At a Licorice Store
The smell of sweet licorice drew the Icelandic nation toward the candy shop as honey attracts bees.
Bouncing the brown, slightly damp paper bags in his hands, the silver-haired nation grunted in effort of balancing the groceries.
But then again, I guess it doesn't matter.Iceland sighed inwardly, having remembered that the Danish nation was cooking today. Quite frankly, he didn't exactly enjoy the taste of raw fish as much as the nation of Japan did; yet Denmark seemed to only have two options when it came to cooking.
"Stupid brother, if it's not browning then leave it for a while longer," Iceland gritted out, allowing himself into the warmth of the candy store. A little bell tinkled above him, echoing the sound of the nation's steps on the wooden floor. "And if it still doesn't cook, don't just take it off the stove and put it on the plates!"
The small nation expertly balanced the weight of the groceries on one hip as he wove his way through the shelves of sweet treats. Taking a quick glance at the price tags, he felt his eyelid twitch a little. Of course, he would have nobody to pay for him today. If Denmark had accompanied, Iceland would've been able to perhaps swindle a few coins from the Dane. But paying for himself would be a small price to pay for keeping his sanity intact.
"Fin told you last time," the Icelandic nation continued in his monologue rant whilst picking out packets of ink-black licorice, "that you could turn up the heat a little to speed up the cooking. But one doesn't cook meat with a blowtorch of all thingsand serve us pieces of carbon!"
Iceland wasn't used to lamenting out loud at home, in fear that Finland would hear. Finland was one of the kindest and most gentle souls he knew; yet the nation's consistent motherly naggings could get the better of him sometimes, even when he wasn't the object of Finland's nagging.
"Norway, please don't use vulgar language. It's very unsightly because you will have a bad influence blah blah blah…" Iceland pitched his voice, doing a cruel imitation of the Finnish nation before abruptly stopping himself. Blushing a little, the Icelandic instantly felt a wave of guilt wash over him. It wasn't in his character to be spiteful, but being so quiet around others, save for a few curt comments, meant he had to let all his bottled up emotions and thoughts flow out while he was alone. Sometimes though, he thought, Norway did deserve all the nagging.
"No, Norge, I do not see the green troll. You are a grown man and you will stop pretending to have fairy duels with hairy brows because all you two seem to do is silently goad each other for hours…?" Iceland muttered under his breath, recounting one of his many moments-to-forget-and-burn from assorted world meetings.
Paying no heed to Mr. Puffin's indignant squawk's of protest, Iceland proceeded to grab a packet of gummy bears from a neighbouring shelf. The flimsy plastic wrapping of the package wrinkled under the nation's clenched hands, as if Iceland were relieving himself of the fury and frustration his flashbacks had caused him.
The bed-headed boy casually waved away Mr. Puffin's squawks before wandering into the next aisle of shelves. He knew that his little puffin detested the chewy sweets for the reason that they constantly stuck to the insides or outsides of its beak before the bird could get even a single one down its throat. Personally, Iceland didn't fancy the strangely coloured fluorescent treats either. But…
"Ice?"
Iceland jumped, startled. Mr. Puffin gave an obnoxious squawk and flew in circles above Iceland before roosting on an all too familiar blond mop of hair. The animal's talons clinked against the Nordic cross barrette resting at the side of the man's head.
"You're supposed to be running groceries for that dimwit anko to cook, not entering licorice stores." Despite of the devoid of emotion present in Norway's flat voice, Iceland had grown to learn when his brother was having (or at least trying to, maybe) a light-hearted exchange with him. The faintest tug at the corner of the Norwegian's lips said so. The Icelandic was accustomed to carefully scanning his seemingly emotionless older brother, finding traces of happiness and lingering fondness for his family.
"I… I was just going back," Iceland stuttered hastily.
"And leave all the candy here?"
…dammit. Norway had him.
"You're paying though," the younger nation forced out, flushing from the effort of keeping his voice steady. There was going to be a price to pay for this, he knew.
"Hmm…" Pale fingers casually flipped through the packets of sweets. Iceland held his breath.
"You do know that I expect you call me onii-chan later on."
"…b-bring it on."
"In front of the entire family."
"Wha… I don't… no wa –"
"I see you bought gummy bears. I'll be taking those later." Norway seemed almost cheerful, as the packets were whisked from the Icelandic's grasp and away to the counter.
Iceland sighed, defeated, as he accompanied his older brother out of the shop, the bell tinkling overhead once more.
"You can have the gummy bears if Denmark hasn't poisoned us by then. I... did buy those for you."
"I appreciate the thought."
A/N: is trolling me. I don't know why. Maybe I'm just not patient enough :T You can read the FF here if the layout of the FF isn't coming out right! Once again, I apologize.
./t224-all-your-licorice-belongs-to-me-iceland-tryout