You were enjoying a peaceful day off, sprawled on your couch with your laptop. At least, you were, until the sound of two distinct gunshots from your front yard caused you to jolt upright in alarm. You certainly suspected who was responsible, but you very much hoped that your suspicion was wrong. Why would Thurston be shooting at your house?

You flung open the front door and stormed outside (which probably would have resulted in your death if someone was shooting at your house).

"Thurston!" you shouted.

Sure enough, the Finnish nation was standing partway down your front walk, his rifle in hand and a scowl on his face. At the sound of your voice, he turned to look at you.

"What?" he asked curtly.

"What do you mean, 'what?'" you exploded. "You're the one out here shooting at things! What were you doing?!"

"You just said I was shooting at things," he snarked.

You resisted the urge to smack him. Despite being friends and the fact that you had a mega crush on him, he still managed to be a pain in the neck at least once per encounter.

"What were you shooting at?" you asked through gritted teeth.

"The man walking up to your door."

"What man?" You looked past Thurston and spotted several scattered envelopes on your sidewalk. "The postman, Thurston?! Why did you try to shoot my postman?!"

His face reddened slightly. "I didn't know he was your postman," he muttered. "I thought he was just some guy trying to come and see you."

You paused. "Why would you shoot someone trying to see me?" you asked slowly.

"Because I like you, and you should only be seeing me."

"First off," you huffed, putting your hand on your hip and brandishing a finger at him with the other hand, "I can see whoever I please. It's not up to you. Second off, someone coming to my house doesn't mean I'm dating them. Third off, if you like me so much, why haven't you said something before now? Think how much kissing I've missed out on just because you couldn't pluck up the courage to tell me."

He stared at you for a moment, then snorted under his breath and strapped his gun onto his back again before wrapping his arms around you.

"Trust me," he growled, "we'll make up for it."

And he kissed you.