Sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Uni hit and I have a lot of other stories to update, but I'd like to keep updates for this more consistent from now on, and not just because this is the fic people actually read.

Honestly, I don't think this fic is gonna be amazingly long. Like, more than twenty chapters, but I doubt I'll reach thirty. And yes that's short for me! I'll get it done, though. Bully me if I don't.

Oh, and I went back and changed Belgium's name to Isabel because that's the name I use for her now.

"Oh, what a lovely day!" Tino was perfectly happy to converse with his dog in public, and did so freely as he strode down the street, ignoring the stares and glares for daring to disturb the peace, with pointless rambling to an animal of all things. What did he care? Kukkamuna was a very good listener. "I hope you have fun today," he just continued, "but try not to make a mess of Uncle Berwald's house - we want to stay on his good side."

She yapped in response, and not one of those sarcastic yaps she give before taking a dump on the hall floor the moment they came in from their walkies despite having a whole hour in the park to do so, but a genuine yap like she would actually behave. Maybe she knew what was at stake here? Maybe she wanted Berwald to be her new Papa?

It was really a lovely day, though: the sun shone in its crisp autumn beauty and there was no sweltering heat to leave him with sunburn within five minutes. That was always nice. Unfortunately though, it was a little too early in the year for those nice crunchy fallen leaves to tread on, and Christmas was still four months away. Four whole months and yet there was so little time to prepare. What was he like? Eduard could probably answer that for him. The police also had a file to describe what he was like too.

For some reason, even though Berwald was in his twenties and probably couldn't afford a house, being the lead singer of an unknown band, Tino was certain the guy lived in one. A neat house with freshly cut grass and white shutters. Detached or semi-detached. With an enormous kitchen, so big it had one of those islands with the shiny, marble surfaces. He gasped at the concept. They could boink on the island!

Except he didn't have a house! Berwald had explicitly told him he shared a flat with Gunner, and sometimes Tolli would sleep on the sofa if he wanted to run away but not permanently and was just trying to make a point. The other three band members could also often be found practising or passed out in various rooms. Tino thought the noise and bustle sounded fun, but Berwald had admitted he'd prefer a bit of quiet now and again. And a tidy flat, for once.

He'd even mentioned he was a little jealous of Tino living alone; he could keep his flat neat and sleep in peace.

Oh sweet, innocent Berwald.

He did eventually find the block of flats, still disappointed in how normal it was. Regular flats with little white balconies. Something told him the one dripping with hanging baskets and beer can decorations was where he'd end up, and it really was a shame it wasn't possible to make a bet with himself because he'd obviously win. And lose.

But if he started arguing with himself he'd just be proving that judge in Copenhagen right, so instead, Tino rang the doorbell. The decorations were rather creative, cans cut into lanterns hung up on strings. He waved pleasantly to an old couple as he waited, the two shuffling along, hand-in-hand, smiling at him and each other. It gave him hope, seeing old people happily in love after all that time, after having to live with someone and their habits and farts and smelly socks for so long. Maybe he'd have that one day. With Berwald. Or Tony Kakko. Or any member of Sabaton.

But preferably Berwald.

Speaking of which, he looked beautiful as he answered the door. Maybe Berwald had an endless supply of turtleneck jumpers, because he was wearing one yet again, a deep blue beauty. Tino had never seen him in sweats before, though.

"Hey, Berry," he greeted, "look, I'm on-time and everything!"

"Didn't doubt ya," he gave one of his beautiful smiles. Kukkamuna yapped a hello and jumped up at his leg.

"You'd be surprised how many people do." He smiled back as he was led into the hall. "You know, based on a mountain of evidence." Berwald didn't reply, but Tino swore he saw the hint of an amused smile as he closed the door. "Sorry I don't have a pie to give you," he said as they climbed the stairs, "but the last one I made burnt so it's probably for the best."

Berwald definitely smiled at that.

"Then there was the chocolate mousse that was more like chocolate milk," he continued, since his lack of cooking was so fucking hilarious to most people, "and all those crispy black pizzas. And that soup I burnt."

"How-"

"I forgot it was on the stove and all the water evaporated out of it. All I was left was this clay-like thing. Like, some gross paste."

"Y'tasted it?"

"I was a broke student."

Berwald patted his shoulder, letting him into a flat that had recently - but hurriedly - been cleaned. Tino was glad he wasn't the only one trying to make an effort. He could see what touches were Berwald's and what were Gunner's, or at least he guessed the shelf of carefully put together lego sets of various landmarks belonged to the Dane. Not to stereotype, but they probably did. There was also a Death Star model that would've made Eduard weak at the knees. The cookbooks probably belonged to Berwald.

"So which one of you collects boats," he asked, bending down to admire the shelf full of them. He especially liked the little ones in bottles.

"Gunner," said Berwald, taking his coat, "bu' we both collect things."

Tino turned to him with a smile. "Oh? And what do you collect?"

He shrugged. "Books. Swords."

Tino's eyes widened. "That's hot. Really hot. And pretty badass."

Berwald almost smiled at that. "Mm, Gunner 'n me, we dun have a lot've money cause of hobbies. 'N alcohol."

Their job was singing in a band with a total of six fans. And Tino thought he was bad at budgeting.

"Have you considered not buying swords?"

Berwald looked absolutely horrified.

"Or CDs," Tino glanced past him at yet another shelf, "then again, I like a man with a massive CD collection." Did that sound suggestive? Alluring? Or just weird and creepy? Still, what kind of music did Berwald actually listen to? He knew he was being nosy, but Berwald absolutely fascinated him, and since trying to get the guy to talk about himself was like pulling teeth, he might as well snoop while he could. "You don't mind if I have a little peruse, right?" he said with a wink. Berwald shrugged and left him to it, setting about making a pot of coffee.

The first thing Tino noticed was that a sizeable chunk of the CDs had been recently removed, from the top shelf, a band or singer beginning with 'A', he suspected, given that Berwald had alphabetised the collection. He could see some odd choices of music just from a glance, so what was particularly embarrassing about this one band, since he'd taken the time to hide it from him?

He had a Sarek CD, for Christ's sake!

Besides that, there seemed to be every metal band he'd heard, plus a few unfamiliar albums that looked more folk in nature. "Interesting tastes," he commented, picking up a Gloryhammer album.

"S'Gunner's," Berwald mumbled, shuffling up awkwardly next to him.

"Figured." He didn't know if the man was lying, but he could well believe Gunner listened to songs about space wizards and evil unicorns. He and Christopher Bowes gave off the same chaotic energy, now that he thought about it. "I'm guessing he's also the Alestorm and Ninja Sex Party fan. What a man."

"Like 'em too," Berwald mumbled. Tino raised his eyebrows and turned to him with a wicked smile.

"I never took you for a pirate metal fan."

Berwald shrugged. "Grew on me."

Tino would like to grow on him too. He decided not to even wonder what that was supposed to mean. "Where is Gunner, anyway?"

"Adriaan's. Guitar practice."

"I thought Adriaan played bass."

"Big guitar."

Tino smiled.

"Ye can stay for dinner," Berwald mumbled after an uncomfortable silence. Tino just thanked him, deciding not to mention that had been what they'd already decided over the phone. They fell back into awkward silence.

Tino played with his jumper, glancing around for something - anything - he could talk about. He spied a room just past Berwald's arm, door shut. "Oh? What's in there?"

"M'workshop!" Berwald, ever so slightly, puffed out his chest.

"Where you practice singing and… triangle?"

He blushed slightly. "Writing."

Tino perked up at that, bristling excitedly. "Oh, right! Your songs!" Berwald nodded. Right! He forgot the guy was writing original songs for the Screaming Pagans. "Songs you've recorded or are still writing?"

"Both. All stages." He covered his face with a hand. "Lotta crap."

"Would it be okay if I was the judge of what counts as crap?" Tino asked sheepishly, "I mean, after all, we're all our own worst critics. Actually, for me it's Eduard. And this one Norwegian guy who comes on my blog to pick apart everything I write, just because I think Finnish metal is better."

"Vidar?"

"You know what? I think it could be." Tino brushed against his arm ever so lightly. "So, your workshop… if you're okay with that, of course!"

He nodded, "please…"

Though he was bristling with excitement, he waited for Berwald to actually let him in, rather than barge in. He wrote a lot of angry poetry as a teen, and if his parents or cousins had just barged in and read them, he'd… well, he'd have cried and wrote another angry poem about trust. After his dad had finished throwing him into a wall and destroying everything he wrote. anyway, Tino was going to respect what looked like Berwald's private space for private songwriting.

Then, when Berwald tentatively lead him inside, he forgot all that upon spying the name of the first song he saw. And the second.

"'I want to fuck Thor'?" he picked up a scruffy sheet of paper, raising an eyebrow. "'Odin is my daddy'?" Maybe he was in love.

Berwald was definitely blushing this time, and buried his face in his hands. "S'Gunner's songs!"

"Oh! Well, Gunner is a creative genius!" He scrolled down the lyrics, still clearly in their rough stages, but funny nonetheless. He had to laugh at a few lines. "I love them!"

"I wrote them! Gunner can't write shi-heck!"

Tino smiled at him. "Look, I'm not gonna judge you for anything! I know you're a dork; you don't have to impress me. You think I'd judge you for writing something funny and weird? Look at me." He paused. "You were writing a funny song, right?"

Berwald shrugged. "Jus' thought it would be a laugh."

"Mmm, honestly there's no need for boundaries in metal. Go for it! I mean, what's the point in writing metal if it doesn't piss someone off, somewhere?" Berwald smiled ever so slightly at that. Tino smiled back. "Wanna show me some of your other songs?"

He nodded, almost shaking with excitement.

"And anyway," Tino said through a mouthful of potato, "then Érzsebét had to explain to me that Boney M sang the original version of Rasputin, and wasn't a cover band. And I looked like an idiot."

Berwald raised an eyebrow, looking at him judgmentally. It was the same look Eduard gave him, sometimes. Often.

"I'd just heard Turisas's version first!" he insisted, "I don't listen to a lot outside metal! I'm not actually an idiot, I swear!"

"Never said y'were," Berwald waved a hand. "S'cute."

"I'm not cute," Tino mumbled.

"Y'are. Very. It's cute."

He pretended to scowl, but couldn't. He'd just spent an hour or so talking about his various internet fights like some loser, and Berwald thought he was cute? Him? Tino? The guy who corrected people's grammar online despite English being his third language and him not actually knowing the grammar that well? It was just fun to make people mad when he couldn't come up with a decent argument. Sometimes he even deliberately got his grammar corrections wrong, just to make people extra mad. It hadn't all been talk of himself, though! He wasn't that vain, and didn't really like talking about himself and being the centre of attention, it was just that - sometimes - Berwald left him struggling for conversation.

Berwald had talked about his music, and even some of his more serious songs, the more personal ones. It was clear he had a passion for it, and he explained - or tried to anyway - that singing and songwriting let him communicate more easily. That he didn't have to think as much and could actually say how he felt. Ironically, he was having trouble with the song he was writing about the topic. Tino understood.

"You think I'm cute?" he asked sincerely. Berwald shrugged. "Well I think you're very cute too. Like a teddy bear."

Berwald smiled and mumbled something into the collar of his turtleneck. Tino smiled and took his hand, squeezing it gently. They looked into each other's eyes a little too long, and Berwald quickly looked away.

"S'late," he mumbled, "why not stay t'night?"

Tino blinked. "Uh, sure, yeah! Grounds sate- er, sounds great!"

"I'd offer you Gunner's bed but," Berwald pulled a face, "wouldn't touch it. Can't do that t'ya."

"Wouldn't he be coming back at some point anyway?"

Berwald shook his head. "Nn. Staying over at Adriaan's. Got the place t' ourselves."

To themselves, huh?

"Me and Kukkamuna would really appreciate it," he said, "she loves you." He… okay it was a little early to be seriously calling it love, but he did like the guy. A lot. And he wanted to spend more time with him. But what did Berwald mean by him staying the night? Were they gonna do… stuff? All jokes aside, he found himself thinking it was maybe a little too soon. He wasn't even sure they were dating, though that would be one hell of a confirmation.

"I- I like you too," he added. "You're sweet. And good."

Berwald smiled behind his hand, wiggling ever so slightly, like a happy worm. "Got a tent," he mumbled with a shrug, "could set it up in here. Be fun."

"Ooh! I like camping! Especially when it's all cold and rainy outside and you have to snuggle up for warmth, especially if you get snowed in like 'hey, might as well make the best of it!'" People usually looked at him like he was mad when he said that, but he couldn't help it. Maybe it was some ancient mammal instinct that made him want to burrow somewhere warm and safe, or maybe he liked having an excuse to cling to someone like a lamprey. He wasn't one for closeness or even being touched, but, on occasion, he liked to snuggle. Sometimes he just needed a bit of warmth, but it had to be with someone special. His cousins, maybe Vidar if either of them were feeling drunk and emotional, and maybe - quite possibly - Berwald. Anyone else, and he'd probably retreat into his own skeleton.

"Sounds cosy," Berwald agreed. He actually agreed with him on that?

"And you?" he tried - Berwald clearly liked camping, so maybe it would be a topic he actually talked about. Actually, that was unfair. He apparently loved talking about his work, and his favourite bands. And sword collecting. He didn't think he'd ever been more turned on than when Berwald had showed off all the ornate swords hanging in his room. "What's your favourite part about camping?"

"Pitching a tent by a lake," he shrugged, "watching the sun rise o'er the water, sitting with a coffee and some pastries." He smiled wistfully, resting his chin on a hand. "With a special someone. Romantic."

Tino nodded. "Yeah, romantic…"

Berwald shook himself slightly and stood up, presumably to get the tent. He paused at the window behind Tino and chuckled. When Tino looked around, he saw that it was pouring rain. "Cosy weather!" said Berwald excitedly.

"Yes! Perfect for staying over," Tino grinned, "and snuggling up with you."

He hated the rain, so was pretty glad he and Kukkamuna could stay over. If you were going to have 'bad' weather, you might as well make it snow. Snow was fun and crunchy and the perfect temperature to lie in. Rain just got you wet and cancelled plans.

Actually, he did love cancelling plans, a lot of the time. And rain wasn't so bad when he was inside and warm. It did make a comforting sound.

Berwald blushed and dipped into his bedroom, returning with a tent bag and Kukkamuna, now awake from her nap on his pillow. He smiled as the tiny dog ran around him, jumping up excitedly. He'd never seen her take to someone so quickly before. Berwald loved her too, that much was clear; he smiled so freely around Kukkamuna, like it was impossible to hide anything from her, least of all his adoration. Tino wasn't in love yet, but he was as close to it as a person could get.

"Want me to help with that?" he asked. Berwald shrugged. So a 'yes' then?

Tino jumped up and, after standing around awkwardly awaiting instructions, began feeding poles through their respective holes. He wasn't that good at teamwork, but they got the thing set up without wanting to kill each other.

"Hey," he began as Berwald arranged a duvet and pillows inside the little two-man tent, "wanna hear something funny?"

"Mm."

"About what I said earlier, how I only really listen to metal bands and keep thinking all their songs are the original. Around the same time I first started thinking about writing a metal blog, I made an angry post on some forum complaining about Britney Spears ripping off Children of Bodom's song, 'Oops I did it again'."

Berwald's mouth twitched upwards.

"And you know the internet, they can always let a mistake go," he had to laugh at himself, "it did teach me to always research before I write, though."

Berwald was smiling at that, collecting soft blankets from around the room to add to their little nest.

"And don't even get me started on the time I, in a room full of Swedes, started referring to ABBA as a cover band, doing disco versions of famous metal songs-"

Berwald laughed at that. He actually laughed! The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, hiding his laugh behind his hand. The sound - so gentle and faint, but there nonetheless - warmed Tino's heart and left him clutching his chest, and smiling like a mad idiot. It was the most beautiful sound!

Forget everything, Tino might actually be in love.

They sat in the tent and talked for hours, Kukkamuna between them, dozing happily as the two stroked her fur. Berwald talked about the things he and Gunner got up to at university, including starting the band, whilst Tino talked about growing up in Finland, and all the shenanigans he and his cousins got up to. All throughout, he wondered if Berwald was going to make a move, but he didn't. He wondered if he should make a move himself.

But he didn't.

Eventually, he fell asleep in Berwald arms, and that was enough for him.

I'm… actually a massive fan of Sarek, Gloryhammer, Alestorm and Ninja Sex Party and would recommend all of them. But, honestly, I'll listen to anything, if the 36 chapter fic inspired by Garth Brooks' music is anything to go by. I've long stopped questioning my music tastes and now apparently project them onto APH Denmark. (Actually, Sweden is the Sarek fan here but shh don't embarrass him in front of his crush he's trying to look hard and metal and already failing).

Also every photo of Christopher Bowes is a) beautiful and b) very Denmark.