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roesslyngTitle: A text message on a summer evening
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Romania/Norway
Rating: 10+
Length: ~600 words
Summary: Making plans, dancing around feelings.
Other: Companion to A phone call on a summer evening.
A text message on a summer evening
The call ended, and Romania tossed his phone onto the seat beside him. A moment later, the soft ping of a text message told him that Norway had sent his schedule. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled, letting the cigarette smoke drift skyward.
The air was hazy and warm. Bucharest had been too hot that day, and there were a few hours left before the sun would go down and make things a little more bearable.
He imagined Norway with him. Present. Sitting close, leaning against him the way he liked to. For all Norway acted cold and distant in public, he was the kind of guy who loved contact at the right time, in the right place, with the right person.
It was way too hot for that. The kind of heat that made skin-to-skin contact unpleasant and sticky, even with evening approaching. But Romania knew that if Norway wanted a cuddle, he'd let him, sweat or no sweat.
Another ping from the phone. Romania picked it up, glancing at Norway's second message.
I can change things on my end if these dates don't work for you.
So accommodating. A smug smirk tugged at Romania's lips before he took another drag on his cigarette, trying to decide how to respond. Though he hadn't known Norway long, he knew him well enough to find it hard to imagine that he would be so flexible with some other nations. Denmark or Sweden? No way. They'd get the dates after a delay, and an implied 'take it or leave it'.
As far as Romania was concerned, a little smugness was not out of place.
Romania grinned to himself as he remembered Norway's eager yes to his invitation. There were few words he liked hearing from him more than that one. And then there was the embarrassed little pause that followed, the stop and start, like he wasn't sure how to justify being so forward. Norway had been blushing up to his ears, probably.
He sent him a reply, deciding to keep it simple. That those dates were good for him. That he was looking forward to seeing him.
Norway's response was almost instantaneous.
I can hardly wait.
I'll bet, Romania thought.
He still wasn't sure how he had found himself such a focus in Norway's attention. It wasn't like he'd been trying to court him. All he'd done was ask him to dance.
But maybe it was a matter of saying the right thing at the right time. And being the right person, or maybe just not the wrong person.
Romania closed his eyes, letting the sounds of Bucharest wash over him. Not exactly a chorus of birdsong, but that was all right. He'd have the countryside in a few weeks, anyway. He could almost taste the mountain air, and feel Norway's hand holding his, those long bony fingers knitting with his own.
It would be like the time before. Norway, dressed down, hair mussed, smelling of sunscreen. At-ease. Quite different from his public self, and the quietly sharp and effortlessly immaculate image he projected. In private, Norway was a guy who was easy to like. Easy to miss, too.
Romania sighed. Ashed his cigarette. Tried to pack away the antsy, impatient feelings dancing around in his head. Norway had been eager, and that was surprising, but Romania couldn't deny that he felt the same way, and that surprised him a little too.
He wanted to see him now.
It wasn't that long to wait. Not in the grand scheme of things.
He could wait.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Romania/Norway
Rating: 10+
Length: ~600 words
Summary: Making plans, dancing around feelings.
Other: Companion to A phone call on a summer evening.
A text message on a summer evening
The call ended, and Romania tossed his phone onto the seat beside him. A moment later, the soft ping of a text message told him that Norway had sent his schedule. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled, letting the cigarette smoke drift skyward.
The air was hazy and warm. Bucharest had been too hot that day, and there were a few hours left before the sun would go down and make things a little more bearable.
He imagined Norway with him. Present. Sitting close, leaning against him the way he liked to. For all Norway acted cold and distant in public, he was the kind of guy who loved contact at the right time, in the right place, with the right person.
It was way too hot for that. The kind of heat that made skin-to-skin contact unpleasant and sticky, even with evening approaching. But Romania knew that if Norway wanted a cuddle, he'd let him, sweat or no sweat.
Another ping from the phone. Romania picked it up, glancing at Norway's second message.
I can change things on my end if these dates don't work for you.
So accommodating. A smug smirk tugged at Romania's lips before he took another drag on his cigarette, trying to decide how to respond. Though he hadn't known Norway long, he knew him well enough to find it hard to imagine that he would be so flexible with some other nations. Denmark or Sweden? No way. They'd get the dates after a delay, and an implied 'take it or leave it'.
As far as Romania was concerned, a little smugness was not out of place.
Romania grinned to himself as he remembered Norway's eager yes to his invitation. There were few words he liked hearing from him more than that one. And then there was the embarrassed little pause that followed, the stop and start, like he wasn't sure how to justify being so forward. Norway had been blushing up to his ears, probably.
He sent him a reply, deciding to keep it simple. That those dates were good for him. That he was looking forward to seeing him.
Norway's response was almost instantaneous.
I can hardly wait.
I'll bet, Romania thought.
He still wasn't sure how he had found himself such a focus in Norway's attention. It wasn't like he'd been trying to court him. All he'd done was ask him to dance.
But maybe it was a matter of saying the right thing at the right time. And being the right person, or maybe just not the wrong person.
Romania closed his eyes, letting the sounds of Bucharest wash over him. Not exactly a chorus of birdsong, but that was all right. He'd have the countryside in a few weeks, anyway. He could almost taste the mountain air, and feel Norway's hand holding his, those long bony fingers knitting with his own.
It would be like the time before. Norway, dressed down, hair mussed, smelling of sunscreen. At-ease. Quite different from his public self, and the quietly sharp and effortlessly immaculate image he projected. In private, Norway was a guy who was easy to like. Easy to miss, too.
Romania sighed. Ashed his cigarette. Tried to pack away the antsy, impatient feelings dancing around in his head. Norway had been eager, and that was surprising, but Romania couldn't deny that he felt the same way, and that surprised him a little too.
He wanted to see him now.
It wasn't that long to wait. Not in the grand scheme of things.
He could wait.
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