Accords [Norway/Belarus]
May. 17th, 2014 02:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Accords
Characters/Pairing: Norway/Belarus
Rating: 13+ for Belarus's imaginative threats
Length: 830 words
Summary: Belarus doesn't like touching, but she does like him.
Other: Written for APH rarepair week on tumblr. (Original post)
Accords
Belarus did not like hugs.
She didn't like holding hands, either. And kissing was right out of the question.
Her reasons for this - well, Norway didn't know, and he didn't ask, either. That was her business. He hadn't one doubt that if she wanted to talk about it, she'd bring the subject up herself.
Once, he'd tried kissing her. They had been seeing each other for a while then, if what they did could count as "seeing each other". It was a warm night; they'd been walking in the woods when Norway stopped in the middle of the path and asked her to look at him. She turned toward him, giving him an expectant look, like she thought he would say something insightful. The moon was full, and the light suited her.
He took a step closer to her, and tilted his head to kiss her.
That was what he meant to do, at least. She threw him against the nearest tree before he so much as touched her.
While Norway slumped down to the forest floor, his back against the trunk of the old spruce that she'd slammed him against, Belarus walked over and stood over him. "If you do that again," she said, "I will rip out your tongue and your eyes and your balls and send them to your brothers in pickle jars."
"I see." Pickle jars, Norway thought blearily as he stared up at her. Really. It was a nice touch. "Understood."
"Good."
To his surprise, she held out her hand. After a second, Norway grasped it, and she hauled him up. As soon as he was to his feet, she let go of him abruptly, and turned to continue in the direction they had been walking, toward his house. But the fact that she had helped him up at all said what she didn't say.
They had an accord. For Norway, that was enough.
Two mugs. Two lanterns. A teapot.
Out on the patio, the air was pleasantly cool. The sky was bright, with the moon up like it was, and in truth they didn't need the lanterns.
Norway poured tea for Belarus, and then for himself, and sat down beside her on the patio bench. Not too close; he knew better now than to get too close. That night a year ago, on a night exactly like this one, had taught him how she preferred things.
That was fine with him.
She had been quiet for the entire day. Norway had taken her out in his boat, and neither of them had said much of anything. It suited him. Better, as far as he was concerned, if his guests weren't chatterboxes.
Now, like earlier, Belarus said nothing. She sat beside of him, her mug of tea cupped gently in her hands, looking up at the sky. Norway glanced at her. She looked just as good as she had on that night a year before, and if she were anyone else, he'd kiss her.
But he was content enough with their treaty, and he'd like for his balls to stay where they were. So he rested back against the bench, drank his tea, and looked at the sky.
"Norway," Belarus said after a while of this. "How would you say 'I am fond of you' in your language?"
Norway bit at his lip. Her voice was firm, like it usually was, but not sharp, like it sometimes would be. He felt as if she were looking at him out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't dare look. "It depends," he said. "On how ya' mean that."
"You know exactly what I mean!" she spat, and if he hadn't a second before, that told him everything. "When there is someone whose company you keep, even if he is rude, stubborn, arrogant, proud, narcissistic, and..." She stopped, groping for another insult.
"Egotistical?" Norway offered, forcing himself not to smile.
"Exactly." She took one last sip of her tea, then put the mug on the sidetable and sat back, folding her hands in her lap. "Because in spite of that, you are... fond of him."
"I see." He breathed deeply and didn't look at her. Had she only said that, it would have been more than enough for him. But by her expectant silence, he could tell that she wanted him to answer her. "Jeg er glad i deg," he said quietly.
A moment passed. Then, slowly, Belarus edged over on the bench and leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Jeg er glad i deg," she said. Her words were thickly-accented, but she said them firmly, as if daring him to correct her.
Norway nodded. "Understood," he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he accepted it for what it was. He wouldn't take the bait. It was good enough to hear it.
"Good."
It was another agreement. This one, Norway decided, was better than the last one.
Characters/Pairing: Norway/Belarus
Rating: 13+ for Belarus's imaginative threats
Length: 830 words
Summary: Belarus doesn't like touching, but she does like him.
Other: Written for APH rarepair week on tumblr. (Original post)
Accords
Belarus did not like hugs.
She didn't like holding hands, either. And kissing was right out of the question.
Her reasons for this - well, Norway didn't know, and he didn't ask, either. That was her business. He hadn't one doubt that if she wanted to talk about it, she'd bring the subject up herself.
Once, he'd tried kissing her. They had been seeing each other for a while then, if what they did could count as "seeing each other". It was a warm night; they'd been walking in the woods when Norway stopped in the middle of the path and asked her to look at him. She turned toward him, giving him an expectant look, like she thought he would say something insightful. The moon was full, and the light suited her.
He took a step closer to her, and tilted his head to kiss her.
That was what he meant to do, at least. She threw him against the nearest tree before he so much as touched her.
While Norway slumped down to the forest floor, his back against the trunk of the old spruce that she'd slammed him against, Belarus walked over and stood over him. "If you do that again," she said, "I will rip out your tongue and your eyes and your balls and send them to your brothers in pickle jars."
"I see." Pickle jars, Norway thought blearily as he stared up at her. Really. It was a nice touch. "Understood."
"Good."
To his surprise, she held out her hand. After a second, Norway grasped it, and she hauled him up. As soon as he was to his feet, she let go of him abruptly, and turned to continue in the direction they had been walking, toward his house. But the fact that she had helped him up at all said what she didn't say.
They had an accord. For Norway, that was enough.
Two mugs. Two lanterns. A teapot.
Out on the patio, the air was pleasantly cool. The sky was bright, with the moon up like it was, and in truth they didn't need the lanterns.
Norway poured tea for Belarus, and then for himself, and sat down beside her on the patio bench. Not too close; he knew better now than to get too close. That night a year ago, on a night exactly like this one, had taught him how she preferred things.
That was fine with him.
She had been quiet for the entire day. Norway had taken her out in his boat, and neither of them had said much of anything. It suited him. Better, as far as he was concerned, if his guests weren't chatterboxes.
Now, like earlier, Belarus said nothing. She sat beside of him, her mug of tea cupped gently in her hands, looking up at the sky. Norway glanced at her. She looked just as good as she had on that night a year before, and if she were anyone else, he'd kiss her.
But he was content enough with their treaty, and he'd like for his balls to stay where they were. So he rested back against the bench, drank his tea, and looked at the sky.
"Norway," Belarus said after a while of this. "How would you say 'I am fond of you' in your language?"
Norway bit at his lip. Her voice was firm, like it usually was, but not sharp, like it sometimes would be. He felt as if she were looking at him out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't dare look. "It depends," he said. "On how ya' mean that."
"You know exactly what I mean!" she spat, and if he hadn't a second before, that told him everything. "When there is someone whose company you keep, even if he is rude, stubborn, arrogant, proud, narcissistic, and..." She stopped, groping for another insult.
"Egotistical?" Norway offered, forcing himself not to smile.
"Exactly." She took one last sip of her tea, then put the mug on the sidetable and sat back, folding her hands in her lap. "Because in spite of that, you are... fond of him."
"I see." He breathed deeply and didn't look at her. Had she only said that, it would have been more than enough for him. But by her expectant silence, he could tell that she wanted him to answer her. "Jeg er glad i deg," he said quietly.
A moment passed. Then, slowly, Belarus edged over on the bench and leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Jeg er glad i deg," she said. Her words were thickly-accented, but she said them firmly, as if daring him to correct her.
Norway nodded. "Understood," he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he accepted it for what it was. He wouldn't take the bait. It was good enough to hear it.
"Good."
It was another agreement. This one, Norway decided, was better than the last one.
