fic: dishes duty
May. 28th, 2010 10:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: dishes duty
Series: Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Sweden/Finland
Rating: light R?
Word count:1199
Author's note: kink meme: character A turns on character B by doing the dishes. Fun fact: this was supposed to be PG-13 and didn't comply until it turned R.
Lohikeitto is Salmon soup: http://blog.marinmaistuvat.internesia.fi/blogimages/lohikeitto.jpg
Pappilan hätävara is Finnish trifle (cookie, cream and jam dessert.): http://vuodatus-static.web-effect.net/g/14649/404077.jpg
Mm, they look really yummy.
*
Finland couldn't say that he sympathized with the common housewife complaint of men never doing the dishes. Sweden had tailored their specially clothes for hundreds of years, even when it grew easier to just buy him. Over the years, Finland had realized that Sweden just liked doing things for him. Making his clothes special was no hassle, nor was taking on the cooking and cleaning when national affairs left Finland tired. Over time, he just took them over completely.
Finland had learned to accept the terms of 'wife' and 'husband' – though Sweden acted more like the wife between them. In fact, after all their years together, Sealand was confused by traditional roles. Wasn't the husband supposed to cook and clean like Papa Swede did? Finland didn't have the heart to tell him that it was usually the other way around. (Besides, it was a good education for him, Finland thought. It kept him from rigid stereotypical views, even if watching tv took some explanation that no, the girl in the apron cooking dinner was not the 'husband' like Papa Swede.)
And Finland had to admit he liked it, coming home to the smell of dinner cooking. Sweden did everything possible to make Finland's day unwind better. He'd rub the tension out of his feet, back and shoulders without even being asked.
But Sweden had duties too, in fact just as many duties as Finland had. Finland had to feel a little guilty about taking Sweden for granted, even if Sweden liked being needed and spoiling him. It was never so evident as when later that night, Finland came home to no delicious scent of cooking dinner
Finland lifted the note and read it off. He'd had extra duties, a meeting of some sort he fully expected to run extra long with the way negotiations were going. Finland felt a bit disappointed to not come home to the kind of comfort Sweden usually had ready for him. But he shook it aside and got to work. The first thing he did was turn up the heat. Sweden was very frugal, and always turned it down when they were out, even if it meant coming home to a cold house. Usually, he got home significantly earlier, and have the house all warm and toasty by the time Finland got there. Sweden hadn't even had time to do the dishes today, and they crowded around the sink, waiting to be washed. Finland pushed up his sleeves and filled the sink with soapy water. He couldn't get any cooking done until there were some clean pans, after all. He thought of what he would surprise Sweden with when he got home. It'd been quite some time since he cooked for Sweden. Poor Sverige, he thought. He must really miss my cooking. Now what to make?
Lohikeitto? He tried to remember if he had enough Salmon for the recipe. Maybe Sweden would like some Pappilan hätävara for dessert. Sealand certainly liked it. And of course, he should make some Salmiakki for old time's sake...
In fact, he was so deep in thought, that he didn't hear the door open, nor the removal of warm winter boots and grey button up coats, or even the sound of footsteps behind him. It was only when Sweden touched him on the shoulder that he realized his presence. He flinched in fright at first, but laughed it off once he realized who it was.
"Oh, Sverige," Finland said. "You startled me. His hands were buried in the soapy water, a trace of bubbly soap left on his cheek from when he'd pushed a stray hair away. He rinsed off the glass and put it in the drainer to dry.
"Welcome back! Dinner's not quite ready yet. I was just getting things ready I just wanted to surprise you, is all. You work really hard too..." He smiled up at Sweden.
Throughout this Sweden was staring at him intently, and intensely. He hadn't said a word all this time.
"Uh, Sverige...." Finland said, a bit nervously. Sweden's scary face was something he could never quite get used to, no matter how many hundreds of years he'd known him. "Wh-what is it?"
"D'n't worry, 'eal'nd is pl'y'g 'ith L'tiva."
And before he could respond, Finland found himself being pounced – yes pounced on by Sweden. He was pressed against the counter, their mouths brought together sudden and quick in a rough kiss. Sweden bit at his lips as they kissed, tongues meeting as they ground against each other. Finland put his arms about Sweden's neck and leaned up. He tasted blood in his mouth from where Sweden had bit him, with the kind of passion he usually had to draw out gradually. Even with his legacy of violence, Sweden was always reluctant to be too rough, lest he hurt him.
Oh, they hadn't kissed like that since their pillaging and burning days. His hands left wet, bubbly trails across Sweden's shirt as he undid the buttons, eager for more flesh to be revealed. Sweden's chest was scarred from the old days. Finland's was too, but Sweden's was more noticeable. Maybe it was the times that Sweden had taken hits for him, or simply that it added to his rugged appearance. Finland loved tracing them, feeling each one, like crevasses, fissures and fjords over his muscled chest. Finland reached around for the soap while Sweden kissed at his neck. He almost dropped it in the sink when Sweden nipped him and he moaned. Sweden ground their bodies together. He could feel their erections rubbing together through the fabric, and each touch made him gasp a little more. It was only with some effort that he broke apart, and that was only for necessities.
Finland smiled, mischievous as he handed the soap to Sweden. "You'll have to buy more, you know."
"'s worth 't."
He leaned up and nipped at Sweden's lower lip. Sweden responded by lifting him to the counter and balancing him there, right where he could fall in.
"Don't take too long...I really want you, Sverige," Finland said, his voice growing husky. Sweden growled the back of his throat, but made no other reply. He pressed in two fingers, and moved them in rough scissoring motions. It hurt, but Finland could take it. He always had a high pain threshold, and it was nothing compared to the kinds of axe wounds that left the scars on him from the old days. And then, Sweden removed his fingers and angled them together.
His last coherent thought as Sweden worked their bodies together and he was drowned in the sensations of heart, painpleasure and the masculine, musky odor of Sverige was that he really should do dishes more often.
Series: Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Sweden/Finland
Rating: light R?
Word count:1199
Author's note: kink meme: character A turns on character B by doing the dishes. Fun fact: this was supposed to be PG-13 and didn't comply until it turned R.
Lohikeitto is Salmon soup: http://blog.marinmaistuvat.internesia.fi/blogimages/lohikeitto.jpg
Pappilan hätävara is Finnish trifle (cookie, cream and jam dessert.): http://vuodatus-static.web-effect.net/g/14649/404077.jpg
Mm, they look really yummy.
*
Finland couldn't say that he sympathized with the common housewife complaint of men never doing the dishes. Sweden had tailored their specially clothes for hundreds of years, even when it grew easier to just buy him. Over the years, Finland had realized that Sweden just liked doing things for him. Making his clothes special was no hassle, nor was taking on the cooking and cleaning when national affairs left Finland tired. Over time, he just took them over completely.
Finland had learned to accept the terms of 'wife' and 'husband' – though Sweden acted more like the wife between them. In fact, after all their years together, Sealand was confused by traditional roles. Wasn't the husband supposed to cook and clean like Papa Swede did? Finland didn't have the heart to tell him that it was usually the other way around. (Besides, it was a good education for him, Finland thought. It kept him from rigid stereotypical views, even if watching tv took some explanation that no, the girl in the apron cooking dinner was not the 'husband' like Papa Swede.)
And Finland had to admit he liked it, coming home to the smell of dinner cooking. Sweden did everything possible to make Finland's day unwind better. He'd rub the tension out of his feet, back and shoulders without even being asked.
But Sweden had duties too, in fact just as many duties as Finland had. Finland had to feel a little guilty about taking Sweden for granted, even if Sweden liked being needed and spoiling him. It was never so evident as when later that night, Finland came home to no delicious scent of cooking dinner
Finland lifted the note and read it off. He'd had extra duties, a meeting of some sort he fully expected to run extra long with the way negotiations were going. Finland felt a bit disappointed to not come home to the kind of comfort Sweden usually had ready for him. But he shook it aside and got to work. The first thing he did was turn up the heat. Sweden was very frugal, and always turned it down when they were out, even if it meant coming home to a cold house. Usually, he got home significantly earlier, and have the house all warm and toasty by the time Finland got there. Sweden hadn't even had time to do the dishes today, and they crowded around the sink, waiting to be washed. Finland pushed up his sleeves and filled the sink with soapy water. He couldn't get any cooking done until there were some clean pans, after all. He thought of what he would surprise Sweden with when he got home. It'd been quite some time since he cooked for Sweden. Poor Sverige, he thought. He must really miss my cooking. Now what to make?
Lohikeitto? He tried to remember if he had enough Salmon for the recipe. Maybe Sweden would like some Pappilan hätävara for dessert. Sealand certainly liked it. And of course, he should make some Salmiakki for old time's sake...
In fact, he was so deep in thought, that he didn't hear the door open, nor the removal of warm winter boots and grey button up coats, or even the sound of footsteps behind him. It was only when Sweden touched him on the shoulder that he realized his presence. He flinched in fright at first, but laughed it off once he realized who it was.
"Oh, Sverige," Finland said. "You startled me. His hands were buried in the soapy water, a trace of bubbly soap left on his cheek from when he'd pushed a stray hair away. He rinsed off the glass and put it in the drainer to dry.
"Welcome back! Dinner's not quite ready yet. I was just getting things ready I just wanted to surprise you, is all. You work really hard too..." He smiled up at Sweden.
Throughout this Sweden was staring at him intently, and intensely. He hadn't said a word all this time.
"Uh, Sverige...." Finland said, a bit nervously. Sweden's scary face was something he could never quite get used to, no matter how many hundreds of years he'd known him. "Wh-what is it?"
"D'n't worry, 'eal'nd is pl'y'g 'ith L'tiva."
And before he could respond, Finland found himself being pounced – yes pounced on by Sweden. He was pressed against the counter, their mouths brought together sudden and quick in a rough kiss. Sweden bit at his lips as they kissed, tongues meeting as they ground against each other. Finland put his arms about Sweden's neck and leaned up. He tasted blood in his mouth from where Sweden had bit him, with the kind of passion he usually had to draw out gradually. Even with his legacy of violence, Sweden was always reluctant to be too rough, lest he hurt him.
Oh, they hadn't kissed like that since their pillaging and burning days. His hands left wet, bubbly trails across Sweden's shirt as he undid the buttons, eager for more flesh to be revealed. Sweden's chest was scarred from the old days. Finland's was too, but Sweden's was more noticeable. Maybe it was the times that Sweden had taken hits for him, or simply that it added to his rugged appearance. Finland loved tracing them, feeling each one, like crevasses, fissures and fjords over his muscled chest. Finland reached around for the soap while Sweden kissed at his neck. He almost dropped it in the sink when Sweden nipped him and he moaned. Sweden ground their bodies together. He could feel their erections rubbing together through the fabric, and each touch made him gasp a little more. It was only with some effort that he broke apart, and that was only for necessities.
Finland smiled, mischievous as he handed the soap to Sweden. "You'll have to buy more, you know."
"'s worth 't."
He leaned up and nipped at Sweden's lower lip. Sweden responded by lifting him to the counter and balancing him there, right where he could fall in.
"Don't take too long...I really want you, Sverige," Finland said, his voice growing husky. Sweden growled the back of his throat, but made no other reply. He pressed in two fingers, and moved them in rough scissoring motions. It hurt, but Finland could take it. He always had a high pain threshold, and it was nothing compared to the kinds of axe wounds that left the scars on him from the old days. And then, Sweden removed his fingers and angled them together.
His last coherent thought as Sweden worked their bodies together and he was drowned in the sensations of heart, painpleasure and the masculine, musky odor of Sverige was that he really should do dishes more often.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-09 09:41 pm (UTC)http://community.livejournal.com/amplificathon/643853.html
no subject
Date: 2010-08-10 07:29 am (UTC)