Dreams faded slowly, vanishing into a blank whiteness that had no name.
The heart began pumping just a little faster, coming out of its self-imposed torpor.
Blood warmed the limbs, banishing the chill in the farthest extremities.
All in all, waking was a slow process.
It was the brain that woke slowest, though the process was by no means fast. Rather, every synapse made a decision to connect to its neighbors, slowing bringing the body back from the brink.
A wise man once said that for every synapse, there was a star in the night sky.
A beautiful image, but it brought no solace to the living.
Eyelids fluttered softly. That did bring comfort to those left behind.
Fingertips brushed cool sheets, bringing an awareness of space with the sensation.
The next sensation was that of being too warm. Too warm, after being so sold for so long.
Arms and legs tried to kick of their covers, but they could not move.
Eyes reluctantly opened in order to see what might be restricting the body's movement.
They closed again immediately; the world itself was too bright.
Someone was holding him.
How long had it been since he'd woken up like this?
Too long, far too long. Not since…
Fuck it, it was too early.
A restlessness built up inside. How long had he been asleep, anyway?
The person next to him mumbled something.
Unceremoniously, he elbowed his bed-mate in the ribs. "What the fuck are you doing here." It was not really a question at all, just a comment.
In response, his bed-mate gently brushed the hair off his face. "G'mornin', Lukas."
"What the hell are you doing here."
"Are you alright?"
"What the bloody fuck are you doing here, Idiot?"
"God, so demanding."
"Answer me, damn it. And some coffee, please."
Norway still hadn't opened his eyes, but he was aware that he was snuggled up against Denmark's chest (still clothed. What in Heaven, Hell, and Earth had happened?)
"You were crying in your sleep."
What had happened?
"Where are we?" Not Copenhagen. Please, not Copenhagen. Anywhere but Copenhagen.
"Oslo."
Thank God.
"What happened? Why are you…?"
"You don't remember?"
Images came to him. Yes, he remembered now, at least in part.
"So, I guess you found me after…?"
"Yeah. It's a good thing we found you when we did. We almost… lost you…"
Norway was well aware of that. He hadn't needed to come back, not if he didn't want to.
"And…" He was afraid to ask, but he had to. "America. Is he…?"
"We held a funeral."
Norway exhaled sharply. He'd known this would happen. Nothing could have been done to prevent it, but…
"When?"
"A while ago. You shouldn't worry about it now. Finland says you should rest-"
"I've had enough rest, Dane. How much, exactly?"
"…A month and a half."
Fuck, no wonder he felt restless.
"We need to talk."
"Is this really the time? I mean, you just woke up, and-"
"Shut. Up."
Surprisingly, the idiot Dane did as he was told for once.
During his time away, Norway often wondered what would happen once he was free. He did not hate Denmark, as he'd once told a good friend (nor Sweden, for that matter, but that's irrelevant). There was, however, too much history between them to be ignored.
It was so confusing, sometimes. As a man with several hundred years to his name, he should be past pedestrian teen-age feelings.
"You're an idiot."
"You've told me."
Slowly, Norway opened his eyes. The light was still too bright, but not unbearably so.
It was hard to say what he wanted. Being with Denmark in the past had been… difficult, sometimes, but it had not been without its rewards.
Impulsively, he brushed a soft kiss against Denmark's lips.
Gently, Denmark kissed back.
"But, if you don't mind, you could be my idiot…"