"I feel... awkward in this dress."
Sweden had always been good with his hands. He could make the most sturdy of furniture, though assembly was quite the hassle, but that just Sweden all the more skillful.
Finland laughed a little to ease the tension on his shoulders, "It hard to imagine you used to wear this! How old is it?"
"Couple a' centuries."
There was another hobby many people did not know about--strike that, as mysterious as he was, there were many things people did not know about Berwald-- but this was something he was intensely good at: restoring old (or wait, there was a euphemism there now, wasn't there? "Vintage") but precious clothing. Some dress they kept for memories' sake, while others found good homes at the nations' respective museums.
True, it was an odd hobby, but for as long as Berwald had been taking interest in it, Tino encouraged him. He even went so far as to wear the especially long clothes while Sweden sewed in the new buttons or did additional needle work, for they didn't have a mannequin to pin and and embroider upon (though that would be a good investment; he'd have to look into it for next Christmas). But no matter how many times he had helped, when wearing one of Sweden's older and more festive clothes--and oh, he'd realized, he was still so tall back then as he is now--Finland couldn't help but be somewhat embarrassed.
Not only this, but sometimes the process would be long, and they would both break for some food and to rest their strained legs. Even so, Finland enjoyed the chats they had, and it was a much welcome break from the turbulent rush of everyday.
"Did I tell you what Peter did yesterday? He'd been playing in the the garden and tracked mud all over the house. I'm glad I caught him before he went through the living room," Tino commented as they snacked at the kitchen table. "Who would have thought such little rain made so much mud, I wonder."
The current dress they had chosen to restore was too complex to simply take on and off, and to prevent catching any food from finding its way onto the clothes, Finland had donned a dark hair-cutting cape. He nibbled on his cracker and, sure enough, a few stray crumbs slid of the cape.
"Ate all th' choc'late from th' trail m'x, too," Sweden said solemnly, picking at the scoop cup he had filled with graham mix. He sounded so... dejected. It almost made Finland laugh, but opted to sigh instead.
"I swear, sometimes he can be a complete angel, and then turn into such a little goblin," And Finland did smile at that, their little goblin.
Speaking of the Peter, he had a strong aversion to any type of tailor work. "England is always embroidering something dumb. What a jerk!" However, this never stopped him from sitting on Berwald's lap and helping himself to whatever snacks that were laid out on the table (or later showing off the clothes that "Mum and Papa made" with pride to "Jerk England").
And this was his favorite part of the craft, Tino decided. Not the relief of hard work or a job well done, nor the beautiful works of art restored to their former glory. These were tremendous perks, but not this. This was sitting together with his family, talking and joking, listening to the soft rain pelting the window pane. This was love, pulling itself closer and closer together with every stitch.