Norway trotted down the stairs to the dining room, face expressionless as usual, but there was a smugness hiding in his eyes that he hadn't even tried to erase. He'd won, after all - why shouldn't be be smug?

Iceland passed by him, giving him the widest berth possible and doing everything he could to not acknowledge the other's existence. He would look almost as placid as his brother, but those who knew him well picked up on the pale boy's fury; it hid in the rigidity of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes and mouth, as if he was only barely holding back the words that so desperately wanted to spill out . . . at the highest possible volume.

'I did that,' Norway thought, and was it so bad that he felt almost a bit proud of that? After all, he wouldn't have done anything if Icey hadn't made him. He put him in a place that demanded action on his part - what did the boy expect?

But even if he deserved what he'd got, Norway didn't like to have Iceland mad at him. He had such a nasty habit of holding on to grudges. Just like his older brother.

He watched the pale teen set the plates on the table more forcefully than normal. His hands gripped the sides of the dishes so tightly that his knuckles were white. If he squeezes them any tighter they will break, Norway observed.

"Still mad at me, Icey?" he teased, and he wasn't sure if he'd meant to sound cruel. Maybe not - it rarely got him what he wanted.

The boy froze for just a second, a plate hovering just above Denmark's place. Norway wondered if he was about to throw it at him - wouldn't that be interesting. But then he'd have to replace the plate. He watched him, a bit surprised at the eagerness he felt. 'Come on, lillebror,' he thought in anticipation, feeling himself ready to dodge an attack. 'Come on. React. Make a scene. Then you'll have to admit that I made you lose your precious composure.' And that would be just another victory for the day.

He was honestly disappointed when Iceland let out the breath he'd held in a tiny, almost inaudible sound, and set down the plate. He moved on to his own place, setting down the final plate, and walked away without a word.

'He has remarkable restraint for a teenager,' the Norwegian with almost clinical pride. His little Icey, so reserved.

But then, that was his doing too.

He sat down at his place, taking a close look at his dish to ensure there was no toxic substance spread over the porcelain. No; it seemed that his brother has passed up a perfectly good opportunity to get back at him. He settled back comfortably to wait, glad that it wasn't his night to cook. Sweden was probably still in the kitchen, watching the bread rise and warning Finny to stay away from the hot stovetop, even though the Finn obviously knew. If Lukas wasn't mistaken dinner would be beet and onion soup (Berwald's personal favorite) and some large dish involving meat, probably venison.

Norway let his thoughts drift until the food was ready. The first thing he took notice of was that Iceland was not in the right seat. He always sat beside him, always. But instead of his cold little brother, the tall and obnoxious Dane slid in to the seat on his right. He glared at him, irritated and confused, when he saw Iceland take Denmark's seat at the foot of the table. With Denmark between them it was nearly impossible to see Icey! Anger lapped at his blood, his hands twitching in to fists. He was about to stand and remedy the situation when Sweden came in, setting a bowl of hot soup directly in front of him and giving him a look he recognized: don't cause trouble.

It was usually Denmark who received that look.

The Nordic raised a cool brow, but the Berwald just narrowed his eyes briefly and went to retrieve the rest of the soup. Once everyone was seated, Finny across from him and Sweden across from Denmark, the meal began. Sealand would normally be seated at the head of the table to Norway's left, but he was over at a friend's house for the weekend, leaving only the elder Nordics.

Frustrated that he couldn't see Iceland, Lukas ladled the soup in to his mouth, making a face when the liquid scalded his tongue. Finny noticed and asked if he was alright, causing Denmark to pay attention to him, and there began a meal course's worth of bickering. Emil never said a thing as Sweden cleared the bowls away and brought out a large plate of - he'd guessed it - venison, and a dish of mashed potatoes that Finny had probably made, judging by the elegant sprinkle of spices atop the white mountain. Denmark dove for the food as if he would never have the opportunity to eat again, abandoning his argument with the prickly Norwegian. The other nations gathered their own portions from what he left behind. With the Dane leaning across the table to cut away strips of venison, Lukas was able to get his first good look at his little brother since they'd sat down. The boy looked just as reserved as before, but he noticed the anger still shadowed in his face and posture. He was about to try to engage him again when he noticed Finny shaking his head at him very deliberately.

Norway gave the Finn a questioning look, but Finland just gave him another meaningful look before taking a bite of his venison and glancing concernedly at Iceland.

Finland had noticed something wrong as soon as he and Sweden returned home after their shopping. Iceland was furious, and the guest they'd been expecting for lunch was nowhere in sight. And from the haughty, pleased look in Norway's eyes as he lounged on the loveseat with his music, Finny knew it was his fault. Worry had settled in to him immediately, but he knew that when it came to the brothers, asking was never a real chance at finding anything out. So Finny waited, and hovered, and tried to send reassurances and comfort to Iceland whenever he caught the teen's eye. It was all he knew to do.

And it payed off when, as Emil collected the plates to set out for dinner, he mumbled to the Finn, "Make sure I'm not sitting with him tonight." Finland nodded, and Emil looked the tiniest bit relieved, and he mumbled something else that may have even been a 'thank you'. Finny was happy, knowing he'd played even a miniscule part in helping the boy he had thought of as family for so many years. That didn't erase his concern though, and he made it a point to warn Lukas from provoking the boy. Whatever had happened between the brothers and possibly the guest, further meddling on Norway's part wouldn't help matters in the least.

Norway rolled his eyes at the Finn's mother hen behavior. Emil belonged to him after all - he was the only one who needed to worry about him.

Denmark began clamoring for beer, and then had a near panic attack when he realized there was none in the house. After that he bolted the rest of his food and complimented Sweden on dinner before darting out the door for his beloved alcohol. As usual, he forgot his coat.

In the sudden silence, each of the countries tensened. Finland was still warning Lukas with his eyes not to do anything stupid, and Norway was watching his brother, wondering if Iceland could feel his eyes boring in to him. He considered making Icey's silverware dance across the table to get his attention. Or having the troll grab his ankle. Knowing Ice though, he'd just kick it away. Sweden stood up, startling the other three nations from their various staring contests. "Des'rt," he grunted, going to retrieve the chocolate cake that Finny had made to satisfy his sweet tooth. They ate in silence, and the only time Iceland looked up from his plate was to give Finny a half-smile and indicate that the food was good. Tino smiled shyly back. Norway bent his fork, his grip too tight.

When dinner ended, there was an air of 'what now' about the room. Sweden, surprisingly, was the first to break the silence. "Go'n t' go aft'r Den. Migh' get'm self 'urt. Or som'un else." With that he stood up, kissed Finland goodbye and left. As much as he agreed that Denmark needed looking after Finny was sad for the loss of his backup. Even if he was almost as able, especially with a pistol, his fellow nations tended to forget that when they took his small stature.

Iceland stood, catching both countries' attention as he gathered the plates. He was careful to show absolutely nothing when he had to pass close to Norway, and quickly went to the kitchen to do the dishes. Lukas watched him go until the boy was out of sight, and was surprised to find the Finn glaring at him from across the table when he looked away.

"I don't know what you did to him, Norja, but I'd like to remind you that his happiness is supposed to be your first concern. That is what big brothers are for."

Finland let his words sink in before he rising and going to the kitchen to bid Iceland goodnight and to tell him to raise a shout if he should need him, then made his way up to bed. He only hoped that Norway's incredible knack for making things worse didn't take hold tonight.

Lukas watched the entrance to the kitchen, waiting to see if his little brother would come at him now that they were alone, wondering what he might throw. No such thing. The teen seemed content to hide out in the kitchen until Norway disappeared. 'I'm afraid that won't do, lillebror.'

He rose like a cat - silent, predatory, so self-assured, and he followed Emil into the kitchen.

'That won't do at all.'