A/N: I do not write yaoi, but this is a shounen-ai. It's not explicit. I don't think it is, but I wrote this for a friend. You know who you are, and I really hope that you like it. It's not as long as I expected, but it's something that I had fun writing it. I hope you have fun reading it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and never will.
"Don't tell me that you're mad."
The accusation appalled him. He was not! He did not widen his eyes, and he turned around casually, not willing to show the present displeasure that grumbled inside his stomach. No. He was not mad, and he was not upset. He was, he would admit that, bothered. He knew that he should not have been bothered, and he knew that the close to non-existent presence should not be. Yet, it was there in the mix of his stomach oils and acids. He shifted uncomfortably on the carpet, not wanting to look at him in the eye, but knowing he had no other option.
'I'm not mad," his voice came out helplessly, "I'm just bothered."
His companion released a good-natured laugh that bounced off the walls of the office, "Oh. And that's why you didn't talk to me after the party, is that it?"
Furiously, the reminder came to him, and his cheeks turned pink. It was true. He hadn't talked to him during the party. Though he was terribly impressed with his entrance, a grand one it was, he could not handle that he was not a part of said entrance. The dancers, the sparkles, and the style were all too much for him to ingest, and he realized that he wasn't a part of it. It ruined it for him.
"I didn't mean to!" He said defensively and moved to his leather chair behind his desk, "I was just caught up in the excitement. America threw a cool party."
On the opposite side, the male nation sat with a cool expression on his face. His black hair was slicked back, and his cool-maple brown eyes were humble. But that was India. That was what he was. He had learned a long time ago that the nation was more unassuming than any other, and he constantly felt upheave of tension surrounding him. And yet, strangely, he felt a rising excitement in his loins. He was reluctant to admit that much, and he was more reluctant to admit to his slight at the performance, minus him. He slumped into his chair, and he brought one hand to cram down into his bright ash brown hair. The end nerves of hair giggled at the touch, and he was able to bring his mind to a good perspective.
"America's party was awesome." He looked up at the brown eyes with an emotion, feeling, he did not understand, "And you're dance with Prussia was freaking amazing, but…it could've been better." He crossed his arms and lifted his chin, defiantly, at the other nation who sat there with an unreadable expression.
India's smile was pleasant. It was an unknown, and he simply wanted to know it. Several moments passed and the nation finally replied, "I see. Now, tell me, Denmark, what should I change? Prussia and I worked on that performance for months, and I think that our final product was exceptional."
"But it could be better!" He hadn't meant to shout and frowned at his burst of emotion, "I mean, things can always be improved."
Suddenly, it went quiet, and a tumbling-groaning feeling went throughout Denmark's body. He had said something wrong, very wrong, and India was now mad at him. He knew it. The brown eyes that were so humble and unappealing went quite hard in a fast moment's of time. He still sat on the opposite chair, the curved chair with velvet cushions, but his hands were neatly folded on his lap. His smile had dissipated it, and his head was tilted to the right. He didn't look mad, not entirely, but he didn't look right. Denmark frowned and didn't look back. No, no. India, not him of all people, would get him.
"I'm just saying!" He rolled his eyes at India's sudden change, "I'm not being mean."
India stood. He stood to his full height, and he stared down at the nation Denmark. He was silent, and his movements could not indicate what he intended to do. He walked up to the desk, and gently placed his hands on top. On the small piles of documents that needed to be signed, but he did not cause anything to fall. His maple brown eyes, so unassuming and yet so hard, were etched into his crystalline blue. Denmark was positive, in that moment, that the thump-thumping of his heart could be heard to the world's delight. He swallowed thickly, not wanting to give him the upper hand, but he didn't know what to do. He wasn't often put in situation like these, and he usually wasn't the one to instigate it.
His face and his face were too close together. He could smell the smell of his cologne, and he was relieved that the cologne as not strong and stench.
"India," he had not realized that he had spoken first, "what are you doing?"
Odd as it was, the small gap between them was breached when the standing nation pressed his lips onto Denmark's exposed forehead. The briefest of moments, and Denmark felt his body instantly tense. It was a short kiss; not much time to in take the feeling of his lips on his forehead. The moment was much shorter than he had imagined, would have liked, and he reeled back his chair, causing it to roll to the window without breaking it. Bewildered, he placed his hand on his forehead where the lingering and tingling sensation of his lips on his forehead remained.
"Wh-what was that?" A mixture of sickness and oh-so delight ran through him, "What was that?"
The smile that was humble and kind returned, "Ah. Jealously doesn't suit you, Denmark. I wanted you to know that."
Denmark opened his mouth, but no words came. India continued to smile, and the twinkle of his eyes returned. He was just ready, just ready to make his announcement on what exactly did that kiss mean when the doors of his opened suddenly opened. All thoughts concerning the kiss were melted to the back of his mind.
"Mr. Denmark and Mr. India, the press conference will be beginning soon," an officer in black said, "we will be waiting outside."
"Of course," India turned around and towards the door, "I don't want to keep the masses waiting."
"Bu-but wait!" Denmark called out and hopped out of his chair, walking behind him, "What was all that about?"
"Didn't you hear me?" India laughed sweetly, "Jealously doesn't suit you. Now, please, we have a press conference to attend." He motioned his thumb at the waiting men dressed in black, and he walked out of the door without disturbance.
The words ran inside his head, and Denmark attempted to wrap his mind around it. Jealousy doesn't suit you. It must have a certain quality to it, a meaning. He knew that there was something in it. As he stepped out behind him, looking at his back, it came to him.
"Oh." A cheeky grin appeared on his lips, "Damn right! Maybe we can work on our own dance, right India?"
"Perhaps," India replied smoothly, "But I have a different dance in mind."
Together they walked in comfortable and admirable silence. They were prepared to battle the flashing photographer and frustrating questions that their respective leaders would be coerced to answer. But on the upside, Denmark reasoned, he felt confident that he had no need to feel that tempting emotions that gave way to obvious visible insanities.
A/N: Very short. Very sweet. I see India as a total cool dude. He and Prussia had an amazing entrance at America's Halloween party. I loooved it. I still do. To all those who read, review, or anything else of the kind, thank you. Remember, reviews are love, and I do like knowing what you think.
Have a great week and weekend!