Countryhumans Oneshots :D

Sweden x India

[A/N: Thank you to @KritnaTheArtist for requesting this! To all my readers: don't be scared by all the notes at the bottom - you don't have to read them, but I'd appreciate it if you did (I put in a tonne of random culture stuff hehe)!

I'm sOOooooOOOoRY for this horrid quality Q^Q]

~ Third Person POV ~

Sweden wakes up even earlier than usual on Sunday, October 27th. This is mostly due to daylight savings, and instead of opening his eyes to an 0600 civil twilight, he slowly comes to consciousness around 0500. Which is fine with him, because several guests are visiting, and this gives him time to enjoy the morning.

It's cold today - the temperature is slowly but steadily dropping, hovering just a few degrees Celsius above freezing as the weeks pass by. The nordic country doesn't mind the chill as he slips out of bed, drifting around the room to light several white-floral and pomegranate scented candles. Their warm glow helps him wake up fully, ready to start the morning.

Sweden begins by making his bed, folding and tucking the sheets neatly, and then leaving a spritz of orange-blossom eau de toilet on the fluffy pillow (he does this every Sunday - it's one of his favourite scents). Next, he washes his face with warm water, enjoying the relaxing morning routine as he changes and gets ready for a quick jog. After that, he decides he'll make breakfast. Everything has a systematic, useful, and meaningful part in his morning. Jogs let him appreciate his city and it's people, and sometimes he'll just relax by the downstairs fireplace, reading a book before heading off to work. Enjoying each day certainly makes his life easier.

-

Holding a fresh cup of drip coffee in his hands, Sweden tends to the small trellis of Swedish Ivy on the kitchen wall. There's a rather large pot of risgrynsgröt on the modern stove, and it's been lightly simmering for the past 25 minutes, suffusing the house with the subtle scents of rice and cinnamon. Resisting the urge to lift the lid and let even more of the heavenly air escape (that would (probably) ruin the porridge), Sweden takes a sip of black coffee, the hot liquid sliding down his throat and warming his insides.

To pass the time, the Nordic country returns to his small wall of ivy, and gently waters the vibrant green plant, meticulously checking rounded leaves for even the slightest signs of cold or illness. By the time he finishes, soft footsteps signal the arrival of Finland and Norway.

"Morn, morn, brothers, how are you today? Would you like some coffee?" Sweden asks with a small smile, turning around to greet them.

"Go'morgen, søte bror. I would love some coffee ... need any help?" Is Norway's reply as he walks up to lean on the kitchen island.

Finland follows suit, albeit tiredly, "Yes, I would like some as well. And I'm ... not quite awake yet. You?"

"I'm excited about India's visit today. Having two guests is a lot though ..." Sweden trails off, slowly pouring water over a fresh set of coffee grounds.

There's a bit of silence as the three Nordics watch the first dribbles of coffee find their way to the pot. They stand close together, shoulders occasionally brushing, mesmerised by the warmth and the dark colour of the caffeinated liquid. Then: "Excited for India's visit, you say?"

"No comment, brorsan."

"Hm, really? Are you sure, because you two have had a lot of meetings to talk about this one trade deal ..." Finland grins and wraps his arms around Norway and Sweden, "Don't worry though, we won't pry, right Norway?"

Norway nods distractedly, "I suppose we'll find out sooner or later. Oh, looks like the coffee's done!"

The still kitchen suddenly springs back to life, with the tall countries plucking mugs off shelves, pulling out knitted sleeves for them, and pouring generous cupfuls of the drink. There's quiet laughter and a bit more teasing as they move to the living room, arranging themselves on the couch in front of the fireplace. Around five minutes later, the sound of off-key singing fills the house, and there are heavy footsteps as someone skips down the stairs. The slightly alarmed Nordics are greeted (blessed) with the sight of a shorts-and-sweatshirt, just-woke-up America.