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On A Snowy Evening [Netherlands/Norway]
Title: On A Snowy Evening
Characters/Pairing: Netherlands/Norway
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 725 words
Summary: An evening spent together, quiet and comfortable, is how Norway likes it.
Other: Written for Qichi. Happy birthday! Crossposted to tumblr here.
On A Snowy Evening
It was cold outside. The snow came down in thick flakes, scattering across the ground, leaving it bright white in the winter dark. Inside it was warm and bright; the kitchen lights cast a soft warm glow out to the yard, though they could only go so far, didn't penetrate into the darkness of the forest beyond.
Netherlands was there on that night, in Norway's kitchen. They worked side by side in comfortable silence as they put together their supper. Knife on cutting board. Scent of cooking spice. Music on the radio turned down low. Soft words exchanged now and then – "When you make this at your place, how d'you –"
"Where do you keep your –"
But they said little more than that. They didn't need to. It was best just as it was: Soft. Quiet.
Norway knew that they weren't alone in the house. He knew that there were others lurking in corners, hiding in shadows, creeping around his bookcases. These people stayed from where they were, keeping to their own business in the other rooms. They tried to stay out of the way when he had company over. Netherlands would be none the wiser either way, no matter if they came into view or not, as he couldn't see anything of them, not even a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.
It was for the better if they stayed away; Norway had found over the years that it was difficult, almost impossible, to get close and comfortable with someone if he knew that there were others in the room. And as far as he was concerned, his magical friends were no different from anyone else. "I like my privacy, thanks," he had told them. They'd taken the hint.
Norway glanced out the wide kitchen window at the whiteness outside, then leaned against the tall figure beside him. "Didn't think it'd snow this much," he muttered. It sounded almost like an apology, even if it wasn't. "You'll have to help me dig out in the morning."
Pause. He felt Netherlands still, felt him look out, just as he had done himself only a second before. "That's all right."
"Might get snowed in."
"We didn't have plans." A return to the movements, the familiar gestures of peeling potatoes.
"Could go skiing tomorrow. If you like."
The knife stopped moving. There was a long pause. "... Uh."
Norway tilted his head just enough to look at him. There was an uncertain look on Netherlands' face. That was new. "You do know how, don't you?"
Netherlands snorted. "What do you think?"
Well then.
Norway quieted, taking a moment to give it some thought.
He had never gone skiing with Netherlands. And Netherlands had never asked. And the more he thought of it, the harder it was to imagine Netherlands taking to his mountains in quite that way. The hikes they had taken together during recent summers were one thing; they took it slowly, and he always looked at Norway's sharp horizon with an appreciative eye. But Netherlands was a low-lying nation, the kind who liked things best flat when it came to motion, the kind who could go on for ages in a given direction – but only as long as that direction was outward, not down.
Norway recalled Denmark, who took to alpine skiing with all the grace of a fish flopping on land. He smiled. Well. In that case, he wouldn't subject Netherlands to it.
"Skating instead, then," he said. Some of the amusement must have seeped into his voice, because he got rolled eyes and a nudge for that. But he also got a low mutter of agreement to it, and hinted appreciation too, and that was all right.
The snow fell all through preparation, and then all through supper. It fell through the cleanup. It kept falling hours later, when they stepped out onto the patio, with jackets on but without gloves, so that Netherlands could have a smoke.
It was piling up in the yard, and Norway knew, looking at it, that his entire garden would be hidden beneath it tomorrow morning.
Even with the snow, it wasn't cold, somehow. He let it fall, dusting his hair, grazing his cheeks. Leaned against Netherlands and looked up at the sky.
In that cool, crisp winter night, he felt warm.
Characters/Pairing: Netherlands/Norway
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 725 words
Summary: An evening spent together, quiet and comfortable, is how Norway likes it.
Other: Written for Qichi. Happy birthday! Crossposted to tumblr here.
On A Snowy Evening
It was cold outside. The snow came down in thick flakes, scattering across the ground, leaving it bright white in the winter dark. Inside it was warm and bright; the kitchen lights cast a soft warm glow out to the yard, though they could only go so far, didn't penetrate into the darkness of the forest beyond.
Netherlands was there on that night, in Norway's kitchen. They worked side by side in comfortable silence as they put together their supper. Knife on cutting board. Scent of cooking spice. Music on the radio turned down low. Soft words exchanged now and then – "When you make this at your place, how d'you –"
"Where do you keep your –"
But they said little more than that. They didn't need to. It was best just as it was: Soft. Quiet.
Norway knew that they weren't alone in the house. He knew that there were others lurking in corners, hiding in shadows, creeping around his bookcases. These people stayed from where they were, keeping to their own business in the other rooms. They tried to stay out of the way when he had company over. Netherlands would be none the wiser either way, no matter if they came into view or not, as he couldn't see anything of them, not even a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.
It was for the better if they stayed away; Norway had found over the years that it was difficult, almost impossible, to get close and comfortable with someone if he knew that there were others in the room. And as far as he was concerned, his magical friends were no different from anyone else. "I like my privacy, thanks," he had told them. They'd taken the hint.
Norway glanced out the wide kitchen window at the whiteness outside, then leaned against the tall figure beside him. "Didn't think it'd snow this much," he muttered. It sounded almost like an apology, even if it wasn't. "You'll have to help me dig out in the morning."
Pause. He felt Netherlands still, felt him look out, just as he had done himself only a second before. "That's all right."
"Might get snowed in."
"We didn't have plans." A return to the movements, the familiar gestures of peeling potatoes.
"Could go skiing tomorrow. If you like."
The knife stopped moving. There was a long pause. "... Uh."
Norway tilted his head just enough to look at him. There was an uncertain look on Netherlands' face. That was new. "You do know how, don't you?"
Netherlands snorted. "What do you think?"
Well then.
Norway quieted, taking a moment to give it some thought.
He had never gone skiing with Netherlands. And Netherlands had never asked. And the more he thought of it, the harder it was to imagine Netherlands taking to his mountains in quite that way. The hikes they had taken together during recent summers were one thing; they took it slowly, and he always looked at Norway's sharp horizon with an appreciative eye. But Netherlands was a low-lying nation, the kind who liked things best flat when it came to motion, the kind who could go on for ages in a given direction – but only as long as that direction was outward, not down.
Norway recalled Denmark, who took to alpine skiing with all the grace of a fish flopping on land. He smiled. Well. In that case, he wouldn't subject Netherlands to it.
"Skating instead, then," he said. Some of the amusement must have seeped into his voice, because he got rolled eyes and a nudge for that. But he also got a low mutter of agreement to it, and hinted appreciation too, and that was all right.
The snow fell all through preparation, and then all through supper. It fell through the cleanup. It kept falling hours later, when they stepped out onto the patio, with jackets on but without gloves, so that Netherlands could have a smoke.
It was piling up in the yard, and Norway knew, looking at it, that his entire garden would be hidden beneath it tomorrow morning.
Even with the snow, it wasn't cold, somehow. He let it fall, dusting his hair, grazing his cheeks. Leaned against Netherlands and looked up at the sky.
In that cool, crisp winter night, he felt warm.