Norway's arms tighten around the baby, and he resists the urge to press a kiss to Iceland's head. It wasn't as if he even considered leaving him: once he saw the boy, he knew that he couldn't leave him behind. Maybe Denmark and Sweden had felt the same when they'd first found him, but Norway had found himself practically pushing his men out of the way to see this child they'd brought back to show him. The baby- old enough to sit up, and unable to do much else- had fixed wide violet eyes on him, and with a gurgle, reached out to him.
Norway had picked him up, let Iceland nestle himself into his chest so perfectly that he knew he belonged there, and hadn't put him down since.
“I wouldn't expect it of you.” Norway glances up warily at Denmark's voice, but the other nation is grinning, eyes focused on Iceland. “Can I hold him?”
On one hand, Norway trusts him completely. On the other, he refuses to put Iceland down. There's an awkward stillness between the two, before Norway gingerly holds Iceland out to him. Mercifully, Denmark doesn't drop him- with surprising ease, he takes the baby and adjusts him in his arms, an odd sight amidst the heavy armour he's still wearing. The Norwegian still stands by his side, ready to take hold of him in a moment's notice, and Sweden holds up a grumbling Finland so he can see Iceland properly.
“He's a cute little thing, isn't he?” Denmark remarks casually, squinting at Iceland's features and running a hand over his white hair. “He kind of looks like you. I've never seen hair like that, though. It's almost too pale.”
“He is Iceland.” As if on cue, Iceland stirs, shifting his little body and blinking open wide eyes. At the sight of Denmark, he starts whining, clearly alarming the Dane at the oncoming tears. “He doesn't recognise you- here, give him to me-”
Denmark passes Iceland to him as if scalding, and in his brother's arms, Iceland settles, tiny hand curling around Norway's thumb. He can't hold back his smile, leaning down to press a kiss to the child's forehead, as he feels Denmark's arm encircle his waist.
“Not that I'd want to stay home and take care of a kid,” he says in a low voice, quiet enough that Sweden and Finland won't hear, “but you're lucky that he's yours. You're lucky you found a kid of your own.”
Norway nodded, too focused on his brother to correct Denmark.
Not his. Ours.
-
author!anon apologises for the delay- they have a dozen odd requests to finish, and wrote in a different style from what they're known for on the fanfiction website to avoid recognition. I hope you're all enjoying this!
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Denmark/Norway - Five Times, Five Words (3b/5)
(Anonymous) 2013-07-16 12:27 pm (UTC)(link)Norway had picked him up, let Iceland nestle himself into his chest so perfectly that he knew he belonged there, and hadn't put him down since.
“I wouldn't expect it of you.” Norway glances up warily at Denmark's voice, but the other nation is grinning, eyes focused on Iceland. “Can I hold him?”
On one hand, Norway trusts him completely. On the other, he refuses to put Iceland down. There's an awkward stillness between the two, before Norway gingerly holds Iceland out to him. Mercifully, Denmark doesn't drop him- with surprising ease, he takes the baby and adjusts him in his arms, an odd sight amidst the heavy armour he's still wearing. The Norwegian still stands by his side, ready to take hold of him in a moment's notice, and Sweden holds up a grumbling Finland so he can see Iceland properly.
“He's a cute little thing, isn't he?” Denmark remarks casually, squinting at Iceland's features and running a hand over his white hair. “He kind of looks like you. I've never seen hair like that, though. It's almost too pale.”
“He is Iceland.” As if on cue, Iceland stirs, shifting his little body and blinking open wide eyes. At the sight of Denmark, he starts whining, clearly alarming the Dane at the oncoming tears. “He doesn't recognise you- here, give him to me-”
Denmark passes Iceland to him as if scalding, and in his brother's arms, Iceland settles, tiny hand curling around Norway's thumb. He can't hold back his smile, leaning down to press a kiss to the child's forehead, as he feels Denmark's arm encircle his waist.
“Not that I'd want to stay home and take care of a kid,” he says in a low voice, quiet enough that Sweden and Finland won't hear, “but you're lucky that he's yours. You're lucky you found a kid of your own.”
Norway nodded, too focused on his brother to correct Denmark.
Not his. Ours.
-
author!anon apologises for the delay- they have a dozen odd requests to finish, and wrote in a different style from what they're known for on the fanfiction website to avoid recognition. I hope you're all enjoying this!
Super Late OP
(Anonymous) 2013-08-20 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)I'm still really enjoying this fill and I look forward to the next update.