How long had it been?

Most historians said 130 years.

130 years, 29 days, 3 hours, and 57 minutes.

Iceland had always kept track. From the second Norway stepped foot out the door of Denmark's house until the minute he came back, he would keep track.

Oh, and Denmark could call him paranoid and tell him to quit dwelling on the past and everything else that he could think of, but he couldn't get rid of the thoughts Iceland had, now, could he? Stupid Dane. Perhaps Sweden had been right to rebel against him all those years ago.

From time to time, Iceland would curl up on the couch with a pillow and close his eyes, letting Norway's near-emotionless voice wash over him. You'll be a very strong country one day, Island, he'd said. I will see that that happens.

Iceland had declared full independence from Denmark about a week ago.

Norway hadn't been here to see it.

No, he'd been in his own country, whining over the fact as by Nazi Germany. Hey, well, Iceland had technically been invaded by England and America and even he hadn't cried about it. He'd just scowled and then let them in. Perhaps he was still pissed at them (There were enough Danes over here as it was, and now Americans? They were worse than Danes if that was even possible), but he contained his annoyance as best he could, and, as he did, quietly sent a copy of the document that declared Iceland's separation from Denmark over to his brother.

Even though he hadn't heard back yet... Well, he was allowed to dream, wasn't he? Just a little. Perhaps Norway would loosen up a little and come by, perhaps celebrate a little with him, and help erase all the tallied days and years on the wall in Iceland's room. Maybe he could break the clock that had worked its' way into the new nation's head over the years; maybe Norway could hold Iceland like he had before, hold him tight, kiss him and tell him everything was going to be alright.

Maybe they could even sleep together again.

What? Of course that had happened. It was alright, wasn't it? It was alright, not against the law, for Iceland to at least hope, wish, and pray that Norway would come back and do that again? Thank god, thinking was not against the law; if it had been Iceland would have been sentenced to death.

Bu t no, Norway had not even been heard of for about 130 years, 29 days, 3 hours, and 57 minutes now, and Iceland was worried. Not like he hadn't been worried before this, of course. That was 130 birthdays Norway had missed. He hadn't even sent a card. Instead, Iceland had been stuck with Denmark, who, of course, threw huge parties that lasted hours and made the younger nation want to strangle him. If Norway had been here, it wouldn't have been that bad, seeing as Denmark then would have been strangled and out cold.

A knock, a shattered silence.

Who could possibly be awake at 4:05 AM? And, for that matter, why was this person at Iceland's front door? Could they read the Ekki inn sign he'd posted there? Iceland groaned and lifted himself up off the couch, rubbing his eyes, yawning, and growling softly at yet another series of knocks.

The sleepy nation gathers his blanket around his neck and stumbles to the door, throws it open, and is about to tell off the person standing there when arms wrap themselves tightly around his waist and he is knocked backwards onto the floor.

"What the hell?"

There is a chuckle and the sound of switch being flipped, and there was Iceland's stoic brother, his annoying, stupid, extremely anti-social, extremely handsome brother, with that stupid cross pin in his hair, with that sly grin on his face and nothing but utter joy and love in his deep blue eyes- Norway, dammit, the idiot who had been gone for 130 years, 29 days, 4 hours, and 7 minutes now- "God morn, lillebror."

The clock in Iceland's head is smashed to bits, and for the next 7 hours, he cannot think coherently.

"Bror."

He is awoken as the word rolls off his lips; Iceland's eyes fly open and Norway is in front of him, above him, a light smile on his face. "God morn, lillebror," he says quietly. They had fallen asleep on the couch, together, covered in more sweat than clothes.

Norway stretches, sitting up, his eyes running over his younger brother's now shirtless chest. "How long," he starts carefully, "Was I gone? How much did I miss?" He gets up and walks a few feet, staring out the window at the slightly parched and yet still green meadow in front of the house. "How long have I left you with...?" His voice trails off and his fingers clench the windowsill; he has not yet gotten over Denmark's betrayal all those years ago.

The younger nation is confused. He doesn't know, he realizes. How long has it been? "130 years," he says, yawning halfway through the sentence. I think, he adds silently. Norway sighs. "130 birthdays. Speaking of which, I missed your last one, did I not? It was last week..." He clasps his hands together above his head and turns back around. "Did he do anything to celebrate?"

"Of course he did," Iceland mumbles. "Some stupid party. It's like he didn't know how old I was." He snorts. "Yours' were always better." Norway smiles slightly. "I figured as much," He murmurs. "Either way, I have something for you."

Iceland blushes softly. "You didn't have to-" But Norway cuts him off. "No, I did. I've missed too much." He walks towards the door and picks up a small box that Iceland hadn't noticed lying there. He sits up on the couch, and Norway walks towards him, his cheeks turning pink as he did so. "I'm not so sure as to how you'll respond to this," he says, sounding a little nervous. "I'm also a little worried as to how everyone else will take it, but..."

He clears his throat and kneels, opening the little box and smiling up at his dear brother.

"Will you become one with me, Ice?"

Oh yey a marriage fic. Will Icey say yes? OF COURSE HE WILL. Lol. My precious OTP *Sobs happily*

Review?

With love,

-Haku