"'lright, br'ng out th' drinks." Berwald commanded, rolling his eyes as Mathias grinned cheerfully.
Tino stood up to grab the alcohol, but hesitated for a moment, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he stared at the other man. "I don't know... There is after all a child here..." his eyes slipped over to the side to glance at Eiríkur, who caught this gaze with a raised eyebrow.
"Ah, my apologies." The Icelandic teen turned towards Mathias. "How inconsiderate of me to be drinking alcohol in Mathias's presence- after all, he is a very impressionable child. Wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea."
Lukas hid his chuckle behind his hand as Mathias stared at the fifteen year old, his face going red. "Why you little fucker-"
"Now, now; no need to be using that language." Eiríkur wagged his finger, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "What horrible words for a child like you to be saying."
Tino couldn't help but laugh a little himself, still standing next to Berwald who was fighting the smile that threatened to overcome his blank face. Ah, nothing like a battle of the wits to amuse you. Lukas leaned back on his elbows as he watched them play it out.
Mathias scowled and leaned over to whack the white haired boy. "You're going to die a slow and painful death, brat. You'll be seeing Heaven sooner rather then later."
"Ah, but you see, I'll be in Hell with the rest of you. There's already a spot for me too. It's called the throne."
Eiríkur dodged the hand coming out to smack him, and he scooted closer to his brother, a grin still on his face. "You're so easy to tease," he commented cheerfully.
"And you're a brat."
The Icelander grabbed the glass that Tino offered him. "Takes one to know one, Dan."
A grumble was all the reply he got.
cute little drabble thing I really wanted to do. I got this idea in my head a while ago and I wanted to write it down before I forget.
I do not own Hetalia.