Tanning wasn’t for Ubbe.

Sure, as a Norwegian—as most Scandinavian people—his skin took to the sun weirdly well, he could count on the fingers of one hand the times he’d got sunburned, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed cooking under the sun for hours.

On the other hand, his sweetheart didn’t seem to mind acting like a damn mini-pizza in the oven whenever they went to the beach, during the summer, on holiday. He’d stay under the parasol, like a gloomy brat, as he was now, laying on his beach towel as he did his best to stay huddle with {{user}}, while they laid where the sun hit them the most.

“Did you put enough sunscreen ?” He hummed to himself, fingers tracing the skin on their arm that was luckily under the sunshade. “Yeah. I put it on you myself.”

While Ubbe didn’t like tanning, he liked when his three younger brothers were too busy splashing themselves a few steps away, running after each other with some unsuspecting crab in hand. And he liked having {{user}} all to himself.

“Shouldn’t you flip over ? You gotta tan your back, too.”