83. The Slothful One
Date Written: July 15, 2019
Date Posted: November 30, 2020
Characters: Veneziano, Iceland
Summary: Iceland criticizes North Italy's notes.
Notes:
It wasn't like Iceland to be ornery with Nations outside of the Nordics. He was quite facetious around Denmark and downright rude to Norway, but he knew that they already knew his true nature. There were others who he regularly talked to on a personal basis, but he was still a bit… quiet and shy.
It was at this one meeting when Iceland decided to spite his entire family after a brief discussion about certain cultural matters. Not surprisingly, his "hot" side came out, so he decided to sit at one of the areas quite different to him in both temperament and climate: the Mediterranean. He wasn't quite annoyed enough to not to talk to them, but they were so damn… nosy and talkative. He was about to consider hanging around the Americas when someone called for the meeting to start and the window to pick a new seat had closed.
Iceland had to admit, sitting with the Mediterranean Nations wasn't too bad at first.
Greece had tried to stay awake, but had fallen prey to dozing off in the middle of the third presentation. Meanwhile, Spain struggled to take notes for the first two presentations before he began hugging South Italy like a pillow in an attempt to fall asleep peacefully. France was no better; he was busy bugging England. And for North Italy? He was the absolute worst.
Instead of even trying to take notes or falling asleep like any sane Nation, the Italian just doodled and hummed onto his copy of the presentation. Stray colors and flecks of what appeared to be paint littered his fingers, little traits of his that irked Iceland. But that wasn't the worst part. Oh no.
Iceland had the foresight to sit right next to him.
If there was one thing that Iceland did not appreciate it was the fact that he was actually utilizing effort in the damn meeting and these Mediterraneans were squandering their time with nonsensical, useless—
"Iceland, are you all right?"
The young Icelandic teen (who somehow closed his eyes during the repetition of his mantra) opened his eyes and saw that Italia Veneziano was looking up at him in concern. Atop the table, there were small doodles of kittens strewn across the pages of the documentation of today's meeting.
He fought back the urge to curl his lips at such… cuteness before facing the Italian. Much to his surprise—or not, he really should have seen this coming—Italy was looking at him in what appeared to be concern. Concern wasn't an emotion that Iceland would have associated with the much warmer Nation, but then again, they didn't really hang out much. It was to be expected that there was going to be something that was going to go amiss once Iceland had sat down to someone else for once.
But instead of addressing any of those issues, Iceland pursed his lips. "I'm fine, Italy."
The souther Nation scrutinized Iceland before asking, "Are you sure you're all right? You're not sitting next to the rest of your family."
Inwardly, Iceland blanched at the insinuation that they were closer than what he considered them. They were family… but they weren't family-family.
"Why are you so worried about me? Shouldn't you worry about taking notes?" He irritably pointed at Italy's disorganized mess. "Or are you so dependent on Germany that you have to beg for notes?"
At that, Iceland bit his lip. Hard. He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but today was so stressful and unnecessary and was Italy going to start—
Italy shrugged. "That wasn't very nice. I take good notes."
At that, Iceland's already hot nature began to explode instead of simply simmering and boiling over in what was supposed to be a calm and stately manner.
In short, Iceland simply could not keep his cool.
"What notes? All you've been doing is drawing!" Iceland picked up one of Italy's papers that proudly displayed a cat taking up the majority of the margins.
"And your reasoning?" Italy laid back in his chair, a small smirk on his face.
Iceland did not like that look on the Mediterranean. Italy looked vaguely intimidating.
"All I can see are—"
"You're seeing, but you're not looking. See the tail on this particular calico?"
Iceland obliged and was floored by what he saw. There were words and phrases that made up the tail, the eyes held questions, all four legs represented minor subtopics, while the main body housed the major topics for the meeting. The different parts had differing colors amid the black and white print of the sheets.
"H-how?"
Italy shrugged. He looked so smug despite the light glower on Iceland's face.
"I may act the part of the fool, but I'm far from lazy when it comes to important matters."
"And when you borrow Germany's notes?"
"To fill in the missing points!" The Italian laughed. "The poor boy gets so caught up in neatly detailed and perfect notes, he doesn't always have the correct information!"
"Boy?" Iceland couldn't help but whisper to himself.
Italy couldn't help himself. He leaned into Iceland's personal bubble and bopped him on the nose, eliciting a small sound of apprehension to leave Iceland's throat, but nothing else. Thank goodness. Italy wouldn't forgive himself if he had accidentally overstepped his boundaries with the young Nordic.
"You should brush up your history, Iceland. I am older than most Nations here and definitely more experienced." He gestured with his head at his detailed notes. "Just because I have a different way of looking at the world doesn't mean that I'm looking at it in a way that makes me wrong." He turned his head so that his eyes were somewhat hidden under the shadows of his hair. "Or stupid."
Iceland, abashed and horrified, tried to explain himself. "I-I wasn't—"
In a gesture that was far more compassionate than what Iceland deserved, Italy patted him upon the head before handing him a sheaf of clean documentation—not a doodle in sight. It was with slow realization that Iceland knew that this was his.
That's right, he couldn't help but think to himself.
He had been far too focused on his own thoughts and judgements that he had not been able to take his own notes.
Italy canted his head and allowed the younger Nation to take the sheaf of papers in hand.
"And just because I'm usually artistic and a bit imperceptive at times, that doesn't mean that I've gone and lost compassion." Italy's smile had become softer, less curved and with far less teeth. "I've made a copy of notes as well for you if you like. However, I want you to focus more on the presentation as well if you choose to accept."
Dumbly, Iceland nodded.
And with that, Italy turned back to the presentation, highlighter and pen in hand as he went back to drawing in the blanks of his calico.
On the other hand, Iceland read the notes that Italy had given him.
For such a lazy individual, his notes were rather well written and insightful.
Perhaps he should interact with the Mediterraneans more…
