"Would it be alright if I came too?"
The four older Nordics turned to look at Iceland with the same surprise that Iceland himself was feeling. Iceland didn't know what had possessed him to ask such a stupid question.
"You're underaged. They wouldn't let you in," said Norway. After his initial look of shock, he'd schooled his face into a blank mask and gave away nothing about how he felt about this.
"Plus, you'd kind of cramp our style," said Denmark. He pinched one of Iceland's cheeks before Iceland could escape. "You're so baby faced, and all."
"Ouch! Let go!" Iceland batted Denmark's offending hand away. "Fine. I didn't really want to come anyway."
"Then why'd you ask to come?" Denmark smirked at him.
"I have no idea." Iceland really didn't. Because he really did not want to spend time with the older Nordics. They . . . well . . . they weren't his friends. Family, yes, friends no. Not by any stretch of the imagination, even though Iceland sometimes wished they were.
Iceland made it his policy to be honest with himself, even though he had no qualms about lying to anyone else. And if he was honest with himself, he'd always been a little envious of the elder Nordics and the relationship they had with each other. They'd paired off into best friends: Sweden and Finland, and Denmark and Norway, but at the same time were comfortable and on good terms with the others, despite the differences in their personalities and the arguments they'd had in the past.
But Iceland . . . Iceland was everyone's little brother but no one's good friend. Even though Norway was his only real official brother, the others all saw him as their kid brother too. Even though he was a teenager now, he was still treated like a tagalong, like a child, and even though he'd tried to get them to see him differently, it never worked. Whenever he was with them he was immediately relegated to the role of the annoying one, the one at the bottom of the pecking order, as the youngest. That was why he hated spending time with them, so why he'd just asked to prolong his torment . . .
He supposed he'd been swept up in the camaraderie of being one of the Nordics at the world summit meeting. All the nations had their cliques and groups and friends and some groups were just cooler to be a part of than others. And being one of the Nordics was definitely very high on the list.
And the meeting had been unusually productive, with the Nordics and Netherlands presenting a united front on several complicated issues regarding tourism in Northern Europe. Iceland had even gotten a chance to talk for a change, and had been prepared, able to make insightful points and answer questions that had been meant to intimidate him and weaken their argument as a whole. The other Nordics had all been beaming at him, or smiling at him, or in Denmark's case, loudly cheering him on. Even the Netherlands, who wasn't one of them and didn't like many people, had given him a broad smile, then shouted at Austria to shut up when Austria had attempted to talk over Iceland. Norway had even seemed proud.
But now the meeting was over and he wasn't a dignified nation anymore. Nope, now he was just the annoying little brat that they all wanted to call them "Big brother" but didn't want to ever hang out with. The bastards.
"You may order room service if you wish," said Norway as Iceland turned to stalk away. "For dinner."
It was a peace offering, Iceland knew, but it annoyed him more than anything else. He didn't want any freaking peace offerings. He didn't want them pretending like they actually cared about what he was going to do this evening. Not when they were heading off to go clubbing and wouldn't think of him again until tomorrow when he had to wake them up for another fun filled day of meetings.
"Whatever," Iceland told his brother. Mentally, he vowed to go to a restaurant, and one on the other side of the city at that. He recognized an attempt at trying to keep him cooped up in his room when he saw it.
"Hey, don't be like that, Ice!" Denmark called after him. "In a few centuries you'll look old enough to come with us. Honest."
Iceland ignored him. Denmark was such an idiot. He didn't see how Norway could stand him. Then again, Norway didn't have to deal with so much ridicule and condescending remarks just because he'd had the misfortune of being born last. Such was Iceland's lot in life.
And the others all wondered why he didn't want to call them "big brother."
Two hours later found Iceland wishing that he had just stayed in his motel room and ordered room service. It was getting late, he was lost, and he didn't speak enough Spanish to ask anyone for directions. Even worse, he seemed to have attracted the attention of some thugs a few years older than he himself appeared to be. The teenagers had been following him for a couple blocks now, staying back a discreet distance at first, but recently they'd begun to get bolder and venture closer.
Nothing looked familiar. In fact, the further he went, the more run down and decrepit everything looked.
Iceland was starting to get scared. Not that he'd admit it to anyone other than himself.
He had his cell phone and he knew that he could call for help if he needed to. Interrupt Norway's evening of clubbing to make him find a translator and send a cab to come pick Iceland up, assuming that cabs even came to this part of the city. Iceland wouldn't have been surprised if they didn't. But even so, his pride stopped him from calling on his big brother for help. He wasn't helpless. He would find his way back to the motel on his own.
That's what he kept telling himself, right up until he walked into a dead end alley and turned around to find himself boxed in by the older-looking teenagers that had been following him.
He didn't understand what the teen who seemed to be the leader said to him, but he could tell by his tone that it wasn't good.
"I don't want any trouble," Iceland said in English. "Just leave me alone."
They must have understood him, at least partway, because they laughed at his words. One of them stepped forward and lifted a piece of Iceland's silvery-white hair. So naturally, Iceland punched him in the face.
Iceland wasn't very much of a fighter. He had no training and no standing army. He didn't even know how to load a gun. As far as nations went, he wasn't exactly capable of defending himself from any real attack, and it showed in his natural abilities. His punch probably broke the first teen's nose, but two more of them overpowered Iceland, each grabbing one of his arms and holding him trapped between the two of them. When Iceland tried to break free and found himself unable to, he knew he was in trouble.
The first punch struck him in the stomach hard enough to take his breath away. Even as he gasped and wheezed more blows began raining down on him as the street kids took revenge. Every hit brought more pain, and more than a few of them drew blood, especially the ones that connected with his face. Blood dripped into his eyes and his vision started to dim as a punch connected with his temple, but Iceland managed to cling to consciousness long enough to give cry out one plea, not even really paying attention to his own words, just calling out on instinct.
"Big brother! Help me!"
Prussia was bored.
And that was a most unawesome feeling.
Normally he'd be out partying with France and Spain, but since Spain was hosting the meeting he was too busy to go out and have fun, and France was off harassing England and America. Germany was off with Italy, thus leaving Prussia to his own devices for the evening, and damn if he wasn't bored out of his mind.
He could have tried to find some other nations to hang out with, but frankly, there weren't many he could stand being around, what with all their stupid comments about his current ex-nation status (a temporary condition, he could assure them) or their general bitchiness, like all those damned Allies.
That was how Prussia found himself taking a walk around one of the more run down parts of Madrid that evening, killing time, and wishing for something interesting to happen that would break up the monotony of his life, because more and more he found himself realizing that his old friends had other duties or other things they'd rather being doing than hanging out with him. And it kind of stung, but Prussia wasn't so damn codependent on them that he'd let it get him down. No, not the awesome Prussia. He was more the kind to figure out a way to have an awesome time without them and make them wish that they had been hanging out with him instead of doing whatever lame activity they'd been doing.
When he saw the group of street teens ganging up on a smaller teen and beating him down, Prussia had no plans to interfere, not at first. He wasn't like America with his lame hero complex and his obsessive compulsive need to defend the weak. Some people were stupid and deserved to get beaten up, Prussia had always reasoned. Quite often, he'd been one of those who'd administered the beatings.
But when he got a better look at the teenager on the wrong end of the beating, he stopped and frowned. That hair color . . . silvery white wasn't a common hair color anywhere, let alone in Spain. In fact, Prussia had only met three people other than himself who had that hair color, and two of them were long since dead. The third was another nation, and one about the same age as the person being beaten up.
"Big brother! Help me!" The scream confirmed it and had Prussia sprinting into action. He knew darn well that it wasn't him who Iceland was screaming for, but since none of the other Nordics appeared to be on hand, Prussia would have to do. He wasn't about to just stand by and watch a nation he didn't loathe, or another albino beaten up. Prussia had actually never had any problem with Iceland. In fact, for a point in time, around World War II, he'd been very interested in having Iceland come stay in his house. It had never escaped his notice how much Iceland looked like him, and he'd thought it might be possible that Iceland was actually his little brother, rather than one of the Nordics'. At the last Prussia had heard, it had been confirmed that Norway was Iceland's official sibling, but no matter. Iceland was still an albino, which meant that Prussia wasn't going to stand by and watch him get beaten up by a bunch of street punks.
He entered the fray with a flying kick that connected with their leader's face. A satisfying crunch filled the air as he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Next Prussia took down the two thugs that were holding Iceland's arms, dropping them with throat strikes and catching Iceland by the front of his shirt before he could fall to the ground.
"Kesesese! Fear not, little Iceland! The awesome me has arrived!"
Iceland didn't answer, and Prussia realized with a little bit of concern, that he wasn't conscious. No matter. Prussia tossed the small teen over his shoulder in a fireman's carry even as he spun to plant his boot in another street teen's face.
It was over very quickly. Half a dozen teenage street punks were no match for an awesome ex-nation like Prussia, who'd survived from the Dark Ages by fighting his way through life. Even with the burden of an unconscious young nation draped over his shoulder, Prussia was still too awesome for those pathetic thugs to even touch. They seriously should have fallen to their knees and started worshiping him the moment he entered their presence, tongue cleaning his boots and chanting repetitiously how they were not worthy. If they had done that, they might have saved themselves the painful beatdown Prussia had administered.
Iceland was stirring a little as Prussia slid him back down into his arms and carried him bridal style back to one of the main roads, deciding now would be a good time to head back to the motel since he didn't think Norway would approve of him taking Iceland to the strip club he'd been planning on hitting up. Not that he really cared what the stupid Norwegian thought, but hey, Iceland might need medical attention.
"Take it easy, kiddo," Prussia told him as Iceland gave a low groan.
"Big brother?" Iceland asked groggily.
Prussia felt a pang at being addressed that way, even though he knew that it wasn't him Iceland was giving that title to. For a moment he felt a bit nostalgic, remembering how cute West had been, and how nice it had been to have someone call him that. How nice it had been to have someone look up to him. "Nope. Someone more awesome than that," Prussia told Iceland.
Iceland tensed in his arms then slowly opened his eyes. He blinked several times at Prussia, like he wasn't sure how he could possibly have been rescued by someone so amazingly cool, every inch of his face covered with surprise. "P-Prussia?"
"The one and only. Kesesese!" Prussia laughed.
And maybe it was just his imagination, but Prussia would have sworn that for a moment Iceland looked scared. Poor kid was probably too in awe of his awesomeness. Admittedly, it was a lot for someone to take in.
"Y-you saved me?" Iceland blinked rapidly as blood dripped into his eyes and he winced.
"You bet I did."
"Why?" Iceland wanted to know.
Prussia snorted. "What kind of question is that?"
Iceland cringed. He actually looked scared, but he wasn't fighting for Prussia to put him down, which Prussia took as a good sign.
"Why would you help me like that?" asked Iceland. "We're not friends. I've never even spoken to you before today, so why would you help me like that?"
"Because I'm just awesome like that. You're welcome by the way," said Prussia.
Iceland looked at him furiously. "I didn't need your help!"
"Which was why you were screaming for help, huh?"
"I wasn't calling to you!" Here Iceland's voice cracked and he looked away.
"Yeah, I know, but your brother wasn't there to save you," said Prussia. "Where is he anyway?"
"Hell if I know."
"Did you get lost? Or separated from him?"
"I was lost, but I didn't go there with him," admitted Iceland. "I went there by myself. Put me down."
Prussia stopped and lowered Iceland carefully to the ground. He stayed close by as Iceland tried to take a step then doubled over and nearly fell.
"Hey, hey, hey. Careful. You're okay, you're okay," said Prussia, feeling a little bad as Iceland struggled to breathe. "You probably have a few cracked ribs, is all."
"It hurts," Iceland wheezed with tears in his eyes.
Aw, damn.
Prussia had always been a sucker for tears. All it ever took was a glassy eyed look from a much younger Germany, and Prussia had caved to whatever he'd wanted.
"Hey, it's okay," Prussia said. He carefully put a hand on Iceland's back. "I can carry you. It's no big deal."
Iceland looked like he wanted to argue but didn't say anything when Prussia carefully lifted him off the ground again.
"It's quite a walk," Prussia said, because not saying anything was too awkward. "It would take us about an hour to get back to the hotel. But in a few blocks we'll be back on the right side of the tracks and I'll get us a cab. Sound good?"
Iceland nodded, still looking miserable. Tears were falling slowly and silently down his cheeks and Prussia felt himself growing more worried.
"Does it hurt that bad?"
He hadn't thought Iceland was that injured, but maybe he needed to take him to see a doctor after all.
"No." Iceland sniffed.
"Then what's wrong? You don't have to be scared anymore, you know."
"I know." Iceland squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm just an idiot."
"Why do you say that?" asked Prussia.
"Because me getting beat up was my own stupid fault," Iceland told him. "I was mad that the other Nordics wouldn't let me go clubbing with them. So I decided to go do something on my own. And I walked until I got lost. Then I got beat up by a bunch of humans. I'm so stupid."
"No, you're not. And that is a divine declaration made by the awesome me," Prussia told him. "Trying to argue against it is useless. You're not stupid, Iceland. And plenty of nations wouldn't be able to fend off six humans. Hell, that cocksucker Austria couldn't even fend off one. You're pretty tough holding out against six."
Iceland blinked, and a little bit of hope lit his eyes.
"You've never had any training in fighting, have you?" asked Prussia.
"No," Iceland admitted, his face falling again.
"When you get home you should enroll in some kind of class. Preferabbly some sort of martial art native to your country. Like Viking raiding 101 or something. As a nation, you have a natural affinity for the skills that your people specialize in," explained Prussia.
"I didn't know that . . ."
Prussia fought back a scowl. Norway should have told him that. Someone should have told him that. But then, Prussia remembered, Iceland hadn't been his own country very long. He'd only declared independence from Denmark near the end of World War II. The other Nordics had probably wanted to keep him dependant on them, prior to that. They'd probably never told him so that it would be easier to keep him at their places back then, and knowing how preoccupied they could be, it probably hadn't even occurred to them to tell him any time since.
"Yeah, well, when you're around as long as I've been, you pick up on a few things," said Prussia. Something else occurred to him that nearly caused him to shake his head in disgust. Iceland probably didn't even know how to shoot a gun. Some big brother he had.
Iceland didn't say anything for awhile. Not until after Prussia had gotten them out of the shady part of Madrid and to a place where he could get a taxi. Not even during the ride back to the hotel. He only spoke again when Prussia went to pick him up.
"I can walk," Iceland insisted.
Prussia nodded, understanding. Iceland didn't want to risk anyone seeing him being carried. It would be too humiliating for him. "I'll be right here if you need someone to lean on."
Iceland actually took him up on that offer. He managed to make it through the lobby on his own, and to the elevator, but once inside he slumped against Prussia, clearly in pain and exhausted. Prussia pushed the button for the fourth floor.
"My room's on the sixth floor. Can you hit that button too?" asked Iceland.
"Nope," Prussia told him.
Iceland made a whining noise and gave Prussia an exasperated look.
"You're coming to my room first," Prussia told him.
Iceland's eyes widened and he shook his head. Then he seemed to regret it as it must have brought on a wave of dizziness because he clutched his head with both hands. "I'm not going to your damned room."
"Actually you are."
"No I am not!" Iceland stumbled a few steps away from him.
"Sorry, boy, but you're a mess," said Prussia. "And I'm betting you don't have anything to clean yourself up with in your room."
Iceland scowled. "I have a washcloth, I'm sure."
"What about bandages? Bruise cream? Superglue?"
"Superglue?"
"You can use superglue to close cuts that you'd normally need stitches for," said Prussia. "Believe me, I know. And I've got a first aid kit in my suitcase. As many brawls as Spain, France, and I get in, it's kind of necessary."
"I'm not going to your room and that's final."
The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor. Prussia scooped Iceland up and started walking. "Yep. We'll see about that."
"Put me down!" Iceland hissed, struggling this time. "I'll scream! I'm not – you can't make me – I mean . . . If you touch me, I'll kill you. I don't care how badass you are or how many wars you've fought, I will kill you if you touch me."
"Whoa, wait, what?" Prussia glared at him. "You're mistaking me for France or Spain."
"You three are best friends," growled Iceland.
Prussia guessed that it did stand to reason that he'd be like them, but still, hearing someone imply that was kind of insulting. "I'm not into kids or guys," said Prussia. "Especially not skinny little anemic Nordics with lots of annoying relatives. I'd need my own country and army if I wanted to fight any wars against Vikings."
Iceland seemed to calm down as he considered this, probably considering what the global scale consequences would be if Prussia were to try assaulting him. He seemed to realize that he was safe enough and didn't fight Prussia anymore as Prussia carried him to the room he was sharing with Germany.
Germany wasn't back yet, which was just as well. Prussia didn't need his little brother hovering over him as he patched Iceland up, trying to convince him to take the kid to the hospital for stitches instead of superglueing his cuts closed and other annoying things like that. Prussia set Iceland down on one of the twin beds then moved to his suitcase.
"Stay there a sec, okay?" said Prussia as he tried to find the first aid kit.
"'Kay," agreed Iceland.
After finding the kit, Prussia went to the bathroom and wetted a washcloth, and also retrieved one of the hand towels. He brought them back and pulled up a chair in front of Iceland so they were at the same eyelevel. "This is probably going to sting . . ."
Iceland's face wasn't as bad as it could have been. A split lip and eyebrow, a black eye, and a bruise along his jawline and another on his left cheekbone. Once he'd swabbed away all the blood Iceland looked much better, at least compared to how he'd looked when Prussia first found him. But . . . well, he was still a far cry from looking like he was okay. Prussia glued shut the cut over his eyebrow since it wouldn't stop bleeding, but the cut on Iceland's lip wasn't bad enough to need special attention. After putting cream on Iceland's bruises, Prussia decided that he'd done all he could for Iceland's face, and had to broach what could prove to be a delicate subject.
"Your cracked ribs need to be wrapped. I can take care of that for you, if you want, but it'll be easier to do if you take your shirt off."
He saw Iceland's purple eyes darken with suspicion.
"If you don't want me doing it, you can get that Sweden guy to do it for you. I know he knows how, and he doesn't say enough to make a big deal out of anything."
"Might as well get it over with," muttered Iceland. He struggled to get his jacket and shirt off. Prussia would have offered to help him, but had a feeling that would do more harm than good, and that Iceland would clam up and refuse his help altogether then. He really needed to remember to thank France and Spain for making everyone think that he was a pedophile by association with them.
"Alright," said Prussia once Iceland had managed to detangle himself from his shirt and jacket. "I'm going to spray this over your ribs, and it's going to feel kind of hot and cold at the same time. Maybe a little weird, but it'll numb the pain. Then I'm going to wrap them with this ace bandage. Try to relax, okay?"
Naturally, that just made Iceland tense up, but there was really nothing Prussia could do about that. But Iceland relaxed a little bit when Prussia went to work, and he realized that Prussia wasn't doing anything perverted to him. He didn't cry or flinch, which made it easier for Prussia to treat him, and before they knew it, Prussia was finished.
"There. Done," said Prussia. "Feel alright?"
"Yeah," muttered Iceland. "Thanks."
"No problem, squirt."
Iceland glared at him. Prussia smirked and went back to his first aid kit. He tossed Iceland a bottle of painkillers.
"These are your friend."
Iceland frowned at the prescription label that was written in German. "Norway'll get really mad at me if he finds out I took drugs that were prescribed for someone else."
"Then don't take them. Wallow in pain. Because you know that's what your dear brother wants."
Iceland scowled. "How many do I take?"
"I take two, but that might be a little much for someone as scrawny as you."
"I'm not scrawny!"
"You should probably just take one since you weigh about half as much as me, soaking wet."
"Screw you! I'm taking two!"
"No, you unawesome little twit! I said take one!"
Prussia wrestled the bottle from Iceland's scrawny hands, opened it, and tipped one into his palm. Then he held it out to Iceland. "Can you take it dry or do you want a beer?"
"Now you're suggesting I mix alcohol and someone else's prescription medicines?"
"I guess I can get you some water if you want it," Prussia sighed.
"I'll take it dry," insisted Iceland, and quickly swallowed the pill.
Prussia packed away his first aid kit then took the bloody washcloth into the bathroom. "You want to go back to your room now?" asked Prussia when he came back out.
"Yeah, I better," said Iceland. "I can walk," he said when Prussia moved to pick him up again.
Prussia walked beside him back to the elevator, and this time hit the sixth floor button so that Iceland wouldn't have to reach up for it. He walked Iceland back to his room and helped him unlock it when Iceland fumbled clumsily with his card key.
"You need anything else, kid?" asked Prussia, holding the door open and watching Iceland slowly make his way into the room. The room had two twin beds and a rollaway, Prussia noticed, and guessed that meant Iceland was sharing it with Norway and someone else. Probably Denmark. And Prussia was pretty sure he knew who got the crappy rollaway bed.
His guess was proved right when Iceland crawled onto it and slumped onto the mattress.
"Yeah . . . what's a good excuse for my face looking like this?" he asked.
"Just tell your brother that you walked into a door," Prussia suggested.
"And the door split open my eyebrow, busted my lip, blackened my eye, and bruised my jaw all at once?"
"Your cheek too," reminded Prussia.
"He'd never buy that."
"Huh. Okay, how about say you fell down the stairs?"
The look Iceland gave him before shutting his eyes was unamused.
"He's going to know the minute he gets a good look at you," said Prussia. "Anyone who sees you is going to know you got beat up, no matter what excuses you make."
"Don't tell anyone," begged Iceland. "I'll just skip the meeting tomorrow. I don't want the whole world knowing."
"I won't say anything," Prussia assured him. "You don't need to worry about the rest of the world finding out from me."
"Thanks Prussia," Iceland said as he pulled the covers over himself. "For everything."
A wide smile spread over Prussia's face. "If you're thankful then get down on your knees and worship my awesomeness!"
"I'm not that thankful, you idiot!"
"Well aren't you an ungrateful little brat," teased Prussia. "I'm so offended, I'm just going to leave."
"Hurry up and go, then! And turn off the damn light."
Prussia flipped the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. "Feel better, sprout."
"Stop calling me stupid names!"
This idea just kind of popped into my head, and I'm not sure where it's going to go, or if it's going any further. I might just leave it as a oneshot. But if you have suggestions please let me now. :)