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Woodsmoke and Moonlight [Canada/Norway]
Title: Woodsmoke and Moonlight
Characters/Pairing: Canada/Norway
Rating: 15+
Length: 1600
Summary: Canada and Norway go camping together. Sequel to L'Anse Aux Memory.
Other: Written for the Hetalia kink meme. (Original post)
Woodsmoke and Moonlight
The fire flickered red and orange and devoured the sturdy poplar logs, sending fragrant woodsmoke lazily spiralling skyward. Norway prodded into it with the poker, adjusted the pan’s position, then leaned backward and watched as the delicate fish sizzled, cooking with pepper and berries.
Only an hour ago he and Canada had been out on the lake. Norway dragged lines while Canada sent the canoe gliding through the cool green water. The sound of evening birds could be heard, their songs mixing with the sound of water dripping from the edge of the paddle as they moved slowly, carefully. Every so often Canada would pause in his paddling and take up a line too, and they waited together in silence, exchanging glances now and then. Canada had been teasing him, hinting that he bet Norway wouldn’t land a catch first. To that, Norway’s only reply was a flicker of the eyes accompanied by a faint smile. It was a look that said, “Just you wait and see”.
It wasn’t long before a tug at his line made it clear that Norway would win that bet. He drew it in to the sound of Canada’s good-natured groaning, and when they finally had the trout secured in a cooler at the bottom of the boat, Norway looked at his companion and said with a smile, “I win.”
“Y’sure do.” Canada shook his head, grinning broadly. “Again. What’s your secret?”
“If I told you,” Norway replied as he wound up his line with the ease of an expert angler, “It wouldn’t be a secret. Would it?”
Canada offered no disagreement to that, and with a sigh he took up his paddle again, turning the canoe toward the place on the lakeshore where they had set up camp.
That had been their early evening. As dusk began to fall, Norway tended to the fire and what would soon be their supper, and listened to the sound of Canada tramping around in the bush, gathering a bit of extra wood for the night. Soon he emerged, his arms cradling thick sturdy branches, his hair stuck through with pine needles. Norway offered him a nod and in greeting said, “Nearly done.”
“Good,” was Canada’s reply. “Could smell it from all th’way over there. Set my mouth watering.” He sighed and set his load in the pile with the rest, then sank down beside Norway, tired but happy.
They exchanged few other words, finding no need for small talk. When Canada’s long, weathered fingers brushed his own, Norway neither spoke nor offered resistance. Instead he knit their fingers together and smiled at him. He thought that it would be invisible in the dim light, but much to his surprise the younger nation’s face brightened and a wide smile appeared on his lips, warm and affectionate. Norway quickly looked away in spite of himself, his insides twisting in a not unpleasant way. The hold on his hand loosened and a long arm slid around his shoulders. Norway sighed, curled up against the younger nation’s side, and stared at the flickering fire.
Later, when they had filled themselves with the fruits of Norway’s angling and doused the fire with sand and soil, they found the sky was still bright. As he walked with Canada on the lake’s pebbly shore Norway watched as the sky turned rose and plum, the sun sinking low beneath the black tree line. Canada spoke on, talking quietly of meetings and business and things the both of them would have to tend to when they returned to ‘civilization’. Norway let it go in one ear and out the other, only half-listening. He didn’t want to talk about it, even think of it. When Canada had suggested they spend some time together, head off to the middle of nowhere in northern Alberta, hours away from anything, Norway had jumped at the chance. He needed the peace, the silence - ... silence.
“Canada.” When his companion didn’t stop speaking, Norway spoke louder. “Canada. A word, please?”
“Yeah?” The response came quickly, and Norway saw when he glanced at him that the request had been unexpected. He stopped walking, and Canada stopped too.
“Canada.” Norway reached up and casually pulled a few pine needles out of his companion’s hair. “I thought your brother was the noisy one.” As Canada’s eyes widened until he looked much like a deer caught in headlights, Norway restrained a smile. Funny, he thought, how the kid is so easily affected.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it-“
“Shhh.” He pressed two fingers to Canada’s lips, and that time he did smile. “A joke.” His quiet words were dwarfed by the sound of the wind rustling in the trees. “It was a joke.”
“Ah.”
Norway’s hand fell and he watched Canada for a moment. In the dim light he could see his expression was awkward and sheepish, embarrassed at not having caught on. “You aren’t like him,” Norway said gently.
“No.” Canada shook his head. “I’m not.”
A pause. “You’re not like a lot of people.”
“What do you mean?”
Norway didn’t reply. He turned to the lake and looked out to watch as the last bit of light slipping through the trees and reflecting on the water. The loons on the lake’s surface were black shadows, their mournful calls chilling. When Norway did speak, it was only to say, “You’re not like most people I know.” He drew in a deep breath, relished the scent of pine and fresh air, then turned to Canada again. “Getting late,” he said. “Should go back.”
“Yeah.”
“... Yes.”
It seemed like forever since they had met in grassy L’anse Aux Meadows. That had been a strange time, and they had barely known one another. Yet their stay in Newfoundland had brought them together, first through the visit to the site and the road trip across the island, then the blissful week they spent in St. John’s. They had formed a bond neither of them had expected, and though they did not talk about it, it seemed they both understood and appreciated it. Other trips had drawn them together as they spent more time away from everything, enjoying each other’s company. It had quickly grown to be something beyond just friendly relations, Norway reflected as he readied himself for bed. A strange situation. Strange, but good.
He tilted his head and listened, his hands stilling in their action of stuffing the day’s clothes in a duffel bag. Outside the tent he could hear Canada taking one last look through the camp, ensuring everything was sound and that there was nothing to tempt nosy wildlife.
After a short while he appeared, slinking into the tent and drawing the flaps shut behind him. “We’re good,” Canada said cheerfully, setting his lantern aside.
“Are we?” Norway asked, quirking an eyebrow at his companion’s phrasing, a small smile crossing his lips.
“Yep. All sound.”
In the dim lantern light Norway watched as Canada drew off his shoes and set about removing his clothes. Norway turned off his own lantern, then drew close. “No sense in using both lamps.”
“No.”
Canada was watching him, the yellow light reflecting on his spectacles, his hands deftly unbuttoning his light cotton shirt. Norway could see a slight tremor in his hands, an unspoken question. It was a hint, and Norway decided to take it.
“Let me,” he mumbled as he drew closer, his hands rising up to work at the buttons. Canada yielded to it, and when Norway kissed him he yielded to that, too. Steady, nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons, then slipped the light fabric from his shoulders. Norway settled in his lap without a word and they pressed together, soundless except for the rustle of fabric and the occasional content sigh.
It was familiar and good and right. There was no other way to describe the gestures, the movements, the brush of lips and tongue and the sensation of skin on skin and the friction as they rocked together, shifting and pressing. His fingers tangled in Canada’s hair, tightened and tugged as he kissed him. Surely it would be a knotted mess in the end, but there would be no complaints. There were no complaints either about the way Canada’s glasses jostled and bumped as they kissed, or the fact that their movements made them both far too warm. Norway nipped his lover’s lower lip and suppressed a groan as movement and friction sent tremors through the both of them. He didn’t mind Canada’s fumbling hands, and in fact appreciated the way they slid over his thighs, along his hips, drew him close. It was good.
Slow. Steady. In the last moment they clung to each other, their gasps muffled by tender, bruised mouths.
They lingered, shivering, shifting as the last tremors ebbed away. Norway rested his head against Canada’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck, pressing a kiss there. Eventually they both caught their breath and recovered, coming to the slow realization that they were both very warm and sweaty, among other things.
Emerging from the tent, they made their way down to the lakeshore. They walked side by side and their steps cracked branches in the undergrowth. With their sandals tossed on the pebbly beach they bathed together in the cool water, the moon illuminating the surface with a soft, white light. Days later they would be leaving for the busy life again, but that thought was far from their minds. Lingering together, they enjoyed the peace and silence and the cool night air whispering over wet skin. There were no words. There was no need.
End.
Characters/Pairing: Canada/Norway
Rating: 15+
Length: 1600
Summary: Canada and Norway go camping together. Sequel to L'Anse Aux Memory.
Other: Written for the Hetalia kink meme. (Original post)
Woodsmoke and Moonlight
The fire flickered red and orange and devoured the sturdy poplar logs, sending fragrant woodsmoke lazily spiralling skyward. Norway prodded into it with the poker, adjusted the pan’s position, then leaned backward and watched as the delicate fish sizzled, cooking with pepper and berries.
Only an hour ago he and Canada had been out on the lake. Norway dragged lines while Canada sent the canoe gliding through the cool green water. The sound of evening birds could be heard, their songs mixing with the sound of water dripping from the edge of the paddle as they moved slowly, carefully. Every so often Canada would pause in his paddling and take up a line too, and they waited together in silence, exchanging glances now and then. Canada had been teasing him, hinting that he bet Norway wouldn’t land a catch first. To that, Norway’s only reply was a flicker of the eyes accompanied by a faint smile. It was a look that said, “Just you wait and see”.
It wasn’t long before a tug at his line made it clear that Norway would win that bet. He drew it in to the sound of Canada’s good-natured groaning, and when they finally had the trout secured in a cooler at the bottom of the boat, Norway looked at his companion and said with a smile, “I win.”
“Y’sure do.” Canada shook his head, grinning broadly. “Again. What’s your secret?”
“If I told you,” Norway replied as he wound up his line with the ease of an expert angler, “It wouldn’t be a secret. Would it?”
Canada offered no disagreement to that, and with a sigh he took up his paddle again, turning the canoe toward the place on the lakeshore where they had set up camp.
That had been their early evening. As dusk began to fall, Norway tended to the fire and what would soon be their supper, and listened to the sound of Canada tramping around in the bush, gathering a bit of extra wood for the night. Soon he emerged, his arms cradling thick sturdy branches, his hair stuck through with pine needles. Norway offered him a nod and in greeting said, “Nearly done.”
“Good,” was Canada’s reply. “Could smell it from all th’way over there. Set my mouth watering.” He sighed and set his load in the pile with the rest, then sank down beside Norway, tired but happy.
They exchanged few other words, finding no need for small talk. When Canada’s long, weathered fingers brushed his own, Norway neither spoke nor offered resistance. Instead he knit their fingers together and smiled at him. He thought that it would be invisible in the dim light, but much to his surprise the younger nation’s face brightened and a wide smile appeared on his lips, warm and affectionate. Norway quickly looked away in spite of himself, his insides twisting in a not unpleasant way. The hold on his hand loosened and a long arm slid around his shoulders. Norway sighed, curled up against the younger nation’s side, and stared at the flickering fire.
Later, when they had filled themselves with the fruits of Norway’s angling and doused the fire with sand and soil, they found the sky was still bright. As he walked with Canada on the lake’s pebbly shore Norway watched as the sky turned rose and plum, the sun sinking low beneath the black tree line. Canada spoke on, talking quietly of meetings and business and things the both of them would have to tend to when they returned to ‘civilization’. Norway let it go in one ear and out the other, only half-listening. He didn’t want to talk about it, even think of it. When Canada had suggested they spend some time together, head off to the middle of nowhere in northern Alberta, hours away from anything, Norway had jumped at the chance. He needed the peace, the silence - ... silence.
“Canada.” When his companion didn’t stop speaking, Norway spoke louder. “Canada. A word, please?”
“Yeah?” The response came quickly, and Norway saw when he glanced at him that the request had been unexpected. He stopped walking, and Canada stopped too.
“Canada.” Norway reached up and casually pulled a few pine needles out of his companion’s hair. “I thought your brother was the noisy one.” As Canada’s eyes widened until he looked much like a deer caught in headlights, Norway restrained a smile. Funny, he thought, how the kid is so easily affected.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it-“
“Shhh.” He pressed two fingers to Canada’s lips, and that time he did smile. “A joke.” His quiet words were dwarfed by the sound of the wind rustling in the trees. “It was a joke.”
“Ah.”
Norway’s hand fell and he watched Canada for a moment. In the dim light he could see his expression was awkward and sheepish, embarrassed at not having caught on. “You aren’t like him,” Norway said gently.
“No.” Canada shook his head. “I’m not.”
A pause. “You’re not like a lot of people.”
“What do you mean?”
Norway didn’t reply. He turned to the lake and looked out to watch as the last bit of light slipping through the trees and reflecting on the water. The loons on the lake’s surface were black shadows, their mournful calls chilling. When Norway did speak, it was only to say, “You’re not like most people I know.” He drew in a deep breath, relished the scent of pine and fresh air, then turned to Canada again. “Getting late,” he said. “Should go back.”
“Yeah.”
“... Yes.”
It seemed like forever since they had met in grassy L’anse Aux Meadows. That had been a strange time, and they had barely known one another. Yet their stay in Newfoundland had brought them together, first through the visit to the site and the road trip across the island, then the blissful week they spent in St. John’s. They had formed a bond neither of them had expected, and though they did not talk about it, it seemed they both understood and appreciated it. Other trips had drawn them together as they spent more time away from everything, enjoying each other’s company. It had quickly grown to be something beyond just friendly relations, Norway reflected as he readied himself for bed. A strange situation. Strange, but good.
He tilted his head and listened, his hands stilling in their action of stuffing the day’s clothes in a duffel bag. Outside the tent he could hear Canada taking one last look through the camp, ensuring everything was sound and that there was nothing to tempt nosy wildlife.
After a short while he appeared, slinking into the tent and drawing the flaps shut behind him. “We’re good,” Canada said cheerfully, setting his lantern aside.
“Are we?” Norway asked, quirking an eyebrow at his companion’s phrasing, a small smile crossing his lips.
“Yep. All sound.”
In the dim lantern light Norway watched as Canada drew off his shoes and set about removing his clothes. Norway turned off his own lantern, then drew close. “No sense in using both lamps.”
“No.”
Canada was watching him, the yellow light reflecting on his spectacles, his hands deftly unbuttoning his light cotton shirt. Norway could see a slight tremor in his hands, an unspoken question. It was a hint, and Norway decided to take it.
“Let me,” he mumbled as he drew closer, his hands rising up to work at the buttons. Canada yielded to it, and when Norway kissed him he yielded to that, too. Steady, nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons, then slipped the light fabric from his shoulders. Norway settled in his lap without a word and they pressed together, soundless except for the rustle of fabric and the occasional content sigh.
It was familiar and good and right. There was no other way to describe the gestures, the movements, the brush of lips and tongue and the sensation of skin on skin and the friction as they rocked together, shifting and pressing. His fingers tangled in Canada’s hair, tightened and tugged as he kissed him. Surely it would be a knotted mess in the end, but there would be no complaints. There were no complaints either about the way Canada’s glasses jostled and bumped as they kissed, or the fact that their movements made them both far too warm. Norway nipped his lover’s lower lip and suppressed a groan as movement and friction sent tremors through the both of them. He didn’t mind Canada’s fumbling hands, and in fact appreciated the way they slid over his thighs, along his hips, drew him close. It was good.
Slow. Steady. In the last moment they clung to each other, their gasps muffled by tender, bruised mouths.
They lingered, shivering, shifting as the last tremors ebbed away. Norway rested his head against Canada’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck, pressing a kiss there. Eventually they both caught their breath and recovered, coming to the slow realization that they were both very warm and sweaty, among other things.
Emerging from the tent, they made their way down to the lakeshore. They walked side by side and their steps cracked branches in the undergrowth. With their sandals tossed on the pebbly beach they bathed together in the cool water, the moon illuminating the surface with a soft, white light. Days later they would be leaving for the busy life again, but that thought was far from their minds. Lingering together, they enjoyed the peace and silence and the cool night air whispering over wet skin. There were no words. There was no need.
End.