Apparently Iceland was no longer their destination; Berwald sighed heavily.

They docked in Great Yarmouth, England. Emil had landed much farther north, but he had been a day ahead of them, and apparently already had a place set up for them. The hardest part would be finding it. They had to head east to Norwich, although Emil had warned them that they might move even farther north, just to be safe. Honestly, Berwald didn't care either way. He just wanted to get them there. He always felt that transporting so many weapons was like carrying a time bomb, and that if he held them for too long, everything would just blow up.

Incidentally, it did mean that while they were in England, there would be no more dealings. From then on, their goal was to lie low and not fuck things up. He considered keeping a tally of how many days it took until the British police arrived on their doorstep, though.

The streets wound around and around, but never seemed to lead in circles. Instead, it was like a nightmarish spiral, with every turn landing them onto a new street. The worst part of all was that Berwald wasn't even driving; they were in a taxi cab with a driver who had lived there his entire life, and he was still having a panic attack. In his defense, there were more buildings on the street they were currently on than there were in both the towns he had lived in combined. Ludwig's hand had suddenly, though discretely, moved on top of his, grasping it and rubbing his thumb over his palm. His shoulders dropped as he breathed out; he hadn't realized he had been tensing them so hard.

Without warning, the car slowed, and then stopped, seemingly in the middle of the small street. But still on the wrong side of the road. He just couldn't get used to that. They got out and gathered all of their things before looking up to see Emil leaning in the doorway of a tall but thin building, his arms folded. He was staring at Ludwig hard enough to bore holes in him, but when the German looked up, his eyes jumped to Mathias as if they'd been on him the whole time. Berwald might have smiled; he liked Emil, his short temper amused him.

Emil was the youngest of them all, and he hated it. He had been born and raised in Iceland, but had traveled the most out of them all. He wasn't much good for the kind of work they did, but he was good for times like this. Emil had contacts all over Europe and had even if he didn't seem to like Berwald very much, he went along with everything they asked. He was never happy about it, but he always helped them out whenever they called. He couldn't quite figure that one out. But as they unloaded the car and marched into the house, he settled on suspecting that it stemmed from Lukas and Emil's brotherly relationship.

The shorter Icelander also really liked Tino, but moved away from Berwald if he got too close. He hated Mathias, so he said, but when he saw that he was injured, the concern in his voice was obvious.

"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded after hugging Lukas and Tino.

"This bastard here shot me," he said, waving his good arm at Ludwig, but grinning like an idiot.

"After you shot me first," the German said in his defense as he gimped in behind him.

Emil stared at him, and then at his injured leg, and then turned to Lukas and muttered something close to his ear. He frowned in thought, nodding a few times, and then straightened up when Emil pulled back and hid behind his shoulder slightly.

"We're going in to town, we still have the rest of the paperwork to finish up on this place, and then we should be set." Lukas informed Berwald with a firm nod, as if in response to his own words.

Berwald blinked at him, but then gave his own nod after a few minutes. "We'll unpack,"

Lukas nodded and left with Emil, but as he walked by he brushed the outside of his hand against his, startling Berwald into standing still to watch them leave until the door shut.

What the hell was that?

Before he could honestly begin to think about it, there was a loud thump, and he turned to see Mathias lying sprawled out on the floor.

"Get yer ass up and help," he ordered irritably at the Dane.

"But I'm injured," he whined loudly.

He frowned for a minute, but then Tino timidly spoke up.

"It's alright, let him and Ludwig rest. We can unpack until Luke and Emil get back." he said in a soft, caring voice.

Berwald was stunned a second time. He knew of Tino's hatred for Germans, and he had absently figured that this meant he hated Ludwig, but, maybe he wasn't thinking of him as a German now that he wasn't in uniform.

He gave a grunt and a nod, and then Ludwig appeared, carrying in the last of the bags from the taxi cab. Berwald went to go take the bags from him so he could rest, but Tino beat him to it, pulling them from his arms and shooing him to the couch that Mathias was slowly crawling towards. Ludwig looked just as surprised, but obeyed and went and sat, checking his leg before helping to drag Mathias up to sit beside him.

Cute.

He began unpacking quickly, eager to get as much of it done before evening as he could, which only left a few hours seeing as somehow it was already noon. Tino dragged the heavy bags over to him, and went to work without a word. Once when they were unpacking he looked up and met the Fin's eyes. He was startled, as always, but offered him a smile. It was strange, but it didn't make his heart flutter like it used to. He fought the desire to see if he could get a smile out of Ludwig instead.

Before long, the house was beginning to look like their own again, although he sighed still when he thought of his own home. When evening came and Lukas returned with a stack of paperwork and Emil in tow, they had finished unloading every bag except for everyone's personal packs, which they set in the front room so they could decide the sleeping arrangement later. Berwald took the paperwork from Lukas and then the Norwegian said that he would make dinner for them all, since Emil had gotten groceries earlier. He nodded and took the papers down the left hallway passed the closet to the small room they had designated as the office, and set them carefully on the floor until they had somewhere safer to keep them.

As he came back down the hall, he saw that Ludwig and Mathias had fallen asleep over on each other on the couch just as they had in the car, again reminding him of—

"Aw, they look like puppies!" Tino suddenly whispered beside him, clasping his hands together.

Finally, his heart missed a beat, but he wasn't looking at the short Fin, he was looking at his German. Maybe that was why he now seemed immune to Tino; he was being shielded by Ludwig. Trying to push these thoughts away, mostly because they were making him blush, he took his large blanket from his pack and spread it over them carefully. Although he didn't like to see that damned Dane leaning over on Ludwig's shoulder, he decided he could let them rest until dinner was ready. They did look like puppies, after all.

Emil suddenly appeared in the doorway behind them, and he was only sure it was him because of the angry way he cleared his throat in order not to walk up and startle the Fin. They both turned around and he fixed his eyes on Tino.

"Lukas said you and me are sharing a room, so, I'll show you which one you can put your stuff in," he said, perhaps trying to sound authoritative, but still looking rather shy.

Tino smiled with his eyes shut happily, and then fetched his bag and allowed the Icelander to lead the way up the stairs to the bedrooms. Berwald then fondly glanced once more at Ludwig before heading into the kitchen, which was on the right, passed the bathroom. Lukas was alternating between stirring something and talking to himself in a hushed voice, but stopped when Berwald entered the kitchen fully.

"Who ya talkin' to?" he asked in a quiet murmur as he walked up beside him.

Lukas regarded him with those dull eyes for a moment, but then they seemed to glint ever so slightly.

When Berwald had moved to his town and they had become friends, Lukas took him into the woods and told him a secret that he hadn't been able to tell anyone else. He saw things. Not in a psychotic sort of way, but rather, in a way that explained his mystical aura to Berwald. He saw ancient things. He said he had seen them in Norway his whole life, but even when he moved, he saw them in Sweden, too. When Berwald asked what he saw, he waited, but then told him that he was able to see mythical creatures of the old world. He saw fairies and trolls, and he could sometimes find trees that he was able to speak to. Once, he said, he even found a spirit that watched over a small pond.

After he had spent enough time in Sweden, these fairies apparently began to follow him around, and so even when he appeared to be alone, he was often talking with someone. Berwald had thought for a long time that he might have actually been crazy, but once, when he had been passing by, he had seen Lukas ask for something to hand him a book that was sitting on a table, and then, he saw the book levitate, and cross the room to his waiting hand, seemingly on its own. He had promised never to tell anyone of what Lukas could see, but from then on, he didn't believe he was crazy anymore. However, now that they were no longer in Sweden, he was wondering if Lukas was finally talking just to himself.

"Apparently," Lukas said, glancing around before looking back down at the stove. "England has its own fairies. They look different though."

Berwald couldn't help looking around the room, as if expecting to see something. He didn't.

"Oh." he muttered.

Lukas was silent for a moment before his eyes fixed randomly towards the upper cabinets, and then he looked down at him. "They like you."

He suddenly felt very self-conscious and shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"Here, taste this." Lukas ordered suddenly, able to also sense Berwald's feelings without him having to say anything.

He always liked that about Lukas. Stepping forward, he gingerly tasted whatever he was making from a flat, wooden spoon he was holding out for him. It was hot, but tasted good. He grunted in approval.

"It doesn't need more salt?" Lukas asked, eyeing the salt sitting on the counter very seriously.

Berwald almost laughed. "Enough salt."

"Never enough salt," Lukas winked at him with a straight face before turning back to the stove again.

Berwald looked around the room once more, hearing the sound of shuffling as Tino and Emil were apparently unpacking on the floor above them.

"Tino and Emil?" he asked after a moment.

Lukas nodded. "I figured since I'm used to Mat, and I…didn't think you'd want to leave Tino with a vulnerable German all night."

That second part was a lie. He was having trouble saying it. His shoulders fell a bit with guilt.

"Lukas," he muttered, walking a bit closer to his back.

He sighed bitterly. "It's hard, Ber. It was hard when Tino came, it's hard now. It's just how it is."

"No one's gonna replace ya," he told him honestly, and then cautiously put his arms around the smaller Norwegian. "Not to me,"

It took a minute, but eventually he left the spoon in the pot and turned around in his arms to hug him back. They both sighed; it had been a long time since they had embraced properly like this.

The truth was, Lukas had been his first love. They had been friends, but when his mother died and he came to live with him, it had blossomed into something more. For nearly a year and a half, they had something, something secret and special. When Lukas brought Mathias, though, everything changed. Berwald hadn't wanted it to, but Lukas did, so he let it. He was still fairly certain that Mathias was oblivious to their past relationship.

At first, Berwald had thought this change was because Lukas was instead falling for Mathias, but that didn't seem to be the case. He still wasn't sure why, but when Tino had come in and Berwald's heart turned him even further away from Lukas, he realized that it had hurt him. Lukas never admitted it, but they both knew it did. Berwald apologized, because when he told him that he would always be special to him, and that he would always have a love for him in a way, he meant it. He knew it wasn't enough for Lukas, but it was the truth.

Still, Lukas buried his face in his shoulder for a moment, breathing rather hard until he had apparently gathered himself up, and then they looked at each other, still wrapped up in each other's arms.

"I just hate to watch you hurt, Ber." he whispered after a minute.

He looked down; he didn't do it often, but, there was a lot of guilt in Lukas' words. "I know,"

They were silent until dinner was finished.

However, Berwald didn't even have to wake up Ludwig and Mathias when they were ready. The injured pair stumbled sleepily into the kitchen and Mathias' stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear. They both plopped down at the small table and then Lukas handed Berwald some plates and the instructions to set them out and then sit down. He did as he was told, but his gaze remained fixed on sleepy Ludwig. He yawned adorably before rubbing his face and stretching a little when Berwald sat next to him.

"I must have been more tired than I thought," he frowned, still looking like he was trying to shake off sleep.

Berwald had to fight the urge to kiss him. He wouldn't care if he made the Dane feel awkward, but he knew this was rough on Lukas. He would have to get used to it eventually, but, Berwald could give him time. He owed him that much.

Emil and Tino descended from the second staircase that led from the kitchen to the second floor, taking their seats as Lukas then walked over with the pot and began to serve them. Mathias drowsily chuckled at how motherly he was acting, and Lukas responded by threatening to pour the pot's steaming contents on his head. Berwald always liked Lukas' cooking, even if Tino and Mathias often told him it was bland, or too salty, and he thanked him in Norwegian when he served him.

For a brief second, he looked at him as if he was about to kiss his forehead like he used to. And then he did exactly that.

Ludwig and Mathias were immediately awake and Tino and Emil stared with wide eyes. He felt himself blink stupidly as Lukas then simply walked away and sat down to eat. He didn't avoid anyone's gaze; he was testing the way things were, and Berwald knew it. The only problem was, he didn't know what to do.

After a moment of silence, he was certain no one was going to speak. He hoped that Lukas wouldn't do it again; he didn't want tension in their small group, as things were going to be tense already. Yet, before the moment was allowed to end completely, Ludwig suddenly spoke.

"Don't do that."

He had never heard him use such an authoritative voice before, though it was still rather quiet, and he looked to him along with everyone else. He held only Lukas' eyes.

"Alright." he said after a long stretch of testing silence.

Ludwig appeared surprised at his complacency, and then it dropped and everyone began eating. Berwald wasn't sure how he felt about that, but decided he would wait and figure it out when he was alone. It was too hard to think that deeply around others.

"There's too much salt," Mathias complained daringly.

Lukas' dull eyes carried the essence of death as he glared at him. "I could water it down with your blood,"

Tino's loud, terrified laugh filled the room before he clamped his hand over his mouth. Emil might have giggled a little.

Mathias simply grinned widely at Lukas and ate another, decidedly larger spoonful.