When I Get Home
Title: When I Get Home
Author/Artist: WHOAAAHHH TABLE CHALLENGE COMPLEETEEED. I will also quit naming the fics after Beatles songs - which was another challenge I took on to go with the table challenge - but seriously it has to stahp.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Finland
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: The thought that gets you through working until your back breaks.
When I Get Home
Shhp-WHUMP. Shhhp-WHUMP.
Finland straightened his back little by little. Every move reminded him of a new muscle group that was unhappy at the way he was treating them. He was not exactly young anymore - but well, it could not be helped. He picked up the shovel again, thrust it in the pile of snow the snow plough had left right in front of his drive way, muttered a curse and threw it on the mounds growing on both sides of his house like some kind of a child's attempt at snow towers. This year there was snow aplenty.
He stopped again to brush off sweat that was rolling down the sides of his nose. Wet snow sure was heavy! The work was now almost done, he could finish it and he damn well should because there would be frost soon and if these piles were to ice over...
He thought longingly of a mug of hot glögi. That would certainly do some magic now. Made with blackberry juice, or perhaps red wine, heated with two sticks of cinnamon, a teaspoonful of cardamom, some cloves. Then a good helping of vodka flavoured with ginger. Yes, that would be in order right after the work was done.
One more stretch, the thought to himself. Soon there'd be a warm shower and some glögi. Sighing, Finland continued.
Author/Artist: WHOAAAHHH TABLE CHALLENGE COMPLEETEEED. I will also quit naming the fics after Beatles songs - which was another challenge I took on to go with the table challenge - but seriously it has to stahp.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Finland
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: The thought that gets you through working until your back breaks.
When I Get Home
Shhp-WHUMP. Shhhp-WHUMP.
Finland straightened his back little by little. Every move reminded him of a new muscle group that was unhappy at the way he was treating them. He was not exactly young anymore - but well, it could not be helped. He picked up the shovel again, thrust it in the pile of snow the snow plough had left right in front of his drive way, muttered a curse and threw it on the mounds growing on both sides of his house like some kind of a child's attempt at snow towers. This year there was snow aplenty.
He stopped again to brush off sweat that was rolling down the sides of his nose. Wet snow sure was heavy! The work was now almost done, he could finish it and he damn well should because there would be frost soon and if these piles were to ice over...
He thought longingly of a mug of hot glögi. That would certainly do some magic now. Made with blackberry juice, or perhaps red wine, heated with two sticks of cinnamon, a teaspoonful of cardamom, some cloves. Then a good helping of vodka flavoured with ginger. Yes, that would be in order right after the work was done.
One more stretch, the thought to himself. Soon there'd be a warm shower and some glögi. Sighing, Finland continued.