I'm back with another DenmarkxNorway fic (although it can also be seen as friendship, I suppose, depending on your preferences ^^) It ended up... really long! And it was extremely enjoyable to write~

This story is dedicated to Mikanimakan, for requesting and giving me the inspiration and plot-ideas I needed to write this! It can be considered a sequel to my other story, "Fire drop", although it's not necessary to read that fic to understand this ^^ (Please feel free to check it out anyway, though~)

Thank you, Mikanimakan, this is for you~!

I hope you all will enjoy the angstyness and the fluffiness!

oOo

Norway couldn't explain why he felt so uneasy all of the sudden. He'd been making himself a cup of hot chocolate when it began, and even now, hours later, the feeling had only grown stronger. He wasn't usually one to ignore such signs, as he'd always taken them seriously. However, there was little he could do at the moment. He'd double checked that everything was fine throughout his nation, and then checked one more time, just to be on the safe side. But things seemed generally calm and peaceful throughout his lands, with people preparing for Christmas.

Sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time in just the last hour, he let his fingers dance across the old organ standing in his living room. The melancholy, strong sound fluttered through the air, easing his worries a little. Music tended to have that effect on him, and while he'd usually prefer his old violin, the sorrowful tunes of the organ fit his mood better at the moment.

He was well into the second verse of "Silent night" when the phone rang on the wall. Most of the time, he greatly disliked being interrupted while playing, but combined with his high-strung nerves, the sound seemed too alarming for him to grow annoyed. Standing from his position, he walked over to the phone on the wall in a few, long steps.

"Yes?" he managed to keep his voice as calm and neutral as usual, careful not to let his mask slip. There was an uneasy silence on the other end, as he heard someone breathe quite heavily. A slight frown settled on his pale face. "Hello?" he asked again. This time his voice was notably more chilly as he wondered if this was some sort of stupid prank call – or perhaps a pervert, what with the panting and everything...

"N-Norge...?" he heard eventually, and his frown deepened, although this time out of concern rather than irritation. That voice was not supposed to sound like this, and it immediately caused alarm bells to go off in his mind.

"Danmark?" he replied, his voice equally questioning. There was no reply at first, then he heard several gasps, only broken slightly by a strangled sob. "Danmark, what's going on?"

"Nor...ge... I don't... feel too well..." came the quiet reply, and Norway had to struggle to keep calm. His friend didn't sound too well either. In fact, he sounded thoroughly shaken and ill. Fuck, was this what his intuition had been trying to tell him?

"I'm coming over," Norway said shortly, but got no reply. Quickly putting the phone back in place, he marched out into the hallway, putting on a winter coat, scarf and a woollen hat, before fastening his shoes and running out towards the shed. There, he quickly fetched his skis and, as an afterthought, pulled up his goggles from the pocket of his jacket, fastening them securely before his eyes to avoid the steadily falling snow and the biting winds.

It was quite dark, but he needed no more light than the faint light of the moon and stars could give him, knowing the territory like the back of his own hand. The trip to Denmark's house didn't take long at his speed, and soon he slid to a halt next to the Dane's house, unfastening his skis and putting them up against the wall by the front stairs, where the wind wouldn't get to them.

Leaping up the stairs, he hoped for the Dane's sake – and the sake of the poor fox he'd nearly run over up in the forest – that this wasn't just a bad joke. Somehow, however, this being a joke would certainly be preferable to the scenarios he'd started imagining on the trip.

Knocking on the door rapidly, he waited anxiously. He was about to knock again when the door suddenly opened, slowly. Norway couldn't help the fact that his eyes widened slightly behind the goggles he had yet to remove.

Denmark was pale, shadows lingering below his strangely glassy eyes, and a feverish tint touching his cheeks as cold sweat made its way down his face along with tears. He gave a small, broken smile, and his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke.

"You came..."

"Dan-" Norway was cut off and gave a startled gasp as the other suddenly stumbled and fell forward. Norway caught him, and upon finding that the Dane was unable to stand on his feet, picked him up into his arms with strength few would believe him to possess, upon seeing his lithe frame.

He didn't care that the snow on his clothes and shoes left a trail of water behind them, as he made his way to the living room and put the other down on the couch. Once he'd done that, he quickly pulled off his outer clothing, and left them by the door to put them away later. He crouched next to the couch, face serious as he took in his friend's appearance.

A groan of pain broke the silence and he looked down to see Denmark open his eyes. The other glanced around wildly, before turning abruptly and throwing up over the edge of the couch, thankfully into a waste basket that had been put there earlier. Only now did Norway notice that it had been used before. The frown deepened as he rubbed the other's back automatically.

Denmark breathed harshly, spitting into the bucket before blinking through his tears. Norway stood, and upon seeing his friend's slight panic, gave a small, reassuring squeeze of the other's hand.

"I'm just going to fetch you a glass of water, Danmark," he said calmly, heading to the kitchen. He felt far from as calm as he seemed, thoughts swirling through his mind at a dizzying speed. Was this just a simple flu? Or was there something wrong with his friend's economy or something?

Filling a glass of water, he promptly dropped it, making it shatter against the floor tiles, as a piercing cry cut through the air. His blood ran cold and he darted back into the living room, where he found Denmark curled up in a clenched, tense position, face ashen and contorted in pain.

"Danmark? Danmark, speak to me. Where does it hurt?" Norway asked. His friend only sobbed weakly, shaking his head as he struggled to breathe. His hands were clutching at his stomach area.

"H-hurts...!" Denmark eventually gasped out, but seemed to calm down slightly again, albeit still breathing harshly. Norway glanced at him worriedly, before running over to the phone, dialling the number of his friend's boss. The conversation was difficult, as the line was acting up, probably due to the steadily rising snow storm outside. Still, the results were troubling.

Denmark's economy was fine, and so was every aspect of his nation at the moment. Norway felt cold at this, and didn't have time to reply to the concerned question of Denmark's well-being, before the line abruptly died, leaving the room completely silent except from the shallow breathing of the limp nation on the couch.

Norway clenched the phone in his hand before putting it back. If there was nothing wrong with him as a nation, this suddenly was an entirely different situation. That meant that this illness was something that affected Denmark as a living being; as a man. And that was by far more unsettling than slight economical problems. Of course, even nations grew ill at times, and while it was assumed that human illnesses wouldn't kill them, that did nothing to ease Norway's tension. As mentioned, it was only an assumption – as no one had ever died, proving it wrong.

A series of colourful Danish profanities made him rush over to the couch again, taking Denmark's hand, and nearly flinching at how cold and clammy it felt.

"Danmark, are you awake?" he asked urgently, yet doing his best to keep his voice calm. The other opened his eyes, blinking unfocusedly.

"N-Norge...? What are you doing here?" he asked in confusion, and Norway's frown deepened.

"You called, Danmark... don't you remember?"

"Oh..." he said nothing more, as he suddenly trembled, gasping in pain. "God, it h-hurts..." Norway swallowed heavily.

"I need you to remove your hands from your stomach for a moment, Danmark," he said slowly, and the Dane hesitated before removing them. Norway put his hands on his stomach, feeling the rigid tenseness. He pushed various points until he reached the lower right side. He pressed gently yet firmly, and Denmark gave a small, pained frown. When Norway removed his hands however, he gave a strangled cry of agony, which sent shivers down Norway's spine. Oh God, not that... not now!

His gaze flickered to the window, where he could see the flurry of snow. Running over to the phone he found it to be dead still. He picked up a radio on his way back to the couch, turning it on and struggling for a while until he found a somewhat coherent frequency. Listening intently, he caught glimpses of what he'd feared.

Roads blocked. Snow causing major traffic problems. Unsafe.

Fuck.

"Danmark?" his heart nearly stopped as he noticed the way his friends seemed to have lost consciousness. Deciding, he stood and before long he'd found several layers of winter clothing, thankful that the Dane was passed out, and thus spared the pain, as he dressed him quickly. Putting on his own gear, he clenched his teeth firmly, walking over to the couch and hoisting his friend up on his back. Denmark only gave a small, vague groan between gasps for air.

The chilly December winds hit his face harshly as he headed out and closed the door behind him. Taking the steps in a few strides, he found his skis and fastened them on his feet with some trouble, careful that the limp form on his back wouldn't fall off.

"Hang on, Danmark. I'm getting you to the hospital." His light blue eyes narrowed behind his goggles with determination. "I promise," he added. It was more an extra reminder for himself than an actual reassuring comment for his friend – if he promised something, he would go through with it, or die trying. Norway was a man of his word. There was no going back now.

The ride through the storm would have been impossible, had he not known exactly where he was going and how to counter the weather. Even so, it wasn't easy. Several times, he would be put out of balance by the extra weight on his back, and the fact that he couldn't use his arms to balance, as they were used to support the Dane. Fear and frustration ate at his heart, and although he loathed having to admit it, he was growing weary of the struggle.

"Fuck this... I'm Norway, damn it... I was born with... fucking skis on my feet!" he bit out through clenched teeth, releasing a steam of frosty breath in the process. Although the saying wasn't true in a literal sense, it was a fact that he'd countered storms this way, ever since he first came to exist.

It was apparent that cursing at himself wasn't enough, however, and he yelped as he stumbled and fell. The cold snow embraced him and he felt his foot twist awkwardly where it was fastened to his ski.

"No... no, no, no..." he gasped out, struggling to get up and seeing that Denmark was even paler now, almost matching the snow surrounding him. His lips were parted ever so slightly and for a moment, Norway was terrified that he'd stopped breathing entirely. Leaning down, he battled the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, as he listened desperately for any signs of life.

There! It was weak, but he was still breathing. Norway bit his teeth, and pulled himself up, wincing as his ankle complained. He didn't have time to think about it, however, bending down and pulling the other back onto his back with a cry of frustration and exhaustion. Then he moved on his way, praying that they would reach the hospital soon.

It seemed hopeless – his ankle was throbbing, causing every movement to be a major effort, and his vision was blurring both from tears and weariness. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath.

"Silent night!" he sung out, the tunes coming across as false and harsh, and causing a couple of birds to take flight towards the sky. "Holy night...!" Forcing down a sob, his voice softened into a more pleading, desperate sound. "All is calm... all is bright..." it gave him the distraction he needed to move on, despite the fact that the verse ended with "sleep in heavenly peace".

Continuing onto the other verses, he felt tears run down his cheeks in streams, making the goggles foggy. Thank goodness, he could see lights in the distance, and knew that it was the hospital. Glancing up at the sky, where one lone star shone brightly, directly over the roof of the building, he couldn't help but be reminded of Christmas being a time for miracles.

"Thank you..." he whispered brokenly, to no-one in particular, or perhaps to God, before taking a deep breath and set out down the last slope down to the hospital. Of course, steering wasn't all that easy without use of his arms, and especially when one foot was aching with every movement. He neared the end of the slope – which was steeper than he had foreseen, but his speed didn't slow. With a small yelp, he had to steer around a thoroughly startled couple, clenching his teeth as he tried his best to stop. His skis were skidding across the snow, and he felt a pang of panic as they neared the hospital at too high a speed. More precisely; the brick wall of the hospital. Crap...

There was only one thing to do, and Norway guiltily let the other drop into the snow behind him, before skidding onto the snow-less parts of the concrete, skis halting much too abruptly, and promptly throwing him forward into the wall with a sickening crash. He slumped to the ground, stars exploding behind his eyes. That crash didn't sound too healthy, but he couldn't feel any pain at the moment.

"Oh my God! Are you all right?" he heard footsteps approaching quickly, and gave a groan where he lay in a heap of broken skis, broken goggles – and possibly broken bones. He opened his mouth several times, unable to get out any words at first. Then he gestured wildly towards his companion, who was still lying unmoving in the snow behind him. His insides twisted at the sight of him, and for a moment he felt completely helpless.

"A-Appendicitis... help... him... Å Gud, ikke la ham dø...!" with that, he gave a choked sob and his world collapsed into a numbing darkness

oOo

Blinking, Norway came to his senses, looking up into a white, neutral roof. At first he was thoroughly confused. This wasn't his room... where was he, and... why? The realization struck him like a bullet, and he shot up in his bed, hearing a startled squeak from next to him. The sudden sound gave him quite a shock, and before he really knew what happened, he'd shied away from the sound and promptly fallen off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud that made his already aching limbs complain.

"Oh my God, sir, are you all right?" the nurse he'd startled exclaimed in broad Danish and came around the bed, looking positively shaken. He was on his feet quickly, looking around and hastily analysing his situation. He was still dressed in his own clothes, although his outer clothes had been removed and were resting on a chair next to the bed. The clock on the wall showed him he'd been out for at least a good couple of hours.

Turning towards the nurse, he didn't care less that he'd forgotten to put on the neutral, chilly mask he usually hid behind. Nor did he care that his body had started protesting wildly against the abuse of standing upright.

"The man I was with, how is he?" he demanded, and felt slightly guilty as she jumped at his urgent tone.

"Oh, uh..." she got a more solemn expression. "He did indeed have appendicitis, sir. If you'd gotten him here any later, it would have been too late. His heart stopped during the surgery, but the doctors managed to stabilize him. It's nothing short but a miracle, but he's going to survive," she smiled. Norway stared at her, feeling shaky.

To his great frustration, tears burned in his eyes, and the nurse looked at him sympathetically.

"How are you feeling, sir...? The people that brought you in told us you had quite the collision with the wall... The doctor said nothing was broken, but you have a couple of bruised ribs and a mildly sprained ankle. You're going to be sore for quite a while..." she blinked and Norway followed her eyes down to his ankle. As on cue, it gave away and he blinked as he barely managed to catch himself on the window sill, cursing mildly under his breath as pain erupted up his leg and then spread throughout his body.

It had its advantages not to be completely human – that collision would most likely have broken his bones and fractured his skull, had he been human – but that didn't mean that they were unable to be injured.

"It's really quite a shock that you're not worse for wear. Christmas really is a time for miracles, isn't it?" the nurse said, as she helped support Norway over to the bed again, where he sat down reluctantly, only to glance urgently up at her.

"Can you take me to him?" he asked, and she looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she smiled sympathetically at the concerned expression he wore, knowing she wouldn't be able to hold him back even if she did say no.

"I'll get you a wheelchair and-"

"No. Crutches will do fine," Norway cut her off. Sure, he might be sore, but there was no way he'd reduce himself to be some crippling in a wheelchair – no offence to those in wheelchair, of course.

"Oh, are you sure?" Norway just gave her a meaningful look. "Ok, I'll get you a pair of crutches and some painkillers then, sir, just hold on for a few minutes, all right?" Norway nodded and she hurried off. As she did, thoughts swirled through his mind, efficiently blocking away the ache in his limbs. She had said Denmark would survive. He would live. Norway hadn't been too late, like he'd feared.

The thought made him want to jump up and dance, though of course that would be impossible in his current condition – and not to mention embarrassing. His eyes trailed to the window, where the storm seemed to have stilled now – oh, the irony... – and up at the stars twinkling brightly back at him, as if nothing had ever disturbed the peace.

"He's still unconscious, but he should be awake before long. As long as you don't upset him, I believe it will be fine. Visiting hours are over, but let's make an exception for tonight." He blinked out of his thoughts as a glass of water and a couple of pills were held in front of him. He accepted them with a thankful nod, not waiting for them to take affect before standing, leaning quite heavily on his crutches. Norway gave a tiny, appreciative smile, to which the nurse blushed slightly.

She led him down the hallway until they reached Denmark's room. Before she opened the door, however, she turned to Norway.

"Please remember to fill out the paper work sometime before you leave, all right? You both should be able to leave by tomorrow, but only time will tell. Notify us if his condition changes." And with that she smiled and left.

Norway hesitated ever so slightly before opening the door and limping in as quietly as the crutches would allow him. The room was dim-lit, and he swallowed as he headed over to the bed, pulling a chair over to sit next to it. Denmark did indeed look better now, although he was still pale. Giving a sigh of relief, Norway reached out and took his friend's hand in his own.

"God, Danmark... you mustn't scare me like that," he whispered, listening to the Dane's soft, even breathing. A soft moan followed the sentence and he blinked as he looked up, meeting with a pair of unfocused, blue eyes.

Denmark opened his mouth to speak, but could only make a few croaked sounds. For once, Norway didn't appreciate the silence – which was really quite a rare thing when he was with his friend – and fetched a glass of water from the nightstand, helping the other take a few sips.

"Did... did I just hear the stoic, unfazed Norge admit... that he was scared?" he asked quietly, with a small, lopsided smile, but he sounded more surprised and wondering than actually teasing.

Norway opened his mouth to automatically retort that no, Denmark's ears must have fooled him... but he couldn't get a word out. His throat had decided to clench with emotion, as he eyed his pale friend.

"W-whoa... I was just... I was just kidding, Nor," came the slightly startled murmur, and Norway realized he was crying again. Damn it...

"You fucking ass! You foolish, stupid..." his voice broke and he forced himself to take a deep breath as his bruised chest region complained. He didn't even know why he suddenly lashed out at the other, though Denmark didn't seem to mind this at the moment.

"Norge, what... what happened?" the Dane whispered after a few moments of strained silence, only broken by Norway's stifled hiccups. Norway could tell that he was both shocked and worried at seeing him losing his composure like this.

"You had appendicitis, Danmark! Fuck, and in the middle of the storm... should have known... almost too late...!" he wasn't even making sense anymore; he could tell the Dane was confused. But then, the first part seemed to reach his brain and Danmark halted the confused question he was about the utter.

"Appendicitis...?" he asked instead, biting his lip, as he knew very well how dangerous that could be. "But why are you so... beaten up...?" he glanced at Norway's crutches and bandages, obviously unable to see the connection, which, in truth, wasn't all that strange.

"Well, I had to get you to a hospital, didn't I?" Norway snapped. He wasn't angry, not with the Dane at least, but his nerves were high-strung, his body was aching, relief flooded his senses, and all in all, he felt overwhelmed by emotion and vulnerable. He wasn't used to that, and thus, it was easier to react with a harsh defence mechanism.

"How? By throwing yourself off a cliff?" Denmark replied incredulously, voice still soft-spoken and slightly weak. Norway only gave him a mild glare, although its effect was killed by the tears staining his flushed cheeks.

"The roads were blocked by the s-storm..." he began, but Denmark had suddenly seen the connection. Norway had probably come over using his skis – he could vaguely remember him wearing skiing shoes and goggles... He might be a bit of a simpleton at times, but even he could put two and two together.

"Holy Jesus, Nor, you skied us all the way to the fucking hospital?" he exclaimed, wincing as the effort made his tired body complain. Norway shrugged, and that was answer enough. "Jesus..." he repeated.

Norway felt highly uncomfortable under the Dane's disbelieving, shocked gaze, and looked away, trying to dry his tears.

"You have got to be... the bravest God-damn person I have ever had the honour to know!" he suddenly heard, and blinked, glancing back at Denmark with shock. The Dane was grinning widely, and to add to Norway's initial shock, tears collected in Denmark's eyes as well. "You probably... saved my life, Nor! And I know I seem really un-cool for weeping for such a stupid reason, but... thank you!"

Norway stared at him, but a sudden urge made him stand and before he knew what he was doing, he had embraced the other nation, half sitting, half lying at the side of his bed and ignoring his protesting body.

"I though... I thought I was too late... I thought you would..." he broke off in a string of profanities in his melodic Norwegian dialect, and felt Denmark hug him back with a sound that was a mix between a chuckle and a sob.

After a few moments, the two broke apart, although Norway still sat on the edge of the bed, blushing profusely at his own lack of composure. Denmark was red-cheeked too, but it seemed to be mostly due to happiness and relief, not as much due to the fact that the two grown men had just been clinging to each other almost desperately.

"It has been more than enough near-death-incidents for this year," Norway muttered quietly as he brushed away tears with his bandaged hand, referring to the fire-incident earlier that year, when the two had found themselves in a similarly touchy-feely situation. Although at that time, the roles had been reversed; Norway being the one in need of saving.

"Guess we're even now, eh?" Denmark smiled, although he nodded in tired agreement to Norway's statement.

Norway didn't reply, and silence spread across the room again, although it was a comfortable silence this time, as both men collected themselves somewhat. Glancing out the window, Norway couldn't help but smile softly as he saw the green and blue hues of the northern light dance across the now nearly cloud-less, dark sky like a beautiful ribbon. Such a stark contrast to the previous storm.

A small tug startled him and before he realized what was going on, he was lying next to the Dane, who seemed to have shifted over to make room for him. Blinking and blushing slightly, he glanced at his side to see Denmark giving a small smile, and promptly slipping into a blissful sleep. His pride, combined with old habit, made him want to stand and sit back into the chair next to the bed, but a glance at Denmark's hand, holding his own gently, made him relax his tense position. Shifting slightly, so that he was more comfortable, he sighed softly and decided to discard masks and pretences, just for tonight.

And with a small yawn, he leaned into his friend's warmth, his eyes eying the impressive display of light on the night sky, until sleep pulled him into its comforting embrace.

oOo

I really hope you liked it! If you could leave me a review telling me what you thought of it, that will be greatly appreciated, thank you!

Translations:

Danmark: the Norwegian equivalent of Denmark (though you probably know that)

Norge: The Norwegian/Danish equivalent of Norway

Å Gud, ikke la ham dø: Oh God, don't let him die (isn't that just heart-wrenching~?)

(Also; I'm not a doctor, so I hope there aren't any huge flaws in this story... ^^)