Your Rocky Spine [Netherlands/Norway]
Aug. 8th, 2015 04:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: Your Rocky Spine
Characters/Pairing: Netherlands/Norway
Rating: 13+ for references to sex etc
Length: 700
Summary: And the mountains said I will find you here; they whispered the snow and the leaves in my ear
Other: My half of a fic trade with Qichi! Prompt was exploring differences between landscapes. [Original post]
Title (and fic, partially) was inspired by a song by Great Lake Swimmers.
Your Rocky Spine
Netherlands opened his eyes, glanced at the clock, and held back a groan. It was too damn early to be so fucking bright out.
Beside him, Norway slept on, oblivious. It figured, Netherlands thought. The trip had been his idea. "Would do you some good, a week at my cabin," he'd said. "Some fresh air and quiet. How's that sound?"
Norway was right. It was good. But the early mornings weren't what Netherlands had in mind.
After glaring at the ceiling for a while, Netherlands came to a decision. He slipped out of bed, threw on his clothes from the night before, grabbed his cigarettes from their place on the table, and stepped outside.
He needed a smoke.
Fresh air. That was what Norway had promised, and that was what he had - and plenty of it. Netherlands breathed in deep lungfuls of it as he made his way up the footpath toward an outlook, his hiking boots quickly dampened with hints of morning dew. Fresh air smelling like evergreen and rocky soil and hints of snow capping the mountains.
It didn't take him long to find the place: a spot to the side of the path with broad, flat rocks to sit on, and a clear view out at the surroundings. Somewhere below, a thin blue line snaked its way toward the sea.
He slipped a cigarette out of its packet, glanced out again toward the rocky horizon, then thought better of it, and returned it to his pocket.
Norway stretched out in front of him, filling up his vision. Not the same as last night, when Norway had shoved him down, gripped at his hair, and kissed him hard enough that he still felt it hours later when they were sprawled out together, exhausted. Or was it that different? Maybe not, Netherlands thought, lifting his eyes up to take in stone and sharp peaks clear against the morning sky.
Pretty, sure. Norway had a hell of a pretty face, and anyone who'd ever opened a photography magazine knew how good his landscape looked. But he knew damn well that there was stone under all of it; the hands that had held him down last night were steady and sure as mountains.
Too early to think about this, Netherlands told himself. He fell back until he was flat on the rock, and tucked his hands behind his head. Closed his eyes. Wouldn't sleep, but it was nice, the thin morning sun on his face, the fresh air. He could smell wildflowers, could feel the heaviness of the land, could sense the way it rose up around him, surrounding him.
Birdsong and the hum of insects, somewhere. Bumblebees. There were no people chattering here, no clanging trams, no bicycles zipping past along their neat lanes. It was as if the landscape was empty. But-
He pressed his fingers to the stone. Breathed, and breathed again, and felt it: the slow, steady pulse of population, five million lives tucked into that jagged strip of northern land.
Netherlands bit his lip and let go. Self-consciously, he slid his hand behind his head. He wouldn't do that again.
Too intimate.
Better to just breathe in the air. Taste him. Different from a touch, different from a kiss, taking him in that way. Different, but not going too far.
He breathed, and dozed, and Norway surrounded him.
Footsteps woke him up later. Hiking boots crunching on rock. Netherlands opened one eye.
"Thought I'd find you here." Norway came into view, a pack slung over one shoulder. He looked too damn awake for the hour, but it came natural to him. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, sinking down beside Netherlands.
Netherlands grunted and sat up, brushing his hair out of his face. "Too bright out," he muttered. He stilled as Norway leaned against him.
"I'll close the curtains next time."
"Should've done it this time."
"We were busy."
"... Uh." He couldn't argue with that. "Fair enough."
Norway snorted and slipped the pack off. He pressed a thermos into Netherlands' hands. "I brought coffee," he said, nuzzling at his cheek, rough with early-morning stubble. "And breakfast. Let's stay a while."
Norway's hands were chilled as the northern air and sturdy as the mountain under them.
Netherlands grasped them. That was enough.
End.
Characters/Pairing: Netherlands/Norway
Rating: 13+ for references to sex etc
Length: 700
Summary: And the mountains said I will find you here; they whispered the snow and the leaves in my ear
Other: My half of a fic trade with Qichi! Prompt was exploring differences between landscapes. [Original post]
Title (and fic, partially) was inspired by a song by Great Lake Swimmers.
Your Rocky Spine
Netherlands opened his eyes, glanced at the clock, and held back a groan. It was too damn early to be so fucking bright out.
Beside him, Norway slept on, oblivious. It figured, Netherlands thought. The trip had been his idea. "Would do you some good, a week at my cabin," he'd said. "Some fresh air and quiet. How's that sound?"
Norway was right. It was good. But the early mornings weren't what Netherlands had in mind.
After glaring at the ceiling for a while, Netherlands came to a decision. He slipped out of bed, threw on his clothes from the night before, grabbed his cigarettes from their place on the table, and stepped outside.
He needed a smoke.
Fresh air. That was what Norway had promised, and that was what he had - and plenty of it. Netherlands breathed in deep lungfuls of it as he made his way up the footpath toward an outlook, his hiking boots quickly dampened with hints of morning dew. Fresh air smelling like evergreen and rocky soil and hints of snow capping the mountains.
It didn't take him long to find the place: a spot to the side of the path with broad, flat rocks to sit on, and a clear view out at the surroundings. Somewhere below, a thin blue line snaked its way toward the sea.
He slipped a cigarette out of its packet, glanced out again toward the rocky horizon, then thought better of it, and returned it to his pocket.
Norway stretched out in front of him, filling up his vision. Not the same as last night, when Norway had shoved him down, gripped at his hair, and kissed him hard enough that he still felt it hours later when they were sprawled out together, exhausted. Or was it that different? Maybe not, Netherlands thought, lifting his eyes up to take in stone and sharp peaks clear against the morning sky.
Pretty, sure. Norway had a hell of a pretty face, and anyone who'd ever opened a photography magazine knew how good his landscape looked. But he knew damn well that there was stone under all of it; the hands that had held him down last night were steady and sure as mountains.
Too early to think about this, Netherlands told himself. He fell back until he was flat on the rock, and tucked his hands behind his head. Closed his eyes. Wouldn't sleep, but it was nice, the thin morning sun on his face, the fresh air. He could smell wildflowers, could feel the heaviness of the land, could sense the way it rose up around him, surrounding him.
Birdsong and the hum of insects, somewhere. Bumblebees. There were no people chattering here, no clanging trams, no bicycles zipping past along their neat lanes. It was as if the landscape was empty. But-
He pressed his fingers to the stone. Breathed, and breathed again, and felt it: the slow, steady pulse of population, five million lives tucked into that jagged strip of northern land.
Netherlands bit his lip and let go. Self-consciously, he slid his hand behind his head. He wouldn't do that again.
Too intimate.
Better to just breathe in the air. Taste him. Different from a touch, different from a kiss, taking him in that way. Different, but not going too far.
He breathed, and dozed, and Norway surrounded him.
Footsteps woke him up later. Hiking boots crunching on rock. Netherlands opened one eye.
"Thought I'd find you here." Norway came into view, a pack slung over one shoulder. He looked too damn awake for the hour, but it came natural to him. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, sinking down beside Netherlands.
Netherlands grunted and sat up, brushing his hair out of his face. "Too bright out," he muttered. He stilled as Norway leaned against him.
"I'll close the curtains next time."
"Should've done it this time."
"We were busy."
"... Uh." He couldn't argue with that. "Fair enough."
Norway snorted and slipped the pack off. He pressed a thermos into Netherlands' hands. "I brought coffee," he said, nuzzling at his cheek, rough with early-morning stubble. "And breakfast. Let's stay a while."
Norway's hands were chilled as the northern air and sturdy as the mountain under them.
Netherlands grasped them. That was enough.
End.
Tags:
