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1 December, 1966. Gävle City, Gävleborg län, Sweden
The Christmas Market was winding down by 18:00. Darkness had already fallen over Gävle hours ago, and it was overcast, spitting snow. Timo shifted his backpack on his shoulders. It had been empty when he and Berwald had gotten on the train, but it was now heavy with the fruits of Christmas shopping. Yarn for Lukas, more books for Emil. His cheeks were rosy from the cold and glögg. “That’s everything I wanted. Did you want to get anything else?”
Berwald shook his head.
The center of Gävle was wonderfully walkable, and there were few cars on the road. Kalma, Timo’s little bichon frise, trotted at her master’s heels, so lively that one would never guess they’d been walking all afternoon. The Christmas market merchants were packing up their goods and folding up their tables.
“How many autographs do you think we signed?” Timo asked.
“Too many.” Berwald hated curious humans and autograph requests. He seldom received them in Östersund — everyone knew he lived there, but it was inevitable once he walked into a public space in another city. But perhaps he was lucky — humans who wanted his autograph usually wanted Timo’s too, and Timo was happy to do most of the talking,
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, was it, pet? It was probably like forty. Fifty at most. Much better than in Stockholm, right?”
“Mmm.”
“And this counts as a public appearance, right? That should get the Riksdag off your back for a while. Or at least a week or two.” That was true. The Riksdag was always urging Berwald to spend more time in the capital, to shake more hands and to pose for the camera alongside visiting dignitaries. It was good for international relationships, they said. Berwald knew they were right, but that didn’t make it any more enjoyable.
They were in the central square right now. A small lawn filled the middle of it, and in the middle of that stood an enormous straw goat, bound with red cables and standing a full thirteen meters tall. It had been constructed by the Gävle fire department, meant to drum up tourism. They’d even brought in flood lights, and now it was the brightest thing in the immediate area, a behemoth watching over the city. The execution was impressive, but secretly, Ber doubted anyone outside of Gävleborg län would ever care about it.
“Oh, I think it’s charming,” Timo said, as if he’d read Berwald’s mind. “It’s so wacky, it’s practically seared into my mind now.” He seemed to want to linger and admire it. They stood there, back to the wind in the most-empty square. “Our train leaves at 19:45, right?” Timo looked at his watch.
Berwald nodded. Instinctively, he put a hand to the breast pocket of his greatcoat, making sure their tickets were still there.
“Sweet. That gives us time to get dinner. Want to see if that little husman place on Kungsgatan is still there?”
“Sure.” Berwald was still mostly full from nutella churros, but half a palt might be just what he needed.
Kungsgatan was on the other side of the square, so they cut across the grass, walking within a few meters of the goat. There was a ladder, Berwald noticed, propped up against the goat’s rear end. The upper end rested by its tail.
“Huh.” Timo looked the ladder up and down. “Must belong to the fire department.” Just as he said it, movement stirred in the straw above them. A door opened in the goat’s behind, two humans climbed out and started down the ladder. Berwald recognized the fire department’s insignia on their coats.
“Hello!” Timo waved and Kalma tugged at her leash, eager to go say hello. “Still working on the goat at this hour?”
“Just making sure everything’s snug in place,” said one of the humans. She smiled at Kalma. “Your puppy is adorable. Can I pet her?”
“Of course.”
Once Kalma had been sufficiently cooed over, the firefighters went off, leaving the ladder in place. On Kungsgatan, the husman restaurant was still there. Berwald nibbled on a single palt over the course of an hour, while Timo tucked into a plate of pyttipana with eggs and red beets, washed down with vodka. If animals weren’t supposed to be allowed in the restaurant, nobody was bothering to enforce it. Timo held Kalma in his lap, feeding her pieces of egg from his fingers. The conversation turned to his birthday, less than two weeks away.
“I figured we could play charades? Everyone likes that, right? And it doesn’t take too much brain power for when everyone’s hammered. And we’ll need a prize for the winners. Lottery tickets, maybe? Watch, as soon as I give one away, it’ll hit the jackpot.” Timo tossed back half a shot and sat back in his chair, one hand resting on his stomach. “Will you need help with the menu planning?”
Berwald shook his head. “Planning’s done.”
Timo whistled. “Of course you’re on top of things. But don’t stress over it, okay? Not everything needs to be made from scratch. I’d be perfectly content with a cake from a cake mix.”
“I’d never.” Berwald shuddered.
“I figured you wouldn’t.” Timo took Berwald’s hand and gave it a squeeze, small and lightning quick, so the humans wouldn’t stare. “But I wanted to make sure that you knew that you could. I’ll know it’s made with love either way.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Am not. I’m just honest.” Timo paused for a second, smiling, before catching the eye of a passing waiter. “Can we get the check, please? We’re paying together.”
Back outside, the night had gone still. Thick cloud cover remained, but not a breath of air stirred. The quiet was only penetrated by their footsteps, and even Kalma trotted politely at heel.
“Look,” Timo said as they passed the goat. “The ladder’s still there. Do you think they forgot it?”
Berwald shrugged. It didn’t seem likely, but humans had been known to forget more important things.
The train station proved to be as quiet as the street. The few other passengers sat still on the benches, and nobody seemed to be buying anything at the Pressbyrån. It was 19:37, and the sign said that the train to Uppsala would leave from platform 2. Berwald and Timo found a pair of open seats. No point in going back into the cold until the last possible second. At 19:43, they finally roused themselves and went out to the platform. The train had not yet arrived. Timo cradled Kalma in his arms like a baby. She barely stirred.
19:45. 19:55. Berwald hated standing still and began to pace about a little. A nervous-looking human watched him, but didn’t seem to recognize him. “Are you two going to Uppsala?”
“We sure are,” said Timo.
20:00. 20:10.
“I’m going inside to ask about this,” Timo said. “Something must’ve happened. Here, hold Kalma, will you?”
Kalma must’ve been well and truly exhausted, because she allowed herself to be handed off without whining. A moment later, Timo returned, frowning. “Man at the desk says a ninety minute delay. Well, ninety more minutes. They’re having mechanical trouble or something.” He heaved a sign and ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck. I hate waiting.” A note of agitation crept into his voice. “Kalma’s going to be so cranky tomorrow. An absolute wreck. And you know, I wanted to fuck tonight.”
“Keep your voice down,” said Berwald.
Timo pouted but continued in a whisper. “Well, I did.”
“We’ll have time tomorrow.” Berwald offered a hand, but Timo crossed his arms and didn’t seem to notice.
“Ugh, and I don’t want to sit in those stupid station chairs for an hour and a half. They barely give you any back support. You want to go somewhere and come back?”
Berwald would’ve loved to cozy up in a library, but they’d all be closed. “Not a bar.”
“Yeah, not tonight. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve had enough, I know my limits.”
“You’re getting loud,” Berwald said.
Timo huffed but dropped his voice. “No bars. I promise. Here, give me Kalma. There’s got to be an open coffee shop somewhere. At least they’ll have better chairs. And lussebullar that haven’t been sitting out in Pressbyrån all day. C’mon, let’s go.”
Berwald wasn’t certain they would find a coffee shop, but wandering was better than waiting. He followed Timo into the street.
The first three coffee shops were indeed closed, but at least the walking warmed them. Berwald undid the first button of his coat, and Timo unzipped his altogether. Eventually, they found themselves back at the square with the goat. The ladder was still there, and the door stood ajar, just enough that Berwald could see the gap.
“Well, look at you.” Timo fixed his eyes on the goat and huffed a sigh. “We came all this way to see you and now we're stuck. You're the reason we're not home and cozy in bed.”
The goat did not respond. Berwald thought about smiling, but that would be too embarrassing. The four of them – Berwald, Timo, Kalma, and the goat – all stood in silence for a moment.
“You wanna go up there and bang?” Timo said suddenly.
“What?” Berwald blinked in confusion.
Timo turned and locked eyes with him. “Let's go up in the goat and have a good screw. The ladder's there. The door is open. It's shelter. Why not?”
A thousand reasons why not flickered through Berwald's mind, so many that he couldn't articulate any of them. Timo took his hand and gave it a little tug. “What're you waiting for? Come on.”
“We'll get caught.” That sounded pathetic, even as Berwald said it.
“Really? This late? There's nobody around.”
“The ladder…”
“The fire department's forgotten it. Seriously, do you really think they're still going to be tacking down straw at this hour?”
Berwald could hardly argue with that. “It'll be dark.”
“You have a flashlight, don't you? I know you carry one.”
A flashlight was indeed tucked in one of the inner pockets of Berwald's greatcoat. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move.
Timo stopped tugging and pouted. “Well, okay. If you don't want to, we won't. But I just want you to know – I'd be really, really happy if we did.”
Fuck. Berwald was probably going to regret this, but how could he resist those puppy eyes? “Well…”
“Is that a yes? That's the spirit, mussukka.” Timo pressed a quick peck to Berwald's cheek and practically dragged him towards the goat. Putting Kalma in his backpack, he scurried up the ladder with surprisingly agility. He wasn't that nimble on the ground, Berwald noticed. Maybe it was just a matter of motivation. Once Timo had vanished into the goat, Berwald started climbing.
The goat's torso was tall enough for Berwald to stand straight. He flipped on the flashlight and looked around. The goat's skeleton was made of wooden beams. Everything else was straw, lashed down with wire.
“Not bad.” Timo examined the straw beneath his feet, then reached out to touch the wall. “And it smells so good. Reminds me of old times.”
Which old times? Helping with the harvest before Christianization? Or the hay loft in Røskilde, during the Kalmar Union? They'd often slipped up there to hold hands and cuddle, too shy and chaste to kiss. Or maybe it reminded Timo of the straw ticks in a thousand inns, when they were traipsing all over the North and building the Swedish Empire.
“It makes me feel young again, don't you think?” Timo never would've been bold enough to do this in his youth, but Berwald nodded. Removing Kalma from his backpack, Timo set her off to the side, where she curled up like a doughnut, content to nap.
“Come here.” Timo stepped up Berwald, grabbing his lapels. “Kiss me. Let's feel young again.”
The inside of the goat was so cold that their breath frosted before them, but Timo's lips and tongue were searing hot. Berwald couldn't help but lean into the kiss.
“Good boy,” Timo said once they'd pulled away. “You like that, don't you?” His hands worked their way over Berwald's buttons, undoing one after another, before yanking the coat from Berwald's shoulders. “Give me this. I don't want straw scratching my back.” As if Berwald could bring himself to resist.
Timo spread the coat by their feet, lining side up, then pulled off his shirt, pale skin all but glowing in the dim light. Berwald could feel the heat radiating off him. Or maybe that was just in his head. Cold had never bothered Timo, and he quickly shed his jeans and briefs. “What're you waiting for? Strip! Or do I need to do it for you?”
“It's cold.” Maybe Timo ran warm, but this was too much for Berwald.
“Such a wimp,” Timo teased. “You've gone soft in the age of central heating. Remember the 1600s? It was way colder then, and we never let that stop us.” This was true, but they'd never fucked without a fire.
“Fine,” Timo went on, rolling his eyes a little. “I suppose you can pull your pants down. But I'm being cheated, I'll have you know. I'll have to spank you later, when you're naked. No satisfaction if I can't see your ass turn red.”
By this point, Berwald's face had grown so hot that it was probably glowing in the dark. “You like thinking about that, don't you?” Timo said. “But that's for later.” He settled on Berwald's coat, bunching up his own sweater for a pillow. “For now, get over here.” He folded his coat and tucked it under his hips.
For a moment, Berwald allowed himself an indulgent pause, looking Timo up and down. There were scars on Timo's left calf (old landmine accident) and right wrist (compound fracture at Ivan's hands.) His belly was round and soft, with faded stretch marks and loose skin from weight fluctuations, and his thighs were dimpled with cellulite. Berwald had never seen a lovelier nation.
“Stop ogling. I'm waiting over here.” Timo raised his head to glare at Berwald. “A late train doesn't mean we have all night.”
Berwald knelt in the straw, pressed a kiss to Timo's lips, and started working his way down, lavishing attention on Timo's neck and chest. His hands cupped Timo's love handles and traced the curve of his hips.
“That's it. Good boy. My dear old moose.” Timo's voice slipped into softness even as he seized a handful of Berwald's hair. Berwald's hair was fine as a baby's and thinning at the temples, but Timo still managed an iron grip. He shoved Berwald's head down, directing him to his thighs. “Admit it. You'll do anything for me.”
Berwald nodded.
“Oh, don't play mute.” Timo's voice went harsh again. “Say it.”
“I'll do anything for you.” The words came out as a whisper. Berwald tried again, louder. “Anything.”
In the straw beside them, Kalma stirred a little. Oh well. A spayed dog didn't have any concept of sex anyway.
“Good boy. Now suck me off.”
Berwald dutifully took Timo's cock into his mouth and got to work. A sharp intake of breath from Timo turned into groans and squeals. “That's it. Good. Keep going.”
Berwald redoubled his efforts. Kalma growled.
“Relax, little lady,” Timo said. “Nothing to be worried about here. It's good and natural, and–”
Just then, the door popped open. Cold air rushed in and hit the back of Berwald's neck. He pulled away from Timo and looked over his shoulder. Two humans stood at the threshold. Berwald recognized one of them as the chief of the Gävle fire department. They'd posed together for a photo op not six hours early.
For a moment, everyone was silent, staring at each other. It was only broken when Kalma yipped and ran over to the humans for pets.
The fire chief looked at his companion. “So, do you want to do the write-up for this one?” He gave Kalma's head an indulgent pat.
“No. Not really.”
The fire chief sighed, looking from Berwald to Timo and back again. Berwald could hear his heart pounding in his ears and realized his hands were shaking. Timo reached back for his sweater and slowly put it on, as if afraid to make any sudden movements.
“Jesus christ.” The fire chief sounded so tired. “If you were teenagers, I'd take you home to your parents and explain just what you'd been doing. But you two…you're much too old for this nonsense. We build a goat and immediately, people are making stupid trouble. Do we need a fence and security cameras? In Sweden?” He looked directly at Berwald. “Well, do we?”
“No, sir.” Berwald looked down at his lap. If he had to look the fire chief in the face, he would certainly keel over dead from embarrassment.
“That's right. We don't. Now put your pants on, Mr. Finland. Don't think I don't see you, too. Then get yourselves out of here while I'm feeling generous.”
“Wait,” said the second human. “You're just going to let them go?”
“Well, do you want this in the papers? They'd make a fuss of it, and everyone would laugh when they heard the name Gävle. Do we really want to be known as the city where Sweden blew Finland inside the goat?”
“Well, no.”
“Exactly.”
Meanwhile, Timo zipped his jeans and fumbled for his shoes, then grabbed Kalma and his backpack. He scurried down the ladder with the same surprising agility. Berwald followed as quickly as he could. Once they were on the ground, he took Timo by the elbow, all but ready to drag him away.
“Oh, great.” Timo looked over his shoulder. “Now they're staring at us. Watching us go.”
“You don't say.”
“Well, what're they waiting for? For us to do something else?”
Was there any point in saying yes? They rounded a corner and away from the humans’ eyes, Berwald let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His heart was settling, but his legs had gone wobbly.
“Are you okay?” Timo peered up at Berwald's face. “You've gone pale.”
“Just need to sit.” The words came out wobbly, too. “Just a minute.”
“Come on, I've got you.” Timo guided Berwald to a bench. “It's good. We're fine, I promise. Deep breaths.”
Berwald closed his eyes and for a moment or two, he tried to focus on exactly that. Timo took Berwald's hand, rubbed his wrist. “Perkele. Now that we're away… that probably gave you a good rattling, didn't it? I'd laugh it off if it were just me, but fuck, I'm so sorry. I really didn't think anyone would walk in. I should've realized, though. You were right. There was no way they'd forgotten the ladder.”
Berwald nodded.
“If you're angry with me, well, I probably deserve it, don't I?”
Was Berwald angry? Now that the panic had subsided and his breathing had leveled, was anger supposed to bubble up in its place? Before he knew it, a little chuckle rumbled up from somewhere deep in his chest. The whole thing was so absurd. What could he do but laugh?
“I'm not angry,” said Berwald. “I went along with it. But let's never do that again. Ever.”
The tension drained from Timo's face and his expression softened. “You're right. Never again. We can find better ways to feel young. Are you feeling better? The color's back in your face.”
“Yeah.” Berwald got to his feet.
“I'm sorry. I really am. I just wanted to say it again.”
Berwald wasn't sure if he ought to thank Timo for the apology or tell him that he didn't need to apologize. “It’s okay. Let's just get home and then we can laugh about it some more later.”
Timo nodded. “Thank you, mussukka. I suppose we still do have a train to catch.”
With that, they headed back towards the station.