Diplomatic Relations - 1905 [Rated R]

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Norway had just left Sweden's house after many years of complications. It has been almost a hundred years in his house, and it was not that he did not like the Swede - it was just the people were causing conflict. He must admit that he enjoyed some moments with him - those little and sometimes long periods of time alone with him. With a bag of belongings in his hand, he began to reminisce as he walked down a path nonchalantly. For so many years, he has been living in others' houses. How he yearned to finally be on his own instead of being forced and push around about. He mentally felt pretty content, even though there were many attempts to save the union between Sweden and him. Denied.

Without realizing it, he found himself in front of a house that did not belong to him. He cursed his instinctive actions, for it mentally lured him to this spot. It was a matter of tendency. Norway knew he would find himself here, but he did not know he would come back so soon. No, he's not going to give up his independence. Perhaps, it was a good time to establish diplomatic relations with Denmark. He was certain that was the reason his footsteps retracing back here.

Gripping the bag, he walked up to the door and then knocked. It's been years since he has really seen the nation face-to-face. All he could do was bite his lip until the door swings open.

---

Aha. After the Union Dissolution Day, Norway didn't exactly go back under Danish monarchy, but they did establish diplomatic relations after that. And that is what we are going to do, yes? :3

Subject: Re: Diplomatic Relations - 1905 [Rated R] Wed Mar 17, 2010 8:54 am

They hadn't spoken in a while.

Denmark inhaled tremulously, stuffing some of the tabacco into the creamy coloured pergamin. They hadn't spoken in a while. It was alright, Denmark told himself, rolling the paper carefully between his fingers, folding and creasing. He took great care in his handiwork this morning, like a Swiss clockmaster might, disguising the light shake of his famously steady fingers. It was alright, he told himself again, they hadn't spoken in a while, things like that happened without anyone of them being to blame. It wasn't like he expected letters from Norway, well, maybe one. Saying that he was doing well. Or something.

But then again. Sweden had been kind to him. Kinder than Denmark had been. Which drove the Dane insane. Sweden, godamn fucking Sweden, with his bloody hands all over Norway and that little bastard probably enjoyed it too.

He lit up from the stove like every self-respecting housewife did.

But this was politics and he had an explicit note from his monarch ordering him not to be an ass. And Norge. He just really wanted to see him. He really did. Just see him. Oh, god. He wondered if he had the time to pour himself something stiff.

There was a knock.

Greenish smoke strailing behind him, he went to open the door.

'...Norge' he croaked. The hoarseness of his voice surprising Denmark himself. He cleared his throat. ''Norge. Hei. Come in'

((sorry this sucks!!))

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Norway gazed at this man mutely for a second, just to absorb this image. His livid lips were still firm, lifeless, without any signs of moving. It was as though he was trying to figure out exactly how he was supposed to feel in the presence of Denmark - to see him again, it just seemed so surreal. The Dane looked different- a little pale, perhaps - yet it was always those lips that seized his interest. The sudden realization made him blink in a way as if he was shot in the throat with an arrow. Those sick temptations were trying to seduce him.

The last time that such a moment happened was very long ago. A simple good-bye evening they shared with each other, with their bodies twisting and arching like entwined flames, their breathing stifled and wet. Years has passed since then; such memories were a little hard to recall. The silence between them did not last for so long. He merely breathed, "Hei." Stubborn as always, he glanced off, avoid the other's eyes and then walked in after saying, "Thanks."

He placed his bag carefully on the coffee table, yet he did not try to make himself comfortable nor did he try to familiarize himself in the home; he does not live here anymore. Norway merely sat down on the armchair and stared at the empty one across from him. "I need to talk to you about a few things." He announced coolly before his eyes met Denmark's.

Subject: Re: Diplomatic Relations - 1905 [Rated R] Sat Mar 20, 2010 4:56 am

He lay a hand of Norway's shoulder briefly, half of him wanting to just lean in and kiss him lightly, old familiarity slipping back in as if it had never been forgotten, as that long long time of probably welcome (at least in Norge's case) separation had not taken place. Denmark removed his hand a hastily, as if it burned him, nodding a mute apology to Norway as the other entered his house. What was that saying about old habits?....Yeah, his definitely seemed to be dying hard.

It was a bit huh, a bit awkward. With them not looking at each-other like that, but then again Denmark couldn't say what else he had expected...well, apart from the falling into one another's arms scenario that it seemed, wasn't quite working out right now.

He had never really had any trouble speaking before, not even, or maybe especially then, when Norge was quiet himself, he'd go on rants or just talk mostly to himself and the younger man would either give him and eyeroll of his heavy-lidded eyes or just a tiny, tiny shade of a smile, which Denmark could never figure out whether it was just to tease him or give him permission to carry on.

Last time he saw Norway, the other was scorching his skin, branding him like hot metal and Denmark felt like he was torn between moans and dry sobs, because he knew that Norge would not be there when he woke up.

As Norway sat down, the taller man followed, taking the other chair.
He nodded.
"Yeah, I imagine you'd want to re-establish some connection, right?"

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During the silence before Denmark seated on the opposite chair, Norway was just musing. It was real - that shiver from his touch. It was merely a friendly gesture and yet those chemical reactions burst within him. It applied to nations too.

He eyed the Dane, his eyes placid and blank like those of a porcelain doll; they are eyes of a trap, luring misconceptions in until they find out those orbs are made out of cold steel. How his body yearned for another touch. Just another would suffice. He bit his lip with disdain for a short moment as he tried to shake away temptation with reasoning. Denmark's words confirmed it and he was able to clear his head. During that lapse of time from lust and back to his usual demeanor, he moved not a muscle on his face. Then he began to speak.

"Yes. I have just gained Independence from Sweden not too long ago. I am on my own now." He ran his fingers through his blond hair but stopped when he felt the clip. He hastily fixed it as he continued, "My boss said that our connections are... deep." It was very deep, actually. He made an unpleased expression all of the sudden with his eyebrows knitted as if he was annoyed. "So I'm here to establish some relations with you. As two separate nations. I suppose you are fine?"

Norway didn't know what to expect. If that gut feeling is correct, then Denmark will take the offer - he was almost overconfident. Though considering that he left him for Sweden, that made him rethink about this said feeling.

Subject: Re: Diplomatic Relations - 1905 [Rated R] Tue Mar 23, 2010 3:37 pm

Denmark felt like breaking something. Sweden's skulll would be his natural preference of course, though by this point he would have settled for some fragile kitchenware. Though he reckoned it would have risen a pair of fair eye-brows in both incredulity and irritation. But he could not stand still when Sweden and Norway figured together in the same sentence (which was why he broke a lot of innocent crockery over the past years) . He was one of the first to hear, apart of course from the married-soon-to-be- ex-married couple in question. Part of Denmark felt relieved. Relieved that Sweden, Sweden, who godamn fucking bastard, managed to me kinder to Norway (despite, of that the Dane was sure, loving Norge less that Denmark himself did. If at all), still failed at making Norge happy in the end.
He knew that the dissolution of the Swedish-Norwegian union did not mean that Eirik would just come back to him. Not on the same conditions he used to, anyway.

Eirik Hanssen was a free nation now, no longer living under the underside of anyone's shoe, no longer less significant, no longer an object of arguments between Sweden and Denmark. perhaps it was liberty that Norge needed to be happy in the first place, for even though the other's expressions (or rather lack thereof ) hadn't changed and those large violet eyes remained blank Denmark, who had spent his entire life trying to learn how to read Norway could tell that he seemed content. In his own silent and contained way.

'So I've heard' the Dane replied, getting up from his chair in search of an ashtray and mmmm...maybe some coffee? Yeah coffee sounded good. Besides Norge fell head over heels with that baverage the second they imported the bloody thing.

'That is one way of putting it' he replied, all diplomatical amusement, smashing his half-smoked cigarette into a nymph-shaped patera. Not without some vengeance. Norge wanted him to keep his distance? Fine then. Fine and dandy with him. He could be distant sure. He'd be the King of Distance, with flower bloody wreaths on. He'd be so distant that he'd even put Norge, the freaking iceberg, to shame. Youse just watch and learn.

He put the kettle on.
'So any grand designs I should know about?' he asked casually, immediately regretting having extinguished that cigarette. It was much easier to keep your hands to yourself when they were occupied. He hadn't thought of that, damn. Denmark sat back down. 'How would yer boss like our new....ah...connection to look like?'

Fucking bollocks. This was ridiculous. He didn't even speak to strangers like that, let alone Norge. He knew how the man's breath hitched when he was about to come better than he knew his own fucking name. How was he expected to just pretend?

Just stay calmcalmcalm.

(updated via phone so I do apologise if it sucks )

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For some reason, Norway took this as some kind of surreal nonsense. It's been years, and it has not just been one or two - it has been over a few decades. Even if such a large timeframe is nearly meaningless, he expected something more than just a welcome. That was what he expected. Mathias... is just playing casual. It irked him - not only is he easily annoyed, but everything about him just has its own way. Eirik knew that things can't go as expected, yet he has been anticipating this meeting for too long.

Yet, he remained in his seat. His eyes followed Denmark's body like a longing predator. Addressing the question, his hand reacted by moving a strand of hair behind his ear, "Not really. Something that would benefit to the both of us would suffice." He was about to say something along the lines of 'satisfaction'. Ridiculous. "Naturally he just wants our relationship to deepen. Not too complicated. Although if we are to do this according to their exact whim, we would be in a conference hall, would we?" He leaned back, his arms crossed and he almost spoke with a teasing tone. "This is between us. How this will happen can remain confidential."

He was willing to let it happen. Again, he brushed his bangs aside and as that hand moved across his face, he revealed a small smirk.

Last edited by Denmark on Fri Apr 16, 2010 7:22 pm; edited 1 time in total

Regardless to all the centuries, god, maybe even millenia the two had known each other Denmark could never seemed to have comprehended one thing. How the younger nation could keep his face so flawlessly, impossibly blank through all of this. Motherfucking blank sheet, tabula rasa as Locke would say, it was as if Denmark tore his heart and veins for this and Norway would just shrug, which would probably not be excluded from happening all together. It had always been Denmark. Chasing Norway as if he was a a cat toy dangled before him. Not that Denmark cared of course, as the capacity for feeling as if he was making a fool out of himself or even mere reflection was almost completely beyond him.

However, there was still the 'almost' factor and after Norge left, Denmark had a lot of time on his hands. And after the initial 'smash-everything-in-your nearset-vicinity' rage, that burned in his veins like liquid iron and those pointless wars he got himself into, not realizing that he was not as strong as he once was, not a conquerer anymore but a mere follower of the present continental situation.

Denmark's smirk was both sour and knowing.
'I am surprised' he said, sounding spiteful despite his best efforts. 'I didn't expect you to come back for that of all things, Norge. What happened, you didn't get enough from Sweden?'

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Norway's smirk remained, short-lived. Denmark tone was something he didn't expect right away but he knew a his hint would be not warmly greeted. No, it was a mistake. He wanted it to be a mistake, for he himself denied this desire. That said desired backed up and hid away behind his wall of steel. His lips returned to being stretched from side to side, his eyes lowering to compete Denmark.

"What are you talking about..." he literally spoke through his teeth. The nation straightened his position, cautious of the comfort all of the sudden. Sweden and Denmark were different nations, different experiences. Though they had one thing in common. With the same spite, he made a cruel, half-hearted, smirk. "You can say that it is a decision made by myself and no other. He has nothing to do with this."

He wondered why Denmark said that. Why he just had to say that. Why he just had to be degraded into some kind of a whore. For years, hundred of years for what felt like thousands, he had been subjected under another nation. A carry-out lackey. He had no say when he was brought over to Sweden. Like an object, he was moved from one house to the other. Used without a say. He felt that he was an object of revenge at Sweden's house. A mute trophy.

Nevertheless, he had to give in to everything. Respond to those kisses and touches because it was his duty as the object. He had to succumb or adapt. It was a natural defense mechanism for him to appear listless and uncaring at every opportunity. He didn't want to appear weak. Easy.

Here he was, yet again, facing the one who gave him away. Purposely? He thought not. Norway was aware of Denmark's crushed pride. And for him to loosen up and willingly visit him again, offer another chance to make up, just to hear this. Spit on again, that was how he felt. Did Denmark really recognize that Norway was his own nation? He certainly hoped so because that was kept him glued on to his seat rather than out the door.

Subject: Re: Diplomatic Relations - 1905 [Rated R] Sat Jun 19, 2010 2:50 am

He was perfectly aware he shouldn't have spoken like this. Norway could hardly be blamed for anything that happened to him, for anything that kept happening to him, really, as it had never been his fault. More of those that were around him, more Denmark's fault than anyone else's to be exact. Just look at him now, finally having disentangled himself from all the greedy clutches he had been held in since, well, since they both could remember, Norge was thriving. He looked gorgeous.

And yet, Denmark pathetically could not get over his petty jelaousy. He couldn't even understand it himself, he was never insecure enough (or at all, if you happened to be Denmark) to be the jelaous type, hell, his rather corrupted concept of partnership, developed through years of observations of palace life and his fellow soldiers, revolved largely around the idea of two people walking together, trying to remember all the different shit they were supposed to lie to each-other about. Norge and him didn't exactly follow that rule back when they were together, but they didn't eagerly abstrain from it either. But this was largely a point of pride, something that in Denmark's world could not be as easily omitted or brushed off as everything else.

It was this bone-crushing knowledge that he had failed, failed to maintain the union, failed to keep Norway content enough with what they had and lost it all in the most degrading way possible. To Sweden. He was aware how utterly stupid it all seemed if you looked at it from some sort of distance, but he still could not get over himself and move the fuck on. Which was why he couldn't have keep his big fat gob shut for the life of him. All this insane rage and frustration having faded away from it's self-destructive primary strength to burn dully at the back of Mathias's mind.

"He's got everything to do with this" Denmark bit back, regretting it almost immediately and yet not able to muster an apology, despite feeling that he did owe Norge one. Probably a big one at that too.

((sorry this sucks so bad! my muse died after the first paragraph))

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"Not anymore." Norway replied firmly with eyes as sharp icicles. He, initially, had no intention of dragging on that response. Yet he continued flatly in a mixture annoyance and impatience, "If that is so, then he'd be here in my place." If he could utter more emotion, he would have twisted his tongue to an angrier tone. The chemistry of emotion remained bottled in his head, shut away. It was the eyes that acted as a decoy of deceit; they value in how they have the ability to reveal absolutely nothing.

Then he closed his eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, fracturing the perfect expression of ennui. Why does Denmark have to be an idiot, he thought. It just made everything harder. He pressed his lips softly, fluttering both eyes open slightly. His blond hair fell over his eyes, darkening his nearly angelic looking complexion as he silently debated on what to say. It embarassed him to the point it made him numb, and hence he gazed elsewhere. "I just wanted to see you again." He mumbled, almost too modestly in its hushed tone.

It was because Denmark is an idiot that Norway loved him. In the end, Eirik would be the one with the broken walls of defenses. It took a few years for authenticity to muster out from his lips, shy yet wistful. He didn't want to give up just yet.

(It's alright! And dear God Denmark, did I tell you I MISSED YOU? )

Subject: Re: Diplomatic Relations - 1905 [Rated R] Mon Jul 05, 2010 8:34 am

"I see" Denmark said evenly, holding the other's gaze. Norway's eyes, usually half-lidded and utterly uninterested, surveying the world as if it were a mildly interesting plant, were wide open, intent and cold. His heart skipped an excited beat. That was as much as he could get from Norge in terms of a fiesty reaction. Things between them have not changed as much as he expected.

Denmark had to bite his lip, from all the questions that were threatening to get out, really annoying ones that would quite probably make a petulant twelve year old feel more than a little self-consious. Questions like did you like him more than me?, was living with him better than it had been with me? and the constant i'm so sorry for all the things i have done to you. And yet. Norge had forgiven him, had he not? He was here, right? standing right in front of him, taking part in this semi-reminiscent stare off. Denmark had been forgiven. And there he was acting like a total twit, reluctantly realizing it himself.

"I just wanted to see you again."

Mathias nearly decked himself, or at least he did so mentally. God this utter lack of the ability to tie facts together seemed to have stopped working out for him. Long ago. How could he be so selfish and stupid? What had he been thinking this entire time? About his fucked up sibling rivalry with Sweden. God, he was such an ass. While Norge stood there, free, free at last and here, here to see him. If idiocity had been a terminal illness Denmark would be nothing but ashes and dust by now.
Walking up briskly to the other man, Denmark smiled. Earnestly, for the first time, the clouds diminished from his face completely.
"See, this whole separation thing didn't work out so well for me, eh?" he said, with a self-deprecating laugh, his large palm reaching up to gently smooth over Norway's soft cheek, re-reading the braille of his skin. "There's no one to smack me when I'm being an imbecile anymore"

((i missed u too! we need to compensate with pr0n))

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He was halfway ashamed of himself to the point he almost regret it. The bitter silence ticked away, eating him. He didn't dare look at Denmark, but he heard soft footsteps. His gaze remained averted in its own stubborn manner. Denmark said something but he didn't even care to listen, still anesthetized in his thoughts.

A gentle touch. His nerves tingled, fluttering and burning against his skin like falling snowflakes. Unlike snowflakes, this sensation was warm. Norway turn his head and looked up to see something brilliant: his smile, authentic. It came to Norway immediately that he was jealous of that smile. How is it that Denmark can pull out such a weapon with ease? He wondered if the Dane even knew of its potential, its ability to entice.

He let out a soft chuckle, the edges of his lips curling up ever so slightly. "Then allow me to make up for what I missed out on."

First, he placed a soft hand over Denmark's and as he stood up, he moved the hand down. He tilted his head placidly with analytical eyes, silently studying. Footing was in the right position, but then he commenced by pivoting his left foot. The muscles in his arm moved up as hands curled into a stiff fist. At the desired angle, he thrust his fist to the Denmark's cheek, swinging it across in a perfect crescent swoop. His face was pleasantly candid during the split second, enjoying the searing pain he had inflicted on the other.

Now for the next step. He stepped forward, caught the Dane's waving tie and pulled him close, ignoring any remarks, retorts, or reactions. Norway's grip was steady and strong, mirroring his own eyes. Without a moment to spare, light as a flying feather, he pulled Denmark in for the finishing kiss. An apology for the punch and an action to obtain satisfaction.

(With pleasure ♥ )