#qtfic

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Canada was listening to Cuba vent about his meeting with America at the hotel bar, when he spotted Lithuania come bursting out of the same conference room, looking equally agitated. He hummed over his drink, and Cuba, following his gaze, chuckled darkly.

“Your brother’s getting to everyone today, huh?”

“Seems so,” Canada agreed. As Lithuania looked around, his gaze crossed Canada’s, and he stopped abruptly, blinking. Canada raised his eyebrows, smiling to himself when the other nation changed course to stalk over to him.

“Welcome to the club,” Cuba told him dryly. “Need a drink?”

Lithuania shrugged, face set in a wry smile. “I don’t have time to join you right now,” he said. And, green eyes settling on Canada, “Perhaps we could meet up later.”

“Always happy to commiserate about my brother with you.” Canada leaned over to him. He could feel Cuba looking between them.

“Always happy to hear you out,” Lithuania replied, his tone ever so pleasant but his expression heated—in a different way, now. “I think we can help one another.”

He pulled a pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and quickly scribbled a number on a beer coaster. His fingers nudged Canada’s when he handed it over.

“I’ll see you later, then. Nice to see you, Cuba.” Off he went again.

Cuba, after a few seconds of staring at Lithuania’s retreating form, laughed abruptly.

“So that’s a thing you do, is it?” he guffawed.

“What’s a thing?” Canada asked, tucking the coaster away. “Commiserating?”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Don’t pretend you’re not getting up there later and banging the guy’s brains out, Canada!”

Although he felt his cheeks warm, Canada just shrugged, sipping his drink.

“Damn. I keep telling people you got hidden depths, but I guess even I don’t know ‘em all.” Cuba looked very amused, with an almost proud twinkle in his light eyes. “Guess I should go find someone to commiserate with myself, huh?”

“I’m in no hurry to leave.”

“Ah, I see, you’re gonna leave him hanging for a bit so he’s even more worked up when you get there! I knew you had it in you!”

“You’re a little too invested in this, Cuba.”

The nation laughed again and slapped Canada’s back, telling him, “I just think you two are on to something. Nothing to take your mind off like some good, hard commiserating.”

Picking up his drink, Cuba hopped off his barstool, now clasping Canada’s shoulder.

“Have fun!” He walked off, towards a group of other nations.

Canada really wasn’t in any hurry. He knew his agitation, as well as Lithuania’s, at having to deal with his brother in one of his moods would keep for ages if he let it, simmering under his skin, so he calmly finished his drink and the peanuts that had come with it, paid the bartender, and went up to his own hotel room. Cuba winked at him as he left.

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By the time Canada started making his way up to the room number written on his coaster, he’d got himself worked up in more ways than one. His reflection in the mirrored elevator wall looked a little frazzled, and he ruffled his hair a bit more before he stepped out, amplifying the look. Down the hall from Lithuania’s room, someone was playing loud, fast music. Canada knocked on the correct door. At the last second before it opened, he quickly undid the top buttons of his shirt and pushed up his sleeves.

“Canada!” Lithuania smiled at him, gaze sweeping down his body and satisfyingly lingering on the skin revealed around his throat. He was in a simple T-shirt and lounge pants himself, with half his hair pulled back from his face. “I’m happy to see you. Come in.”

He stepped back just enough for Canada to enter the room, closing the door behind him with their arms brushing.

“Quite a day, eh?” Canada said, turning to him.

“Quite a day.”

They both just breathed, looking at each other. Canada could feel his heartbeat ratcheting up at the rare but very familiar heat in Lithuania’s eyes, just as he’d imagined it. They’d been doing this off and on for a hundred years—commiserating, as Cuba might now say, over their infuriating neighbours or brothers or what have you—and it had not yet got any less thrilling. Or, really, any less cathartic.

“Quite a day,” Lithuania repeated under his breath. Canada slowly wet his lips. Watched him swallow.

In the next moment, Lithuania surged forward and slammed him bodily against the door, pinning him in place with his hips. Gasping, Canada grabbed for him, tangling his fingers in the loose half of his hair and eagerly pulling him up to crush their mouths together. Lithuania groaned against his lips, pressing up into his touch while his hands frantically rucked up Canada’s shirt, grasping at his chest and scratching at his sides. Canada bucked his hips. Thrust his tongue into the other man’s hot mouth.

While their hips ground together, Lithuania now yanked at the buttons of his shirt. With a groan, Canada broke the messy kiss to tip his head back against the door, breathing hard. Both of Lithuania’s hands pressed against his exposed chest, his breath hot on Canada’s neck. Their lips nearly touched again when Canada looked down at him. He wasn’t that much taller, but Lithuania still tilted his chin up. The edge of Canada’s glasses fogged up as they breathed the same air.

Without a word, Lithuania pushed Canada’s shirt off his shoulders. He ran his fingertips over his arms, through his chest hair. His eyes were dark, and Canada’s heart thudded eagerly. He swept his own hands down, wriggling his fingers between Lithuania’s T-shirt and pants, pulling him closer by his waist and directing the roll of his hips. Even wearing his formal slacks, Canada could still feel that, like him, Lithuania’s cock was stirring. Maybe had been even before he arrived.

Their mouths met again in a frazzled mesh of lips and breath and tongues twisting together, both of them grabbing and grinding at whatever they could reach.

“I want—” Lithuania yanked on Canada’s hair when he bit his lower lip. “Ah! I want it hard, Canada.”

“That’s—that’s what I’m here for,” he replied, pushing his hands up underneath Lithuania’s shirt, following the dip of his spine.

A few times, their commiserating had been slow, even soft, but generally, that wasn’t why they sought each other out. Something in both of them had recognized a kindred spirit, a hundred years ago. Someone who wanted, needed, to blow off steam in the face of being underestimated or ignored by those around them.

“I want to forget today even happened.” Lithuania was now running his mouth along Canada’s neck, sucking a kiss into his pulse point until he groaned, shivering with heat. One of his hands curled against his chest. Canda gently scratched at his spine in return, making him twitch.

“At your service,” he breathed, and Lithuania pulled back to meet his eye. He looked flushed. A smile tugged at his slick lips, one full of promise.

“Likewise, Canada.”

Without warning, he swept his hand down and cupped Canada’s trapped cock, squeezing him through the fabric. Canada swore as he watched his smile turn sharp. And Cuba said he had hidden depths.

“I’ve been waiting.” Lithuania’s hair, already coming loose, fell around his face as he looked down to open Canada’s fly.

“Good.” With a soft groan, Canada helped him push his slacks down. “Lithuania…”

Before he could touch him in turn, get at the burgeoning erection he could see pushing out his pants, the nation yanked at his underwear too. Lithuania plunged one hand beneath the fabric, touching his cock. Both of them let out a groan, and Canada swore, hips bucking. Despite his obvious eagerness, Lithuania’s touch was still quite gentle, fingers folding around his nearly-hard dick and stroking. He looked back up.

“Fuck me,” he said, voice low but steady. He smiled when Canada’s body jerked, and the sharp edge to it made more blood rush south.

“Yes.” Finally—or so it felt—Canada was able to get his hands on Lithuania again. He eagerly tugged at the drawstring of his pants, finding his skin blazing hot underneath, and not meeting any resistance as he shoved his hand inside. Groaning, he leaned over to kiss Lithuania again. Remembering what Cuba had said, he imagined the European nation stewing in his frustration, waiting for Canada to come up to let it all out. Imagining the ways he would go about it.

Lithuania moaned into his mouth, but before Canada could finally fold his fingers around his thick cock, he was stepping away, leaving Canada stumbling after him. With a soft laugh, Lithuania gently grasped his chin. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t even pull, but Canada could only follow him, captivated by the dark depth of his pine-green eyes.

When the fingers left his chin, it was so they could slide down over his throat and his chest, where they ever so slightly pushed. Barely glancing behind himself, Canada sat.

He found himself on the edge of a low dresser next to the bed, probably intended as a nightstand, with Lithuania leaning over him. The nation’s gaze blazed down his body again, and he abruptly yanked his own pants down, licking his lips and breathing hard. He was hard, his thick cock bobbing between his legs as he moved. Canada couldn’t help but groan at the sight of him, his stomach clenching in eager anticipation.

“I’ve been thinking,” Lithuania said softly, his breath ghosting over Canada’s face as he gently touched his jaw. The softness of his touch and tone seemed somehow at odds with how obvious his arousal was, but Canada always thought it suited him that way. He was sure he’d learned to emulate some of it over the past century; it fascinated him.

Pushing a little, Lithuania now put his knee on the dresser. He smiled when Canada rested a hand on his lean thigh, curving it up and around as he rose up. Now kneeling over Canada’s thighs, Lithuania slid his hand into his hair and used it to tilt his head back and kiss him again. Canada grasped his ass with both hands to pull him even closer, making them both gasp, Lithuania’s cock nudging his stomach.

“Mh,” Lithuania groaned. He lifted his head so Canada could press his mouth to his neck, finding his rapid pulse and happily pressing his tongue to the hot skin. Lithuania arched, his dick again touching Canada’s skin.

“What were you thinking?” Canada asked, inhaling his scent. He felt Lithuania’s fingers sweep down his forearm, dance over his hand.

“Thinking about…” He twined his fingers between Canada’s and slid them further over his ass, now looking down at him. “About you… Inside me.”

“Yeah?”

“About…” He breathed out with a smile when Canada’s fingertip slipped between his ass cheeks, where Canada found the skin hot and slippery. He ran his finger over his hole. It seemed as though Lithuania had done more than thinking. Looking back at him, it was easy to curve his middle finger into his ass. The hot muscles fluttered around the digit, and Lithuania continued to smile with dark eyes, rocking his hips down.

“I thought about forgetting everything except…” He reached between them and grabbed Canada’s erection while their mouths met once again. Canada curled an arm around his back while pushing another finger into him, and swallowed the moan that fell from his lips.

Forgetting everything—or everyone—else was why they did this. He could never remember what it was, exactly, that had made them come together that first time, but he sure as hell remembered how Lithuania had sounded, had tasted. Remembered the nation’s cock in his mouth and his hands in Canada’s hair. The way he’d called his name.

“Canada,” Lithuania breathed now as well, “ah, please, I want you to—” He shifted, attempting to get closer to, presumably, ride Canada like this, on the dresser, but he lost his balance and almost tumbled backwards instead. He yelped, but Canada managed to catch him with the arm around his body.

Laughing, he followed the movement, and Lithuania laughed as well while he was lowered to the floor. He grasped Canada’s shoulders.

“Canada,” he said again. His legs spread around Canada’s hips. “Oh, here…” Tugging his pants over, he pulled a tube of lube out of the pocket. “Just take me, please. Right now.”

Heat spiking through his body, Canada generously coated lube on his cock, cursing when Lithuania hitched his legs up.

“I’ve been close for ages, Canada. Just waiting for you, trying not to think about—oh, god, yes, that’s—” He moaned when Canada unceremoniously guided his cock to his hole, which pulsed when he pressed the blunt head against it. A nod was all Canada needed, Lithuania’s hair catching on the carpet and his lips parted. The nation arched beautifully when Canada pressed forward, steadily burying himself in his tight, inviting heat. His cock twitched against his stomach, already flushed.

Canada imagined him bringing himself to the brink and then stopping, just so he could be the one to tip him over. Cursing, he drove his hips all the way forward, making Lithuania cry out. The man gasped happily, another yes falling from his lips.

For a moment, Canada sat still, admiring Lithuania underneath him with his hands curled around his thighs. Then, he hitched those legs up over his own and slowly pulled back, groaning at the tight grip on his cock.

“Canada,” Lithuania groaned, “come on, I said hard, you can—hn—you can go slow later.”

“But you look so good frustrated,” Canada said jokingly, quirking a smile.

“Ah, tease,” Lithuania laughed, although it turned into a gasp when Canada rocked his hips forward again.

“Alright.” Licking his lips, Canada rearranged his legs so he was leaning over the other nation, his hair now falling around his face. “Hard?”

“Hard as you please.”

And, really, the sound that Lithuania made alone would’ve made the whole thing worth it. It was a deep, guttural sound as he arched against the carpet when Canada set his pace, driving slightly down into him. Canada grunted in response, grabbing roughly at his waist and burying his cock to the hilt inside of him. Lithuania rocked on the scratchy carpet, gasping his name as he often did—because he knew what it did to him. His legs clenched around his hips, and he moaned when Canada reached over to push his shoulders down against the floor, grabbing at his arms.

“Yes,” he hissed, looking right at him, his eyes widening with every deep thrust. “Harder.”

Canada’s pace was fast, the carpet chafing his knees, and Lithuania took it amazingly, his thick cock leaking against his belly. Every now and then when Canada shifted, he could feel him leaving hot streaks against his skin. Lithuania seemed to, impossibly, be trying to take him deeper, pushing off the ground and onto him, arms now winding around his neck. Breathless, Canada sat back up.

The movement dragged Lithuania along and got Canada another satisfying guttural sound when the nation ended up in his lap, his ass against Canada’s thighs. Canada, not one to disappoint, kept moving him, pulling him down and pushing him up with force, Lithuania’s hands on his shoulders and his cock sliding against his abdomen once more.

“I’m—god, I’m—oh, Canada,” Lithuania panted, slamming himself down with abandon, so incredibly hot and tight. His hair flew around his face.

Grunting, Canada haphazardly reached for his cock and got his fist around the shaft to work it roughly. If Lithuania had waited all that time, it was only fair to make him come the way he wanted, after all. The nation arched again, sweat shining on his chest, in the hollow of his throat. Canada pressed his mouth to the pale skin to lick messily. Lithuania’s breath shuddered, his fingers tangled in Canada’s hair.

“Canada,” he said again, ending almost on a shout when Canada tightened his grip. “Ah—oh!”

His grip tightening, Canada felt him tip over that edge, and looked up into his dark eyes while he spilled over his fingers. Lithuania gasped, rocking back and forth on his cock as he shuddered, his ass throbbing.

“Fuck,” Canada breathed. He felt hot himself, feverishly aroused with Lithuania’s come coating his hand and his ass clenching around him.

“Good,” Lithuania gasped. “Oh, that’s…” He kissed Canada breathlessly, licking into his mouth with no coordination, dislodging his glasses.

Close as he felt, Canada grunted with frustration when, in the next moment, Lithuania was suddenly getting up, pulling off him with a wet noise and leaving him feeling incredibly cold. The nation laughed through his panting as he stood. There was that dark look in his eyes again that made Canada follow him up on shaky legs. Immediately, Lithuania grabbed his dick, making him twitch and curse.

“Lithuania,” he groaned. “What’re you—”

“I thought about other things, too.” He licked his lips, breath slowing just a little.

“Mh, fuck, whatever you want.” Canada shivered at the intense look that got him.

“Perfect.”

Once again, Lithuania led him away from the bed. When Canada realized where they were headed now, he laughed excitedly. He let himself be pressed chest-down onto the small desk in the corner of the room. Quickly, he removed his glasses to lay his head down, turning to squint at Lithuania over his shoulder. Standing behind him, the man grabbed his ass, and Canada jolted when he felt him slide his still mostly hard cock between the cheeks, spreading come and lube on his skin. He wriggled back, trying to communicate that he wanted more, whatever Lithuania decided that should be.

“I was thinking about this, too,” he now mumbled, rocking back and forth. His voice caught, and Canada nodded, biting his lip.

“Me too,” he breathed. “I want—”

“Hm?” Now, it was Lithuania’s fingers stroking between his ass cheeks, and his other hand every so lightly curling around Canada’s still-straining cock. The touch was soft, almost teasingly so.

“I want you,” Canada finished, pushing back, and he heard Lithuania moan softly.

“Don’t come yet,” the man whispered, right as he pressed his fingertips against Canada’s hole. “Wait for me.”

Shaking slightly, Canada rested his forehead on the desk. He hadn’t fully prepared himself the way Lithuania evidently had, but he’d cleaned up in anticipation of getting fucked—they usually ended up going for multiple rounds, anyway—and so the first slide of fingers into his ass was easy, making him groan into the flimsy wood. There weren’t many people Canada would bend over for like this, and he was sure that was true in reverse as well. He trusted Lithuania. In many ways, he got Lithuania.

He rose up on his tiptoes as Lithuania worked two, then three fingers into him, apparently having picked his lube back up from the floor. Canada looked over his shoulder at him, and received a distracted, hazy smile, dark eyes flitting over his body. Lithuania ran his free hand up his spine, pushing him against the desk, and his cock nudged Canada’s leg when he stepped closer, making him jolt. His own cock was nearly touching the edge of the desk. The hard corner bumping it every now and then almost hurt, but in a way that felt exciting.

“I…” Lithuania squeezed the back of Canada’s neck and leaned over to press his lips to his shoulder blade. Reaching up, Canada curled an arm over the man’s head, groaning when that had him both scraping his teeth over his skin and swiftly pushing another finger into him. Lithuania’s cock was slipping against his ass, leaving wet streaks and getting harder by the second—Canada didn’t know if he’d ever gotten much softer. He panted, fingers tangling in Lithuania’s long hair while the nation fucked him with his hand, movements frantic.

When he straightened up again, Lithuania kept pressing Canada down, and Canada gripped the edge of the desk, trying to rock back against him.

“Don’t break that,” Lithuania said hoarsely. The hotel telephone was rattling with their movements, Canada’s glasses bouncing back and forth next to it.

“Me? That depends—ah—on you.” Canada moaned when the fingers abruptly pulled out of him, only to plunge back in immediately. He hung on tightly to the desk.

“Perhaps.” This time, when Lithuania pulled his hand back, it was replaced by the blazing hot head of his cock again slipping between Canada’s ass cheeks, dragging across the rim of his hole and making him swear. “So I should go slow?”

“Please—please don’t.” Canada wriggled against him, his cock bumping against the desk igniting little sparks of arousal. “I don’t care, we’ll say it was America’s fault somehow—”

That made Lithuania laugh breathlessly, his hands digging into his ass cheeks.

“It is,” he said. Abruptly, he shifted one hand to lift Canada’s left leg, making him put his knee on the desk chair. The position felt so exposed, but Canada didn’t have time to think about it because the other nation’s cock was pressing into him, sliding into his ass in one movement that seemed endless. Filling him until Lithuania’s hips were pressed to his skin, his balls heavy against Canada’s. Both of them cursed, Canada jolting as he came to a halt. He panted into the desk.

“Please,” he breathed again.

Pushing him down against the wood, Lithuania moved his hips. He started slow, letting Canada get used to the drag of his thick cock, in and out of him—all the way to the tip, to where he could feel his ass clenching as if to keep him, and he could only imagine how he looked, spread open like this. Lithuania’s hand slipped on his sweaty back. After those first slow thrusts, he sped up. Not gradually, but as abruptly as Canada himself had, slamming into him and rocking him against the desk with force. Canada shouted, trying to look back over his shoulder again. God, he still felt so close, but he had to wait for Lithuania. He had to. He couldn’t let the almost-painful edge of the desk send him over.

The desk was, in fact, bumping against the wall, where the loud music hadn’t stopped playing. Lithuania was panting, every other breath a moan, and Canada shouted again when he suddenly pulled out completely, only to rock his slick cock between his ass cheeks once more with the same wild rhythm, before immediately pushing back into him. Somehow, the stretch immediately felt like a surprise again.

“Yes, fuck,” Canada panted. His hair fell in his eyes when he tried to look at Lithuania. Before he could reach up and push it away, Lithuania had grabbed both of his wrists and pulled them back, using them as leverage to pound into him. Fuck, now it really felt like he was taking his frustration out on Canada, in the absolute best way possible. Canada could only pant and moan, sweat sticking him to the desk and his cock leaking, painfully hard between his spread legs.

“Canada,” Lithuania moaned, breathlessly, and then kept panting his name, his fingers slippery but tight on his wrists and his cock slamming deep into him with abandon. “Canada, I’m—so—hn—”

He let one wrist go to reach down, finally touching Canada’s dick again, and Canada couldn’t hold back a shout as wild arousal roared through his body. It was an almost immediate orgasm that had him arching his back, coming hard over Lithuania’s fingers and clenching his ass around his cock, still being slammed into him and making him jolt even more, come even more.

“Oh my god,” Lithuania moaned. “Oh my—”

He pulled out, and before Canada realized what was happening, he felt the hot splash of him coming on his ass, on his lower back, his cock pressing between his ass cheeks and spreading it everywhere. His own cock twitched, another wave of pleasure washing over him as he imagined again how he must look to Lithuania, messy and sweaty—although Canada was aware that that was really more his thing, and that it might’ve been for his benefit. He groaned, now finally pushing his hair away from his hot face and looking back just as Lithuania pressed just the tip of his cock back into his ass, groaning too when Canada clenched around him.

“Holy fuck,” Canada breathed, grinning at the hotel telephone. Lithuania ran both hands over his ass, up his sides, leaning over so his chest touched Canada’s back. They stuck together with come and sweat, and his cock slipped down until it was touching Canada’s balls. Although Canada put his foot back on the ground, he decided against resting his full weight on the desk, because it surely wasn’t meant to hold two grown, bonelessly satiated men. Instead, he slowly rose up, and Lithuania wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Canada’s shoulder. His breath was heavy against his ear.

Wordlessly, they stayed like that for a long moment, rocking just slightly into each other.

“I feel much better already,” Lithuania mumbled. His hand, still covered in come, flattened over Canada’s heart as it slowed.

“Already,” Canada echoed, and felt him chuckle in response. Finally, he turned around and observed Lithuania’s flushed face, his wild hair. Leaning back against the desk, Canada kissed him, deeply but slowly. Their cocks slipped against each other, both softening and wet, the slide intimate in a way that felt very different from having him inside, or being inside him.

“I’m a mess,” Lithuania said, lips still pressed to Canada’s. He smiled when Canada just agreed with him, pulling back. “Let’s take a shower.”

“Draw a bath,” Canada joked, because he remembered one time, early on in their acquaintance, when Lithuania had gotten very annoyed with America for insisting he do exactly that, as if he were a mere servant. As expected, Lithuania rolled his eyes and gently pushed against his chest, before grabbing his hand and tugging them to the washroom. Both of them staggered a little, bumping into each other, which made Canada giggle. The fact that his glasses were left on the desk didn’t particularly help.

They kept the shower relatively cool, washing the sweat and semen off their heated skin, although it wasn’t nearly cold enough to prevent Canada’s cock from stirring eagerly as he watched Lithuania tip his head back into the stream, water cascading down the pale line of his throat and down his lean chest. He touched the man, running his fingers up his torso and watching the patterns the water made. Lithuania smiled, leaning up to kiss him, his mouth hotter than the water and his skin still blazing. He nudged his thigh up between Canada’s legs, moaning gently when Canada pulled him closer with his hands on his ass.

In turn, Lithuania did the same, rocking against him. He wasn’t hard, though Canada was sure he wasn’t entirely soft either. It’d probably take a while, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his fingers slid right back between Canada’s ass cheeks and curved into him. Although his ass now felt slightly sore, the touch still scratched an itch, making his cock harden further. Shifting, Lithuania pressed to Canada’s side to grab his cock with the other hand, resting his chin on his shoulder again. He wriggled his fingers in his ass while he slowly stroked, twisting his hand over the head and then dragging it all the way to the base in a tight circle. Canada tilted his face up into the spray of the shower, shuddering.

“Feel good?” Lithuania asked him.

“Very good,” Canada breathed, looking at him. His eyelashes clumped together, and it somehow made his eyes seem even darker. “You feel… Mh…”

Not waiting for him to finish that sentence—although Canada wasn’t entirely sure how he would have anyway, it was hard to describe—Lithuania leaned up to kiss him once more. He kept up his steady, slow movements of both hands. Canada knew he was ambidextrous, and he was sure that worked in his favour now, as both hands were following a different rhythm, doing their own thing even as their tongues tangled wetly. It was hard to concentrate on anything but Lithuania, the shower just background sensation to his whole body pressed against Canada.

Even when the nation’s mouth moved away, he kept licking Canada’s neck, even scraped his teeth over a tendon until Canada was panting again, blowing water away with every breath. He felt almost dazed, had no idea how long Lithuania had been touching him now. Breathing the man’s name, he looked at him, and got a soft smile in return.

“You should come again,” Lithuania said, barely loud enough to hear over the water. As if he hadn’t been giving him a handjob and fingering him for the past… However long. Canada couldn’t explain why those words sparked through him so much his whole body jolted, but judging by how the smile turned instantly sharp, it was exactly what Lithuania had wanted.

Really. Hidden depths.

“Come on, Canada,” he said, equally softly.

Canada nearly choked on water, the way he gasped as he came. He threw his head back as Lithuania worked him through it, his touch never faltering. The fingers pulled out of his ass just so he could use both hands to stroke his cock, covering all of him. Water dripped from the tip of Lithuania’s nose when he looked up at Canada, eyes bright. He licked his lips, and Canada couldn’t help kissing him again. The water washed away the evidence of his orgasm as quickly as it had happened, and then there was just them again.

After a moment, Canada reached over and turned the shower off.

They dried off quickly. Still a bit wobbly, Canada wondered why everything was so blurry until he remembered he was supposed to wear glasses, and then couldn’t remember where he put them until Lithuania plucked them from the desk and handed them to him, laughing softly.

“I think I want some tea,” the man said. He’d left a fluffy towel wrapped around his hips. “Do you?”

“Tea?” Canada chuckled. “Sure. Cigarettes are out of fashion, is it?”

“Cigarettes have long been out of fashion, Canada.” He wobbled over to the desk, where the electric kettle had luckily survived.

“Not that long.”

While Lithuania busied himself making tea, Canada, also with the towel wrapped around himself, wandered out to the small balcony. His room didn’t have a balcony, but this one had a view over some woods bordering a road, and the evening air was nice. A slight breeze caressed his skin, ruffling his wet hair. There was one chair, which seemed poorly thought out for a room designed to hold two people, but really, it was a miracle there was one at all. Canada sat down in it, shivering when the cold plastic touched his damp back. Still, he sprawled, leaning back and closing his eyes.

After a while, he heard the door open and looked up at Lithuania, who held a mug out to him. It didn’t seem like a hotel mug, and Canada smiled at the thought of Lithuania putting mugs in his suitcase just in case he wanted to drink tea. He wondered if they held sentimental value. Lithuania didn't seem like a person who got attached to things like that, but everyone had their quirks.

“I see you’ve taken the only seat.”

“Oh, I could stand up—” Canada started, honestly a little flustered.

“No, no, don’t worry.” Lithuania smiled. “I was just joking.”

Instead, he leaned against the railing with his hip, raising the tea to his lips. In the light of a late setting sun, he looked beautiful. His slightly damp skin still shone a little, and his wet hair was pushed back from his face. Sadly, Canada’s glasses fogged up when he went to drink his tea, so he couldn’t admire the V of Lithuania’s hips or the smattering of hair on his chest. He had no trouble imagining it. Could still taste his skin on his tongue.

When, a while later, he’d drunk his tea and his glasses were once again useful, Canada really looked. He was sure Lithuania knew he was, but the nation kept serenely gazing out over the road and the woods, his mug raised even though it was empty. Canada set his on the ground. He saw Lithuania’s lips quirk into a smile.

“Are you finished?” he asked him.

“With my tea?” Lithuania responded. “Or with you?”

Canada shrugged, heart skipping a beat. There was no way they were finished with each other. Lithuania just smiled some more, although he put his mug down on the tiny table when Canada slowly got to his feet. Next door, the loud music started up again.

“Who the hell is over there?” Even as he asked this, Canada gently turned Lithuania’s front to the railing, pressing himself to his back and resting his hands on his hips, just above the towel.

“I’m afraid it’s your brother,” Lithuania told him dryly. He laughed when Canada dropped his head against his shoulder with a groan, then softly gasped when he pressed his lips to his warm neck.

“Do you want to go inside?” Canada mumbled.

“Mh, no, we’ll…” Lithuania curled an arm around his head, his back arching slightly. “We’ll be quiet.”

Canada ran his hands over his chest while he mouthed at the nation’s neck, at his jaw and his ear, softly licking the shell to an encouraging hum. He thumbed at Lithuania’s nipples until he groaned and bucked his ass back, pressing it against Canada’s interested cock. While Canada slowly followed the long line of a silvery scar etched into Lithuania’s shoulder with his teeth, the man let him go so he could tug his own towel loose. He hung it over the railing, leaning his hands on it, and pressed back again.

“I think I’ll need some lube,” Canada breathed, trying hard not to immediately get carried away. It would probably work alright if he didn’t use it now, maybe just used spit, but it would feel better, and he was sure Lithuania deserved that much. They both did.

“Right.”

“Stay there.”

Lithuania did just that, his arms visibly trembling and his legs slightly spread while Canada hurried inside to get the lube. God, he looked gorgeous. Thank god Canada had such an annoying brother, really. Who knew if they would have met in this way otherwise? He shed his own towel on the way back outside and plastered himself back against Lithuania, who moaned softly.

“Oh, Canada…” he breathed, letting his head fall forward. His shoulder blades looked like wings in the dimming glow of the sun, tattered with scars and a slight rash of rug burn but strong beneath his skin. Canada groaned and fumbled with the lube, struggling to open the cap. He saw Lithuania’s shoulders jump with silent laughter.

Like him earlier, Canada first just let his cock slip between his ass cheeks, rocking back and forth. He was well on his way to hard, though it didn’t feel nearly as feverish as it did before. Hot, yes, but no longer so frantic. Lithuania seemed content to just let him do that, breathing his name as he rocked back. He, too, was getting hard again, and he moaned when Canada touched his heavy sac, ran his fingers over his cock. He jolted forward when he thumbed just at the head, his hands clenching on the towel-covered railing.

“Wonderful,” Canada said absently. It was easy, as expected, to slip his fingers into Lithuania’s ass. “Okay?”

“Yes.” He pressed back against the touch. The slightly reddened rim of his hole clenched around Canada’s two slippery fingers, and he shuddered when a third was added. Canada imagined that he, too, felt slightly sore—that strange almost-itch that felt awkward until it just felt good, at least for him. He curled his free arm back around Lithuania to feel for his heartbeat, which was rapid under his palm. He imagined he could feel it jump when he rocked his fingers back and forth, and he leaned forward to muffle a groan against the man’s back when he felt his ass clench. He had no problem having sex outside—actually, he really liked to—but had no desire to get caught by anyone, least of all America. And the music had stopped, at some point.

After another wriggle and encouraging gasp, it was easy as well to slip his fingers out, grasp his cock, and slowly push it into Lithuania. Canada had to muffle his groan again, while Lithuania himself actually clasped a hand over his mouth, the other one trembling and white-knuckling the railing. Still, he nodded vigorously.

Canada kept it slow for now, languidly pulling almost all the way out and sliding back in. He stood up straight to admire the drag of Lithuania’s ass around his cock, the way his back arched and his moans were muffled into his hand. Everything was starkly shadowed in the fading light, giving it a dreamlike quality.

When Canada pulled Lithuania upright too, he muffled a shout into his hand. Canada snapped his hips forward and resumed running both hands over the man’s chest. He touched all of him while he thrust steadily into his ass, ran his hands down to his hips, encircled his straining dick and pinched his tight nipples. He mouthed breathlessly at Lithuania’s neck and shoulders, licking moisture left by his hair from his skin. Lithuania kept moaning encouragingly, rocking back, running his free hand over Canada’s arms in turn. He reached back, trying to tug at his hip as if to go faster, but Canada kept the same steady pace, biting his shoulder gently.

He even pressed his own hand over Lithuania’s mouth, covering his, but the man quickly shook his head and nudged him away, so Canada found other uses for it. Luckily, there was a lot to touch.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Lithuania was so hot around him. He could already feel the heat starting to wash over him, the incoming tingle of an orgasm fast approaching. Still, Canada kept the same pace. “Lithuania.”

“Yeah,” he muffled.

“Can I—hn—can I come inside you?”

More vigorous nodding and bucking back, and Lithuania grabbing the ceiling with both hands when Canada let him go to just grasp at his hips. He leaned far forward, mirroring how he’d bent Canada over the desk earlier, and his legs were trembling as Canada finally picked up the pace. He didn’t go as hard as Lithuania had, but still dug his fingers into the man’s hips to pull him deep down on his cock, engulfing all of him in heat and tightness over and over until it became too much.

Now, it was Canada clasping a hand over his mouth to muffle his shout. Buried deep inside Lithuania, he tipped over the edge and came a third time that evening.

“Fuck!” Lithuania moaned, unmuffled and loud enough to make Canada twitch. He kept thrusting just a little as his orgasm swept over him, and he was reaching for Lithuania’s cock to hopefully bring him over that edge too, when the other nation stood straight again and just pushed back.

Not expecting it, Canada stumbled backwards. He yelped and then fell right back into the plastic chair, his dick slipping out of Lithuania with a wet noise.

Movements somewhat frenetic, Lithuania followed. Still with his back to Canada, he spread his legs over his thighs, grabbed his cock, and sank down on his lap. Canada had to muffle another shout.

“What—”

“Just… Just touch me,” Lithuania breathed, looking back over his shoulder at him. There was a slightly sheepish edge to his expression, but it vanished when Canada did as told, wrapping a hand around his cock.

Lithuania wasn’t resting his full weight on Canada, probably afraid the chair would break, so his legs trembled holding him up, his ass clenching around Canada’s twitching cock. Canada’s hand was slippery, and he used that to jerk his cock fast.

When Lithuania came, it seemed sudden. He went rigid, clasped both hands over his mouth, and moaned while he spilled over Canada’s hand. The clenching of his ass made Canada swear and only seemed to intensify the feeling for Lithuania himself, who rocked back and then moaned again, his cock twitching.

After a long while, he slumped forward, resting both hands on Canada’s knees, now spread around his own. His hair fell in messy, damp strands around his face. Canada knew his own was already frizzy.

“Yeah,” Lithuania breathed, as if to himself.

“Yeah?”

The other man smiled over his shoulder at him, nodding. Canada grinned back blearily.

It didn’t take long before they moved, because the evening air was actually starting to feel pretty cold. It felt extra cold on Canada’s dick when Lithuania finally pulled off, leaving him wet and almost-soft, flopping down between his legs.

“Another shower, I guess,” Lithuania said, not sounding too broken up about it. Modern showers truly were a marvel, so Canada didn’t blame him.

This time, though, they rinsed off separately and had to make do with hand towels. Canada came out to find Lithuania finally in the bed, naked but tucked halfway under the covers on one side. He looked rosy and content, which made him smile. He shook his head when Lithuania raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“You could stay,” the nation said.

“I’d like that.” Really, Canada was loath to put his clothes on right now. “Flying out early tomorrow, but I’ll spend the night.”

With a smile, Lithuania lifted the other side of the covers, and Canada climbed in. For a while, they sat in silence, both almost dozing off. Eventually, Lithuania turned towards him.

“What was I upset about, again?” he mumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure it wasn’t important,” Canada replied, as always. He got a relaxed smile, which he quickly covered with his own mouth, kissing Lithuania lazily.

They kissed until Canada didn’t feel like he could open his eyes again, and then, by unspoken agreement, they both just sank into the bed and drifted off.

.

Canada woke from a hazy dream about what seemed to be a mermaid with shoulder-length dark brown hair and a kind smile either trying to drown him or trying to have sex with him—or both—to find himself in a room lit by early morning sunlight, alone in bed and hard as a rock. Groggily, he shifted to his back. Water ran in the washroom, and Canada could shortly see the blurry form of Lithuania come out. He was still nude, and stretching his arms over his head.

“Oh,” the nation breathed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“’S okay,” Canada mumbled.

Lithuania hummed, ambling over. He halted next to the bed, just far enough away to still be blurry but close enough for Canada to see his dark eyes flit down his body, to where his erection was poking up the thin sheets. He breathed out slowly, then climbed on the bed but not under the covers. Canada blinked blearily up at him when he felt his hand ghost over his chest, uncovered by the sheets.

“Can I?” Lithuania whispered, tugging lightly at the bedsheet.

“Hm? If you’ll let me, too.” Canada patted his thigh, following the curve up to his cock, which was now close to his face and twitching with obvious arousal. He lifted his head a little to get closer.

“Oh!” Lithuania flushed beautifully, his cock getting noticeably harder. “Okay.”

Both of them still a little clumsy with sleep, they manoeuvred to their sides, with their feet facing opposite ends of the bed. Lithuania tugged the sheets away and rose up on one elbow so that his hot breath wafted over Canada’s cock, while Canada pulled him a little closer with one arm underneath his hips and the other hand pulling his leg up just a little. He flicked his tongue out so that it just touched the head of his cock, which made Lithuania moan softly. In return, the other nation grabbed his erection and leaned over to lick messily at it.

Canada groaned and returned the favour. It was uncoordinated on both their parts, lazily licking and sucking each other’s cocks. But still so hot. So good. It felt hazy, dreamlike, but Canada could clearly taste Lithuania on his tongue, could feel his lips around him and his fingers absently squeezing his sac. He moaned around him, making Lithuania groan in turn.

Often, Canada found it overwhelming, doing both things at once, but now, in this state of half-waking, it felt perfect. He pulled Lithuania closer, deeper into his mouth, and felt him twitch. Felt his tongue wriggling against him.

Although he had no idea how long they lay there, once more pleasuring each other, Canada thought it must’ve been a while, drifting off into what seemed like another dream. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was just a few minutes. He didn’t care much right then. Still, he could feel Lithuania tensing up right as he himself felt the tingle in his balls, and sucked his cock down with renewed vigour, groaning when Lithuania reciprocated in kind.

And so, it was almost at the same time that they came, both of them into the other’s waiting mouth, both of them writhing on the mattress and unable to do anything but muffle his moans around the erection in his mouth, trying to swallow. Canada sucked eagerly, his lips stretched wide around Lithuania’s girth, while Lithuania pressed deep down, his hair dragging over Canada’s hips.

They were both panting when they finally let each other go, and Lithuania clumsily turned back the right way, immediately flopping against Canada’s side. Canada watched his wet lips twitch into a smile, his green eyes half-lidded, and tugged him up to kiss him. They licked lazily into each other’s mouths, now, their tongues tangling and tastes mingling. Lithuania nudged one leg between Canada’s. Canada wrapped his arm around him again.

Just like before, they drifted off like that.

And, yeah, this time, that mermaid was definitely trying to have sex with him.

.

“I’ll see you in a few months, then,” Lithuania told Canada, smiling pleasantly up at him. There was a slightly drowsy set to his eyes, but he was wearing his lounge pants and T-shirt to see Canada out. He’d have to go pack up his stuff in his room to fly out in a few hours. Maybe even write some sort of report for his boss, but that could wait. He would first have to remember what the hell happened in meetings yesterday, anyway. All he could remember was Lithuania, as was correct.

“You will,” Canada replied. “If you ever need to commiserate, you can call me.”

He wouldn’t, which—fair enough, Canada supposed. It would probably only really work in person anyway.

“I know,” Lithuania said anyway. “Thank you, Canada.”

“Thank you, too.” Smiling, Canada pulled him into a hug, letting his lips linger over his cheekbone. Lithuania ghosted his hands over his chest, his sides.

With a wave, Canada was out the door of his hotel room, into the quiet hallway. He felt great, like he could take on today easily. Just like always, he couldn’t even remember what it was that the both of them had been so worked up about yesterday. He grinned, and kept grinning when the door of the next room over swung open.

But he met the troublesome little nation in theharbor and saw messy, long blond hair and pale, drawn face closest inappearance to a teenager, not a child. He was small, yes, but not little. Andthere was the pull, the pull of nationhood that was undeniable even if he wasfar away and unclear in Denmark’s vision.

Estonia was surrounded by Denmark’s people, asif he would try to run if he weren’t restrained. Denmark wouldn’t be verysurprised.

As he neared the group and everything becameclearer step by step, he met the young nation’s eyes. Neither of them blinked. Impressive, Denmark distantly thought.He had dressed himself up in his most awe-inspiring coat and armor, after all.

The nation’s eyes were a color he’d never seenbefore. Like the sea, but ablaze with life.

Oh, this could be fun.

“I’m Denmark,” he said, not knowing if Estoniawould understand him at all. The light rain drummed a steady rhythm on his hatand the wood of the ships and the dock behind him.

“I know who you are,” Estonia said, snidelyeven though his Danish was perfect. Interesting. “You can’t just buy people andexpect them to dance to your whims, you know.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“You were very melodramatic when you wereyounger,” Estonia interrupts him. “Then again, I suppose you still are.”

He laughs when Denmark pushes at his shouldergood-naturedly.

“Ya did come with me, didn’t ya?”

A raised eyebrow, an incredulous look over thetop of his glasses. “You forced me to. And then no one would let me pray orwrite with my left hand. I’m certain you’re the reason I had that atrocioushandwriting for several centuries.”

“Sorry,” Denmark mumbles, pushing his hand overhis hair so that it flattens and springs back up immediately afterwards.

“It wasn’t all bad, looking back on it.”

There were a lot of people in Denmark’s house.People like them, but humans as well.

Estonia didn’t talk to any of them for a longtime; he was quite certain he had most of them convinced he didn’t speak theirawful, guttural language and managed to catch a lot of gossip that way.

“Danish isn’t awful!”

Estonia clasps his hand over Denmark’s mouth ashe pretends to be disgusted, fake-gagging for full effect.

Denmark himself wasn’t so bad, as a person.While Estonia had decided to hate him purely on principle, because really,anyone who thinks they can just take other people’s land whenever they pleaseis not a good person in his book,Denmark had… Good sides. When he wasn’t being all high and mighty and orderingpeople around.

Because in those, admittedly rare, moments, hemade horrible jokes and didn’t get angry that no one but he himself laughed atthem. In those moments, Estonia realized after a while, he wasDenmark-the-person, not Denmark-the-nation. It was a novel concept to him,separating the feelings of his people from his personal thoughts. He had neverhad a human name like the onesDenmark and the other nations around went by sometimes. While he was as old asany of them, he had always just been Estonia.

He talked about this strange revelation with amaid, who didn’t seem to understand at all, and eventually, Estonia turned toDenmark himself.

“I was Kristian back then, wasn’t I?” Denmarkasks.

Estonia wipes his hand on the man’s shirt onelast time.

“I think you were, yes.” He huffs a laugh.“You’ve never been know for your subtlety, I suppose.”

“Oh, shut up. I do actually remember thatparticular conversation, ya know.”

“Oh, really? Let’s hear it from yourperspective, then.”

“Don’t sound so skeptical.”

The whole situation was baffling, Denmarkthought. Estonia had come to him (Estoniahad come to him!) asking about something he didn’t really understand, andnot because of his accent, which was practically nonexistent anyway.

“Wait, wait – I don’t – Estonia—”

“No!” he said, shaking his head so that hisunruly hair flopped everywhere. Someone should have convinced him to dosomething about that by now.

“No what?”

“When you’re not Denmark, who are you?”

Denmark frowned. “I’m always Denmark.”

“No, listen…” Estonia stepped closer to him,and had he gotten taller in the past few months? He was closer to Norway’sheight now than to Finland’s. “You’re different sometimes. When you’re just…”

“I still don’t—”

Estonia sighed. “You have a ‘human name’?”

“Oh!” Denmark grinned. “Like that! Yes, I do.But I’m not different when I’m using that name… Am I?”

The sea-colored eyes found his again. “You are.And I want to learn.”

“I thought ya wanted to learn to be like me,at the time.”

“That explains so much.”

Denmark grins wryly.

“I did have some fun with you back then,”Estonia recalls, taking his glasses off and staring into the distance – oracross the room, as it were. “I guess that counts for something.”

It was liberating, in a way, to be able to atleast somewhat separate the feelings of his people from his own, but it alsomade Estonia feel slightly guilty. He washis people, after all, wouldn’t exist without them. He had refused to think ofa human name for himself, partially because he knew Denmark probably wouldn’tlike the traditional Estonian names he would prefer and partially because itjust didn’t feel right. Not yet.

Denmark was much more bearable like this, hehad decided. They would actually go out into the city sometimes, talk toDenmark’s people and the foreigners that came to trade. Denmark made Estoniatry all kinds of foods and asked for his opinion on inane things like the colorof someone’s clothing or what kind of hat he should buy. He said he was helpingEstonia build character. Estonia privately thought he was just being used assomething barely above a servant in these moments.

Still, it was enjoyable in its own way.

The thing he liked most, though, were the timeswhen Denmark had just come back from wherever he had claimed someone else’sland this time – Estonia never voiced that thought – and the two of them wouldtake walks through the gardens. Denmark was usually quiet. He often let Estoniatalk about what had happened in his absence, or even just about his people and whathe missed of his home.

No one ever came looking for them. Estoniadidn’t think anyone but him knew where Denmark disappeared to. It was good,oddly thrilling, to know that he had him all to himself. That he wasn’t quiteDenmark and he wasn’t quite Kristian in these moments, he was just someone witha lot on his shoulders, who liked to listen to Estonia and laughed disarminglyat his anecdotes and held a lot of passion for his people, just like Estonia.

It was that version of Denmark that he likedthe best.

“And then I fu—”

Estonia elbows him in the side.

“And then I messed up!”

All this vague talk about their human sides hadDenmark very intrigued, he had to admit. He was intrigued the most, though, byEstonia himself, who had opened up to him seemingly without much prompting atall.

He had definitely grown taller, and was growingstill. He might just become taller than Denmark. This did dismay him slightly,but he didn’t want to dwell on things he couldn’t change anyway. It also helpedthat Estonia was finally convinced to cut his hair – by Denmark himself, of allpeople. He looked nice.

At this point, Denmark thought he could safelycall them friends, if still in a sort of skewed way where he was obviously farmore important overall.

But yes, friends.

This also dismayed him slightly, for reasons hecouldn’t quite put his finger on. At least, not until he really thought aboutit. Denmark knew he wasn’t prone to thinking things through most of the time,and maybe he could have thought about this a little more, but he was sure hisinitial conclusion would have stayed the same no matter what.

He was attracted to Estonia.

How exactly, he was unsure even aftergiving it some thought. It held the middle between liking his personality,really wanting to know him, and a more visceral attraction. Maybe, even, adesire to dominate him in a more interesting way. He looked stronger, thesedays. Denmark was curious to see how he would give and take. And what he had to give and take.

It was a sunny day when he came back home andescaped into the gardens with Estonia, who talked in low tones about what hadhappened while Denmark was away, with his hair already falling in his eyesagain and the laces on his shirt only half-knotted, and Denmark wanted.

He was a stranger to not getting what hewanted, so he took. A small push at Estonia’s shoulder, his fingers tangling inthe laces as he caught the question forming on the man’s lips with his own. Estoniawas warm, and he was still until he wasn’t.

On the other side of the path, Estonia breathedunsteadily while he tried to glare Denmark into oblivion. The laces of hisshirt were all ripped open, and he definitely was getting stronger, wasn’t he?

“Come here,” Denmark said.

“No.”

He was gone the next second.

“I was so confused,” Denmark says. “God, I wasa di—jerk.”

“And to think I would probably have said yes ifyou’d just asked.”

Denmark shakes his head, a touch sadly. “I wasnever one for askin’.”

With a slight smile, Estonia clasps his thigh,just for a second. Then he starts drumming his fingers on it, pushing hisglasses up his nose with his free hand.

“I could probably have explained myself better,I guess,” he muses. “And maybe not have run all the way to a different country.”

Estonia stood on the shore, looking out overthe waves. Somewhere there, in the distance, were his people, his home. Behindhim, there was a man in red navigating the rocks, the wind whipping his hairup.

How did Denmark even find him? How, when he had crossed the border intoSwedish territory?

“It’s disputed,”Denmark said. He looked tired. Estonia knew that he felt tired himself. Hishead had been a maelstrom since that – kiss, if one could call it that. Becauseit had been uncalled for, and not an experience he wanted to repeat, but healso knew that he did like Denmark, at least the secret part of him that he soseldom saw, and maybe…

It was confusing him.

“You can’t expect me to come back,” Estonia bitat him, crossing his arms. “You were far out of line.”

“Youdon’t have the right to lecture me.”

“Even when you know I’m right?”

At this, Denmark just looked at him, squintingslightly as he always seemed to do until you came close enough. His eyes weresharp nonetheless, the now-familiar blue dark underneath the dusky sky. There wasn’tany malice in it, but then there never really was, was there? Denmark oftenseemed like a young nation, given more power than he knew what to do with.Estonia was pleased to know that he knew something of the person underneaththat, and again, maybe…

Denmark sighed, rubbing his hands over hisface.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he started. “After ya ran,it was just… Ya know, I like havin’ ya ‘round, is what I’m tryin’ to say. Insome weird…” He gestured at all of Estonia vaguely.

Estonia raised his eyebrows, while Denmarkstepped slightly closer, relaxing his face a little, then frowning again. Theway he scrunched his nose made his freckles bunch up, which made Estonia huff alaugh. Wasn’t it ridiculous that thatwas what he noticed? This powerful nation, who had just told him he liked having him around, and what henoticed were his freckles?

“Are ya laughin’ at me?”

“You are ridiculous,”Estonia said. “You’re overly excitable and you’re often childish and you getall high and mighty—”

“What’re ya—”

“Andyou care so much about your people and you make stupid jokes and… I like havingyou around, too, Denmark. Not all the time, granted, but often enough.”

He smiled, befuddled. “I don’t think I’munderstandin’ ya.”

“You should learn to ask other people what theywant.”

There was a long stretch of silence, duringwhich Denmark tilted his head, obviously thinking, and Estonia stood steady,waiting for whatever would come out of his mouth next. He was on the fenceabout what he was expecting. It wasn’t what actually happened.

“What doya want, Estonia?” Denmark asked, his voice suddenly low and private. Estonialeaned over to him on instinct. “Tell me what ya want from me, ‘cause I’ll tellya I’m not sure what I want from you.”

“What if I’m not sure either?” Estonia replied.“What if I say I hate you one moment and I want to love you the next?”

“Then I’d say we figure it out together. Justus. No politics.”

They held each other’s gaze, unblinking. Estonia’shair whipped into his face. Denmark’s horse whinnied in the distance.

“I would say that sounds good.”

“And that’s how we met!” Denmark concludes. “Sealand?Ya listenin’?”

“He fell asleep,” Ladonia says, soundingextremely bored and drawing on his tablet. “I thought you two would be more funthan Norway, but at least his stories have magic.”

“Oh, but I can tell ya how it continues!”Denmark says enthusiastically, sitting straighter up on the couch until Estoniaelbows him in the side again, shaking his head warningly when he looks at him.

“That is notsuitable for children.”

Denmark pouts. Estonia leans over to him andwhispers in his ear.

He laughs acouple times despite himself, mostly at the man’s commentary. His name is Leon,and the woman is his twin sister Mei, Erika explains later. They started out postingmusic, but built a fanbase that wanted to see more of them and started doingvlogs.

Basch thinksabout what it would be like to do something like that with Erika, but doesn’tthink either of them would enjoy it very much. It would be awkward even if onlybecause of their ten-year age difference, not to mention Basch is his sister’slegal guardian. So no, he thinks, no vlogs in the Zwingli household exceptthose Erika now keeps showing him. Which he didn’t ask for, but has to admit he doesn’t mind.

Because it gives them more to talk about whilethey had been losing touch a little bit, what with Erika being nearly eighteenand being much more focused on other things, but also because the videos areactually rather enjoyable, and the music the twins make is good. Really good.Leon’s voice is unexpectedly breathy when he sings, and his face relaxes in away that is hard to describe but has people in the comments writing in allcapitals and rows of exclamation marks.

Basch feels inclined to agree with them.

He catches himself watching Leon’s facemaybe more attentively than Mei’s, and immediately starts to feel creepybecause he has no idea how old the two of them are; probably closer to Erika’sage than his. He looks it up, and finds to his relief that they’re 22, so atleast he doesn’t have to feel like a dirty old man. So much.

While he’s there anyway, he clicksuntil he’s watching their earlier videos, wasting away time he could be usingto work or clean, and he feels guilty for a while, but he has to say it’s aworthwhile pastime, because he sees Leon get drenched for the Ice BucketChallenge he was dared to do by his sister, and his shirt sticks to his leanchest while Mei laughs off-screen. Basch glances over his shoulder and watchesthat video again.

He’s never really had time to indulgein crushes like this one – because that is definitely what it is, a crush –since he’s started taking care of Erika when he was barely out of his teens andtook over their family’s business around that time too. It’s a novel thing forBasch to have the luxury of watching hours of footage of someone he knows isunattainable, but good fantasy material.

Leon is his type. He’s dark with anedge of mystery, maybe even a hint of haughtiness, but also approachable anddry, and he obviously loves what he does. Basch admires that in any person, theability to shape one’s own life so completely like he has never been able to.In Leon, it’s attractive.

Erika catches on, of course. She’s muchtoo intelligent not to notice that her brother doesn’t need clarifications forthings Mei or Leon say sometimes, too observant not to see the way his lipsquirk at every other sentence Leon says like a teenager swooning over theBackstreet Boys.

“The Backstreet Boys, Basch?You’re not that old.”

“Justin Timberlake?” he tries, andErika laughs.

“Whatever you want to compare it to,”she says, “it’s cute. I don’t think I’ve seen you with a crush in… Ever.”

Basch hides his face in his hands,letting his hair fall in front of his eyes for good measure.

“I didn’t even know you liked men,” sheadds softly. “Not for sure.”

Well, what was the point in telling herif he was never going to bring anyone home anyway? He is always too busy, andbesides, he doesn’t feel attracted to people on a regular basis anyway. It’sjust a hassle, one he’s never thought was worth it.

To her credit – and maybe Basch’s too,since he did raise her – Erika only teases him a little bit.

The videos keep coming, and then thereis one with an announcement, which Mei is so excited about she almost slaps herbrother in the face. They will be attending a convention for YouTubers thatnext month. Basch doesn’t even have to look at his sister to know exactly whatface she’s making. The pleading one, without a doubt.

“No,” he says, keeping his gaze firmlyon the computer screen.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Hm-hm.”

They watch the rest of the video insilence, seeing Mei and Leon play a game while they bicker good-naturedly.Basch can’t deny the little leaps his heart insists on making every time Leonlaughs, brown eyes twinkling. He is very handsome, Basch knows he isn’t theonly person who has noticed that. He’s never seen Leon acknowledge hisfangirls, not like his sister, who will sometimes wink at the camera or thank aspecific commenter. No one seems to know if he has someone, maybe, a girlfriendor even a boyfriend. It adds a little to the mystery of his character.

Later, Erika says, “I’ve never been to aconvention, you know. It seems like a good way to make new friends.”

And oh, if there’s anything Basch isweak to, it’s the possibility of his sister making friends, acting her age likehe hardly ever has. He knows Erika knows that, and shakes his head inexasperation.

“Please,” she says.

“No, Erika. It’s much too expensive.”

She scoffs at that, because it’s not asif they lack in money. Basch will concede that. Still, there are better ways tospend it.

To his own credit, he says no next timeErika asks, and the time after that, and only then does he give in. Hebuys both of them tickets, because no matter what Erika says, she is still achild, and he is responsible for her.

“Oh, Basch, I turn eighteen in twomonths,” she says. “You can admit you want to see Leon in real life, nothingwrong with that.”

He doesn’t deign to reply to that, andhis sister laughs.

Basch keeps telling himself that it’s really not anything to do with Leon,even though he knows it is. A little bit. He’s never let himself indulge likethis, and it feels strange in a curiously good way. But he’s not about toconfess that to Erika.

The convention center is pleasantlybusy when Basch and Erika arrive, not too crowded even for Basch, who dislikescrowds on his best days. He has no idea what to expect, and is glad he andErika made clear arrangements about when and where to meet back, as he losessight of her after less than ten minutes in the bustle of people. But that’sfine, she can actually take care of herself despite what he keeps saying toher.

Rather quickly, though, he findshimself hanging about at the back of the room with some extremely bored-lookingmiddle-aged parents, and the second he realizes what’s happening, he’s gone, becauseBasch might be on the wrong side of 25, but he’s not going to turn into hisfather as he remembers the man just yet.

So he walks through the large roominstead, where more people are still gathering, forming queues at the standslining the walls, eager to get a picture with their favorite YouTuber. He stepsback when a man with a backwards hat sweeps past, talking into a handheldcamera while a gaggle of teenaged girls follow him around. Basch thanks thestars Erika is not among them. He swipes his fine blond hair out of his eyesand sighs, not knowing what to do now. He feels out of place anywhere among allthose people. He often does.

After getting something to eat, evenwhile his subconscious balks at the price of the sandwich he ends up buying, Baschwanders around, listening in on bits of excited conversations full of words heonly half-understands, and wonders when he got old.

He hears Mei’s excited chatter beforehe sees her. Basch would like to say he looked over the heads of the teenagerscrowding around her, but he’s shorter than most of them. Still, he manages tocatch a glimpse of the flowers in her dark hair, the tips of which are now avivid purple and fall almost to her denim skirt. Which, he assumes, isfashionable. He can’t bring himself to brave the teenagers and walk up to herstand, which seems to be devoid of her brother at the moment. It’s somethinghe’ll probably regret later; after spending all that money on a ticket, heshould at least talk to someone. It’s just weird.

Instead, Basch turns and decides toseek out a place where it is a little cooler and less noisy, and that perhapshas a toilet he can use.

There is a line by the toilets too,which means they will be disgusting. Dismayed, he ducks into a hallway andstarts looking for some other toilets. There must be. There is no one in thishall, probably due to the fact that the door was closed, and it is oddlythrilling to do something he’s not supposed to be doing, Basch thinks, smilingto himself.

He finds more toilets down a set ofstairs, large and clean and blessedly empty.

What a life, he thinks, wryly amused,that his greatest accomplishment of the day is finding a place to do hisbusiness. That won’t do at all. He resolves to talk to Mei, maybe Leon if he isthere, when he gets back. He can just tell her – them – that his sisterintroduced him to YouTube and he has enjoyed their videos, that’s all.

Satisfied with himself, he finisheswashing his hands, turns, and almost gets a door in his face. He jumps backjust in time to avoid a collision.

“Oh my god!” A familiar voice exclaimsbehind the door. “Did I hit you?”

“No, I, er—” Basch backs into the sinksas the door opens cautiously, and the first thing he sees are the familiar darkeyes, looking up at him, which is strange. He’s not often taller thanother men. He never realized Leon was so short.

“Are you alright?” Leon asks, lookingup at Basch imploringly. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

“I am fine. I… Didn’t expect anyoneeither.”

A fleeting smile passes over Leon’s face,and Basch can feel his heart thud. He hopes it doesn’t show. The dark eyessweep over him. Maybe Leon is surprised at his age – neither a teenager nor aparent. Basch wipes his damp hands on his dark pants, feeling extremelyunfashionable in the face of Leon’s skinny jeans and smart shirt, with awaistcoat falling open and bright sneakers shuffling on the linoleum floor.

“Well,” he starts, pushing back fromthe sinks, “I, ah, should probably get back.”

“Hm.” Leon bites his lip, then widenshis eyes. “You’re at the convention? Or do you— No, you don’t work here, doyou?”

“No, I’m, yeah.” Basch pushes hisfingers through his hair.

“By yourself?”

“With my sister.”

“Sisters, right?” Leon rolls his eyes. Basch made an agreeing noise. Then, “I’m sorry, I’m keepingyou. Your sister probably misses you.”

Basch smiles despite himself. “I wouldn’tthink so. She’s better at this than I am.”

“Better? At?”

He falters, unsure what he wants to sayto that, but Leon smiles bashfully and apologizes.

“It’s none of my business, is it?”

“I don’t mind.” Basch is finallysettling, and it’s nice to talk to him – he doesn’t know Basch knows him atall, and Basch is not going to volunteer the information now. He sees Leon’sdark eyes drop to his hand, to the heavy ring on his thumb, a family heirloom,and spreads his fingers. Erika always says he has a pianist’s hands but he gaveup playing years ago.

“Fancy,” Leon mumbles, biting his fulllower lip.

“Old,” Basch supplies, and the mansmiles, eyes crinkling up. Basch doesn’t manage to look away from his mouth,though, not before the eyes sweep up to his face again, and Basch is all tooaware of the sparkle in them.

“Kind of fits with you,” Leon says.

Basch bristles. “I’m not old.”

“No.” A smile with lips pressed tighttogether. “Fancy. I wear something like that, I look like a dweeb. You lookkingly.”

“Old family,” Basch mumbles. “I don’tthink you’d ever look like a dweeb.” He’s glad he’s facing away from themirrors so he doesn’t have to watch himself turn bright red. Basch Zwingliflirting? The very idea would make Erika laugh.

Oh, dear god, they’re flirting. In an abandoned toilet.

Leon’s smile turns lopsided. “Thankyou.”

Basch is fairly certain he can hear hisheart beating in the quiet room. A lamp flickers with a pling. He licks his lips, swallows when Leon doesn’t try to concealthe fact that he follows the movement with thoseeyes.

“I, er,” Basch stutters. Leon cannotpossibly find him attractive, can he? That is just a ridiculous notion. And yet…

“You what?”

“I should get… My sister is probablywondering where I am.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Have a nice,uhm…” Leon falters when Basch squeezes past him, pressing their arms tighttogether. “A nice day.”

“You, too.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Basch’s heart skips a beat at thehopeful tone. This is surreal.

“Yes, maybe,” he replies, opening thedoor.

“Bye, then!”

Basch thunders up the stairs and to themain hall, and waits for Erika.

Once back home, after his sister haspulled the embarrassing bathroom encounter from him, Basch quickly convinceshimself that it was nothing, that that’s just how Leon is off-camera. Erika keeps shooting him appraising looks, which heignores in favor of his never-ending work.

A week after the incident at theconvention Leon and Mei publish a new video, and Erika comes home from her vacationjob insisting he must watch it. Baschobviously cannot say no to her, so he sits down and watches the twins talkabout the convention, interspersed with clips filmed there. Erika excitedlypoints herself out in a few shots, and Basch thinks that’s what she wanted himto see, but then—

“And Leon has a very serious problem heneeds our help with,” Mei says. “Don’t you, dear brother?”

Leon scowls at her, but says, “Well, Ido. It’s taken Mei here a lot of persuading to make me do this, so you betterpay attention.”

Basch glances at Erika, who’s watchingwith rapt attention.

“—in the bathroom,” says Leon, andBasch snaps his eyes back to the laptop.

“But I didn’t ask for his name oranything. And that sucks, because I would have liked to…” He raises one thickeyebrow. “Get to know him a little better.”

This time, when Basch glances at hissister, she’s grinning at him, and he doesn’t hear most of Leon’s explanationabout the man he met in the bathroom,and Mei joking about coming out of closets versus bathrooms, because… It can’tbe real. Basch is not interesting. He doesn’t think so, at least. Leon must bejoking, or life has taken a turn for the completely illogical.

And if there is anything Basch hates,it’s illogical things.

“What,” he just says when the videoends.

“Basch!” Erika nearly shrieks. Nearly.A Zwingli does not shriek. “It has to be you, hasn’t it?”

“I…”

“Yes,Basch. Oh, we must send a message!” She pauses. Glances at him. “Unless… Youdon’t want to.”

“No, Erika—” He takes a deep breath. “Letme think about this for a while.”

She purses her lips. They’re pink andshiny with lip-gloss.

“And how long is ‘a while’? Is thisgoing to end up like that time the baker asked you—”

“No,” he interrupts. “Just… A while.”

Erika shakes her head on a sigh, butleaves it alone for the next week.

Or so he thinks.

Until there is a new video, and Meiannounces, to Leon’s surprise as well as Basch’s, that she has probably foundthe mystery bathroom man. Basch glances at Erika, who affects an innocent facethat always fools everyone except for Basch. He groans.

“What did—” he starts, but she shusheshim and gestures at the screen.

“—not going to show that to all ourviewers, of course, I doubt he’d be very happy about that, but, dear brother,please tell me if this is your mystery man?”

Maybe it’s someone else, Basch thinksas Mei hands Leon a piece of paper with a flourish and a drum roll starts.Someone who wanted to take advantage of the situation…

Leon smiles, and Basch’s heart thuds.

“Yeah, that’s him.” He looks at thecamera. “So, your sister sent this. To my sister. As I said; sisters, right?”

Mei pokes him in the ribs, and heyelps. Basch is extremely tempted to do the same to Erika. Maybe he will.Later. When his hands don’t feel quite so sweaty anymore.

“Well, uhm,” Leon continues, lookingdown at his piece of paper, “I won’t name you in case you don’t want that, butyou know who you are, and I guess you know who I am, so… See you around, maybe?”

Basch doesn’t see much of the rest ofthe video, though he hears the unfortunate neighbor’s jingle, and can’t helpbut smile to himself.

“Erika,” he says softly, when it’sdone.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just, I wantyou to be happy and I won’t always be here and the way Mei said it, it reallyseemed like he wanted to get to know you—”

“Erika.”

“And he does, obviously! And I’m fairly sure you do too, so when Mei asked,I just sent—”

“Erika. Don’t apologize.”

She smiles wryly. “A Zwingli doesn’tapologize?”

“Only when necessary.”

Now, she grins. “It’s not necessary?”

“No.” Basch takes a deep breath. “No.Erika, I’m grateful you did that. I would never have.”

“I know,” she says, putting a hand onhis shoulder. Her nails are lilac. “Mei gave me a phone number. Do you want…?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I’d like that.”

And so, eventually, Basch manages togain his own jingle. It has yodeling, and Leon thinks it’s so hilarious henearly falls off his chair the first time he lets Basch hear it. He tries tokeep a stern face, but fails miserably. Leon’s eyes twinkle, and Basch crosseshis arms.

“I don’t like it,” he mumblespetulantly.

“You lie, Basch Zwingli. You love mystupid jingle. You know your sister helped pick the yodeling. I feel like Ishould be worried about what she and Mei are getting up to these days.”

Basch is not even surprised anymore.

“Sisters, right?” Leon adds. Baschsmiles and reaches for him, tangling their fingers before he can push anybuttons to start the awfully catchy jingle again.

“Right.”

Björn sighs and moves a chair on his computerscreen. He has to use the toilet, but he thinks he heard someone walking downthe hall and they might still be out there, and the thought of running intosomeone terrifies him. He listens carefully for a minute and hears nothing, sohe decides to risk it.

There is no one in the narrow hall, and hewalks to the toilet quickly, trying not to stomp his feet on the linoleum. Thetoilet is dark, but also thankfully empty.

When he’s walking back to his room afterwashing his hands, the door of the common room opens, and a guy Björn doesn’tknow steps into the hall, holding a mug containing a steaming drink.

The panic surges immediately, but Björn keepswalking. I have every right to be here, Ihave every right to be here.

“Hey,” says the guy, his voice low and deep.His eyes are shadowed, one nearly hidden behind a curtain of light blond hair.Björn nods stiffly at him.

“You’re Björn, aren’t ya?” he asks. And, whenBjörn nods again, “Ya want some tea?”

“No thanks,” he says quickly.

The guy shrugs. God, he probably thinks Björnis an idiot.

“I’m Einar, by the way. Moved in last week.” Hegestures down the hall. It’s the room across the hall from Björn’s own – he hadheard Einar and his parents and he thinksa brother fixing it up.

“Nice to meet you,” he replies.

Einar nods slowly, and then he is walking downthe hall to his room, and Björn follows quick as he can, pulling his door shutas quietly as possible. His heart is racing. He takes a deep breath and returnsto his bed. He’s got a house to build.

-

“Björn.”

Björn freezes in the middle of the hall. Hejust had his one middle-of-the-week shower as he always does on Wednesday afternoons,because he knows everyone is out at that time. Should be out. Einar is here, wearing checkered pajama pants and a huge sweater. His wrists look incrediblyskinny.

“Hi,” Björn chokes out.

Einar leans against the wall, his hair fallingacross his right eye.

“Ya want some tea?” he asks. “Or coffee. ‘S noone else around.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Is he being niceor condescending? Björn can’t tell, so he assumes the worst. He grasps histowel tightly, trying to calm his racing mind.

“No, thanks.”

“’Kay that’s fine. I’ll be here if ya changeyour mind.” He closes his door behind him.

He has an accent, Björn realizes, and hewonders if it was mentioned in their house’s group chat if Einar is a foreignstudent. He’s stopped checking the chat a while ago, so he has no idea.

-

Björn reads an interesting Wikipedia page andalmost goes to his lecture. He takes the train to the city from his parents’house, where he stays during the weekends, and is well on his way to universitywhen sheer panic forces him to sit down and grind his teeth to stop himselffrom crying. This is ridiculous. He’s twenty, for god’s sake, he should be ableto do this. Everyone else can, so why can’t he?

Why the fuckcan’t he?

Now frustrated with his own uselessness, Björnstomps a fist into his bag. It hurts his fingers, which is immenselysatisfying. It’s something. He can feelsomething.

He convinces himself he wouldn’t have made thelecture in time anyway, and goes to his room.

-

The next day, he can hear loud, screechingmusic coming from Einar’s room, and he’s finally brave enough to boil somewater to make instant soup, certain that the electric kettle won’t be heardover the music. He keeps close to it, should the music turn off before thewater boils. It doesn’t, and Björn can’t even remember how long it’s been sincehe’s had something warm on a weekday.

That evening, when he cautiously ventures outto use the toilet, Einar is leaning against his own doorpost when he returns.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Björn replies, hand already on the handleof his door.

“Ya want some tea?”

The nois on the tip of his tongue, and it would be so easy to say. He could refuse,go back to his bed and download more custom content for his Sims game. It’s theeasier option. It’s also the option Björn knows will result in him wondering ifhe should have said yes for weeks to come, mentally beating himself up overmissing a chance to be accepted into the house.

“Yes,” he hears himself say, and Einar smiles asmall smile, then steps back and gestures him into the room. It’s tiny and hotlike Björn’s own, and there is a guitar mounted on the wall.

“Want sugar in your tea?”

“Hm? No, thanks.”

Einar huffs. “Good thing, ‘cause I don’t haveany sugar here.” His voice is low. Björn doesn’t think anyone out in the hallwould be able to hear him. It’s reassuring.

“I’ll put it here,” Einar says, putting a mugon the broad windowsill. He gestures at a large white chair taking up nearlyhalf the room. “Sit down.”

Björn sits on the chair, trying not to perch,and Einar flops on his bed. There are strings of lights decorating the windowand some photographs on a small desk. It’s homely in a way Björn’s room is not.He’s lived there for nearly four months now and it still smells like paint.

“What do ya study?” Einar asks, blowing overhis own tea.

“History, ‘specially medieval,” Björn mumbles.It feels like he’s lying. “You?”

“Comparative linguistics. I think there’s someoverlap. You’re second year?”

Björn nods, though he wants to bolt. He does not want to talk about class with Einar,he does enough lying to his parents as it is. Yes mom, class was interesting, I’m fine. It’s his problem. He has to fix it, not his parents.

“Me too,” says Einar. And then, tilting hishead curiously, “Why medieval history?”

“Well…” Björn pushes his glasses up. He couldjust shrug, but this is the one thing he is still passionate about. “It’s along story.”

This time when Einar smiles, there is a flashof teeth, and his eyes – they’re dark blue – sparkle.

“Tell me,” he says. “If ya want to. I’d like toget to know ya.”

He seems to mean it.

-

Einar is easy company. He doesn’t demandanything, and when he talks, Björn doesn’t have the feeling that he’s only doingso to fill his silences. He is actually from abroad, from Norway, but he movedto Sweden a few years ago. Björn keeps saying yes to his offers of tea, untilEinar says one day,

“Don’t feel obliged to keep sayin’ yes. Iunderstand if ya don’t want tea every day.”

And he tries,honestly, Björn tries not to jump to the conclusion that he’s annoying Einar,but he can’t help the way his brain works. He starts to mumble an apology,ready to retreat into his room at any moment.

“Oh, no, no.” Einar reached out to him, puttinga hand on his forearm. It’s the first time he’s deliberately touched Björn. “Ilove havin’ tea with ya, Björn. Don’t ever think I don’t.”

Björn shakes his head. He doesn’t know what he’strying to say.

“I meant exactly what I said, nothin’ more andnothin’ less, ‘kay?” He presses his lips together, his mouth becoming a thinline. “I’m not annoying you, am I?”

“No.”

“Would ya tell me if I was?”

Björn opens his mouth, then shuts it.

“Ya gotta promise me you’ll tell me, please.”

He nods quickly.

“Good.” He clasps Björn’s arm, then lets go. “Inever see ya in the kitchen.”

“No.”

A short pause. Then, “Wanna make dinnertogether?”

Björn’s subconscious is blaring alarms at themere mention of the kitchen, where there might be other people who expect him toknow how things work and what if he takes someone else’s butter or he’s notsupposed to use that one pan or he burnssomething, everyone will think he is an absolute idiot—

“Yeah,” he says, because Einar seems to knowhow things work. He knows which pans to use and where to put his trash. It’llbe okay.

-

They manage to make a whole dinner, with fishand vegetables and all, with just the two of them occupying the kitchen area ofthe common room. One of their housemates comes in while they’re eating, andBjörn feels his stomach churn, but she just beams when she sees them.

“Hi Björn!” she says. “Haven’t seen you in awhile!”

She’s accusing me.

While she – and he can’t even remember hername, god – rummages around in the refrigerator, eventually pulling some yogurtout, Einar touches his fingers to Björn’s forearm. Björn realizes he’s holdinghis fork so tight it’s nearly bending between his fingers, and tries to relax.

“Bye!” she says, and she’s bouncing out of theroom, completely unbothered by the fact that Björn is probably unintentionallyglaring at her.

“They’ve all been concerned about ya, ya know,”Einar says softly. Björn just looks down at his food and tries to will down thetears in his eyes. He doesn’t what emotion is causing them to well up, if it’sanger with himself or just relief, but he doesn’t want to cry in front ofEinar.

They wash the dishes silently, with Einarhumming under his breath. After a while, Björn relaxes into the silence, stopsfrantically looking for conversation starters.

“Thank you, Einar,” he says, later, as they saygoodbye for the night in the hall between their rooms.

“No problem. That’s what friends do, right?” Hebites his lip. “At least, I hope ya consider me a friend too.”

Björn nods, and he feels his own lipsstretching into a rare smile.

“I do.”

-

Björn’s mother remarks that he seems happier,and he does actually feel slightly better. He’s not okay, by no means, and hisstomach still turns when he thinks of the exams, which are looming just at theend of the month now, but he’s proud that he went into the kitchen alone thisweek, even if it was just to put water in his kettle. Maybe, the next time thehouse has a group dinner, he’ll actually say yes.

But he still stays in bed too long and doesn’tshower enough, and eats only the bare minimum unless Einar drags – or well,invites – him to the kitchen to make dinner together. And he still spends toomuch of his time convincing himself it’s not that bad, he’ll study hard for theexams and pass them, no problem. He’s good at studying.

Well, no, that’s a lie. He’s good at retaininginformation, not actually at studying. He always was the nerd in high school,and he certainly looked the part, with those gangly limbs he had no idea whereto put, not to mention the ugly glasses he wore. He’d been feeling better abouthimself last year, but then he moved out, and so much for the self-esteem.

Einar comes into Björn’s room, for the firsttime, that week, and they sit on his bed while Einar talks about Old Norse, andsometimes Björn can add things he has learned at some point.

“Björn?”

“Hm?”

“What’re ya goin’ to do when the exams come?”His voice is soft. Björn sighs.

“I’ll just…” He doesn’t know what to say.

“I think ya need help,” Einar says. “Ya can’tfix this by yourself.”

“I have to,” Björn mumbles. His voice is on theverge of breaking. “It’s my own fault.”

“That doesn’t mean ya have to fix it yourself.Not this, Björn. This doesn’t work like that.”

“What do you know?”

Einar presses against his side, a steady,reassuring presence, and sighs.

“Ya think I had it easy when we first came toSweden? Didn’t know anyone, barely spoke the language… Wasn’t difficult torecognize that in you.”

But you had a reason, Björn wants to say. He’s not even an hour away from hisparents, he’s an adult, and his Swedish is perfect. He has no excuse to be acting like this. It’s so tiring, all the wondering,the fretting. It takes up so much of his time and his energy and he knows itisn’t even true. No one thinks he is stupid. No one except he himself.

“I can’t fix this for ya. I can help, and Igladly will, but ya gotta do somethin’ if ya don’t wanna end up kicked out ofyour study.”

Harsh words. Maybe that’s the best; it startlesBjörn.

“What—” And now his voice does break. “Whatshould I do?”

Einar puts his hand on his arm and takes a deepbreath.

-

It all happens very quickly once he gathers upthe courage to tell his parents that maybe it hasn’t been going as well as hetold them. Despite the fact that he leaves out some parts, like him not eatingenough, they are concerned and – he feels guilty again – they both feel bad fornot having noticed.

After that, it’s the head of his study, whotells him to go to a psychologist, which he does despite still feeling like he shouldhandle it by himself.

It quickly becomes clear he really couldn’thave handled it by himself, and the last month of the school year is dedicatedto getting things in order. Björn doesn’t see Einar at all, but he sendsmessages, sometimes just a picture of the view from his window, and those areoften the highlights of Björn’s day.

On his twenty-first birthday, he receives apicture of Einar grinning at the camera, winking. It’s that one he shows his mother,and she looks at him oddly but doesn’t comment.

Björn sends pictures from his holiday inFinland, and gets pictures of Norway in return, complete with Einar’s brother,Egil, hiding his face behind his hands or scowling at the camera.

All in all, it could have been worse.

-

University starts, and though Björn is nearlysick the Sunday before, he goes, and starts his second year again.

Einar smiles widely when they meet in the hall,and Björn can’t help but think he is beautiful.

“How are ya?”

“Better,” he says, nodding slightly. He wetshis lips. “Thank you. For, for helping.”

“Hey, no problem. I’ll be here, ya know. I’mgonna be here for a while.”

Björn meets his other housemates again, andthey’re all nothing but enthusiastic to see him. He knows the urge to pickapart every sentence they say, every look at him, will be gigantic once he’salone, but he tries not to let the worrying overshadow his rational thoughts,and he thinks of the oddly proud way Einar looks at him, which helps.

He thinks he might just be okay, in time.

-

“They spelled my name wrong again,” Einarcomplains. “It’s not that hard, isit?”

Björn hides a smile in his paper cup, lettingthe steam from his tea fog up his glasses. Outside, a storm is building,blowing autumn leaves around the square and whipping seawater against thecoast, but it’s warm here, and they are pressed side-by-side on a couch, havingtea out because they can and theywant to. It’s a good feeling. It took some getting used to, but it is good.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

Björn hums innocently, and Einar slaps hisknee. His hand lingers, and Björn is struck with a sudden realization.

“Einar.”

“Hmm?”

He can’t get himself to say it. Einar looks up athim, questioning.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

He shakes his head. “No, just…”

The hand moves to his forearm, drawing circlesinto the skin where he has pushed the sleeves of his sweater up.

“We’re on a date,” he breathes. He’s never beenon a date before, but he’s pretty sure this is the very definition of one.

Einar sighs, sounding relieved. “I’m glad yanoticed. Wanted to ask ya, but…”

Björn can feel him shrug against his side. Hisheart is beating overtime, but for once it’s not in panic.

“Ask me now,” he says. Einar laughs.

“Björn, do ya wanna go on a date with me?”

Björn presses his lips together and puts histea on the table so he can turn fully to Einar.

“Yes,” he says. “I’d love to.”

Einar smiles and wraps his arms around him,enveloping him in another one of his enormous sweaters. He smells a littlespicy, and is warm and comfortable.

-

“You should let your hair grow out.”

He – Shiu Yuen, Norway tells himself – touches his short black hairself-consciously.

“You think so?”

“It would look good on you.”

He smiles, wider than Norway remembers HongKong ever smiling, but his teeth are crooked in the same way.

“I’ll think about it, Sigurd.”

He wants, more than anything, for this manto call him Norway.

-

He slunk away when everything was said thatcould be said about this one human life. Shiu Yuen’s sister, who looked nothinglike Taiwan and too much like him,looked after him. Norway moved like a ghost through the gathered people, andwondered who know him better. Them,or he himself.

Norway couldn’t do this again. He had aduty as a nation above all else. While having a relationship with a human nowand then wasn’t frowned on, this would always be different.

-

“I don’t believe in reincarnation,” says ShiuYuen. “I believe my ancestors watch over me.”

“That’s true. You are the exception.”

He stares at Norway, his shoulder-lengthhair whipping in the sea wind. The coast of China is slowly disappearing as theferry crosses into deeper waters.

“Why am I the exception?”

Norway winds his fingers through the man’shair. He’s twenty-three already. Time passes fast.

“Sigurd?”

“Have you ever been to Norway?” he asks. Heknows he has and hasn’t. Norway can still see him looking out over misty waters,hear him stumble over Norwegian words. But this man has never spoken a word ofNorwegian, apart from that abhorrent human name.

“I’ve never, why?” He’s smiling again,cheeks dimpling.

Norway touches his neck. “Come with me. I’dlike to show you some things.”

-

Even though he had nothing to stay for,Norway wandered around the city for a while. He had memories spanning a longtime here. They all seemed completely inconsequential in the face of yetanother life having passed.

An all-night shop where he had seen the manthen called David Chan for the first time, although it hadn’t been a shop backthen. The house where Hong Kong had lived, those last months before he faded.

Norway sat down on the steps of a brand newbuilding and pulled out a piece of paper.

-

“Norway.” His voice is breathy, lips pressed to Norway’s neck. “You justcalled me Hong Kong again.”

“Mmh, sorry.”

Shiu Yuen hums. “It’s fine.” He curls intoNorway, with his hair, which is now nearly down to his mid-back now, spillingover his chest. “You really cared a lot about him, didn’t you?”

Norway doesn’t answer. He just breathes,and listens to this human breathe. This human, who is so much like Hong Kongand yet completely different. He smiles more, doesn’t have the accent so typicalof Hong Kong’s English. He doesn’t have the latent magic simmering in his veinsor the voices of a people in the back of his mind. But he has the same dryhumor, the same eyes like sunshine, the same careful hands.

“How many times have you lost him?”

He is still silent. Shiu Yuen runs his thinfingers over his chest, maybe writing words.

“You’re so old,” he then says, huffing a laugh.

“Hey!”

-

Norway didn’t like writing, but he knew hehad to get it out somehow. He could tell people. Could tell Sweden, who’llalways listen to him. Could even tell England, who’d scoff at him and tell himto get over it. But he didn’t want to do that. The only person he really wantedto talk to about this, was gone.

Again.

He tried to write without bias, withoutlooking at Ma Shiu Yuen and thinking Hong Kong. He knew the man had lived agood life after Norway cut himself out, afraid of watching him age. The chanceexisted he’d forget him all over again.

Norway had loved Hong Kong, and he’d loved ShiuYuen. He had cared about David Chan and Leon Li, and promised himself he wouldnot do this again. But here he was.

-

“Hey, Nor— Whoa, ya don’t look too good,buddy.” Denmark’s voice is loud, and exactly what Norway needs right now.

“I know.” He lets himself flop on the couchand doesn’t protest when Denmark wraps an arm around him. They sit quietly fora while.

“Talk to me,” Denmark says. “Anythin’ I cando?”

Norway rests his head on the man’sshoulder. “This is fine. Thanks.”

“Is it about that guy? What’s his nameagain?”

“Shiu Yuen.” Norway sighs. “Yes. It’s over.I can’t let him get old without me, Den. It’d break my heart.”

“God, Nor. Ya make this so hard onyourself.” But he wraps his arm tighter around his shoulders, allowing Norway topress into his side. He doesn’t say anything after that, and Norway is silentwhile he soaks Denmark’s shirt with tears.

-

He posted the letter, written in his bestChinese, sending it to Shiu Yuen’s sister. He hoped it would shed some light onher brother’s mysterious twenties and thirties. That was the least he could do.

At the airport, Norway looked at hispassport tiredly. Sigurd Larsen staredback at him. He sighed. He couldn’t bear that name any longer. He’d have to askhis government to come up with something else.

Very firmly, he told himself he would notcome back here. This was over.

“Norway!” Romania calls, now with an arm slungaround Hong Kong’s shoulders. “Wanna switch? Your brother’s not as good atcooking.”

While Iceland pretends to be affronted next tohim, Norway says, “Well, neither am I. We’d be a bad match.”

“That’s true,” Hong Kong tells Romania, noddingsagely. “He is very good at baking.”

Iceland hums in agreement at that. Norway feelsrather pleased with himself.

“Pity,” Romania says, winking at Iceland. “Buthey, food!”

It took Norway a while to come around to thewhole thing where Romania was dating Iceland, because he knows Romania, they’ve been good friends for a long while, and itwas very odd that he was now not just that anymore. However, he realized aftersome time that was exactly how Iceland must feel about him and Hong Kong, anddecided to let it go. As long as Iceland is happy with him, it is all fine, andnot really his business anyway.

Hong Kong is very good at cooking, which is something that Norway greatlyappreciates.

And so do Romania and Iceland, evidently, ifthe speed with which the food disappears is any indication. Romania evenresorts to snapping his fingers at things, making them float his way untilIceland snatches them out of the air as they pass him, and eats them himself.At this, Romania makes an indignant sound in his throat, which makes Hong Konglaugh while Iceland just sticks his tongue out at his boyfriend. Romania looksto Norway for support, but Norway raises his eyebrows and puts some more ricein his mouth.

“What a friend,” the man says, then proceeds toattempt to push Iceland off the bench when he steals another piece of floatingfood.

It is a good thing they opted to eat outside,Norway thinks, watching both of them tumble to the ground, Iceland shriekingand Romania laughing.

“Good,” Hong Kong says. He touches Norway’shand lightly. “More food for us.”

“This is the weirdest date we’ve ever had.”

Hong Kong chuckles into his drink. “You are so right.”

“Norway!” Iceland shrieks, and though he’s mostlikely doing it on purpose, Norway can’t help but jump up in concern.

Romania has Iceland pinned to the grass, stilllaughing. Iceland is grinning too, but he looks up at Norway and dramaticallygasps for help. Norway shakes his head in amusement, but walks around the tableall the same, hauling Romania off his brother with a quick spell. The man landson his behind a little ways off.

Iceland clings to Norway’s legs, thanking himprofusely, and Norway can’t help but laugh too. All in all, Romania has doneIceland a lot of good, he thinks. He never used to be so open before.

“Two against one, that’s unfair,” Romaniacomplains. He narrows his eyes at Hong Kong, who sighs and stands up.

“Fine. Let’s fight instead of having a normal date like normal people withoutmagic.”

“You get it,” Romania says.

Norway helps Iceland to his feet, and they taketheir stance. They have practiced together before, but mostly against each other, so Norway isn’t surehow much of an advantage they’ll have over Romania and Hong Kong, who havenever practiced magic together. As far as he knows. They’ve been getting alongwell; he wouldn’t be entirely surprised.

Cold swirls around them, while the air startsshimmering with heat where Romania and Hong Kong are bracing themselves.They’re perfect opposites in many ways, but Norway knows how all three of themuse magic, and no one else has that advantage.

Romania breaks out of his stance first,thrusting his hand forward with a yell, but Iceland evidently saw it coming,because the blast never reaches him or Norway. He deflects it with an easyflick of his wrist. Norway feels pride swelling in his chest. Romania sticks histongue out, but then he’s ducking as Iceland fires off a gust of icy wind.

Hong Kong’s magic looks most like fireworks.His spells pop and crackle and knock Iceland off his feet. In response, Norwaypulls out his favorite trick, sending ribbons of green and purple light towardstheir opponents. Another one helps Iceland up. They’re like the Northernlights, and Norway still isn’t sure whatexactly he’s working with here, but they do the trick, slashing through thefireworks in a shimmering explosion. Hong Kong is thrown backwards by it andslams into Romania, who yelps when they fall over.

“Ha,” Iceland says. Norway looks down at him,then at their tangled boyfriends, and feels a grin tugging at his lips.

They cautiously make their way over to the heapof limbs. Norway instinctively tries to shield his brother, but Iceland ishaving none of it, tugging at his arm so they’re next to each other. The airtingles, tastes metallic.

“I think we’ve won,” Norway announces. “Ipropose the loser has to do the dishes.”

A red eye glints somewhere behind the mess ofHong Kong’s dark hair, but before Norway has time to react – he knows that glint and it means danger –he’s on the ground, sliding over the grass on his back. He starts to scrambleup, to no avail, as Iceland smashes into him seconds later, his face smushedinto Norway’s chest.

“Nore,” he mumbles, “I think we all need tore-think our definition of a romantic outing.”

Norway laughs and lets himself fall to hisback. The grass tickles his neck, and he pats Iceland’s hair absentmindedly.

“Do you surrender?” Romania booms, and Icelandstarts laughing too, shaking against Norway. Faintly, he can hear Hong Kongchuckle.

“Did I overdo it?” Romania asks, and Hong Konglaughs louder. “What kind of a partner are you, Hong Kong? Laughing at me.”

“Oh god, sorry.” He sits down next to Norway,leaning back on his hands. “I see what Iceland sees in you.”

“Please explain it to me,” Iceland mumbles. “BecauseI’m still not sure.”

Romania joins their strange pile, carding hisfingers through Iceland’s hair. They all just sit silently for a while, baskingin the sun. Iceland slowly disentangles himself from Norway and starts to leanon Romania instead. A bit of his shirt is scorched, but Norway decides not tocomment.

“So,” Hong Kong says eventually, and they alllook up at him, “loser has to do the dishes, hm, Norway?”

“Why did you say that?” Iceland complains. Norway bites his lip.

“Well—”

“And no using magic!” Romania interrupts him.

“Ro!”Iceland exclaims. Romania just grins in response, keeps grinning even asIceland presses him down, only stopping when he’s tugged him down to kiss him.

“Charming,” Hong Kong says. Romania winks athim, and he rolls his eyes, tucks himself under Norway’s arm.

“Hey. Hope youweren’t waiting for long.” He is winding the cords of a pair of headphones aroundhis fingers, puts them in his pocket.

Leon shakeshis head. “Few minutes.”

“I see. Well.”He puts a gloved hand on Leon’s shoulder and squeezes. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to seeyou too.” Leon licks his lips. “I was starting to think I’d never hear fromyou, to be honest.”

Einar tuckshis sharp nose into his scarf, looking mildly embarrassed. It’s a novel thing,something that serves to make him more human. As a teenager, Leon thought Einarwas flawless. It’s nice to know that he isn’t.

“If you must know,I was working up the courage,” he mumbles. Leon smiles. Einar furrows his brow.“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m notlaughing,” he lies. “Let’s walk. It’s cold.”

After the bothof them, over text messages, proved to be completely incompetent at organizinga date without interference from friends and/or family, they decided to meet upand just see where the day would take them. Privately, Leon is relieved. He cannever help but feel slightly out of place in restaurants, and how can you getto know each other during a movie, anyway?

So they takeoff in the direction of the city’s old center, walking past the sushi placewhere they had that first blind date, almost three weeks ago now. Einar reallyhad taken his time sending a message. Workingup the courage. It’s endearing.

“So hey,” Leonstarts, eager to have a conversation, “were you just listening to music?”

“Hm.” Einarglances down at him. “I love music.”

“Great, great.Me too.”

“Yeah, I sawon your Facebook page, you’re a musician? Can’t believe you didn’t mention thatlast time.”

Leon almostsays there are many things he didn’t mention last time, but decides against it.This first. The rest later.

“Gotta leavesome mystery, isn’t it?”

Einar hums.

“You don’thave Facebook, or do you?”

“Nah.” Hekicks a stone away with a small metallic noise from his boots. “I used to, butit wasn’t good for anything. What kind of music do you make?”

They passbeneath the old city gate, stones weathered with age and green with moss. Thecontrast between the old center and the rest of the city is sharp, and it’ssomething Leon has always liked.

“Rock, mostly.I’ve tried the whole DJ thing, but my sister didn’t like it.”

“Your sister.”Einar frowns. “Do I know her?”

He smiles. “She’sfriends with your brother too, used to be part of that group that would comeover and, like, terrorize you in your own house.”

At this, Einarlaughs. His breath clouds in the cold air. “I wouldn’t call it terrorizing, Leon. Maybe our mothermight have thought that, but I never minded.”

“Good to know.”Leon peers down the cobblestone street. There aren’t many people about, butenough that the air is filled with pleasant chatter. He stuffs his handsfurther in the pockets of his jacket, suppressing a shiver. “Want to go getlunch somewhere?”

“Sounds good.Tell you what, let’s just pretend we’ve never been here before. Where would wego to lunch?”

“Oh!” Leonlikes this idea. He immediately starts looking at the familiar street withdifferent eyes. Despite having lived here nearly his whole life, there are manyplaces he’s never been to. It’s always easier to stick with what he knows.

Einar toucheshis arm, pointing down a narrow alley when Leon looks up at him. In the shadows,he can see a blackboard with an elegantly written menu on it. He nods at Einar.The alley is unfamiliar to him, but the café they find is warm and inviting.They go in. Einar begins shedding layers, slowly revealing his lanky form asLeon sits down, having shrugged his jacket over the back of a chair. There ismusic playing, something jazzy he doesn’t know.

The giganticcoat comes off, and Einar’s wearing a cardigan underneath, which he fumbleswith for a moment, glancing at Leon before taking it off, which leaves him in asimple sweater. He quirks a corner of his mouth up, almost shyly, as he sitsdown too. The table is round, which leaves them not really next to each other,but not across from each other either.

Lunch is good,nice and warm, and they talk some more about music.

“Metal,” saysEinar. “I like lots of things, but metal is my favorite.”

Leon nearly laughs.“I should have guessed.” And, when Einar raises his eyebrows at him. “The bootsare a pretty good clue.”

Einar kickshim gently in the shin with one of the boots. Then, Leon does laugh.

The coldoutside slams into Leon like an icy sledgehammer, and he’s shivering violentlywhen they make it back to the main street.

“You’re cold.”

Leon glancesup at Einar. “Never been good at dressing for cold weather— What are you doing?”

“Lending youmy coat, that’s what.” Unheeding of Leon’s mumbled protests, Einar takes hiscoat off, and drapes it around Leon’s shoulders. The dark blue fabric nearlyreaches his knees, while on Einar it only went to his thighs. It smells freshand feels warm. His fingertips barely reach outside the sleeves.

“Won’t you becold?”

“I’ll be fine.”His dark eyes sweep over Leon, and a smile tugs at his mouth. “I like how itlooks on you.”

Leon huffs andwalks along. Einar clunks after him with his heavy boots.

They walkthrough the park, and it’s only some mothers watching their playing childrenthat stop them from going on the swing set. They duck into more unfamiliaralleys, find a shop selling occult merchandise that they spend some time inwhile the owner unsuccessfully attempts to convince them to buy tarot cards.Einar pretends to read Leon’s future in his palm, then doesn’t let go of hishand when they leave the shop.

When someoneon a street corner attempts to sell them a subscription to something or theother, Leon vehemently denies that he speaks his language, breaking out inCantonese while Einar does a very bad job of hiding his laughter. He looks goodwhen he laughs. Less angular. It’s something Leon’s never appreciated before.

“I don’t thinkhe believed you,” he says, further down the street.

“No thanks toyou, Einar. You were doing a very bad job of being Chinese.”

He laughsagain, pushing against Leon good-naturedly. They still haven’t let go of eachother’s hands. It feels very safe, like this.

“We should govisit the old bell tower,” Einar proposes. “If we’ve never been here before,that’s the one thing we’ve got to see.”

“I hope theyhave Chinese information booklets,” Leon mumbles.

The bell toweris the thing about the city that can be found on every postcard. When Leonthinks about it, he realizes he never hasvisited the building. It’s always been there, just standing unbothered whilenew buildings rose in the distance. Like most of the locals, he thinks, hedoesn’t see it as something noteworthy.

They find thatthe tower is open for public, but abandoned, probably due to the cold weather.

“No Chinesebooklets,” Einar observes. He pulls one out of the rack. “Here’s a German one.”

“You’re notGerman.”

Einar smilesat him. “More so than Chinese.” He puts the booklet back, pulling one in theright language out.

They climb thestairs. By the time they reach the top, Leon feels like shedding Einar’s coat,but when he emerges into the cold, he immediately goes back on that thought.There is wind up here, and it is biting. Einar, behind him, hisses when hesteps outside. He narrows his eyes.

“I see why it’sso quiet here,” he says dryly. “Let’s just make a round and go back down.” Hegrasps Leon’s hand again, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

On the otherside of the tower, the wind is less harsh, but they still huddle close togetherto look out over the city. Leon pushes his hair out of his face, and it flopsinto his eyes anyway. Einar lets go of his hand to sling an arm around hisshoulder. They’re quiet for a while.

“Hey,” Einarsays.

Leon looks upat him. “Are you cold?”

“Not really.”He turns to him, leaning against the railing. His hair whips into his face. “Weshould do this again. A couple times. If you want to.”

“A coupletimes?” Leon echoes. Einar bites his lip in a nearly bashful way.

“If you wantto,” he repeats.

“I want to,like, a couple times.” He takes a deep breath. “I like you, Einar.” It’s on thetip of his tongue to tell him how infatuated he was with him as a teenager, thebest friend’s mysterious older brother, but swallows it. There’s no need toembarrass himself that much on a second date.

A smilebroader than any he has seen so far.

“I like youtoo,” Einar says, nodding. “I feel like this could be something.”

And neither ofthem knows who moved first, but they’re kissing on top of the windy bell tower,Leon shoving his cold hands underneath Einar’s scarf, Einar fitting his glovesaround Leon’s jaw. The wind blows their hair into each other’s face, and whenthey part, they’re both laughing.

“This could besomething,” Leon repeats. “Now let’s go down before we freeze.”

“Married?”Hong Kong had echoed, hand jerking in Norway’s.

“Handfasted, technically.”

The spell made sense suddenly. Of course, thatone word they didn’t know would then… Right. England had gotten Norwaymagically married to someone he had barely ever spoken to before, and even ifit wouldn’t mean anything to the other nations, Norway already knew it wouldget him into a lot of trouble with the spirit world.

“Hand-what?” Hong Kong had asked, and Norwayhad remembered how young he was. Hehimself was, what – six times as old as him?

As England tried to explain to Hong Kong thathandfasting was an old marriage ritual, Norway finally succeeded in prying hishand out of his grip. He’d wiped his palm on his slacks and pushed at HongKong’s leg, trying to get him to stand up. He’d done so distractedly, stilllistening to England.

And that was why Norway was here now, trying tosift through his own spell books in the hopes of finding something he could useto get out of the ‘marriage’. He and Hong Kong had had a short conversation,mainly Norway promising he’d do the same as England and try to find a solution,and Hong Kong nodding in apparent disinterest. He wasn’t so bad, Norwaythought. The main problem was the fairies who were scorned about him not havingtold them he was getting married.

He’d tried to explain, but they wouldn’t listenand wanted to meet his husband.

His husband.

More tugging on his hair. He swatted the fairyaway again.

He couldn’t find anything useful, and hopedEngland would have more success. It was, after all, a custom from his home he’dsubjected Norway and Hong Kong to.

Norway was about to close the book and just layhis head on top of it when loud guitars pierced through the silence of hishouse, and he jerked up, scrambling for his phone. He should have put it onsilent.

An unknown number, definitely not Norwegian.

“Thomassen,” he answered, using his human nameas he always did with unknown callers.

“Hi, Norway? It’s me. Hong Kong.”

Norway frowned. “Hello. Is something wrong?”

“No. Well—” the nation huffed “—apart from thefact we’re married, no. England says you’ve been searching for a way to get usout of it, and I was wondering if I could, like, help.”

“Help? I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Hong Kong replied, obviouslydisappointed. Curiously, he was easier to read now that Norway couldn’t see hisface. “Are you sure?”

Norway was about to say yes, but then he lookedaround the room and its towering books, and sighed. Most of them, Hong Kongwouldn’t be able to read, but he was sure he had some English tomes aroundsomewhere that he would be able to search through. It would mean a little lesswork for himself.

“Norway?”

“No, actually, ya can help. Ya still at thehotel where the meeting was?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll come pick ya up, okay?”

Hong Kong made a noise of affirmation and told Norwayhe’d be waiting.

And that was why they were both here now, lookingthrough dusty books on opposite ends of the room while the fairies buzzedexcitedly between them, pointing out to Norway how cute Hong Kong was, and hehas a tiny mole underneath his eye and it’s adorable and he is scrunching hisnose and hey did you see that! HongKong was unbothered, unable to see them, but it was slowly driving Norwayinsane.

“Hey, your husband is so—”

“That’s enough!”Norway burst, and Hong Kong dropped his book in surprise, yelping when it hithis left foot.

“What?”

“I’m going somewhere else,” he replied,brusquely standing up.

“What, why?” Hong Kong stood up as well,wincing when he put weight on his foot. “Did you find something?”

Norway was halfway to the door already. Thefairies usually didn’t venture out into his house. They liked to hover aroundwhere the magic concentrated, so he was certain enough they wouldn’t bother himin the living room. Hong Kong hopped after him on one foot.

“I didn’t find anything,” Norway sighed,tugging a fairy from his shirt. “But I’m getting nothing done.”

“Why not?” Hop, hop. Norway felt his lipstwitch without his permission as he watched Hong Kong struggle over.

“It’s— Hard to explain.”

Hong Kong raised his impressive eyebrows, themost display of emotion Norway had seen from him so far.

Norway sighed. “C’mon.” He offered Hong Konghis arm, helping him hop up the stairs to the hall. It had already turned darkoutside, and Norway quickly snapped the lights on as he helped Hong Kong to theliving room, the man holding his waist instead of his shoulders due to theheight difference between them.

“Ya want anything to eat?” he asked, while HongKong untied his shoelaces and tried to pry his left shoe off.

“Eat? Yeah, like, if it’s no trouble?”

Norway shook his head. He’d just toss a saladtogether or something, and he had some soup left from yesterday that could bewarmed. Hong Kong didn’t look like he ate much. Then again, neither did Norwayhimself, but he did.

When he came back to the living room, havingput some bread rolls in the oven, Hong Kong was inspecting his foot, whichlooked rather swollen already.

“How’s that?” Norway asked. He had a brief,unprecedented thought about having to be a good husband and almost laughed athimself. He didn’t even know what human name Hong Kong used for himself becausethey talked so little. Not the best start of a marriage.

“Kinda hurts, but at least I can move my toes.”He did just that. “But hey, you never told me why you wanted to leave thebasement so suddenly.”

Sitting down on the other end of the couch,Norway replied, “You probably know England can see magical creatures?”

“M-hm, I’m pretty sure he has a unicorn orsomething, totally weird.”

“I can as well. The most common species ‘roundare fairies, but they’re…” His lip twitched. “Actually really annoying.”

“And they were bothering you,” Hong Kongfinished, catching on quickly. “But I can’t see them?”

“Most people can’t. It’s an inherent thing.”

Hong Kong nodded, furrowing his brow inthought. “So what were they bothering you about?”

“You,” Norway said. And then, in response toHong Kong’s eyebrows raising again, “They think I picked a good husband in ya.”

Hong Kong huffed a laugh, eyebrows jumping. Hereally wasn’t so bad. Far more levelheaded than Norway would have thought,interested without England’s temperament or China’s invasiveness. So far, atleast.

“Glad your fairies approve,” Hong Kong quipped,then winced when he moved his foot. Norway bit his lip.

“I can help ya with that,” he offered, hoveringa hand over the now definitely swollen foot.

“Like, magically?” He seemed interested,tilting his head so his hair covered his eyes.

Norway nodded, and Hong Kong shrugged, theninclined his head in a universal go-ahead motion, so Norway spread his palmflat on the warm skin, thumb and forefinger circling Hong Kong’s ankle, andclosed his eyes. It wasn’t a bad wound, so it didn’t take a lot of energy toheal it.

Hong Kong was staring at him when he opened hiseyes.

“What?” Norway asked, suddenly self-conscious.He hadn’t healed anyone but himself in a long time, and wasn’t really sure whyhe offered.

“Nothing. That was pretty cool.” He moved hisfoot, and Norway pulled his hand back. “Thanks.”

Mumbling vaguely in reply, Norway got up andwent to check on the oven.

They didn’t talk much over their late dinner,but it wasn’t uncomfortable, Norway thought. Hong Kong wanted to know what thefairies said about him, and laughed when Norway told him. He offered to dry thedishes.

“So, like, what other magical creatures arethere?” he asked thoughtfully, later in the kitchen. “Fairies, unicorns…”

“Almost anything you can think of has a basisin reality,” Norway replied, putting glasses on the drying rack. “ExceptBigfoot, maybe. I’m not sure about that one.”

Hong Kong laughed again, and Norway smiled.

He really wasn’t so bad.

Later still, when Hong Kong had gone back tothe hotel, Norway went back to the basement to grab some of his books. It wastechnically illegal to break a handfast, or had been when they were common, sohe wasn’t sure whether he, or England orHong Kong, would find anything useful, but he’d try, because to the magicalrealm, it carried all kind of notions to be married. There were places hewouldn’t be able to come, or come without Hong Kong. He’d be expected tointroduce his husband to the king ofthe trolls and whatnot.

Oh, and he didn’t even want to think about whatthey’d expect of him – them – come Midsummer.

He fell asleep no wiser than he was when hestarted.

There were meetings today as well, and Norwaywas exhausted.

“If it isn’t my husband looking like deathwarmed over,” Hong Kong said by way of a greeting, when the meetings werefinally over and everyone was leaving the hotel for the last time. They hadn’tseen each other all day.

“Hello,” Norway replied shortly. He wasn’treally in the mood for jokes. He’d stayed up too late and got up too early, andthen had to deal with England chattering at him about spells for half themorning.

“Hey, did you get enough sleep?”

Norway glanced down at Hong Kong, and he lookedgenuinely concerned, going by the crease in his eyebrows. What was it to himwhether Norway got enough sleep or not?

“No.”

He nodded. “Hey, Nor – can I call you Nor?”

Norway shrugged. He didn’t mind.

“Okay, I was thinking, like, I’d like to helpsome more with this whole thing. I could stay here for a while.”

They had reached the bus station.

“It’s pretty cool – I mean, how often do youget accidentally married, right? – and you’re an alright guy, I guess, but Ialso wanna get out of it, because like, it’s just weird.”

Norway kept looking down at him, and he startedfidgeting slightly, tucking his hair behind his ear. It looked strange, andNorway wanted to pull it free.

He adjusted his own hairpin instead, saying,“Ya can help, I’d appreciate it. Will ya stay at the hotel?”

Hong Kong shrugged. “I think so. China can lookafter my home for a while.” He pressed his lips together. “I’ll tell Macau tokeep an eye out.”

“C’mon, then.”

Norway nearly fell asleep on the bus, his headdropping on Hong Kong’s shoulder several times. He didn’t seem to mind, butNorway was still mildly embarrassed. When Hong Kong wasn’t occupied nudging Norwayawake, he told some stories about Macau and Taiwan, whose human names Norwaynow heard for the first time. And he still didn’t know what he should call HongKong when they were in public.

Well, it didn’t matter that much. They mostlikely wouldn’t be spending a lot of time together in public anyway.

“Maybe you should take a nap. Unless you don’ttrust me with your house, of course,” Hong Kong said when they had reached thehouse in question. “Hey, do we have joint ownership now that we’re married?”

“If that’s so, ya can have the fairies.”

“Oh, sure, at least they won’t bother youanymore. Seriously, you should take a nap.”

Norway shrugged, and Hong Kong rolled his eyes.

“This is a very nice house, by the way,” hethen remarked. “Have I said that?”

“No. But thank you.”

“It’s very, like, you, or something.” He tucked his hair behind his ear while Norwayunlocked the door. “You’re nice too.”

“Ya sound surprised.”

In the hallway, they both took off their shoes,Hong Kong his white sneakers and Norway his leather dress shoes.

“I guess I wassurprised,” Hong Kong said, and Norway had to think for a second to rememberwhat they had been talking about. “Or I am,I don’t know. Whenever I see you, you’re just, like, wearing this blank face orrolling your eyes at something and I guess it’s slightly intimidating? I don’tknow.”

Norway had heard similar things often before.He turned away from Hong Kong to smile, because it was unexpectedly flatteringto have someone so completely unrelated to him see through that layer ofuncaring.

They got some books from the basement that theycould look through, and the afternoon was spent fruitlessly turning dustypages, Norway’s eyes continually drooping.

“Honestly,” Hong Kong said suddenly, startlingNorway. He jerked his head up just in time to see the last traces of a fondsmile around Hong Kong’s lips. “You really should take a nap.”

“What, no— It’s nearly time for dinner,” Norwayprotested.

“Then how about—” and he was standing up,stretching his arms over his head and cracking his back “—I make something toeat, and you sleep. If you’d trust me with your house, you’ll trust me withyour kitchen, right?”

Norway tilted his head back to look at HongKong, who was now standing behind him, leaning on the back of his chair. He sighed.

“Okay.” Standing up, he added, “I’ll show yawhere to find everything.”

So Norway fell asleep listening to Hong Kongputtering around in the kitchen, and the kid really did make a good husband,didn’t he?

Knocking on his bedroom door woke him, and he satup sleepily, straightening his shirt and rubbing his eyes. Hong Kong was framedin the doorway, leaning against the doorpost.

“Dinner’s ready,” he announced, and then overhis shoulder as he turned to walk away, “dear.”

Norway smiled to himself, raked his fingersthrough his sleep-messy hair, and went to see what Hong Kong had cooked up.

It was delicious,and Norway had no idea what Hong Kong had donein his kitchen to make this, but – of all the people to get accidentallymarried to, he was thinking Hong Kong was quite a good non-choice.

“I was thinking,” Hong Kong said when they weredoing the dishes again, this time with Norway drying.

“Hm?”

“Your human name – Thomassen? Is that yoursurname?”

“Yes.”

“If I’d take your surname, I’d be LeonThomassen.” He tilted his head, using a soapy hand to tuck his hair behind hisear once again. “Sounds okay.”

Norway hid a smile behind his own hair. HongKong was taking this as seriously as he himself was, which was not very, and itwas amusing. He could have just easily gotten stuck with someone who’d spendthe time freaking out at him. He could have gotten stuck with England himself.

“What’s your given name? The human one?”

“I call myself Einar.”

Hong Kong was smiling now, Norway could seethrough the strands of blond hair obscuring his vision.

“That’d make you Einar Li,” he said, and thesmile colored his voice. “That sounds stupid.”

“It does,” Norway agreed. So Hong Kong calledhimself Leon Li. That was nice, it fit with him.

When they were done, Norway finally gave in,pulling Hong Kong’s dark hair free from behind his ear, letting it fall acrosshis cheek. The nation smiled in surprise, covering the bit of hair with hishand. Norway bit his lip and turned, unsure why he even wanted to do that. HongKong looked more like himself with his hair free, but he didn’t see why thatshould matter.

Neither of them felt like looking through yetmore books in the evening, so Hong Kong spent some time playing with hissmartphone while Norway flicked through channels on the TV absentmindedly. HongKong’s feet pressed against his thigh from time to time, and he had the curiousurge to pull them into his lap.

He didn’t, though. He didn’t want to disruptthe comfortableness of the evening.

The process repeated itself the next day;although the meetings were over, Norway went to pick Hong Kong up from thehotel in the early afternoon, and they were quickly running out of books tosearch through. Norway hoped England was having more luck, but the message hereceived later in the day didn’t look very promising on that point.

Hong Kong looked over his head to read it onhis phone, his sigh ruffling Norway’s hair.

This time, they made dinner together, which waspleasant, as they worked rather well as a team.

When, after dinner, Norway was doing somepaperwork for his boss, he received a summons in the form of a small blue fairylanding on his work and telling him the queen requested he and his husband showup for an audience. Norway tried to ask what she wanted of them, but she wasgone already. Knowing from experience that it was a bad idea to ignore anofficial summons like this, he pulled Hong Kong away from a spell book heseemed to find particularly interesting.

A glimmer appeared in his eyes when Norway toldhim what had happened, and it was hard to keep from smiling in reply.

“So how do we meet this fairy queen?” he asked,obviously curious.

“Well, first—” Norway looked down at his husband appraisingly. “First, ya needother clothes.”

“What?” Hong Kong looked at himself as well. Hewas wearing the same jeans-and-T-shirt ensemble as yesterday. It wasn’tanything to show up in to court. “All my clothes are at the hotel, you know.”

“Hmh.”

“And I don’t think anything of yours will makeme look more, like, dignified.”

Involuntarily, Norway found himself imaginingHong Kong drowning in one of his shirts, the sleeves slipping over his handsand the hem long enough to cover his thighs. He bit his lips and blinked thefantasy away, focusing on the actual Hong Kong and his raised eyebrows.

“Ya forget, I’m actually pretty good at magic.”

The eyebrows quirked, but Hong Kong followedwithout question when Norway started walking to his bedroom. He shuffled in thedoorway until he was gestured in.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Whoa – I know we’re married and all, but Ireally think you should buy me dinner first, Norway.”

“We’ll go out tomorrow.” Norway held out one ofhis shirts without looking up, a red one he almost never wore. When Hong Kongdidn’t take it, he looked at him. “What?”

“Did you just tell me we’re going out to dinnertomorrow?” He lifted the shirt with one finger. “Also, I think this is, like, alittle too big.”

“Just put it on.” Norway didn’t know why hesaid the dinner thing. It slipped out, but he supposed he wouldn’t be opposed.If they were still married by then. Or even if they weren’t, but Hong Kongwould probably want to go home as soon as they found a way to divorce.

“It’s really too big, I don’t know what youexpected.”

Norway expected exactly this, but still, it wasodd to see the small nation disappearing in his shirt. That hadn’t everhappened before. Norway knew he was skinny, most people wore bigger sizes than hedid. He was just so much taller than Hong Kong. To see him like this wasendearing at the same time it was, in a way, empowering.

He didn’t say any of those things, though, justtook a small step forward to place his hands on Hong Kong’s shoulders. Hiscollarbones showed.

“What are you doing?”

Norway mumbled a word under his breath, runninghis hands down Hong Kong’s arms. He felt the fabric move under his fingers, andHong Kong gasped when the shirt became a nearly perfect fit, tightening aroundhis chest. He was leaner than Norway had expected him to be.

“Oh,” he breathed. Norway inclined his head,hiding another smile as he did up the top buttons.

“Ya can wear your own shirt to dinner if yaprefer.”

Hong Kong huffed a laugh, and Norway looked athis face again, letting himself smile back.

“Do I look presentable now?” He spread his armscheekily. Norway swept his gaze down his body. The jeans would have to do –pants were much harder to change than shirts – but he really did look good inred. Norway’s gaze lingered on his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob. Hesnapped himself out of it when he realized what he was doing.

“You’ll do. C’mon.”

Even as he made an indignant noise, Hong Kongfollowed Norway to the garden. They’d have to cross into the realm of thefairies, where Hong Kong would actually be able to see them, and there was away there in the garden – a standing stone Norway had been lugging around towherever he moved for over two centuries now. It was bothersome, but still theeasiest way to ensure himself passage there.

“So what now?” Hong Kong asked.

Silently, Norway placed a hand flat on thestone, opening the way into the other realm. He heard Hong Kong gasp behind himwhen the way opened, spilling soft purple light into the dusk. He turned tohim.

“When we’re at the court,” he started, “do not eator drink anything.”

Hong Kong tilted his head, saying, “I know thatmyth. If you eat something, you can’t leave?”

“It’s not a myth. Let’s go.”

They walked silently through a hall bathed inpurple light, Norway keeping his eyes straight ahead. He’d made the mistake ofgetting distracted a few times when he was younger and had no desire to repeatthe experience. He did, however, glance back at Hong Kong a few times. He wasstaring around in apparent wonder, at the elegant columns rising around them,tinted lilac and adorned with leaves and intricate vines. There were nowindows, but the walls glistened and the high ceiling sparkled.

This wasn’t even the worst of it.

They reached the doors to the court, and Norwayhad to wait up for Hong Kong.

When the guards opened the doors, lettingnatural light in once again, Hong Kong gasped, and though Norway was silent, hehad to admit he too was impressed, as always. A wealth of color beckoned tothem; a wide-open dusky sky, flowers growing around wood and glass, clothes ofnearly translucent fabric shimmering in the light of lanterns. Music was beingplayed somewhere, and the scent of fresh fruits spilled out. Here, allcreatures were human-sized, more or less. Norway had thought long about it andreckoned maybe he was the one who got resized, but had decided to leave italone a long time ago.

“The queen wishes to see you,” said a fairy mandressed in white and blue, his eyes a bright apple green. “Follow me.”

Hong Kong didn’t follow right away, lingeringby the doors in awe. Norway bit his lip and reached for his hand so he couldpull him along.

“What—”

“Don’t get distracted. Just follow my lead.”

To his credit, Hong Kong kept up the pacewithout Norway having to pull on his hand. Still, he didn’t let go. Norway hadnever been here with another nation, or anyone, really. After all this time, hefound it was reassuring to be able to hold on to someone. He didn’t want tothink about it too much, but Hong Kong threaded their fingers together and itbecame impossible not to.

Until they reached the queen, seated on herthrone of flowers and glass, green skin seeming to glow. She had been queenever since Norway was a child, which was a long time ago, but still looked asbeautiful and graceful as she did the day they met. She was the only person –creature – Norway really felt awed by these days.

“Northland,” she started – and he wouldn’t everconvince them to stop calling him that, would he? –, “I hear you’ve beenhandfasted.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Norway replied. He bowed,tugging at Hong Kong’s hand to indicate he should do the same thing. He did,quite gracefully. They probably looked stupid, still holding hands, like theywere doing a curtain call, but it was for the best, Norway told himself.

“And this is your husband?”

Norway squeezed Hong Kong’s hand. “Yes, he is.”

The queen crossed her legs and looked him upand down, then said, “I see. He is young, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is,” Norway repeated. Honestly, if shewas going to accuse him of being a cradle-robber—

“And what is your name, child?”

“Ah—” Hong Kong started, but Norway squeezedhis hand again, and he stopped the obvious protest. “My name is Hong Kong. Yourmajesty.”

“Very well.”

Hong Kong had come closer to Norway withminiature steps, pressing their entire forearms together and radiating heatinto Norway’s skin even through the shirt he was wearing.

The queen announced she had gifts of fertilityfor the two of them. One of the servants snickered when she said that, andNorway could feel Hong Kong huffing at his side. Well, as long as they didn’twant to see the gifts in action, they’d be fine. Probably. Fairy magic wasstrong magic.

The gifts turned out to be rings, gold for thesun. Norway had to let go of Hong Kong to accept his. His hand felt empty, andhe mindlessly tried to reach for Hong Kong’s again when the gift was received,but he was a pace too far away. Curling his fingers in thin air, Norway hopedhe hadn’t freaked him out, because he honestly quite liked the nation and wouldlike to be friends with him when this was all over with.

After some formalities, they were free to go,and a servant appeared to lead the way out. Norway knew this was the hardestpart – the fairies would always try to keep one here.

Therefore, he wasn’t entirely surprised when hefelt Hong Kong’s presence disappear from his side halfway through the court,but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. Even though they weren’t actually acouple, he felt Hong Kong should know better than to follow – Norway looked –follow an extremely attractive member of the court, whose gender was not easilydiscernible. The fairy was winding their fingers through Hong Kong’s hair,which had a purple shine in the light. Norway gritted his teeth.

“Excuse me,” he told the smug servant leadingthe way, and he marched over to Hong Kong, grabbed his hand and pulled him awayfrom the fairy, rougher than he intended. This was why he didn’t like to comehere. Everything became jumbled. He had no reason to be jealous.

Oh. He was jealous.

Hong Kong nearly tripped over his own feet asNorway pulled him along, and he kept glancing over his shoulder all through thehall.

In the garden once again, Norway had to fightthe urge to slam Hong Kong up against the standing stone and—

“Oh, dear god, what just happened?”

“You were almost enthralled,” Norway said. HongKong’s head snapped up to him, and he realized how gravelly his voice had becomeall of a sudden. He quickly turned, taking deep breaths and pushing his hairout of his face. Maybe he was the one enthralled.

A hand on his shoulder. His heart raced.

“Norway? You alright?”

He closed his eyes. “Yes, don’t worry. It’salways disorienting in there.”

“Hey.” Hong Kong walked around to face Norway.It looked like he was blushing. “Sorry. That wasn’t very, like, husbandly ofme.”

“They werevery attractive,” Norway mumbled. A corner of Hong Kong’s mouth ticked up.

“True. But you’re not so bad yourself.”Immediately after he said that, he was gone, walking back to Norway’s house,which left Norway to stare at the standing stone and bite his lip in wonder.

The rest of the evening started tense, at leastfor Norway, who didn’t know how to feel about what had happened, but heeventually relaxed until the same companionable atmosphere as yesterday dawnedon the living room. Hong Kong was still reading that magic book, and Norway didthe last of his paperwork while the radio provided background noise. It wasvery domestic, and Norway occasionally found himself glancing at the ring HongKong was wearing, wondering if anyone who didn’t know them would think theywere actually married.

Well, they were married, of course. Just not acouple.

Norway jerked awake at two in the night withhis reading glasses still on and Hong Kong sleeping with his head cushioned onNorway’s upper legs. The spell book was resting on his chest, but Norway’s jerkmade him shift so that it fell to the ground with what sounded like an enormousthwack. He was startled awake as well, looking up at Norway for a long moment.

“Oh,” he then breathed, slowly sitting up.“What time is it?”

“Two?” Norway rotated his neck and took hisglasses off.

“That’s… I should go back to the hotel. Arethere, like, night buses or something?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

A small pause. Norway wet his lips.

“I— Ya can stay here. I’ve got a spare room,there’s just some… Junk on the bed.”

“Don’t get a lot of overnight guests?”

Norway shrugged.

“But sure, that sounds good. Lead the way,dear.”

Okay, so – somejunk might have been rather optimistically put, but Norway was sure he coulduse his magic to get the collection of books and old clothes and trinkets outof the way. He’d only lived here for five years, how could he have accumulatedthis much of a mess already?

They managed to pile enough things against theopposite wall that the bed was free and the door could still be reached in justover an hour, five minutes of which Hong Kong spent laughing at a Christmassweater he found among the mess. It was a yellow and green monstrosity withbells on that Norway remembered he had once unironically worn, but now wouldn’tbe caught dead in. Even for him, that was too much.

It was half past three by the time Norwayfinally found the bedding and could make the bed, and then Hong Kong had toborrow a shirt to sleep in, and Norway was hazy with sleep but dark blue alsolooked amazing on him…

This time, he woke up to sunlight shining intohis face and lean legs tangled with his own.

Norway jerked back, startling Hong Kong awake.They stared at each other.

“Good morning,” Hong Kong whispered, as if itwere normal that Norway was in bed with him. He must have fallen asleep heretonight, exhausted after the cleaning and the situation at the fairy court.

“Hi,” he croaked back. “Sorry, I…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

And so they lay in silence, charged but notuncomfortable. Norway liked the way Hong Kong’s hair looked, the sunlightcreating hues of brown and red in it. He wasa good-looking person, Norway had noticed before they even got married, but it was in the same way henoticed that, objectively speaking, Estonia and Turkey and Vietnam weregood-looking. He’d never noticed the little golden flecks in his eyes or thecharming way his teeth were a little crooked.

It had been a long time since Norway had justbeen in bed with someone like this.

“What’s the time?” Hong Kong asked, barelyabove a whisper. Norway wet his lips as he reached for his phone on thenightstand. The clock in this room had stopped working, probably a while ago.

“Nine thirty,” he read. Late enough to get up,definitely, but he didn’t really want to.

Hong Kong was smiling softly, his headcushioned on one arm. He had dark eyelashes that caught the light. Norwaywanted nothing more than to touch his face, run his fingers over his cheek,contour his lips and feel him breathe.

He froze, only letting himself rotate the ringnow around his ring finger.  This wasjust because they’d spent an unusual amount of time together. It didn’t mean hewas— Didn’t mean he felt anything for Hong Kong, who he still barely knew.

Norway rolled to his back and swung his legsout of the bed. He hadn’t even slept under the covers, and was still wearinghis clothes from yesterday.

“Ya want any breakfast?” he asked, standing up.

“Hmh,” Hong Kong said. He was stretching, hisback arching off the bed as he groaned. Norway quickly looked away.

After a small breakfast and a quick shower,Norway took Hong Kong to his hotel. He gathered enough courage to ask him toleave the place and come stay with him just in time, blurting the question asHong Kong was preparing to leave the car, hand already on the door. He sat backand looked at Norway with raised eyebrows.

“It probably won’t be for long, but it’s mucheasier,” Norway explained.

His husband smiled. “Okay. Sure.”

So, with Hong Kong’s bags packed, they went tothe local supermarket for groceries and answered a call from England, whoclaimed one of his brothers might have more information about what they coulddo. He saw fit to warn them about the fairy court, and neither of themmentioned they’d already been through that one, though they did glance at eachother knowingly. Norway’s ring felt heavy on his hand. It was best to wear it,he thought. You never knew what the fairy folk might think if they didn’t, andhe had no desire to antagonize them.

It was, of course, a perfect fit.

He showed Hong Kong around the small town hecalled home at the moment, pointing out things in Norwegian when asked. Theyhad lunch at a café hidden on the outskirts of town, crammed in between a lakeand a mountain. It was a nice day, even if they did nothing productive.

“So how about that dinner?” Hong Kong asked, oncemore in Norway’s house. He was vacating the left side of the couch, in whatNorway had started to think of as hisspot already.

“Do ya want to go out?”

“If it’s no trouble. It’d be fun.” He drew hislegs up, resting his chin on his knees.

Of course it was no trouble. Norway madereservations under his human name.

Before they left, Hong Kong insisted on takinga shower. Norway flipped some pages in spell books as he listened to water runand resolutely did not let his mind wander.

It would be Midsummer in just a few days, herealized; there were already preparations going on for the parties. They had tobe divorced by then – there was so much magic in the air during Midsummer thattheir handfast would become impossible, not just difficult, to break. He didn’tknow if he wanted to tell Hong Kong about that. If England or one of hisbrothers knew how to annul the marriage before then, there would be no need to.If they didn’t, well, what was the point?

Light footsteps in the room. Norway realizedthe water had shut off a while ago, and he looked up to find Hong Kong in hisown white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and his hair still damp andhalf slicked back. He couldn’t ignore the way his chest went tight when he sawhim, but he wrote it off as nothing more than attraction. It was fine to beattracted to people. There had to be no other feelings involved.

“Hey,” Hong Kong said, half-smiling.

“Hi.” Norway cleared his throat. “Hi. Ya looknice.”

“Thank you.” He straightened his collar. “Fancyenough?”

“Yeah. Yeah, perfect. I’ll go put somethingelse on, too.”

Hong Kong nodded, leaning a hip against thetable while Norway went upstairs to pick out a nice shirt. He was still therewhen, after much unnecessary deliberating, Norway returned in a dark blue dressshirt and black jeans, and he was rotating the thin golden ring around hisfinger. His fingers weren’t as thin as Norway’s, but he had small hands. Itreally did look like a wedding ring. When they got to the restaurant, peoplewould think they were married. Which theywere, Norway had to remind himself.

“Hey. You look, like… You look great.” And hiseyes were raking over Norway’s body in a way he could almost describe as hungry.It made his heart skip a beat.

“Thank you. Shall we go, then?”

“Of course, dear.”

The restaurant staff did indeed think they weremarried, and neither of them denied it. Hong Kong even replied when called MrThomassen, courteously explaining that sorry,he didn’t speak Norwegian yet, his dear husband was still teaching him.

Norway rolled his eyes at the nation, who justsmiled mischievously and raised his eyebrows as if to challenge him.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Norwayasked the waiter in Norwegian if the seating placement mightn’t be changed sohis husband could sit next to him, and the request was swiftly obeyed, leavingHong Kong to shake his head and join Norway on his side of the table.

He retaliated by offering – feeding – Norway bites of his mixed fishplatter, even going as far as wiping Norway’s mouth with his napkin after heaccepted the food.

It was amusing. Norway knew there weren’t manypeople he’d do something like this with, and he didn’t think Hong Kong would.

He wasn’t sure how to react to this action, orwhat game they were even playing. The possibility of kissing Hong Kong flittedthrough his mind, lodging itself in some deep part only to resurface atinopportune moments but not coming to fruition. Instead, he just shuffledcloser to him until they were thigh-to-thigh and stole scoops of his dessertthat Hong Kong tried to win back by getting Norway’s spoon into his mouth. Itwas very hard not to laugh out loud.

But this was flirting, wasn’t it? Norway wasn’tvery good at that, or so he thought, but this was… He hadn’t even noticed whatwas going on until it was too late. This was natural, effortless.

God.

The urge to slam Hong Kong up against somethingwhen they left the restaurant was enormous once more. Norway didn’t know if itwas the glass of wine talking – it couldn’t be – but the dip of the nation’sthroat where he had undone the top buttons of his shirt was the mostfrustrating thing he’d seen all year. He wanted to know what the skin tastedlike, what Hong Kong’s lips tasted like, and it was just attraction now, but heliked Hong Kong, liked how levelheaded he was and how willing to roll with whathad happened to them, liked his small smiles and dry jokes. It could becomemore.

It was a beautiful night, clear and still pleasantdespite the moon already making its way across the sky, and they took a detourwalking back to Norway’s car. Their arms brushed together every few steps, theback of Norway’s hand touching the soft skin of Hong Kong’s forearm.

“This was nice,” Hong Kong said softly. His armpressed purposefully against Norway’s hand. Norway reached down slowly, runninghis fingers down Hong Kong’s wrist to twine their hands together. His heart wasbeating very fast.

“It was.”

A maybe-not-so-unintended date, Norway thought.Perhaps they were just doing things the wrong way around. Getting marriedfirst, then dating… He could see himself really becoming attached to Hong Kong.Already had, in a way.

They reached the car, and Norway stepped ontothe street to get to the driver’s side, letting go of Hong Kong’s hand, whenthe nation in question caught his attention with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hm?” Norway asked, turning to face him. He wasstill on the sidewalk, so the height difference wasn’t as drastic now, HongKong’s eyes level with Norway’s nose.

“I just, like…” He pressed his lips togetherand tucked his hair behind his ear in what was quickly becoming a familiarnervous gesture. “I kinda like being married to you, I guess.”

Norway felt a smile tugging at his lips.

“And I don’t know, maybe when this is done, wecould do this again. Not the getting accidentally married part. Uhm…”

“The part where we go on a date?” Norway askedunder his breath. He touched the tips of his shoes to the sidewalk.

A huff of breath. “Yeah, that part.”

“I’d like that.”

Hong Kong was nodding, pulling his hair freeand pressing his lips together in a smile. He glanced from the pavement toNorway, dark eyes flitting over his face, and then he was leaning in slowly,tilting his face up, and though Norway was momentarily captivated by the waythe moonlight caught on his cheekbone, he let himself sway forward until theirlips touched and his hand was on Hong Kong’s neck, carding through his hair. Itwas a soft, short kiss, but Norway clamped his eyes shut, blocking outeverything else, and leaned back in.

Arms wrapped around his neck. When Hong Kongtilted his head, their lips somehow fit perfectly together, and Norway could dothis forever. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed like this, completelyunhurried, uncaring that they were somewhere where people might know him.

Hong Kong was smiling; Norway could feel itagainst his own lips, see it when he pulled back a little. It felt good and itlooked amazing, and he smiled back, brushing his thumb over Hong Kong’s jaw.

“I don’t usually do this,” Hong Kong breathed,as if in wonder.

“Me neither,” Norway confessed. The tip of hisnose pressed against the bridge of Hong Kong’s. The smile refused to leave hislips. No, this was unlike him, but it felt good. It felt right.

“So what now?”

“Let’s go home.”

They spent another evening on the couch,watching a movie together, and though Norway was not entirely sure what it wasabout, it was enjoyable. He did pull Hong Kong’s feet into his lap this time,but they didn’t remain there for long, because Hong Kong scooted up on thecouch until his legs were draped over Norway’s thighs, so Norway wrapped an armaround him instead. Hong Kong curled into him, resting his head against hisshoulder. He was playing with the golden ring from the fairy queen.

Yes, this was nice.

The next morning, only four days untilMidsummer, Norway woke feeling good. Or as good as possible without having hadany coffee yet.

After having coffee and some toast, and afterindulging himself by kissing the top of Hong Kong’s head as he stumbled intothe kitchen, Norway received a message from his boss, telling him he did needto show up at the government at some point. He bit his lip. That’d be a fewhours out of his day. Maybe he could take Hong Kong to Oslo, show him around.

“Hey, Hong Kong?”

“Hm?” The nation tilted his head back over thebackrest of his chair. He was doing something with his phone, maybe checking onhis own house.

“Ya ever been to Oslo?”

“No? Why, are we going there?”

Norway explained that his boss wanted to seehim, and since the weather was nice, he’d like to show Hong Kong his capital.

“Okay, sure,” he said. “Don’t we have more booksto read or anything?”

Biting his lip, Norway replied, “England’sgonna be more useful than us on that.”

He was sure he heard Hong Kong mutter, “That’dbe a first,” and turned away to laugh. Hong Kong made an indignant noise.

“Are you laughing at me?” And he was behindNorway all of a sudden, wrapping his arms around his waist and tightening them.Norway jerked.

“Hey—”

“Oh,” Hong Kong breathed, a grin obvious inthat single syllable. “Norway…”

“No, don’t ya dare—”

However, he dug his fingers into Norway’s sidesand wriggled them relentlessly, laughing as Norway tried to squirm away, makingvery undignified snorting noises.

They ended up in a heap half-on, half-off thecouch, shirts rucked up and hair messy from the impromptu tickle fight. HongKong was a little flushed, a little wild, and Norway absolutely loved how itlooked on him. His fingers were still on Norway’s skin, resting warm on theexposed jut of a hipbone. It was easy to imagine what it would be like with alittle less clothes. Norway bit his lip and stopped Hong Kong’s fingers fromtouching the waistband of his jeans.

“Hm,” Hong Kong started, “not until the thirddate?”

“Maybe.” Norway pushed himself upright, leaningforward to kiss Hong Kong, who was sitting on the rug, then explained, “Mostly,it’s that I gotta be in Oslo in two hours, so I’d better make myselfpresentable.”

It wasn’t until he was at the living room doorthat he heard Hong Kong, behind him, say,

“Looks plenty presentable from here.”

Norway shook his head, smiling, and headed forthe bathroom upstairs.

Oh, he did look very flushed. He combed hishair, clipped it back on one side, splashed some water on his face. His clotheswere fine once straightened a bit. Next, Norway looked at the ring on hisfinger. His boss probably wouldn’t ask about it, but other people might.Especially those who didn’t know he was a nation would assume he just gotmarried. He did, but he’d rather keep Hong Kong to himself for now, get to knowhim a little better.

“It is certainly doing its job well, isn’t it?”a small voice piped up. The same blue fairy as earlier, sitting on Norway’sshaving cream. She waved cheerily, wings fluttering.

“What’s doing its job well?”

“Oh!” She flew up, hovering at eye height. “Therings. You seem to be very… Fertile,Northland.”

“Fertile— I don’t understand.”

She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “What’s not tounderstand? You have been given the gift of fertility, and it looks like you’reputting it to good use. Good for you, go Northland. Your husband’s so cute,have I said that? You’re so lucky.”

Something scratched the back of Norway’s mind,something unpleasant. He twisted the golden band around his finger. It seemedheavier. He took it off and looked at it.

“Ya mean th—”

Of course she was gone. Of course.

Norway turned the ring over between hisfingers. Fertility, the queen had said. There didn’t seem to be anything odd ormagical about it, but Norway didn’t know the magic of the fairy folk wellenough. He’d never wanted to meddle with them, so it was better to stay away.

And this was the reason. They meddled. They didnothing but meddle. Why hadn’t he realized something was off?

I don’t usually dothis, Hong Kong hadsaid. And why would he now? Why would he ever fall for Norway, who was so mucholder than him, was unable to undo something as stupid as a magical handfast?

Me neither, Norway had answered. He wasn’t soreckless. He didn’t fall in love with stupid flirting or the way Hong Kong’shair looked or the silent caring or—

Knocking on the bathroom door. “Hey, youalright in there?”

Norway unclenched his fingers and took a deepbreath. It was too good to be true anyway. He knew from experience things likethat didn’t last.

“Norway?”

“I’m fine.” He looked almost perfectly fine, hesaw in the mirror. Hong Kong wouldn’t know.

Leaving the ring on the sink, Norway opened thedoor. His heart clenched when he saw Hong Kong smiling softly.

“Hong Kong, I…” He swallowed. “Give me yourhand? Your right.”

“Why?” Hong Kong asked, even as he did offerNorway his hand. There it was, the golden ring glinting on his ring finger. Norwaybit his lip, sighed, and slid it off.

“What are you doing?” Hong Kong askedcuriously.

“Hong Kong…” Norway put the ring in his pocket,fit his hands around Hong Kong’s jaw and leaned down to kiss him quickly butfirmly. “I think it’s best I go to Oslo alone.”

“What—“

“And maybe ya should go home. I’m sure yourpeople miss ya.” He stood up straight, letting go of his husband.

Grabbing one of Norway’s hands, Hong Kongprotested, “My people are fine without me for a while. What’s up with you? Areyou, like, breaking up with me right now?”

Norway tugged his hand free, balling it into afist. He looked at the ground and nodded.

“Why? I don’t understand, I thought we were,like… Like, I don’t know, having a good time. Is it the being married thing?I’m sure we can just wait to go on a second date until we’re not marriedanymore, or just, like—”

“No, it’s not that,” Norway interrupted.“Listen, I just think this isn’t right.”

“Is it because of the age difference? Because—”

“No, Hong Kong, listen, it’s nothing to do withya. Believe me, it’s better for both of us if we don’t continue this.”

Hong Kong stared up at him disbelievingly, andNorway’s chest felt hollow.

“I’m sorry.”

He turned away and listened to Hong Kong’sfootsteps drag across the hall.

The ringing of his phone was almost impossibleto hear over the loud guitars screeching through the living room, but Norwaymanaged to catch it during a lull in the song. He quickly snapped the music offand looked at the caller ID.

“England, hello.”

“Hello Norway. How are you?”

“Fine,” Norway answered shortly, as if hehadn’t spent the past two days listening to the loudest Viking metal he couldfind in an attempt to drown out the anger he felt towards the whole damn fairycourt for fucking up what could have been a perfectly good friendship andtowards his own inability to have recognized the situation earlier. Most ofall, though, he was trying to drown out the fact that he still thought of HongKong the same way, that he still wanted to be with him, get to know him and beable to kiss him. He hadn’t heard anything from Hong Kong himself at all.

It would be unfair to him to make him think hereturned very real Norway’s feelings, or ever did.

“Alright, wonderful,” England said, soundingslightly dubious. “I’m calling to invite you to the Midsummer celebration at myhouse, tomorrow.”

Norway sighed. He could already taste the magiccrackling in the air, ready to burst come tomorrow. He wanted to go, he lovedMidsummer. But he knew he was still married to Hong Kong. There was no tellingwhat the outcome of the celebration would be on that.

“What do you think?”

“Well… Okay, I’ll come.”

“Great! I will see you tomorrow, then.”

“See ya, England.”

It was a perfect day to celebrate Midsummer,even in England’s house. The sun was setting but it was warm, there was a lightbreeze blowing, the air had a metallic tang that Norway associated with strongmagic. He was starting to relax. It was fine to mope for a few days, it woulddo him no harm, but it felt better to be content with what he did have.

“Norway!” England, not appearing drunk yet,which was unusual. “There you are, just the person I was looking for. I’ve gotnews for you.”

Norway raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. You see, I have found a solution to the,ah, situation, with you and HongKong.” He beamed proudly.

“The… Oh, the… The handfast situation.”

“Yes, of course. Are there other situations Icould be talking about?”

Quickly, Norway shook his head. He didn’t thinkEngland would take kindly to him being outsmarted by the fairy folk. He had alot more experience with them than Norway did.

“Alright, well, my brothers and I found a wayto break a handfast. We’re certain it will work.” He paused, scratching hischin and pursing his lips, which had Norway on edge immediately.

“However,” England continued, “if it doesn’twork for some reason – and it is a very precise incantation – the handfast willbecome absolute and unbreakable for a year.”

“A year,” Norway repeated. A year, in hisperspective, wasn’t long, but he wasn’t sure how it would feel now. To be tiedto Hong Kong for a year would be very, very inconvenient, to say the least.

“Until next Midsummer. It’s the only way. Wehave to do it today. Have you seen Hong Kong?”

Norway tensed. “He’s here?”

“Yes, of course he’s here. I need both of youfor the ceremony.” He narrowed his green eyes at Norway. “What happened to youtwo? I thought you were getting along with each other quite well.”

“We were.”

England made a ‘go-on’ motion. Norway wanted totell him it was none of his business what went down between himself and HongKong, but he also wanted to tell someone, in hopes that what happened wouldstart to sound logical again, because it had lost all meaning to him.

“We were getting along,” he said. “Very well. Ilike Hong Kong, he’s. I don’t know, he’s radiant. But when ya warned us aboutthe fairies? We had already been to the court.”

England hissed in sympathy. “Somethinghappened?”

“In a way. We got gifts from the queen. Goldrings. For fertility.”

With a laugh, England said, “That soundsuseless.”

“Only it wasn’t.” Norway twined his fingerstogether. “We went out, spent time together. I felt like I liked him.”

A pause. Then, “You felt like you liked him,what does that mean, Norway?”

England was the worst person to have to sharethis story with, Norway thought. He watched over Hong Kong like a littlebrother.

“It means I thought I was falling in love withhim,” he said, voice quiet enough that he could barely hear himself.

“But you think you weren’t really,” Englandfinished slowly. “Because the fairy queen gave you gifts for fertility.”

Norway nodded. England shook his head.

“They don’t do that. The fairies are deceptive,I won’t deny that. They’re cunning and they’re sly, but they aren’tmanipulative.” He glanced up, as if the fairies would be swooping down on himfor saying such things about them. They wouldn’t, most likely too busy withtheir own Midsummer celebrations.

“Hold on, what?”

“I’m merely saying that if you really thinkyou’re in love with Hong Kong, then you are. Even the fairy folk cannot imitatethat. The most those rings would have done is make you less inhibited. What did you do to Hong Kong, Norway?”The last part sounded vaguely threatening, inasmuch as anything England saidcould sound threatening these days.

“Are ya sure about this?”

“Yes.I’ve been around for a while, remember. Whatdid you do?”

Norway shook his head. “I fucked up, is what Idid.”

Oh, did he ever fuck up. And the chance hecould make it right… Not big.

“It’s none of my business, but if you’ve hurtHong Kong…”

Norway just shook his head. He had, and he had no idea how to undo it.Hong Kong probably hated him at the moment. It would fade over time, of course,hating someone took a lot of energy, but that didn’t mean what he’d done wouldever be forgotten. He didn’t know if Hong Kong was the forgiving and forgettingsort of person.

“Norway, I’ll help you break the handfast, butanything else is up to you,” England said. “I will go and find Hong Kong. Theceremony has to be done before it turns midnight in Norway, where you werehandfasted, so we’ve got one hour. That should be enough.”

“Okay. What should I—”

“Just wait here. I’ll just be a moment.”

So Norway sat down on the grass and put hischin in his hands, sightlessly staring at the hills surrounding him. Had HongKong purposely been avoiding him at this celebration? There weren’t that manypeople – Norway had seen England’s brothers, some humans, caught a fleetingglimpse of someone he’s quite sure was Canada – so it was hard not to seesomeone. Well, not as if he could blame him. If he’d known Hong Kong was there,he’d have done the same thing.

“Ah, you’re still here, good.” England wasback, looking down on Norway with the last sunrays catching in his wispy hair.“Stand up and we’ll begin.”

Hong Kong was standing a few paces off, lookingat his sneakers. Norway took a deep breath as he climbed to his feet, trying toforce down the hollow feeling in his chest. He hated this. He shouldn’t feel sohelpless, he was over a thousand fucking years old.

“The way this goes is simple for you,” Englandexplained, tugging at Norway’s arm to get him within touching range of HongKong, who still refused to look up. “You only have to stand here and touch thehandfasted hands together. I will be reciting a spell, and when I finish, you must let go of each other’s hands, or itwon’t work.”

“Right,” Hong Kong mumbled.

“How long is the spell?” Norway asked.

Sighing, England pulled out a bound bookcontaining about twenty pages, saying, “I’ll have to read all this. It’s purposefullydesigned to be as difficult as possible so that handfasts won’t be broken.”

It would take at least half an hour to readthat much text, especially magical text, which required clear pronunciation. Itwould be finished only just before Norwegian midnight. No room for error.

“Let’s get started, then,” England said. Hemotioned at Norway and Hong Kong, and Hong Kong grasped Norway’s right handwith his left, still not looking at him. His hair was fiery red in thesunlight, and his hand was warm. Norway couldn’t help but remember thosefingers on his skin, and he shivered.

As England started droning up the spell, whichwas in a language Norway didn’t recognize, and walking in circles around thetwo of them, they stood motionless. Norway could practically feel his hand gettingsweaty, but he couldn’t let go.

“Hong Kong,” he whispered after a while,deciding that if he ever were to explain what happened, now would be theperfect time. Hong Kong, of course, didn’t acknowledge his words. “Please justlook at me.”

“Why would I?” Hong Kong mumbled. His hair wasfalling in his face.

“Because I, I wanna explain to ya why I did…What I did.”

Hong Kong huffed, unimpressed. “There isn’tthat much to explain. You were a dick.”

Norway’s fingers tightened and he could feelthat Hong Kong wanted to jerk his hand free, but he held on.

“I misinterpreted the situation,” Norway tried.Finally, Hong Kong looked up at him, a furious glint in his eyes. Norwayswallowed hard and didn’t allow himself to look away. He deserved that.

“What was there to misinterpret, Norway? It allseemed very, like, clean-cut to me. I thought you liked me!” he whisper-yelled.England’s droning was unfaltering.

“I know. I know.” He took a deep breath. Hisheart beat in his throat. “And I did. I do.”

“So what then? Were you scared or something?”Hong Kong took a step closer to glare up at him. “Honestly, how fucking old areyou?”

He was angry. Norway hated himself for thinkingit was, in a strange way, very attractive on him.

“I wasn’t scared,” he said. “I thought—”

“You thought, but did you look?”

“I thoughtwe were being manipulated,” he snapped. “I didn’t want to do that to ya, let yathink ya were in love with me when ya weren’t, or let myself… Let myself fallin love with someone who didn’t feel that way about me.”

England’s droning had turned into chanting,which perhaps meant he was reaching the end of the incantation; Norway had noidea how long he’d been standing here already, but the sun was gone behind thehorizon and the only gold was in Hong Kong’s narrowed eyes.

“Manipulated by what? This?” He shook theirjoined hands.

“No, the—”

“Those rings,” Hong Kong breathed, eyes goingwide. “Those rings we got from the fairy queen, isn’t it? You think they mademe feel something I didn’t.”

Once again, he was proving himself smarter thanNorway himself. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

Norway shrugged, and Hong Kong huffed.

“They aren’t magic, though?” His voice was low.Norway had to step closer just to hear him, pressing their hands between theirbodies.

“Not like that.” He laced his fingers throughHong Kong’s, trying to stop them from shaking. “I know I fucked up, I just hopeya can forgive that. We could be friends.”

Hong Kong’s eyes flitted over Norway’s facesilently.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered. “I can’tbelieve you’re a thousand years old.”

“Hey,”Norway started, slightly indignant. Hong Kong smiled, and he fell silent, revelingin the expression.

England’s chanting turned into shouting, andthen he was yelling, “Let go now!”

But Hong Kong was tugging on Norway’s hand, thefingers of his free one tangling in his hair and pulling him down into acrushing kiss, pressing them bodily together. The sting of magic ran throughNorway’s body, blossoming from his right palm, but all that mattered was HongKong’s lips yielding to his, his soft hair slipping through Norway’s fingers.When they eventually let go of each other’s hands, it was only to grasp atclothes, Hong Kong scrabbling at Norway’s back.

They were out of breath when they parted atlast. Hong Kong hid his face in Norway’s collar, pressing his palms against hischest. Norway bit his lips to keep a grin down and looked over at England, whothrew his hands up in the air and was shaking his head in exasperation.

“Now you’re stillmarried!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t mind,” Hong Kong mumbled, looking overhis shoulder. He was flushed. Norway wanted to kiss him again. “He’s reallyquite a good husband. I’m fine with spending a year with him.”

Norway hid a smile in the man’s hair whileEngland walked away, still shaking his head.

“Good to know my family likes you,” Hong Kongsaid. Norway huffed.