The first time Hong Kong met Iceland, it was because England had a meeting with Norway. England was concerned with Norway's recovery after World War II, though Hong Kong didn't see why. He should be more concerned with France. Or the Soviets. Or China. Norway wasn't affected as severely financially or socially as the others.
They were meeting in Holland, because it was convenient. Hong Kong and England sat at a café table in a calm and pleasant plaza, England prattling on about how dirty Amsterdam was, and how all the people were crooks and potheads. Hong Kong listened silently and pondered to himself what would happen if the Netherlands happened to overhear what England was saying about him.
That was when England stood, and Hon Kong followed suit. Obviously, he had seen Norway approaching. Hong Kong looked around, trying to find where Norway was.
Norway was a pale, blond man. Having recently suffered through World War II, his eyes were sunken and there was a pale white scar over his eye.
He was across the plaza from them, but Hong Kong could still make this all out.
Beside Norway was a younger man, who was obviously his brother. Hong Kong had heard of Iceland before. Maybe it was because Norway looked so diminutive and small in his post-war state, but comparing Iceland to Norway from that distance gave Hong Kong the idea that Iceland was about his same height.
As they got closer, however, Hong Kong rapidly understood his mistake. First of all: Mr. Norway was really tall. He was definitely over six feet, probably around six foot two. Second: Iceland was shorter than Norway, but that only got him down to about six foot. Iceland was taller than England, who in turn was taller than Hong Kong.
"Mr. Norway," England greeted him, shaking his hand. Norway nodded; Hong Kong took a bit of pleasure from the disinterest with which Norway took England's hand. "And Iceland," England added as an afterthought.
Hong Kong was intrigued by this informal greeting of the younger nation.
"This is Hong Kong." Norway nodded, still apathetic, and sat down. Norway and England sat across from each other.
A waitress came and asked Mr. Norway what he would like (England had already ordered tea and a small appetizer. Hong Kong had ordered tea, also). Hong Kong watched everything closely, but kept his interest concealed.
"Just coffee." Hong Kong was surprised by the deep timbre of Norway's voice. He had met Denmark before, but Norway's voice was much deeper than his.
"I'll pay for your lunch, if you want, Mr. Norway. No need to only get coffee," England offered, concerned.
Norway wrinkled his nose. "I'm not poor, England. I can't stomach this Dutch crap yet."
Hong Kong fought to hide his smirk at England being rebuked so roughly.
"What about you, young man?" the waitress turned to Iceland. Iceland glanced up at her, and the light glinted off his blue eyes—possibly, by the way, the bluest eyes Hong Kong had ever seen. How exotic.
"Just water."
Norway gave him a look, his brows slightly pinched together, which must have meant something to Iceland because he sighed, sounding harassed. "And clam chowder, thank you."
Hong Kong was very intrigued by Iceland.
Of course, they started dating.
They were both very awkward about it at first, Iceland being unsure of how to voice himself and Hong Kong having a similar lack of experience, but they tried to work through that together.
On weekends or days off, they might fly to each other's homes to sit and look at each other shyly, or maybe even walk through their home markets together.
Today, Hong Kong was visiting Reykjavik. It was a nice city, but rather too cold for him. Fortunately or unfortunately, Hong Kong had forgotten his jacket.
"I honestly don't know what you were thinking," Iceland shook his head. "You'll have to borrow a sweater of mine."
Hong Kong was not displeased by this.
The sweater was way too long on him, so he had to fold the sleeves a few times, but it was cute. Hong Kong certainly did not miss the flustered face Iceland made when Hong Kong caught him staring. Hong Kong smiled, self-satisfied.
They walked the main stretch of the city, bumping shoulders occasionally and smiling at each other. Hong Kong wanted to hold hands, but not be too forward.
"My hands are cold," Hong Kong complained.
Iceland looked down at him, looked at his hands. Hong Kong was quick to notice how his hand twitched, almost as if to reach out and grab his, before he snapped his eyes away.
"We should get hot chocolate, then!"
Hong Kong sighed to himself and followed Iceland into the next coffee shop on the stretch.
It was warm and cozy inside the little shop, and while Hong Kong liked the atmosphere, he would've been much happier out in the cold holding Iceland's hand, not buying some overpriced drinks. Would've been cheaper and more effective.
Hong Kong stood by Iceland as he ordered two small hot chocolates—not even one large one so they could share! Hong Kong huffed to himself.
He sulked as they waited for their drinks. It looked like he'd have to take it upon himself to hold hands with Iceland.
Ice put a heat sleeve onto the first drink before handing it to Hong Kong
This was his chance. Hong Kong watched Iceland put a heat sleeve on his cup. He was going to act natural, grab his hand like he wasn't even thinking about it (though, of course, he had been thinking particularly hard about it).
Hong Kong grabbed Iceland's hand and led him out of the café back onto the street. He played it off casually, and didn't let go of his hand when they got back into the flow of the street walkers. He didn't look at Iceland, either, but he could tell that Iceland was looking down at their hands, probably blushing. Iceland was so cute.
However, it was a little uncomfortable because Hong Kong's arm was in front of Ice's, and because of their height difference he had to twist his wrist backward awkwardly. Iceland was too tall to hold his hand like this. Hong Kong didn't want to say anything, but he knew Ice was equally uncomfortable. He didn't want to admit that Ice was significantly taller than him, either. It was demeaning to his pride.
Thankfully, though, when Iceland did pull his hand away a moment later, it was to adjust them. He put his hand over Hong's to grab it again at a more comfortable angle. Iceland smiled sheepishly down at Hong Kong.
Hong Kong saw himself as the more initiative of the two in their relationship. Really, there was no basis for this aside from being the one to instigate their first hand holding.
Iceland was just so sheepish and cautious. He was definitely not on to take charge, in Hong's opinion. Sure, he was taller, but what did that really count for?
It took them a long time to get comfortable enough with each other to become intimate. They kissed occasionally, sure, but only chastely, or even on the cheek or forehead—Hong Kong hated being kissed on the forehead because it only accentuated how short he was next to Iceland.
They hugged a lot, and now they held hands whenever they could, but it wasn't quite the 'intimate' that Hong Kong was looking for.
And that was really hard, honestly, because Iceland was so cute and kissable and Hong Kong really wanted to do just that, just kiss him and see how he blushed.
They were on the bus, returning to Hong Kong's home after a day on the town, and Hong Kong was staring at Iceland's profile. Iceland liked to stare out bus windows as they traveled, and Hong Kong liked to take advantage of that to look at him. He had a strong jaw. His eyes were still shockingly blue to Hong Kong. They say green eyes are even less common, but for Hong Kong having been raised by England, bright blue eyes were still more interesting.
They held hands as they walked from the bus stop. Hong Kong unlocked his apartment and let them inside, and Iceland went to sit on the couch. He sat curtly, his hands on his lap and his back rather straight. Hong Kong sat beside him.
"Do you want to make out?"
Iceland gave him a peculiar look. Hong Kong didn't change his expression.
"Yeah."
Hong Kong let himself smile a little, before leaning over Iceland and kissing him, maybe a little too forcefully, and pushing him against the back of the couch. Iceland's hands are on his shoulders, and there was some awkward fumbling, awkward tongue rubbing in unappealing ways, but they figured it out. Iceland sighed against his lips and Hong Kong felt smugness beginning to appear on his face, before Iceland grabbed the back of his thighs and hefted him to the side, so he lay back on the couch and Iceland was over him. They were both panting.
"Since when could you like, pick me up like that?" Hong Kong asked, dazed both from that amazing kiss and Iceland's sudden show of strength.
Iceland chuckled sheepishly, and breathed against Hong Kong's lips, "I think you're forgetting which one of us was raised by Vikings."