Chapter Text
The sun was shining, the birds were singing; it was a beautiful morning in Denmark. Or, at least, it should have been. Denmark himself awoke in high spirits, taking a deep breath and stretching widely. He threw aside his blankets, swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and promptly fell flat on his face.
He was quite confused, not least because he had been getting out of bed every morning for hundreds of years and had never tripped over his own two feet before. Pulling himself up using the edge of the mattress, he took several slow, shaky steps toward the dresser on the other side of his room. The ground seemed to be too far away, and each step sent a wave of pain up his legs as he fell forward into them. Gradually, his body began to compensate for the strange situation, and he was nearly walking regularly by the time he reached his destination, which was fortuitous considering he certainly would have fallen over at what was in the mirror hanging there if he'd been any less steady on his feet.
There was a strange woman looking back at him. A strange woman, he realized slowly, who had to be him.
* * *
In Sweden the morning was no less glorious, but since it was Sunday, there was no reason to get up. Slowly Finland reached the hazy state between asleep and awake, and considered going back to sleep, until he realized the chest he was using as a pillow was considerably more ample than the flat one he'd gone to sleep on.
"Augh!" He shot up, pushing himself up with his arms to get as far away from the mysterious woman he had been unintentionally groping in his sleep as possible.
"Ng?" she grunted, stirring and glaring at Finland something fierce.
As she should, Finland chastised himself, you were getting awfully friendly for someone who doesn't even know her! After his initial panic subsided slightly, however, he realized she wasn't glaring so much as squinting at him as if she couldn't really see him, and it just happened to look incredibly scary and-- "...Sve?"
"Wassamatter, Fin?" the woman slurred, clearly still not quite awake. She turned to the bedside table and felt around for Sweden's glasses, slipping them on when she found them and turning back to Finland.
"Uh, Sve," he began hesitantly, "You, uh, you're a little..." He trailed off, gesturing vaguely.
The probably-not-a-stranger-after-all sat up, impossibly long blonde hair falling around her face and shoulders as she took a look at herself. "Got turned into a woman."
"Looks like it," Finland agreed, deciding this must be his Sweden and not involve that alternate universe Estonia had told him about.
Sweden turned to Finland, looking bewildered, and he couldn't get over how similar yet how different she—he looked. He was so busy trying to reconcile the two in his head, it took him a few seconds to realize Sweden seemed to be waiting for him to say something. "I'm sure we can fix it," he tried. "There is one thing that works in all the stories..."
"What stories?"
"The ones Hungary send me links to. People get genderswapped for no discernible reason in them all the time."
Sweden's expression suggested he was deeply suspicious of any methodology suggested in the things Hungary read in her spare time, but with no alternative, he asked, "What do they do?"
Finland smiled the smile he always smiled when he wanted to look sweet and innocent but actually he was thinking thoughts the content of which was along the lines of the aforementioned links. It wasn't everyday you found out your hot boyfriend was still really hot in a girl's body, after all.
* * *
After sufficient poking of himself in the face to verify he had, for reasons unknown, woken up a woman, Denmark made the only logical decision and got breakfast. He carefully pondered his predicament as he laggardly lingered over his toast.
If at all possible, he wanted to avoid public knowledge of the situation. His boss, for example, would probably draw the entire government into analyzing what this meant and writing reams of reports, despite the fact that, as far as Denmark knew, it didn't "mean" anything. Usually when someone woke up as something they were not meant to be, the cause could be traced back to another nation's zany misadventures.
So then, Denmark supposed, he had the day to figure out how to disguise himself well enough so as not to cause alarm until he got word as to whose experiment gone horribly wrong he'd fallen victim to this time.
Starting with his clothes, he thought, forlornly poking one breast through where it pulled strangely at the buttons of his sleep shirt. Not being naive, he resolved to google crossdressing after washing the dishes.
* * *
"Not complaining," Sweden said as he cuddled into Finland's side, now 100% sure his wife had had a girlfriend in the period they were estranged, not that he was jealous, "but 'm still a woman."
"Maybe I forgot to mention," he answered lightly, "They usually have lots and lots of sex before it works."
Sweden pushed himself up to loom over Finland, one hand on either side of his head. He narrowed his eyes as if to say, "Yer teasing me."
Finland, however, looked a little dazed. Expression soft, he breathed, "You're gorgeous."
Unable to stop the surprise in his eyes or the blush, Sweden froze at the compliment.
"Not that you're not handsome normally," Finland rushed to stammer, "You're always really hot, I mean."
To stop his wife from misinterpreting his reaction any further, he leaned down and kissed Finland sweetly, slowly, deliberately.
* * *
It was a huge relief to have the ground back where he expected it to be, or so Denmark thought as he left the shoe store. He'd bought a pair of black boots with wide heels that made up the height he'd lost without making him feel like he was going to fall over like some of the thinner heels he'd tried.
They were the last things on the list of supplies he'd put together using the guidance of the internet. He had guessed a little at the make up, but he wasn't too worried, because he was going to have to hide his adorable-but-quite-girlish cheeks, which had rounded out his face beyond the ability of cosmetics to restore.
Still, he was confident there would be no problem. He pulled scarf up higher around his face and headed for home to see how well he could pull off being himself.
* * *
It was the loud gurgle of Sweden's stomach that finally got the two of them out of bed for a shower and then what was fast becoming lunch. Finland laughter was cut short, however, as he rushed forward to catch Sweden after his first unsteady step.
"You okay? Dizzy?"
He shook his head, standing himself back up but not letting go of Finland's steady arms. It reminded him of when his wife had taught him to skate. "Ground's not where it should be."
"Now that you mention it," Finland said, looking up at Sweden speculatively, "You don't seem to be towering as much as you usually do."
Sweden tried taking another step, but fell again. He made a noise of frustration.
With a fond smile, Finland knelt down and told Sweden he'd carry him piggyback. "Too bad there's not a wife carrying competition today," he joked, but Sweden heard the wistfulness hidden underneath. He wasn't opposed to it in general, but.
"'M too big," Sweden mumbled sullenly against Finland's shoulder.
"Huh?"
"Know you've always wanted to run one. Rules say you can carry a friend's wife. Don't have many married friends, but maybe you could borrow Austria?"
Finland was silent for a long moment. "I know I'm probably wasting my breath, but men aren't wives. Also, Austria and Hungary are divorced."
Sweden didn't even acknowledge he had said anything.
Sighing deeply in resignation, Finland set Sweden down in the bathroom where he could grab the sink if he thought he was going to fall again. "We should probably put your hair up."
Nodding, Sweden said, "'ll call someone with long hair tomorrow 'f yer plan doesn't work."
Finland smirked for a moment, then said, "I'll go get some string or something to tie the ends off with," and left.
Slightly afraid of letting go of the sink, Sweden turned to look for his comb, and caught his first glimpse of his reflection. He could see why Finland hadn't recognized him at first, especially with the oodles of tresses falling everywhere. It seemed impossible a person could have so much hair, but then, the hair was probably the least unbelievable facet of his transformation. Transfixed by the mirror was how Finland returned to find him.
"You haven't started."
"Uh," Sweden said, picking up the comb and clumsily pulling it through his long locks, getting tangled in them before he could contort himself properly to reach all the way to the end.
"As hilarious as this is to watch," Finland cut in, stifling giggles, "how about I help you?"
Sweden's expression crumpled in embarrassment, but he handed over the comb and let himself be led to sit on the lid of the toilet. It was simultaneously nice and strange, having Finland hum to himself as he worked the knots out of his hair and parted it in two.
"Here," Finland said, handing Sweden half of his hair. "You braid this side, and I'll do the other."
"Uh," Sweden said again. "Don't know how," he admitted.
Finland made a noise that was simultaneously exasperated and fond. "I can't believe someone who's lived as long as you have can't do a simple braid."
Sweden shrugged, and the pair fell back into silence. As he tied the end of the first braid with the string Finland had brought, he said, "Hungary carried Austria."
"What?"
"At Halloween."
"Sve," Finland said, and Sweden knew to let the subject drop. He didn't say anything as his wife pulled his braids up into milkmaid style. "There you go. You look just like Mother Svea."
Sweden turned and gave him a look.
"Okay, maybe not 'just like,'" Finland hedged.
He kept looking.
"Okay, nothing like her at all!" Flustered, Finland began to inch away. "You just have a shower, and--" He was cut off by Sweden reaching out and snatching his wrist before he could get far at all. "Or, we could take a shower together."
Apparently satisfied, Sweden stood and pulled him along, leading the way with shaky steps.
* * *
After checking his e-mail for what seemed like the hundredth time to find no mention of anything like his problem in his inbox, Denmark was beginning to get frustrated. It did occur to him other nations who had been affected might also be trying to wait it out without owning up to it, but at the very least there should have been an apology from whomever had done it. There was no way he could be the only one.
Either way, it was hard to wait when everything about his body felt so wrong. He had quite a few mirrors in his home to make it look bigger and brighter, but for the first time he regretted it, because he couldn't seem to escape the face that was his but wasn't. His new hair tickled his neck, and his new hands looked too small against the book he was trying to concentrate on. Everything was getting under his skin in that it was literally his skin that was bothering him.
Sighing, he gave up on reading and leaned back in his armchair, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind.
* * *
When Finland hit the alarm clock bright and early Monday morning, it took him almost no time at all to gather his wits and steel himself before turning over to see what the morning had brought for Sweden.
"Morning," Sweden rumbled in his familiar bass, completely back to normal.
"Oh good, it worked!"
"Sounds like you didn't think it would," Sweden teased.
"Well, we did get the idea from fanfic on the internet," Finland said, giving his boyfriend a good morning kiss. "But you're lucky you had me to suggest it."
"Thank you," Sweden said, half-sincerely, half joining in Finland's laughter. "Who knows what would have happened otherwise."
"There's always someone who gets stuck for weeks because they can't get over their issues regarding the person they clearly have massive UST with," he agreed.
"UST?"
Finland just laughed. "Remind me to show you TV Tropes wiki next time I go away on business."
Sweden shrugged and followed Finland in getting up and ready for work.