Picking Noses

Bluest-of-Jayys

Lukas arrived home from work to find Mathias spread across the couch, limp and lazy, and immediately knew something was amiss. It was unsettling to see Mathias so drained and unlike his usual, irritating, inhumanly energetic self.

"Have you started dinner?" he asked warily.

Mathias's only reply was a drawn-out sigh, a confirmation that something was indeed wrong. Lukas crossed the living room floor in two quick strides. Before Mathias could get up to cook some feeble attempt at a dinner, Lukas settled chilly hands around his boyfriend's cheeks and buried his nose in the eternal rat's nest of Mathias's hair. "Never mind," he said softly.

Mathias pulled Lukas's hands away from his face. "You're cold!" he cried, sitting up.

"Of course, I just got home," Lukas answered with a pout, taking up the seat next to Mathias. He pat his thighs. "Lie down."

A brief smile crossed Mathias's lips as he lay his head in Lukas's lap. This time, he let Lukas's cold hands stroke his face, his hair, and his lips as they slowly warmed up.

"Something happened to you at work today," Lukas stated astutely.

"You know me too well," sighed Mathias, pressing kisses to his boyfriend's fingertips.

"Talk to me. I want to help."

Mathias closed his eyes. "It's just a work matter," he said, "not really anything big, just… ugh. That jerk Berwald got the raise I was vying for—hey, don't put your fingers in there!"

Lukas pulled his pinky out of Mathias's nostril and wiped it on his trousers as if it were nothing. "There's always next time," he said matter-of-factly, "you're smart and a hard worker, even though you have a tendency to lick things to claim them as yours."

"Says the guy stickin' his pinkies in my nose," Mathias shot back, a grin spreading across his face. Lukas returned it with a small smile of his own and he extended his arms, inviting Mathias to hold him. Mathias buried his face in the crook of Lukas's neck, arms around the smaller man's waist.

"God, Luke, I dunno what I'd do if I didn't have you to do weird shit to my nose," Mathias's laugh was watery and he clutched at Lukas's shirt.

"Feeling a little better, at least?" asked Lukas, scratching gently at his boyfriend's scalp.

Mathias practically melted in his arms. "Loads better," he purred, "but I still don't wanna cook."

"I'll call for pizza."

"Jesus H. Christ, Luke. If you don't stop being so perfect, I'm gonna have to marry you," warned Mathias.

"Guess I'll have to keep being perfect, then," Lukas answered, releasing Mathias from his grasp and reaching for his cell phone.

"Huh!?"

AN: I have a headcanon that Norway is at least as weird as Denmark, just in a slightly different way.