"Denmark! Bro, come in, come in!"

Denmark stepped out of the cold and snow and into the warmth and light of America's front entrance. He shivered in relief and shook snow out of his disheveled blonde hair. The night was cold even for him, a chilly Nordic country.

"Dude, like, welcome, man. I'm TOTALLY pumped that you're here!" said America brightly.

"Thanks!" replied Denmark.

"Why're you so late?"

"I got caught in the storm."

"Oh, okay."

He was about to say more, but America had already lost interest and was chasing England off somewhere. Not offended, Denmark set off down the hallway, greeting his fellow nations along the way. He quickly pressed himself to the wall as Prussia flew past him, seemingly running for his life. Denmark was just about to call after him and ask what the hell was going on when Hungary ran by, waving her frying pan and swearing at the ex-nation in rapid Hungarian.

With a shrug, Denmark moved on.

"Sve!" he shouted, spotting the bespectacled Nordic. Sweden and his boyfriend, Finland, both glanced up as Denmark approached.

"Hey, Denmark!" said Finland cheerfully. Sweden said nothing, only nodded.

"Have either of you seen Norge?" asked Denmark. He was eager to find his lover so that they could enjoy the party together.

Neither of them had seen Norway for some time. He had definitely come to the party, but they had not seen him since. Figuring that he would happen upon Norway at some point, Denmark continued to the heart of the party.

Of course, the alcohol was flowing freely. England was already on his way to piss-crazy drunk. Prussia seemed to have escaped Hungary's wrath and had, of course, challenged Germany to a drinking competition. Romano was struggling under the grip of his brother's "hug therapy." Laughing, Denmark joined the party.

After a few hours, the nations organized themselves into a game of spin the bottle. It was close to midnight, they didn't have much time before they would celebrate the New Year, so they would have to make it quick. As everyone rushed to find a spot in the circle, Denmark looked for Norway. He was still nowhere to be found. Denmark began to grow concerned.

"Hey Ice, have you seen Norge?"

"No. He's probably hiding out somewhere."

"Eh? What do you—"

"Dudes!" interrupted America. "Shut up, we're starting the game!"

Denmark fell silent, still preoccupied. After much arguing, it was decided that America would spin the bottle first as host of the party. Grinning widely, he spun it. A chorus of "Oooohs" broke out as it began to slow, sliding painfully past Britain and Spain before landing definitely on France. Everyone began to exclaim loudly, cheering and clapping and egging them on.

France sidled across the circle to a blushing America, winking seductively. America laughed and stood to meet him. France wrapped his arms around the American's waist.

"Well, Amer—"

"Jus' get it OVER with, ya bloody wankers!" shouted England drunkenly. Everyone laughed at his obvious display of jealousy. Blushing furiously, America quickly pressed his lips to France's, then hurried back to his spot in the circle.

"What? That is all?" sniffed France, feigning disdain. "England tells me that you can do far better than—"

"Just sit down!"

The next to spin was Romano, and he didn't volunteer, he was shoved into the circle by his brother. The bottle almost stopped on Germany, much to Northern Italy's horror, but instead landed on Spain.

"Mi amor!" called Spain happily, opening his arms.

"Shut up, you idiot!" protested Romano, but even as everyone watched Spain pulled him into his arms and gave him a long kiss. Everyone cheered and clapped as Romano shoved the Spaniard away, swearing at him in Italian.

A new volunteer was asked for. No one came directly forward, but Finland piped up, "I think Denmark should go!"

There was a general noise of agreement.

"Ah, why the hell not," said Denmark good-naturedly, and moved towards the bottle. He gripped it firmly and spun it as hard as he could, rocking back on his heels as he eagerly awaited whom it would land on.

It ended up landing on Canada. There was a brief commotion as everyone struggled to remember who Canada was, and then they resumed their cheering and clapping. Grinning, Denmark approached Canada. The man was relatively tall, and he had innocent blue eyes and eyebrows that always seemed to be turned up in a regretful expression. He wore glasses like America, but his were rounded rather than square.

Canada blushed furiously as Denmark wrapped his arms around his body. Deciding to waste no time, Denmark began to kiss Canada. He had expected the kiss to be quick, but upon beginning it, he discovered that he enjoyed the feeling of Canada's mouth on his, and went in for more. The other nations cheered as their kiss grew more heated and involved with tongues. Denmark was just about to break the contact when suddenly the room grew silent.

Denmark looked up to see Norway standing in the door of the room. At first his look was one of utter betrayal, but soon his eyes hardened over into cold disdain. Without a word, he turned and fled the room.

Denmark's heart and stomach dropped. Casting an apologetic look at Canada, he dropped their embrace and ran out of the room, after Norway.

"Norge! Norge!" he shouted. Norway paid no heed, instead threw open America's door and fled into the snowstorm. Cursing in Danish, Denmark chased after him. Norway was small and fast, but Denmark was faster. Even in the deep snow, he soon gained on him. Norway refused to stop running, however, so Denmark was forced to grab him by the shoulders and spin him around to face him. Even then, Norway refused to meet his eyes, instead stubbornly staring to the right.

"Norway, listen to me!" said Denmark intensely. "That was just a game! I swear!"

The other nation remained silent.

"Jesus, haven't you heard of spin the bottle?"

Silence. Denmark was beginning to grow desperate.

"Norge! I don't love anybody but you! Please believe me!"

Still Norway said nothing.

"Damn it! Where were you all night, anyway? Maybe if you had been with me—"

"Then you wouldn't have gone whoring around with other men?" snapped Norway bitingly.

"Norway! It was a fucking game!"

"Yeah, you looked like you were having fun."

Denmark felt tears began to prick at his eyes. "Norge, pl—" He was cut off by a stinging slap to the face. He stumbled back a little, surprised.

"Why are you such an idiot?" shouted Norway. Now it was Denmark's turn to be speechless. With a grunt, Norway shoved him, hard, in the shoulders. Denmark stumbled and fell into the snow.

"I thought we agreed that we were exclusive now! Yeah, I know, it took me a while, but I finally agreed to be with you exclusively and no one else. After so much begging, I thought you might hew to that agreement a little longer than this!" He began to pace through the blizzard. His eyebrows were set in an angry expression. His striking figure was also dramatically silhouetted in the light cast from America's house. With his eyes ablaze and the snow whipping around his slender hips and legs, Norway was more attractive than ever.

"Seriously! Get a grip! God, it's so annoying how you don't think before you do anything!"

"You've always said you find that cute."

Startled, Norway looked down at Denmark, sitting in the cold snow. He stared back up at Norway with wide blue eyes, tears running down his cheeks. With a start, Norway realized he had never seen Denmark cry before.

As Denmark watched, Norway's anger broke. He swiped a hand across his face.

"Damn it, Denmark. You're so stupid, but you know I love you, right?"

Smiling, Denmark got up from the snow, his face still wet with tears. Norway surprised him by bounding across the distance separating them and throwing his arms around him. Denmark pressed his face into Norway's soft blonde hair, still crying, though now in relief. He lifted the Norwegian's chin with his gloved fingers and kissed him, paying no heed to the snowstorm that whipped around them. Smiling, Norway rose to his toes and licked the cold tears off of Denmark's face. The taller man shivered in pleasure. They stared into each other's eyes for a minute longer, before Denmark whispered, "Let's go back inside."

Hand in hand, they returned to America's house. The party had carried on without them. Everyone was gathered by a large clock, waiting for midnight. It was 11:58. Denmark turned to Norway.

"Norge," he said, having to practically shout because of the noise that everyone was making. "I want to kiss you from 11:59 to 12:01, so I have the perfect ending to this year and the perfect beginning to next year."

Norway blushed and smiled. Just then the clock turned to 11:59, and as everyone cheered wildly, Denmark grabbed Norway and kissed him as hard as he possibly could, and Norway kissed him back, wrapping his arms around Denmark's neck. As he ran his tongue around the inside of Norway's mouth, Denmark marveled at what a wonderful kisser he was. I'll never let him go, Denmark promised himself. Meanwhile, around them, the clock had turned to midnight, and everybody was cheering and clapping louder than ever. The two continued to kiss until the time changed to 12:01, and then finally broke contact, panting. Their lips were still touching lightly.

Grinning, Denmark grabbed Norway's hand and dragged him down the hallway, grabbing a bottle of wine along the way. He wanted Norway, and he wanted him so badly. Still hand in hand, they hurried up the staircase, and into a room. Once there, Denmark shoved Norway onto the bed and opened the bottle of wine.

"Want some?" He nodded. Smiling, Denmark pressed the bottle to Norway's lips and tipped it back. Norway drank gratefully, then took the bottle and did the same to Denmark. The bottle slipped and a little wine spilled onto Denmark's shirt.

"Oops," whispered Norway. "Guess we'll have to take that off now. You don't want to wear dirty clothes, do you?"

"Mmm, no."

Norway pulled on Denmark's shirt seductively, and they rolled onto the bed in each other's arms.