Just an idea that popped into my head a few weeks ago. AU - fem!Swedenxfem!Finland, I'm thinking 1950s? I've got a sort-of idea blossoming for my next multichapter fic and I'm developing the AU. Oh, and I don't own the cover image, I'm using it as a placeholder until I draw my own (if I draw my own... ^^;)

Warnings: kissing between women

Recommended listening: 'När Jag Blundar' by Pernilla Karlsson

"To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world"

Tiina doesn't deserve this, this, this devotion. That is the word: utter devotion.

Tiina doesn't know how or even if she can love the Svea back.

It is Friday, a dark December night. Snowflakes float softly outside the window, spiralling from the heavens down to the grey city streets. It is one of those nights, where everything is still and quiet. Even inside, it is quiet. They haven't been drinking for very long.

Tiina sits on the couch, head back against the cushions. Her legs are curled beneath her, stockinged feet rubbing gently against the velvet of the seat cover. Her pale blue skirt has ridden up around her thighs, and her shirt is untucked.

Beside her is Svea. Turning her head to the side, nuzzling her cheek into the soft fabric of the settee, Tiina gazes at the older woman. She is so beautiful; the softest wheat-coloured hair, loose around her shoulders after a day of being drawn back into a bun, those glasses resting on the bridge of her long nose, slightly crooked, and those piercing aquamarine eyes, half-lidded with sleepiness. A glass of wine sits comfortably in her elegant hands.

Suddenly Svea turns her own head, and their eyes meet. Tiina feels heat rise in her face, and breaks eye contact, staring down at her hands, which hold an identical glass of wine.

Svea's eyes are so intense, the Finn feels like she'll drown in them – drown in the emotions they hold.

The living room is cosy. The large fireplace in the wall opposite is home to a crackling fire, glinting orange and yellow. Shadows dance across the plum coloured walls and through every crease in the heavy brocade curtains. A thick rug on the floor, the little radio on the low wooden table, everything adds to the deliciously homely atmosphere.

"Tiina." The name is a caress, gentle as the crystal snow outside. It is both a statement and a request. Svea wants to know if she can go further.

With a long sigh, Tiina shuffles sideways and lays her head on Svea's shoulder, stretching her legs out. An arm loops around her shoulders and a hand rests on her upper arm. Svea leans forward and inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of Tiina: perfume, powder, and that irresistibly sweet smell that belonged to nobody else.

"I love you…" the tall woman whispers into Tiina's hair, her Swedish so much more eloquent than her English. Tiina understands Swedish, since so much of their business comes from Sweden. The hushed, tender voice both pleases and pains Tiina. The adoration that Svea lavishes her with makes her feel wonderful, attractive, special.

But it also makes her feel guilty. She takes this love and gives nothing back, because she doesn't know how. She doesn't know whether she can love another woman, or how to show her love without babbling or blushing or being a fool like she is, because she doesn't want Svea to see that.

If nothing else, Svea is her housemate, so if she ruined everything Tiina would have to move out.

No, if nothing else, Svea is her best friend, and she doesn't want to lose her.

Svea presses a kiss onto Tiina's hair, golden blonde and glowing in the firelight. An angel that Svea wants nothing more than to cherish for the rest of their lives. Soon the lust overtakes her and she's peppering Tiina with little kisses, her hair and forehead. She's just aware enough to stop as her arms tighten around the smaller woman's shoulders – she doesn't want to alarm Tiina.

Tiina looks up, straight into Svea's eyes. They are hazy, intoxicated. The Swedish woman is drunk with wine and atmosphere and love. Slowly, Svea leans closer, and kisses Tiina delicately on the corner of her mouth, watching as the Finn closes her eyes, her long eyelashes stroking her flushed cheeks.

"Please let me hold you."

Tiina nods, eyes still closed firmly. She doesn't want to see the longing on her friend's face.

Svea happily wraps her long arms around Tiina's petite frame, pulling her close, almost into her lap. Her hands splay out along Tiina's stomach, long fingers craving the touch of creamy skin and soft curves. The weight is wondrously familiar, as if Tiina was made to be there. But Svea isn't stupid; she knows that this is all she will have for a long while at least. So she savours every moment.

In Svea's arms, Tiina holds back tears. She can feel the desire seeping from Svea's hands, arms, the crooks of her elbows and curve of her neck – every part that touches Tiina presses a tenderness into her that makes her heart ache.

She loves Svea, but not yet in the way that Svea loves her.

I've just realised... I wrote that in present tense. I never write in present tense.

Reviews are much appreciated for improvement of my writing!