A/N: For anyone who was confused, Denmark and Norway are not brothers. (Sorry to the person who asked me if they were related. You know who you are.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. All I own are the humans getting to watch the action.
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The first day of curling competition arrived and Norway had to take on Canada in the opening match with America that night. He stood in his hotel room and pulled on his polo shirt, boxers, and curling pants. He slid in his Northern Cross beret, picked up his broom and strode purposefully from the room. His first match was against Canada, the first chance to show Denmark and the rest of the world that sports could be fun and the pants were awesome. He met his team in the room, accompanied by a small throng of fans. At the forefront were the twins whom Norway had met back outside of the curling hall. "Mr. Norway!" The girl called, "we're with you all the way!" She along with her brother, and their friends from before all seemed to be sporting the pants too. But they had also dyed their hair patterned after the flag, he wondered if this enthusiasm was common among young people in general.
"Thank you," He smiled at them, it felt nice to have support. The country glanced around and spotted his brother Iceland, who reluctantly had allowed Norwegian flags to be painted on his cheeks. "Even you Espen?"
"Yes, and you'd better wipe the floor with everyone today, I didn't get fancy just to watch you fail." There was an appreciative chuckle at the incidental curling pun, but other than that the contingent piled onto the bus and drove off to the Olympic curling hall. The bus arrived and the athletes bid farewell to their fans and headed for the locker rooms. The fans climbed into the stadium, the male twin looked over at his sister before checking his ticket, "how did you manage to get front row seats?"
"Easy, I pulled some strings and my Master also contributed." The girl smiled as she, her brother and friends filed down a mostly empty section of the front row. At the end sat a teen with tousled silver hair. "Yo Kay! Thanks for the tickets!"
The teen waved, "Tenoh, Darnell, long time no see, I take it you're supporting Norway then?" Kay put both feet up on the rails to show off the patterned pants.
"Definitely," they agreed.
Iceland wound his way to sit on the other side of Kay and gazed out over the misted ice lanes. He paused his gaze over the entrance from the locker rooms as eight curling teams entered, led by Mounted Police and the shrill call of bagpipes playing 'Scotland the Brave' filled the air along with cheers. When the Norway team emerged, the cheers dimmed to only those ardent supporters as the rest of the crowd took in the sight of the pants. One audible laugh could be heard from Denmark, who had taken the ice for his own match. Slowly cheers filled the air as other teams emerged, effectively negating Denmark's mockery. That made Iceland smile, even Danma couldn't escape the effect of a crowd that wouldn't listen. At that moment a young boy with bushy eyebrows and a sailor uniform appeared and sat down on the aisle seat next to Iceland.
"Hello Peter," he greeted. It was a rule among the Nordics that they could only greet the adopted child with his non-nation name.
Peter Kirkland, also known as Sealand, smiled brightly, "hi there Iceland!" He leaned around to watch the humans sitting next to his friend, "hi everyone! I'm Sealand, right now we're offering knighthood for a discount 19 euros!"
"Hello!" Tenoh called back.
Iceland jabbed Sealand lightly, "they're starting in a minute, shut up."
Sure enough Norway and Canada took the sheet closest to their seats, at least Iceland assumed one of the four Canadian team members was the nation. The Nordic on the sheet of misted ice frowned. He hadn't heard a peep out of Denmark since the initial outburst. He set his non-Teflon covered shoe on the ice and pushed off, gliding along to the far side and back. He consulted with his team for a moment. They would be shooting red for the match, and they wouldn't start with hammer, the all important last stone of the end.
The teams shook hands, Norway briefly saw Canada, or so he thought. The Nordic slid down to the far end of the sheet, and stood at the back of the house, the large target that the players shot for. He pointed his broom just to the right of the two-foot circle. The stone slid down the ice and after a gentle bit of sweeping, it slowed to a stop a few inches from where Norway had pointed. A cheer went up from the front row Norway supporters. That was a great shot to start off the match with.
But almost two hours later at a 6-6 stalemate at the end of the tenth end, with two shots to go in the extra end, most of the Norway and Canada supporters were biting their nails or other neurotic behaviors to try and get over it. Even Iceland could feel the pressure, he dreaded what the medal matches would be like if people acted this way on day one. Norway glanced around nervously for any sign of the spiky blond Nordic who was sute to start spiting him.
Denmark had lost in his match against Switzerland and had taken a spot up with the rest of the Norway fans. "C'mon Canada! Wipe the floor with those fail pants!"
Norway clenched his fist and stared down ice to the house. He could break cluster around his guard stones and save the game. But Canada was good, and he had hammer for the end. No help for it, he'd have to use the break shot and hope to land the point. He glanced over at the nation, who'd finally become visible, at least for now. Matthew looked nervous but encouraging, his idiot curl tickling his nose playfully. He realized that even in the heat of battle, it was still just a game.
The Nordic stepped onto the hack and set up for his shot. His mind was utterly focused in the silence of the hall. "I can do this." He muttered to himself.
"Get on with it Nora!"
That shout from Denmark shattered the nation's concentration, but he refocused just in time to make his release. The stone slid down the ice, but Denmark had shattered his shot just enough. The stone didn't stop when it reached the house and scattered the cluster instead clearing the house without leaving anyone with a point. Canada stepped up to the hack as Norway passed him, "good game Nils."
"You too Matthew," he nodded with a small smile. He knew he lost, but he had no hard feelings to Canada. It was Denmark who would feel his wrath later. Matthew had a rookie shot to score the last point, as long as he landed in the house it was over. Canada stepped onto the hack, tossed, and with little effort from his sweepers, placed the last shot in the four-foot circle.
The two nations shook hands. "See you later?" Norway asked.
"It'll be an honor to play you again," Canada's voice was naturally barely a whisper but he sounded enthusiastic. The teams parted ways to raucous cheering from both sets of fans.
Norway walked back to the locker room with his team and stretched glancing down at his pants. He had felt more confident with them on. He set his broom in the small changing area and locked it up securely in the broom segment of his locker. He had another match that night, but there was plenty of time to relax. He put on his normal navy sailor outfit and hung up his uniform. He'd be wearing his alternate uniform again that night; these pants were red, white, and grey. As he left the locker room, he was greeted by Denmark.
"Looks like those pants were all talk and no action," Denmark smirked once the rest of Norway's team was out of earshot.
"Leave me alone Denmark, it's a round robin tournament. I would have made that last shot if you hadn't been shouting when I was going." He retorted.
"C'mon," Denmark pinned Norway to the wall, planting his arms firmly on either side of Norway's head. "Just admit it, those pants are bringing you bad luck and you know it."
Norway ducked out of the way, his face flushed with anger, "lay off Danma or so help me I will kick your ass!"
"Bring it on Nora," Denmark smirked, setting up to fight. He stepped forward, fist readied to punch.
Norway dropped and spun on the tile, taking out Denmark's legs. The larger man fell and Norway rolled out of the way. "Try it again and I won't be so nice." Despite what Denmark had taught the rest of the Nordics, Norway preferred being a combat pragmatist. He ran off, not wanted to see what Denmark would do when he got up in a few minutes. He found the crowd of fans eagerly crowded around the door. "Great job Mr. Norway!" Tenoh shouted.
"Thank you everyone," he waved at the group. "Our next match is tonight so please continue to support us!"
The crowd cheered, and the Nordic walked confidently to his waiting ride. He picked up a bottle of water once he was in the bus along with the rest of the crowd. He returned to his room eager for his match. He sat down on the side of the bed and opened up another bottle of water after discarding the empty one, his free hand turned on the TV, finding his favorite improv comedy show. He stood up half an hour later to get some lunch when a knock on the door caught his attention. He peeked out through the eyehole to find Belarus standing at his door.
He opened up and blinked, "hello Belarus. What brings you here?"
"My brother is avoiding me and I want to know if you are hiding him from me," she gave him the evil eye and pointed a long knife to his neck.
"Please, be my guest," he swallowed and stepped back to let her in. She spent several minutes trashing the room to find her brother.
"Thank you for your help Norway," she smiled kindly then disappeared down the hallway, "Russia... let's get married... Russia..."
The Nordic released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He closed the door and set about cleaning the room, so much for his lunch plans. What took one overly enthusiastic and determined nation five minutes to trash, took another more annoyed one twenty minutes to clean. He called room service and ordered a sandwich. He ate once the food arrived and he finished cleaning. The nation keeled over onto the bed, and within minutes was asleep.
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A/N: I finished my thesis and handed it in, so there will be much in the way of updating now! And I've successfully gained admission to college! All that remains is to not take so many LaCrosse balls to the chest, even with protection that hurts. I also seem to have a thing for Norway sleeping…
