The remainder of their day yesterday (after Norway had managed to drink some ihot/i coffee) finishing decorating Denmark's sad looking tree. Now it was overrun with many decorations; baubles, flags, stars, and the tinsel which Norway has been nearly tied up with by Denmark (which he would not say was the slightest bit amusing.) It had taken them a bit longer than it should have, but it was done.

This morning when Denmark had gone back up to his room for something, he noticed that Norway had packed up his suitcase.

"You're leaving again," he complained, sitting across from the other man at the table. Norway nodded. "You barely stayed at all." Denmark grumbled, chewing on a pastry.

"You're lucky I stayed at all." Norway got up and cleared his dishes into the sink. Denmark walked up behind him and placed his hands on Norway's hips.

"Well can I at least have a repeat of yesterday morning before you leave?" he asked, running his lips across the shell of the smaller man's ear. A flick against his temple and the man slipping out of his grasp was the only reply. "I guess not then." Norway had left the room so the Dane cleared away his own plate and mug, finishing off the pastry in one bite. When he looked up again, Norway was placing his bag by the door.

"My flight leaves at 12." He stated. "I have to leave soon." Denmark frowned.

"You could've at least told me earlier." Norway walked over and patted his head like a child.

"You'll survive." He looked over at the clock. "I should leave now." Denmark caught his arm before he could walk off.

"Just one more kiss?" he almost whined. Norway stepped back over to him and pulled him down to his height, pressing their lips together. Denmark let his eyes closed, holding him closer and leaning into the kiss. Before they could go further, the shorter broke it off. "I'll drive you to the airport?" he offered.

"No you won't. You're going to stay here; besides, you've still got a gift to open." The Norwegian picked up his suitcase and walked out the door, waving a final goodbye. "I'll see you on the 24th, at Tino's place on time." Denmark nodded over and over.

"Ja, seeya then. Jeg elsker dug!" He called outside. Norway didn't call back, but Denmark would swear he was wearing a smile when he got in his car. Or maybe that was just what he wanted to believe. Either or.

He had to close the door again quickly, lest the house freeze over, and took action on Norway's departing comments by walking over to his Advent box and grabbing the 14th box. Another light one, he noted. iWhat will it be this time?/i He opened the lid to another note, this one reading:

i'Your gift's not here. Look in the pantry.'/i

Denmark reread it a couple of times before going to the pantry, expecting another food gift. Much to his confusion, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary in the pantry until another note stuck to the door drew in his attention.

i'Did I say pantry? I meant fridge.'/i

This was slightly odd. But still, Denmark went to the fridge, not completely certain on what he was looking for anymore. On the butter there was another note.

i'Behind me'./i

He pulled the butter out and found another note behind it.

i'Maybe above?'/i

He could feel himself loosing sight of where this was going to end, but continued looking. Nothing on the shelf above it, so maybe higher? Sure enough he found a fifth piece of paper on top of the fridge.

i'The hall table might be a better guess.'/i

He wandered into the hall, finding yet another clue on the table (Norway must have dropped it there when he was leaving. Because Denmark definitely didn't remember that being there.)

i'I said might; it wasn't. Lounge window sill.'/i

Sighing, Denmark followed the instructions there too. The next notes were all the in same formula; uncaring remark about his princess being in another castle, then the location of the next clue.

i'Why would anything be here? Try the laundry basket.'

'You should use this thing more often. Go to your cleaning cupboard.'

'I'm surprised you know where this is. Back door maybe?'/i

It was the one at the back door that made Denmark curse.

i'A note's the only thing you can put on a door. Maybe the shed?'/i

Groaning, he went and found boot before dragging himself across his back yard to the shed. He wrenched the door open and saw the next note on the lawnmower handle.

i'What're you doing out here? You'll catch a cold again. Turn your head towards the sink this time.'/i

Denmark dragged himself back again, shaking the snow off his shoes as he walked in. On the sink tap, another apathetic note awaited.

i'You know if you turned your head slightly when you came in here you wouldn't have had to go outside. Maybe try upstairs next.'/i

And so it went on.

Denmark was lead upstairs, through halls, down stairs, in cupboards, under tables, back up stairs… When did Norway get a chance to set out all of these? He probably spent the whole work day writing the notes. He was all but ready to have a good long break when he reached an even more interesting one.

iNearly been through the whole house now. Let's finish with the attic, shall we?'/i

Finish; Denmark smiled at that word. He would finally get his prize. Carefully he lowered the ladder to the attic and ventured up it. Flicking on the light switch, he looked around eagerly for anything that looked like a gift. His hopes deflated a bit when he only found another note (the 50th, maybe even 60th now?) This was iwas/i a bit bigger though…

He picked it up and found it wasn't just one, but two pieces of paper. The first was like the earlier notes, but instead just said i'Congratulations.'/i The other one was laid out like a coupon.

iOne trouble free call to Norway.

This entitles the holder to call Norway at anytime without receiving complaint (excludes passive aggressive variety.) One use only; expires 1 March 2011 (so use it quickly or not at all idiot.)/i

Denmark grinned at the note, lying down on the attic floor. He rather wanted to call Norway right now and ask him what the deal was with all those notes, but decided against it in order to save his chance. However, the call (when it happens) may be concluded with the sound of a kazoo, or a vuvuzela if he could get his hands on one…