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nordicromanceTitle: You're Beautiful, I Want You to Walk
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kainoliero
Assigned prompt DenIce- Telephone [Optional: Fire]
Other characters and pairings: IDK does a little bit of David Bowie count?
Rating: G
Summary: I suppose it could be called a lucky misunderstanding, or perhaps miracles are closer to what needs to happen before Iceland gets all mushy at Denmark.
You're Beautiful, I Want You to Walk
“I've told you I don't need you anymore so stop that.”
Denmark felt his shoulders sag a little at how annoyed Iceland sounded like. Regardless, this was not simply about Iceland and Iceland's feelings now and he fought to make his words come out right for once.
“You know I'm worried, kid. Come on, humour me a little here -”
“I'm okay, get it in your head. This is nothing new to me and I really need to go now because things are burning as we speak. But,” and Iceland's voice faltered a little, “thank you for the concern.”
Click.
Well, so much for that, Denmark thought and let the receiver fall. A sudden urge to pick it up again and dial a number he by now knew by heart gripped him for a moment but then it was gone, just as soon as it had arrived. No one would pick it up, he knew. By now Iceland knew it would only be him so for the next hour or so all attempts at contacting him would be futile. However, his last line had stuck on his mind because it had been something totally unexpected as it was not his way of showing gratitude of any kind. Really, most of the times Iceland still acted like the Independence Movement was still going on... he looked up at the calendar on the wall and realized it was the previous year's one that he had had no time to change, and took it down absentmindedly.
He dug his feet into the warm and fashionably hairy shag carpet, let the calendar fall where it may and selected an LP – one of the newest ones – and placed it carefully in the record player. He skipped over the first song. “Five Years” always made him slightly depressed and that was the last kind of a feeling that he would need now.
The feeling kept nagging at him. Denmark was not the type to linger, not even (or one could say in particular not) on matters that were hard to understand. Yet he had once upon a time, long, long ago been in a position where his and his people's lives hung on his instinct and he knew the sound of trouble when he heard it. This, possibly, had been the reason he had called Iceland for – was it eleven times now – yes – during the last hour. The first time he had called Iceland had scoffed at him in his usual way, told him he was too busy to chat and hung up on him and even though this was by no means unusual coming from Iceland, Denmark had perhaps picked up something in the voice that had made chills run down his spine.
He opened his pocket almanac and checked if there was anything special marked on the day but no, it seemed to have been quite an ordinary Monday for all Nordics. There, just as he had marked it down, was the little note that Iceland was going to try his hand at baking rye bread, Danish style. It should not have been anything important to him, had never been before but somehow things had subtly changed during the years after Iceland claimed his long-awaited independence and left. Denmark felt as if he'd been left standing alone while Iceland walked away, never once looking back.
He shook his head sharply. There was no need for self-pitying thoughts like these. Iceland was still a Nordic country and therefore remained in close contact with the rest. Indeed, he decided, he had probably only been a little bit curious as to how Iceland would manage and that was all there was to it. As for calling him, it had simply felt like a welcome idea after a whole night of paperwork which got rather boring and repetitious but had to be done. Since Denmark had joined the European Union earlier that month his nights had included a lot more it than sleep.
The clock on his wall began to strike and Denmark realized with a jolt of embarrassement that it was somehow already five a.m. All those matters that needed going over had so gripped his attention that without him noticing it was now already Tuesday and 23rd and here he was, trying to call up Iceland when the time difference meant the hours were even smaller at his place, and for what reason – bread! No wonder Iceland had sounded so tense! Denmark could imagine him jumping up from his bed and running downstairs, shivering in his pajamas of both tiredness and the cold air of the early morning, only to hear Denmark's eternal questions on whether all was going alright and if he wanted some help, or advice.
Denmark hung his head and covered his face with his hands. But wait. Something still did not fit. Why, of all things, would Iceland ever, ever thank him in a situation like this? And why of all things would he still be baking when it was probably only two or three a.m. at his place? There had also been that audible dent in his voice, like he had had to swallow hard in the middle of a sentence. Denmark's mind was all too clouded by working late and lack of sleep and he had almost not realized any of this, but now it was all he could think of.
Denmark let out a long breath. Iceland had insisted he was ok and that could have been all he needed to know. The kid was actually no longer a kid and odd sleeping patterns aside he probably was right. He could take care of himself just fine. The best Denmark could do meanwhile was to stop bothering him via the telephone and perhaps get some much needed rest himself... and later on he would definitely have to remember to go out and buy a new wall calendar.
The sound of the telephone rang through his house so loud and sudden that he jumped in his chair. He almost ran to pick it up, cursing at himself for his inexplainable sense of urgency. The voice on the other end was quiet and uncharacteristically gentle.
“It's just me. Look, go to bed already. I just wanted to say that, that, that, get some sleep already, ok? I'm fine. I know it's probably hard when you don't know how these things work but don't wear yourself out, I can handle things on my own now.”
For a moment it sounded like Iceland was trying to select his words for something more to say but in the end all he said was:
“Sleep well.”
Click.
Well, that certainly didn't make things any clearer. Denmark looked at his almanac again as if searching for advice there but none had appeared on it since the last time he had opened it. The wall calendar seemed to be watching him in silence from the chair he had dropped it on and the happy little note he had scribbled on the side of the number 1972 was something about how the year would be the longest year ever, if only by a few seconds. Longest year, indeed. Tonight would give it a run for its money in terms of length, that was for sure!
End notes: 23rd Jan 1973 at 1.00 a.m. a volcano started erupting on Heimaey, Iceland. All the people living on the island had to be evacuated in a hurry and had to leave everything behind, not knowing whether their homes would survive or not. The evacuations were done on whatever ships and boats were available and took a good part of the night to complete.
Author/Artist:
kainolieroAssigned prompt DenIce- Telephone [Optional: Fire]
Other characters and pairings: IDK does a little bit of David Bowie count?
Rating: G
Summary: I suppose it could be called a lucky misunderstanding, or perhaps miracles are closer to what needs to happen before Iceland gets all mushy at Denmark.
You're Beautiful, I Want You to Walk
“I've told you I don't need you anymore so stop that.”
Denmark felt his shoulders sag a little at how annoyed Iceland sounded like. Regardless, this was not simply about Iceland and Iceland's feelings now and he fought to make his words come out right for once.
“You know I'm worried, kid. Come on, humour me a little here -”
“I'm okay, get it in your head. This is nothing new to me and I really need to go now because things are burning as we speak. But,” and Iceland's voice faltered a little, “thank you for the concern.”
Click.
Well, so much for that, Denmark thought and let the receiver fall. A sudden urge to pick it up again and dial a number he by now knew by heart gripped him for a moment but then it was gone, just as soon as it had arrived. No one would pick it up, he knew. By now Iceland knew it would only be him so for the next hour or so all attempts at contacting him would be futile. However, his last line had stuck on his mind because it had been something totally unexpected as it was not his way of showing gratitude of any kind. Really, most of the times Iceland still acted like the Independence Movement was still going on... he looked up at the calendar on the wall and realized it was the previous year's one that he had had no time to change, and took it down absentmindedly.
He dug his feet into the warm and fashionably hairy shag carpet, let the calendar fall where it may and selected an LP – one of the newest ones – and placed it carefully in the record player. He skipped over the first song. “Five Years” always made him slightly depressed and that was the last kind of a feeling that he would need now.
The feeling kept nagging at him. Denmark was not the type to linger, not even (or one could say in particular not) on matters that were hard to understand. Yet he had once upon a time, long, long ago been in a position where his and his people's lives hung on his instinct and he knew the sound of trouble when he heard it. This, possibly, had been the reason he had called Iceland for – was it eleven times now – yes – during the last hour. The first time he had called Iceland had scoffed at him in his usual way, told him he was too busy to chat and hung up on him and even though this was by no means unusual coming from Iceland, Denmark had perhaps picked up something in the voice that had made chills run down his spine.
He opened his pocket almanac and checked if there was anything special marked on the day but no, it seemed to have been quite an ordinary Monday for all Nordics. There, just as he had marked it down, was the little note that Iceland was going to try his hand at baking rye bread, Danish style. It should not have been anything important to him, had never been before but somehow things had subtly changed during the years after Iceland claimed his long-awaited independence and left. Denmark felt as if he'd been left standing alone while Iceland walked away, never once looking back.
He shook his head sharply. There was no need for self-pitying thoughts like these. Iceland was still a Nordic country and therefore remained in close contact with the rest. Indeed, he decided, he had probably only been a little bit curious as to how Iceland would manage and that was all there was to it. As for calling him, it had simply felt like a welcome idea after a whole night of paperwork which got rather boring and repetitious but had to be done. Since Denmark had joined the European Union earlier that month his nights had included a lot more it than sleep.
The clock on his wall began to strike and Denmark realized with a jolt of embarrassement that it was somehow already five a.m. All those matters that needed going over had so gripped his attention that without him noticing it was now already Tuesday and 23rd and here he was, trying to call up Iceland when the time difference meant the hours were even smaller at his place, and for what reason – bread! No wonder Iceland had sounded so tense! Denmark could imagine him jumping up from his bed and running downstairs, shivering in his pajamas of both tiredness and the cold air of the early morning, only to hear Denmark's eternal questions on whether all was going alright and if he wanted some help, or advice.
Denmark hung his head and covered his face with his hands. But wait. Something still did not fit. Why, of all things, would Iceland ever, ever thank him in a situation like this? And why of all things would he still be baking when it was probably only two or three a.m. at his place? There had also been that audible dent in his voice, like he had had to swallow hard in the middle of a sentence. Denmark's mind was all too clouded by working late and lack of sleep and he had almost not realized any of this, but now it was all he could think of.
Denmark let out a long breath. Iceland had insisted he was ok and that could have been all he needed to know. The kid was actually no longer a kid and odd sleeping patterns aside he probably was right. He could take care of himself just fine. The best Denmark could do meanwhile was to stop bothering him via the telephone and perhaps get some much needed rest himself... and later on he would definitely have to remember to go out and buy a new wall calendar.
The sound of the telephone rang through his house so loud and sudden that he jumped in his chair. He almost ran to pick it up, cursing at himself for his inexplainable sense of urgency. The voice on the other end was quiet and uncharacteristically gentle.
“It's just me. Look, go to bed already. I just wanted to say that, that, that, get some sleep already, ok? I'm fine. I know it's probably hard when you don't know how these things work but don't wear yourself out, I can handle things on my own now.”
For a moment it sounded like Iceland was trying to select his words for something more to say but in the end all he said was:
“Sleep well.”
Click.
Well, that certainly didn't make things any clearer. Denmark looked at his almanac again as if searching for advice there but none had appeared on it since the last time he had opened it. The wall calendar seemed to be watching him in silence from the chair he had dropped it on and the happy little note he had scribbled on the side of the number 1972 was something about how the year would be the longest year ever, if only by a few seconds. Longest year, indeed. Tonight would give it a run for its money in terms of length, that was for sure!
End notes: 23rd Jan 1973 at 1.00 a.m. a volcano started erupting on Heimaey, Iceland. All the people living on the island had to be evacuated in a hurry and had to leave everything behind, not knowing whether their homes would survive or not. The evacuations were done on whatever ships and boats were available and took a good part of the night to complete.
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no subject
Date: 2012-08-06 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-08 09:29 am (UTC)It's funny but even in reality the countries sometimes seem to have a brotherly attitude towards each other. I know Finland and Sweden have something like that going on, especially around ice hockey. We don't have a similar bond with Russia though, Sweden's... special. "Nothing's better than winning against Sweden, except for Sweden losing against us" as the saying goes. Although to be frank Finns take this a loooooot more seriously than Swedes. :D
Icelanders have a very similar attitude, just change the sport to handball and the opponent to Denmark. :DDD