The Tip of the Iceberg

Characters: Uh, the whole world? Or something like that. Iceland, Denmark, Netherlands, Fem!England and Fem!Norway in this one.
Pairings: ...Let's just stick with Denmark/Fem!Norway and Iceland/Fem!Norway. Final pairing will be Ice/Fem!Nor. If you don't like it, then... well. You've got a while. Hints at (Well, more like blatantly obvious mentions of) past Fem!Russia/Fem!Nor, Fem!France/Fem!Nor, and Denmark/Fem!England.
Rating: M. It's high school, and I'm portraying it as realistically as possible while still making it story-shaped. So yeah, M.
Genre: Romance
Warnings: LANGUAGE. Seriously, every time Lars and Søren show up, just expect it. Genderbends. Also, mentions of Justin Bieber.

DISCLAIMER: I still don't own anything. Especially not Justin Bieber.

Read and Review, please! It makes me feel loved.

Chapter 4: In Which Søren Asks Eirik for Help

Eirik sighed irritably at his laptop, tapping the desk it sat upon and occasionally flicking his bangs out of his eyes. This whole concept of "seducing Nora" was a lot harder than it seemed. She was extraordinarily picky when it came to guys – and she had absolutely every right to be so, in Eirik's opinion. Setting up a bet like hers meant that she had the right to pick and choose who was worthy of her time.

That meant that Eirik had some pretty stiff competition to go up against. Really, he wasn't too worried – he knew Nora better than anyone else did, being her best friend and all, but… that also meant that he had become the 'go-to guy' for any newcomer trying to put their hand into the bet. And honestly, he hated having to give up his own plans for the sake of another guy (or girl – Marion and Anya had both given it a shot. Marion tried at least once a year).

He'd finally caved and written a generic list, one that would have little to no chance of success, just to get people off his back. Plus, now he didn't have to give up his own plans.

He continued to glare in irritation at his list – it looked pretty much the same as every other time he'd done it, but he was still struggling to add more points to it. He was just on the verge of adding another one when he heard some pointed whispering directed at him.

" – look, just go and ask him, okay? He's the resident expert –"

So Lars was in on this, too? Great.

"No fuckin' way, man, he looks like an albino Justin Bieber or something. There's no way that kid knows how to seduce a girl like her."

That's it. Time to get a fucking haircut.

"Trust me, Søren, the kid knows what he's doing. Just go talk to him, okay?"

"No way! He –"

"Can hear every word you're saying, douchebags," Eirik said irritably, not looking up from his laptop. He quickly shut his list down and brought up the MyFace group, along with his list of 'suitable techniques'. "I see that you still haven't learned to pick better friends, Lars."

"And I see you're still an asshole, Eirik."

"Glad to see nothing's changed," the other kid – presumably Søren – snarked, pulling a chair out and leaning back in it. "Let's get to the point. Can you help me land Nora Knutson or not?"

"… with an attitude like that, you're beyond help at this point," Eirik sighed.

"You saying that she'll think I'm irresistible as is?" Søren grinned.

"No, she'll think you're an arrogant asshole. And she won't be wrong," Eirik retorted, flicking his hair out of his eyes again.

Søren's grin dropped markedly. "Y'know, you're an ass, kid."

"Takes one to know one, douchebag. And don't call me 'kid'."

"Or what, you'll throw your sippy cup at me?"

"Or you can forget about even trying to win that bet. A guy like you stands no chance with Nora," Eirik growled, clenching his fists.

"He's right," Lars interjected before Søren got another insult in. "As is, you have no chance, Søren. Stop insulting him. He knows what he's doing."

"How the hell does he know what he's doing? He doesn't even look like he belongs in high school."

"I'm seventeen, asshole."

"So's Justin Bieber. What's your point?"

"Do you want my help or not?" Eirik demanded, glaring at Søren, who sighed and ran a hand lazily through his already extraordinarily messy hair.

"Fine. Yeah. Whatever."

"All right. It's gonna cost you, though," Eirik said, turning back to his laptop and printing off the list.

Søren sighed heavily and pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

"I don't want your money. Get me 3 boxes of Ramen and we'll call it even. Unless you come back for more, in which case I want another box every time," Eirik demanded, getting up and grabbing the list off the printer.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"God, you're cheap."

"You'll thank me for it later, trust me. So, here's the initial list. This is just recommended stuff that most everybody who's given this thing a shot has done. You'll want to come up with your own material, but start out with this first," Eirik said, handing the sheet over to Søren. "If you need me, I'll be around," he told Søren, closing his laptop with a slightly ominous click, gathering his things and walking off, leaving the other boy to read the list in (sort of) silence.

1. Ask her to help you with your homework

"Sweet, already got one done."

"That's probably the easiest part," Lars told him while quietly attempting to make a nap.

2. Attempt to get to know her while doing said work – do not make it obvious that you're doing so.

3. At school the next day talk to her for over 10 minutes. Lunch is the best time to do this. DO NOT interrupt her during class; she will not hesitate to hurt you. Badly.

"… so she's abusive, then?"

"Only when you piss her off. Which isn't hard to do. So, yeah, kinda."

4. Sometime during the day leave a note in her locker, asking her to meet you at a coffee place – again, for homework purposes only. Tell her you focus better with crowd noise – whatever it takes to make her believe that it is NOT A DATE.

She's absolutely addicted to the stuff, and will not be able to say no. She prefers Starbucks over Caribou. (DO NOT attempt anything lesser than either of these, unless you're absolutely sure she'll like it.)

- If you ARE going to go for a more 'indie' café, make sure that there's good art lying around. If the coffee sucks, she'll at least be able to tolerate the place.

5. If successful, then meet her at said place. Try to learn more about her without making it seem too obvious that you're trying to dig deeper.

6. While doing that, make some small attempt to flirt with her. Something very small and unnoticeable. SUBTLETY IS KEY. No obnoxious pick-up lines; she hates those.

"Fuck. I'm screwed."

"Well, we already knew that. Any specific reason why?"

"I have to be subtle about this shit."

"… yeah, you're fucked. You're about as subtle as a brick to the head."

"Fuck you, Lars."

7. Repeat this process (steps 4-6) until you are absolutely confident that she will say yes when you ask her out.

8. Actually ask her out. Preferably in a romantic, but not overly ostentatious manner. This is easier said than done.

9. Keep doing nice things for her. Continuously feed her coffee. This will greatly heighten your chances of success.

10. Keep doing whatever else it is you're doing to make her date you until you've reached the 6-month mark. Once you've hit that, the money is yours.

Good luck!

"Shit. This is gonna be a lot harder than I thought," Søren sighed, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"It'll keep you from being bored for a long time, though, which was kind of the point in the first place," Lars pointed out, yawning slightly.

"You're an ass. This is the worst idea you've ever had."
"No, pretty sure that having you fight Berwald at that one Halloween party was the worst idea I've ever had."

"No it wasn't! That was awesome!"

"You broke my mom's coffee table."

"Your fault for not getting it out of the way in the first place."

"No, it's your fault for slamming that axe into it. Where the hell did you even get that thing?"

"Got an uncle in Wisconsin who's a blacksmith. He made it for me when I turned 15. Said it was my rightful inheritance as a man or some shit like that."

"You're kidding me."

"Uh, no. He said all the men in our family get a battle-axe when they turn 15."

"That's like… the shittiest reason for destroying someone's house in the history of… ever."

"Your face is the shittiest reason in the history of ever," Søren retorted, sticking his tongue out childishly.

"So, I've heard that you've got another contender in your bet. It's not that whore again, is it?" Morgan asked, taking a delicate sip of her tea.

"Marion? No. I expressly told her that if she tried again, I was going to cut off one of her breasts, or something to that effect," Nora sighed over her mug of coffee, brow furrowed in a vain attempt to remember exactly what she'd threatened the French girl with.

"That's good. The fact that she's tried repeatedly is just… disgustingly desperate. So, who is it then?"

"Søren… Nortung, I think his last name was? That weird kid that hangs out with Lars that thinks he's James Potter or something. Always messing up his hair and being a… oh, for lack of a better term, douchebag."

Morgan nearly choked on her tea. "Søren? You've got to be shi– you're joking, right?"

"No… why would I joke about something like that?"

"He's – god, how could he possibly think he's your type?"
"He probably doesn't. He's probably bored, looking for something – or someone – to do, and once he heard there was money in it, he was automatically interested," Nora sighed, taking another sip of her coffee.

"… he has no idea who you are, does he?"
"None whatsoever. But apparently Wang is professing his love for me again, because Søren asked for me to tutor him in Mythology."

Morgan scowled. "The only reason he likes you better –"

"Is because I did better in the class than you did. It's also because I'm not British," Nora retorted.

Morgan sniffed haughtily. "Just because I'm British doesn't mean he hates me."

"He called you "Opium". At least twice. I'd say he kind of hates you."

"… I hate it when you're right."

"No, you don't."

"Well, I hate it when you're right about shi- things like this."

"Give up on the goody-two-shoes act, Morgan. I was still friends with you during the punk phase, I don't care what you act like."

Morgan sighed heavily. "Look, it doesn't matter. We both passed the class, it doesn't matter if he hates me or not. I'm just thankful that Søren didn't come to me for help."

"Why? Is he that bad?"

"Let's put it this way… he makes Alfred look almost like a genius in comparison."

Nora blanched slightly. "You're lying. You've got to be lying."

"I dated him, back in 10th grade. I think I know what I'm talking about."

"You – you dated him?" Nora asked, slightly horrorstruck.
"I was in my punk phase at the time. I thought he'd be a good lay, and I was absolutely right."

"You have to be joking."

"No. There's this thing that he does with his tongue… mmm. Might have to teach Alfred that one. I rather miss it."

Nora just stared at Morgan. "Do you have some kind of – addiction? Ugh, I don't know what the word is I'm looking for... but you're attracted to idiots, aren't you?"

"It gives me someone to lord over. That way I satisfy my need to control everything, and they're powerless to resist."

"… you're absolutely sick and twisted sometimes, you know that?"

"Shame. And here I thought I managed to be so all the time," Morgan mourned quietly, taking another sip of her tea.

Just as a reminder:

Anya is Fem!Russia, Morgan is Igiko, Marion is Fem!France.

Reviews make me happier than a bird with a french fry. So please, please, please review. Let me know what I'm doing right - or wrong, for that matter.