Dancing Queen

I don't own Hetalia.

Finland sighed, dropping his bag as soon as he walked through the front door and rolling his shoulders back. It'd been a long day, and Finland had escaped earlier than he thought he would. He'd promised Sweden he'd be home by seven-thirty, and it was only just now approaching six. Not that Finland was complaining—it was so good to get away. Maybe Sweden would like a hug.

Finland smiled. Nothing soothed him more than one of Sweden's great big hugs. It was silly, but they were literally "Ber hugs" and Finland loved them tremendously.

Then Finland got an idea—sneak attack bear hugs! He giggled to himself, setting his laptop bag in the office and toeing off his shoes. He slowly peeked out the office door to check the hallway for signs of his lover. He could hear music coming from the kitchen, when most likely meant that Sweden was already get started on dinner. He was a sweetheart like that.

Finland quietly inched his way down the hallway, and snickered when he got closer and could hear the lyrics.

ABBA. He should have known.

Finland leaned over, just barely peeking into the kitchen. He almost fell over.

Sweden was dancing.

Finland sank down to the floor and stuck more of his head in the doorframe, watching his man sashay around the kitchen with a spoon as a pseudo-microphone. Sweden was mouthing the words—Finland wished he was singing, but he'd take what he could get.

Sweden threw in a few disco moves Finland hadn't seen in decades, as well as some pelvic thrusts that he definitely appreciated.

It was sort of sexy, seeing Sweden dance. Because Lord, Sweden could dance. Finland had two left feet, and hardly ever wanted to dance at formal events. Sweden didn't care, of course.

But obviously he had rhythm. Finland should have known. He had rhythm in... other things… so really it wasn't that surprising.

But Sweden was just owning this song. twirling and shaking and Finland didn't know how he made it look so easy.

And then Finland toppled over, head banging against the floor.

"Ow." Finland mumbled, sitting up and pressing a hand to his forehead. Then he felt Sweden's hands move his own away, and a kiss was pressed against his injured head.

"Um, hi Sve."

Sweden stared at him, blushing furiously.

"I got home early." Finland continued, as if nothing had happened. "Can… Can I…" Finland trailed off, unsure of how exactly to phrase it.

Sweden raised a brow, setting his wooden spoon on the counter and avoiding Finland's gaze.

"C-Can I dance with you? I'm not really very good, Sve, which is why I've never done it before and if you like to then you should have told me because I can practice but I just didn't know it was important to you and I'd like to try—mmph." Finland relaxed into Sweden's kiss, throwing his arms around his neck.

"Cause I love you." Finland continued breathlessly when Sweden pulled away. "I really, really love you."

Sweden smiled, a small twitch of the lips, and spun Finland in his arms.

"W-Whoa, Sve…!" Finland grabbed a hold of Sweden's arms.

"Trust me." Sweden replied, one hand wrapping around Finland's back and the other taking Finland's right hand.

Finland placed his left hand on Sweden's shoulder, grinning fondly. "Of course I trust you—SVE, don't dip me without warning!"

Sweden chuckled, twirling Finland again and then pulling him back.

Finland blushed as he felt Sweden's hands gently fondle his bum. He leaned his head against Sweden's chest as the couple rocked back and forth with the beat of the song.

"See, not so hard." Sweden said, gently rubbing Finland's back.

"Um." Finland blushed. "I don't know if 'hard' is something I'm not right now."

Sweden froze, then looked down at Finland with an incredulous flush.

"I'm sorry! It was the pelvic thrusts!"

A/N: Tee hee. *heart heart heart*