Norway accepted a complimentary can of soda offered to him as he entered the meeting building. Opening the container with a snap and a hiss, he followed the signs until the loud chattering and glimpses of strangleholds behind one doorway obviously signalled the future meeting place. He braced himself to speed through to his seat, briefcase tucked protectively under one arm, when France stumbled out of the room, shirt thoroughly rumpled and can in hand.
Upon fleetingly meeting the other's gaze, Norway dipped his head in silent greeting.
"Welcome to the madness," France sighed, straightening his jacket. He looked at his empty can. "The last thing we all need at a meeting is more sugar, but I suppose it comes with holding the gathering in America's home."
Sipping out of his own can to avoid having to reply, Norway just nodded and took another step towards the threshold.
Then he saw France about to toss the can in a rubbish-filled bin.
"Aren't you going to recycle that?"
France paused, looking back at him blinking. "I don't think there are any recycling bins in here." With that, he released the can.
It was snatched mid-descent by a lunging Norway. "I'll take care of it," he muttered hotly, ignoring France's confusion as he walked into the meeting room with a used can of soda.
"And that concludes our meeting," Germany announced, pushing in his chair.
With a sigh of relief, Norway stood, gathering his briefcase and the two empty cans. Hurrying to get out of the room before more fighting cropped up, he almost missed America at the door, holding open a plastic bag. Ahead of Norway, Spain tossed in his own soda can, which clinked into others inside the bag.
"Done with yours?" America prompted as Norway stepped through the threshold.
Norway squinted at the bag, half-full of lumps before most of the nations had yet exited. "Are you going to recycle that?"
America looked down into the bag. "Naw. The closest recycling place is, like, ten miles away, but we have a good dumpster just behind the building. It's half-full from the workers' cans, but there oughtta be room for these."
Suddenly America cowered under Norway's death glare.
"I mean… I recycle other stuff, so just this much is okay, ri—" He cut off when Norway proceeded to strangle him with his own tie.
Norway led the way stiffly as America dragged the aluminium-stuffed dumpster behind him.
"It's going to leave tracks in the ground," America said.
"Then pick it up and carry it."
America pouted. "That would make my back hurt more."
"It's only ten miles. Move it however you want as long as you can make it."
"You're fricking scary when you're angry."
"Keep walking."
A/N: Americans recycle 42% of post-consumer aluminium. Europeans, 52%. Just Norway, 93%. Thus my new Norway headcanon.