After the Withdrawal (Hetalia - SuFin)

After finishing his pint of beer, Mr. Sweden stood from his chair at the dining room table. He took off his glasses, placing them on the table, then unbuttoned his shirt, getting ready for bed. The lit fireplace crackled quietly in the corner of his small cabin which consisted of simply a dining table, a kitchenette, and a bed. For a simple man, this was enough. The winter wind outside the door howled loudly into the night, but it was no louder than Mr. Sweden's drunken companion, Finland. He still slouched at the table, knocking back glass after glass of liquor while sulking.

"Mr. Sve—now everyone thinks us weak," he slurred. His face was flushed from all the alcohol. "This isn't the first time you do this. Why are you so quick to give up?"

He was still angry at him for abandoning the battle against Poland and Lithuania, but Mr. Sweden knew when he was outmatched, and leaving was the only viable option.

"Is not give up," Sweden draped his shirt on the back of his chair. The heat of the fireplace felt good against his bare skin. "Tactical retreat."

In his younger days, he would have gladly dived headfirst into any battle, no matter the odds, sparing no one, and offering the heads of his enemies to the Gods. But times were different now. There were more important things to consider than pleasing old Gods and satiating his appetite for war. But his blood-thirsty little friend was not so eager to run away from a good battle.

Finland burst from his chair, knocking it over and stumbling over his own feet. He was a sloppy drunk.

"Tactical retreat my—" he hiccupped, "arse! We could have fought and— won. I prepared so much for this fight. It's all your fault," he pounded his clenched fists against Mr. Sweden's bare chest, landing sloppy hits, but it did not hurt. It was as if a toddler were striking him, but if Fin really wanted to hurt him, he could. He was powerful considering his small stature and could be even more frighteningly powerful when drunk.

Sweden was used to Finland's dual personality whenever he got drunk. After a few glasses of akvavit and beer, he was meaner and foul-mouthed. He was unpredictable and ready to brawl with anyone over every little thing. Mr. Sweden did not mind though. It was just another side of Fin to admire.

"Sometimes I question why— I ran away with you from Mr. Denmark," Fin stopped pounding but instead used his finger to trace the many dark scars across his torso which Sweden acquired from his past countless battles. "It's so h- hard to understand what you're— thinking, but I never thought you such the c-coward."

Mr. Sweden tried not to let his friend's drunken words bother him. Though he found Fin's intoxicated side cute, it did concern him that drunk words could stem from sober thoughts when it came to Fin calling him a coward as well as other things he did. He hoped his friend did not really think him that way.

"Hey, are you listening to me, Sve?" Fin harshly pinched the man's nipple which snapped him out of his thoughts. He was staring up at Mr. Sweden, and he stared back into the shorter man's glossy violet eyes, searching them intently for the truth.

What do you really think of me?

Then the shorter man surprised him by lifting on his tiptoes and kissed his lips. The kiss surprised Mr. Sweden although this was not the first time Finland had done this when he got too drunk. He would kiss him or grab at his aroused groin. He even stripped down to his underkläder in front of him, making fun of his homosexuality and the fact that he was in love with him.

"I bet you want me, Sve! Since you're a homo, I bet you want to do dirty things to me," he would taunt him with his bare milky skin and lean warrior physique, knowing very well Mr. Sweden wanted him more than food and air. "You're very naughty man!" Fin's mocking laughter would make him feel shame like a little schoolboy who had been caught with his hand in his pants. He would say and do these tormenting things to him, but the very next day he would wake up and not remember a thing.