Acute Paranoia Omake

Title: Stalwart Blue 'n Yellow

Warnings: Definite whiff of Finland/Sweden.

-X3-

Some decisions in Finland's life had been monumental, such as the time he had decided to flee Denmark's house with Sweden and never return. Others were trivial, like what colour socks would he wear today.

Tino believed that deciding between being cocooned within a mountain of blankets with his face smashed into a cushy pillow for another few hours and getting up fell round about the middle of the scale.

Well, normally the decision would be an easy one. Hell, even a bulldozer wouldn't get him out of such a bed, especially after a UN meeting, were the circumstances not so dire. As it was, Tino's wayward husband had yet to come to bed and it was already past two in the morning.

Grumbling, Tino crawled out from under the blankets, snagged his dressing gown from the back of the door, and made his way downstairs.

"Berwald?"

There was an eerie blue glow emitting from the kitchen, and Tino followed it, feeling more apprehensive by the second. He rounded the corner into the kitchen and came across the Swedish nation hulking over a very map-laden kitchen table...

Why the hell did it have little Ikea flags stuck all over it?

"Berwald, it's quarter-past two in the morning. What on earth are you doing? ...and those flags better not have left marks in the table top, or so help me..."

"But ah gotta work on m' master plan."

"Need I emphasize the ungodliness of the hour...wait, what? Your what?"

"'M master plan. 'Merica n what'isname are tryin' t' take over the world..."

Tino repressed a shudder, remembering the caterwauls echoing throughout the government building as America and...er...the guy with the Olympics?...Canada! Yeah, as America and Canada tried to claw their way out of the 'special' room with all the padding and the multiple locks on the door. Really, Tino thanked the day Sweden bought little Sealand off Ebay; who knows what might have happened were England and France left to rear impressionable little Peter as they had done poor Aflred and er...Malcolm? Montgomery? Mitchell? Whatvever.

"Berwald, baby, the North Americas—not to mention their parents—are lunatics. Everyone knows that Imperialism pretty much died out with the Great War."

"Course it didn't. 's just sneakier now. Silly 'Merica...silly 'lympic host...they dunno that Ikea is gonna best both Tim Hortons 'n McDonalds...n' Sweden will be great once more..."

"But...doesn't Denmark own Ikea now?"

Berwald seemed to develop quite the twitch upon that passing remark, and perhaps it was best Finland didn't press the matter because direct conversion involving Søren led to things getting broken, unintentionally or not. As it was, already many little Ikea flags met their untimely demise in the Swede's clenching hands at the mention of his southern axe-wielding neighbour, and Tino would very much prefer that their furniture was spared the same fate.

"'S a Dutch-registered company owned by Kamp'r. Not the same thing."

"Ohhh."

Berwald started to pace around the table, much like a vulture circling a dying wildebeest. Tino began to feel quite inwardly alarmed; it was not like his husband to be so radically fanatical.

"'N ev'ry country there'll be 'n Ikea. The retail buildings will dominate their surroundings, painting the nations stalwart blue 'n yellow. Germany is already m' bitch...and most of the rest of Europe is within m' grasp as well...soon Ukraine will bow to me...and Romania and Ireland and New Zealand! The rest of the world'll follow!"

He suddenly stopped and grabbed hold of Tino's shoulders, pulling the shorter nation in for a harsh, if not rather chaste, kiss on his forehead.

"M'wife...y' shall b' m'Queen. Yuh will rule by m' side...over m'Emp're."

Sweden's eyes shone with a manic gleam behind his glasses, his breath coming a little faster and strained, almost aroused. Meanwhile, Tino took a short moment to wonder how he could have so wrong about his steadfast lover all these centuries.

To think he'd actually thought Berwald was mentally stable...

"Do I really want to know what's under the napkin?" Tino sighed, wearily indicating the concealed, oddly-shaped lump sprouting out of the Scandinavian region on the map. Sweden inclined his head, the blue glow of his Ikea sign making his glasses flash sinisterly, and whipped off the aforementioned napkin with an uncharacteristic flourish.

"'S our castle. Y' like?"

Finland just gaped at the intricate model and facepalmed. Hard.

"Berwald you daft idiot, I just wanted the kitchen renovated! Not a whole flippin' palace!"

-X3-

Yes, my Finland is not a moe-pushover. He is a badass MoFo with a cute-'n-fluffy exterior. Deal with it.

*headdesk* Jjdhfjsgslhgsbgksklfpalandjak(wtf?Icelandic-volcano-name-much?) I hate typing in Berwaldian.

Lemme know if I have typos m' lovelies. Ta ta.