Chapter Text
'…bombings in Syria continue at a time- '
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'…when the African maned wolf is-'
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'…in love with a fairytale, even though-'
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'…heavy rain is forecasted-'
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'…legend-wait for it-dary-'
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Denmark gave a frustrated groan and switched off the TV with a brutal finality, tossing the remote away carelessly. He had had a difficult day at work, he was tired, there was nothing interesting to watch, and life was boring.
Boring.
Boring wasn't a word that he would use to describe himself, neither was it a word he thought he would ever need to describe his life. He was supposed to be one of the happiest nations on earth - if not the happiest - full of humour and vigour and the sort of brash liveliness that was always associated with frat parties and lots and lots of alcohol.
Flopping down on the couch and letting his eyes fall shut on their own, Denmark wondered exactly how and when everything in his life became so still.
He woke half an hour later to the sound of the front door opening and shutting, followed by footsteps. Only one other person apart from him had the key.
Nor, he thought idly, shifting in his place to get more comfortable. They'd been married for what, thirty years now?
Thirty six, he corrected himself, allowing the much desired lull of sleep claim him once again, when-
'Denmark.'
He sighed inwardly and grunted back. 'Hmm?'
There was the sound of something being dropped on the table; going by the rustle of paper hitting wood, it probably was paperwork or some shit – they had been bringing their work home a lot lately.
'I want a divorce.'
Denmark cracked open a bleary eye to his husband's blank stare.
'Huh?'
'I want a divorce,' Norway reiterated.
He cracked open another bleary eye. 'Come again?'
'I want a divorce. It's the last time I'm repeating it, so heaven help you if you can't register it after three times' worth saying.'
Denmark slowly sat up and stifled a yawn, trying to rub the last vestiges of his (sadly destroyed) sleep away from his eyes.
'Uh, why?'
Norway simply shrugged as the Dane curiously picked up one of the papers from the table – one of the divorce papers. 'I think we need a break.'
Denmark dropped the sheet, letting it float back to the table. 'What did I do?'
'It's not you, it's—'Norway exhaled lowly, pinching the bridge of his nose and sat down beside him.
'It's you?' Denmark laughed and turned to the other, slowly tilting him back. 'Don't give me that old bullshit, hon. But seriously. What did I do?'
'Surprising though it may be, nothing. It's simply just not working out.'
'What isn't?' Denmark was straddling him now, his hand trailing leisurely up and down his thigh, occasionally skirting around to cup his ass. He dipped down to the Norwegian's mouth, not close enough for a kiss, but close enough to feel his breath and his heartbeat, dropping his voice to a low husky whisper. 'The sex?'
The sex? Who was he kidding; they weren't even really intimate any more. Even the morning goodbye kiss as they left for work was reduced to a hurried press of lip against lip, just a ritual, an obligation, a duty they as a married couple had to fulfill to say I will come home to you tonight.
In hindsight, he should have seen a demand for separation coming sooner or later.
Norway swallowed involuntarily, trying to gather his scattered thoughts together. Sure, he wanted to part ways, but his traitorous body still stirred to Denmark's thatvoice. 'It isn't. Everything.' He waved his hand in that elegant way of his to stress his point. 'Everything. You. Me. This house. This…life that we share.'
'Norwegian TV,' Denmark muttered, still not moving away.
Norway simply raised an eyebrow and decided to let it pass. For the time being. 'The point is I believe we should take a break. Take time off.'
'But a divorce, Nor?'
'I've been thinking for a while and I deem it best.'
He sat back on his heels, still straddling him. 'What if I don't?' He asked stubbornly, looking into Norway's dark eyes that reminded him so much of the aurora borealis.
'Then you clearly are an idiot.'
'I thought I already was?'
'...I just want to be free.'
Free. Denmark tensed. Oh, it was a cruel argument Norway was using - referring back to their days as a union by demanding freedom, and they both knew it. They held each other's gazes for what seemed to stretch till eternity before Denmark sighed and got off. 'Dinner?'
A pause.
'And about the—?'
A sigh. 'Can I sleep on it?'
Norway gave a wry smile. 'Sure.'
Denmark returned his smile. 'Do you hate me, Norge?'
He seemed taken aback by the question. 'Do I hate you?'
'Yeah.'
There was another pause, longer than the last.
'No, not really.'
Norway took the couch that night.
Denmark lay awake in their king-sized bed, staring blankly at the ceiling and trying to search for answers.
How long had Norway been thinking about separation?
Was it really for the best, for the greater good?
What was he going to do about it?
Denmark rolled onto his side.
He wasn't getting any sleep.
There on the dresser, stacked into a neat pile, were the clean white papers. They were almost luminescent in the moonlight, almost ghostly. On the top sheet was Norway's elegant signature; just one more and he'd have won.
But he wouldn't sign.
Or would he?
At least Norway didn't hate him.
Denmark unconsciously clenched his fists. They should have got a dog or something. A cute one, which was white and fluffy, like Sweden and Finland had. Or maybe even adopted a kid. Something that they'd have tirelessly fought over, anything that'd have delayed the decision, and maybe even changed the outcome.
Denmark climbed out of bed. He wasn't breathing right. It was…either too fast, or too slow. He couldn't decide. The room was too warm. And there was something wrong with his arm. It felt…like it didn't belong to him. Alien. Numb. He needed to put it somewhere, around someone.
So he was…really tired. Admittedly he hadn't got much sleep the previous night either, but this time he was also fucking stressed.
Stressed over the future.
When exactly was the last time he's been stressed over the fucking future?
Slipping on a bathrobe, he exited the room and crept slowly downstairs. He reached the couch and moved a step forward, and then moved a couple of steps back for better observation. Norway was sleeping with his mouth slightly open and an arm hanging down, trailing the floor. He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, and so, so beautiful in his own handsome way that Denmark toyed with the idea of forcing him to stay, maybe even beating him into submission like he had back in the day, but dismissed the thought it almost as quickly as it came, apalled. He wasn't a monster, he had changed.
He really wanted Norway to stay. Because he was still in love with him, no matter what. Because the quieter nation understood him like none other.
And it was all about understanding.
He crossed his arms and watched him sleep. Sure, his life had become boring and utterly stagnant, but Norway was still the most interesting thing that had ever happened to him.
Minutes turned to hours and the sun slowly crept over the horizon while he simply stood there and watched.
Norway was still the most interesting thing that had ever happened to him, and he sure as hell was not letting him go.