Title: Bror
Author: sithmarauder
Pairing(s): Denmark/Norway, one-sided Iceland/Norway
Disclaimer: Hetalia and all affiliated characters do not (and will never) belong to me.
Google translate is the worst thing ever, so I apologize for anything I may have gotten wrong. Not that there's more than one or two words... Still.
Sequel to Assuage, but can be read alone. Part two in a series of three one-shots, though I might just add the last one-shot as a second chapter to this. I do not know. What do you think?
-x-
Iceland disapproves, this Norway knows for a fact. He can tell from the way his brother's violet eyes pass coolly over him, sometimes focusing on the bite mark that Denmark has granted Norway generously, the pale-haired nation's brow knitted into a faint frown as he processes the information, and comes to a conclusion that is likely correct.
Norway never takes it to heart – not too much, at least. True, he feels very strongly for Iceland, his brother, but there are some things that Norway knows he shouldn't dwell on.
Iceland tolerates Denmark, Norway knows, and that is about it. But Iceland is young – the youngest of the Nordics – and he hasn't always been there; hasn't seen all the things Denmark, Sweden, Finland, and Norway himself have seen. So Norway says nothing, as usual – he goes through his usual routines, and does not speak unless subtly insulting Denmark, his actions and movements reclusive and aloof.
He doesn't say anything until Iceland mentions it first.
"He bit you."
The way Iceland says it doesn't alert Norway at first – he is used to his brother's composed tone, for it is all he and the other Nordics hear these days, ever since Iceland started getting older – before he had gotten the results of his DNA testing back. No, it is actually Iceland himself – the way he stands, body tense and fists clenched, violet eyes narrowed – that warns the older nation, so instead of continuing about his task, Norway places the candle holder he has picked up from the floor onto the small table, straightening his back and turning to face Iceland, his face devoid of anything.
Iceland stares at him a little more, and Norway notices, almost idly, the way his brother's hands have begun to shake lightly. When Iceland takes a step forward, Norway doesn't move – he lets Iceland restrain him silently, the youngest Nordic's hands tugging at the collar of Norway's sailor top, his blue eyes dull against Iceland's cool violet, as per usual.
He feels Iceland's hands on his neck as Denmark's claim is revealed in full, not half-hidden like it had been earlier. No memories rush to Norway's mind, as one might expect; Denmark has simply bitten him harshly in a bout of passion, as he is wont to do. Denmark can be a brute sometimes – this is hardly surprising to anyone.
Norway inclines his head and regards his brother with faint curiosity as Iceland's hands flutter over the mark, the look in his brother's eyes… Norway frowns now. He hasn't seen Iceland look this focused on a singular thing in a long time, especially something this trivial.
It is possible that Iceland was not previously aware of Norway's engagements with Denmark, their former conqueror, but the thought barely registers in Norway's mind before he dismisses it, for he knows that it is not true. He has never enlightened Iceland, yes, but he has his reasons. In this case, there had been no prior need for an elucidation. Why explain something to someone who is already aware of it, after all?
"He bit you."
Norway straightens again, pulling away from his younger brother as he does so. Strange; brother isn't usually one to repeat himself.
"Yes."
Norway's eyes barely register his surprise as Iceland suddenly pushes him against the wall, his brother's eyes hovering over the angry red mark as the elder Nordic remains deceptively still. Iceland's breathing has sped up rapidly, and Norway tries to move away only to have the violet-eyed nation's grip tighten as he is held stubbornly in place.
He doesn't expect the sudden pressure he feels on his neck as Iceland presses his lips against the mark lightly, teeth scraping Norway's skin as Norway himself stiffens, dull blue eyes moving to focus on Iceland.
"Brother?" Norway asks then, no longer able to keep silent, as he usually does. Iceland looks up, and in his eyes burns a fire Norway has never seen before – a passionate one, warm.
Norway knows that, deep down, his brother is hot-blooded – something the youngest Nordic keeps under tabs at all times, preferring to spend his free time with that puffin of his. He knows. He knows, and he keeps it to himself. It is not his secret to tell, if it can even be called a secret.
"Bror," Norway repeats, this time in his own language, putting a large emphasis on the word. Iceland ignores it.
"Rólegur," Iceland suddenly says, his voice a low hiss as he leans up and claims Norway's mouth with his own. Norway, arms still held at his side by the other Nordic, frowns. He doesn't gasp in surprise, and he doesn't do anything to encourage or discourage Iceland – he just stays there, still, as Iceland's lips move against his. Iceland will stop in his own time.
He always does.
When Iceland pulls away, it is abrupt, and Norway is fast to slip gracefully away, lackluster eyes catching and holding Iceland's piercing violet. There is a tense moment where the two brothers peer at each other, one with flat, uninterested eyes and the other with a passion quickly disappearing underneath a cold mask.
When Denmark walks into the room, it is to the two Nordic siblings staring at each other silently, and he arches an eyebrow, resting his ax against the wall as Norway slowly looks up and bestows upon him a brief nod. Denmark is tired – Norway can see this clearly in his eyes, and though the expression he wears is cheery, he has been under a lot of pressure from his boss and the other nations.
"Norge?" the Dane asks, flopping down onto the couch in a few languid motions, his feet going to rest on the arm of the chair.
"The springs in the couch are wearing down," Norway remarks instead of answering, shifting his eyes from Iceland to Denmark, the latter of which grins, though it doesn't light his eyes up like it used to.
"I know, right? I have to replace it," Denmark replies with a shrug, reaching up to scratch the back of his head slightly. Norway doesn't even sigh this time – he just fixes Denmark with a level stare and walks over to him, placing one hand on the armrest near Denmark's head as he leans in to kiss the other nation chastely, an action that evokes a (surprised) growl from Denmark. And if Norway is alarmed by the abrupt way Iceland slams the door as he leaves the room, he doesn't show it.
"Hey, Norge, you two fight or something?" Denmark asks, one of his hands having reached up to curl around Norway's wrist.
Norway tilts his head to the side then, surveying Denmark silently as he repeats the question slowly in his mind.
"I suppose."
The answer surprises Denmark, for he didn't expect a worded response – just the same, judgmental stare Norway is so irritatingly fond of.
"I see."
But they both know he does not.
Later on, when Denmark has drifted off to sleep, his head in Norway's lap as the third tallest Nordic strokes his hair with more gentleness than he'd like to think about, Norway takes the time to ponder Iceland's actions carefully.
"If home is where the heart truly is, then mine is with you, Norway."
He remembers the day Iceland made that statement – before the DNA test, before the younger nation found out they were brothers... something Norway had later confessed to Finland he had already known. It hadn't alarmed him then – not like it did now, if the faint flicker of worry he can feel distantly can be identified as 'alarm.'
In the past, Iceland has always ceased his actions before things became too serious.
Only now Norway can't help but think that, the next time it happens, Iceland won't stop with just a kiss.