So, today I wanted to write with PortFin about a solidarity movement from 1940, but then I realised that it was more political than solidarity and give up.
Then @fukurodamn suggested SuPort/SwePort and here I’m with it. :’3
Also, I just notice that, except Sebastugal, all I have write is platonic. At least it’s cute. xD
Please, enjoy!
After a few weeks of travel, the Berwald's vessel docked in the port of Lisbon. His purpose was simple: to buy salt from Afonso. He and the Portuguese had trade agreements, though it was far more advantageous to him than to the darker haired man. After all, his products were more expensive than those of the Portuguese, then he profited more.
At last, the Nordic waited for Afonso; as usual, he was late. The Portuguese were already reputed to be late for their appointments, but Berwald had never imagined it was more than half an hour. Meanwhile, the blond watched the clouds forming in the sky; a storm was coming, he was sure.
"Sorry, I'm late!"
Berwald looked away from the sky and looked at Afonso, who was with his usual smile. The Nordic suspected that it was a false smile, formed only to hide lived sufferings; after so many centuries of existence as an observer, Berwald could notice in these small details. But he said nothing. He merely nodded his head.
"I have sent my men to carry the salt to your vessel," began Afonso. One thing the Norse had never understood was that blind trust the Portuguese had in him. Afonso always ordered to load the goods before receiving the agreed money. He could very well circumvent it and not to pay for the shipment, but it seemed that such a scenario didn't pass through the head of the Lusitanian.
Although Berwald would never do this to the other though, it would go against his ideals. He held out the money, which was the exact amount agreed, and Afonso took it. He didn't even bother to check if there was the agreed amount or not.
Honestly, Berwald didn't understand.
"There's a storm coming," said Afonso, although he knew the other should know about it already.
"Huhum."
"I imagine you'll be ashore tonight."
"It's for the best..."
"Do you want to stay in my house?"
The Swedish was perplexed by such proposal. Were they close enough to be invited to spend the night in the other's house? No, wait, maybe it was cultural. Would it be rude to refuse? He was too embarrassed to even think how to answer; he wasn't used to it. He nodded his head positively, a little shyly.
And then he noticed that Afonso's smile had become a true one.
