Norway stirred and woke up. He looked around groggily for something to wash the funny taste out of his mouth.
A hand held a cup of coffee in front of his face.
"'M I dead? "Cause this 's wh't I imagine Heaven t' be like," he murmured groggily as he accepted the cup.
Laughter. That irritated Norway. What was there to be happy about his early in the morning?
Actually, he had no idea what time it was. He took a sip of coffee. His vision cleared. Denmark was sitting in a chair next to the bed.
"What are you doing here?"
"It's good to see you, too, Norge."
"It's too early for this."
"It's 5 o'clock in the afternoon."
That took a moment (and another sip of coffee) for Norway to comprehend. He was not a morning person. "So I've been asleep for, what, nine hours?"
"Try nine days."
"What?!"
"Yep. We've been keeping an eye on you. You worried us for a while, Norge."
Norway's cup was empty. He set it down. "What's been happening?"
"Well, Sve and Finny have been keeping an eye on England and his allies. American and Russia left to fight North Korea and China in the Middle East. Apparently, that turned into a three-way war before you could say 'Skål.' Spain defected to our side, and Prussia and Hungary recently returned with Germany."
"Oh, so I haven't missed much."
"Nope! Here, Finland wanted to make sure you ate something." Denmark handed Norway a plate with pancakes on it. He reached for the fork and wondered why he couldn't move his fingers…
Oh, right, his broken wrist. With a little juggling, he managed to pick up the fork with his left hand.
"Why are you up and about?" Norway asked in between bites of the delicious pancakes. "You should be resting. That was a nasty wound."
Denmark shrugged. "I'm too stupid to stay injured long. Wanna see my scars?"
Norway hadn't given an answer, but Denmark tugged the bottom of his shirt up anyway.
"I'm trying to eat, Idiot."
Actually, Denmark was extraordinarily lucky. He only had two lines of scars, running perpendicular across his stomach. That's right, his scars made a Nordic Cross.
For a wound like that, Norway would have expected more scarring.
He set his plate down. It was empty and he was full…maybe he'd sleep some more…
He noticed that Denmark was drinking a beer. "How on earth did you get a beer in the middle of a war?"
"Scotland."
"Same question."
"He has a liquor store in his suitcase, Norge. Liquor stores are cool."
Norway sighed; he should have known. He wasn't tired anymore, though. "What did Finland say about getting out of bed?"
"After I check your stitches, and when you feel like it, you can."
"Well?"
"Well what?" Denmark asked with a grin.
"Are you going to check my stitches?"
"Maybe I wanted to keep you in bed."
Norway glared.
"Fine! Fine. Here, sit up for me?"
With some assistance from Denmark, he tugged his shirt off.
The stitches in his side felt rather tight. Denmark took a quick look and reached for the penknife on the table.
"I'm going to cut your stitches now, okay?"
Norway nodded. "How many did I get?"
"Seventeen. It was a nasty cut."
Norway winced slightly as Denmark cut the first stitch. It didn't hurt (just a slight tugging sensation), but it was uncomfortable.
"Who stitched me up?"
"I did. No one noticed it until later, and I was okay by then."
"Thank you."
"I thought I should repay the favor. Finny patched your wrist up, though."
"Yeah, you never were good at setting bones."
Denmark shrugged. "It wouldn't be fair if I was good at everything and looked this sexy."
Norway glared at him.
"Well, it's true. Let me help you put your shirt back on."
Within minutes, Norway was dressed and drinking a third cup of coffee.
"What are you going to do about England?" Denmark asked suddenly.
Norway considered for a moment. "I- I'm not sure yet, but I have an idea…"
"Well, that's good. Switzy offered to hold our peace settlements in Bern in a month. Well, three weeks."
"I think I'll start making plans, then."