Yes, I spell magick and behaviour this way. Which means that, no, they are not typos.

Disclaimer: Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya

Warnings: Enough fluff to make you puke.

Notes: Consider this an apology for not having updating anything for... I don't even know how long. Months? Something like that. Anyway, this is an apology fic for not having updated and a thank you to one absolutely darling reviewer who said in her review of my Hetalia Beauty & the Beast story that she checks everyday to see if it's updated ;w; She has no idea how good that made me feel. And if you read this, darling reviewer, I THANK YOU. I READ YOUR REVIEW, I JUST HAVEN'T GOTTEN TO REPLYING TO IT OR UPDATING THE FIC. I shall press on with that fic soon. The problem is that I had the next chapter written out, but I lost the notebook it was written in. (Yes, I write in notebooks first, then type ;3; ) So, I have to re-write it and the next chapter after that. AND THEN I will update.

"Psssst."

Cobalt eyes blinked wearily open as the flaxen-haired male lay in his bed, mentally cursing the nuisance in his house. Maybe if I just lie here and pretend to be asleep, he'll go away, he thought to himself.

"Pssst! Hej! Psst, Noooorge!"

Nei. I was wrong.

"What, Danmark?" The other snapped, turning around to face the annoying man peeking over the edge of his bed like a child.

"What, is so verily important that you have to break into my home and wake me up to tell it to me?" Norway glared.

"Well," Denmark dragged out the "l" sound with a cheeky smile. "I was thinking..."

"Don't hurt yourself," the blank-eyed nation muttered.

"I was thinking we could do something together!"

The other raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Why on Earth did you have to wake me up at..." He check his bedside alarm clock. "...2:03, in the morning for that?"

"But, Norge! It's been forever since we've done anything together, or even hung out!"

"I see you virtually every day, idiot. Not of my own accord, of course."

"Anyway, since I can tell you're totally on board with this, I was thinking we could get something to drink." Denmark had, at some point, made his way onto the bed and was sitting in close proximity to his so-called "best friend".

"I'm not getting out of bed to go drinking, fool. And get off my bed."

Now, the boisterous and clearly wide-awake blond man was pulling at Norway's resisting arm. "We could just hang out at home, y'know. Have some quality brother time. After all, I am the King and besides, Norway, wouldn't you want some of my awesomeness to rub off on you?"

"No." Norway wrenched his arm out of the the other's grasp with surprising strength. Norway was used to Denmark's treatment of him, however, and knew how to deal with it. "Now get out." That is, with blunt words and violence or magick, if necessary.

"I swear, Denmark, if you don't get out, I'm going to- Ouf! Danmark! Let me down." He growled, as his flamboyantly energetic friend lifted him up out of the bed—pajamas, sheets, and all—hoisted him over his shoulder, and carried him down the stairs. The shorter, thinner blonde pounded on the other's back the whole way down and into the kitchen. When they got there, Denmark sat Norway down on a chair and started rummaging through the fridge.

"What, pray-tell, are you doing now?"

"Wow, you're really talkative today, Norway!" The Dane mused happily and smiled to himself. He brought out 3 items from the fridge and then proceeded to raid the cabinets for a couple of mugs. Finding the desired items, he put them down on the table and started working.

Norway glared steadily, while Denmark made his creations with obvious, unfaltering glee. Finally finished, he slid one mug to Norway and kept the other for himself. The magick-wielding blonde glanced down at the contents of his cup and then closed his eyes for a moment, in disbelief.

"Chocolate milk? You woke me up in the middle of the night... to make chocolate milk?"

"Yep!" Denmark replied, delighted. "Oh and I almost forgot." With a shhhhhrrrrr, the Dane squirted out a dollop of whipped cream onto each of their drinks.

"There. Perfect!"

"You are a different level of moron, did you know that, Dane?"

"Eeeyup! I think... Anyway, you'd better start drinking. Your cream is getting all soggy. And soggy cream in chocolate milk is just gross!"

Denmark followed his own words and started gulping down the chocolated-flavoured dairy beverage, and managed to get a mustache of cream while he was at it. Norway, instead, glared at his mug as if it were the source of all his problems. Even though said source, the true culprit, was sitting right next to him. He found a clean spoon and twirled it around the cup to amuse himself while refusing to drink the beverage, if only in defiance of Denmark. He didn't doubt that the chocolate milk tasted good. After all, you couldn't really go wrong with such a drink. Not to mention, Denmark had a major sweet tooth and was good at making foods and drinks that involved any sort of sugar.

A prickle at the nape of the magick-wielder's neck told him that someone—a certain someone—was watching him while he had been immersed in thought. He glanced over at the Danish man who's blank expression quickly turned into that of a smile. "Something wrong with your drink, Norge?" He asked curiously, tilting his head. He still had that stupid cream mustache... Norway sighed and grabbed a hand towel, wiping off the other's face of any vestiges of the dairy product.

"Oh! Takk, Norge!"

"Don't thank me, Danmark. I'm not your mother. Learn to clean your own face," Norway harrumphed in his chair, crossing his arms. He still didn't know why he hadn't just left to go back to his bed yet. He supposed it was because that was something Denmark would do. Norway was more polite than Denmark, so he refused to stoop to simply storming out.

The idiot was still grinning at him and it was really starting to get on his nerves.

"Can I help you?"

"We should do this more often, don't ya think? Like maybe tomorrow night!"

"No."

"Why not? I know you're not busy!" The Dane smirked cheekily, as if he knew something his friend knew not. This aroused suspicion in Norway, who cocked an eyebrow at Denmark.

"How do you know?"

"Well..." He paused dramatically. "There might be a small possibility that I may have snuck into your personal files and copied down your schedule. To know when you were free, of course! See that's how I knew that we could do something tonight. Because you've got nothin' tomorrow." Denmark grinned, clearly very proud of himself. "Not that you wouldn't make time for me anyway. You are my best friend, after all."

"...Norway?" Denmark looked at his friend, who had apparently fallen unconscious during Denmark's rambling. "Eh? Heeeej, Noooorge!"

"Norway!" He gripped the flaxen-haired man by the shoulders, shaking the limp body frantically.

...No. Denmark did not understand that his friend was merely asleep.

Somewhat angered and sleep-heavy eyes blinked open—well, half-open—to stare up at the wide-eyed gaze of the former-King. Blearily, Norway gathered up all the sheets and blanket that had been dragged downstairs with him but had fallen out of the taller man's grasp before they had arrived at the kitchen. He wrapped himself in the linens and sat back down on the chair, looking up at Denmark again, this time expectantly.

"What?"

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Annoyed eyes drooped with sleep.

"You carried me down here."

"Yes, I did!" Denmark nodded obliviously.

"I'm tired. Carry me back upstairs."

"You want me to carry you...?" The confused Dane tilted his head again. Most people would find that endearing, deeming such a behaviour to be puppy-like. Not Norway. He puffed his cheeks out (not pouting, mind you), in annoyance. "That's what I just said, moron. I didn't want to leave my bed in the first place. Now, carry me back upstairs."

"Well, all right, if that's what you want," Denmark replied. He stood, scooping the other up easily and in a much gentler manner than the first time that night. He didn't let the sheets or blanket drag on the ground and by the time they got back to the bedroom, Norway was fast asleep in Denmark's arms. The taller man untangled his companion from the linens and set him down back onto the bed. He rearranged the sheets in a neat and more comfortable way.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed and expecting to only be there briefly, he smiled at Norway. His best friend shifted a little in his sleep, unconsciously getting closer to the other body—and source of more heat—on the bed. The Dane chuckled quietly and grinned more, fondly brushing the bangs out of his friend's face before attempting to leave.

However, slim but calloused fingertips grasped Denmark's t-shirt and he gingerly scooted onto the bed to lie next to his Norway. Soon enough, drowsiness crept over the rowdiest of the Northern countries and Denmark fell into a comfortable sleep, an arm wrapped around his best friend.