A/N: Oh, lord. I don't even know anymore. This is so crackatastic and filled with failed humor and bad characterization that…I just…don't. Some people say that authors new to a fandom should start off with canon or popular pairings. Maybe that's true as much as I don't like it; I've found less than half a dozen fics for this pairing (good god did they even interact in canon to begin with?) but the idea hit me one morning and it just happened. Normally I hate fluff, I really do…so don't ask me how I shat out this crack-induced piece of failed fluff. Constructive criticism is appreciated and much needed (because I chose two of the most awkward characters to write with, huh), kthx. Other pairings and slash are somewhat mentioned. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

* vitleysa means something like, I dunno, some kind of expletive in Icelandic. I think. –shot-

It was unexpected, that kiss.

It was not exceedingly chaste, not like the ones her adoptive brother occasionally—which meant once or twice, she could not remember because both of them had been blushing so hard—gave her, the ones that she secretly cherished because she hoped that more would come.

It was not a peck on the cheek, like that nice brunette always gave her when she came over. Most of those visits ended with her brother running out with a rifle, yelling at her to get off the lawn; it didn't matter though, because Hungary always came back through the window anyway. Sooner or later Switzerland would find out about that hidden stack of doujinshi underneath her bed.

It was not lustful, like what some people did in the empty rooms after important world meetings. She had accidentally stumbled upon some of them before—France certainly hadn't been too careful about who saw what, and it had been quite fascinating watching him go at it with England in a half-open cupboard. Later she thought that she probably shouldn't have taken a peek at those books that Hungary had left in her room for safekeeping; after a while the images engraved in her mind became, really, quite traumatizing.

But when Iceland had kissed her, she felt none of those things. He had kissed her on the lips, inexplicably, right after the meeting had adjourned for a short break. Everyone had already filed out excitedly for the coffee machine down the hall, as that meeting had been particularly boring. That was all right, because Liechtenstein thought she would have died of awkwardness if there had been.

It was a light kiss, a simple kiss, yet it had stuck her feet right to the floor.

"W-why…what…" Liechtenstein could only stare at him, red-faced, spluttering like she had never done before. Switzerland had never let any man so near her before—not Austria, not Germany, certainly not Prussia or any of those rowdy types. It would suffice to say that she did not have any idea how to react to an act as intimate as this. "Why did you kiss me?"

Apparently he had no idea, either. "I…I don't know. You were just standing there and I—"

Am I supposed to apologize? He thought, mind racing.

"Oh. Well." The blonde looked down at her feet, which still felt stuck entirely to the floor. She wondered vaguely about how red her cheeks were, and about when the burning feeling on her lips would fade. Admittedly, she didn't even know the white-haired boy well to begin with, but…it had certainly been a pleasant feeling, that kiss.

"I'm sorry. Should I go?" Iceland seemed determined to look at anything but her; right now, he was glancing pointedly at the door. How did that even happen? I was going to ask her something about taxes…and then…oh, vitleysa. This is embarrassing.

"It's fine," she replied, hastily, as he was just about to take a step towards it. Both of them paused. After a moment, Liechtenstein ventured in a whisper, "I…I kind of liked it."

"Really?"

"I do." Looking straight into his violet eyes, she smiled, albeit shyly. "Thank you. I have…never been kissed by a boy before."

"Oh. I guess then…you're welcome." She certainly is cute, he thought, as he smiled awkwardly back, heart thumping. Then something else came to mind. "You…are you going to tell Switzerland?"

"Ah." In truth, Liechtenstein had entirely forgotten to worry about what her brother would think about her being kissed, unprotected and unsupervised—even though the thought of a supervised kiss certainly seemed odd. "I don't know if brother would like that…"

"Maybe you shouldn't tell him," he pointed out wisely. After all, he didn't want Switzerland coming after him with several fully-loaded rifles…. The girl nodded, a bit uncertain about keeping secrets from her brother, but thought that it might be for the best. After all, she did not get to keep secrets often—not counting helping Hungary hide her collections—and she had found out she quite liked doing that. "Where is he, anyway?"

"I don't know…were we not supposed to be on a coffee break—"

The door suddenly banged open, startling both of them. Oh god.

"Aha! I knew there was something going on in here!" Denmark jumped in, pointing an accusing finger at Iceland, who looked like he was about to kill something. Several other nations popped up behind the Dane, who was looking very smug indeed. "Are you guys dating?"

"N-no! What in the world are you talking about?"

"Ah, but I think dear Islande is lying…do I detect a blush?"

"Shut up!"

"Guys, guys, this isn't any way to go about young love," Finland chided, then turned to the two dumbstruck nations, smiling knowingly. "You should really be glad Switzerland isn't here right now—where did he go off to, China?"

"He forgot something at the hotel, aru." The Asian nation finally pried Russia's tightly gripped hand off his shoulder, and walked forward to inspect Liechtenstein, whose mind had hit a blank wall. "You are using protection, aru? Young people these days, they don't think about that at all, aru! Back in the old days—"

"Can you guys please leave?" Iceland managed, through gritted teeth. It was no help that his own brother seemed as if he were secretly smiling. "It's no business of yours what we are doing."

"Ah, well, mon cher, we shall respect your wishes then…to the next room!"

"You stupid frog, watch where that hand is going!"

"Someone go to the front door to wait for Switzerland and tell him we've switched rooms," Hungary piped up, and Denmark immediately volunteered. "And tell him that those two are in the restrooms."

She gave Liechtenstein a look that plainly said 'tell me about this later!' and closed the door behind her, leaving the room silent once more. The blonde glanced at her companion; he had, pretty much, gone as red as a tomato. It suddenly struck her as hilarious, and she choked out an uncharacteristic laugh. Anxiously, he turned to look at her. "S-sorry…I don't know what came over me."

"'s alright," he mumbled. Suddenly he felt another hand slip into his, timidly but firmly. Liechtenstein gave his hand a small squeeze.

"Don't be bothered by them. I think…they're happy that this is happening, anyway, or something like that."

"Thank you." Their eyes met, briefly. "I guess…we should head back. They might start to have strange thoughts. You can go first…in case, well, in case your brother gets worried."

"Okay." Flashing him another uncertain smile, Liechtenstein let go of his hand and walked up to the door. She paused as she opened it. "And if you were worrying about my brother…I will not tell him."

Iceland watched her retreating back, perplexed, hand still tingling with the soft feeling that Liechtenstein's own small hand had given him. He looked down, smiling to himself ruefully. Maybe it would be worth risking Switzerland's wrath to do it again.

But before any of that could happen—and he didn't know how it could happen again—he would need to take care of some other things. Pushing that Danish bastard down a volcano sounded like a great idea just about now.

"Brother, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes?"

"What do you feel when you kiss a girl?"

"I—Liechtenstein! What…I…"

Watching her brother turn eleven different shades of crimson as he tried to ask her why in the world she was asking that question, Liechtenstein smiled softly. So really, it wasn't his fault…I do wonder why kissing girls is embarrassing for boys, though. Then her thoughts shifted to the pile under her bed, and realization dawned. Maybe that's it! They like kissing each other more…I have to make sure, though.

"How about kissing boys?"

Switzerland could only stare at her with his mouth half open, wordlessly cursing that damned Hungarian woman. It was all her fault, he was sure. He muttered something about it being 'not done', and then promptly went out the door with a rifle.

That night, as Liechtenstein slipped quietly into bed, she wondered if Iceland would kiss her again, sometime. The thought made her smile, even though she still had no idea why he had done it in the first place. Being noticed by someone other than her brother, though, gave her a warm feeling inside her heart, and she hugged her pillow closer. This night, she decided, would be excellent for a good dream. Tomorrow she would go and ask for his phone number. Or email address. Or whatever it was that people used to contact each other these days. She didn't get many calls often (courtesy of her brother), so she had no idea. But the very thought of it cheered her up, even though it was all still vaguely strange and a little frightening to her when she realized that she might have just developed the tiniest crush on the island nation.

And so she slept and fell into sweet dreams of being kissed once more, oblivious to the loud clanging sounds of bullets on frying pans outside her door, the shocked yelps and squawks of a puffin from the other side of Europe.

THE END.