OKAY WOO UM. Yeah, this is like, my first proper fic with chapters that actually relate to one another. Usually I get bored of writing the same story, but I'll try to finish this one.

So, it is mainly about Norway, and the storyline is hella random, buttttttt I started writing it like a month ago, and it's kinda fun.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Chapter One: First Encounter

Norway sighed. He was here for another day. Ready to slave away serving people with enough money for a meal out for eight hours. It wasn't fair, and he hated that aspect of his job. Sure, the customers were friendly enough, and some of them even knew him, but there was always that twinge of superiority over him. They were the high and mighty customers; he was just the person who delivered their food. But he had to work if he ever wanted to get out of here. That was another part that he didn't like to think about, on the wages he was on at the moment, he only had enough to live week-by-week, supporting him and his brother, and not enough to save. So he just had to get through it each day.

He hung up his things in the locker room and tied his apron around his waist, getting ready to start carrying food around. He smoothed out a crinkle in his clothing and shut the locker door.

"Hi, Norway! I didn't see you come in." Tino – one of his co-workers – looked up and said when he heard his door bang shut.

"Oh, I just got here," He answered.

Tino crossed the floor and took a seat on the bench near Norway's locker. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, and yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm good," He replied, smiling, and then his face fell slightly. "You don't look that fine, in fact, you look kind of tired."

Norway shrugged his shoulders, "I am tired, but I'm okay, seriously."

His expression was full of concern, "I'll take your word for it, but just look after yourself, okay? I don't want you to get hurt or anything."

"Don't worry, I'll be alright, I've been doing this for years, remember?"

Tino laughed, "Yeah, I know. You should be a pro by now,"

"Oh, I am, alright," He said, chuckling himself. "But the boss doesn't recognize that and I'm still stuck on fifteen-dollars-an-hour," He added with a mumble. Norway and his boss had a sort of…rivalry going on. That wasn't really the right way to describe it, but the boss was always watching him and waiting for him to slip up so he could reprimand him. Just because I'm a teenager, Norway thought.

Tino stood up, "Well, the shift is about to start, so we best get out there," Norway nodded, and together the exited the locker room to face another boring day.

He had watched the blonde guy walk in, and took an automatic dislike to him. He didn't know whether it was the way he walked, the way he slouched slightly, and seemed to almost strut. It's as if he thinks everyone in the café wants him, He thought bitterly. Or if it was the way he held his head up high and looked down his nose at everyone around him. Everything about him seemed to annoy Norway for some reason, and he hadn't even heard him speak yet.

He followed him with his eyes as he was lead to a table and scanned the menu. He was ready to looked around for the other servers, but came up empty. He was the only one free at the moment. Balling his fists up and sighing angrily, he walked over to him. "What do you want to order?" He snapped.

"I need your opinion, does this taste good?" He answered, looking up at Norway expectantly while pointing to something random on the menu. He was right about his voice; it matched his walk and mannerisms perfectly.

"I don't know, I only work here," He replied curtly. No matter how tired or impatient he was, he always made sure he was kind and friendly to a customer, that was his rule, but he didn't care about breaking it this time. This guy was just too much of an asshole.

"Well, I don't think I'll order that anyway," He made a face at the piece of card. "I'm Denmark, nice to meet you,"

Not nice to meet you, Norway thought, "Are you always this forward to people you meet?" He said instead.

Denmark just grinned, seemingly oblivious to his distaste, "Just trying to be friendly." He shrugged his shoulders. "Now, I introduced myself, who are you?"

"I'm your server. Are you ready to order yet?"

The Dane thought for a moment, and then nodded, "Yeah, I'll have this," He pointed to something on the menu and Norway scribbled it down onto his pad. "Wait…" It took all of Norway's self control to not punch him right then and there. "Tell me your name, or I'll change my order."

Norway snarled under his breath at him, "It's Norway! There! Are you happy?" He yelled at him before storming off into the kitchen.

"Norway!" Tino came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. He had been witness to the whole spectacle. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," He put down his things to massage his temples, "That guy over there is a jerk, though."

"Aw, what did he do?"

He sighed, and just shook his head. Tino shrugged his shoulders sympathetically. He picked the little slip of paper with the order back up and placed it in the kitchen. He almost didn't want to process his order, but he would be in strife if he didn't. He sighed, exhausted, oh, would this shift never end?

"Ice, I'm back," He announced as he waltzed through the apartment door. He could hear his brother in the lounge room, so that's where he headed.

"Hi, Norway. How was work?" Iceland asked, watching as his brother entered the room.

"It was fine," He replied, collapsing onto the couch. He would tell his brother about Denmark later, when they had time. Actually, they had plenty of time, but Norway just didn't want to talk about him, it would frustrate him, and then he'd be all tense and in a bad mood for work.

"I've got my shift in about twenty minutes," Iceland remarked, he looked Norway up and down and shook his head, assessing the tiredness.

Norway sighed, "I'm sorry you have to work, brother, I know you have a lot of stuff going on at school that is really important,"

"No, no, it's more important that I work, we need the income. But, you know I could always drop out like you and take another job." He suggesting, shrugging his shoulders.

"Don't ever consider that," Norway replied, "Your education is too important, you can get a proper job through it, you know that."

Iceland sighed, "Yeah, I know. But if I take another job, we'll live a little more comfortably now, and that's good too, right?"

"Yeah…that would be good," He mumbled and then straightened up, "But we're getting by now. In a year, you can go to university, and things will get better."

"I guess so," He stood up and grabbed his bag from the armchair table. "I have to go now, though. I'll see you later, have fun at work." Norway rolled his eyes, and lay down on the couch. He might as well try and relax until his shift at eight.

Norway opened his eyes and sat up. He strained to see the clock, it read seven-thirty. Shit. He was supposed to be there in half and hour. He wasn't even in his uniform or anything, and it took at least twenty minutes to get there. He was usually so good with time and deadlines and whatnot. Maybe he was more tired than usual? He couldn't tell. He jumped up from the couch and ran around, throwing his uniform on and grabbing his things together before jumping into the car.

"Sorry I'm late," He mumbled to his supervisor who had watched him rush into the pub with a bemused expression. She shook her head, smiling and turned back to a customer. She knew what he had to do, and because of that, cut him some slack. There was someone sitting at the bar, watching expectantly and ready for his order to be taken. He sighed, and put on his customer service face, "Hi, how may I help you?"

This job wasn't much better than the other one. In fact, it was probably worse. He had to deal with drunken brawls, drunken talk, drunken behaviour, and just drunk people, period. He was used to it, though, and he knew how to deal with it, and as long as he stayed behind the counter he was alright. It was always a relief when the shift finished, though.

"Gin and tonic, please," Norway knew that voice. He had heard it recently. It was one of those voices that as soon as your hear it, it immediately infuriates you, you know? Whoever it was was rude as well, just demanding a drink like that even though he was clearly serving someone else.

"That's six-dollars-forty," He answered, turning around. Oh God. Of course it was. Of course it was him. A scowl took the place of Norway's previously friendly face, and a grin was on Denmark's.

"Hey, Nor! I didn't know you worked here!"

"Here's your drink," He handed him the glass and turned to the shelf so his back was facing Denmark.

"Why do you work here too? You already have a job." He was insistent, wasn't he? Didn't he realize that Norway didn't want to talk to him?

"Maybe I need the money," He shot back, still not turning around. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am supposed to be working, not talking."

"Well, I'll wait here until your break, then we can have a chat," He suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'd rather jump in front of a bus," He mumbled, before turning to another customer. There were a few more protests from Denmark, which Norway promptly ignored. He took his things down to the other end of the bar so Denmark couldn't bother him. The Dane couldn't come and sit down there anyway, it was already full. Norway felt himself watching the clock, and as soon as it hit one, he grabbed his things and was out of there.