A/N: Yo, it's time for chapter 2 and all of the kind reviews! I feel honored. HanaBibi informed me that in Norway "Nora" is a girl's name. So for the remainder of the story only Denmark will refer to Norway by this name, his human name for this story is going to be "Nils". And there's a fan bonus for those who've read my stuff on FictionPress.
Disclaimer: Ownership = 0
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The next morning saw Norway out at the Snarøya Curling Hall practicing with the team. He relaxed and stared down the long stretch of misted ice to the large target called a house at the far end. He gripped the metal handle of the hefty stone and closed his eyes. As he opened them he placed his back foot on the tiny step and pushed himself and the rock forward along the ice. He stood up as the sweepers followed the rock, "sweep! Sweep!" Norway shouted, the rock's arcing course straightened and slammed into the cluster of opposing stones at the end, scattering them. He propelled himself down the ice to a congratulatory back pat from his team. Breaking apart a cluster like that was a difficult shot to pull off.
However from the stands, Norway swore he heard the echoes of Denmark's laughter. His teeth clenched and he gripped his broom, why did he have to wear these pants? "Whose idea was it to wear these pants?"
One of his teammates raised a hand, "I thought since everyone wears black, we'd have some fun with it. After all, that's what sports are all about."
A smile crossed Norway's face. "You're right, it is about having fun. At any rate, good practice everyone. I'll see you back here on Thursday."
They all nodded and departed. Norway walked to his locker, but when he opened it and peered into his bag he paled slightly. He'd forgotten he had changed back at his house, and hadn't bothered to pack his clothes. It reminded the Nordic of why he wasn't a morning person, so he sighed and packed his broom in the long bag. He slung it over his shoulder and swapped his shoes out. The personified country departed the Hall and walked out onto the sidewalk. Outside a group of six or so teenagers stood around, they weren't from the country by the look of them. One of a pair of black haired twins waved over at Norway and smiled, "hello Mr. Norway!"
He waved back. "Hello."
"I love your pants," the young man dragged his twin over and smiled enthusiastically. As they approached he noticed the leading twin had a pink piercing in the left ear. Apparently he was a she, Norway realized after closer inspection, and she switched over to rapid Italian reaching into her backpack for a camera. So a pair of Feliciano and Romano's people, the Nordic noted to himself, he'd have to tell the brothers the next time he saw them. "Would you take a picture of us?" Despite that she had flawless Norwegian, he wouldn't have thought that would make any sense.
"Um, certainly," he nodded. The male twin put the camera to his eye, and suddenly the group of friends the twins had been sporting crowded around.
"Sorridete!" The young man shouted . The group smiled, and the camera clicked.
The girl turned back to him, "Thank you! We all have tickets to the Olympics, so we'll be cheering for you!"
Norway nodded and smiled, "I'll look forward to it."
The nation waved as the group departed. He smiled and, after stopping at a convenience store for a power drink, he returned home. He sensed something was wrong immediately when he crossed the threshold. The TV was on when it shouldn't have been. And it was fixed on some pathetic soap opera. He drew the curling broom from its bag and crept to the couch. Denmark was sprawled out over the leather, a bottle of beer in one hand and crumbs everywhere. An abandoned plate that apparently contained the food Norway had planned on eating earlier was the source of the crumb invasion. Norway's knuckles went white as he clutched the broom. "Danma, get up, clean up and get out of my house!"
Denmark glanced up at him, "welcome home Nora of the Fail Pants." Norway could tell from this distance that the other Nordic was completely plastered. "Yer jus' in time… geta pint an' c'mere!"
"I said get out," Norway repeated clutching his broom defensively.
"Fine, fine, Nora's bein' mean…" the larger country stood up with a swagger. He swayed slightly while he walked, his toe caught on the carpet and he toppled on top of Norway. Denmark smirked and gazed down at the struggling Nordic, "whassamatter Nora? Not happy to see me?" The larger country smirked predatorily and leaned closer to the smaller man.
Norway's face turned red, "not really, if you're going to come to my house and get drunk, then I don't want to see it."
Denmark stumbled up and Norway sighed and put an arm over his shoulders. "Come on, let's get you to bed." It was too late to send Denmark home; he'd do it tomorrow when his friend was hung over, as payment for showing up at his house and causing chaos. He guided his friend up to the guest bedroom, laid him down and closed the door.
Norway walked back downstairs and pulled out the vacuum. He cleaned up the mess the other Nordic had left behind, and then he finally changed out of his uniform. He ordered a pizza and sat down in front of the TV, shifting between watching it and checking out the travel arrangements to Vancouver. He couldn't really remember Canada, but the few times he did, the man was quite amicable. So it would be a pleasure to go meet him in the field of combat yet again. If only so he didn't have to hang out with Denmark night and day. He knew for a fact that if it weren't for the fact a marriage between nations occurred when the nations merged, and then he would swear he was married to Denmark. He went to the door, paid for the pizza and smiled watching the news about the preparations in Vancouver for the Olympics. He cleaned up his place, running the vacuum several times over everywhere Denmark had made a mess. When he finished he turned off the TV before going to bed in his own room.
The next morning Norway woke up with something warm wrapped around him, he smiled at how nice it felt. He rolled over and his half shut blue eyes noticed a face next to him. Unruly spikes of blond hair lay sprawled over the pillow. Norway glanced under the covers to find that the other person was in nothing but a pair of red and white boxers. His eyes widened, "Denmark!" the heat ran to his face as the larger nation rolled over on top of him. "GET OFF OF ME!"
"Five more minutes," the other nation muttered and buried his face in Norway's neck, his fingers wound around the smaller nation's idiot curl. The smaller nation bit his lip, "play with me."
Norway let out a shout, "DANMA GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!!!!!!!" He shoved Denmark out of his bed, shoved him out the door, down the stairs and out of the house. "AND STAY OUT!" He roared slamming the door and locking it behind the confused and hung over Denmark.
