I don't own Hetalia! End/AN/
In the week that Iceland had joined them, Denmark had gotten used to a few things.
One of them was being awakened in the night by screaming. Another was not grabbing his battle axe every time there was this particular screaming.
A third thing was sharing the bed with a sniffly baby, and having to sleep frozen out of fear of rolling over on him. Norway seemed to sleep bonelessly, completely relaxed when Iceland was quiet, but Denmark couldn't relax at all if he was sharing the bed with Iceland.
However, one thing he hadn't gotten used to was slobber.
And it was this particular morning that he woke up to something wet clamping onto his finger.
"Gah, no, Ice!" He pulled his finger out of his mouth, complaining, "Suck your own thumb, you bastard!"
"No cursing!" came the call from down the hall, where apparently Norway was up and about and doing things.
Denmark gave the pink intruder a half-hearted glare. "Fine, I'll just call him a finger-stealer, how's that?"
"Better," Norway said, as he came in. Bags were under his eyes, but he was holding up fairly well, all things considered. He had adapted to a very parental role pretty easily, it seemed to Denmark.
Iceland began to cry, tiny curled fists forcefully pushing against the bed. It was a high pitched little sound, piercing through any and all barriers.
Denmark shoved his finger back into his mouth, wincing at the icky sliminess of it. "No, sh! No more crying!"
Norway let out a tired chuckle. Well, it was easy for him; there was no more crying and his digits were completely free.
Denmark sighed, saying, "He's an awful lot of work, you know."
Norway barely raised his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"
"I'm just… Well, you know, we're kind of young to take care of a baby, don't you think?" Usually, it was Denmark who came up with the daring ideas. Hey, let's go raid Ireland! No really, it'll be fun, and there are always lots of monasteries! Easy pickings!
But this time, it was Norway who had the idea, and refused to let it go. He gave a barely perceptible frown at Denmark, stating, "He's a baby, Denmark. You don't just throw them out when they're too much work."
"Well, I know, but maybe-" Iceland noshed on his finger with his gums, and it made Denmark stop. "Hey, it doesn't even hurt! Norway, baby bites don't hurt!"
"Tell that to a nursing mother," Norway murmured, though he came over and sat down on the bed next to them. He affectionately stroked Iceland's hair, adding, "He's ours, for better or worse. I know you're tired, but you won't regret having him around when he's old enough to reason."
Iceland's purply-pink eyes were wide, possibly with happiness, as he breathed heavily through his nose and chomped on Denmark's finger.
And they were pretty much a family, weren't they? Denmark yawned, trying to appreciate the moment. Ice was cute, and Norway was awesome, and yeah, he was tired… but that didn't mean he wouldn't be able to do this.
"Yeah, you're right." Not that there was any room for argument. "Hey, do you think when he's not all slobbery, he'll be able to ice skate?"
"I don't see why he wouldn't be able to," Norway said, pressing a kiss to the back of Iceland's head and inhaling the baby smell.
Denmark grinned. He already had awesome ideas for what he would do with a full grown Iceland…
Best not to tell them to Norway just yet. With that motherly look on his face, he was sure to forbid hunting and sparring forever.
Maybe slobber wasn't so bad after all, he reasoned, looking into Iceland's trusting eyes. Maybe a baby was one of the best things that could happen to them.
Iceland even began to grin at him, confirming that idea.
Though, what was that smell…?
/AN/ This was written in between essays and other work. I hope y'all enjoyed it. Gosh, I love little Iceland… I hope to update my other stories soon enough, but school has been insane.