Tying loose ends [Denmark/Iceland/Norway]
Sep. 17th, 2025 05:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Tying loose ends
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Denmark/Iceland/Norway
Rating: 18+
Length: 8K
Summary: At the beginning of his vacation with Denmark and Norway, Iceland is feeling bothered by this, that, and the other thing. Luckily for him, the other two are willing to help him sort everything out.
Other: This draft was written several years ago; it was meant to be a gift fic for an event. But after I finished it, I realized it wasn't a good fit for the recipient, and wrote them something else. It's kind of sat around ever since. I'm happy to finally post it, at any rate!
Tying loose ends
Iceland closed his eyes and let the sunlight warm his face.
The car window was cracked open and the wind tousled his hair as they passed through the countryside. He didn't need to look at it to know what the landscape looked like. Mountains and trees and fjords. Little farms. Small villages. That was all anyone saw in this part of Norway.
The radio was turned down to a murmur, the weather report promising sunny, warm days. In the driver's seat Norway made a hum of satisfaction.
"Sound good, Ice?" A hand brushed against his.
"Mmhm." Iceland cracked his eyes open. Watched Norway for a moment. One glance – their eyes met before Norway looked to the road again.
Denmark, asleep in the back seat, didn't comment except with a snore.
They had been doing this for several years now: going out during the summer to spend time in the countryside, the three of them together. "Making time for each other" was how Denmark had described it once.
Sometimes, their destination was in Denmark. More often, it was Norway's summer cabin.
They'd never spent the summer in Iceland. Then again, Iceland thought as he shifted a little to watch the countryside pass by, he'd never offered.
On the other hand, they'd never asked.
The drive was long. Partway through, they stopped at a roadside turnout to stretch their legs.
Norway passed the car keys to Iceland. "Your turn," he said.
"Oh?" Iceland looked at him in surprise.
Norway raised an eyebrow right back. "You remember the way. Ain't that so?"
Iceland felt a flush spread over his cheeks. He pretended it was nothing more than the sun's heat. "I do," he said. "I'll be fine!"
And he was fine. He did know the way. And it didn't matter that the mountain roads weren't his own; it was comparable enough to his home that he could manage. But it was unnerving how Norway was right there beside him, sharp eyes watching. Probably weighing and measuring his every move. That was what he always did.
At least Norway was keeping any criticism to himself for the moment.
Iceland kept his eyes ahead, on the road. He could manage.
They made decent time on those winding mountain roads, and eventually Iceland was able to ignore the nagging thought that Norway might be silently nitpicking at him.
Norway's cabin was small and neat, tucked away into the countryside. A blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of place. Sun brushing against green surroundings, light sparkling on the water. It was almost as if it were so nice because Norway asked it to be so.
It wouldn't surprise Iceland if that really were the case.
He stayed quiet while they unloaded the car, shouldering bags and taking up a box of supplies, listening in as Norway and Denmark talked among themselves.
"You've gone 'n slept enough that you won't be getting a wink tonight. Damn foolish. You'll keep the lot of us up."
"Well, I dunno!" A laugh. "You two don't usually mind if I keep you up."
"That so."
"Depends on how I'm doing it."
He heard Norway huff, and Denmark laughed again. Iceland rolled his eyes a little, but could feel his ears burning. He was a little tired from driving, but that didn't stop his mind from wandering to what Denmark was implying.
Oh, leave it, he told himself. You can think about that later. So he shut the boot of the car, and gathered his things, and went inside to join them.
Soon the cabin was filled with sunlight and the scent of coffee. There was something comforting about the familiar rustic furniture, the tin mugs, the rag rugs. It was nice, Iceland thought, knowing that they would be together for a while and that they could take their time and enjoy it, rather than rushing around like they had to do when they met up under more official circumstances. He pushed open the kitchen window, breathed in the familiar fresh air, and decided that he'd do his best to enjoy their holiday as much as he could.
They went out for a walk together after everything had been stowed away, needing some time to breathe and move after spending so many hours in the car. Norway poured more coffee into a thermos, handed a picnic blanket to Denmark, and off they went. The sun was bright and warm, with an afternoon touch of gold, and the air smelled green.
They walked in single file along paths they'd travelled so many times before. Norway in front. Denmark behind him, chatting away about nothing much. Iceland trailed behind, hands in his pockets, letting himself get lost in the sights around him. It was easy to do so. The landscape was beautiful by any metric, and being surrounded by Norway gave even the most mundane walk a feeling of almost overwhelming closeness.
It had been one thing, before, back when their relationship had only been familial. Now, when the three of them were something else entirely, it felt different. Intimate. Almost too much, in a way. Hard to get used to.
Iceland worried at his lower lip, feeling his cheeks warm from the thought. He ducked his head, and resolved not to think about it. Not for the moment, anyway. If he thought about it too much, he'd embarrass himself by saying something awkward. He didn't want to ruin the moment.
He still felt a little flustered when they stopped. They'd made their way up to a high, flat spot with a nice view, not that there were any shortage of good views around. The nearby trees were familiar; they'd been there a few times before. Iceland was sure he was still blushing, and the way Denmark looked at him, smile broadening and one eyebrow raised, only confirmed it.
"You all right, Ice?" he asked, reaching over to ruffle his hair a bit. "Looks like you've had too much sun."
"I'm fine," he said, batting his hands away.
"Leave him be, Denmark." By the way Norway glanced to Iceland, it was almost as if he knew what he'd been thinking about. But for all his magic, as far as Iceland knew, mind-reading wasn't one of his talents.
That didn't stop the flush from deepening a shade as he sank down onto the picnic blanket Norway had spread out.
Denmark took a spot next to Iceland, sliding an arm around his shoulders so Iceland could nestle against him, as if to make up for teasing him. For a moment, Iceland wondered if he ought to protest. But that was more Norway's kind of thing, wasn't it. And Iceland didn't actually mind.
He curled up close to him, relaxing against Denmark.
Beside him, Norway sat close, pouring coffee into the lid of the thermos. He took a sip from the mug, then passed it over. Iceland did the same, passing it on to Denmark.
The coffee was black and strong, and the moment was quiet.
It was the kind of moment that suited all three of them, but in a way, it was Norway's way more than anyone else's. As it usually was. Iceland thought about bringing that up. Thought again about what he'd considered in the car, about how it was always Norway or Denmark. Not Iceland.
It would ruin the moment, Iceland told himself. Don't bother. This is nice, being right here like this, and if you open your mouth and come out with that it'll raise a whole lot of questions, like why didn't you say something before, and why do you feel that way, and why isn't this enough. Besides, they won't get it at all.
A kiss brushed against his hair. Iceland turned his head a bit, blinking at Denmark. "What was that for?"
"Ya' seem tense, is all." Another light brush.
"'M fine," Iceland murmured.
"You're sure? 'Cause -"
"He's fine."
Norway. Iceland glanced over at him, and wasn't surprised to see Norway watching him, his face having that thoughtful, flat look that it sometimes got. It was a 'We'll talk later' sort of look. The kind of look that said he knew that something was up, even if he didn't know exactly what.
Iceland nestled closer into Denmark's arms. He didn't doubt that Norway would bring it up later. For the moment, he didn't really want to think about it any more.
That night, Iceland found it difficult to sleep. He stared up at the ceiling for hours, listening to the sound of birds and frogs and insects outside, and the sound of Norway and Denmark's breathing.
The bed was barely big enough for the three of them. Not like back when they used to be able to sleep three to a bed with room to spare. But those had been different times, and Iceland wouldn't trade the present for it – even if now he had to face the problem of two warm bodies trapping him between them. Not a problem on a cold night. But now, it was less than ideal.
Carefully, Iceland slipped away from the bed, wriggling down to the end of it so he could slink out without disturbing anyone.
He stepped silently into the kitchen. While the bedroom had been pitch black from the curtains over the window, they'd been left drawn back in the kitchen. The sky beyond was dark enough to be called a proper night, but soon there would be a hint of brightness on the horizon.
Iceland looked out for a moment, then decided he wanted a better view.
After rummaging around for a Coke and a lantern, he pulled on a jacket, slipped into his shoes, and went outside.
The outdoors was much louder once he was actually in it, the birdcalls sharper. Wind brushed the treetops. Out there somewhere, an owl called.
Iceland sank down onto the patio bench beside the cabin, cracked the tab on his cola, and listened.
Peace and quiet. Maybe he'd needed a little bit of that. Norway and Denmark were better at giving people space than some nations were, but that didn't mean that being in close quarters with them couldn't be a bit much. And not only because it meant being physically close together.
Some things had changed about their relationship after Iceland declared his independence. But some things hadn't. Not the way those guys didn't seem to take him seriously, not as much as they should. Not the way they seemed to see him as a part of themselves.
Then again, Iceland thought, could he blame them for that? He frowned to himself, and took another sip of Coke, letting the fizzy sweetness bite at his tongue. It hadn't even been a hundred years since he'd made himself his own. And their personal relationship – the way that it was – was very recent, too, much more recent than that. All of it was still fresh, still new.
Maybe they all just needed more time to get used to things.
The sound of footsteps came from inside. Somebody tramping around. Iceland tilted his head and listened, wondering if whoever it was had gotten up for their own reasons, or if somebody had come looking for him. Maybe they wouldn't come out and look for him. Maybe they would go back to bed.
No dice. After a moment, the cabin door opened, and out came Denmark.
"There you are." Denmark flashed him a smile that would have been dazzling in daylight. In the light from the moon and the weak glow from Iceland's lantern, it was barely visible. "Mind if I join you?"
Iceland hesitated. He could feel heat creeping across his cheeks as if somehow, by going outside like this, he'd done something embarrassing. He dropped his gaze, wondering. If he said no, then there wouldn't be a problem. But there would be questions. And would company be so bad? Maybe not.
"Go ahead," he said finally, and moved aside to give him room.
Denmark sank down beside him, large and warm in the night. Iceland glanced at him, took a long look. He seemed tired, but not overly so, still smiling. By the look of it, he'd thrown on the clothes he'd worn the day before. Somehow, that made Iceland feel even smaller, even childish, sitting there as he was with a jacket thrown over his lightweight summer pajamas.
Stop it, he told himself. Stop being self-concious about every little thing. You're being ridiculous.
For a while, they sat together, staying quiet and enjoying the night. As usual, Denmark put his arm around Iceland's shoulders, and Iceland leaned into it. He didn't say anything, and Denmark didn't either – he just kept looking up at the stars, face relaxed, like he had all the time in the world.
Well. Maybe that was right.
Iceland picked at the tab on his Coke can and waited. It was only a matter of time before Denmark would start talking. And -
"So how're you feeling, anyway?"
There it was.
Iceland took a moment to reply, fidgeting with the tab as he tried to fix his expression into a look that said the question didn't matter at all. "I'm all right," he said. And it didn't sound confident, because it never did, but it wasn't a lie, either.
"Ya' sure? You were quieter than usual today."
"You were asleep for half of it," Iceland said. He gave him a nudge. "So how would you know?"
Denmark laughed. "Okay, fine." Then he dipped his head, kissing at Iceland's hair, then his cheek. "But if there is something bugging you...."
He let the suggestion hang, and for a moment Iceland thought about taking him up on it. About telling him that sometimes it didn't really seem like they were all on the same level. And also that they should go camping in Iceland next summer. But he didn't say any of that, and leaned into Denmark, edging closer in his seat so that he could curl up against his body. "I know," Iceland said, and that, at least, was the truth.
They stayed out there for a while longer, not saying much, looking up at the sky. Eventually, the colour of the night lightened, and the brightness at the horizon became brighter. They gathered their things and, a little reluctantly, went back in. Iceland didn't relish the thought of being squished in between Denmark and Norway again, so he opted to take the couch for what was left of the night, and waved Denmark off to the bedroom.
Iceland closed the curtains and wrapped up in one of Norway's knitted throw blankets. As he made himself comfortable on the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling and decided that things hadn't gone badly, even if it had been a little awkward.
When morning finally came, it came in the form of the scent of coffee brewing, and sunlight hitting Iceland smack in the eyes as Norway twitched open a curtain to look outside. Iceland groaned and covered his face, then peeked up between his fingers at Norway, who was looking out at the world with his usual unreadable expression.
"Good... morning?" Iceland ventured.
"G'morning." Norway's gaze flickered down toward him, taking in Iceland's sleepy, morning-bleary appearance, before looking outside again. "Slept all right, did you?"
It was said in the sort of way that meant he knew exactly why Iceland was on the sofa, and what had happened last night, and no matter what Iceland might say in response, Norway would see right through him.
"...It was okay," Iceland said, which was the truth. The sofa was much better than being squished between Denmark and Norway. He sat up, sweeping his hair out of his face.
"Good," Norway said. He looked like he might say more, but instead he let the curtain fall, then bent to kiss Iceland's forehead. "Breakfast'll be ready soon."
It was ready very soon, and it was good, and Iceland found that he could forgive an awkward wakeup with Norway in exchange for eggs done the way he liked them and delicious, perfect coffee.
The day was quiet, lazy. Norway disappeared well into the morning, and both Denmark and Iceland knew better than to go looking for him. Gone off to be with his thoughts, as usual.
Denmark dragged Iceland out for a walk. He'd put in some token protest at first, saying he wanted to catch up on the sleep he'd missed, but Denmark would hear none of it – and even if under other circumstances this might have been incredibly annoying, Iceland didn't mind being outside.
And the company wasn't bad.
Denmark talked, and talked. Iceland walked with hands in the pockets of his jacket, pretending to listen, knowing that he didn't have to. Mountain flowers and grasses surrounded them. Iceland counted the bees while they went, and found himself glad to realize that there seemed to be more of them around than the previous year.
Finally, there was a lull in Denmark's talking, and they soon were both equally quiet, with no sound except their footsteps.
Iceland thought. He thought about the things that had been making him feel insecure and restless. He thought about the way that he felt. He thought abut walking like this, with Denmark, and how there wasn't really that much of a change between the way they'd been before the three of them started their relationship, and after. Or was there?
He could ask. He should talk about it. There wasn't anything wrong with seeing what Denmark thought about the whole thing, and besides, he had said that Iceland could talk to him about anything.
And he wasn't Norway. Denmark didn't look at him as if he could read Iceland's mind. That helped.
Iceland opened his mouth. Shut it. Tried again.
"Um," he managed.
"Hmm?" Denmark turned to look at him. "What's that, Ice?"
"Nothing," Iceland lied. His cheeks flushed hot, the warmth creeping over his ears and down his neck.
"I see!" Said in the sort of cheerful way that made it clear that Denmark didn't believe a word of it. "All right."
When Denmark didn't press him, Iceland took one deep breath, then another. Keep cool, he told himself. You can do this. "You know," Iceland said. "I think... Sometimes I feel like you guys don't think of me as somebody separate from you."
"Huh! How do you mean?"
It wasn't the response Iceland had hoped for, but it wasn't bad. Iceland swallowed. "I... um."
How could he say it? It was something almost impossible to describe, and something Denmark probably wouldn't understand at all. "I feel like sometimes you, both of you, just get me to tag along with things because that's how it's always been, even now that we're... you know. Like you still think of me as part of you, so I have to be there."
"What?" A pause as Denmark took a moment to process that. "That's how you really feel about it?"
"I guess," Iceland mumbled. He should have known it wasn't reasonable to expect him to get it. He shouldn't have said anything at all. This was Denmark, and he was... himself, and it was just -
"Let's sit for a bit," Denmark said.
"Sure," Iceland said. Great, he thought, now this is going to be awkward.
So they found a flat, grassy spot. And they sat. And neither of them said anything. Denmark was quiet, and Iceland wondered if he should be suspicious. It wasn't like Denmark to be silent most of the time. But he did get like that with serious things. Maybe he considered this serious. There was a thoughtful look on Denmark's face, a furrowing of his brow that usually happened when he was thinking really hard.
"Nor said something like that, once," Denmark said eventually.
"What?" Iceland asked. He had been slipping tufts of grass through his fingers, and Denmark's words made him still, looking at him with surprise. The thought of Norway feeling anything like what he'd tried to tell Denmark was a little too weird for him to contemplate. "What do you mean?"
"He said something about feeling like he wasn't separate. Mostly from Sweden, but I kinda' think he meant me too. Didn't say as much, but he made it pretty damn clear." Denmark swept his fingers through his hair and frowned uncomfortably. "This was all a while back – no long after he and Sweden split, I guess. You weren't around for that conversation."
No, Iceland thought. He would have remembered Norway saying something like that.
"Took him a while to figure himself out, maybe," Denmark continued. "Like he was suddenly independent and then he had to learn who he was all over again."
"Maybe." Iceland tried to think back to those days. He hadn't seen Norway often, and when he did, his brother had seemed distracted and distant. Had Norway been unsure of himself then? "So. You're saying you think I'm still figuring myself out?" Iceland asked, edging over after a moment to sit closer to Denmark.
"Sure. But that's not all of it." Denmark lifted a hand to touch Iceland's hair, sliding his fingers through the strands. "Ya' might be right about still feeling like you're part of me. I still catch myself thinking of you that way sometimes, even though you're on your own. Wouldn't dream've actually acting it, though. Just takes some getting used to, is all."
Iceland leaned into the touch. Not at first. He let it sit for a moment, uncertain whether he wanted that or not. But in the end, cuddling up to Denmark was too tempting. "At least you realize it," he said. "So, since you realize it, you can, um. Try to take me more seriously. Or..." He clamped down, forced himself not to continue, the childish 'or something' left unsaid. Like Denmark had told him, he was on his own; he was an independent nation. At the very least he should try to talk like one.
"I won't just try. I'll do it!" Denmark grinned as he said it, and slid his arm around Iceland's shoulders. The declaration was a bit much, a little too firm, but at the moment, the thought counted. Before Iceland could respond, Denmark continued, that thoughtful note in his voice again. "...Y'should talk to Norway too, y'know. Reckon he should hear about this."
Norway. Of course. Denmark was only half of it. "I never know whether the weird feelings I get are because of the dependency thing or because Norway's... Norway."
Denmark scrubbed a hand down his face, making a soft sound of acknowledgement.
"Weird guy, Norway. Hard to know what he's thinking."
"Especially since he always looks like he knows what I'm thinking," Iceland said. He thought back to all the moments that Norway looked at him, quiet and still, as if he knew everything.
"And he looks like he doesn't like what's going on in your head?" Denmark said.
"Sometimes." Iceland sighed. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed that Denmark had him figured out, or relieved that he wasn't the only one who felt that way.
"That's just Nor bein' Nor." Brushing a kiss to Iceland's hair Denmark seemed confident that it wasn't anything more than that. "Ya' don't need to worry about that. 'S like that with me too, ain't he? And Sweden. And everyone."
Iceland settled closer into Denmark's hold. For a moment, he didn't reply, turning the thought over in his head.
Living with those two had been a challenge. So many prolonged absences. So many discussions held behind closed doors. Discussions that by rights should have involved him, but didn't. Glances between Norway and Denmark, and things left unsaid, or unexplained. He also remembered the quiet way Norway looked at Denmark sometimes, as if he could guess at what he was going to say before anything came out of his mouth.
"Maybe you're right," Iceland said.
"I know I am," Denmark said cheerfully.
Fingertips brushed against Iceland's cheek. He turned his head, and accepted the kiss Denmark offered him, soft and light.
Maybe he'd been overthinking everything. But it felt good to talk about it. The twisty feeling in his insides had eased a bit. All that was left was Norway.
The rest of the day passed quickly. Iceland and Denmark spent most of it outside, enjoying the landscape and drinking in the fresh mountain air. When they returned to the cabin, they found a note on the kitchen counter.
Norway had gone out for a bit. Again.
On the way back, Iceland had kept thinking about what to say to Norway. How could he bring it up? And what exactly was it that he really wanted to tell him, anyway? All of the feelings were a tangled mess that he was still having trouble sorting out, even if he did feel better about everything after the talk with Denmark.
Now, he'd have to wait. Again.
Iceland chewed at his lip, re-read Norway's note, and tried to shove down the weird feeling of disappointment. It would have been nice to get the conversation over with.
"Don't worry about it, Ice," Denmark said, coiling his long arms around him from behind. "Ya' can bring it up with him later, yeah? No problem."
'No problem'. That was Denmark's usual approach to things. Sometimes, it didn't work out for him. But other times, it did.
Sighing, Iceland leaned back against him, letting his eyes fall shut. "I'll try to be patient," he said, nestling into the reassuring warmth of Denmark's arms.
But being patient was easier said than done.
Norway returned later that day without comment, looking fresh as a daisy even though he had apparently been out all day. He greeted Iceland with a kiss to the cheek, asking how he'd been, and Iceland's tongue stuck in his mouth as he tried to think of what to say.
"Fine," he settled for. "It was nice out. We had a good walk." And nothing about how he really, really needed to talk to him.
Norway gave a long, quiet look, but if he had any idea what Iceland was thinking, he didn't comment on it.
He didn't comment on it the next day, either. Or the next. Or the one after that.
Holding his tongue, Iceland tried to think of the right way to ask Norway to have a talk. It wasn't easy. He kept thinking of different ways to bring it up, and eventually all the possible conversation openers got muddled together in his mind. It didn't help that every so often, Denmark's gaze went over to him, eyebrows lifting as if to question when exactly Iceland was going to get on with it.
Norway kept looking at him, too. Catching his eye. Giving Iceland a look as if he he knew that something was going on.
It was unnerving.
One night, it finally came up.
Norway and Denmark were playing chess at the kitchen table, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Iceland, draped over the sofa with a book, had been ignoring them for a while. Ignoring them, that is, until he felt eyes on him. Slowly, Iceland lowered his book, and met Norway's gaze.
He was turned slightly toward Iceland, head resting against one hand while he waited for Denmark to make his move on the chessboard. There was something intense about that look, something that made Iceland feel like an insect pinned to a board.
"Ought to go out with me tomorrow," Norway said. "In the boat. How's that sound?"
The words stuck in Iceland's mouth, and at the same time, he could feel his face heating under Norway's gaze. Somehow, even when he was being so casual, he managed to look both intensely intimidating and intensely attractive. "Okay," Iceland managed, finally. The word felt heavier than it was. "In the morning?"
"That's right."
It was nothing much, but Iceland knew that was when he would do it. When he would take his chance. He was sure that Norway had made the suggestion knowing that there was something that he wanted to talk about, and while Iceland wasn't thrilled about having to be guided like that, it was more important to get it done.
With that, it was settled. Almost, but not quite, like a date. In the room, wood clicked on wood, and Norway turned to look at the chess board. His face gave away nothing, but a second later he executed a move, and Denmark let out a groan of frustration.
"You're gonna kick my ass again."
"Looks so."
"Unless..." And Denmark descended into a quiet, brows furrowing in concentration as he stared at the board, as if it might reveal its secrets.
Later that night, when Denmark had already gone to bed, Norway slipped into the living room. Iceland had claimed the couch again, setting it up with a pillow and the throw blankets. He looked up from his book and started to ask what Norway wanted – but Norway stopped him with two fingers to his lips.
Obediently, Iceland stopped.
In the soft light, Norway watched him. Then he dipped his head. Cupped Iceland's face. Pressed a kiss to his lips. Then another, and another, soft and slow.
In that moment, Iceland wondered if he should tell him right then. If he should bring it up. The moment was private enough, quiet enough. With Norway so close, it wouldn't be hard – all he had to do was sit up, say he wanted a talk, then bring it all forward.
But while as he was working up the nerve to do it, Norway drew away, murmuring, "G'night, Ice."
"...G'night," Iceland said, practically breathing the word as Norway straightened and went back to the bedroom, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and the words he hadn't said.
The next morning, Norway roused him bright and early. After Iceland's initial grumbling, they stuffed their faces with breakfast, packed a lunch, and headed down to the water.
In the early morning air, the fjord was crisp and calm. The sunlight was thin and gentle on Iceland's face, the surface of the water still.
Norway brought them out in the small boat, silent as it slipped through the water. Iceland didn't look at him; he just looked out at the land surrounding them – but then again, that was exactly the same as looking at Norway, wasn't it.
The thought made Iceland flush in spite of the cool air, and he made even more of a point of looking away, directing his gaze out so Norway wouldn't see his face. The thought that he might was embarrassing.
Iceland waited for Norway to comment, but nothing came. The moment passed. When Iceland, recovering from his embarrassment, glanced toward Norway, he saw that he had his expression set in one of concentration, with his eyes sharp and serious as he steered the little boat along the water.
It wasn't until Norway brought them to their destination, and he turned off the engine, that he said anything. "Now, then. What's on your mind?"
The water was still. Quiet. Iceland stared at Norway, then looked at the shore again. Bright and green, rising up on both sides as if to meet at the top and cover them both. "I don't know what you mean," he lied.
"That so."
"It's so."
"If it's nothing', you could look at me, then."
"I'm already looking at you."
Norway snorted. "Fair enough," he said.
A smile tugged at Iceland's lips. At least he'd won that one.
They said nothing else for a while. Dipped lines into the water, waiting for bites. Silent, even though they weren't serious about trying to catch anything. Not today.
Knowing Norway, he wouldn't let it rest until Iceland explained himself. The thought made his mouth twist into a frown and he wondered how it might go if he stubbornly didn't say anything at all.
For a while, he said nothing. Closed his eyes and let the cold air wash over him, listened to the sound of the water lapping at the edge of the boat, and wondered what to say.
"You know, sometimes I feel like you're judging me for the smallest things," Iceland said eventually. He kept his gaze on the mountains, didn't turn to look at Norway.
Silence. Iceland steeled himself, waiting for the reply. Some comment. Something.
"Oh?" That was all. The sound of Norway turning to look at him. "Go on, then."
He could picture his expression. Those sharp eyes. That carefully blank face. Why on earth did Norway have to be so composed all the time? It wasn't fair!
Iceland let out a long breath. Put his fishing rod between his knees so he could fiddle with his sleeves, pulling his hands into them. Unable to stay still, not under the gaze that he could feel coming from Norway's direction.
"I know you're like this with everybody," Iceland said. "But I... Like, that doesn't make it better. Whenever you straighten my clothes or fix my hair or comment on things I'm doing, it makes me feel like nothing's changed with us. ...Even though it has."
Quiet again for a moment. Then – "Reminds you of when I had leave to tell you what to do. 'S that what you mean?"
"I guess." Iceland tugged at his sleeves again, twisting his fingers in the fabric. He remembered a time two centuries ago. Norway and Denmark having a talk. He tried to sneak past them without being noticed – only for Norway to send him back to his room to change, because it wasn't acceptable for someone of his station to wear trousers rather than breeches.
It had been embarrassing then. But now... "When you get like that, I feel – I don't know. Like I'm still just a dependency. Even if I'm not."
Norway said nothing. There was a long, silent moment. Iceland waited. Listened. Took up his fishing pole again, now that he'd said everything he needed to say, even though it sounded so stupid when he really thought about it.
Still nothing. Finally, Iceland looked over at his brother. He met Norway's eyes, and his heart leapt into his mouth. Norway's expression was calm, quiet, thoughtful – as if he'd really bothered to give it some thought. As if he'd listened and taken it seriously. One nod, then Norway looked away again – but somehow, that one look was enough.
Iceland bit his lip. Still, there must be something.
He waited for criticism, but it didn't come.
Norway had diverted his attention to his line again, sending it out once more, though it was clear by now that they were unlikely to catch any fish. When he spoke, it wasn't about Iceland.
"When I was independent again," Norway said, not bothering to look at him, "I kept myself away from Denmark. And Sweden, too."
"I know," Iceland said. "Denmark was confused about it. He kept trying to send letters to you, and you never responded. He was really upset."
"Needed some time to myself." He wasn't looking at Iceland. He had his gaze on the shore, hair falling into his face. "After all that, I figured I needed time to set myself right. 'N those two – bein' what our relationship was. How long I was under them. It'd take some adjusting, I figured. It'd take some time for them to see me aright."
Iceland listened, waited. He knew it. This was nothing new. But he'd never given it much thought before. Of course Norway separated himself from the others. At the time, it made perfect sense. But... "You're saying it's the same," he said. "You and me."
"You were twenty years independent before you came to me and said you wanted to have things close," Norway said quietly. "'S like a blink for folk like us. Now, that decision of yours is your own, starting things between us so soon. But it does take some getting used to." He turned to look at him then, an earnestly apologetic look in his eyes. "I'll see about keepin' myself in check with you."
Iceland swallowed hard. The urge to say it was fine, that he didn't need to worry about it, that it was okay, all of that bubbled up but he bit his lower lip to stop it. Waited a moment. Breathed. "Okay," Iceland said. And it was okay. "Um... I don't mind it sometimes," he added, mumbling a bit. "You fixing my hair and stuff. Just. It's how much. Or if there's anyone around. That's all."
"Okay."
"Okay." Norway was still watching him, as if he knew there was something else. Iceland looked down at the bottom of the boat, then up at the sky, then out at the shore – anywhere except at Norway. "Um," he said. Wet his lips. Felt both conscious and self-conscious, and the way Norway was looking at him didn't help. "Next year. I... could you and Denmark come by my place next year? I have some decent camping spots at my place. We could... You know. Change things up a little."
Norway made a hum of acknowledgement. "Goin' to your place rather than here, you mean."
"Yeah." Iceland found himself fiddling with his sleeves again. He could feel warmth flooding his cheeks and ears as he waited, sure that the answer would be a negative. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have just -
"Don't see why not."
"I – what?" Iceland looked over at Norway, unsure he'd heard him correctly. "You want to?"
Norway raised an eyebrow at him. Smiled a little. "You'd have to be sure on the weather, mind you. Can be unpredictable at your place. But I'd like it. Bet Denmark will too. A change of pace won't hurt none."
Iceland felt like a fool. He also felt relieved. He wanted to kiss him – but he knew better than to move too much and rock the boat. Instead, he offered a smile, letting it spread wide and as warm as he felt. "Okay."
In the end, they didn't catch any fish.
Iceland wasn't surprised in the least. Norway grumbled as he brought the boat in toward the shore, but Iceland could tell by the look of him that he didn't really mind. This little outing hadn't been about catching something for supper.
"Goin' to have to get Denmark to put together something else tonight," Norway said as they made their way on the path back to the cabin.
"Mmhm." Iceland stepped closer to him.
"Did y'tell him? About all that. During your walk yesterday."
"Yeah." Their hands brushed, and his insides fluttered in a warm, familiar way when Norway responded by linking Iceland's fingers with his own. "We talked it over. Um. It was a little easier to tell him about it than you."
"Oh?" A gentle squeeze of his hand. Like Norway understood.
"Yeah."
"On account've being intimidating."
"Right."
Norway said nothing.
Iceland glanced at him. There was nothing frosty about his quiet. And he didn't look annoyed. Norway squeezed his hand again, and Iceland found he was satisfied with that.
They stayed quiet until they came within sight of the cabin. Nearby, the sound of an axe hitting wood could be heard.
Iceland looked at Norway. As if reading his thoughts, his brother nodded.
They slipped around the side of the cabin, peeking through the trees as if they had no cause to be there.
Denmark was cutting wood. Up the axe went, then down, splitting the log neatly. Then another. He'd thrown on a snug sleeveless shirt, and for a moment Iceland and Norway stood watching, following the movement of his body. The shift of his muscles. The flex of his arms.
Norway leaned in close, murmuring by Iceland's ear. "We could have some fun later. Tonight."
Iceland turned to him, somehow managing to drag his eyes away from the sight. He parted his lips to ask, but before he could get a word out, Norway put his fingers to his lips. Nodded once toward Denmark. Smiled.
Iceland felt his ears burning, but he couldn't help but grin.
Concentrating on anything was almost impossible for the rest of the day. Iceland held on to Norway's hints, and it was hard not to get flustered every time he looked at Denmark, who seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Iceland and Norway had been watching him. At one point in the afternoon, Denmark had taken him aside, leaning in close to ask conspiratorially, "Did ya' have a chance to talk to Nor?"
"Yeah." In truth, everything that had been bothering him had hardly been on Iceland's mind since that conversation on the boat – and as he thought of that, he realized how much the weight had lifted off him. "I feel a lot better about it now. Just talking it over helped." He shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed.
"See? Sometimes you just have to do it." Denmark dipped his head to kiss him, and once again Iceland thought of what Norway had said – but about vacation, and about what they might get to that evening.
Well.
Maybe Denmark was right.
By the time night rolled around, Iceland started to think that Norway might have let Denmark know that they both had something in mind.
They both kept close to him, touching him for the smallest reason, or no reason at all. Stealing kisses at every moment that presented itself. It wasn't unusual for them to pay him so much attention, but after how tense Iceland had been feeling over the last few days, it came as a bit of a relief to be on the receiving end of it.
Eventually, Denmark took his hand, and Norway nudged them both toward the bedroom.
The shades had been down all day to keep the room cool. Now, Norway went over and drew them up, cracked the window open a bit, letting in air and enough light to see by.
Then he went to turn down the covers on the bed.
Iceland's eyes followed him until he was distracted by Denmark. Denmark in front of him, large gentle hands cupping his face, tilting Iceland's head up as he bent down to kiss him.
It was soft and brief, and when they parted, Iceland leaned in to him, letting his arms coil around Denmark's waist.
"I heard you were gettin' an eyeful today," Denmark said. He stayed close, lips by Iceland's ear, his voice as quiet as he was ever capable of making it, which wasn't much, but it was the thought that counted.
Iceland felt himself flush scarlet. "Um," he said.
"I don't mind, y'know. ...And I did notice you were looking."
"Could always look some more," Norway suggested. He'd finished puttering around and had slunk up behind Iceland, insinuating his arms around his waist. "Give him a show, mayhaps." And that was said to Denmark.
Iceland found his tongue tied. As it always seem to be at times like this. The grin that spread over Denmark's face didn't help – but it sure didn't hurt either.
"What d'ya think, Ice?"
What did he think?
There, looking at Denmark in what little sunlight came in from the window, strips of brightness across his skin. That smile. And Norway's body pressed against his own, Norway's lips near Iceland's ear, Norway's arms coiled around his waist.
Iceland swallowed.
He knew that soon he'd be doing more than looking.
"Sounds good," he said, feeling like it was hardly above a whisper. But it must have been enough, because Denmark set to work.
Off came the shirt. Slowly. Making a show of it, drawing it up, letting Iceland take the time to follow with his eyes as bit by bit fabric revealed skin, strips of sunlight sharp and bright over flesh and muscle. Nothing he hadn't seen before. Still, it was different to let himself drink in the sight. To know that it was for him.
Iceland swallowed hard and kept looking. Watched as those broad, familiar hands went to his belt.
There was warmth on his skin, Norway's breath fluttering over his ear. Iceland wasn't the only one watching. "Ought to have a go with him," Norway said, his lips brushing against Iceland's ear, his hands settling low on his hips. "What d'you think?"
Iceland wet his lower lip. "And you?"
There was a pause. "I might have summat in mind." Whispered and soft, as Norway's hand slid along the line of Iceland's hip.
"And that would be... what?" Iceland asked. He tried to keep it cool, tried to keep his voice steady as he watched Denmark's trousers fall to the floor. As Norway's hands slowly, deftly undid the button on his pants.
Norway told him.
Iceland said yes.
Denmark's mouth was warm and eager and pliant.
It was just like the rest of him, sprawled out over the bed, his arms wrapped around Iceland's shoulders, his strong legs spread wide.
Iceland ignored the flush on his cheeks. Tried to, anyway. Allowing himself to indulge himself didn't always come easy – but it helped to have a partner who was so enthusiastic.
He broke the kiss, nuzzling at Denmark's neck, listening to the sound of his breathing, the way it quickened as Iceland slid his hands along his thighs, gently pushing them open a little bit wider.
"C'mon, Ice," Denmark panted, "You aren't going to be a tease, are ya?"
Iceland couldn't help but grin, sweeping his tongue over Denmark's throat. "I might," he said, keeping his voice low-toned and, he hoped, sultry. In truth he wasn't sure just how much he could stand taking his time. From the moment Norway had reached around to start opening Iceland's pants for him, he'd been hard and ready to go. It would have been embarrassing if Denmark wasn't the same. His dick was flushed and firm. At least Iceland wasn't the only one who was eager.
He slipped his hand between them, sliding it along Denmark's skin until he caressed his cock, gave it a good stroke. He got a moan in response, Denmark rocking into the touch. Tilting his head back, baring his neck even more to Iceland's mouth.
"Can ya' believe this guy?" Denmark panted, tilting his head a little so he could look over at Norway.
"Quit your fussin'." There was the sound of shifting fabric as Norway undressed. He'd been watching, Iceland realized. "You won't have to wait all that long."
"He's almost as much of a tease as you."
Iceland rolled his eyes. Kissed Denmark to shut him up, which worked. At least, it did until Iceland moved his hand, touched him again, brushed his thumb over the head of Denmark's cock, already damp and eager. He gasped deeply against Iceland's mouth. Whimpered. Clung to him. And when Iceland broke it, he didn't stop clinging.
"You're ready?" Iceland said, tilting his head to whisper by his ear.
"Am I ever," Denmark groaned, rocking up into his hand.
Quiet footsteps, then light pressure on the mattress announced Norway's arrival. Iceland looked up.
Norway glanced down at Denmark. Smiled a bit. Then handed Iceland the tube of lubricant, his expression straight. "He ain't ready yet," Norway said. Then he tilted his head closer, lips brushing against Iceland's ear. "And neither are you."
It was hard to concentrate. Ordinarily, all of it – the act of getting ready would be overwhelming in itself, sliding his fingers inside Denmark's warm, eager body, feeling his deep moans against his mouth as he kissed him. But Iceland had other things to draw his attention this time, too.
Norway's lips on his shoulder. Norway behind him, one hand steady at his hip. And the other hand....
Iceland whimpered against Denmark's mouth and slid his legs open wider to ease the way.
It was overwhelming when they got going. The sensation of Norway inside of him, and the heat of Denmark's body as Iceland thrust into him in turn, was overwhelming. The thought of this, the idea of being between them like this, had crossed Iceland's mind more than once. But he'd never said anything, even after they'd done so many other intimate things together. Sex was one thing, sex with both of them was another, but this was something else altogether.
Norway had read Iceland's mind again. But for this, it was different, and Iceland couldn't be happier.
It took a while to find the right rhythm, but when they did, it was incredible. Iceland moved to the sensation of Norway thrusting into him, rolling his hips against Denmark, gasping as Denmark rocked up to take him in deeper. He could feel Norway's breath hot at the back of his neck. Heard him gasp, echoed by Denmark's low moaning.
Iceland closed his eyes and lost himself between them.
"How d'you feel?" Norway asked, brushing a kiss against Iceland's temple.
They had cleaned up. Changed the sheets. Sprawled on the bed together – just enough room to curl up together.
Denmark was nestled against Iceland's side, dozing. Norway was on the other, one arm draped over Iceland's waist. Evening light filtered in through the partially-closed curtains, and in spite of cleaning up after they were done, Iceland felt hot and sticky.
He couldn't bring himself to care.
"I feel...." Iceland swept his tongue over his lip. It was hard to put it into words. Norway didn't help, either, not with his fingers trailing through Iceland's hair, slipping slowly through the strands. But this time, Iceland didn't mind at all. "Feels good," he said softly, meaning more than only the sensation.
A low sound from Norway. Little more than the flutter of breath. "Okay," he said. His fingers stroked Iceland's cheek. Trailed soft contact down his neck, then lower, until it rested, fingers splayed on Iceland's chest. "That's what I'd hoped for, y'know. ...Not just with this."
Iceland took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut. He could feel the warm of Denmark and Norway's bodies next to him, nestled against his own. The conversation they'd had on the lake echoed in his mind.
"I know," he said.
For a moment he rested there, feeling awkward, wondering if he should say something else. Norway was quiet, like he was listening. Waiting.
Iceland moved. Took Norway's hand, then turned over so he could kiss him. Norway sighed against his mouth, soft and pliant, and that in itself – at that moment, it was almost better than anything else that had happened that evening.
Whatever happened between them, Iceland thought as he cupped Norway's cheek and kept him there, kissing him deeper. Whatever happened, they'd all work it out.
Together.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters/Pairing: Denmark/Iceland/Norway
Rating: 18+
Length: 8K
Summary: At the beginning of his vacation with Denmark and Norway, Iceland is feeling bothered by this, that, and the other thing. Luckily for him, the other two are willing to help him sort everything out.
Other: This draft was written several years ago; it was meant to be a gift fic for an event. But after I finished it, I realized it wasn't a good fit for the recipient, and wrote them something else. It's kind of sat around ever since. I'm happy to finally post it, at any rate!
Tying loose ends
Iceland closed his eyes and let the sunlight warm his face.
The car window was cracked open and the wind tousled his hair as they passed through the countryside. He didn't need to look at it to know what the landscape looked like. Mountains and trees and fjords. Little farms. Small villages. That was all anyone saw in this part of Norway.
The radio was turned down to a murmur, the weather report promising sunny, warm days. In the driver's seat Norway made a hum of satisfaction.
"Sound good, Ice?" A hand brushed against his.
"Mmhm." Iceland cracked his eyes open. Watched Norway for a moment. One glance – their eyes met before Norway looked to the road again.
Denmark, asleep in the back seat, didn't comment except with a snore.
They had been doing this for several years now: going out during the summer to spend time in the countryside, the three of them together. "Making time for each other" was how Denmark had described it once.
Sometimes, their destination was in Denmark. More often, it was Norway's summer cabin.
They'd never spent the summer in Iceland. Then again, Iceland thought as he shifted a little to watch the countryside pass by, he'd never offered.
On the other hand, they'd never asked.
The drive was long. Partway through, they stopped at a roadside turnout to stretch their legs.
Norway passed the car keys to Iceland. "Your turn," he said.
"Oh?" Iceland looked at him in surprise.
Norway raised an eyebrow right back. "You remember the way. Ain't that so?"
Iceland felt a flush spread over his cheeks. He pretended it was nothing more than the sun's heat. "I do," he said. "I'll be fine!"
And he was fine. He did know the way. And it didn't matter that the mountain roads weren't his own; it was comparable enough to his home that he could manage. But it was unnerving how Norway was right there beside him, sharp eyes watching. Probably weighing and measuring his every move. That was what he always did.
At least Norway was keeping any criticism to himself for the moment.
Iceland kept his eyes ahead, on the road. He could manage.
They made decent time on those winding mountain roads, and eventually Iceland was able to ignore the nagging thought that Norway might be silently nitpicking at him.
Norway's cabin was small and neat, tucked away into the countryside. A blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of place. Sun brushing against green surroundings, light sparkling on the water. It was almost as if it were so nice because Norway asked it to be so.
It wouldn't surprise Iceland if that really were the case.
He stayed quiet while they unloaded the car, shouldering bags and taking up a box of supplies, listening in as Norway and Denmark talked among themselves.
"You've gone 'n slept enough that you won't be getting a wink tonight. Damn foolish. You'll keep the lot of us up."
"Well, I dunno!" A laugh. "You two don't usually mind if I keep you up."
"That so."
"Depends on how I'm doing it."
He heard Norway huff, and Denmark laughed again. Iceland rolled his eyes a little, but could feel his ears burning. He was a little tired from driving, but that didn't stop his mind from wandering to what Denmark was implying.
Oh, leave it, he told himself. You can think about that later. So he shut the boot of the car, and gathered his things, and went inside to join them.
Soon the cabin was filled with sunlight and the scent of coffee. There was something comforting about the familiar rustic furniture, the tin mugs, the rag rugs. It was nice, Iceland thought, knowing that they would be together for a while and that they could take their time and enjoy it, rather than rushing around like they had to do when they met up under more official circumstances. He pushed open the kitchen window, breathed in the familiar fresh air, and decided that he'd do his best to enjoy their holiday as much as he could.
They went out for a walk together after everything had been stowed away, needing some time to breathe and move after spending so many hours in the car. Norway poured more coffee into a thermos, handed a picnic blanket to Denmark, and off they went. The sun was bright and warm, with an afternoon touch of gold, and the air smelled green.
They walked in single file along paths they'd travelled so many times before. Norway in front. Denmark behind him, chatting away about nothing much. Iceland trailed behind, hands in his pockets, letting himself get lost in the sights around him. It was easy to do so. The landscape was beautiful by any metric, and being surrounded by Norway gave even the most mundane walk a feeling of almost overwhelming closeness.
It had been one thing, before, back when their relationship had only been familial. Now, when the three of them were something else entirely, it felt different. Intimate. Almost too much, in a way. Hard to get used to.
Iceland worried at his lower lip, feeling his cheeks warm from the thought. He ducked his head, and resolved not to think about it. Not for the moment, anyway. If he thought about it too much, he'd embarrass himself by saying something awkward. He didn't want to ruin the moment.
He still felt a little flustered when they stopped. They'd made their way up to a high, flat spot with a nice view, not that there were any shortage of good views around. The nearby trees were familiar; they'd been there a few times before. Iceland was sure he was still blushing, and the way Denmark looked at him, smile broadening and one eyebrow raised, only confirmed it.
"You all right, Ice?" he asked, reaching over to ruffle his hair a bit. "Looks like you've had too much sun."
"I'm fine," he said, batting his hands away.
"Leave him be, Denmark." By the way Norway glanced to Iceland, it was almost as if he knew what he'd been thinking about. But for all his magic, as far as Iceland knew, mind-reading wasn't one of his talents.
That didn't stop the flush from deepening a shade as he sank down onto the picnic blanket Norway had spread out.
Denmark took a spot next to Iceland, sliding an arm around his shoulders so Iceland could nestle against him, as if to make up for teasing him. For a moment, Iceland wondered if he ought to protest. But that was more Norway's kind of thing, wasn't it. And Iceland didn't actually mind.
He curled up close to him, relaxing against Denmark.
Beside him, Norway sat close, pouring coffee into the lid of the thermos. He took a sip from the mug, then passed it over. Iceland did the same, passing it on to Denmark.
The coffee was black and strong, and the moment was quiet.
It was the kind of moment that suited all three of them, but in a way, it was Norway's way more than anyone else's. As it usually was. Iceland thought about bringing that up. Thought again about what he'd considered in the car, about how it was always Norway or Denmark. Not Iceland.
It would ruin the moment, Iceland told himself. Don't bother. This is nice, being right here like this, and if you open your mouth and come out with that it'll raise a whole lot of questions, like why didn't you say something before, and why do you feel that way, and why isn't this enough. Besides, they won't get it at all.
A kiss brushed against his hair. Iceland turned his head a bit, blinking at Denmark. "What was that for?"
"Ya' seem tense, is all." Another light brush.
"'M fine," Iceland murmured.
"You're sure? 'Cause -"
"He's fine."
Norway. Iceland glanced over at him, and wasn't surprised to see Norway watching him, his face having that thoughtful, flat look that it sometimes got. It was a 'We'll talk later' sort of look. The kind of look that said he knew that something was up, even if he didn't know exactly what.
Iceland nestled closer into Denmark's arms. He didn't doubt that Norway would bring it up later. For the moment, he didn't really want to think about it any more.
That night, Iceland found it difficult to sleep. He stared up at the ceiling for hours, listening to the sound of birds and frogs and insects outside, and the sound of Norway and Denmark's breathing.
The bed was barely big enough for the three of them. Not like back when they used to be able to sleep three to a bed with room to spare. But those had been different times, and Iceland wouldn't trade the present for it – even if now he had to face the problem of two warm bodies trapping him between them. Not a problem on a cold night. But now, it was less than ideal.
Carefully, Iceland slipped away from the bed, wriggling down to the end of it so he could slink out without disturbing anyone.
He stepped silently into the kitchen. While the bedroom had been pitch black from the curtains over the window, they'd been left drawn back in the kitchen. The sky beyond was dark enough to be called a proper night, but soon there would be a hint of brightness on the horizon.
Iceland looked out for a moment, then decided he wanted a better view.
After rummaging around for a Coke and a lantern, he pulled on a jacket, slipped into his shoes, and went outside.
The outdoors was much louder once he was actually in it, the birdcalls sharper. Wind brushed the treetops. Out there somewhere, an owl called.
Iceland sank down onto the patio bench beside the cabin, cracked the tab on his cola, and listened.
Peace and quiet. Maybe he'd needed a little bit of that. Norway and Denmark were better at giving people space than some nations were, but that didn't mean that being in close quarters with them couldn't be a bit much. And not only because it meant being physically close together.
Some things had changed about their relationship after Iceland declared his independence. But some things hadn't. Not the way those guys didn't seem to take him seriously, not as much as they should. Not the way they seemed to see him as a part of themselves.
Then again, Iceland thought, could he blame them for that? He frowned to himself, and took another sip of Coke, letting the fizzy sweetness bite at his tongue. It hadn't even been a hundred years since he'd made himself his own. And their personal relationship – the way that it was – was very recent, too, much more recent than that. All of it was still fresh, still new.
Maybe they all just needed more time to get used to things.
The sound of footsteps came from inside. Somebody tramping around. Iceland tilted his head and listened, wondering if whoever it was had gotten up for their own reasons, or if somebody had come looking for him. Maybe they wouldn't come out and look for him. Maybe they would go back to bed.
No dice. After a moment, the cabin door opened, and out came Denmark.
"There you are." Denmark flashed him a smile that would have been dazzling in daylight. In the light from the moon and the weak glow from Iceland's lantern, it was barely visible. "Mind if I join you?"
Iceland hesitated. He could feel heat creeping across his cheeks as if somehow, by going outside like this, he'd done something embarrassing. He dropped his gaze, wondering. If he said no, then there wouldn't be a problem. But there would be questions. And would company be so bad? Maybe not.
"Go ahead," he said finally, and moved aside to give him room.
Denmark sank down beside him, large and warm in the night. Iceland glanced at him, took a long look. He seemed tired, but not overly so, still smiling. By the look of it, he'd thrown on the clothes he'd worn the day before. Somehow, that made Iceland feel even smaller, even childish, sitting there as he was with a jacket thrown over his lightweight summer pajamas.
Stop it, he told himself. Stop being self-concious about every little thing. You're being ridiculous.
For a while, they sat together, staying quiet and enjoying the night. As usual, Denmark put his arm around Iceland's shoulders, and Iceland leaned into it. He didn't say anything, and Denmark didn't either – he just kept looking up at the stars, face relaxed, like he had all the time in the world.
Well. Maybe that was right.
Iceland picked at the tab on his Coke can and waited. It was only a matter of time before Denmark would start talking. And -
"So how're you feeling, anyway?"
There it was.
Iceland took a moment to reply, fidgeting with the tab as he tried to fix his expression into a look that said the question didn't matter at all. "I'm all right," he said. And it didn't sound confident, because it never did, but it wasn't a lie, either.
"Ya' sure? You were quieter than usual today."
"You were asleep for half of it," Iceland said. He gave him a nudge. "So how would you know?"
Denmark laughed. "Okay, fine." Then he dipped his head, kissing at Iceland's hair, then his cheek. "But if there is something bugging you...."
He let the suggestion hang, and for a moment Iceland thought about taking him up on it. About telling him that sometimes it didn't really seem like they were all on the same level. And also that they should go camping in Iceland next summer. But he didn't say any of that, and leaned into Denmark, edging closer in his seat so that he could curl up against his body. "I know," Iceland said, and that, at least, was the truth.
They stayed out there for a while longer, not saying much, looking up at the sky. Eventually, the colour of the night lightened, and the brightness at the horizon became brighter. They gathered their things and, a little reluctantly, went back in. Iceland didn't relish the thought of being squished in between Denmark and Norway again, so he opted to take the couch for what was left of the night, and waved Denmark off to the bedroom.
Iceland closed the curtains and wrapped up in one of Norway's knitted throw blankets. As he made himself comfortable on the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling and decided that things hadn't gone badly, even if it had been a little awkward.
When morning finally came, it came in the form of the scent of coffee brewing, and sunlight hitting Iceland smack in the eyes as Norway twitched open a curtain to look outside. Iceland groaned and covered his face, then peeked up between his fingers at Norway, who was looking out at the world with his usual unreadable expression.
"Good... morning?" Iceland ventured.
"G'morning." Norway's gaze flickered down toward him, taking in Iceland's sleepy, morning-bleary appearance, before looking outside again. "Slept all right, did you?"
It was said in the sort of way that meant he knew exactly why Iceland was on the sofa, and what had happened last night, and no matter what Iceland might say in response, Norway would see right through him.
"...It was okay," Iceland said, which was the truth. The sofa was much better than being squished between Denmark and Norway. He sat up, sweeping his hair out of his face.
"Good," Norway said. He looked like he might say more, but instead he let the curtain fall, then bent to kiss Iceland's forehead. "Breakfast'll be ready soon."
It was ready very soon, and it was good, and Iceland found that he could forgive an awkward wakeup with Norway in exchange for eggs done the way he liked them and delicious, perfect coffee.
The day was quiet, lazy. Norway disappeared well into the morning, and both Denmark and Iceland knew better than to go looking for him. Gone off to be with his thoughts, as usual.
Denmark dragged Iceland out for a walk. He'd put in some token protest at first, saying he wanted to catch up on the sleep he'd missed, but Denmark would hear none of it – and even if under other circumstances this might have been incredibly annoying, Iceland didn't mind being outside.
And the company wasn't bad.
Denmark talked, and talked. Iceland walked with hands in the pockets of his jacket, pretending to listen, knowing that he didn't have to. Mountain flowers and grasses surrounded them. Iceland counted the bees while they went, and found himself glad to realize that there seemed to be more of them around than the previous year.
Finally, there was a lull in Denmark's talking, and they soon were both equally quiet, with no sound except their footsteps.
Iceland thought. He thought about the things that had been making him feel insecure and restless. He thought about the way that he felt. He thought abut walking like this, with Denmark, and how there wasn't really that much of a change between the way they'd been before the three of them started their relationship, and after. Or was there?
He could ask. He should talk about it. There wasn't anything wrong with seeing what Denmark thought about the whole thing, and besides, he had said that Iceland could talk to him about anything.
And he wasn't Norway. Denmark didn't look at him as if he could read Iceland's mind. That helped.
Iceland opened his mouth. Shut it. Tried again.
"Um," he managed.
"Hmm?" Denmark turned to look at him. "What's that, Ice?"
"Nothing," Iceland lied. His cheeks flushed hot, the warmth creeping over his ears and down his neck.
"I see!" Said in the sort of cheerful way that made it clear that Denmark didn't believe a word of it. "All right."
When Denmark didn't press him, Iceland took one deep breath, then another. Keep cool, he told himself. You can do this. "You know," Iceland said. "I think... Sometimes I feel like you guys don't think of me as somebody separate from you."
"Huh! How do you mean?"
It wasn't the response Iceland had hoped for, but it wasn't bad. Iceland swallowed. "I... um."
How could he say it? It was something almost impossible to describe, and something Denmark probably wouldn't understand at all. "I feel like sometimes you, both of you, just get me to tag along with things because that's how it's always been, even now that we're... you know. Like you still think of me as part of you, so I have to be there."
"What?" A pause as Denmark took a moment to process that. "That's how you really feel about it?"
"I guess," Iceland mumbled. He should have known it wasn't reasonable to expect him to get it. He shouldn't have said anything at all. This was Denmark, and he was... himself, and it was just -
"Let's sit for a bit," Denmark said.
"Sure," Iceland said. Great, he thought, now this is going to be awkward.
So they found a flat, grassy spot. And they sat. And neither of them said anything. Denmark was quiet, and Iceland wondered if he should be suspicious. It wasn't like Denmark to be silent most of the time. But he did get like that with serious things. Maybe he considered this serious. There was a thoughtful look on Denmark's face, a furrowing of his brow that usually happened when he was thinking really hard.
"Nor said something like that, once," Denmark said eventually.
"What?" Iceland asked. He had been slipping tufts of grass through his fingers, and Denmark's words made him still, looking at him with surprise. The thought of Norway feeling anything like what he'd tried to tell Denmark was a little too weird for him to contemplate. "What do you mean?"
"He said something about feeling like he wasn't separate. Mostly from Sweden, but I kinda' think he meant me too. Didn't say as much, but he made it pretty damn clear." Denmark swept his fingers through his hair and frowned uncomfortably. "This was all a while back – no long after he and Sweden split, I guess. You weren't around for that conversation."
No, Iceland thought. He would have remembered Norway saying something like that.
"Took him a while to figure himself out, maybe," Denmark continued. "Like he was suddenly independent and then he had to learn who he was all over again."
"Maybe." Iceland tried to think back to those days. He hadn't seen Norway often, and when he did, his brother had seemed distracted and distant. Had Norway been unsure of himself then? "So. You're saying you think I'm still figuring myself out?" Iceland asked, edging over after a moment to sit closer to Denmark.
"Sure. But that's not all of it." Denmark lifted a hand to touch Iceland's hair, sliding his fingers through the strands. "Ya' might be right about still feeling like you're part of me. I still catch myself thinking of you that way sometimes, even though you're on your own. Wouldn't dream've actually acting it, though. Just takes some getting used to, is all."
Iceland leaned into the touch. Not at first. He let it sit for a moment, uncertain whether he wanted that or not. But in the end, cuddling up to Denmark was too tempting. "At least you realize it," he said. "So, since you realize it, you can, um. Try to take me more seriously. Or..." He clamped down, forced himself not to continue, the childish 'or something' left unsaid. Like Denmark had told him, he was on his own; he was an independent nation. At the very least he should try to talk like one.
"I won't just try. I'll do it!" Denmark grinned as he said it, and slid his arm around Iceland's shoulders. The declaration was a bit much, a little too firm, but at the moment, the thought counted. Before Iceland could respond, Denmark continued, that thoughtful note in his voice again. "...Y'should talk to Norway too, y'know. Reckon he should hear about this."
Norway. Of course. Denmark was only half of it. "I never know whether the weird feelings I get are because of the dependency thing or because Norway's... Norway."
Denmark scrubbed a hand down his face, making a soft sound of acknowledgement.
"Weird guy, Norway. Hard to know what he's thinking."
"Especially since he always looks like he knows what I'm thinking," Iceland said. He thought back to all the moments that Norway looked at him, quiet and still, as if he knew everything.
"And he looks like he doesn't like what's going on in your head?" Denmark said.
"Sometimes." Iceland sighed. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed that Denmark had him figured out, or relieved that he wasn't the only one who felt that way.
"That's just Nor bein' Nor." Brushing a kiss to Iceland's hair Denmark seemed confident that it wasn't anything more than that. "Ya' don't need to worry about that. 'S like that with me too, ain't he? And Sweden. And everyone."
Iceland settled closer into Denmark's hold. For a moment, he didn't reply, turning the thought over in his head.
Living with those two had been a challenge. So many prolonged absences. So many discussions held behind closed doors. Discussions that by rights should have involved him, but didn't. Glances between Norway and Denmark, and things left unsaid, or unexplained. He also remembered the quiet way Norway looked at Denmark sometimes, as if he could guess at what he was going to say before anything came out of his mouth.
"Maybe you're right," Iceland said.
"I know I am," Denmark said cheerfully.
Fingertips brushed against Iceland's cheek. He turned his head, and accepted the kiss Denmark offered him, soft and light.
Maybe he'd been overthinking everything. But it felt good to talk about it. The twisty feeling in his insides had eased a bit. All that was left was Norway.
The rest of the day passed quickly. Iceland and Denmark spent most of it outside, enjoying the landscape and drinking in the fresh mountain air. When they returned to the cabin, they found a note on the kitchen counter.
Norway had gone out for a bit. Again.
On the way back, Iceland had kept thinking about what to say to Norway. How could he bring it up? And what exactly was it that he really wanted to tell him, anyway? All of the feelings were a tangled mess that he was still having trouble sorting out, even if he did feel better about everything after the talk with Denmark.
Now, he'd have to wait. Again.
Iceland chewed at his lip, re-read Norway's note, and tried to shove down the weird feeling of disappointment. It would have been nice to get the conversation over with.
"Don't worry about it, Ice," Denmark said, coiling his long arms around him from behind. "Ya' can bring it up with him later, yeah? No problem."
'No problem'. That was Denmark's usual approach to things. Sometimes, it didn't work out for him. But other times, it did.
Sighing, Iceland leaned back against him, letting his eyes fall shut. "I'll try to be patient," he said, nestling into the reassuring warmth of Denmark's arms.
But being patient was easier said than done.
Norway returned later that day without comment, looking fresh as a daisy even though he had apparently been out all day. He greeted Iceland with a kiss to the cheek, asking how he'd been, and Iceland's tongue stuck in his mouth as he tried to think of what to say.
"Fine," he settled for. "It was nice out. We had a good walk." And nothing about how he really, really needed to talk to him.
Norway gave a long, quiet look, but if he had any idea what Iceland was thinking, he didn't comment on it.
He didn't comment on it the next day, either. Or the next. Or the one after that.
Holding his tongue, Iceland tried to think of the right way to ask Norway to have a talk. It wasn't easy. He kept thinking of different ways to bring it up, and eventually all the possible conversation openers got muddled together in his mind. It didn't help that every so often, Denmark's gaze went over to him, eyebrows lifting as if to question when exactly Iceland was going to get on with it.
Norway kept looking at him, too. Catching his eye. Giving Iceland a look as if he he knew that something was going on.
It was unnerving.
One night, it finally came up.
Norway and Denmark were playing chess at the kitchen table, sunlight streaming in through the windows. Iceland, draped over the sofa with a book, had been ignoring them for a while. Ignoring them, that is, until he felt eyes on him. Slowly, Iceland lowered his book, and met Norway's gaze.
He was turned slightly toward Iceland, head resting against one hand while he waited for Denmark to make his move on the chessboard. There was something intense about that look, something that made Iceland feel like an insect pinned to a board.
"Ought to go out with me tomorrow," Norway said. "In the boat. How's that sound?"
The words stuck in Iceland's mouth, and at the same time, he could feel his face heating under Norway's gaze. Somehow, even when he was being so casual, he managed to look both intensely intimidating and intensely attractive. "Okay," Iceland managed, finally. The word felt heavier than it was. "In the morning?"
"That's right."
It was nothing much, but Iceland knew that was when he would do it. When he would take his chance. He was sure that Norway had made the suggestion knowing that there was something that he wanted to talk about, and while Iceland wasn't thrilled about having to be guided like that, it was more important to get it done.
With that, it was settled. Almost, but not quite, like a date. In the room, wood clicked on wood, and Norway turned to look at the chess board. His face gave away nothing, but a second later he executed a move, and Denmark let out a groan of frustration.
"You're gonna kick my ass again."
"Looks so."
"Unless..." And Denmark descended into a quiet, brows furrowing in concentration as he stared at the board, as if it might reveal its secrets.
Later that night, when Denmark had already gone to bed, Norway slipped into the living room. Iceland had claimed the couch again, setting it up with a pillow and the throw blankets. He looked up from his book and started to ask what Norway wanted – but Norway stopped him with two fingers to his lips.
Obediently, Iceland stopped.
In the soft light, Norway watched him. Then he dipped his head. Cupped Iceland's face. Pressed a kiss to his lips. Then another, and another, soft and slow.
In that moment, Iceland wondered if he should tell him right then. If he should bring it up. The moment was private enough, quiet enough. With Norway so close, it wouldn't be hard – all he had to do was sit up, say he wanted a talk, then bring it all forward.
But while as he was working up the nerve to do it, Norway drew away, murmuring, "G'night, Ice."
"...G'night," Iceland said, practically breathing the word as Norway straightened and went back to the bedroom, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and the words he hadn't said.
The next morning, Norway roused him bright and early. After Iceland's initial grumbling, they stuffed their faces with breakfast, packed a lunch, and headed down to the water.
In the early morning air, the fjord was crisp and calm. The sunlight was thin and gentle on Iceland's face, the surface of the water still.
Norway brought them out in the small boat, silent as it slipped through the water. Iceland didn't look at him; he just looked out at the land surrounding them – but then again, that was exactly the same as looking at Norway, wasn't it.
The thought made Iceland flush in spite of the cool air, and he made even more of a point of looking away, directing his gaze out so Norway wouldn't see his face. The thought that he might was embarrassing.
Iceland waited for Norway to comment, but nothing came. The moment passed. When Iceland, recovering from his embarrassment, glanced toward Norway, he saw that he had his expression set in one of concentration, with his eyes sharp and serious as he steered the little boat along the water.
It wasn't until Norway brought them to their destination, and he turned off the engine, that he said anything. "Now, then. What's on your mind?"
The water was still. Quiet. Iceland stared at Norway, then looked at the shore again. Bright and green, rising up on both sides as if to meet at the top and cover them both. "I don't know what you mean," he lied.
"That so."
"It's so."
"If it's nothing', you could look at me, then."
"I'm already looking at you."
Norway snorted. "Fair enough," he said.
A smile tugged at Iceland's lips. At least he'd won that one.
They said nothing else for a while. Dipped lines into the water, waiting for bites. Silent, even though they weren't serious about trying to catch anything. Not today.
Knowing Norway, he wouldn't let it rest until Iceland explained himself. The thought made his mouth twist into a frown and he wondered how it might go if he stubbornly didn't say anything at all.
For a while, he said nothing. Closed his eyes and let the cold air wash over him, listened to the sound of the water lapping at the edge of the boat, and wondered what to say.
"You know, sometimes I feel like you're judging me for the smallest things," Iceland said eventually. He kept his gaze on the mountains, didn't turn to look at Norway.
Silence. Iceland steeled himself, waiting for the reply. Some comment. Something.
"Oh?" That was all. The sound of Norway turning to look at him. "Go on, then."
He could picture his expression. Those sharp eyes. That carefully blank face. Why on earth did Norway have to be so composed all the time? It wasn't fair!
Iceland let out a long breath. Put his fishing rod between his knees so he could fiddle with his sleeves, pulling his hands into them. Unable to stay still, not under the gaze that he could feel coming from Norway's direction.
"I know you're like this with everybody," Iceland said. "But I... Like, that doesn't make it better. Whenever you straighten my clothes or fix my hair or comment on things I'm doing, it makes me feel like nothing's changed with us. ...Even though it has."
Quiet again for a moment. Then – "Reminds you of when I had leave to tell you what to do. 'S that what you mean?"
"I guess." Iceland tugged at his sleeves again, twisting his fingers in the fabric. He remembered a time two centuries ago. Norway and Denmark having a talk. He tried to sneak past them without being noticed – only for Norway to send him back to his room to change, because it wasn't acceptable for someone of his station to wear trousers rather than breeches.
It had been embarrassing then. But now... "When you get like that, I feel – I don't know. Like I'm still just a dependency. Even if I'm not."
Norway said nothing. There was a long, silent moment. Iceland waited. Listened. Took up his fishing pole again, now that he'd said everything he needed to say, even though it sounded so stupid when he really thought about it.
Still nothing. Finally, Iceland looked over at his brother. He met Norway's eyes, and his heart leapt into his mouth. Norway's expression was calm, quiet, thoughtful – as if he'd really bothered to give it some thought. As if he'd listened and taken it seriously. One nod, then Norway looked away again – but somehow, that one look was enough.
Iceland bit his lip. Still, there must be something.
He waited for criticism, but it didn't come.
Norway had diverted his attention to his line again, sending it out once more, though it was clear by now that they were unlikely to catch any fish. When he spoke, it wasn't about Iceland.
"When I was independent again," Norway said, not bothering to look at him, "I kept myself away from Denmark. And Sweden, too."
"I know," Iceland said. "Denmark was confused about it. He kept trying to send letters to you, and you never responded. He was really upset."
"Needed some time to myself." He wasn't looking at Iceland. He had his gaze on the shore, hair falling into his face. "After all that, I figured I needed time to set myself right. 'N those two – bein' what our relationship was. How long I was under them. It'd take some adjusting, I figured. It'd take some time for them to see me aright."
Iceland listened, waited. He knew it. This was nothing new. But he'd never given it much thought before. Of course Norway separated himself from the others. At the time, it made perfect sense. But... "You're saying it's the same," he said. "You and me."
"You were twenty years independent before you came to me and said you wanted to have things close," Norway said quietly. "'S like a blink for folk like us. Now, that decision of yours is your own, starting things between us so soon. But it does take some getting used to." He turned to look at him then, an earnestly apologetic look in his eyes. "I'll see about keepin' myself in check with you."
Iceland swallowed hard. The urge to say it was fine, that he didn't need to worry about it, that it was okay, all of that bubbled up but he bit his lower lip to stop it. Waited a moment. Breathed. "Okay," Iceland said. And it was okay. "Um... I don't mind it sometimes," he added, mumbling a bit. "You fixing my hair and stuff. Just. It's how much. Or if there's anyone around. That's all."
"Okay."
"Okay." Norway was still watching him, as if he knew there was something else. Iceland looked down at the bottom of the boat, then up at the sky, then out at the shore – anywhere except at Norway. "Um," he said. Wet his lips. Felt both conscious and self-conscious, and the way Norway was looking at him didn't help. "Next year. I... could you and Denmark come by my place next year? I have some decent camping spots at my place. We could... You know. Change things up a little."
Norway made a hum of acknowledgement. "Goin' to your place rather than here, you mean."
"Yeah." Iceland found himself fiddling with his sleeves again. He could feel warmth flooding his cheeks and ears as he waited, sure that the answer would be a negative. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have just -
"Don't see why not."
"I – what?" Iceland looked over at Norway, unsure he'd heard him correctly. "You want to?"
Norway raised an eyebrow at him. Smiled a little. "You'd have to be sure on the weather, mind you. Can be unpredictable at your place. But I'd like it. Bet Denmark will too. A change of pace won't hurt none."
Iceland felt like a fool. He also felt relieved. He wanted to kiss him – but he knew better than to move too much and rock the boat. Instead, he offered a smile, letting it spread wide and as warm as he felt. "Okay."
In the end, they didn't catch any fish.
Iceland wasn't surprised in the least. Norway grumbled as he brought the boat in toward the shore, but Iceland could tell by the look of him that he didn't really mind. This little outing hadn't been about catching something for supper.
"Goin' to have to get Denmark to put together something else tonight," Norway said as they made their way on the path back to the cabin.
"Mmhm." Iceland stepped closer to him.
"Did y'tell him? About all that. During your walk yesterday."
"Yeah." Their hands brushed, and his insides fluttered in a warm, familiar way when Norway responded by linking Iceland's fingers with his own. "We talked it over. Um. It was a little easier to tell him about it than you."
"Oh?" A gentle squeeze of his hand. Like Norway understood.
"Yeah."
"On account've being intimidating."
"Right."
Norway said nothing.
Iceland glanced at him. There was nothing frosty about his quiet. And he didn't look annoyed. Norway squeezed his hand again, and Iceland found he was satisfied with that.
They stayed quiet until they came within sight of the cabin. Nearby, the sound of an axe hitting wood could be heard.
Iceland looked at Norway. As if reading his thoughts, his brother nodded.
They slipped around the side of the cabin, peeking through the trees as if they had no cause to be there.
Denmark was cutting wood. Up the axe went, then down, splitting the log neatly. Then another. He'd thrown on a snug sleeveless shirt, and for a moment Iceland and Norway stood watching, following the movement of his body. The shift of his muscles. The flex of his arms.
Norway leaned in close, murmuring by Iceland's ear. "We could have some fun later. Tonight."
Iceland turned to him, somehow managing to drag his eyes away from the sight. He parted his lips to ask, but before he could get a word out, Norway put his fingers to his lips. Nodded once toward Denmark. Smiled.
Iceland felt his ears burning, but he couldn't help but grin.
Concentrating on anything was almost impossible for the rest of the day. Iceland held on to Norway's hints, and it was hard not to get flustered every time he looked at Denmark, who seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Iceland and Norway had been watching him. At one point in the afternoon, Denmark had taken him aside, leaning in close to ask conspiratorially, "Did ya' have a chance to talk to Nor?"
"Yeah." In truth, everything that had been bothering him had hardly been on Iceland's mind since that conversation on the boat – and as he thought of that, he realized how much the weight had lifted off him. "I feel a lot better about it now. Just talking it over helped." He shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed.
"See? Sometimes you just have to do it." Denmark dipped his head to kiss him, and once again Iceland thought of what Norway had said – but about vacation, and about what they might get to that evening.
Well.
Maybe Denmark was right.
By the time night rolled around, Iceland started to think that Norway might have let Denmark know that they both had something in mind.
They both kept close to him, touching him for the smallest reason, or no reason at all. Stealing kisses at every moment that presented itself. It wasn't unusual for them to pay him so much attention, but after how tense Iceland had been feeling over the last few days, it came as a bit of a relief to be on the receiving end of it.
Eventually, Denmark took his hand, and Norway nudged them both toward the bedroom.
The shades had been down all day to keep the room cool. Now, Norway went over and drew them up, cracked the window open a bit, letting in air and enough light to see by.
Then he went to turn down the covers on the bed.
Iceland's eyes followed him until he was distracted by Denmark. Denmark in front of him, large gentle hands cupping his face, tilting Iceland's head up as he bent down to kiss him.
It was soft and brief, and when they parted, Iceland leaned in to him, letting his arms coil around Denmark's waist.
"I heard you were gettin' an eyeful today," Denmark said. He stayed close, lips by Iceland's ear, his voice as quiet as he was ever capable of making it, which wasn't much, but it was the thought that counted.
Iceland felt himself flush scarlet. "Um," he said.
"I don't mind, y'know. ...And I did notice you were looking."
"Could always look some more," Norway suggested. He'd finished puttering around and had slunk up behind Iceland, insinuating his arms around his waist. "Give him a show, mayhaps." And that was said to Denmark.
Iceland found his tongue tied. As it always seem to be at times like this. The grin that spread over Denmark's face didn't help – but it sure didn't hurt either.
"What d'ya think, Ice?"
What did he think?
There, looking at Denmark in what little sunlight came in from the window, strips of brightness across his skin. That smile. And Norway's body pressed against his own, Norway's lips near Iceland's ear, Norway's arms coiled around his waist.
Iceland swallowed.
He knew that soon he'd be doing more than looking.
"Sounds good," he said, feeling like it was hardly above a whisper. But it must have been enough, because Denmark set to work.
Off came the shirt. Slowly. Making a show of it, drawing it up, letting Iceland take the time to follow with his eyes as bit by bit fabric revealed skin, strips of sunlight sharp and bright over flesh and muscle. Nothing he hadn't seen before. Still, it was different to let himself drink in the sight. To know that it was for him.
Iceland swallowed hard and kept looking. Watched as those broad, familiar hands went to his belt.
There was warmth on his skin, Norway's breath fluttering over his ear. Iceland wasn't the only one watching. "Ought to have a go with him," Norway said, his lips brushing against Iceland's ear, his hands settling low on his hips. "What d'you think?"
Iceland wet his lower lip. "And you?"
There was a pause. "I might have summat in mind." Whispered and soft, as Norway's hand slid along the line of Iceland's hip.
"And that would be... what?" Iceland asked. He tried to keep it cool, tried to keep his voice steady as he watched Denmark's trousers fall to the floor. As Norway's hands slowly, deftly undid the button on his pants.
Norway told him.
Iceland said yes.
Denmark's mouth was warm and eager and pliant.
It was just like the rest of him, sprawled out over the bed, his arms wrapped around Iceland's shoulders, his strong legs spread wide.
Iceland ignored the flush on his cheeks. Tried to, anyway. Allowing himself to indulge himself didn't always come easy – but it helped to have a partner who was so enthusiastic.
He broke the kiss, nuzzling at Denmark's neck, listening to the sound of his breathing, the way it quickened as Iceland slid his hands along his thighs, gently pushing them open a little bit wider.
"C'mon, Ice," Denmark panted, "You aren't going to be a tease, are ya?"
Iceland couldn't help but grin, sweeping his tongue over Denmark's throat. "I might," he said, keeping his voice low-toned and, he hoped, sultry. In truth he wasn't sure just how much he could stand taking his time. From the moment Norway had reached around to start opening Iceland's pants for him, he'd been hard and ready to go. It would have been embarrassing if Denmark wasn't the same. His dick was flushed and firm. At least Iceland wasn't the only one who was eager.
He slipped his hand between them, sliding it along Denmark's skin until he caressed his cock, gave it a good stroke. He got a moan in response, Denmark rocking into the touch. Tilting his head back, baring his neck even more to Iceland's mouth.
"Can ya' believe this guy?" Denmark panted, tilting his head a little so he could look over at Norway.
"Quit your fussin'." There was the sound of shifting fabric as Norway undressed. He'd been watching, Iceland realized. "You won't have to wait all that long."
"He's almost as much of a tease as you."
Iceland rolled his eyes. Kissed Denmark to shut him up, which worked. At least, it did until Iceland moved his hand, touched him again, brushed his thumb over the head of Denmark's cock, already damp and eager. He gasped deeply against Iceland's mouth. Whimpered. Clung to him. And when Iceland broke it, he didn't stop clinging.
"You're ready?" Iceland said, tilting his head to whisper by his ear.
"Am I ever," Denmark groaned, rocking up into his hand.
Quiet footsteps, then light pressure on the mattress announced Norway's arrival. Iceland looked up.
Norway glanced down at Denmark. Smiled a bit. Then handed Iceland the tube of lubricant, his expression straight. "He ain't ready yet," Norway said. Then he tilted his head closer, lips brushing against Iceland's ear. "And neither are you."
It was hard to concentrate. Ordinarily, all of it – the act of getting ready would be overwhelming in itself, sliding his fingers inside Denmark's warm, eager body, feeling his deep moans against his mouth as he kissed him. But Iceland had other things to draw his attention this time, too.
Norway's lips on his shoulder. Norway behind him, one hand steady at his hip. And the other hand....
Iceland whimpered against Denmark's mouth and slid his legs open wider to ease the way.
It was overwhelming when they got going. The sensation of Norway inside of him, and the heat of Denmark's body as Iceland thrust into him in turn, was overwhelming. The thought of this, the idea of being between them like this, had crossed Iceland's mind more than once. But he'd never said anything, even after they'd done so many other intimate things together. Sex was one thing, sex with both of them was another, but this was something else altogether.
Norway had read Iceland's mind again. But for this, it was different, and Iceland couldn't be happier.
It took a while to find the right rhythm, but when they did, it was incredible. Iceland moved to the sensation of Norway thrusting into him, rolling his hips against Denmark, gasping as Denmark rocked up to take him in deeper. He could feel Norway's breath hot at the back of his neck. Heard him gasp, echoed by Denmark's low moaning.
Iceland closed his eyes and lost himself between them.
"How d'you feel?" Norway asked, brushing a kiss against Iceland's temple.
They had cleaned up. Changed the sheets. Sprawled on the bed together – just enough room to curl up together.
Denmark was nestled against Iceland's side, dozing. Norway was on the other, one arm draped over Iceland's waist. Evening light filtered in through the partially-closed curtains, and in spite of cleaning up after they were done, Iceland felt hot and sticky.
He couldn't bring himself to care.
"I feel...." Iceland swept his tongue over his lip. It was hard to put it into words. Norway didn't help, either, not with his fingers trailing through Iceland's hair, slipping slowly through the strands. But this time, Iceland didn't mind at all. "Feels good," he said softly, meaning more than only the sensation.
A low sound from Norway. Little more than the flutter of breath. "Okay," he said. His fingers stroked Iceland's cheek. Trailed soft contact down his neck, then lower, until it rested, fingers splayed on Iceland's chest. "That's what I'd hoped for, y'know. ...Not just with this."
Iceland took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut. He could feel the warm of Denmark and Norway's bodies next to him, nestled against his own. The conversation they'd had on the lake echoed in his mind.
"I know," he said.
For a moment he rested there, feeling awkward, wondering if he should say something else. Norway was quiet, like he was listening. Waiting.
Iceland moved. Took Norway's hand, then turned over so he could kiss him. Norway sighed against his mouth, soft and pliant, and that in itself – at that moment, it was almost better than anything else that had happened that evening.
Whatever happened between them, Iceland thought as he cupped Norway's cheek and kept him there, kissing him deeper. Whatever happened, they'd all work it out.
Together.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-17 03:08 pm (UTC)It might seem weird, but was struck me the most about this fic was actually the perfect encapsulation of mountain vacations. I've never been to Norway, or even anywhere in the Nordic countries, but when I was a kid, my family used to spend a couple of months or so every summer in a nice little place we rented in the mountains, and here, I felt myself thinking back to those days, and feeling such a deep sense of recognition and familiarity for -- well, everything. The long, quiet drive you drift off but don't quite fall asleep on, the bright days and actually dark nights, the easy, rustic mornings and the walks into and through nature, the open water and clear air, all the green and the golden. I could picture everything so sharply, feel every little detail slot so easily into just the right place, that I honestly caught myself getting nostalgic.
Though, ofc, none of it managed to steal the show from Iceland, and his inner turmoil, and his relationship with Denmark and especially Norway. I loved all the subtle, smooth ways you worked so much characterization and history into such an apparently simple piece. I found myself feeling so much for Iceland and just wanting him to TALK!!! already but also dreading the moment(s) he'd have to actually do it along with him and thoroughly empathizing with his uncertainty and attempts to tell himself that maybe it'd be better to just keep his mouth shout so as not to risk ruining everything and ending up tangled in some terribly awkward conversation. And yet, at the same time, there was also so much going on with Norway and Denmark! I felt so relieved when they were all finally on the same page and could just relax and enjoy their time together after airing it all out, really. The last dialogue made me melt into a puddle of warm, fuzzy feels.
Also, the sex scene was INCREDIBLY hot. I was already a goner at the sunlight over Denmark's skin, and it just kept getting better from there!
I was kind of excited to see a fandom I was familiar with and a ship I'd always enjoyed on the IIBB comm, and now I'm just so happy I decided to read this even if it's been a while since the last time I dived into anything Hetalia. :D
no subject
Date: 2025-09-18 02:30 am (UTC)Not gonna lie, writing Iceland is sometimes an exasperating (if enjoyable) experience, 'cause on the one hand, "Dude, just speak your mind already", but on the other hand, he wouldn't. But he gets there eventually, haha!
Glad to hear that the ~atmosphere~ was effective; building up mood through setting is one of my favourite things to write!
I'm so glad you took a chance on reading this one and enjoyed it. :)