Warnings: possible OOC on both accounts; minor fluff, and implied Netherlands/Denmark and Denmark/Norway. Human names used. Also slightly a friendship fic.
Author's Note: Based off Denmark (nation) being the first country to legalize same-sex sexual activity (1933) and same-sex union (1989). Also, if you notice how it seems more like a love triangle, please understand that my own biases may have briefly interfered. Even so, I hope to have pulled through for fellow NethNor fans~. Feedback and criticism is always appreciated!
Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya-sensei owns Hetalia and all its characters; I do not.
When Netherlands had opened his door that day, he had never expected to have a Scandinavian greet him on the other side. Specifically, Norway.
A very, very melancholic and puffy-eyed Norway.
True, his relations with Denmark had been going quite well, regardless of how irksome the Dane could be. Otherwise, he rather enjoyed the time spent with the audacious blond: drinking, smoking, idling and the like. Honesty knew that he secretly liked indulging in their bold time spent; if time and countless memories of their own blacked-out trysts fortified those claims.
―the point being: he was really only accustomed to having the Dane as company, rather than any of the other Nordics.
Even so, not even he could find it in himself to simply turn the Norwegian waiting silently at his doorstep away. Not with those shivering, scarcely clothed limbs, or that averted gaze of lapis-lazuli. Not when there was trace evidence of previous tears upon cheeks now dusted with fair pink.
(Although, Netherlands supposed he could pretend the flush was due in part to the suddenly cold winds.)
Coughing into his suddenly curled hand, Lars stepped aside as he opened his door much farther than a crack; habitually looking at his wooden flooring while Norway looked up at him. For a fleeting, but languished moment, the much shorter blond made no move whatsoever, bitter winter winds biting at his back aside. Again, Netherlands supposed he was already used to much more freezing temperatures, but made nothing of his increased trembling when he slowly directed his gaze at him.
Briefly, did the sight of harrowingly vacant lapis-lazuli chill him; but again, he chose to push it aside once the blond finally stepped inside. It was only when he had directly walked on towards his kitchen and taken the seat near the stove, did the Dutchman realize exactly what had just happened.
Norway had come to his house, knocked on his door and was now warming up at his dining table.
Unable to keep a sigh from escaping his suddenly chapped lips, the silverette shook his head minutely before heading on over to the kitchen after he'd safely closed the door.
(He also supposed he should increment his dinner-plans so it could feed two.)
Mind diverted with more menial thoughts of how he had to finish washing dishes before setting on making the lunch, Netherlands failed to notice how lapis-lazuli eyes lingered on his busied form. From those pajama-clad, muscular legs erectly positioning him before his sink, or how his back looked more toned now that Norway looked at it without his cumbersome tan jacket to hide him. He watched as his scapulae flexed and dug naturally into his beautifully smooth, pale skin before poking out against the thin wife-beater he sported.
Norway knew he maybe should have stopped the sudden urge to lick his lips, but felt his current state allowed no room for clear thought and heeded the rapidly ringing warning bells no mind. He figured, he was committing no harm if he was merely taking in the beauty the Dutchman had to offer as he went about his day. After all, he had been the one to intrude without any notice; so, he felt inclined to oblige in remaining silent as the silverette lithely tackled his task, believing it to be the best course of action.
Inclusively, Norway also couldn't deny how much he was relishing each movement that subsequently caused firm, alluring muscles to peak out at him.
(That, he also felt a great inclination to indulge in.)
"So, what brought you here?"
The blond, reluctantly tearing his lapis-lazuli gaze away from his shock, hated himself a bit over how dark he was now flushing. Really, it was almost as if he had been attempting to steal a cookie from its jar, only to have Lars catch him in the act. He nearly scoffed at the thought. Even if the silverette had caught him staring, which he admitted was with a rather strong intensity, there was no way he would actually care―
Body tilting slightly in order for him to face the now red-faced Norwegian, Netherlands quirked a sharp brow as he caught his gaze once more.
"Noorwegen?" he called out inquisitively, stopping momentarily in his chore.
Clearing his throat as a sign that he was, indeed, listening and that he was preparing to answer, the Norwegian found himself rather liking the Nederlands version of his title. Certainly, he had long grown accustomed to the perky, whiny yet admittedly lovable calls of "Norge" from a certain Dane; but, this...
Netherlands found himself raising both brows at the sudden smile enlightening the blond's features, curious as to what brought it about but choosing to keep it a secret sighting. After all, he'd had Mattias tell him he himself had only seen those rare tilts of his lips only a few times. Which, from the almost perpetually-drunk Dane could it be seen as a rather lacking account, Lars knew Mattias was someone to trust in things like these.
Then again, it stemmed from the basis that the two had been seeing each other for quite a while.
(And, the silverette internally stressed: Denmark was always possessive, over relationships and otherwise.)
"I..." their was a crack in his voice then, one that rather frightened the blond more than he could ever like to ever admit. "Denmark was being an idiot."
At this, Netherlands couldn't stop the mildly amused look crawling its way on him; but, he immediately fought it off with his usually stoic expression when the blond avoided his gaze once more. He simply figured the Dane must have fucked up enough to have the blond refer to him by his nation name.
"He started saying that we..." a very tentative gulp and furrow of brow after, Norway finally concluded, "he said he was annoyed with how we hadn't officially "come out" together yet."
Norway frowned at the rather confused look he caught on Lars, his internal wish of him remaining silent shot down immediately.
"Really?" he questioned, the inquiry rather rhetorical and lucidly not meant to mock or hurt the other. "I've seen that idiot around us plenty."
When the blond heaved a sigh, Netherlands knew there was something that had yet to be said.
"I don't think I'm ready for that."
The Norwegian was more shocked that the Dutchman hadn't shown any shock towards what he'd said, than if he would haveexpressed it. In fact, he had been bracing himself for that same look -the one his Danish lover had given him- which was why Lars' (lack of a) reaction now made no sense to him.
"Then I'm sure Denmark would be fine with that." he stated simply and altruistically; seemingly, as if the likeness of this scenario had occurred to him prior.
And, frankly, Netherlands supposed it had.
Eyes initially widening significantly, the blond took a moment to allow his words to sink in, as well as his own thoughts. It wasn't like he had asked for this to suddenly spring on him, tender and kindred intentions in mind or not- Mattias had noidea what he was asking of Norway in order for him to have that marginal piece of mind. True, he had had relations in the past that he'd rather not confess to in this day and age; but they had happened and were generally lacking in the "love" department.
However, what Lukas felt for Mattias... he supposed it could best be described as "getting there", for what it was worth.
Once he felt he'd mulled the statement over properly, Norway quirked an eyebrow, curiously studying the Dutchman with an interested eye as he slowly piped up.
"W-what did you say?"
Lars furrowed his own brows, giving the blond a skeptic and intrigued look of his own.
Not ceasing once in his task of washing the dishes, he merely slowed down as he thought what he was to say over briefly.
"It's not like you have to label yourself, especially over these kinds of things." he finally replied, face yet to betray what he was truly thinking to the Norwegian.
Frowning absentmindedly, the blond succinctly ran a hand through blond locks, eyes not leaving the table once.
"That's easy for you to say." he preluded, an almost harrowing look on him as the dull ache along his chest from earlier throbbed vividly. "Maybe you don't have to, but whose to say others can't stand the idea of leading a life filled with nameless ideals?"
The Dutchman scowled a bit at the scenery outside the window before him, more than concerned when he heard the sorrow leaking into Norway's voice. Sighing silently as he dried his hands off with a nearby hand-towel, Lars finally walked over to the blond; both just then realizing his minute trembling when a strong hand on his shoulder and reassuring kiss stopped it.
In fact, it made him go so stock-still the Dutchman had to pull back swiftly in order to ensure he hadn't just made matters worse.
When he was greeted with the cutest flustered and embarrassed face he'd ever seen, the silverette happily smiled for the first time that day. It was more like a quarter-lilt of his lips, sure- but Norway flushed all the more at the sight.
"Then make a name for those that aren't already named yourself." he encouraged lightly, attentive of how hyper-aware and sensitive the blond was at this point.
"But, I can't―"
"If something matters enough, it can wait until you are ready to live with it." he interjected stubbornly, though with care.
Norway, finally realizing how close the Dutchman was at this point, forgot entirely of the earlier kiss and leaned back into the chair.
Even if Lars washelping -because he certainly was- it didn't mean he was simply going to melt in his arms, all scathing years-worth of troubles and worries forgone.
"T-thank you." the words shakily spilled forth, most of his face covered by his hand.
(Not like it was doing much to shield the fast-growing blush on him anyway, Lars figured.)
Regardless, he respected the Norwegian's lucid desire for space, and was already uncurling from his sudden crouched position when-
"D-do you think I could stay... just a little longer here?" Norway inquired, afraid he'd have to repeat himself in case it had been too muffled.
The years-worth of fear and conflict that had settled in him for days on end had dissipated marginally -but significantly so, even then- when the Dutchman had blessed him with another tender peck to the forehead.
"As long as you'd like." was all he was given before the taller male proceeded to finish up washing the dishes.
Lukas couldn't have been happier with the response in his dreams.