Denmark noted the sound of airplanes coming from the west. At first, he'd thought they were supplies. But that made no sense; supplies came from the south, as Norway had an agreement with France.

West? What was west?

The British Isles were north-west…

Oh. Gods.

Denmark jumped up from his chair. He had to tell Norway. He ran to Norway's tent. "Norway-" he began as he burst in.

"Hello, Danmark."

"Norge, there are-"

"I know."

"But how-?"

"Scout plane. Came back an hour ago with major wing damage. Pilot told us that he'd seen American scouts and fighter jets crossing the Channel."

"Ah. Then why didn't I hear-?"

"I don't have time to send someone to go look for you, nor, in fact, do I have anyone to send."

Norway hadn't looked up once rig this whole conversation. For some reason, that irritated Denmark.

"Is there something I can do?" he asked, hiding his irritation. It wouldn't be fair to take it out on Norway right now.

Norway shook his head. "Not right now. But make sure you turn out all of your lights tonight. We won't survive a midnight bombing raid."

"What about anti-aircraft guns?"

"We have some, but not enough. We don't have enough of anything."

"We've fought with less before."

"Not against such a powerful foe."

"You'll see, Norge. We'll prevail."

"Why?"

Denmark frowned. "Why what?"

"Why will we prevail? How do you know?"

"I don't know. But I have faith in your leadership." Since Norway was still sitting in front of his desk, Denmark rested his hands on Norway's shoulders, thumbs moving in slow circles to help get rid of the knots. (And Norway had a lot of knots. He was too stressed out.) "You're much better at this than I was."

"You never got into a mess like this."

Denmark knelt behind Norway's chair and rested his head on Norway's shoulder.

"But you're smarter than I am, Lukas. You'll get us out of this, you'll see," he murmured. He was so close he could feel Norway's slight shiver as Denmark's' breath hit his ear.

"What do you want?" Norway asked, just a little too loudly.

"You worry too much."

"And you don't worry enough."

"That's not true. I worry all the time."

"You don't show it."

"No," Denmark agreed simply. "I don't."

Norway's pen stopped moving. "Why is that?"

"I don't know."

Abruptly, Norway pulled away. "You need to go."

Denmark frowned. "But-"

"No. Leave."

"If you're sure…"

"Ja."

Denmark noticed the faint blush on Norway's cheeks. What in Hell was going on? He shook his head. "See you later, Norge."

He left.