The Sheet Hits the Fan

Finland gets irritated over the laundry. A fight ensues, amongst other things.

I don't own Hetalia.


The whole thing started on Saturday.

Finland was hanging the laundry because it was an absolutely beautiful morning. Perhaps the two seem incompatible, but Finland was very excited because the warmth might dry his linens faster.

Finland wasn't a fan of drying towels outdoors—they ended up feeling rather crunchy. He preferred them soft and snuggly. Sweden, on the other hand, did not care about towel softness. So Finland typically just aired the towels out in the summer and used the dryer option in the winter.

Saturday was a sheet-cleaning day, as Denmark and Norway had stayed over earlier in the week. Iceland had, too, but Finland was washing the sheets because Denmark and Norway probably… um… did dirty things.

Finland blushed at the thought. He shouldn't automatically assume the worst of Norway like that, but Denmark was pretty persuasive in his own crazy way.

Finland had decided to clean his and Sweden's sheets, too. Why not? Crisp sheets were so… fresh!

Finland hauled his full basket out the back door of the house, Hanatamago bouncing around his heels.

He approached the laundry line and dropped the basket with a huff. Wet sheets were kind of heavy.

Hanatamago was easily distracted by a butterfly. Finland picked up the first sheet, shook it out, and used two clothespins to attach it to the line.

He continued this for a few minutes—three beds, six sheets—until finally he reached the last one.

Finland shook it out, humming a quiet melody to himself.

And then he stopped.

There, in his Egyptian cotton bed linens—the 1500 thread count ones that had taken forever to arrive when he ordered them—were shred marks.

Finland could not believe his eyes.

Shred marks. Shred marks. It looked like someone had taken a dull pair of scissors to his beloved, 2550 SEK sheets!

2550 SEK! And he'd need a new set now. Finland sighed sadly. Maybe the company still had his color in stock, and he'd only need to order a fitted sheet?

That was big dreaming. Besides, Finland didn't think you could order just the fitted sheet.

Finland was saddened by the shred marks. And then he got irritated. Who else shared his bed? Sweden. How the hell had Sweden managed to put shred marks through his sheet?

Wet sheet in his arms, he marched back to the house.

"Sweden!"

The taller man poked his head around the corner, peeking into the kitchen to meet his wife's gaze.

"Mm?"

"What happened to my sheet?" Finland asked, displaying the shred marks for the world to see. "What is this?"

"Holes."

"Yes, I know." Finland was getting angry. "How did they get there?"

"Toenails?"

And Finland froze. "…what?"

Sweden shrugged.

"You're telling me that your toenails ripped holes through my sheets?" Finland shrieked.

"Looks like it." Sweden said.

"Cut them!"

"Mm?"

"Your toenails! Cut them!"

"They're cut." Sweden replied.

"Not good enough!" Finland ranted. "If they can shred sheets, they are too long and sharp and pointy!"

"They're fine." Sweden replied.

"They are not fine—"

"They're fine." Sweden cut in, looking as his wife with a frown. "Just sheets."

"2550 Kroner sheets!"

"…how much for sheets?"

"Um," Finland said, "2550 Kroner?"

Sweden's eyebrows furrowed. "Too much."

"It is not. They're very nice sheets—"

"They can't take toenails?"

"Your toenails are talons!"

"Are not. 2550 for bed sheets?"

"Yes! They are very nice sheets! I never heard you complain—"

"Am now. 2550 is too much for bed linen."

"Is not. Your nails are too long."

"They are not."

"Maybe you should cut them every day!"

"You're being ridiculous."

"I am not! You put holes in my sheets! Regardless of the price, these are holes, Sweden!"

"Just holes. Just patch 'em up."

"No! I'll just buy new ones..."

"No. That's too expensive. Just go to IKEA and—"

"IKEA sheets suck."

"…Take. That. Back."

"I won't! The thread count is horrendously low and they are itchy, scratchy, and cheap."

"They're affordable—"

"Cheap!"

"Affordable."

"Cheap! They rip if you even touch them. These holes, though, these were made by talons."

"I don't have talons."

"Cut your nails."

"No."

"Cut them."

"No!"

"Then no sex!" Finland spun on his heel and marched back out the door. He approached his laundry line angrily.

He hung the ripped sheet anyway.


The rest of Saturday was awkward.

Sweden and Finland weren't speaking to each other. They weren't even trying.

Hanatamago could sense something was off. Sealand was a bit worried.

"Mama?"

"Don't call me that, Peter. What is it?"

"Why aren't you and Papa talking?"

Sweden looked up from where he was peeling potatoes, and glanced across the room to meet Finland's gaze. Which was narrowed.

"We had an argument, Sealand. Your Papa has talon toenails."

"I don't."

"You do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Don't."

Sealand watched the interaction with growing amusement. "Wait, so you guys aren't talking because of Papa's toenails? That's so stupid!"

"It isn't." Both his parents protested in unison, and then they spun around to continue what they were doing.

Sealand giggled and decided to go call Uncle Denmark. He'd think it was funny, too!


"Uncle Denmark, guess what?"

"Sealand! How are you, kiddo? What's up?"

"Mama and Papa aren't speaking to one another!" Sealand laughed.

"Oh, really?" Denmark said. "And why would that be?"

"Toenails!" Sealand yelled. "Papa's toenails are too long and Mama won't talk to him until he cuts them!"


Finland and Sweden glared at each other across the dinner table. Sealand was happily munching away and passing all the food he didn't like down to Hanatamago. His Mama and Papa were too distracted by their glare war to notice.

After dinner, Finland did the dishes while Sweden got Sealand ready for bed.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"If Mama kicks you out, are you gonna hafta sleep on the couch?"

"He won't."

How wrong Sweden was.

"Open the door, Finland."

"Make me."

"This is ridiculous, Fin. I'm sorry about your sheets."

"Good."

"But my nails aren't talons."

"Might as well be."

"Let me in."

"I told you, you aren't sleeping with me."

"Can I get my stuff?"

"I put it in the hall."

"Fin…"

"Cut your damn toenails."


The next day was Sunday. Sealand normally went to visit his brother on Sundays, and this particular Sunday was no different.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Sealand." Finland dropped a quick kiss on his son's forehead, and Sweden ruffled the boy's hair.

"Bye Mama, bye Papa!"

"Bye, sweetheart! And I'm not your mama!"

As soon as Sealand left, Sweden slammed Finland against the front door.

"S-Sve…?"

"I've been very patient with you." Sweden whispered under his breath. "But I do not have talon toenails."

"You do too." Finland whispered back defiantly.

Sweden rolled his eyes as he gazed down at his wife. Finland's arms were above his head, pinned by Sweden's own hand around his wrists.

Sweden let his hand run down the side of Finland's body. Finland tried to knee Sweden in the groin, but Sweden slammed his own hips against Finland's body before he had a chance.

Sweden gazed down into Finland's rebellious eyes, watching them harden.

"Is that how we're going to play today?" Sweden whispered in Finland's ear before he dropped his lips to Finland's neck.

"Let go of me." Finland bit out.

"Make me." Sweden replied, licking a possessive stripe up the side of Finland's cheek.

"Ugh." Finland wiggled in Sweden's grip. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" Sweden rolled his hips against Finland's, drawing a moan from the man he had at his mercy.

"Don't touch me." Finland said breathily.

Sweden's hand slid up Finland's shirt. His index finger swirled around Finland's right areola twice, then stroked upward to flick the nipple.

Finland struggled against Sweden's grip. "Stop it." He protested.

Sweden pushed up Finland's shirt so his right nipple was showing. He switched hands, now pinning Finland with his left hand. His right arm slid underneath Finland's shirt to tease his left nipple, while Sweden's mouth licked the right.

"S-Sve…!"

Sweden didn't stop. His right hand slid down and unfasten Finland's jean button, and then he pulled the zipper down with his teeth.

"Fuck." Finland sighed.

Sweden had a predicament. He wanted to keep Finland's hands restrained, but he also wanted to use both hands.

He quickly stood to his full height, surprising Finland, and swung the man over his shoulder.

Sweden carried Finland into their bedroom and dropped the smaller nation on the bed. He turned and slammed the door shut.

Finland was sitting on the bed, limbs awkward from where Sweden had dropped him. When he heard the door slam, Finland's mind was jolted back into reality.

Sweden saw Finland move from the corner of his eye.

"Don't you—"

Finland tackled Sweden to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Sweden immediately grabbed one of Finland's hands—the one that was flying towards his face, clenched in a fist—and twisted it around.

Finland hissed in pain and his foot shot up and caught Sweden's chin. The two nations sat back, huffing and glaring at one another, before Finland made another move.

The smaller nation sent another punch, which Sweden easily caught. The other hand came flying, and Sweden had both of Finland's hands caught in his own.

"Bastard." Finland hissed.

"Bitch." Swede shot back, a slight smile on his lips.

"Fucking—" Finland jerked his hands, trying to pull away. It was useless. Sweden had them clenched tightly. "Let go."

"No." Sweden pushed forward, knocking Finland back to the floor. Sweden pinned Finland to the floor, spreading his knees apart to straddle Finland's legs.

Finland's knee shot up, and this time it was too quick to counter.

"Fuck!" Sweden whined, eyeing Finland dangerously. Finland overturned Sweden in his moment of weakness, and sat in his stomach instead of straddling his legs.

Finland's hands were still caught in Sweden's own, though, no matter how hard he tugged.

"Let me go." Finland yanked his arms back, but Sweden refused to release them.

"Make me, bitch."

"Fuck—no you didn't." Finland wrenched his body forward, but had forgotten his pants were tugged down.

Finland's crotch landed in Sweden face, and Sweden took advantage of the situation.

He mouthed Finland's clothed erection, Finland's cussing encouraging him. He licked and kissed what he knew was hard cock.

"Fuck!" Finland moaned. "Fuck, not allowed."

Sweden released Finland's hands, and they immediately went down to pull out his dick.

"Suck it." The smaller man demanded. "Now."

Sweden did, and Finland fucked Sweden's face.

He lowered his hips, shoving his cock into Sweden's mouth. Sweden allowed Finland to set the pace, swallowing when he could and sucking when he should.

"Oh, fuck… Sve…" Finland growled, looking down into Sweden's eyes. "Fuck."

Sweden hummed around Finland's cock, causing Finland to groan.

Finland pulled out of Sweden's mouth, scooting back to sit in Sweden's lap. Sweden sat up and caught Finland's lips in a kiss.

The two were entangled for a few moments, making out furiously. Finland's hands wound through Sweden's hair, clenching tight and tugging down. His elbows rested on Sweden's shoulders.

Sweden's hands were much more amorous, sliding down to grope Finland's ass. Sweden pulled Finland closer so their torsos were pressed flesh to flesh. He eventually pulled back from Finland's mouth, leaving a trail of spit dangling between them that snapped and fell back to Finland's chin. One hand slid up Finland's torso and rested against his lips.

"Suck them." Sweden demanded, jabbing two fingers into Finland's mouth.

Finland's eyes glazed in irritation and he clenched his teeth in protest. Sweden chuckled darkly at Finland's behavior. He leaned forward, breathe coming in hot pants against Finland's neck.

"Bitch." He hissed against Finland's skin. "You're going to suck my fingers until their dripping because I'm going to shove them up your ass. And after I do that, I'm going to shove my cock up your ass. So you'd better fucking suck the fingers."

Finland trembled in Sweden's arms and obediently opened his mouth to suck on Sweden's fingers.

Sweden smirked at his wife. "Good boy."

Finland glared at Sweden. "Notph a phet." He mumbled.

"You're a pet if I say you are." Sweden replied. He let Finland suck on his fingers for a minute or two, then pulled them abruptly from Finland's mouth.

Finland blinked at him, spit dripping from his chin. Sweden couldn't resist; he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Finland's own. The two nations sat back, stripped off their clothes, and tossed them towards the hamper.

"D'you want lube?" Sweden asked, forehead pressed to Finland's. "And you know the safe word—"

"Yes, Sve." Finland blushed. "I know the safe word. A-And no lube, okay? Just, lots of stretching?"

"Of course. Now suck my dick, bitch."

Finland laughed and repositioned his body, taking Sweden's cock into his mouth.

Sweden, on the other hand, was greeted with the delicious sight of Finland's ass sticking up in the air. He spanked it once, twice—each time getting a squeak from around his dick.

He grabbed each cheek with a hand and squeezed, then massaged Finland's ass by fondling the muscles. Finland moaned, pressing back into Sweden's hands wantonly.

He allowed his slickened hand to run teasingly along Finland's intergluteal cleft. Finland twitched underneath his palm, and Sweden decided to increase the torment. He pressed one finger inside of Finland, pushing through the resisting sphincters and stretching the willing anus. Finland sighed, an effective attempt to relax his body. Sweden swiftly added a second finger, swirling and opening his fingers.

Finland moved his head to Sweden's thigh, one hand wrapped around Sweden's cock and the other pressed against the floor for stability.

"God, Sve. More."

Sweden added another finger and looked down at Finland questioningly. The smaller man nodded.

Sweden pulled his fingers out and smacked Finland across the ass.

"Turn around." Finland obeyed, turning and kneeling on all fours so his ass faced Sweden.

Sweden smacked Finland one more time, for good measure, before aligning himself and thrusting inside.

"Holy fuck." Finland cried. "A little warning?"

"Shut up." Sweden pulled back and thrust in a little harder. "You knew it was coming… bitch."


"Oh man, Sve." Finland was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Sweden was next to him and resting on his elbow, raking his fingers through ash-blond hair and looking very smug.

"Good?"

"You know it was good. You were there."

Sweden leaned over and kissed Finland. When he pulled back, he smirked.

"Oh, Sve, oh yes! Right there!"

Finland blushed. "Stop that!"

Sweden chuckled and continued to molest Finland's hair. "I love you."

Finland sighed happily. "I love you, too. But dear?"

"Yes?"

"You still need to cut your toenails. I mean, look at them!"

The two Nordics eyed Sweden's toenails, one with disgust and one with indifference.

"If it'd make you happy, wife."

"It would. It would indeed."


A/N: First smut scene and it was embarrassing to write. Spain would have cooed over how cute I looked as a tomato. Fortunately I got over it.