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Post by Denmark on Jul 22, 2011 20:08:05 GMT -5
Finally running out of laughter, Mathias dared to make eye contact with the tall Swede.
”Good,” his brother said, smiling a queer, unsettling little smile. Mathias saw the displeasure underneath it and felt chilled. He'd seen that expression before. Berwald was surely plotting some form of retribution to punish him for sullying the 'serenity' of his precious car.
Whatever the Swede's plan, he was obviously going to save it for later. Mathias leaned back into his seat, back stiff and tense as he watched his brother out of the corner of his eye. That was the thing about Sve. You never knew when he was going to act. He could hold onto things forever before finally acting on them. The suspension was the worst part of what Berwald deemed 'punishment'.
Satisfied that no immediate danger from the driver was presenting itself, the Dane allowed to himself to relax a little more. Berwald took them to the mouth of the tunnel in an uneasy silence. Mathias drew in a deep breath as they entered, intending to hold it through the Drodgen. There was precious little about the underwater passageway that was interesting and if his brother was going to insist on this silent treatment then this solo breath-holding competition would be the only thing to entertain him.
When they had got up to speed, movement caught Mathias' eye. He leaned away into the door as his brother began to play with the radio. Surprisingly, it was still a tape deck. A disbelieving smirk crossed the Dane's face as he watched the other eject the cassette and insert another. He was about to ask why Berwald was still clinging to the musical dark ages when the tape began to play, blasting some kind of mind-numbing Swedish pop that would not have even been bearable as muted background music.
Denmark abandoned his breath-holding attempt.
“What is this crap?”
The Swede seemed to be enjoying it. He certainly ignored the horrified expression that crossed the Dane's visage and the outcry, though the latter might have been because currently the vocalist was in full warble. Mathias hoped the tape would soon stop, though if this was his punishment for fiddlng with the console it was likely his steel-eyed brother would keep the music blaring for the entre drive. His gaze fell on the volume dial and the stop button, wondering if he was game enough to press either of them.
Fortunately, Berwald himself turned the volume down. Unfortunately, it continued at a level too loud to be completely ignored.
“Tha' place w'usually g'to still open?”
Wow, it had been along time since Sve had been to visit, wasn't it? The memories of many late evenings spend at “their pub” were hazy with time as well alcohol, particularly the ones involving Berwald. Mathias preferred not to go to there by himself or with those other than his Nordics for the loneliness and nostalgia that descended in their absence, but he did keep up with the local gossip.
“Yeah, it's still there.” He decided against mentioning that the proprietor had recently lost his long, drawn-out health battle and simply added, “but it's under new management. Changed a little since you were last there.”
He twisted in his seat to look more directly at his brother, contemplating that face that was possibly more familiar to the Dane than his own. It did not seem to have changed since their last meeting, but Mathias was having difficult remembering when exactly that was. “How long has it been since you were last in Copenhagen, Sve? Or anywhere in my country?”
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Post by Sweden on Jul 24, 2011 11:58:29 GMT -5
Ignoring Mathias' childish breath holding, Berwald concentrated on the road quite enjoying the music currently playing. He would have played some trance, but a car isn't exactly the right place for that kind of music. It did remind him though to call Ludwig later in the week to find out when the next underground rave was being held though.
“What is this crap?”
"S'pop'lar dance m'sic," answered the Swede as if the answer was obvious. Really, he didn't understand why everyone had so many misgivings about his tastes in music. Ace of Base wasn't only popular in Sweden right now. They had a few hits in Britain and America too. A lot of Swedish artists were doing fairly well for themselves in America.
As he spotted the end of the tunnel, Berwald was glad that other than the earlier mess, Mathias had been able to behave himself quite well in the vehicle. As a reward, the driver turned the music down to a more tolerable level. It would be easier for them to talk now, as they didn't have to compete with the songs coming out of the speakers.
When Mathias told him the bar was under new management, the Swede hummed in understanding at the meaning. He vaguely remembered the owner having a few troubles. Once they cleared the mouth of the mouth, Berwald placed a comforting hand on Denny's shoulder for a moment, before returning his hand to the wheel. Watching the traffic and looking at the signs, Berwald had to dig inside his brain for the directions and almost missed a turn as he headed towards the bar.
“How long has it been since you were last in Copenhagen, Sve? Or anywhere in my country?”
Frowning in thought at the question, Berwald took a moment to think about it. It had been a long a time. He couldn't even remember when the last time was himself.
"When was th'last meetin' or conf'rence y'osted?" he ended up asking, turning onto a familiar street. It didn't take long after that to find the bar, even if he ended up driving past it once. Mathias hadn't told him about the name change.
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Post by Denmark on Jul 26, 2011 14:33:13 GMT -5
"When was th'last meetin' or conf'rence y'osted?"
The last one?
God, who would know? He had been holding conferences on electronic transport, education, dialogue between cultures, sustainable IT, and probably a billion others that he couldn't think of. He'd been keeping busy. From the sound of it, Berwald was as well. It was difficult to think over the top of that music, even though it was now turned down low.
The Dane shifted back in his seat, glancing out the window. They'd made it through the tunnel and were now getting into the network of busy city streets. It was unusual to travel through them in a car. He much preferred to cycle or walk, or if he was going long distances to use the public transport systems. In fact, it had been so long since he'd last drove, he wasn't entirely sure he could still remember how.
"A few weeks ago," he answered unhelpfully, for it was obvious the Swede hadn't attended. Though if the last time Berwald had crossed the border for a large international conference, it must have been at least three years ago - possibly even ten years back. Mathias himself didn't bother waiting for a meeting for an excuse to enter any of his brother's countries. He just went, sometimes announcing his presence, at other times just wandering around and quietly - or semi-quietly, there was often beer-drinking involved - evaluating how they were doing. Margrethe said he had trouble 'letting go' and would shower more tasks upon him if she found out he'd been traipsing around other parts of Scandinavia. The Dane figured she was probably right, but couldn't see the harm in it.
He was pondering that as he saw their bar fly past his window.
"It's back there." He pointed. "You drove straight past it."
The streets were busy and the glimpse of the bar indicated that a few others were visiting their favourite watering-hole. Not too many though, that was good. They'd be able to relax without worrying about being jostled or shouting to make themselves heard.
"Hurry up and park, Sve." He didn't mind walking a distance from here, should his driver park wherever 'here' was. And because he was feeling particularly delighted at having his brother in Copenhagen, terrible tastes in music aside, he offered, "I'll get the first round."
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Post by Sweden on Jul 27, 2011 19:10:57 GMT -5
"It's back there." Mathias pointed. "You drove straight past it."
"Know," rumbled Berwald calmly, looking around the intersection and pulling a U-turn to retrace their steps. It was only for a few meters and then he was turning into the parking lot. "Rec'gnized it after w'went by," he said, explaining the reason why he'd missed it the first time.
It certainly had been a while. The Swede had a good memory in general and missing the bar indicated it had been too long since he'd been to Copenhagen. It made him feel slightly guilty. He kept himself so busy with work, he sometimes forgot to take time off and visit his neighbors. Maybe after he'd take a vacation after the coming issues with the bridge, that he knew would arise. Berwald had never liked to leave work unfinished no matter how big or small the task.
By the time Mathias whined about parking, they were parked. Berwald turned off his Volvo, pressed a button on his door to unlock the car and then undid his seatbelt, just about ready to climb out when the Dane announced he'd get the first round.
"First 'round of bottles or pints?" he asked with an amused look. He was looking forward to the evening as well. It would certainly be a change from his regular nine to five schedule. He got out of the vehicle after asking his question, knowing Mathias would bolt right for the bar now that they parked. Locking the doors behind them with the press of a button, Berwald let the Dane lead the way. This gave him time to visually catch up with all the recent changes.
The taller nation reminisced in silence. It felt like something was missing since he'd last been here, but he couldn't put his name on it. Maybe it was because it felt like the atmosphere had changed a little. It really had been too long since he'd been here, and the guilt came back to gnaw at Berwald a little more, even if it didn't show in his face. The realization that he'd completely buried himself in work hit him again, a harder than before. It made the blonde stop just outside the door of the bar and stare at Mathias. The stare was awkward, a subtle mix of shame and shyness. Berwald's mouth contracted as if he were about to say something, but then it relaxed, unable to get the words out. He'd never been good with sharing his feelings. It was times like these he wished he had the way with words most people had.
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Post by Denmark on Jul 29, 2011 0:17:44 GMT -5
At least Berwald knew how to drive his shiny Volvo. The quick U-Turn he had pulled the swift car into meant that they were soon nestled into a park. Mathias undid his seat-belt and fiddled with the back as he waited impatiently for the soft 'clunk' as the central locking was released.
“First round of bottles or pints?'
“Pints, obviously.” The Dane couldn't see the reason in buying bottles in a pub when you could get them from a supermarket any time you felt like it. Had it really been so long since Berwald had been in a bar that he'd forgotten watering-hole etiquette? What had the Swede been doing with himself? Mathias gave him a side long glance as they got out of the car and began to head down the street. Most likely his brother had laced himself so tightly that he'd been passing the years in a blur of work and sleep. Small wonder he was wandering down the street with an open-eyed gaze as if he was trying to imprint the memory to last himself for another three years. He hoped it wouldn't be nearly that long, but Sweden had a different set of priorities. Perhaps visiting brothers wasn't as important as... carpentry, or whatever it was Berwald was into these days. Mathias didn't know. It had been several years since they'd last properly caught up after all, just the two of them.
He shook his head at the passive-aggressive thoughts. Who cared if Berwald had been busy? He was here now. If it was true that the 'next time' might be years in the future, which was hopefully less than likely given their new bridge, then it was doubly important that they made the most of this meeting. Instead, he made their walk educational by pointing out the changed business and buildings as they went past them, occasionally throwing in annecdotal stories.
Mathias gestured to his city's streets as he lead them down the pavement to the bar's door. “Has it changed much, Sve? I come through here all the time, so I can't tell if it's a big change, little change, good or bad.” He turned to the Swede who was hanging back.
His brother was staring at him oddly. Bewarld looked awkward, perhaps even a bit embarrassed, and his mouth contorted strangely as he went to say something but thought better of it.
Mathias frowned, assuming the tall blonde was diplomatically avoiding saying something offensive about the changes to the capital.
“That bad, huh? I didn't think it was that bad...” A little piqued at not getting the response he wanted – which was frank admiration, naturally – the messier-haired side of the duo pulled open the door of the bar and held it for his brother to pass through. “Maybe it will look better with a few beers in you.”
He pointed to their usual seats in the corner. “Go sit. I'll get us a drink.”
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Post by Sweden on Jul 29, 2011 19:17:43 GMT -5
The area had changed, there was no denying that. But it wasn't bad change. It was just the passing of time aging some of the buildings and human development having embellished others. Or torn them down and replaced them, changed the signs and whatever else happened. Berwald had certainly noticed a bit of graffiti that hadn't been there the last time he'd been here to this bar with Mathias.
The Swede had been about to reassure his brother, that no, the change wasn't bad. If change was bad, Berwald would have stopped leaving his house a long time ago. He'd just almost gotten the awkward words out of his mouth, when Mathias turned to open the door to the bar and the reassurances died on the tip of his tongue. Something told him the Dane had expected some sort of answer.
He walked through the door, squinting a bit to get his eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting in the place. Some people turned to look at who was coming in, Berwald expecting the few wary glances thrown his way. He had that effect on people, even when they were busy having a good time.
“Maybe it will look better with a few beers in you.”
Doesn't everything? had thought Berwald to himself, just barely keeping from making the quip remark. He didn't want to sour the evening with his lack of social word skills. So he simply shrugged and after making sure his brother was inside as well, started further into the bar. He'd been heading in a different direction until he'd remembered their usual table, once it had been , pointed out. Giving Mathias a nod, Berwald weaved through chairs and tables to take their usual spot.
Once sitting the blond took a look around the bar. Even the inside had changed since he'd been here last. The paint had been redone and Berwald noticed some roof work had been done. He remembered the past owner telling them about it the last time he'd been around. He remembered Mathias suggesting a contractor to fix it, and the Swede was happy to see that the job that had been done, had been done well. The chairs had been reupholstered and made cushier.
He was sad to see that the table had been sanded down though, and re-varnished. He remembered that his and Mathias' little family had carved quite a few things in the table. Each one of them had left a mark, and now it was all gone. It was saddening a little, and Berwald was tracing the very very light grooves in the wood top. He'd felt them by chance, the varnish just making them a little easier to find.
"Hm... s'th'only bad change..." he murmured, shifting to see if he could find the other marks they'd made. Resting his chin in his hand, he closed his eyes to better feel the barely existing grooves with his questing fingers. "S'Mathias' lion," he mumbled, not noticing if said Dane was coming with their beer or not. He was tracing the crude lion his brother had carved ages ago.
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Post by Denmark on Aug 2, 2011 0:28:36 GMT -5
Berwald veered off in the wrong direction for a few steps before adjusting his course correctly and heading for their customary table nestled in the corner. Mathias watched him go, wondering if the initial misdirection was due to poor memory or poor vision, or if perhaps it had been so long that the Swede had been in a bar that even entering the premises was intoxicating.
"Kan jeg hjælpe dig, kære?"
He turned to the sound of his human language, meeting the eye of the proprietess. Like the rest of the bar, she jarred with his memory of the last time he'd visited, and though Mathias had very much liked the old owner he had to admit that this svelt young creature was certainly easy on the eyes.
"To Carlsberg tak, smukke." He handed over his card with a grin.
She smiled nicely and moved quickly, but without the banter he was used to. It made him think back to the last time he'd been here, remembering the engaging wit of the previous bartender, which ultimately unlocked his memories of other nights spent here. He was grinning at the memory of a drunk Iceland stuck in a toilet stall (he'd been pulling at the handle instead of pushing, and to be fair had been plied with alcohol against his wishes) when the girl returned, handing him his card and the beers.
"Tak."
He picked the pint glasses up and headed towards the tall Swede. Berwald was tracing something on the table, muttering under his breath - so perhaps he was intoxicated by the area, after all. Mathias drew within earshot just in time to hear him say, "S'Mathias' lion."
"Is what my lion?" he asked brightly, setting one of the two drinks on the table and taking the seat nearest to his brother. He was interested but had pressing business and hand, and so lifted his drink without waiting for an answer. He issued his own customary toast, "Skaal! Bunden i vejret eller resten i håret!"
After a few gulps he put his beer on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking inquiringly towards his brother. "What about my lion?"
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Post by Sweden on Aug 2, 2011 21:39:35 GMT -5
"Is what my lion?"
Opening his eyes and looking up, Berwald gave his brother a bit of a puzzled stare, before realizing what he'd been doing. Picking up his own pint glass, he waited for Mathias to finish the toast.
"Skål," the taller blond replied, nodding and lifting the pint to clink it against the other's. Berwald use the mug to hide the embarrassed blush across his cheeks, for getting caught reminiscing. Lifting the beer to his lips, the brew was downed completely with the ease of ages. He wouldn't have put it past Mathias to grab the mug and dump it over his head if any was left. As it was, he was done before the Dane and placed the empty pint down, as he lifted a fist to his mouth to cover up a burp. He hadn't drunk alcohol that fast in a while...
"What about my lion?"
"Hm?" hummed Berwald, lifting a brow at the question and then remembering what he'd been doing while waiting for their drinks. "Oh," he rumbled afterwards. "Y'lion," he stated, grabbing Mathias' free hand and placing it over the faint grooves in the varnish. "Th'one y'carved... think when w'first started comin' 'ere," Berwald finished, wondering if his brother's fingers would feel the faded lines.
"Th'sanded th'table o'er," the Swede added with a nervous clear of this throat. Berwald wasn't sure if pointing the change out to Mathias was a good idea. The past had always been a minefield of a subject with the Dane, and Berwald wasn't sure if he wanted to open that can of worms again. Sweeping his hand across the left side of the table, he found more grooves and patted the spot.
"Think this's Norge's mark," he muttered. Vidar had carved his name in old Norse, and of course the other two ex-vikings had followed suit. They'd even written down Tino's and Eirík's, since neither of them remembered the ancient alphabet. That had to have been at least a decade ago or more. As his hand traced each name, he made sure to point them out to Mathias.
Feeling a bit awkward now, Berwald grabbed his empty pint and stood. "Go get th'next round," he murmured, heading to the bar. He hadn't even opened his mouth yet, when the proprietress started teasing him for being Swedish. Which surprised him, since he'd expected her to be afraid of him to a certain degree. She managed to make him blush though, and the woman laughed at him for that two. Then she leaned forward, Berwald noticing she was now flaunting her womanly assets at him in the form of generous cleavage, as she asked to him to teach her a bit of Swedish.
Politely fulfilling the request, the Swede finally managed to ask for the second round of pints. Before the proprietress handed over the mugs though, she made Berwald lean over the bar, so she could whisper something in his ear. By the time he'd excused himself and made his way back to Mathias, the Swede was blushing from ear to ear and sat down in flustered silence, putting one of the pints next to the Dane's unfinished one.
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Post by Denmark on Aug 5, 2011 23:42:18 GMT -5
"Hmm?" Berwald took a moment to think about, which Mathias allowed because his brother had obediently finished the entire pint in a single scull. "Oh. Y'lion."
The Swede moved quickly, grabbing Mathias' hand and moving it over a particular spot on the table. "Th'one y'carved... I think when w'first started comin' 'ere."
Oh!
"Th'sanded th'table o'er."
Now that it was mentioned he did remember the carving. How annoying that the new owners had sanded it down; the table had been a part of their history. He moved his fingers over the varnish searchingly but couldn't feel the small remaining grooves his brother seemed able to find. Maybe he was too impatient and moved his hand too quickly to pick up the subtle indentations or maybe Sve had more delicate hands. Probably the latter, he thought as Sve patted another spot and declared it 'Norge's mark'.
Next Berwald pointed out where they'd wrote Iceland's name and Finland's. It brought back a flood of happy memories and Mathias couldn't help but chuckle as he thought of how surreptitious they thought they were being. The owner must have known it was them all along. Maybe that's why this table hadn't been touched until now, with the new owners demanding a total do-over.
"Go get th'next round," his brother said, standing and taking his empty glass.
Nodding, Mathias immediately moved his hand to the spots that his other brothers' names were supposedly carved. If he really relaxed and tried not to think too much he could find traces, but never the whole name. The letters were smoothed out in some places and his fingers slipped over them. He went over all of their names in turn, even his own lion, and then began to search for Sweden's, the only one the man himself hadn't pointed out.
Had he made a mark on this table? Surely he must have. But what? Mathias couldn't remember his brother digging into the tabletop for anything other than gouging out Tino's name in Old Norse off-hand, but there had to be something. The movements of his fingertips were questing and increasingly frantic until he came across something to his left.
Closing his eyes and taking his time, he gradually became aware of a Norse-style...
Is that a moose?
He opened his eyes and squinted at the varnish but his eyes were more useless than his fingertips. He would have to wait for Berwald to come back so he could ask the other nation directly.
Speaking of which, his brother seemed to have been distracted by the comely bartender who was handing the pint glasses over and almost climbing the bar in an effort to whisper in Berwald's ear. The Swede must have been getting an eyeful and an earful because he was still bright red by the time he'd brought the two beers over.
Mathias finished off his beer from the previous round, eying that pink-face with a smirk.
"Two things, Sve," he said as he swapped his now-empty glass for the fresh one. "One," he pointed to the area of the table he'd been investigating, "is this a moose? What's with the moose? And two, what did that girl do to you to turn you into a blushing beauty?"
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Post by Sweden on Aug 8, 2011 11:21:07 GMT -5
"Two things, Sve," Mathias said, right after the flustered blond hat sat. Berwald was glad that his face was slowly cooling down, glad to have the table as a distraction once more. At least he had an excuse to now ignore the looks the proprietress was giving them.
Reaching over to feel the spot on the table, the Swede closed his eyes once he found the mark with his fingers and traces over the faint grooves. Ah, he'd forgotten about his moose. He remembered now, that he'd carved it right after Mathias had carved the lion. It must have been before they'd done the rest of the graffiti on the table with the rest of their little group. Why he'd carved the moose, Berwald didn't quite remember the exact reason, but he wished he had paper and some lead to imprint the design.
"S'my national 'nimal," he answered finally, taking his hand away and lifting the pint to his lips for a sip. It likely wasn't the reason why he'd carved the moose, but it was a logical answer. Mathias would have to be satisfied with that.
He nearly spat the beer out, when the Dane asked about what the woman had said to him. He choked on his mouthful instead, cheeks colouring back up, as he coughed to clear his airway.
Face back to its brightly embarrassed blush, Berwald cleared his throat and drank more of his beer. He had to figure out how to tell his brother what he'd been told. It was going to be a hard thing to do, considering the context. Still too embarrassed to repeat what he'd heard right away, the Swede stalled. He coughed a bit longer, pretending to still be recovering from the ale that had gone down the wrong pipe. Then he pretended to be interested in tracing patterns in the moisture left on the table left by their pints. Finally, Berwald took a deep breath, ready to get it over with. Now that he felt like he could talk again without clamming right up.
"Hrm, sh'prop'sitioned t'me," he started, shy and awkward. "Well, t'both o' us... wan'ed t'know'f we'd stay 'fter closin' n'..." clearing his throat, his face still aflame, Berwald's words trailed off into a garbled mumble. Really, he wasn't drunk enough to deal with women that forward at this time of day. He couldn't even meet Mathias' gaze, ready for the teasing and ridicule that was sure to follow.
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Post by Denmark on Aug 9, 2011 4:49:54 GMT -5
Mathias was not particularly impressed by Berwald's assertion that the moose was his national emblem - after all, they had all originally shared the lion as their symbol except for Iceland who insisted on being different and went for a falcon. At least a falcon was in the same sort of vein as a lion. A moose didn't fall into any of the same categories, unless perhaps the category was 'interesting animal costumes'.
He almost pointed it out and risked jeopardizing their overdue catch-up by dredging up the past but then Berwald began to choke in response to his casual inquiry about the bartender. The Swede changed colour. Mathias watched, torn between amusement and concern and tried to figure out if the colour change was due to lack of oxygen or embarrassment. He wondered if he should give the taller man a thump on the back when finally Berwald managed to catch his breath. Must have been due to embarrassment, he decided, as the usually unflappable blonde, now breathing normally, became suddenly engrossed in the rings of condensation left by their pint glasses. The blush still in force and he was avoiding eye contact. The Dane noticed this with an anticipatory grin and gulped from his glass as he waited. It promised to be good.
"Hrm, sh'prop'sitioned t'me... Well, t'both o'us... wan'ed t'know'f we'd stay 'fter closin'n'..."
Mathias, less graceful than his present company, reacted by accidentally spitting out his mouthful of beer. He couldn't help but crack up, one hand supporting his ribs and the other lightly knocking the table as waves of hearty laughter rocked through him. No wonder Berwald had been such a delightful shade of fuchsia.
"She's keen, bror," he managed to gasp out between a bout of chuckles, "to come out with that on the second round."
He caught sight of the pretty barmaid watching them curiously and was away again, laughing so hard that his eyes watered - mostly at Berwald's mortification than her offer, though that was hilarious in itself.
"Only been in here five minutes and she's already throwing herself at your handsome feet. I bet she'll be wanting to take the 'Easy Way to Sweden'. All the hell you put me through and my women still can't resist you." He shook his head in mock dismay and called out to the woman. "He's a heart-breaker! Don't be fooled by the Swedish smooth-talk!"
Finally manage to gain control over himself, he quietened down a bit. "Let's not plan that far ahead yet, shall we? It's still very early. Try to control your rampant sex appeal for another few rounds at least, hm?" He allowed himself a smirk before finally granting mercy to his much belabored old friend and changing the subject. "So, relax with a pint, try not to encourage her just yet and tell me what's been keeping you so busy."
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Post by Sweden on Aug 10, 2011 19:53:17 GMT -5
Resisting the childish urge to punch Mathias in the shoulder for laughing so loud and garnering the stares of everyone in the bar, Berwald settled on setting his darkest glare on his face. His eyes bored into the Dane, head tilted just so, in a way that made them glower above the slim black frame of the blond's glasses. Berwald shifted a bit uncomfortably under all the stares and turned his glare on the small crowd, until everyone was back to paying attention to their own beers or conversations.
He wanted to get some words out, scold his idiot brother for laughing so much. Berwald was thinking of retaliating, either physically, verbally or by stealing Mathias' beer and just downing the pint before the other could finish any of it. After contemplating all the options though, Berwald just heaved a big sigh and shook his head and relaxed. He probably wouldn't admit it out loud just so his brother's already inflated ego didn't get any bigger, but he had missed the boisterous ex-viking's company. The Swede had missed the mirth and noise. Sipping from his mug, he watched on with an air of amused brotherly suffering.
Although once Mathias started in on the teasing, it didn't stop Berwald from sending the Dane another narrowing of the eyes. He did grumble though, when the blush returned to his cheeks although it wasn't as dark as before. At this point though, just to keep himself from further embarrassment, Berwald was firmly ignoring the existence of the bar and the maid behind its counter.
"Good t'know y'dun wanna share bed or women wit' me, 'nytime soon," the bespectacled blond rumbled with a touch of teasing. Drinking from his pint again, he was glad for the change in subject when Mathias asked him what he'd been so busy doing.
"Mostly EU business," the Swede answered. He'd recently entered the European Union about five years ago and it had taken up a lot of his time. Trying to both meet the demands of the Union and of his people had been quite a bit of a puzzle, but things seemed to be well on their way now. "Was also b'sy wit' sendin' troops t'Yug'slavia. T'elp wit' th'peacekeepin'," he added, shifting to finally shed his suit jacket. He draped it over the bar of the chair he sat in, making sure it wouldn't accidentally end up on the floor as the night would wear on.
"Wha' 'bout ya?" Berwald asked, after a few moments of silence. "Know y'can't spend all y'time drinkin' n' lazin' 'round."
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Post by Denmark on Aug 13, 2011 3:04:13 GMT -5
“Mostly EU business.” His brother's blush had already faded and apart from avoiding looking toward the bar he seemed comfortable. “Was also b'sy wi' sendin' troops t'Yug'slavia. T'elp wit' th'peacekeepin'.”
There was a brief pause in which Berwald freed himself from his suit jacket and hung it carefully over the back of his chair. It made the Dane wonder where his own was; must still be in the security detail's car. Oh well. It wasn't like he planned to wear it, anyway. He really should have brought a change of clothes because the suit pants and the stupid tie were beginning to get annoying. He consoled himself with the idea that they could always skip by his house to change if the clothes became unbearable.
He also digested the changes as he continued enjoying the beer. It was strange the think that Sverige was involved in military operations that didn't in some way involve him as either the opposition or an ally. Another change, one that the attention-demanding nation couldn't deny he disliked. He preferred the times when the other Nordics' worlds revolved around him. Every year they relied on each other a little less. Mathias didn't like it but the others had made it clear that this was way they wanted things to be.
“Wha' 'bout ya? Know y'cant spend all y'time drinkin' n' lazin' 'round.”
He gave a shrug in response. “Not much exciting. You'll see I finally signed the stupid Maastricht Treaty after I got them to make a few exemptions for me. Can join you with the EU business now.” He rolled his eyes, thinking the Union was more trouble than it was worth. He'd only gone along with it because Sve and Fin did and he didn't want to be left out. He was hoping they might run into each other a bit more frequently through having that in common. “What else... Oh, you probably heard about the refugee thing, huh? Trying to sort it out. Think it's sorted now.” He felt his cheeks threaten heat up, still a bit embarrassed about that even though it had been several years back now and his prime minister had resigned over it. “Other than that... general social welfare reforms, changing up the economy a bit, training up Faroe Islands.” He smiled a little smile that was both proud and rueful. “Think Faroe's almost ready for home-rule.”
It would be a little lonely in his big old house when the Faroe Islands went the same way as Greenland but at least he was getting better at letting his family find their independence. In some ways he was beginning to look forward to it even though he knew it was going to take some time to adjust. He expected most parents felt like that when their children grew to the stage that they didn't need the same care; hating the separation but glad to finally have some time to devote to their own aspirations. With Faroe and Greenland both managing themselves domestically Mathias would have more time to devote to his projects. He had a few energy-saving ones and humanitarian ones that he was interested in pursuing further – it would be good to get back out on the international stage a bit more, especially seeing as his Nordic family as doing the same. Besides, they were still part of his realm so it wasn't like he would be seeing the two youngest as infrequently as he was the older brothers.
“I think...” He stumbled a little on the words and found himself looking into mug. Instead of blushing like his brothers might, he frowned at his pint as if in concentration to hide his embarrassment as he tread the next area carefully. He didn't really know why he was sharing this thought. It felt important. Maybe he'd regret it later but he wanted to share it with somebody and he knew Berwald would understand. The Swede would probably understand better than Norge, and could be better trusted not to bring up again as a weapon against the Dane if there was a passing argument. “I think I'm finally getting some strength back, after everything...”
He didn't know what more to say so he drained his glass, waiting for Berwald to make the next move.
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Post by Sweden on Aug 16, 2011 19:21:23 GMT -5
Berwald was quiet as his brother talked, watching the Dane with casual attention and interest. It was interesting to hear that Mathias had joined with the EU, but not surprising. Although the Swede would have thought that the boisterous nation would have waited to see if Norge would have joined first. As much as Mathias liked to claim to to be the leader, sometimes most things he did were prompted by something Berwald's western neighbor did. The Swede nodded though, to show he was paying attention.
After Mathias mentioned the refugee situation, Berwald nodded once more. He'd heard of it and had wanted to help, but he'd been tied up with his own business at the time. The bespectacled blond made some thoughtful noises afterwards, as he listened to Mathias talk about his own projects within Denmark. Berwald had been occupied with much of the same things, but he did raise his eyebrows when the other mentioned training the Faroese.
“Think Faroe's almost ready for home-rule."
As much as the news was a surprise, it showed the Swede how much his brother was changing. No doubt that once Faroe did leave Mathias' house, it would be hard on the Dane. Berwald knew first hand how well his brother took to separations. Looking down at his mug, he felt a slight pang of guilt. He'd exploited that weakness in the other when he'd taken Norge, after having lost Tino to Ivan. It had just been another quarrel between the two of them, but Berwald had been especially hurt at the time and had wanted Mathias to hurt just as badly as he'd been. It was a wonder the both of them could even sit within the bar without starting a fight, what with all the bad blood between them. The Swede guessed they must have both tired of it on some level, considering how well they could work together now.
“I think...”
Berwald looked up and stared at the normally confident blond. Even with Mathias trying to hide it, he could see the embarrassment. The Swede merely hummed though, a soft form of encouragement, curious to see where the Dane was going.
“I think I'm finally getting some strength back, after everything..."
Ah, now Berwald understood. He nodded slowly, giving Mathias time to collect himself. He was considering what to say, but then simply reached over to give his brother's shoulder a squeeze.
"S'good t'see y'growin' up, bror," rumbled Berwald softly, affection in his tone. "M'sure Faroe'll be mighty proud n' 'appy. Might not b'easy at first, but y'jus' gotta keep in mind y'still friends," he continued, giving Mathias' hair a bit of a ruffle. It was moments like these the Swede felt like the older brother, trying to lead by example.
"Y'll see," he added after finishing his own beer. "Things can only g'up from now on," Berwald ended calmly. He pushed both of his empty pints to the middle of the table, then flicked his fingers on the top of Mathias' hand.
"Y'better get th'next round, 'less y'want me t'spont'nuously combust n' burn th'bar down," the taller blond muttered, now his turn to look embarrassed again. His words were in jest though, even though he could feel a blush threatening to creep up his cheeks. "She'd 'ave b'tter luck wit' ya 'nyway."
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Post by Denmark on Aug 18, 2011 5:23:33 GMT -5
There was movement in the corner of his eye – Berwald was nodding. Uncharacteristically, Mathias found himself balking at direct eye contact and so instead raised his gaze only to the level of his brother's collar.
Berwald had brought the Dane to his knees. The Swede had been brutal in victory, taking almost everything that had ever mattered away without ceremony in order to leave Mathias in his own personal hell; humbled and isolated, so weak that he'd been unable to protect himself and so had felt the additional humiliation and pain of losing some of his land. Suddenly having gone from having the upper-hand to losing every altercation he became in involved in, Denmark had not borne his suffering well.
Finally, though, times were changing and Denmark was changing with them. He could feel some strength returning after having suffered so many defeats. It was different to the strength of being able to wage war with careless abandon but he felt more certain of himself, more resilient, and able to once again get involved on the international stage. What would his old rival make of this?
He studied the neatly-pressed collar, wondering whether Berwald would be happy, relieved or concerned by the revelation that Denmark had finally regained enough strength that he was ready to cut out a new place for himself.
It seemed Berwald's mind was still digesting the news about the Faroe Islands for he didn't pick up on the unannounced topic change. Or did he? The Swede's hand fell on Mathias' shoulder, squeezing it lightly, and then moved upward, rough fingers coursing through his hair and mussing it up in an affectionate, familial gesture. The Dane allowed it, leaning his head into the hand for the reassurance it provided. There seemed to be nothing else to say on the matter and Mathias was glad Sve didn't labour the point.
“'S good t'see y'growin' up, bror,” Berwald said in a warm, affectionate voice. He continued on, commenting on the up-coming changes to the Dane's house in a mentoring, supportive way. If Mathias had been better suited to intuition he might have wondered if Berwald's preoccupation with Faroe's departure was in some way linked to the Swede's guilt over forcing several separations on him, but as it was he simply took comfort from his brother's calm confidence.
“Things can only g'up from now on.”
”Yeah.” Mathias thought that pretty much the worst things that could happen had already happened. He gave a half-smile, a rare smile that was much more genuine than bright grin he habitually used and lifted his gaze.
Berwald pushed his empty glasses into the middle of the table. “Y'better get th'next round,” he flicked Mathias' hand, “less y'want me t'spont'nuously combust n'burn th'bar down.”
“Huh?” Mathias raised a confused eyebrow. “Why would you suddenly burn down the bar? I thought you liked it?” The returning blush clued him. He glanced over at the bar where the barmaid was polishing glasses and felt a smirk spread across his lips as he quickly forgot his earlier awkwardness. “Oh, right.”
“She'd 'ave b'tter luck wit' ya'nyway.”
“Are you saying I'm easy?” Unoffended, Mathias hopped off of his chair and collected the empty glasses. “Well, I'm not going to speak Swedish to her so I'm sure you'll still be her favourite.”
Laughing, he sailed over to the bar. He deposited the empties on the bar with a clink and an upbeat ”Two more, please.”
The woman was quick to comply. She took the empties without comment, cheeks a bit pinker than usual, and glanced over at the corner table where Berwald sat. Mathias watched as she put the new glasses under the beer taps and began to fill them.
“So... You're interested in my brother, huh?”
The blush went from pink to red, spreading not only across her cheeks but down her neck as well. Cautiously, she ventured that Berwald seemed nice, that they both seemed nice. Mathias listened with glazing eyes as she elaborated. It was hard to meet nice guys in Copenhagen, didn't you know? Most were so arrogant, like they really thought they were God's gift to women and it so wasn't true because what girl wanted a guy who spent more time on his hair than she did on hers? His friend was different, and Swedish, and interesting, and hadn't opened the conversation by trying to hit on her which was always a welcome change. Copenhagen men were so predictable and self-centered.
”I'm from Copenhagen,” he pointed out with a pout.
She just smiled and winked, reassuring him that he was gorgeous enough that she could forgive his Copenhagen origins. She placed the two pints within easy reach and placed a lingering hand on his arm. She was, she said, heading out on the town later and would love to help him show his brother more of the city.
He shrugged, reaching for the beers as soon as she released his arm. “Sure, maybe.”
Pints in hand, he backed away from the bar and rejoined Berwald at their table. He placed a beer in front of the Swede and began on his own. “All she wanted to talk about was how she wants to be a Swedish lady and how men from Copenhagen care too much about their hair.”
He pretended to sigh in disappointment but couldn't hide his grin. “She's all yours, bror. Have fun.”
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