A/N: DenNor!
Norway was sitting down, reading a book in his living room, content to have a night by himself. He'd long ago learned to appreciate them, for they were few and far between, and often, they would get interrupted by his boss, or his brother, or—
"Norge!"
Denmark, a very drunken Denmark, at that.
Norway sighed and put his book down on the coffee table. Visits from a completely wasted Denmark happened around every other week, but of course, that was on average. Sometimes, he wouldn't come for weeks. Sometimes, Norway had the immense pleasure of his visits every day.
"Nooorgee, are you hooome?" Yep, that slur was unmistakable.
Norway rested his hand on the door handle for a moment before opening it. He sighed again, trying to prepare himself for what would inevitably ensue. The unrelenting pounding from the other side made that extremely difficult. Deciding to just get it over with, Norway threw the door open.
Denmark stumbled in.
"Norge, did you know that your mailbox is a total douche-bag?"
"I—"
"He was looking at me funny. I wouldn't trust him if I were you," Denmark concluded, cutting off Norway.
Norway waited to be sure Denmark was finished before saying, "No, I was not aware of that fact, Denmark. Thank you for so eloquently telling me this vital information. I'll have it looked into first thing tomorrow."
Denmark looked like he was about to say something else, but he stopped himself in favor of staring at Norway in a peculiar manner. "You know, you're really pretty," he said after a brief silence.
Norway bit his lip; so it was this kind of drunken Denmark. He tried to remember where he kept his spare blankets.
Norway turned away when he saw Denmark reach out, as if to touch his cheek. "Do you want some tea or something before you crash on my couch?"
"I—" Denmark paused to consider, "Will you sit with me?"
Norway glanced back at the desperate, pleading look on Denmark's face and found that he couldn't refuse. "Sure."
"Yay!" Denmark nearly squealed and threw an arm around Norway, which, unfortunately, resulted in the both of them almost tumbling to the ground since Denmark was considerably larger than Norway. His sense of balance wasn't exactly at a high point.
Norway ended up navigating the both of them towards the couch he'd been sitting on earlier, not really listening to Denmark's drunken rant about how France had molested England or how Prussia had gotten the lot of them thrown out of the bar by trying to take off all of his clothes. He sat Denmark down and settled himself next to the intoxicated nation, prepared to wait until he was unconscious before heading to sleep himself.
After a few minutes, Norway was so caught up in reading his book and pointedly ignoring the Dane's ramblings, he almost didn't notice Denmark stop talking; however, when the random stream of chatter stopped from beside him, he turned to see a calculating expression on Denmark's face.
"You know, I love you," Denmark said. The slur made the words lose some impact, but the force of them was about the same.
"…Yes," Norway responded after a pause, looking down. "Yes, I know."
"I love the way you talk, and the way you look so indifferent all the time, and I love it when you throw me out of your house because I'm so drunk, and I love it when you let me stay. I love it when you pretend you're not paying attention when you really are, and when you have those impossible eye-conversations with Ice, and when you have a really awesome idea at a meeting, and…"
Norway almost started when he noticed an unfamiliar glistening in Denmark's eyes. Tears. Denmark was crying.
"And I love how you never want to see me, and I love how you always tell me what an idiot I am, and...and, and I love how you, you—Nor, I love you so goddamn much!" Denmark finished rather loudly, breaking down entirely into sods.
Norway bit his lip again as Denmark clutched the front of his shirt, crying into his chest. He ran his fingers through Denmark's hair in an attempt to calm down the weeping Nordic.
"Shh, I know, Denmark. I know."
When the crying finally subsided and a soft snoring sound came from the older nation, Norway carefully laid Denmark down on the couch while trying to squeeze out from underneath him. He went to get a blanket from the hallway closet, wondering exactly how drunken Denmark had gotten and whether he be able to remember this tomorrow. He always acted like nothing had happened in the morning, so it would be nearly impossible to tell, anyway.
Norway returned to the couch and gently placed the blanket on top of Denmark, pointedly looking away from his tear-stained face. As he made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom, he glanced back at the sleeping nation before he turned off the lights.
"I'm sorry, Danmark."
A/N: I tried to listed to really depressing songs while writing them, but I think I failed since there was a Hannah Montana song on my playlist. Hahahahaha.