acatwhowrites: (blank typewriter)
A Cat Who Writes ([personal profile] acatwhowrites) wrote2010-12-30 02:31 am

[Fanfic] Kiss the New Year Hello

Title: Kiss the New Year Hello; one-shot
Fandom: Hetalia
Genre: family, gender-bent, love
Rating: PG
Warning(s): genderbends, lesbian smooch
This is for the [livejournal.com profile] nordic5_xmas Christmas event, written for [livejournal.com profile] fairywine.

THIS IS SO LATE, and I deeply apologise. I signed on for a lot this year, and then things got rather hectic, and the prompts were difficult. I'm not used to genderbending, so it was a bit of a challenge, but I tried.

The prompt I chose was Fem!Sweden and Fem!Finland "ringing in the new year together." I assumed that meant celebrating together...but I ended up making Finland sick. They still spent it together, though!

Kiss the New Year Hello

December 31st seemed to arrive in no time at all. Christmas had passed with much celebration with their family, but New Years was meant for hanging out with friends, pretending it wasn’t freezing outside, and enjoying the fireworks.

However, Finland managed to develop a cold from her hectic Christmas preparations, so she had to spend her new years in bed. She sulked, hiding under her thick comforter while trying to not feel completely sorry for herself. Hanatamago trotted up the short steps, toddling unsteadily over the mound of blankets to burrow under the edge of the blanket and whimper at Finland’s nose.

“Hei, Hana,” Finland croaked. Her throat felt sore, dry and raw. It hurt to swallow, but she knew she should drink the tea Sweden had made for her. Sniffling miserably, she threw the blanket off her head and rolled onto her back, scooting back to sit up against her pillows. The ceramic mug with a painting of the Finnish flag around the body sat on the bedside table. It wasn’t steaming anymore from sitting so long, but it was still warm when she touched the mug.

The tea didn’t hurt when swallowed, Finland was happy to find. The Swedish Bitters gave the tea a bit of a bad taste, but if it would make her feel better, she could deal with it. She finally settled into her pillows and pulled her knees up, slouching comfortably with Hanatamago on her belly.

“Momma?” The door to the bedroom Sweden and Finland shared cracked open, and a bright blue eye peeked inside. Seeing she was awake, Sealand bounded into the room, jumping onto the bed and hopping up beside Finland. He sat on his feet and cocked his head to the side, much like Hanatamago did when curious. “How’re you feeling? Mom’s making soup for you, now.” Even speaking softly, he had a loud voice.

“I’ve been better, Sealand,” Finland whispered. Her voice would be gone before the year ended, she could feel it. Her adopted son reached out an arm and touched her forehead; his forehead wrinkled with concern.

“You’re really hot…”

Finland laughed, holding a hand to her chest when it turned into a cough. “I’m sick, honey. I’m not going to feel normal...”

Sweden nudged the door open with her foot. She had a tray balanced on her hip. A bowl, spoon and napkin were set neatly on it for Finland. The boy nation held his hands out. “I’ll do it!”

After a brief moment of consideration during which her face didn’t change, Sweden carefully handed him the tray. “D’n’t sp’ll,” she mumbled. Hantamago wriggled at her, panting happily and waiting to be held. The wiry nation took her under her forelegs and held her against her shoulder.

“I won’t.” He took the tray and waited for Finland to lower her knees before setting it across her hips. The soup sloshed against the sides but didn’t spill; Sweden had anticipated Sealand’s desire to help and hadn’t filled the bowl too much. “Momma’s tea is almost gone!”

Sweden leaned over Sealand, her long hair falling over her shoulders and onto the bedspread. “S’more?” she asked, taking the empty mug from her wife’s hands. Finland smiled but shook her head. “Se’l’nd,” she said, setting the content Hanatamago on the floor, “go ‘n l’t ‘tam’go out.”

Hantamago wasn’t thrilled about being set on the cold floor, but she barked chased after Sealand when he ran out of the room to get his hat, boots and leash. Alone, Sweden sat beside Finland, who played with the spoon on her tray, not feeling hungry. “I’m sorry I got sick, Ruotsi,” the violet-eyed nation whispered. “I know we normally go out with friends for New Years, but I don’t even feel like going to the sauna. What awful timing. I hate being sick, I just wish…” She fell silent when Sweden’s hand touched her forehead. It was deliciously cool, and it felt so nice on Finland’s fevered face.

“Dun sp’k,” Sweden replied. “J’st feel bett’r, soon. Eat y’r soup.” She fluffed Finland’s bangs and tucked the longer side burns behind her ear.

Finland slouched more, pouting at her tray of soup. She couldn’t smell anything, so it would taste like tofu, but the longer she sulked, the longer she stayed sick.

Picking up the spoon, she stirred the liquid slowly, listening to her wife moving around the kitchen, calmly setting the table for herself and Sealand. She had such a quiet way of doing things, but it was an almost stern silence. Finland remembered being frightened by the imposing blonde nation for quite a while, but over time, Finland managed to warm up to her. She’d been called Sweden’s “wife” for years before she actually openly accepted it. She never regretted it, though, and loved both Sweden and her adopted son, Sealand.

She sighed. She’d been right; the soup had no flavour to her. At least it didn’t irritate her throat though. Coughing a little, she tried speaking but found she could still only whisper. Sighing again, she rolled over to set the tray on the floor. When she rolled back into her pillows, one of her nightshirt buttons had come undone. It happened often; she had an amble bust line. Maybe tomorrow she would just sew the shirt shut but leave the first couple buttons at the neck open.

What a depressing New Years Eve, she thought. With nothing better to do, and sleep not coming to her yet, the sickly nation dug a TV remote from under her pillows and turned the television onto see if the broadcast of the Skansen open-air museum fireworks celebration in Stockholm was counting down, yet.



The next time Finland woke up, the light was out, but the TV was still on. Beside her, Sweden was quietly watching the beginnings of the New Years countdown. The screen cast strange colours onto her glasses, reflecting and preventing Finland from seeing her eyes.

Sweden noticed Finland was awake or felt her stare and looked at her, shifting the ghostly reflection off her glasses and backlighting her hair in blue. “H’w’re y’ feel’n?”

“St…” Finland cleared her throat. “Still sick,” she laughed.

Their door creaked open, and Hanatamago trotted inside, using her little stairs to climb onto the bed. A sleepy Sealand with wild bedhead and half his shirt unbuttoned shuffled in shortly after. “Is it New Years, yet?”

“You should be in bed.”

“But I didn’t want to spend New Years…” he yawned “in bed.”

Finland rolled at Sweden but smiled, scooting away from her and patting the spot between them in invitation. Sweden picked up Hanatamago, who was going to take the warm spot, and set her on her chest. Sealand slowly climbed onto the bed, pausing to rub his eyes before venturing under the blankets Finland held up for him.

Sweden reached over Sealand and touched Finland’s hair, petting it affectionately. “Ruotsi?”

The final countdown began on TV. Ten.

“Y’r re’ly pr’ty.”

Nine.

“That’s a funny thing to say when someone’s sick.” Finland smiled at the nuzzling fingers on her cheek.

Eight.

“’s true.”

Seven.

Sealand slumped against Finland, sleep beginning to claim him once again. “My New Years Resolution…” he yawned…

Six.

“…is to be recognised at my own nation…” If there had been more to his resolution, neither Finland nor Sweden heard it.

Five.

Hanatamago’s leg twitched in her sleep. Sweden gently settled her on Sealand, where she curled against him arm and rested her head on his hand.

Four.

The female nations moved closer, mindful of their sleeping son. Finland stroked Sweden’s face and removed her glasses.

Three.

“I love you, Ruotsi...”

Two.

“H’p’y N’w Y’r.”

One.

Fireworks exploded into the dark sky, erupting into brilliant colours of white and gold and red. Cheers roared from below, exclaiming at the display and screaming celebratory congratulations to their friends and loved ones.

Sealand slept through the final seconds of 2010, dreaming in his cocoon of warmth.

Finland and Sweden ended it with a cold and loving touches. They began 2011 with a kiss.


END