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The brew was complete. America smiled to himself. He had never allowed himself to try magical spells before, mostly because he had been warned a few times too many that if something went wrong, it went wrong. He had managed — only this one time — to fool himself long enough to believe that a love potion gone wrong could only give the drinker mood swings for a few hours before they turned back to their own annoying selves.
Annoying selves... If England hadn't been so incredibly stubborn, the nation would probably not be so annoying in America's eyes. Still, there was something about him...
America shook his head. Now was not the time to think back. It was what was going to happen that excited him.
The vial of the potion felt cold in his hand. Whether it was the potion that had this cooling effect or if it was the container itself, was beyond America's knowledge — England would probably have known. Either way it wouldn't be long until he emptied the vial into England's water bottle, and could free himself from the cold vial forever.
That'd show him how embarrassing it is to confess one's love for another in public, and then be rejected without hesitation. Nobody made a fool of a hero!
Frowning at the thought, America watched as the bottled water changed colour from transparent to light blue to light green and back to the same transparent liquid it had been before having magic added to it.
According to the book America had snuck out of England's library, the colour-change confirmed that the potion was successful, and America felt rather proud for not screwing up his first potion.
He did screw up something, though.
How someone was unable to tell the difference between the spelling of "England" and the spelling of "Norge" still remains a mystery to this day — either way England never came across this sample of potion with which he was so familiar.
Norway, however, found himself frowning a few times at his water bottle, almost certain that something was different. Still, he settled with accepting that the water had been tapped nearly five days ago and had probably lost a bit of its taste (or gained a different one, now that he thought about it). Water was water, though, and he made a small game of sipping it whenever the leaders of the meeting either said the word "hero" or the phrase "everybody shut up". Norway had never understood Americans or Germans. He was sure they didn't understand him either.
The nations had been informed that they had to write down what they had to discuss with the world. This was common — there was always someone who said "er, uhm, shouldn't we write this down, or something?", whether it was Lithuania, Finland, Japan or someone completely different. This had been suggested so many times that each nation had been given their own notebook and pen.
Not that anyone really wrote down anything. Why would notes on America arguing with England and France be important? Or Germany telling Italy to be quiet for once? (Although the few times Germany pulled Italy's haircurl to make him shut up were memorable enough to amuse Norway a little, especially since he knew what tugging the hair would do, while Germany didn't.)
Notebooks were used — but hardly for making notes. Norway had plenty of samples of written conversations between Sweden and Finland hidden in his inner shirt pocket. Some of those conversations were quite casual, but it was when Finland asked about "who's going to watch Sealand this weekend when we're...?" that Norway felt the amusement coming back.
He had also come across a few pages of Belarus' notebook. It had made him terribly happy that he wasn't Russia.
Prussia and Denmark had found the ever-classic hobby of making paper planes of the lined notebook sheets. The planes' destinations were usually someone's hair or — it happened — someone's eye. Iceland had to wear an eyepatch for a few days, and Prussia found himself avoiding all eye-contact with Norway because of it.
But it didn't take Prussia long before he and Denmark once again started enjoying the art of flying origami again. The meeting of the nations usually brought up the same subjects as they had always done, but the new design of the paper plane was new and exciting, and Norway stared at "the awesome duo" as they folded and grinned and occasionally argued about where to fold. He moved his pen around on his own notebook, pretending to be taking notes.
It wasn't until Germany had the pleasure of being visited by a neatly folded flying paper bird intending on making a nest in said nation's hair, that the previously hopeless attempt of making this meeting a successful one fell flat, and made Germany move the meeting to the weekend.
Norway didn't notice anything until the nations around him rose from their chairs and headed for the nearest exit. He only noticed the loveliest set of eyes and the most charming smile he'd ever set his eyes upon, smiling at him, and saying: "Come on, Norge! Let's get out of here."
Norway's heart caught its owner by surprise as it increased the speed of its beats. Norway didn't even bother with bringing his notebook along with him — the next person to find said notebook would wonder who it was that had been able to write Denmark's name so beautifully, so passionately.
Denmark met up with Prussia after the latter had gotten an earful from his younger brother. A paper bird to the head might not be painful, but "very disrespectful and annoying", Prussia quoted after Germany had left the area. Denmark grinned.
"He shouldn't complain," he said, still grinning. "That paper bird was much better than his hair will ever be."
Prussia nodded energetically and laughed. "That's what I told him!" The red set of eyes narrowed and a frown appeared on the man's face as he lowered his gaze to Denmark's stomach area. "Dude, why do you have four arms?"
The two new arms wrapped themselves tighter around the compact body of Denmark, and the awesome duo heard and audible sigh from behind Denmark.
Norway wasn't that much shorter than the nation he was embracing, but in comparison — Norway's thin arms around Denmark's chest, his head resting on Denmark's broad shoulders — he seemed so much smaller.
There was another audible sigh. Denmark grinned.
"Hey, Norge," he huffed. "What's the occasion?"
"I love you."
The awesome duo's faces turned pale.
"I-I-I'm sorry, N-Norge, I-I-I don't think I heard that correctly...?"
"I love you, Danmark," Norway repeated, sighing yet again. "I was thinking maybe you and I could go fishing tonight, while the weather is still moderate." Denmark wasn't sure if he should be worried or relieved that he wasn't able to see Norway's face there and then — however, if he knew Norway like he did, he probably had the same blank face he always had anyway. Norway continued: "Because you look beautiful under the moonlight. And we don't have to just fish, you know. My rowboat has never tipped over, you know that, and there's room for the both of us and even more."
Looking at Denmark, Prussia didn't know which action would be better: smirking teasingly at Norway's obvious insinuations, or turning around and walk away to give them their privacy (something he really wouldn't have done even if it was appropriate). The result was a clearly confused and helpless expression clinging to his face.
"What do you say?" A shiver went down Denmark's spine as Norway added a kiss to his neck at the end of his question.
"I, er, uh, I, uh," Denmark explained intelligently, and hardly noticed that Prussia grinned amused at Denmark's poor attempt of listing the vowels of the alphabet. "I... I-I-I'd like that very much."
"You're the most handsome man I know."
"Yeah?"
"Mh. I love everything about you. Your beautiful eyes — coloured like the deep sea and just as full of life — and your absolutely gorgeous smile, and your nose and, oh, I've always loved your eyebrows, I just love your eyebrows."
Denmark noticed that even though Norway was all over him with hands and lips and words, the nation's face still remained the same. Brows never raised, eyes never revealing, lips never smiling... It was... charming, in its own twisted way. It was Norway. And Denmark liked it.
"I think you're sexy," Norway continued, not letting go of Denmark's sinewy arm with the tight grip he used. (That's the price for love, Denmark thought.) "And if anyone tells you otherwise it's because they're too blind or stupid to see handsomeness even if it came up and danced on their head." Norway's grip got tighter for a brief moment, and Denmark choked on a pained exclamation. "You dance in my head all the time, Danmark."
The words emerging from Norway's mouth were beginning to become peculiar, Denmark thought. What was up with him, anyway? What caused this sudden need for expressing affection, and in public? Was that a Norwegian thing? He'd never seen it before, in any case. He smiled. He knew it had only been a matter of time before Norway realised how awesome he really was. All this talk about him being bothersome was merely a disguise for Norway's love, of course! That was the most likely situation.
This trail of thoughts were interrupted when he realised he'd entered the cafeteria and gathered his food, ever so absent-mindedly, and found his seat at the Nordics' table. Norway had stopped pouring his love in form of words all over Denmark at the moment, and sat down next to him, not taking his eyes off him for a second, not even to greet the other nations at the table.
Denmark mumbled his hellos to Iceland, Finland, Sweden and—
"Sealand, buddy!" Denmark and Sealand grinned equally widely as Denmark ruffled the young nation's hair (despite the fact that Sealand had made it clear that he didn't like being "patronized" by being treated like a child!). "What, is it 'join your parents to work' day?"
Sealand huffed, faking being insulted. "I'm a nation, too, you know! I don't need to go with my parents to go to a... meet... ing...?"
His sentence faded into nothingness as he witnessed the man whose clothes were almost identical to his own — only bigger and darker — stood up from his chair and crawled up in Denmark's lap and lay his head on said nation's shoulder with an affectionate sigh.
The silence that was at the Nordics' table was so intense that the noise from the other tables were drowned out. If Denmark was surprised at Norway's display, it was nothing compared to the surprise the other Nordics felt. Finland gaped like a guppy at feeding time, Sealand looked similarly speechless (but still holding onto where he had ended his sentence), and even though Sweden and Iceland were hard to read, Denmark were sure they hadn't expected anything like this.
"Uh," Denmark explained to the other nations, but discarded the idea that they probably needed more words to really understand the situation, and turned to the man in his lap. "Y-you know, Norge," he whispered, "I really like this, a-and maybe we could do this some other time, but I kind of came here to eat...?"
Norway's head jerked up quickly, and his usually impossible-to-read eyes told Denmark that the nation had a great idea. The plate with Denmark's lunch was soon in Norway's left hand, while a fork with a sample of the food was located in his right hand. Denmark saw Norway's intentions and found himself grinning sheepishly before letting Norway feed him the Swedish meatballs. Denmark could get used to this, he thought.
"Open," Norway chirped. "This plane, unlike your paper planes, will arrive at its destination... as will my lips when the plane has left again."
Denmark glanced away from Norway long enough to catch the expressions of the other Nordics, and he almost coughed up the food from laughing; Finland, while looking he wanted to say something — really badly! — had a face coloured like one of Spain's infamous tomatoes. However, what made Denmark want to laugh and never stop was the fact that while Finland was red and Iceland was white as snow, Sweden had somehow managed to turn green in hue.
As Norway has promised, Denmark's lips were visited by another set of soft lips after the fork had been removed. As Denmark kissed back, letting Norway taste the flavour of today's lunch, Sweden reached out his hand to shield Sealand's eyes from the abomination in front of them, but Sealand was conscious enough to already have turned around, sitting backwards on his chair and being far too interested in the conversation that took place between Poland and Lithuania at the other table.
Nobody noticed the almost invisible tears that were gathering in the corners of Iceland's eyes.
Without any real interruptions, Denmark managed to finish his lunch by being fed.
... like a child — but hey! It was Norway who fed him, so any feelings of embarrassment were automatically pushed away and hidden for the time being.
Any attempt of breaking up the two lovebirds failed; Finland sighed and chowed down the rest of his food as fast as he could before taking Sealand out of the cafeteria. Not long after that, Sweden left the table without a word, quickly followed by Iceland.
As the cafeteria started to become less and less crowded, the couple was equally more and more easily noticed by the other nations. One of these nations stopped in his tracks and stared at the cuddle-session that took place by the Nordics' table. He watched as Norway cupped Denmark's face in his hands, kissed his lips gently and slowly traced one finger down Denmark's neck and across his chest, back and forth, back and forth, as if wanting to unbutton the shirt and asking for permission without using words...
And America realised why England hadn't acted any different than usual.
—
"What is up with Norja?" Finland's face still had a blush, though noticeably less red than the one he had in the cafeteria. "In all my life I have never seen that apathetic Askeladd act like a lovesick schoolgirl."
Sweden said nothing. He didn't even bother with grunting. He knew this conversation would consist of every converser agreeing with one another. Until he heard something he disagreed with, he would remain quiet and listen to what the others had to say.
Prussia laughed. The whole situation was nothing but amusing to him. "You should've been there two minutes before you got here," he said. "Norwegen interrupted Dänemark in the middle of the joke he was telling, to show him a cloud that looked like him. Or, wait, wait," he added quickly, grinning wider. "He said 'that cloud looks like our love', or something cheesy like that!"
Sweden caught his breath in his throat, but still said nothing. No way was Prussia to find out that Sweden had said the same to Finland once.
—
The hours flew by, and the cuddling and the sweet words never ended. Denmark found himself listening to how cute, beautiful, handsome, pretty, nice, funny and brilliant he was, and suddenly realised that Norway sounded a lot like Denmark that way, except Norway wasn't talking about himself, and Denmark hardly spoke about anyone but himself in that manner. (He also noticed how Norway never happened to use the word "awesome", which kind of disappointed him.) This realisation made him grin in amusement, and again Norway told him how lovely his smile was.
The clock showed nine in the evening — or so Denmark assumed, as he and Norway had been sitting in Norway's rowing boat for a while now, and neither of them happened to have the time — but the darkness was far from taking over the rest of the daylight. Dragonflies and mosquitos lurked by the edge of the water, and occasional ripples on the surface showed the couple where the fish jumped at insects.
Catching fish was currently the least interesting thing the two could think of at the moment, though. Denmark felt strange. He couldn't remember the last time he had embraced someone in this manner and not expected anything more. Although the boat was indeed — as Norway had said — roomy enough for the two of them, standing was not an option, and the hug was rather awkward.
Still, Norway's bodyheat warmed Denmark, and they couldn't have gotten closer to each other even if they had tried. Norway's sweet words had taken a pause and had been replaced by soft kisses on Denmark's cheek and neck. Denmark wondered if his heart would break out of his chest soon.
Breaking the silence, he said, "I don't know what made you all this cuddly today, Norge, but... but I like it." Norway answered with a "mmmmmh"-typed sigh and kissed his neck again. Denmark grinned. "You finally realised you couldn't keep away from me anymore, huh?"
"Mmmmmh."
"I mean, I knew it would take some time for you to like me... I even considered that you might never like me the way I like you." Denmark paused, briefly wondering why he was admitting this now. "But... now you do like me... and... I'm happy."
"Mmh."
Great. As soon as Denmark wanted Norway to talk, the only thing he would get was a grunt. "Norge?"
Norway sat up, releasing himself from the safety of Denmark's arms. When their eyes met, Denmark immediately realised something was different. His heart sank.
"I've had..." Norway began, pausing to find the next words. "... I've had a long and embarrassing day, Danmark. I don't know what happened to me today, but I hope it never happens to me again."
"What are you talking about?"
Norway sighed — an annoyed sigh this time, Denmark noted. "I've said and done some things today that I never thought I would do or say. Please forget everything."
"I don't get it." Denmark was aware that his voice was hardly audible, but couldn't bring himself to do anything about it.
"Me neither," Norway mumbled.
"Norge... When you said you loved me..."
"I wasn't myself when I said it."
The immense silence that came along with the night's darkness revealed that Denmark wasn't breathing. Norway was about to remind him to do so, when Denmark let out a sigh that said more than words would have.
"Danmark..."
"Nevermind, I get it," Denmark mumbled and fixed his gaze on his shoes to avoid eye-contact. "You just got one of England's potions in your system and it made you über-affectionate, and now it's worn off. I get it."
"Don't be silly, Danmark, England doesn't work with potions."
Denmark smiled bitterly. "There goes the only logical explanation I have, then."
"Danmark, I'm..." Norway interrupted himself and decided to check the area around them for a moment. With the exception of the fish and the mosquitos, there were no living creatures in sight — then again the darkness hid most of the world from Norway's eyes. If he couldn't see any people — any nations — by the edge of the water, he doubted anyone could see him. Them.
"Danmark..." he repeated, his voice a whisper. He gently placed his hand on Denmark's, his thumb stroking Denmark's skin as an attempt of comforting him, and his other fingers trying to braid themselves in between Denmark's. The other nation tensed, but Norway pretended not to notice. "I'm sorry if you fell in love with the Norway you saw today..."
Denmark jerked his head up and glared at Norway, who was startled at the sudden movement and the unexpected facial expression. "That's not it," Denmark whispered, nearly hissing. His expression then softened. "I fell in love with you a long time ago. I just thought that today was the day you loved me back."
Norway didn't remove his hand from Denmark's. Nor did he move his gaze away from Denmark's piercing but clearly hurt eyes. He took a deep breath before speaking again.
"That day's already passed, you troublesome idiot."
"Huh?"
The Norwegian nation said no more. He just kept his blank eyes fixed on Denmark's lively ones, waiting for a reaction. He watched as Denmark studied Norway's face — or was he thinking really hard? — using the time he needed to find out what Norway meant — and if he meant it like it had sounded.
Then there was a grin, if ever so faint, on Denmark's face. "Really?"
"Mh."
"So if I want to kiss and hug you...?"
"Mh."
"In public?"
"Don't go there."
Denmark chuckled and dared himself to embrace Norway again, and as Norway let him do so, he was relieved to hear Denmark's laughter again. It meant that he was back to normal — on a Danish standard, of course. Denmark would never be able to mingle with Norwegians without standing out, even if he tried.
That was probably why he loved him.
A soft kiss on the neck told Denmark that this night was far from over.