A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you're all enjoying the World Cup so far! It's been very exciting! Well beyond getting distracted by that, my laptop has had some issues and I've been in Denver training with my friend Bjanik in the art of parkour. So I hope you will forgive the tardiness of this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, but I now own a very cute Netherlands scarf to compliment my jersey. I also don't own Phineas and Ferb (yes I'm in the periphery demographic for the show. You almost have to be to get half the jokes in that show.)


Thankfully Norway was smart enough that he didn't stay in his room, just grabbing the things he'd need for the next day and moving into his brother's room on the far end of the floor. He awoke from the sleeping bag on the floor to find Iceland up and about making himself some licorice tea and bread with a bread kneader accompanied by a portable oven. "You know most people just bring laptops on trips, not materials to make bread..." Norway paused before smelling the bread in the air, "not that I'm complaining."

"Good, because you know it's rude to complain about the habits of people who take you in from the generosity of their hearts." Iceland replied but still handed him a cup. "You should be grateful I didn't decide to make breakfast tea."

Norway nodded, "very true." He knew full well his brother's wake up tea was a cup of very strange tea that's taste could only be described as hot lemon-lime sports drink mixed with an equally warm shot of Red Bull. The Nordic took a sip of the tea, relishing the sweet berry flavor tenderly tickling his taste buds. His brother lay down on the bed and popped on the TV. The machine clicked on and the white haired Nordic clicked forward.

The cartoon started playing bizarrely catchy pop music. "Bow chicka bow wow! That's what my baby says! Mow mow mow! And my heart starts pumping! Chicka chicka chu wop! Never gonna stop! Gitchi gitchi goo means that I love you!"

"You actually watch this?" Norway asked watching his brother watching the show.

"It's surprisingly good," Iceland noted and motioned for his brother to move.

Norway raised an eyebrow and sat down to watch. The fact the show was playing a love song only served to strengthen his conviction that he'd somehow ended up in a romantic comedy story in the middle of the tournament. Still he ate in silence without launching into a criticism of his brother's behavior and habits. They departed for the morning jog in the snow when the episode finished. During the two laps around the pond they passed by Switzerland and Belgium sitting on a park bench feeding some geese. Belgium waved while Switzerland frowned while they passed by.

"Hey Nils, Espen! Having fun?" She asked shivering at them.

"Wouldn't be doing it otherwise." Norway smiled as they continued on through the chill.

The brothers arrived back at the hotel, heading back up to Iceland's room. Norway popped into the shower to warm up and clean off before his match against Sweden. When he emerged he found Iceland feeding his puffin, "you should get going. Otherwise you may run into Denmark again."

"Right." Norway dug around in his sleeping bag case for a moment before pulling out a pack of licorice. "For your hospitality again."

Iceland held the pack for a minute. "Good luck you jerk."

The older Nordic grinned slightly, "thanks." He left the room, made a pit stop to grab his curling equipment then headed back into the frozen outdoors of Vancouver, well rather chilly streets. Norway entered the locker room, and then checked the schedule tacked to his locker. He had to play Sweden this morning. This made the Nordic perk up, if there was one of the Nordics who he could talk to about Denmark, it would be Sweden. Norway strode out to the sheet and met Sweden by the ice.

"'S good t' see you Nils," the larger Nordic greeted.

Though his expression didn't change, Norway knew Sweden was glad to see him. "It's good to see you too Berwald," he replied as they shook hands.

The two slid down the ice to the house to begin the match. Sweden examined him from behind his glasses, the smaller Nordic seemed distracted by Denmark and Germany. He pointed his broom to the center of the house, watched the stone slide down the ice and come to a neat stop, before speaking again. "Someth'ng wrong between you 'nd D'nma?"

"Yeah, I don't want to talk about it right now." He admitted, "want to get some lunch after this?"

Sweden nodded, "need t' go get m' wife first. Where d' you want t' go?"

"Belgium's place, and feel free to invite Tino along." Norway noted while he pointed his broom to take out Sweden's stone.

The two Nordic's fell silent save for their shouts at their teammates, though Sweden couldn't help but feel Norway had been through a lot the last week. He hadn't talked to his friend, mostly dividing his time between curling and watching Finland carving the slopes at the snowboarding site. His adopted son Sealand was off at the hockey arena with his friend Latvia watching Russia play. A bit risky, but still when he became a full nation Sealand would have to learn to deal with Russia on his own. As the curling match pressed on Sweden realized that Norway was bothered, not as bothered as Belgium had reported to him initially, but he needed to get his confidence back.

The bottom of the ninth end saw a tied score of seven to seven. Norway grit his teeth, he had a tough shot and no hammer to pull it off with, the cluster in the house would make it a difficult to nudge Sweden's closest stone out of the way. His best option would be a total house clear and hoped that Sweden missed his hammer shot. Resigning that he'd basically given the game away, he slid forward with as much strength as he could. The stone sailed down the ice without the aid of the sweepers, breaking up the cluster much the same way it had a few months ago in practice. Unfortunately none of his stones stayed in the house.

Sweden slid forward gently a moment later, neatly stopping the hammer within the four foot circle. That was it, final score Sweden eight, Norway seven. The smaller Nordic sighed, his second loss of the tournament. He'd been taking his losses for granted, but he had bigger things on his plate to worry about than some piece of metal on a string. He'd made the mistake of considering personal glory over Denmark, and it'd alienated the other Nordic even more than ever. He shook Sweden's hand, somewhat relieved at the revelation he'd just had.

"Thanks," Norway offered a small smile, "I think I needed that."

"Still w'nt lunch?" Sweden asked, seeing his friend had regained the calm sparkle of life in his eyes.

He nodded, "Sure why not."

The larger Nordic pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "b' there 'n a little b't."

"Right." Norway agreed as they departed.

An hour later, Norway hung his jacket on the coat rack in Belgium's bar followed by Sweden and Finland. The three took a booth by a window while Belgium stopped by. "Nils, please tell me you're not ordering akevitt, you've almost emptied the last bottle I have." She scolded pulling out a pen.

"No, I'm saving that for when this plan inevitably fails." He joked grimly, "actually Belle, I'll just have some water and kjøttkaker."

She jotted this down, "Berwald! Tino! Long time no see! How're this year's Olympics treating you?"

"Just fine! How have you been Belle?" Finland replied brightly.

"Brilliant. You two want anything?" She smiled.

"Chef's special with a glass of milk please!" The shortest of the three Nordics declared.

"Palt w'th a bottle 'f tr'cadero." Sweden added in.

Belgium checked over the list, "Kjøttkaker and water for Nils, chef's special and a glass of milk for Tino, and palt with a bottle of the finest trocadero for Berwald. Anything else?"

The three looked at one another for a moment, "we're fine." Finland replied.

"I'll get that out as soon as I can," Belgium smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.

When she disappeared, Finland tilted his head to watch both Norway and Sweden. "Nils, what's wrong? Ber told me there was something going on with you. Are you okay?"

Norway shrugged heaving a sigh, then proceeded to recount the major events since the party, though he did give some back story in the first day of curling competition for story completion sake. He told how he had unfairly cut off Italy to deny how he felt about Denmark, about Denmark's reaction. His own binge drinking and spiraling depression. The Nordic addressed them about his apologies to Italy and Germany, his accidental hand in getting Lichtenstein and Canada together. He went on to confess how he thought that beating Denmark would make the man listen to him, only to get the man even angrier at him, breaking his cheek and needing one of his fans to patch him up with another to interpret what the first was saying. Finally he explained about having to flee the bar yesterday with Germany's aid and spending the night in Iceland's room to avoid their angry friend. This basically covered the events of the day, though he did neglect to mention how his hand in getting Lichtenstein and Canada together caused Switzerland to have started showing interest in Belgium, but only because that wasn't relevant to the plot as far as Norway was concerned.

Finland stared, his eyes wide with equal parts shock and amazement. "All that while I was off snowboarding? Wow..."

"Not th' issue n'w. 'S what t' do 'bout it." Sweden muttered, his fingers laced, thumbs forming a triangle with the tip resting against his lips.

A pensive silence fell over the group while they all considered Norway's options. During this time Belgium showed up with food and drinks for the group, recognizing the group's mood. Norway stared into the meatballs with potatoes and carrots sitting before him. He had no idea what to do now, his fingers fumbled with a container of lingonberry jelly while he ran over his options. He picked up his fork and started eating, trying to see things from Denmark's perspective, figuring thinking along the lines of his crush would give him some insight into his next course of action. Denmark was upset, angry, confused and probably overjoyed all at the same time, in other words he had no idea what this meant.

Finland paused in his attack on a rather large sandwich, "I've got it!"

Sweden paused from his dumplings filled with pork, "G't what?"

"I know what Nils can do! You can attack him and tie him down until you talk it out!" The Nordic sounded rather pleased with his solution to Norway's situation.

Sweden's eyebrow almost disappeared entirely behind his blond bangs. "'R maybe n't. D'nma's stronger th'n Nils."

"Ooh you're right... What about an anonymous letter telling him to meet you for a date? You can set it up for him to show up here, and we'll invite a bunch of people so that if something goes wrong we can restrain Danma until you get to safety!"

Norway's face drained of color, but Sweden considered this, "could w'rk... Which room's D'nma staying 'n?"

"A few rooms down, Gilbert's next to me. Then Feliks and Danma's at the end of the hall." Norway replied grimly recalling the other day when he'd heard Denmark in Prussia's shower singing at the top of his lungs.

Sweden nodded for a moment and thought, "you free t'morrow?"

"Yeah, but Danma has a match against Francis tomorrow night." Norway reminded them.

"So invite him out for a date between the matches." Finland smiled.

Norway put his thumb to his lips thinking, "alright, I'll go for it. If I'm going to put things right between us then this is as good a place to try again as any."


A/N: Things are looking up for our intrepid hero! I must say my spell check hated this chapter, but Sweden's such a sweetie. As to the tea at the start of the chapter, that was based off of my personal experience at a Zen Buddhist retreat for a week. The licorice tea was an evening tea served after the nightly meditation session. The lemon-lime one (sans Red Bull) was the morning tea served at the nice time of 5:45 in the morning with an outside temperature of 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Day one, I sit on my mound of cushions in my monk robes thinking how nice a cup of tea would be. I almost broke silence at the first sip, it was that strong. Second cup went down easier than the first.