Title: Silver Cigarettes

Word count: 1,615

Characters:

Denmark - Mikkel

Netherlands - Koenraad

Pairing: NedDen

"I can't believe you still have this," Mikkel breathed with a laugh, holding up the plain silver cigarette case he had given his friend once as a peace offering. The Netherlands glanced up at it, lighting the bowl of his pipe with the same match he used to light the lantern in his basement. He inhaled the smoke slowly, let it linger in his lungs, and exhaled it just as slow.

"Yeah, I kept it. Dunno, thought i'd use it again." He shrugged his shoulders and brought the mouthpiece of the pipe back to his lips and repeated the process. Denmark grinned at him,

"I gave this to you in what? 1679? It was at the end of a war."

"The Scanian War, Mikkel, and yes, that was the year." Mikkel seemed stunned by the Dutchman's memory, rubbing the cool metal with his thumb. Netherlands continued to busy his mouth with his pipe, watching his friend titter with the case. It was an old cigarette case, nothing extravagant, and yet Denmark was so fascinated and intrigued by the fact he had kept the damn thing.

Mikkel turned it over in his hand, brushing his forefinger and middle finger against the engraving. Another smile came to rest on his lips. Koenraad sighed out his smoke and began speaking again.

"What? Why does it matter so much?" Mikkel looked to him, a nostalgic look in his eyes.

"You kept it. I gave it to you, and you kept it."

"So?"

"So," he began, "so you don't even keep everything Belgium gives you, yet here is something I gave you from a war victory in 1679." Koenraad turned his eyes away.

"It was special, I guess. You said you made it yourself and had Norway help you engrave it."

"Ja, I did."

"So I kept it. It meant something to me." Netherlands looked back to his friend when he chuckled. It wasn't something that was comical. He sincerely believed the cigarette case was something of importance. He loved the damn thing, if he were honest with himself. Mikkel shook his head, quietly apologizing for the rude laughter.

"It's not- I don't find it funny, Koenraad."

"You were chuckling-"

"I find it endearing," the Dane clarified. Koenraad arched a brow at him, dropping the pipe from his lips. A cloud of smoke came from his parted lips, and Mikkel had to wave his hand to keep it from getting in his face.

Though Denmark was expecting some sort of crude comment from his friend, one never came. In fact, he was greeted with nothing but silence from the other man. He frowned, setting the case down in its tissue paper to keep it from getting scratched. It might have been centuries since that thing was made and given as a gift, but somehow Koenraad had managed to keep it in pristine condition. It was a surprise to see.

"Koenraad, don't look so tense and angry with me now."

"I'm not tense and angry." The clenched tone said something different, and Mikkel fought back a sigh. He pressed on, "Why do you act like i've offended you? Did I? I didn't mean to if I did. I really do find it endearing. Out of all the shit you got as gifts in the past, it's nice to see you take care of something as insignificant as a cigarette case that probably doesn't even fit your brand."

"I don't care if it fits my brand, Mikkel, and no, you didn't offend me. I'm not angry. I'm not even upset. I'm...agitated."

"With me?" Koenraad turned his olive eyes on to his friend, shook his head, and sighed.

"No, not with you."

"Then with what," the Dane pushed, urging his friend to come up with some reason for his agitation. The Netherlands was sometimes harder to read than Norway, and it seemed that Mikkel's unwavering patience was beginning to wear thin. Koenraad breathed in more smoke and let it out in what felt like less than a second. Denmark noted the nervous tick.

"I'm agitated that after all these years, all these fucking centuries, you still haven't gotten a clue." Mikkel felt himself go taut with shock and forced himself to relax again. It wasn't often that Koenraad spoke to him in that annoyed, irritated voice he used when interacting with Spain. It only happened when the Dane was too drunk for his own good and tap-dancing on the Dutchman's final nerve.

"I kept it because it was from you. It was something you made specifically for me, and it was from you. I love that thing even if I can't use it."

"I don't understand, Ned, why does it matter if it was from me-"

"Oh my god," Netherlands replied with a raspy laugh. Mikkel paused himself from asking anymore questions, digging deep into his brain to comprehend anything that was just said to him. He felt like the answer was so simple, so in front of him, and he just could grasp hold and figure it out. He visibly deflated.

"Wait, Mikkel, stop. You're overthinking things." Mikkel looked back up at his friend. If the answer was clear, then he wished Koenraad would just tell him. He obviously wasn't going to be figuring it out any time soon. The Dutchman took another drag, held it for too long in his lungs, and gasped it out.

"Why do you think i'm always on your side? Why do you think I care enough to take care of you when your piss-drunk and crying about how much Sweden leaving the union still hurts? Why, for the love of some higher power, do you think I sleep with you all the time? And just you, Den, don't try to make it sound like sleeping around is my thing." Denmark sat silently. They stood there in tense company for minutes. Mikkel soaked in what was said to him, and Koenraad refilled the bowl of his pipe. Denmark looked at him with wide eyes.

"You care about me."

"Yes, Den, I think that was established when we became friends-"

"Nej, Koenraad, you care about me." The whisper of a smile on Koenraad's lips made his heart flutter.

"I knew you were smart, Mikkel," he said in a toneless voice. The smile that had just been there disappeared, and Mikkel found himself at a loss of words to say. He thought hard, opened his mouth, closed it, and turned his head away. His stomach was filled with butterflies, and the silence was hurting him.

Denmark picked the cigarette case back up, turned it over in his hands several times, and tried to figure something to say. Koenraad had said he was smart, hadn't he? Then why couldn't his smart brain come up with something to say? Anything would be good at this point, anything. He sighed, the noise startling the Dutchman and causing him to snap his head back to look. Mikkel had to stop his eyes from going wide.

"What?"

"What do you mean what?"

"Why did you sigh?" Mikkel had to think about it. Why had he sighed? There wasn't a reason for it. At least, he couldn't find one.

"I don't know. I guess it was too silent?" Koenraad snorted.

"Of course it was too silent for you." Denmark's brows knitted together, and he refrained from asking if that was some sort of insult.

"How do you feel, Mikkel?" More silence. The Netherlands just stared at him, quiet, and waited for a response. Mikkel looked at the cigarette case.

"I thought you knew I liked ya, Ned." Koenraad almost looked stunned. He looked as stunned as he would allow himself to be, and Mikkel couldn't help but laugh.

"I mean, I made this for you- I fucking cut open and burned my hand eight times making this thing. There might be dried blood on the inside-"

"Okay, Mikkel, I get it. Blood, sweat, and tears went into that." Denmark looked at him, smiled goofily, and tossed the case to him. Netherlands barely caught it.

"Use your hands often?"

"Sorry, it's hard to catch things with your shitty tosses." Mikkel pouted.

"Shut it."

"Make me." A mischievous smirk worked itself across the Dane's lips.

"I will." Koenraad wasn't allowed a moment to think over the phrase. In an instant, Denmark had moved himself closer, grabbed him by the shoulders, and kissed him hard. Like every single kiss they had shared, Mikkel was rough and bold. He was unafraid of any unknown consequence, and took his time in the kiss, being as thorough as he could. Koenraad was surprised by his overwhelming patience.

Their kiss ended gradually, neither of them knowing who was the first to pull away. It was over, and both males appeared silent. Mikkel found himself smirking again.

"I told you i'd make you." Netherlands berated himself for laughing.

"Ja, I guess you did."

"So are you done being cryptic, Money-man? Can you just tell me what you want so I can say yay or nay?" Koenraad arched a brow at him, moving his hands that seemed firmly planted on Mikkel's waist to hold his.

"You like people being blunt."

"I like people not dancing around questions and statements," the Dane corrected, taking the chance to squeeze Koenraad's hands and make sure they were real. The Netherlands looked towards the forgotten cigarette case, smiled briefly, and nodded.

"I want to date you."

"What if I say no?" The Dutchman looked back at him, amused, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Then you do."

"But I want to say yes."

"Then say yes." Mikkel smiled wide, nodded his head, and kissed him chastely again.

"Okay...yes."