Interlude I [Romania/Norway]
Jun. 20th, 2025 07:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Interlude I
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Romania/Norway
Rating: NR
Length: 1.3k
Summary: After a long day out hiking, Norway gives Romania a foot massage.
Other: Just something fun and cozy. No sex.
Interlude I
Romania sank down onto the deck chair and let out a long, content sigh.
The air was warm, the sky clear and cloudless. He and Norway had been out for a walk, and while the forest paths and mountain air cooled things down somewhat, he'd still come back to Norway's house feeling warm and pleasantly exhausted.
"Need yourself a rest, then," Norway observed.
"A little." Romania pushed his shades up on top of his head, glancing over to where Norway sat. Norway was looking at him with a curious and slightly amused expression on his face, as if he was seeing him in a different light than before. Taking a quick moment, Romania thought – and realized that was probably right. They'd spent time together before, but never at Norway's place at the height of summer. Most of their previous trips had involved cozy time indoors. "I have to admit, you wore me out a little."
That look of amusement deepened, but Norway didn't comment any further. He only gave a soft sound of acknowledgement, then nodded toward the back door leading into the kitchen. "Hold on for a blink. I'll get you something."
As Norway disappeared, Romania closed his eyes. If Norway was going to do him favours, he was hardly going to argue. It seemed like Norway always took pleasure in doing small things for him – never anything ostentatious, mind you, but it hadn't escaped Romania's notice that there was always a little gift here, a small favour there, or a treat here, a tiny gesture there.
Maybe Norway was like this with everyone.
But that couldn't be it, could it? He tried to imagine Norway fetching things for Denmark, paying for his coffee, or helping him into his coat. The thought was so impossible that it was almost laughable. No – not in the least. But was he so generous with anyone else as he was with Romania? Romania wondered, and decided that no matter how curious he was, he wouldn't ask. He knew better than to risk ruining a good thing.
A moment later, Norway returned.
He carried a tray with a pitcher and two cups. Moisture beaded on the cool glass. "Here," Norway said, soft and matter-of-fact as he set it down on the table. Poured him a glass. "It'll do you good."
"You sure know how to treat a guest, I see." As Romania brought the glass to his lips, Norway let out a soft huff, almost a laugh.
"'S hardly."
"Well, whatever you want to call it, then." The water was crisp and good, flavoured with mint and lemon. Romania kicked off his shoes, letting out a long groan.
"Sore?" Norway asked, looking at him over the rim of his water glass, his brows lifting.
Romania made a soft sound of acknowledgement. "Tired feet, mostly." He grinned at Norway. "I thought I was used to mountains, but it's a little different when it's someone else's landscape, I guess. I had a hard time keeping up with you."
"Managed to hold your own well enough, I'd say." Norway took another long, slow drink, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Could take care of that for you. If you'd like."
"What d'you mean?"
Norway nodded toward him. "Them feet of yours."
It was Romania's turn to raise an eyebrow. The request was a little odd, but then again, maybe not. There was no innuendo in Norway's voice, but that wasn't always an indicator of anything. It was hard to tell with Norway.
Even if the offer was only what it was and nothing else – he found he didn't want to refuse. The suggestion was just off-the-wall enough that it made him curious about where it would go.
"Well," he said finally, setting his glass down and leaning back in his chair. "You know I'll never complain about you taking care of me."
That got a small smile from Norway. "Thought as much," he said. Then he rose and disappeared inside the house again.
Romania slipped his shades back over his eyes and relaxed and waited. He stayed quiet when Norway returned, carrying a small bowl and cloth and other things. Thought about making a comment when Norway sank down to his knees in front of him, but decided it was best to say nothing. There was a time and place, and he still wasn't sure what Norway had in mind. If it was just what he said it was.
As Norway washed his feet, Romania zoned out, appreciating the feeling of the soft, cool washcloth.
The air was still warm, but the dappled shade was enough to keep the sun from overwhelming them. The birds in the nearby forest were lively, their singing rising and falling in a way that somehow made the moment even more relaxing.
Norway didn't speak as he worked, carefully wiping down every inch of skin, even getting between his toes. Romania wasn't sure when he had last been on the receiving end of something like that, and there was something about the gesture that seemed like it ought to feel too weird, too intimate.
But it didn't. Wasn't. Not weirder than anything else Norway ever did, anyway.
It wasn't until Norway set the cloth aside that Romania decided to say something about it. He watched through lazy, half-closed eyes as Norway put a small amount of lotion onto his hands, then took one of Romania's feet onto his lap, and began kneading with his long, steady fingers. Norway's expression was quiet, strangely content.
"So... What do you get out of this, exactly?" Romania asked.
Norway's gaze flicked up to him for a moment, then back down to what he was doing. "I like taking care of you."
"Well, sure. But there's taking care of me, and then there's..." Romania trailed off, sucking in a breath, momentarily distracted by the sensation of Norway rolling his thumb over his arch. God, that felt good. "There's... whatever this is."
Norway nodded. Didn't say anything for a moment. Just kept massaging Romania's feet, the lotion making his thumbs slide easily, going slowly and with care over the tender spots. Finally, he said, "'S simple. You appreciate things proper, but you don't expect it. Don't demand a single thing from me. That's what makes me want to treat you. Do more than I might otherwise. Seeing as you'll be right thankful, and you know better than to push it."
That was more candid than Norway would usually be. Romania mulled his words over, wondering if there was anything more to it. Knowing Norway, there was, even if what he'd said was completely earnest and made enough sense by itself. The question, 'What, you mean this doesn't turn you on?' was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. This wasn't the right conversation for that kind of banter. Not the right kind of moment for it.
"Okay." Romania nodded, because what else could he say to that? Then he smiled, unable to stop himself. "You should be careful, though. If I get used to this, I might get spoiled."
Norway snorted. "Doubt you could. Mind, if you did, I'd set you to rights."
There was a confidence in those words that was too tempting to ignore. "You're making me want to act like a brat just to see what you'd do."
"But you won't. Ain't that so." Another glance up at Romania, then Norway went back to his work. "You know better than to ruin a good thing."
Well, Romania thought, a little surprised that Norway had so perfectly echoed his thoughts from earlier. He couldn't argue with that. So, he didn't.
He rested back, and took it in: the warmth of the air, the sensation of Norway's strong, steady fingers working at his feet. The taste of mint and lemon on his tongue. The way the day slowly drained out of him, leaving him feeling relaxed and completely happy.
"I guess you're right," Romania said.
He know how to appreciate good things while they lasted.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Romania/Norway
Rating: NR
Length: 1.3k
Summary: After a long day out hiking, Norway gives Romania a foot massage.
Other: Just something fun and cozy. No sex.
Interlude I
Romania sank down onto the deck chair and let out a long, content sigh.
The air was warm, the sky clear and cloudless. He and Norway had been out for a walk, and while the forest paths and mountain air cooled things down somewhat, he'd still come back to Norway's house feeling warm and pleasantly exhausted.
"Need yourself a rest, then," Norway observed.
"A little." Romania pushed his shades up on top of his head, glancing over to where Norway sat. Norway was looking at him with a curious and slightly amused expression on his face, as if he was seeing him in a different light than before. Taking a quick moment, Romania thought – and realized that was probably right. They'd spent time together before, but never at Norway's place at the height of summer. Most of their previous trips had involved cozy time indoors. "I have to admit, you wore me out a little."
That look of amusement deepened, but Norway didn't comment any further. He only gave a soft sound of acknowledgement, then nodded toward the back door leading into the kitchen. "Hold on for a blink. I'll get you something."
As Norway disappeared, Romania closed his eyes. If Norway was going to do him favours, he was hardly going to argue. It seemed like Norway always took pleasure in doing small things for him – never anything ostentatious, mind you, but it hadn't escaped Romania's notice that there was always a little gift here, a small favour there, or a treat here, a tiny gesture there.
Maybe Norway was like this with everyone.
But that couldn't be it, could it? He tried to imagine Norway fetching things for Denmark, paying for his coffee, or helping him into his coat. The thought was so impossible that it was almost laughable. No – not in the least. But was he so generous with anyone else as he was with Romania? Romania wondered, and decided that no matter how curious he was, he wouldn't ask. He knew better than to risk ruining a good thing.
A moment later, Norway returned.
He carried a tray with a pitcher and two cups. Moisture beaded on the cool glass. "Here," Norway said, soft and matter-of-fact as he set it down on the table. Poured him a glass. "It'll do you good."
"You sure know how to treat a guest, I see." As Romania brought the glass to his lips, Norway let out a soft huff, almost a laugh.
"'S hardly."
"Well, whatever you want to call it, then." The water was crisp and good, flavoured with mint and lemon. Romania kicked off his shoes, letting out a long groan.
"Sore?" Norway asked, looking at him over the rim of his water glass, his brows lifting.
Romania made a soft sound of acknowledgement. "Tired feet, mostly." He grinned at Norway. "I thought I was used to mountains, but it's a little different when it's someone else's landscape, I guess. I had a hard time keeping up with you."
"Managed to hold your own well enough, I'd say." Norway took another long, slow drink, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Could take care of that for you. If you'd like."
"What d'you mean?"
Norway nodded toward him. "Them feet of yours."
It was Romania's turn to raise an eyebrow. The request was a little odd, but then again, maybe not. There was no innuendo in Norway's voice, but that wasn't always an indicator of anything. It was hard to tell with Norway.
Even if the offer was only what it was and nothing else – he found he didn't want to refuse. The suggestion was just off-the-wall enough that it made him curious about where it would go.
"Well," he said finally, setting his glass down and leaning back in his chair. "You know I'll never complain about you taking care of me."
That got a small smile from Norway. "Thought as much," he said. Then he rose and disappeared inside the house again.
Romania slipped his shades back over his eyes and relaxed and waited. He stayed quiet when Norway returned, carrying a small bowl and cloth and other things. Thought about making a comment when Norway sank down to his knees in front of him, but decided it was best to say nothing. There was a time and place, and he still wasn't sure what Norway had in mind. If it was just what he said it was.
As Norway washed his feet, Romania zoned out, appreciating the feeling of the soft, cool washcloth.
The air was still warm, but the dappled shade was enough to keep the sun from overwhelming them. The birds in the nearby forest were lively, their singing rising and falling in a way that somehow made the moment even more relaxing.
Norway didn't speak as he worked, carefully wiping down every inch of skin, even getting between his toes. Romania wasn't sure when he had last been on the receiving end of something like that, and there was something about the gesture that seemed like it ought to feel too weird, too intimate.
But it didn't. Wasn't. Not weirder than anything else Norway ever did, anyway.
It wasn't until Norway set the cloth aside that Romania decided to say something about it. He watched through lazy, half-closed eyes as Norway put a small amount of lotion onto his hands, then took one of Romania's feet onto his lap, and began kneading with his long, steady fingers. Norway's expression was quiet, strangely content.
"So... What do you get out of this, exactly?" Romania asked.
Norway's gaze flicked up to him for a moment, then back down to what he was doing. "I like taking care of you."
"Well, sure. But there's taking care of me, and then there's..." Romania trailed off, sucking in a breath, momentarily distracted by the sensation of Norway rolling his thumb over his arch. God, that felt good. "There's... whatever this is."
Norway nodded. Didn't say anything for a moment. Just kept massaging Romania's feet, the lotion making his thumbs slide easily, going slowly and with care over the tender spots. Finally, he said, "'S simple. You appreciate things proper, but you don't expect it. Don't demand a single thing from me. That's what makes me want to treat you. Do more than I might otherwise. Seeing as you'll be right thankful, and you know better than to push it."
That was more candid than Norway would usually be. Romania mulled his words over, wondering if there was anything more to it. Knowing Norway, there was, even if what he'd said was completely earnest and made enough sense by itself. The question, 'What, you mean this doesn't turn you on?' was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. This wasn't the right conversation for that kind of banter. Not the right kind of moment for it.
"Okay." Romania nodded, because what else could he say to that? Then he smiled, unable to stop himself. "You should be careful, though. If I get used to this, I might get spoiled."
Norway snorted. "Doubt you could. Mind, if you did, I'd set you to rights."
There was a confidence in those words that was too tempting to ignore. "You're making me want to act like a brat just to see what you'd do."
"But you won't. Ain't that so." Another glance up at Romania, then Norway went back to his work. "You know better than to ruin a good thing."
Well, Romania thought, a little surprised that Norway had so perfectly echoed his thoughts from earlier. He couldn't argue with that. So, he didn't.
He rested back, and took it in: the warmth of the air, the sensation of Norway's strong, steady fingers working at his feet. The taste of mint and lemon on his tongue. The way the day slowly drained out of him, leaving him feeling relaxed and completely happy.
"I guess you're right," Romania said.
He know how to appreciate good things while they lasted.
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