting him.

To: Berwald~

You awake?

Sent: 1:07 am

One minute passed. And then two. And then he started to think that maybe he was being a little unreasonable trying to get a hold of him at this hour when his phone lit up.

From: Berwald~

Ja. How are you?

Received: 1:10 am

With a strange feeling of surprise and relief he composed a reply.

To: Berwald~

I couldn't sleep, I'm sorry. I know we already said goodnights, but I just haven't even been able to close my eyes. I miss you.

Sent: 1:12 am

From: Berwald~

I miss you too. Are your parents asleep?

Received: 1:13 am

To: Berwald~

Yeah. They'll stay that way if I talk quietly enough.

Sent: 1:14 am

A moment later Tino found his phone lighting up with his boyfriend's call, and he picked up quickly.

"Hei." He whispered, smiling softly.

"Hej." Berwald responded, voice also hushed. "Ya 'kay?" He asked.

Tino nodded, realized his boyfriend couldn't see him, and then responded. "Yes. I was just… I don't know. Up too late, thinking too hard about things, not sleeping enough."

If the Finnish teen could have seen the other's face, he would have seen gentle concern in his features. "Ahm sorry."

"For what?" Tino asked, gently.

"Fer troublin' ya'." He responded. He felt that he really should have just kept his mouth shut, or at least waited until after break to drop that whole 'hey, I've kind of been having dirty fantasies of you as my wife' thing on him.

"What do you-" Tino started, and then stopped when he realized what he meant. "Oh… oh."

"About the whole… ya' know."

"Ber, really, that's not a problem."

"Ja it is- ahm imposing."

"No you're not," Tino argued. "It's not imposing to share what's been on your mind. After all- how am I supposed to know what you need if you never tell me?" He asked. Maybe that applied more to himself than to Berwald, but it was far fucking easier to tell someone that you liked calling them wife than it was to tell someone that you wanted them to choke you.

Berwald thought for a moment. "…Ya' sure ya' aren't…" He trailed off, unsure of what to call it. Mad? Upset? Disgusted that your boyfriend thinks such creepy things?

"I am not upset, Berwald. I wasn't sure what to respond, but I'm definitely not upset." He assured. "And really. If that's what you need, then… please, have it. It's alright." He smiled softly as he finally made his decision to just go ahead and do it, regretting that one could only communicate so much over the phone.

Tino… just gave him permission to fulfill that fantasy. "Ah love you." Berwald responded immediately after he processed it, desperately wishing that he could hold his lover.

"I love you too, baby." Tino responded with a soft giggle. "Hey… just talk to me. I don't really want to go yet." He added.

And so, liberated from a sort of a strange weight that had been hanging over them, they talked. They talked about nothing in particular; they just talked to hear each other speak. They talked long hours, until the sun started to stain the very bottom of the sky and both of them knew that they would only be getting a few hours of sleep at best.

And finally, though shaky and struggling to rearrange himself for sleep, Tino found himself feeling at peace.

On New Year's Eve, the airport traffic was still surprisingly steady.

Tino sat on his suitcase in front of the window, watching the lights from the near-by city celebrations in the distance and waiting for Berwald's flight to come in. The display on his cell-phone read eleven thirty eight, and the TV broadcast behind him went on about how it was almost the end of the year.

Never once had he been kissed on New Year's before, and he wondered if this year would be any exception. Berwald's flight was due eleven forty-five and that meant he would have exactly fifteen minutes to find his boyfriend. Would he mind? The kiss was a tradition- one that he had never yet been a part of, sure, but one that he wanted to be part of no-less.

He wasn't sure when he zoned out, but he was bought back to reality by an announcement that Berwald's flight number had just landed. Quickly, he got up and scrambled to meet him, hanging onto his bag and trying to make it through the mess of people in front of him. He apologized whenever he managed to collide with someone, but never stopped. Those minutes were ticking by, dammit. He was wasting precious time.

Berwald faced a similar plight as he moved slowly through the mass of people, trying to locate Tino. Luckily, he was at an advantage thanks to his height, though he still somewhat struggled to differentiate among the many blonde heads bobbing in the crowd. Eventually, though, he spotted those familiar violet eyes trying to look over the masses, and started to make his way towards them.

Looking around slightly frantically, Tino tried to spot his lover. Dammit! Wasn't his height supposed to make it even a little easier? He almost screamed when he felt someone grab his arm, but turned and realized that it was Berwald- luck was with him that night.

"Berwald!" He smiled, hugging him tightly

Berwald pulled him closer and rubbed his back, breathing him in. They may have stayed like that longer if it weren't for the sudden sound of a countdown coming from a near-by T.V.

Fifty-seven, fifty-six, fifty-five…

Tino looked up at the Swedish teen, smiling softly.

"Hei." He smiled.

"Hej." His lover replied.

Forty-five, forty-four, forty-three…

"So, um, it's almost New Year's…" The Finn started awkwardly.

Thirty-two, thirty-one, thirty…

"Ja." The Swede responded.

"And ah, well there's that tradition and stuff… The one about the kiss…"

Fourteen, thirteen, twelve…

Berwald needed no more prompting. He took Tino's chin in his hand and met his eyes, tilted his head and leaned in…

Three, two, one…

And finally, the two celebrated their first New Year's kiss in the middle of the terminal; people swimming around them that could never understand the sheer beauty of the moment.

Author's Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Yes, here is the first installment of the new year! Happy Holidays, too, I didn't quite make it in time for those but there's some Christmas-y stuff in there. I hope that everyone can enjoy- I always do whatever I can.

Please be gentle, and comments may possibly make me smile. A lot.