Snow cascaded wildly from the sky, covering the already icy and packed layer of snow from the previous day. So much fell from the clouds at once, so much that Finland had to keep the windshield wipers on his black Volvo going at an insane speed. He was almost home, why did the Swedish winter have to sneak up on him now?

Suddenly, he saw it, the red, wooden farmhouse. It was just as he had left it about an hour ago, only with an even thicker dusting of snow on its roof. The field just behind the house had become whiter as well. Finland spotted four brown blobs in the distance; his reindeer didn't seem fazed by the amount of snow at all.

There was a warm and familiar smell in the air; smoke. Smoke from burning wood. Black smoke belching fourth from the chimney. Smoke from a fire that, dare he say it, his husband had built. Finland sighed; it had felt as if he and Sweden had been married for years, but the weight of the silver band on his finger was something new, and beautiful. Finally, marriage had become possible for same-sex couples like them, well, at least here.

It had been a long time coming, too. The couple had a long and somewhat turbulent history together. For a long time, Finland was not his own, but a territory of the Kingdom of Sweden, and later, against his will, of Russia. His time with Sweden had been frightening at first; the stoic man was impossible to read if you didn't know him, but slowly, Finland discovered his hidden charms. Sweden was not a cruel tyrant but a gentle giant, always looking out for Finland, always respecting and caring for him. Every glance he shot Finland's way was filled with love and secret admiration.

But his time under Sweden's rule wasn't so simple. Though Sweden tried to keep Finland happy, there were times, under the command of his many bosses, that his regime was forced to be repressive. Of course, a nation could not go against these kinds of orders from his boss, no matter how deeply in love he was. Finland remembered the times when Sweden would show up behind him, tears in his eyes, and embrace him. His apologies were profuse, and Finland couldn't help but forgive him, for he too had fallen hopelessly and irreversibly in love.

After pulling the car into the garage, Finland moved towards the door, bags of groceries overtaking his small frame; it was Finland's turn to cook that evening, and it seemed that they were in need of more vegetables to make the lohikeitto* (or laxsoppa, as Sweden preferred to call it).

The door swung open before Finland was able to open it himself. A blonde, bespectacled giant stood before him. Sweden. Beside him was a small white dog, yipping happily; Hanatamago.

"L't me help ya w'th that, Tino." The Swede mumbled with great sincerity and love. Despite his lack of facial expressions, Finland could see the warmth in his husband's eyes, something that took him years to pick up on.

"Thank you Berwald, but I am perfectly capable of carrying this myself." The Finn said, wearing his usual bright smile. Despite his protest, however, the groceries were taken from Finland's arms.

"You really didn't have to do that, Berwald." said Finland. Sweden grunted in response. Finland chuckled, Sweden may have been quiet, but he certainly had a presence. With his arms free, Finland was able to lift Hanatamago into his arms receiving a grateful lick to the face. He stroked the puppy, kissed her nose and let her down. Hanatamago scampered away. There was a bone on the floor and she would not neglect it.

Muscled arms snaked around Finland's waist. He could feel hot breath in his flaxen blond hair. Warmth. Sweden. His husband.

"So, y' have t' go to Helsinki next week?" a gruff yet inquisitive voice asked.

"Well, yes. If I don't go back, my boss will kill me. It will only be for a week or two, though."

"Peter's comin' home Fr'm En'glnd's next week."

"Yes, I know, Berwald. But I have to do this. Our son can wait and so can you."

"'Kay Tino." the warmth was gone, Sweden had let go of him. Finland turned around smiling warmly, slightly apologetically. He placed a hand on the Swede's cheek.

"I know that you will miss me, but I'm a nation too, you know. Besides, I spend most of my time here with you and Peter."

A rare smile graced Sweden's lips. It was strange to Finland, and he would never fully understand why, but Sweden seemed glad about Finland's independence. Finland loved Sweden, but he also valued his life as a nation. He had long wanted to stand as Sweden's equal, and in 1917, he had gotten his wish. Perhaps Sweden too enjoyed this feeling of equality; for he did not have to answer to bosses who only cared about ruling Finland, and could concentrate more on loving him instead.

Both men were running only on instinct now. Gripping Finland's shoulder's gently, Sweden moved closer, crushing their lips together. Finland's arms naturally found themselves around his neck. Dinner could wait. He needed this.

The kiss deepened, and tongues danced sensually with one another. Shallow breaths through the nose prolonged their kiss, which they both never wanted to end.

Sweden broke their kiss and hoisted Finland's small body into his arms. Both knew what would come next, what had always come next, in this nearly wordless exchange of raw emotion. After a brief ride up the stairs, the Finn found himself gently placed onto the soft, queen sized bed that they shared.

"I barely got into the door and now you want to have sex with me?" Finland said playfully, his pale cheeks flushed.

"Dinner c'n wait. I need you, Tino." Sweden replied, a tinge of desperation evident in his somewhat monotonous mumble. The two were flush against each other, both hard, both eager to lose their clothes.

Sweden's lips fell upon Finland's neck. He kissed, nipped and sucked the tender flesh, bringing soft moans fourth from the Finn's throat. Finland's small hands found their way to the buttons of Sweden's white shirt, and the garment was hastily removed.

"Let m' take yers off." Sweden whispered into Finland's collarbone, causing shivers to travel up and down his tiny frame.

"Please," moaned Finland, and he soon found his chest exposed and bare before his husband.

Sweden, his glassed now slightly fogged, seemed to strain to see Finland, but apparently had some success. "Beautiful," he mumbled kissing the tender flesh of Finland's collar bone, chest, and nipples.

"Ah!" Finland moaned and twitched as Sweden's fingers and lips massaged the now pert pink nubs. Sucking. Licking. Rubbing. His hips rose involuntarily into the Swede's.

"Nnn, Tino" normally quiet Sweden was beginning to moan, too and Finland could feel that he was fully hard. He stopped playing with Finland's nipples in favor of a more heated activity. Sweden grinded his hips into the Finn's, moan's tearing from the lips of both men. Their hips moved rapidly and desperately against one another's, hard erections colliding, only held back by sweaty fabric. Lips met once more into a heated and sloppy kiss, interrupted by an occasional passionate whisper or moan.

"Berwald, ah," Finland cried, "If we keep this up, I'm gonna come." The grinding came to a sudden halt. Wordlessly, Swede removed both his pants and boxers. He was free, enormous and hard. Finland panted heavily; thoughts of being filled flushed his skin and made him eager.

Long hands fell upon the Finn's hips, sliding down, tracing the slight curve. Finland, hyper-sensitive from arousal, let out a squeak as his pants and underwear were quickly removed, leaving him at the mercy his lover.

They gazed at each other, fully exposed, unashamed and familiar with one another after all those years. The desire to please one another, to be pleased, and to be held on one another's arms were of paramount importance to both men at this moment. They fell together, rubbing and caressing and worshipping one another, panting and crying out for each other. Both knew that they could wait no longer.

From the nightstand drawer, Sweden pulled a tube of lubricant. Finland was soon hit with the familiar sensation of being prepared. He cried out in a mixture of discomfort and sheer bliss as he was stretched. A slender finger touched it, that one spot deep inside.

"Berwald, there, YES!" his vision had gone white. No pain was present any longer, just the feel of Sweden, carefully readying him for what was to come. Pleasure and want surged through the Finn's veins. He was ready. He was more than ready.

It wasn't long until the lovers, the nation's, the equals, were joined together in the most intimate of human acts.

For a while, nothing else mattered, nothing but the feel of one another. The tightness and heat and friction. Cries, moans, and one another's names were the only sounds that left their lips. The heat built up rapidly. They were close, so close.

"Berwald, I-I can't last much longer. " Finland gasped before release. A wave of white hot pleasure overtook him. He was trembling pleasantly as his husband's moaned and thrusts became more desperate. Finally, with a satisfied grunt, Sweden finished.

Finland sighed and nuzzled closer into Sweden's bare chest. Their left hands were entwined, and two silver rings gleamed in the moonlight spilling from behind the blinds.

I guess I should get cleaned up and cook dinner." Finland sighed, "After all, it is getting late."

"Ng, few more minutes." Sweden grunted, tightening his grip on Finland's hand.

"Well, Berwald, I can't say that I mind." Finland received a soft kiss on the forehead.

Both Sweden and Finland lay in a content silence, tired yet satisfied. The moon was especially bright tonight, it must have been full, for it illuminated Sweden's pale skin just so…

"Tino, I'll miss ya w'n ya go t'Helsinki, but 'm glad yer in charge of yers'lf."

Finland couldn't help but grin. He was happy, he was free, and he was married. Best of all, his husband was happy too. Finland pressed a brief kiss to Sweden's lips. "I'm glad we can be ourselves and be like this, together yet equal."

"Mmmm." was Sweden's soft reply.

*Creamy salmon soup.