Based on the 2007 Christmas special with France and all of the lovely naked people. Oh, it was wonderful.

Upon stepping foot into the quiet house on one of Finland's favorite days, Sweden was not surprised to find it silent. Finland liked to play Santa, and probably wouldn't be back for another few hours. Berwald shrugged off his coat and hung it, turning on the kitchen light and proceeding to make Finland's favorite coffee.

He would spend as much of Finland's favorite holiday with him as he could. He hadn't had the heart to ask Finland to stay with him earlier that night, not being one to deny his wife any pleasure. And Finland certainly did derive pleasure from swathing himself in red and tossing gifts to people from the sky.

While waiting for the machine to make Finland's coffee, the Swede went through the house turning off lights that his hasty beloved had forgotten to. Upon reaching the bedroom, he heard a muffled whine from the other side of the door, and the faint scratching of a paw. He turned the knob. "Hanat'mago? What're y' doin' in--" The small white bundle skittered out of the room, barking as he quickly ran down the hall and out the front doggy door. Sweden watched after him, his brow furrowing in confusion. "T'no shoulda let y' out." He peeked into the room, worried that Hanatamago might have left a present of his own.

His heart paused.

The pale, lithe, and terribly bare body of Tino Väinämöinen lay exposed on the bed, his hands behind his back (tied, Berwald numbly presumed), dozing peacefully. It seemed that the only form of clothing in the vicinity was a cheerful Santa hat that had fallen off his head and now lay on the pillows directly above.

Berwald snapped himself out of his stupor and quickly went to the closet, grabbing a blanket to throw over his sleeping wife. He considered tucking Finland in, but that... Sweden turned, touching his own cheeks. They were so hot. Was he sick? He should probably leave, so that Tino wouldn't catch whatever he had. It was interesting that he hadn't felt feverish until he'd seen Finland's naked body.

"Mm, Su-san?"

Sweden immediately gave Finland his full attention. The Finn blinked and gazed. "What are you doing he-- ohyaa!" he cried, his arms giving a jerk as he realized that he was bound. "A-ah, this... I can explain! You see, France came and tied me up, and then he took some pictures and he left, but don't worry, Hanatamago covered my-"

"Tino." Finland's words were cut short. "Calm down. T'ke a breath. Now sit up 'n' let me untie ya."

Finland did as he was told. Sweden was gentle, unraveling the knot and slipping the rope from Finland's wrists. Tino stretched, giving a tiny squeak when Berwald grabbed his forearms. He examined one wrist, then the other, and Tino, too, noticed the raw red skin.

Sweden didn't get genuinely angry very often-- normally, he just looked like he was. But Tino could feel waves of anger flooding from Berwald, and he began to shiver in fright. Angry-looking Berwald was scary enough, but furious Berwald was absolutely terrifying. He could feel tears of fright springing into his eyes. "S-Su-Su-san, i-it's fine, it doesn't hurt, s-so..."

Berwald released his grip and turned. "Sorry. 'M goin'."

"G-going? Going where?"

"T' France," Sweden rumbled and, fearing another war, Finland threw his arms around the Swede's stomach, pulling him back.

"No, stay here," he said, his voice muffled into Berwald's back. "It's Christmas. Don't plan vengeance on Christmas."

"Wasn't plannin'," Berwald said lowly. "Was gonna follow through."

"I know, Su-san. But stay with me, please?"

Slowly, Finland enticed Sweden down onto the bed beside him. Sweden only needed a few shy words and a blush to have pressed Finland gently back down against his white cotton sheets and coaxed him into a long, progressive kiss. Within moments, Sweden had shucked his shirt, but was unable to fiddle with any other article of clothing, seeing as his hands were preoccupied with Tino's soft upper body. Finland was seconds away from resolving to give Sweden his special Christmas present when he noticed something in the air.

"Berwald... did you make coffee?"

Sweden's darkened eyes suddenly widened and he pushed himself off of Tino and out of the room, dashing down the hall and into the kitchen to shut off the long-overworked machine. He looked worriedly at the glass, knowing that if left on the coffee maker's hot plate for too long it could break at the bottom when removed. He unplugged the cord and shut off the kitchen light, returning to Finland's room.

"'M gonna get you a new coffee maker," he informed his wife, slipping back on top of him. "'S too dang'r's as 'tis. Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't worry about it; I'll let you," he replied, touching Sweden's chest and smiling. "Now... where were we?"

France, having crashed at America's place just as the dawn was rising, glanced over at his discarded cat ears that rested within England's fist, which draped over the edge of the couch as he snored, pondering the previous night's exciting events. There was no bloodbath, in the end, but he had had the pleasure of seeing England sock a frisky America in the shoulder... just as he had previously done to France (but, in France's case, it was in the face. His poor beautiful face.).

Rolling onto his stomach, France sighed and closed his eyes. He had the feeling that there was something he had forgotten... Oh well. Whatever it was, it could wait until he had sent those naked Finland pictures to Sweden in the morning. For some reason, it felt like a good idea to bribe the Swede into favoring him. Drifting off, he numbly wondered why.