Hi, I'm trying to write a NorSea (NorwayxSealand) fic, and I just wanted to see if I could. I kind of invented this pairing (because I love sailors suits so much) and discover that it could sort of work. This is just a babbling attempt, so please tell me if you like it and want me to continue! ^ ^

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"Oh, hello, Tino…" I said quietly as my friend's 'wife' opened the door. Tino wore a little smile like he usually did and looked quite happy. I imagined that he loved living with Sweden. His eyes widened a bit when he saw me, "Oh, Norway!" He exclaimed lightly, stepping aside for me to enter into their home. I nodded my thanks and walked in, trying to be wary of my actions. Tino closed the door behind me and I stepped aside for him to continue to walk down the hall.

"It's okay, Norway," He smile reassuringly, "Sweden's in the kitchen."

"Ah, thank you," I muttered and followed the petite man down their hallways and made a left turn into their kitchen. I noticed they had a staircase that led to a second floor on the right side of the hall. They had quite a big house, I hadn't realized earlier. I hadn't visited them in quite some time, I remembered. My steel-colored eyes scrolled left and I saw my friend Berwald sitting at the table, reading something. He looked up and saw me, setting the book down. As I try to bypass Tino, who was busying himself with cooking something, I saw a strange white fluffy object sitting on the floor quite motionlessly. Only when I approached closer did it move. It responded by yipping shrilly at me, and I recoiled lightly.

"Du'n w'rry," Berwald said to me in his deep, impossible voice. He accent was a little odd, but at the nostalgic sound of his voice, I remember how to understand him. Much like remembering the lyrics to a song you knew years ago. "D'ass jus' H'na-T'mago. Ah'r pet."

"Oh," I let out lightly, wedging myself into a seat to notice that the white fluff ball was indeed a miniature canine—probably of some toy variety, though I was not familiar with the breed in the slightest. After it had yipped at me a few times, it quieted down and curled up next to Berwald's feet under the table. I wondered if it was suspecting me of being an enemy.

Tino turned around to look at me with an optimistic smile, "Will you be staying for dinner, Norway?"

"I, uh…" I paused, "I don't know yet." I admitted, because I truthfully had no idea if our visit was going to last that long. Berwald had invited me over on the occasion that despite being neighbors, we hadn't seen each other in quite some time. So much had accumulated over such a short period of time and we were so busy with our own lives that we had failed to pay attention to each other. I had yet to meet him, but Tino had told me that they had adopted a micronation by the name of Sealand, and that they wanted me to meet him. Of course, that call had been made months ago, and I had failed to accept the invitation earlier, but we had made other plans and they finally aligned up on this day.

I heard a stream of loud stomps as a small blond boy in a sky blue sailor suit bounded from the stairs and nearly ran out the door. "PapaI'mgoingtoLatvia'sokay?" He said in a rushed slur.

"Peter!" Tino called, and the boy turned around, looking impatient but obedient. "Not so fast! Our friend Norway is here. You can go to Latvia's later, alright?"

Peter blinked and sighed a little, nodded and went in another room, where I heard him pick up something and speak softly into it. I assumed it was the phone, but I couldn't hear much else. "He's familiar with the Baltic nation, Latvia?" I asked Berwald, turning around to refocus my attention on him. He nodded, "T'no al'wys encr'ged him ta make fre'ns with ot'ar na'shuns. 'Nd tha boy La'via is close ta his age." He adjusted his rectangular-framed glasses and eased back slightly in his seat. "He's tw'ilv." He said, looking over at me.

"Oh," I let out, "What a young nation." And as soon as I had finished my sentence, the boy returned in the kitchen with a smirk on his face, sitting at the table I was, along with Berwald.

"So, you're Norway, huh?" He asked, kicking his feet under the table as he looked me, staring at my hat. Now that I noticed it, we dressed quite similarly, of course there were differences, but overall, quite similar. He was probably making this observation as well.

I nodded, "Yes, I'm Norway, and Tino and Berwald say you're Sealand?" I asked, just to see if he wanted to be called a certain name like some countries did. It was difficult to make sure you didn't anger anyone.

"Yeah, " He said with a nod, "I'm Sealand. My real name's Peter Kirkland 'cause England is my jerk-of-an-older-brother but I don't care about him."

I glanced at Berwald as if to say, 'Oh, he's related to Arthur?' I wouldn't have thought that, but now that I analyzed his face I saw his huge eyebrows—any trademark of a British colony. How I had not noticed that earlier was completely oblivious of me and made me feel rather foolish. He wore a huge smile and had bright sky blue eyes, obviously wearing his childishness like a badge. Sealand gave me an odd look and tilted his head to one side, "What's that?" He pointed at the stray lock of hair that just seemed to float near the back of my neck. "You've got one of those hairs like Italy…only…it floats!" He seemed to be thoroughly amused by this, though in a good way, and I could tell from his tone that he wasn't making fun of me.

"Peter…!" Tino called to him, in attempts to lay off the 'idiot hair' comments. Peter sunk back in his seat, giving an apologetic glance to Berwald.

"It's fine," I said to both of the boy's adoptive parents. "It doesn't bother me…It's just a piece of hair, Sealand." I said to the boy, looking nonchalant.

"I think it's cool." He said, grinning.

This boy was rather cute, I thought. Though I didn't voice my opinion in any sort of way. I kept a calm expression and didn't say much for the rest of the visit. It turned out that I did stay for dinner, and Tino prepared a Finnish meal for the four of us. Tino and Sealand were the heart of the conversation while my friend Berwald and I said little and paid attention. Sealand didn't seem at all uncomfortable that there was a guest disrupting the normal flow of things. I didn't know if I should feel relieved or not. Was he ignoring me or was he very confident? I assumed it was the latter, because he would glance at me on occasion. After everyone had eaten dinner, there was a group effort to help clean up the kitchen.

I nodded and thanked Berwald and his 'wife' for inviting me over and decided that it would be a good time to leave. I didn't want to impose on them anymore than I already had. As I headed for the door, I saw Sealand get on his tiptoes to ask Berwald something. He whispered something in his father's ear, and then let out a loud, "Pleeeeeeeeeeease?" I looked slightly confused, and Tino and Berwald exchanged glances for a moment.

"Ah, N'rway, See'lind was ask'in if he'cud see ya house…Wou'd tha' be a'right?"

I blinked for a moment. The boy wanted to see my house? Did I seem that interesting to him? I felt myself nod slowly, "Yes, that would be fine if he wanted."

"Yaay!" Peter cried and clapped his hands a few times.

"Peter…" Tino called as Sealand started to follow me. Sealand turned around for a brief moment to see what his mother-role model had to say, "Don't stay over too late, and be polite to our friend."

"I will!" He cried merrily as he followed me out the door. It was slightly snowy outside; I forgot it was already so late in the year. "Wow! Snow!" Peter cried avidly, staring up into the sky to watch all of the little white flakes float down soundlessly.

"Are you not used to snow?" I asked him as I took the path to my own home.

"No, I've only seen snow a few times before!" He remarked gleefully, racing up with me to keep at the same pace. "Back where I used to live, there was just this huge ocean and nothing else. I was like a permanent boat in the ocean." He laughed, "So it never really snowed."

Well, it hadn't occurred to me before, but with a country named 'Sealand', he'd probably have some sort of connection to the ocean. I had no idea where his previous house used to be, so I didn't know which ocean he was familiar with. "Do you like the ocean?" I asked him curiously.

"I love it!" He cried with a smiled, "The ocean is just so adventurous. I love boats too." He clapped his hands together and smiled, looking up at me, noting that it was now my turn to talk.

"I like the ocean, as well." I said softly.

Sealand smiled, "I wonder why I've never met you before, Norway. You're such an awesome nation."

"I think it's because we were all very busy, Sealand…" I said calmly.

"You can call me Peter, ya know." He said matter-of-factly, "It's okay."

I nodded, "Okay, then," I decided, "I will."

We approached my house, which was roomy, but not the size of my friend Berwald's house. There was a stone statue outside of my house, and Peter remarked at it. "It's a troll," I told him, and he looked confused. "They're stone in daylight, but they come alive at night." He looked interested, but still followed me into my house. Why did he want to visit me, anyway? Was he just that incredibly curious that he'd follow any of his parents' friends?

"Wow! You have a lot of neat stuff in here." Peter marveled at the small Norwegian trinkets and objects of small magical creatures I kept around. They lined mantles and sat in collections, Peter picked up a whittled wooden troll and held it with both hands, staring at it for a moment. He had rushed in before me, so I followed him to the assortment of other little wooden trolls I had carved in my spare time. "This is a…troll too, right?" He asked, looking at me for any sort of affirmation. I nodded, adding, "You can have that one if you want. I make them in my free time."

Peter smiled, "Really?" He chirped. This whittled troll had a long tail with a tuft of hair at its end and big ears with more wood-colored fur growing out of them. He had an elongated nose and claw-like feet, and I had carved it in a way so that it appeared that he was wearing overalls. Naturally, as it had been a creation in my spare time, I thought nothing of it, but felt a little embarrassed as Peter held it in his hands like it had been a Christmas present. "Thank you!!" He beamed, clamping one hand around it as he continued to follow me around my house.

'Why did you want to follow me?' I wanted to ask him, but I didn't. I just assumed it was natural curiosity for a similar nation he'd never met before. And though we were just acquaintances, Peter and I seemed to get along quite well. I sat down in one of the chairs in the main room of my house—quite near the door. We hadn't moved rooms, but I saw Peter poke his head into various hallways, just taking in the differences between my house and the house he was accustomed to. "Your house is very different from Papa's," He said to me in no certain tone. I'm rather bad at reading peoples intentions, and to make matters worse, I just met Peter. I wondered if he was insulting me in a way, though I doubted it. After all of the curious interest he had taken in me, I highly disbelieved he was bothering to make fun of me.

I sat in my favorite navy-colored chair and picked up the small block of wood I had started to carve a few days ago. It wasn't in any special shape as of now, but it was in a sort of distorted orb form. It didn't look like anything distinguishable, just a hunk of wood. Peter's sky blue eyes lit up when he saw the wood and pulled up one of the smaller chairs scattered in my living room to watch me. I pulled out a cutting knife from my pocket and glanced at him, one of the corners of my mouth turning upwards into a smile. "You like this?"

Peter nodded vigorously, "I've never seen someone carve anything out of wood like you do, I really like it." He told me with a smile.

Hm, this little nation seemed to have taken quite a liking to me. I appreciated his company and his excited optimism. It was a nice change from the quietness that usually resided in my house or the overpowering aura that Denmark carried with him. As Peter watched me with wide eyes, clutching the present I had given him in his right hand, I wedged the blade of the knife into one side of the piece of wood and pushed up, shaving some of the fibrous material off of its source. It fell to the floor, and I stopped paying attention to Peter's expressions as I continued to carve—it was my creative outlet and a way for me to think as well. What were my intentions towards this small nation—an adoptive child of my friends'. As I thought this, I remembered myself of the fact that, yes, he is just a kid. I am one of the younger Nordic nations, but Peter was one of the youngest nations as of yet. I could feel his warm smile directed at me. Was his newly found interest in the country of Norway just curiosity? I hardly knew the boy, so I couldn't tell…

That's all that was on my mind. Had I fallen in love with a child?

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I make Norway sound like a pedo. OTL Well, did it suck? Please tell me your opinions and tell me if you think I should continue this. Thank you for reading this, please read and review.