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roesslyngTitle: Relations in the window are closer than they may appear
Characters/Pairing: Denmark/Iceland
Rating: 13+ for vague references to sex
Length: ~700
Summary: If someone looks through the glass, they'll see them, and hear them, but they won't know the whole story.
Other: Written for the DenIce fest. Prompt was "through the glass".
Relations in the window are closer than they may appear
June. The window was open on account of it being warm out, the pane propped up with a sturdy block. The lights were on in the apartment, and the warm yellow glow could be seen from the street. Inside, the curtains were pulled to the side to let in the evening air. The people in the room must have known that they could be seen from the street, but even with everything visible as it was, it didn't bother them at all.
If someone passed by and looked inside, if they happened to glance at the window as they walked by, they would see two men seated at a kitchen table, and they might hear them talking - one of them doing it loudly enough for his cheerful words to carry to the street. And if that passer-by was very observant, they might notice that the booming voice belonged to the older of the two, and that the smiles he offered to the younger man were at once both joyful and affectionate.
But that is all that anyone would see if all they were doing was walking past the apartment building on that warm June night. If they stopped, and lingered outside for a while, and watched through the glass, they would see more. But who would do that?
So nobody was in any position to see anything else, except for the birds who perched on the garden railings outside the building, and they weren't inclined to pay any attention to that sort of thing. Nobody noticed anything else, and nobody saw the way that the young man with the light hair tried to look very serious as he poured coffee for his loud-voiced companion. Nobody heard what he said to him, though they might have heard the loud laugh he received in response. And certainly nobody could know that they had known each other for years, for centuries, that they had been together on so many warm nights just like that one.
"Uh, the window's open. Do you want everyone in the neighbourhood to hear you?"
"Yeah? Wouldn't be anything new. Y'know, you're starting to sound like your brother."
"I am not."
"Are too. Now c'mere, you."
Before Iceland could say anything about that, Denmark tugged him close and ruffled at his hair.
"Den, stop iiiiit!" After a bit of flailing, Iceland finally managed to squirm out of his arms, huffing as he brushed his hair back into place.
"Hey, I have to get in our quality time while I can, y'know?" Denmark shrugged and smiled - a little sheepishly - and spread his hands in apology. "You're leavin' tomorrow, after all."
"Is that what this's about?"
"Well, you're off in the middle of the ocean there, and it ain't like you can just hop across the bridge like Sweden can...." Denmark trailed off. "You're sure you don't get lonely?"
"Of course not." Iceland stepped closer to him and, after a second of thinking about it, took Denmark's face in his hands. "I'll be back in two months, right? Anyway, it isn't like it used to be."
"What?"
"... Like when you'd go, like, years without seeing me because my place is so far away? It wasn't that long ago."
Denmark closed his eyes and leaned into Iceland's touch, then after hesitating for a second, turned his head and pressed a kiss against Iceland's palm. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice muffled.
"Um," Iceland said. He bit his lip, trying to decide what to do about that, then bent down to kiss Denmark's forehead. It wasn't an "It's okay" sort of kiss, because Denmark already knew that it was, and it wasn't a "Don't worry about it" sort of kiss, because it wasn't as if Denmark didn't have anything to be sorry for. Sort of. So instead, Iceland just kissed his forehead, and his hair, and his cheeks, then said as confidently as he could, "Well, I'm not going tonight. I'm going tomorrow. So, um. You should close the window."
"The window?"
Iceland kissed him again, and that time it was on the lips. "And, uh. Pull down the blinds?"
The laughter that slid past Denmark's lips echoed through the room, and out the window, and down the street.
One more night, maybe, would be good enough to last.
End
Characters/Pairing: Denmark/Iceland
Rating: 13+ for vague references to sex
Length: ~700
Summary: If someone looks through the glass, they'll see them, and hear them, but they won't know the whole story.
Other: Written for the DenIce fest. Prompt was "through the glass".
Relations in the window are closer than they may appear
June. The window was open on account of it being warm out, the pane propped up with a sturdy block. The lights were on in the apartment, and the warm yellow glow could be seen from the street. Inside, the curtains were pulled to the side to let in the evening air. The people in the room must have known that they could be seen from the street, but even with everything visible as it was, it didn't bother them at all.
If someone passed by and looked inside, if they happened to glance at the window as they walked by, they would see two men seated at a kitchen table, and they might hear them talking - one of them doing it loudly enough for his cheerful words to carry to the street. And if that passer-by was very observant, they might notice that the booming voice belonged to the older of the two, and that the smiles he offered to the younger man were at once both joyful and affectionate.
But that is all that anyone would see if all they were doing was walking past the apartment building on that warm June night. If they stopped, and lingered outside for a while, and watched through the glass, they would see more. But who would do that?
So nobody was in any position to see anything else, except for the birds who perched on the garden railings outside the building, and they weren't inclined to pay any attention to that sort of thing. Nobody noticed anything else, and nobody saw the way that the young man with the light hair tried to look very serious as he poured coffee for his loud-voiced companion. Nobody heard what he said to him, though they might have heard the loud laugh he received in response. And certainly nobody could know that they had known each other for years, for centuries, that they had been together on so many warm nights just like that one.
"Uh, the window's open. Do you want everyone in the neighbourhood to hear you?"
"Yeah? Wouldn't be anything new. Y'know, you're starting to sound like your brother."
"I am not."
"Are too. Now c'mere, you."
Before Iceland could say anything about that, Denmark tugged him close and ruffled at his hair.
"Den, stop iiiiit!" After a bit of flailing, Iceland finally managed to squirm out of his arms, huffing as he brushed his hair back into place.
"Hey, I have to get in our quality time while I can, y'know?" Denmark shrugged and smiled - a little sheepishly - and spread his hands in apology. "You're leavin' tomorrow, after all."
"Is that what this's about?"
"Well, you're off in the middle of the ocean there, and it ain't like you can just hop across the bridge like Sweden can...." Denmark trailed off. "You're sure you don't get lonely?"
"Of course not." Iceland stepped closer to him and, after a second of thinking about it, took Denmark's face in his hands. "I'll be back in two months, right? Anyway, it isn't like it used to be."
"What?"
"... Like when you'd go, like, years without seeing me because my place is so far away? It wasn't that long ago."
Denmark closed his eyes and leaned into Iceland's touch, then after hesitating for a second, turned his head and pressed a kiss against Iceland's palm. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice muffled.
"Um," Iceland said. He bit his lip, trying to decide what to do about that, then bent down to kiss Denmark's forehead. It wasn't an "It's okay" sort of kiss, because Denmark already knew that it was, and it wasn't a "Don't worry about it" sort of kiss, because it wasn't as if Denmark didn't have anything to be sorry for. Sort of. So instead, Iceland just kissed his forehead, and his hair, and his cheeks, then said as confidently as he could, "Well, I'm not going tonight. I'm going tomorrow. So, um. You should close the window."
"The window?"
Iceland kissed him again, and that time it was on the lips. "And, uh. Pull down the blinds?"
The laughter that slid past Denmark's lips echoed through the room, and out the window, and down the street.
One more night, maybe, would be good enough to last.
End
