[Fanfic] - Anon Meme Drabble #3
Title: Don't Ask Why
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Germany/Sweden
Summary: Eating lunch in comfortable silence.
Warnings: What the hell. None. What? What?!
Sweden wasn’t exactly sure when it had started.
Just that one day, during a break at a world meeting somewhere or another, he had been walking around outside with his bagged lunch and happened upon Germany, placidly sitting on a bench with his lunch. A mutual nod of acknowledgment passed, and Germany scooted over; nothing else was said, verbal or otherwise.
Sweden obliged.
He did the next time, and the next time, and at some point along the way it had become an unspoken - thing - of theirs. At least once during the meeting sessions, they would run into each other on the way in or out the door, in a hallway, something; either Sweden would raise an eyebrow, or Germany would flat-out ask when he wanted to meet, but regardless of how it happened, something was arranged.
They never talked, simply sat, and ate their lunch in mutual silence, and neither of them thought it too strange. It was peaceful, Sweden thought, after spending all morning in the clamor and chaos of the meeting room. Plus, even outside of meetings, he had to deal with Denmark and Finland’s chattering; he assumed Germany felt the same about Prussia and Italy.
He chewed on his apple and mused about that, beside Germany on yet another bench, in yet another country. Neither of them were too good with words, even though Germany led the meetings.
His thoughts were interrupted when Germany’s hand emerged from his peripheral vision, holding out a small doughnut in offering.
Ah, now this, it was a recent development. Sweden took it, not meeting Germany’s eyes, and mumbled a thanks; Germany coughed, shifted, politely responded in turn.
Sweden looked down at the doughnut, and then to his own lunch, trying to pick out something to offer Germany in turn. He frowned. He should have thought of that. Lately they had been bringing a little extra something, trading cuisines, he supposed. Sometimes a word or two (on Sweden’s part) would be spoken, explaining or thanking or offering - Germany, very rarely, offered a few minutes of one-sided conversation about some food he particularly liked. Cake, Sweden remembered, suddenly, Germany liked cake.
He looked down at the doughnut again, and over at Germany...and Germany’s physique. For seemingly having a sweet tooth, he sure was fit.
“Do you...do you not like doughnuts?” Germany asked, out of the blue.
Sweden started and looked at Germany; Germany faced forward and coughed, again.
“It’s not as if you’re obligated to take it,” Germany finally said, glancing at Sweden.
“S’not that,” Sweden mumbled, turning over the pastry in his hands. It looked very small, comparatively.
Germany raised his eyebrows - Sweden thought Germany was probably surprised he was speaking.
“I didn’ bring ya anythin’ - er, of my own,” Sweden explained, blushing at his thoughtlessness.
“You’re not obligated to do that, either,” Germany snorted - and at that Sweden turned around fully to stare at him. Germany gave a questioning stare in return, even as he recoiled, just a little.
“Y’laughed,” Sweden pointed, still staring, and frowning just a bit.
This roused yet another chuckle from Germany, and also a blush. “Yes. I am capable of laughter.” Germany began laughing again; again Sweden stared, unsure of why, or what to do, or if maybe this was a prank...
“What’s so funny?” Sweden asked.
“Ah,” Germany replied, calming down, “it’s not...it isn’t really that funny.”
Well, now Sweden wanted to know. It was worth talking again. “I’d like t’hear.”
Germany made an odd little strangled sound and turned to look at Sweden, unsure. “Er, to be blunt - I was imagining you laughing. Or, trying to.” He stopped and swept his eyes up and down Sweden’s face, trying to discern if he was wearing his normal expression or an angry one. It was impossible to tell.
They stayed like that, paused - Germany, wound up tight and ready to spring at any moment, and Sweden, stock-still and piercing stare - then Sweden bared his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile and turned to bite into his doughnut.
Content that, at least for now, he wasn’t going to get a Viking beatdown, Germany let out a breath and relaxed (as much as he ever did, at least). He heard Sweden swallow the rest of the doughnut and a barely-audible “I laugh.”
“What?”
Sweden looked at his lap, licking doughnut remnants from his lips, and quietly repeated himself.
“I didn’t mean - “ Germany stopped when he saw that Sweden had opened his mouth again.
“Us’ally when ‘m really drunk,” he elaborated, and for a split-second Germany swore he saw the corners of Sweden’s mouth twitch up.
It made Germany smile, the tiniest bit, himself. He’d really like to see that. “Perhaps,” he began, “one night after the meetings are out....”
Sweden looked at him, eyebrows quirked down. Germany knew Sweden well enough by this point to interpret it as an inquiry and not a threat.
“...we could, ah, find a good bar?” he finished.
Sweden leaned back against the bench and looked off, silent.
Germany waited.
“Yeah. Sounds fun.”
Germany merely smiled - a wide, real one - in reply.
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So this brings my total of Anon Meme drabbles up to, what, eight now? I guess I should post the rest. Le sigh.
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Germany/Sweden
Summary: Eating lunch in comfortable silence.
Warnings: What the hell. None. What? What?!
Sweden wasn’t exactly sure when it had started.
Just that one day, during a break at a world meeting somewhere or another, he had been walking around outside with his bagged lunch and happened upon Germany, placidly sitting on a bench with his lunch. A mutual nod of acknowledgment passed, and Germany scooted over; nothing else was said, verbal or otherwise.
Sweden obliged.
He did the next time, and the next time, and at some point along the way it had become an unspoken - thing - of theirs. At least once during the meeting sessions, they would run into each other on the way in or out the door, in a hallway, something; either Sweden would raise an eyebrow, or Germany would flat-out ask when he wanted to meet, but regardless of how it happened, something was arranged.
They never talked, simply sat, and ate their lunch in mutual silence, and neither of them thought it too strange. It was peaceful, Sweden thought, after spending all morning in the clamor and chaos of the meeting room. Plus, even outside of meetings, he had to deal with Denmark and Finland’s chattering; he assumed Germany felt the same about Prussia and Italy.
He chewed on his apple and mused about that, beside Germany on yet another bench, in yet another country. Neither of them were too good with words, even though Germany led the meetings.
His thoughts were interrupted when Germany’s hand emerged from his peripheral vision, holding out a small doughnut in offering.
Ah, now this, it was a recent development. Sweden took it, not meeting Germany’s eyes, and mumbled a thanks; Germany coughed, shifted, politely responded in turn.
Sweden looked down at the doughnut, and then to his own lunch, trying to pick out something to offer Germany in turn. He frowned. He should have thought of that. Lately they had been bringing a little extra something, trading cuisines, he supposed. Sometimes a word or two (on Sweden’s part) would be spoken, explaining or thanking or offering - Germany, very rarely, offered a few minutes of one-sided conversation about some food he particularly liked. Cake, Sweden remembered, suddenly, Germany liked cake.
He looked down at the doughnut again, and over at Germany...and Germany’s physique. For seemingly having a sweet tooth, he sure was fit.
“Do you...do you not like doughnuts?” Germany asked, out of the blue.
Sweden started and looked at Germany; Germany faced forward and coughed, again.
“It’s not as if you’re obligated to take it,” Germany finally said, glancing at Sweden.
“S’not that,” Sweden mumbled, turning over the pastry in his hands. It looked very small, comparatively.
Germany raised his eyebrows - Sweden thought Germany was probably surprised he was speaking.
“I didn’ bring ya anythin’ - er, of my own,” Sweden explained, blushing at his thoughtlessness.
“You’re not obligated to do that, either,” Germany snorted - and at that Sweden turned around fully to stare at him. Germany gave a questioning stare in return, even as he recoiled, just a little.
“Y’laughed,” Sweden pointed, still staring, and frowning just a bit.
This roused yet another chuckle from Germany, and also a blush. “Yes. I am capable of laughter.” Germany began laughing again; again Sweden stared, unsure of why, or what to do, or if maybe this was a prank...
“What’s so funny?” Sweden asked.
“Ah,” Germany replied, calming down, “it’s not...it isn’t really that funny.”
Well, now Sweden wanted to know. It was worth talking again. “I’d like t’hear.”
Germany made an odd little strangled sound and turned to look at Sweden, unsure. “Er, to be blunt - I was imagining you laughing. Or, trying to.” He stopped and swept his eyes up and down Sweden’s face, trying to discern if he was wearing his normal expression or an angry one. It was impossible to tell.
They stayed like that, paused - Germany, wound up tight and ready to spring at any moment, and Sweden, stock-still and piercing stare - then Sweden bared his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile and turned to bite into his doughnut.
Content that, at least for now, he wasn’t going to get a Viking beatdown, Germany let out a breath and relaxed (as much as he ever did, at least). He heard Sweden swallow the rest of the doughnut and a barely-audible “I laugh.”
“What?”
Sweden looked at his lap, licking doughnut remnants from his lips, and quietly repeated himself.
“I didn’t mean - “ Germany stopped when he saw that Sweden had opened his mouth again.
“Us’ally when ‘m really drunk,” he elaborated, and for a split-second Germany swore he saw the corners of Sweden’s mouth twitch up.
It made Germany smile, the tiniest bit, himself. He’d really like to see that. “Perhaps,” he began, “one night after the meetings are out....”
Sweden looked at him, eyebrows quirked down. Germany knew Sweden well enough by this point to interpret it as an inquiry and not a threat.
“...we could, ah, find a good bar?” he finished.
Sweden leaned back against the bench and looked off, silent.
Germany waited.
“Yeah. Sounds fun.”
Germany merely smiled - a wide, real one - in reply.
---
-
---
So this brings my total of Anon Meme drabbles up to, what, eight now? I guess I should post the rest. Le sigh.