"Love is when he gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing."
~Torquato Tasso~

.uniform.

It had been a great day.

Norway couldn't help but let a small smile quirk up the corner of his lips as he watched the children's parade from the balcony where he stood with his superior. The man had decided to go oversee the children marching in the streets, holding the country's flag and grinning proudly. He had at first wanted to decline his superior's invitation to review the yearly parade, which all Norwegians took part in, but after pondering about it, decided to accept the offer.

He watched his people milling around, enjoying themselves as they chatted, ate and took pictures. He had traded his sailor shirt, hat and pants for the formal military wear that he donned only during important dates or formal global events. It had been old, being one of the oldest things that he still owned, but he still keeps it in good condition and with a few brushes here and there plus the help of the iron and a shining cloth, it looks good as new.

He likes to admit to himself that he looks pretty good in it.

It's important to him after all, this outfit. It had been the only thing of Denmark he had with him when his superior told him grimly that they would have to enter into a union with Sweden, and that he would have to move into Sweden's home. He accepted that reluctantly, but had been thrown off guard when Berwald spoke to him in that gruff accent that he still misunderstood sometimes.

"Jus' br'ng y'r cl'th's. Nu'thin' e'lse allow'd."

He had stood there reluctantly in Denmark's large living room, his two small suitcases packed neatly, not wanting to leave this place. He had tried to prevent war with Sweden, but it had become apparent that the nation would not give up and the odds were simply not with them. So he was here, having already said his goodbyes to his younger siblings. Greenland had simply huffed, but the tight hug that he received said something more while Iceland had just folded into his arms, crying quietly into his shirt before he had been forced to go meet with his leaders. Faroe Islands had thrown herself on him, demanding to know why he was going and the tears just wouldn't stop streaming down from her cheeks even as Denmark had plucked her off him and put her to bed.

He was still there when the tall blonde came down the stairs, standing quietly at the foot as he looked at Norway long and hard. Their eyes met each other, full of unspoken pleas and wishes as they stared at each other for the longest time, neither of them moving. However, the taller nation broke the gaze first, walking towards the table in the living room to pick up a small box that had been hidden under it.

"Here."

He had been surprised to find the black military outfit folded in the box, a completely new design from the one that he used to wear in battles beside Denmark. Looking up, he found the Danish nation sitting on the couch with his back facing him, hand thrown over his eyes and one ankle resting on the other knee.

"It's the only thing I can give you now to remember me by. You'll be forced to take off our ring on your finger; you'll be even happy to do that now. I don't think we'll ever be united again, so that's the only thing I can give you. I mean, Berwald said only clothes right? Well, that's the least I can ever do. But what am I talking about? You'll just forget about it, like you'll forget about our wedding ring eventually. You'll forget about me, except for the fact that you hate me, and Denmark-Norway only existed because your leader wanted it, not you."

The blonde on the couch had been so bitter about everything, Norway had wondered if it had really been Denmark after all. Cautiously stepping in front of the broken form on the couch, he took in everything before his eyes, and it hurt him.

The previous King of Scandinavia had been almost unrecognizable, and it was a miracle that Denmark was still able to talk to him. His heart closed at the broken sight of the blonde man who didn't seem like the Denmark that he used to be with, the loud, over-enthusiastic person who didn't stop laughing or smiling every single day. Right now it looked like a man tired of battle, tired of life, and most of all, tired of trying. He felt a lump in his throat as he set the box on the table and approached that man slowly, pulling his arms off his face to look at him in the eyes.

Darkened light-blue eyes once the color of the sky met his dully, and suddenly Norway realized that Denmark's eyes now looked like his own. He had given up, he realized; Denmark had given up fighting, given up fighting with Sweden, given up fighting with England, given up fighting for him to stay. He lurched back in horror, nearly falling off the small couch, but was saved by a pair of strong arms worn down thin from battle, but still warm from the big heart that he has.

He gave into the warmth, holding Denmark as tightly as he can, as close as he can, as the tears started streaming down his cheeks and he started crying into the tattered army uniform that still smelled of gunpowder and sweat. It's because he loves Mathias and simply, he didn't realize it till that very moment when he was supposed to leave. Denmark didn't say anything, but instead he had gathered him close and they had lay on the couch together; Norway trying to stem his tears while Denmark let his own slide down his cheeks silently.

It had seemed like eternity when Denmark made the first move; he had gently grasped Norway's face in his scarred hand and lifted it up to meet his face. After a long time of staring at him, like he was trying to engrave his face in his head, he had gently pressed his lips to his; and Norway had kissed him back. It had lasted forever, until the urgent knock came on the door, and Norway knew it was for him. Breaking the kiss with Denmark reluctantly, he had tried to pull away, but Denmark had pulled him tightly to his chest and kissed him one last time, one lingering peck on his lips before murmuring four sacred words to him.

I love you, Lukas.

He didn't have enough time to reciprocate that sentence, his boss threatening to break down Denmark's door if they didn't open it. Denmark had merely lifted him off the couch, set him back down on his feet, walked over to his bags and picked them up easily with one hand before answering the door. Frozen with the sudden inability to breathe, Norway had stood there, until the irritated voice of his boss drifted to his ears. Snatching up the box on the table, he wiped away his tears, and walked out of Denmark's house proud and tall.

He didn't miss the haunted look that had reclaimed the Danish nation's eyes as he turned his back on him. He hated himself for being so weak, for not being to say a response in time to the other blond man, who had openly loved him for over hundreds of years. Mathias had spoiled him, lavished him, teased him, and loved him openly, not caring less what his leaders said and not caring about the own coldness directed back at him. He could feel the guilt rising up in his chest again, like the day was just yesterday. The guilt of not being to say five words back to the man that took him a farewell to realize that he loved.

I love you too, Mathias.

"Hej, Norway?"

He was brought back to the present by the voice of his current leader, a man who was well into his fifties, with more gray than black in his thin hair. The man was eyeing him warmly, beckoning him to come closer to him as Norway quietly approached his chair and knelt down to his level, tilting his head to listen to what the elderly man asked him.

"That uniform…I've never seen it before. Is it from Danmark?"

He blinked before looking down at the black uniform, decorated with military badges and medals, and nodded, brushing his finger over the first one with a red ribbon that was closest to his neck, right over his heart. That was the only medal that the uniform had on when he had pulled it out of the box to admire Mathias' handicraft; the man might not be as good at carpentry as Sweden, but he could pull off a decent outfit. All Norway had thought about that time when he held the military uniform close to him and broke down was that it was from Denmark, handmade even.

He missed Denmark even more then.

"Ja," he nodded, staring at his hands consciously. However, he doesn't miss the smile that flashed over the stern face of his leader and looked up curiously to find the old man watching him with nostalgia written all over his face.

"Ah," the old man nodded, letting his eyelids droop as he waved all the other members of his family and the government off, indicating that he wanted to be alone with the nation. Norway continued kneeling quietly by his side, his eyes fixed on the streets that were now clearing out, the people getting ready for the night celebration.

"So the story's true eh?" Norway looked questioningly at his boss, who had settled comfortably back in his chair, watching the people milling out. He cocked an eyebrow at the gray-haired man, who shot him an "I-know-it" look, and he scoffed openly, not bothering about formalities now that he was alone with the old man. He stood up and leaned against his leader's chair, making himself comfortable as he watched the sun begin to set, sending out golden rays on the nation, on the soil that he so loved. After a few minutes of silence, the white-blond nation decided to open his mouth.

"What story?" He didn't bother to be polite either, instead choosing to stare into nothing, his fingers tracing the familiar red ribbon medal unconsciously.

"The story of love between the countries of Denmark and Norway, oh wait I should add the one-sided love story of Denmark and Norway during the time of the Denmark-Norway Union," the elderly leader smirked. Norway glared at him through his bangs, but his boss just laughed and continued watching the sun. "He was your husband for a long time, was he not?"

"He was," he shifted nervously in his position and turned to look directly at his leader. The old man had clasped his hands together to rest his chin on them, seeming to stare into nothing. "He was my husband, for politics sake, for people's sake, nothing more, nothing less."

"Liar."

His head snapped around so quickly to glare at the old man lounging on his chair, that his neck nearly cricked and he let out a soft groan at the discomfort that it caused. His leader looked at him properly for the first time, meeting his glare head on.

"You loved him; in fact you still love him now."

There was it. The raw truth lay out in front of him by his leader none the less. He chose to drop his head, letting his white-blond hair swing in front of his face, forming a protective curtain between him and the old man. There was silence for a few minutes before his leader finally spoke.

"I must go and change now, help me inside?" the voice was quiet and neutral, nothing more. Norway nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He eased himself off his chair and offered his arm to his leader, letting the elder grasp his cane and then his arm to help him inside. The journey was made in silence, both nation and leader deep in thought, the only sound was the cane clacking against the floor.

That night, Norway opened his door, deep in thought as he slipped out of his shoes and leaned them against the wall. He padded quietly inside the spacious house, raising his eyebrows at a sleepy Iceland whose head was stuck inside the fridge. His brother mouthed a "welcome back" before slamming the door of the fridge shut, his mouth full of red velvet cake which had probably been left by Finland. Throwing his arms around his blonde brother in a brief hug and planting a small kiss on his cheek, Iceland padded back quietly to his room on the first floor, chewing on his stolen portion of cake. Norway stared after him, a small smile on his lips before making his way up towards his bedroom.

He passed Sweden's and Finland's room, which was shut tight and he could faintly hear Sweden's snores through the door. He stopped in front of his bedroom door and tugged on his tie as he placed his hand on the knob and turned it gently, easing his lithe form into the room.

The warm light from the doorway washed into the room, onto a strong chiseled chest belonging to a larger figure settled comfortably on the king-sized bed. Norway let his eyes travel from his plain indigo-coloured floors, up the polished pine stand at the end of his bed, over the covers adorned with red, white and blue, up lean legs covered in black, up that gorgeous chest before locking with the bright blue eyes of his lover. He stared silently at Denmark sitting on their bed, letting those sky-blue eyes take in his attire as he walked slowly towards the attached bathroom.

"It looks really good on you."

Denmark's low voice broke the comfortable silence, and Norway reveled in the timbre in his lover's voice, so different from the upbeat, hyper tone usually adopted by the Dane. He tilted his head in the other blond country's direction, an acknowledgement to his compliment before slipping into the bathroom, leaving the door unlocked. He shrugged out of the uniform, letting it fall to the floor before stepping into the shower and turning on the hot water on. He saw Denmark's silhouette through the steam that clouded the shower cubicle, running his hands through his hair loose from his usual cross pin.

After cleaning himself with shampoo that smelled of violets and soap that is scented with hyacinths, he stepped out the shower into Denmark's warm, strong arms, which immediately threw a towel on his head and started drying him off. He stood there, eyes closed as he let the other nation wipe the moisture off his body and dry his hair, breathing in the musk and pine scent that was uniquely Denmark.

"You're not pushing me away," Denmark commented lightly as he fluffed up the ends of Norway's blond locks playfully before reaching for the hairdryer beside the sink.

"Mmmm," was all that came out of his mouth before the hairdryer was turned on and Denmark began drying his hair, running his larger fingers through Norway's blonde strands gently. After thinking that Denmark was having too much fun playing with his hair, Norway pressed his face into his lover's shoulder and mouthed "enough, you oaf" into the muscles there. Chucking, the Dane turned off the hairdryer and gently pushed the Norwegian off him.

"Dress yourself, darling, I'll be waiting in bed," the Dane planted a kiss on Norway's forehead before exiting the bedroom. Sighing, Norway picked up the red shirt and slipped it on, slipping on the clean boxers that his lover than brought in for him as well before running a hand through his hair, picking up his cross pin and exiting as well.

He set his pin on the bedside table and gulped down half of the water set there in a glass beside the jug that had a permanent spot on it before turning to see that his lover wasn't in bed. Instead, Denmark was staring at the black military uniform that he had picked off the floor of the bathroom and hung up, his usually bright blue eyes dim with faraway thoughts. Deciding that he didn't like the way that his lover was acting, Norway padded over to Denmark and slipped in front of him, sliding his arms around the muscled chest and burying his face in his neck.

"Come to bed, Danmark," he mumbled into the skin there, pressing himself against the warmth of the larger body. "I'm tired, and I need you."

"Hmm?" questioned Denmark as his arms wound around Norway's more slender, more petite figure automatically. "I was just thinking, thinking about how you still decided to keep this uniform, and still wear it."

"Of course I still wear it," groaned Norway in frustration. Why didn't his lover want to move? He nipped lightly at Denmark's neck, trying to distract him. Suddenly, he found himself swept off his feet, literally and soft sheets under him the next moment while Denmark pressed a small, chaste kiss to his neck before rolling off and arranging the covers around them.

"I really thought you would forget about it, you know," Norway's eyes snapped up onto the Dane's broad back as he worked to flip the covers out so that they could cuddle under them.

"I thought you would forget about it as well, maybe even throw it out. I haven't even seen you in it before, but man, you surprised me," the Danish nation continued to talk as he smoothed out the sheets before sitting still, his eyes fixed on the wall opposite the bed.

"You look wonderful in that uniform, Norway, beautiful even. I was breathless when I saw you in that. Most of all, I am so, so glad you remembered it," his voice grew softer and softer as his hand stilled on the sheets. "I'm so glad you didn't throw it out."

Norway blinked, and decided that he had enough of his lover's insecurity about his love. He literally yanked Denmark's face back to face him and forced his lips onto the Dane's, kissing him fiercely like the fighter he used to be. He did a jig of victory inside as Denmark reciprocated the kiss and pushed him onto the bed, locking his arms around the other blonde's neck and his legs around his hips, pulling him closer.

"Nor-""

"Shhh, Mathias," the taller blond stilled again at the use of his human name. Norway sighed, why did his lover have to be so sensitive? He carded his finger through the wild blond locks and pressed his lips close to Denmark's, speaking every word slowly and sincerely.

"I love you. How could I ever forget you? How could I ever forget your love? It took separation, 91 long years apart from you for me to learn of your love for me. I love you Mathias Kohler, and I wouldn't have it any other way," he ended his declaration with a long kiss on the side of Denmark's lips, lingering there as he felt the tears roll down his cheeks.

"Silly Lukas," his heart thumped at Denmark's use of his human name as the Danish nation pushed him back down onto the bed and kissed his tears away, pressing long kisses to his face as he cradled him gently. After a long while of kissing and mumbling of inaudible promises, Norway felt his lover press his face into his neck, and felt wetness there.

"Thank you for loving me back too, Lukas Bondevik."

They stayed like that for a while, Norway carding his fingers through Denmark's wild hair as he let the other nation cry for a while. He liked it, he decided, the feeling of being loved, and the feeling of loving another. Well, it took him many years to realize that, and he definitely wasn't letting it go. Screw the old man for seeing through his feelings, he snorted quietly into the lighter blond locks.

"Let's sleep, Lukas. You're probably tired after all that happened today," Denmark lifted himself up and reached for the covers, getting ready to tuck them in. Instead, he found himself yanked back by a rather uncharacteristically playful Norwegian nation and his mouth invaded by another tongue, teasing the sensitive spot on the roof as Norway coaxed him into a long, sensual kiss.

There were no other sounds but ruffling of clothes and soft moans as both nations fumbled to get their clothes off each other, seeming to want to glue their mouths together even when they broke apart to catch their breaths.

"You know," Denmark panted as he threw the shirt that had been on Norway a few minutes ago onto the floor, "Sve's gonna kill us tomorrow, and you're tired, and you might just regret this."

Norway merely glared at him. A few seconds later, Denmark found his hand pressing against the hard organ between his lover's legs and his lips claimed again roughly. He pulled away to breathe after another round of sensual kissing and quirked an eyebrow at the flushed nation under him.

"You'll regret even more if you don't make love to me tonight, Danmark."

A/N:

HEY GUYS. Prelims are over! YESSSSSSSSSS.

Just decided to finish up this DenNor drabble that was meant to be for Norway's Constitution Day! God I am such an ass! But so many DenNor feels, I needed to get them out.

Look forward to more updates! :D