Author's Notes: Written for hetalia_kink, the prompt: "Norway/Denmark - it's an abusive relationship. Please note the pairing order. Also that abuse =/= consensual BDSM. It's pretty much canon that Norway smacks Denmark around. Anon will have my heart to take it a bit further and explore the dark underbelly of what goes on at home with these two." Trigger warning for domestic abuse. Also, is is the first out of two chapters.


The first rule is: don't tell anyone.

The second rule is: don't tell anyone.

"Like the fight club in that movie America showed us?" Denmark grins. He's too happy to think all this through fully.

Norway rolls his eyes. "If that helps you remember, yes. Just – don't forget the importance of this, alright?"

Denmark nods. "Yeah. I mean, I don't really know why you're doing it, but–"

"Think, Denmark. Would our 'brothers' be happy if they found out we were... I mean, given they're meant to be our brothers and all?"

"Well, given Sweden and Finland I kind of doubt they'd care but–"

"For god's sakes, will you just trust me?"

"...Yeah." There's an awkward pause, before Denmark smiles and grabs Norway again, earning another kiss. He deserves it. "Love you."

"I know," Norway murmurs against his lips until he finishes it, wrapping his arms around Denmark's back. "You're not exactly subtle."

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"Of course."

He wakes up a little sore, grinning like a maniac and stark naked.

He looks to the left and realizes he's missing his axe.

He grins less.

He looks to the right and realizes he's missing his Norway.

He stops grinning entirely.

Denmark throws himself out of bed and pulls as few clothes as he can get away with on as quickly as possible. "Norway?" he calls as he walks down the hallway. "Where'd you go?"

He gets to the kitchen door and finds himself dragged into the kitchen. "Agh!"

Norway's glaring at him (of course) and squeezes his wrist tight. "Will you keep your voice down?"

He finally lets go of Denmark's wrist and Denmark rubs it. "Ow, Nor. What the hell?"

Norway folds his arms over his chest. "Alright, what are you doing calling my name out in the hallways this early in the morning? Do you want everyone else to hear you; they should be up any minute now, you know."

"You disappeared," Denmark lowers his voice to a whisper. "Seriously. And I was just – I don't know, worried about... uh..."

Shit, he can't say this properly, but Norway seems to get it. He rolls his eyes. "Denmark, I heard someone walking about at night and was worried about getting caught. So I left." Pause. "...Sorry."

"...Oh." Okay, awkward. "It's cool, I suppose. Just, you know, I kind of freaked out."

"Uh-huh. Anyway, now put some clothes on, and let me get my coffee."

Denmark is about to nod and do just that (because they're the Nordics; walking around shirtless isn't that great an idea), until he remembers something else. "Hey, where'd my axe go?"

Norway shrugs. "I put it away. Now, coffee."

"It was away. That's where I keep it. Where'd you put it?"

"You keep a deadly weapon in your room at night. Who are you, America?" Denmark winces at that, and Norway sighs. "I put it in the coat closet. Now do you mind?"

"Which one? We have like a bajillion."

"I don't know; they're all somewhat interchangeable."

"Great, now I'm going to spend all day looking for that axe."

Norway rolls his eyes again (he's gonna get them stuck or something). "We have other weapons, Denmark."

"I like that axe."

"Okay, would you just shut up and get some proper clothes on? No-one wants to see you strutting around half-naked. And you look cold."

"Not what you said last night," Denmark says, and Norway gives him a harsh glare. "Just... you know, you lost my favourite axe and you kind of ran off the morning after, least you could – OW!"

Norway's thrown his hot coffee vaguely in Denmark's direction, mainly at his pants. A good deal of it lands on his lower stomach though, and – yeah, ow. "Now you have to go put actual clothes on. Please do so."

Denmark scowls, rubbing the coffee off himself. "Fine then."

He walks back down the hallway, avoiding Finland's confused look as they cross paths.

A few hours later, Norway winds up in front of his door. With his axe.

"...Okay, either you hate me a lot more than I thought or..."

Norway actually smiles before he steps inside and shuts the door. "I wanted to apologise," he says. "I really shouldn't be like that now we're, well... I'm just really bad in the mornings before I get my coffee. It didn't take much effort really, to remember where I put it in the end. You can keep your axe wherever you like."

Denmark smiles back. "Thanks. It's no big deal, really."

"I didn't burn you with the coffee or anything, did I?"

He shakes his head. "Pretty sure it'd cooled down a bit. I'm fine."

Norway nods and starts heading for the door again. Denmark stops him and wraps his arms around. "Hey, Norge..."

"Don't call me that."

Denmark ignores him. "After all this... sure you don't want to make it up to me?"

Norway smiles again, and kisses him on the cheek, but pulls away. "Can't. Sorry, meeting."


"I can't."

As per usual, they all get into a fight.

This time, it's something to do with Norway and his oil. Denmark's not really paying attention, but he thinks he should make the effort to be a good boyfriend and come in on Nor's side, even if the rest of them won't have a clue why.

"Guys, leave Norway alone," he groans, getting odd looks.

"I sort of agree," says Iceland (why? God knows).

"Leave him alone?" asks Finland, incredulous.

"S'is fault," adds Sweden, which doesn't help much.

"Denmark, stay out of this," Norway groans.

"Why? Shouldn't I help out my – I mean, why don't you want me on your side?"

Norway rolls his eyes again (although Denmark sees his fist is clenching in his lap). "Do you even know what's going on? Were you paying any attention?"

"...Well, no, but–"

"That's what I thought."

Norway turns away, but now Denmark's annoyed. "Hey, I was trying to help! You know, I don't really have to make an effort with you like this; if you keep treating me like this – ACK!"

His tie is being pulled, hard, and Denmark chokes for air. Norway's expression is cool, even as Denmark struggles. "Norway–" he says, trying to pull the tie away from his throat.

Finland rolls his eyes. "Stop it, already."

Norway lets go. "...Sorry," he says.

Denmark takes a couple of deep breaths. What just happened...?

"Y' might wanna go 'way."

Denmark looks at Sweden.

"'F ya weren't paying attention."

"...Fine." Denmark swallows, and tries to get his voice back. "I mean, whatever. None of my business really, right?"

"Yes. Go."

Norway still looks cold when he says that, and Denmark's a bit frozen, rubbing his neck.


"Hey! Norway!"

Norway's drinking another cup of coffee (seriously, he drinks too much coffee) when he sees Denmark. "Hello," he says. "What's wrong?"

Denmark sighs. "Look, uh – what happened this morning..."

"What about it?"

Denmark winces. "You strangled me with my own tie," he says. "Did you really have to do that?"

Norway bites his lip. "Well, I wasn't making much of an effort to act not annoyed with you. I was somewhat – although it seemed a little like you were going to reveal things, which would not be why they'd think I'd be angry. Anyway, it's hardly as if I've never done that before. That's why I did it, really. If I was suddenly unwilling to react that way when that's how I've always reacted, it'd be... suspicious."

That... kinda makes sense but sort of doesn't at all. "Um... okay then. Could you, just, avoid it if it's at all possible? Seriously, I'm pretty sure you're not meant to do that."

Norway gives him a look. "So it hurt? Did I leave a bruise or something?"

"I dunno; don't think so. You just... really freaked me out."

"Sorry." Denmark's starting to notice Norway says that a lot. "I'm guessing you want me to make it up to you...?"

Norway smirks, and Denmark feels kind of put on the spot. "Uh... well, I wouldn't complain."

Norway smiles and wraps his arms around Denmark's neck. "I thought so."

And as they kiss, Denmark winces a little at the pressure on his neck.

Well, uh, oops.

And as per some rule of his life, Norway comes home right that second. And Iceland, but Norway matters more.

"...Um." Denmark is left coated in a bizarre mix of vinegar, soda, salt and whatever the hell everything actually wound up being. Iceland seems vaguely amused (if that kid's actually capable of emotion; Denmark's still not sure). Norway narrows his eyes.

"Denmark," he says. "What happened?"

"Hey, this is so not my fault! I blame the puppy!" He points wildly at Finland's dog, who sits there innocently under a pile of vinegary foam.

Norway sighs. "Iceland, could you leave us alone for a moment?"

Oh shit. He's in for it now. Iceland looks a little confused, but walks off without another word.

Norway takes a step closer to him, and Denmark feels some weird phantom blockage in his throat. "I thought you said you could take care of this all? I did help convince Sweden to leave you alone in the house, which understandably, he wasn't that eager to do."

"Hey, I could take care of this all! It was the puppy!"

"It's centuries old, Denmark, it's a dog. And it counts as part of the house; you have to be able to take care of it too."

"...Shit. Well, I don't even see why we all live in the same house! We're all different countries, we're just giant cheapskates so–"


Denmark recoils from it, feeling the sting in his cheek. He cradles it with one hand. "Hey, what was that for?"

"You were babbling. And deflecting. Now can we get back to the topic?"

Denmark doesn't think that the mess he made is that important now. "Uh... you realise you can't just hit me whenever I do anything wrong, right? That's kind of..."

It's not that the slap hurt, so much; not more than Denmark can handle. But still, with Norway just doing that – it was different when they were in public, he guesses, because that's what Norway's always done and not doing it would be out of character, but now... fuck.

"Denmark, you're a big guy; I'm sure you'll survive," Norway says, cool as ever. "Now, fact is, I trusted you to keep things under control and you didn't. What are you going to do about it?"

"Uh..." Shit, what is he going to do about it? "Well, I could clean it all up if it'd make you happy..."

Norway snorts. "That would probably just make things worse, you know." Denmark winces and there's a pause. "Look, nevermind, I'll take care of this. You go take a shower."

"Hey, I'm sorry–"

"Just go," Norway says. "I'll have to clean the dog up too; you know how Finland gets about him."

Denmark just wants to make him happy again. So he goes for the strategy that usually works. "Well, they're not due back for a few more hours – you could do it later. So... if I'm being sent to the shower, care to join me?"

"For god's sakes, why is everything always about sex with you?" Norway snaps. "It's pathetic. And letting the dog get an infection just because your libido is insatiable would probably not please them anymore than all this mess. Also, given there are three people in this house at the moment and two of them are us, it would probably be pretty easy for Iceland to figure out what was going on if he heard anything, and I am never letting that happen."

"...Just a suggestion, jeez," Denmark says. Still, he goes off to the bathroom willingly.

He still kind of blames the dog for all this.

A couple of hours later, he's watching TV in his room when Norway lets himself in.

He leans up and turns it off. "So, you've come to apologise or something?"

"Finland and Sweden are back with their son; they want to show everyone their photos," Norway says coolly. "They were impressed by how clean we'd kept the house."


A pause.

"Do you think I need to apologise?"

Denmark hesitates. Well, he did slap me and insult me a lot for no real reason...

"...Nah. Don't worry about it."

Then he is graced with a smile.

"Good. I'm dreading the boredom of this enough without having to fight with you as well."

"I still don't see why we couldn't just buy him a cake," Denmark grumbles, mixing ingredients together with his bare hands.

"It's better this way. Now hurry up; Sweden and Finland can't keep him occupied forever."

To be honest, Denmark thinks this whole surprise party idea was a dumb idea. "Fine, but you know, Ice's no great sentimentalist. I think he'd be cool if we just bought a damn cake."

Norway stiffens. "You know nothing about him."

Denmark kind of thinks Norway is the one who's always seen Iceland as whatever he wants him to be, but it's not really any of his business. "Whatever," he says. "Least you could do is do some actual work yourself."

Norway rolls his eyes. "I have done all the work except for the cake. I just don't want to appear messy. And you're a better cook than me in any case."

"That's true. Although if we all eat my cooking we might not fit in the house anymore," Denmark says, and Norway smiles. "But wait, I'm meant to be messy?"

"You're always messy."

"Meh." Denmark reaches for the eggs. "Anyway, I was thinking."

"Never a good sign."


"It's a joke. Continue."

"Okay. So, I was thinking... do you think we should like, go away together or something? Just for a bit?"

Norway gives him a look. "We live in the same house. What's the point?"

"We live in the same house with four other people; it's not that convenient. Look, I know you don't want them knowing and I... well, I've accepted it. But, you know, it would be nice to take you somewhere and not constantly have you watching to make sure no-one will ever know, that's all. I wanna be proud of you. Show off to everyone, 'hey, I've got a boyfriend and he's mine not yours!', you know?"

Norway rolls his eyes. "Never thought you'd be the clingy type."

"Hey, Norge–"

"Look, I've got a lot of work in my country right now, I can't really afford to take a holiday. You might just have to put up with it for awhile."

There's a pause. "...I don't believe you."


"Well, I don't. I mean, we all go off wherever we like all the time – it's not like they couldn't contact you; you have a phone. We could actually just be in your country, you know, doesn't matter. It wasn't really about going somewhere else."

"Denmark, just cut it out," Norway says. "We'll be just fine here."

"You'll be just fine," Denmark says. "Actually, why won't you tell everyone about us? And I don't buy that 'brothers' crap; we're not, and it would be kinda hypocritical–"

"It would ruin the dynamics; make things too difficult to deal with. I won't do it."

"...We're countries, dynamics are gonna be fucked no matter what we do. 'Sides, what exactly are you expecting to happen?"

"I don't know. What exactly do you want? To make me depend on you? Like a colony, back in your glory days?"

"No," Denmark says. "I just want you to stop treating me like... I don't know."

"Boo-hoo, poor you," Norway sneers. "Big nasty Norway treats you badly! He won't sacrifice all his independence to make you feel better! Denmark, sometimes, things have to be done. I stayed out of the EU for a reason. I don't need you, or anyone, and I won't be seen that way."

"It's not about needing me, Norge," he says. "Just act like you want me."


"I do want you, Denmark," Norway whispers. Denmark holds his face. That does not go with what you just did. "I'm sorry. Just... can you stop making everything I do a referendum on whether I really love you or not? It's too stressful, and it's more complicated than that."

"...Once you stop hitting me in the face every time we fight."

Norway turns away. "Come on, lets just get the cake made."

"Yeah. Iceland's cake." This is so not finished. "You know, it's funny – you don't want to be dependent, yet you're fucking obsessed with him."


"Iceland," Denmark says. "Seriously. You try and play the big cool mentor, but you would follow you little brother anywhere he fucking chose and don't you pretend otherwise."

"Really? You're so paranoid you think there's something between me and Iceland, and get jealous?" Norway asks. "He's a teenager. You're pathetic."

"So is that why you won't admit to anything?" he asks. "I don't know, maybe you're just waiting. Shaping your perfect little boy into the guy you'd want to – and hey, if you can screw with the guy who's wanted you for centuries at the same time, why not huh?"

Norway rolls his eyes. "If you've wanted me for centuries, all that conquering and commanding was not a great first step," he says. "And don't you dare keep talking about Iceland. Don't you say... You really are the most jealous freak I've ever met."

"What? You don't want Iceland?" Denmark asks. "Fine! No more Iceland! Iceland is out of this room!"

Without really thinking about it, he picks up the cake mix thing and throws it to the floor. The bowl shatters and the batter goes everywhere.

There's a pause. Norway doesn't say anything.

He punches Denmark in the face.

"Ah!" Denmark goes backward, gripping onto the bench for support. Okay, that was stupid (and sort of unfair on Iceland). "Hold on, Norway–"

"What? Did that hurt?"

"Er, I've been through worse, but–"

Norway punches him again. One, two, three, four times, hitting harder each time. Denmark can't help but recoil, until finally Norway stops. Denmark raises a hand to his face, and when he pulls it back he's got a blood nose. "...Shit."

"Does it hurt now?"

Denmark just stares.

Norway turns to the side and closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax. He opens them and looks at the mess on the floor. "Well, congratulations Denmark."

"...Norway what the hell was–"

"Guess we have to go buy a cake now."

He sighs and makes a grab for some paper towel, carefully avoiding the broken crockery and Denmark's staring.


"Go clean yourself up," Norway says, slowly getting down. "I'll deal with this. I'll probably get the batter all over me, but nevermind. Could you go buy the cake?"

At the very least, the cake is good.

Iceland seems to enjoy himself as much as he is physically capable of, and Sealand entertains/embarrasses/annoys everyone in varying amounts. Then the kid gets sent away so alcohol can be brought out. Norway is not happy about that, given this is meant to be Iceland's party and everything, but with enough badgering (mostly from Finn, because that man is a drunk, seriously) and Iceland agreeing to just not drink anything (Denmark's certain he's just waiting for blackmail material) it all works out for the best.

Anyway, everything's going great and Iceland keeps laughing at everyone and Denmark's more or less forgotten the events of this morning, until he gets hungry and goes looking for food.

And finds Sealand in the kitchen cupboard.

It retrospect, he's not that surprised.

"...Kid? What are you doing in here?"

"Hmm?" Sealand asks, moving a packet of instant noodles to the side. "Oh. I make it a habit to spy on all your drunken evenings. Mostly because of that time with the Chicken, because Mama wouldn't speak to any of us for weeks after that, remember?"

"...I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You were a bit too drunk to remember," Sealand says.

"Anyway, do you have to spy on us from the kitchen cupboard? It's kinda weird."

"It's your fault for having cupboards big enough to fit a twelve-year-old boy."

"...Okay then."

"Anyway, what happened to you?"

Denmark blinks. "What?"

"You did notice you have a giant black eye on your face, right?"

"...I..." Denmark struggles, shaking his head. "Shit, kid..."

"I am so telling my parents you swore at me."

"I'll tell Finland you called him Mama again," Denmark automatically responds. "...It's that bad, huh?"

"Pretty much. Did nobody point it out? ...I was gonna, but it would be rude. But now Fin's not here to yell at me, I don't care! So... what did happen?" There's a pause. "Um, Denmark? You okay?"

He really has to start talking again, but now his head hurts. This was just a thing that happened sometimes that he wasn't very happy with, but didn't have major consequences. So this...

"Okay, are you alive? 'Cause this is not the way..."

Denmark walks out.

"Hey," he says once he gets back to the living room, getting everyone's attention (apparently nobody heard him talking to Sealand, which is probably good so the kid doesn't get in trouble). "Was... anyone planning me I have a massive freaking black eye on my face?"

Norway looks away, not that anyone notices. Iceland raises an eyebrow. "I thought you'd noticed that."

"...Well, I didn't," he says. "And no-one wondered where it came from or anything?"

There's pretty much a collective shrug. "J's thought you'd gotten y'self into another fight," Sweden says. "Us'lly what happens."

Denmark cringes a bit while Finland glares at his husband. "Fuck you, Swede," Denmark says, more for the look of it than anything.

"Sorry," says Finland. "I promise he will be accordingly punished–"

"Bit too much information, Finn."

"Anyway," he says while Sweden glares more. "Anyway, if this is a big deal to you... What did happen? Was it just that, a fight, or...?"

There's an uncomfortable silence, and Norway finally meets his eyes. He doesn't say or do anything – make gestures trying to tell Denmark not to talk, shake his head or anything. He just stares.

"...Sure. That."

Sweden snorts and Denmark resists the urge to punch him.

"Great. So, now that's finished, will you sit down like the rest of us?"

Norway sounds just as pissy as he usually does, and that's just not fair, with everything... But Denmark does what he says anyway, sandwiching himself between Norway and Finland.

Finn offers him a vodka bottle. "Drink?"

"Fuck yes."

Shockingly, they actually keep Iceland not-drunk. Well, uh, he's still a little less than sober, but better than Denmark expected.

Anyway, Norway's too fucking smashed to care so it's all okay.

"Goodniiight!" Finland slurs (drunk!) as Sweden drags him off to their room, and Denmark is pretty certain things are gonna happen there that he does not need to know about. Christ, he hopes Sealand is very careful with his habit of hiding in cupboards, not hiding in the wrong ones.

He should probably go check Sealand's not still in the cupboard, actually.

"Denmark," Norway leans into his arms as soon as everyone else's gone, which – Denmark doesn't know how to take that, really. "Missed you."

"...I didn't go anywhere."

Norway snorts. "Idiot."

"Hey," Denmark says. "You gave me a black eye."

"Your fault," Norway tells him. "You tried to ruin everything."

Denmark cringes. "That's not it, Norge, just..."

"You need me," Norway's arms are wrapping around his stomach, almost suffocating him. "And you – you wish I'd need you."

"No, that's not–"

"It's okay." Norway leans up and gives him a peck on the lips. "I – I understand you. You want to be everything to me."

Denmark doesn't know what to say. "Uh – I wouldn't really mind, but–"

"I have so much, Denmark. I don't wanna... Can't I have everything and you too?"

Denmark takes a deep breath. "But, er – what about me? Do I have you too? 'Cause – I don't feel like I do, you know."

Norway smiles sadly at him. "Of course not," he says. He raises a hand and covers Denmark's eye. "Why else would that have happened to you?"

Denmark swallows hard. "Because you completely fucking overreacted to me being stupid and ruining a cake."

Norway laughs.

"Denmark." He leans his head against Denmark's chest. "I thought you were a storyteller."

His hands are starting to travel, finding their way under Denmark's shirt. He winces when Norway prods small bruises that came from his body colliding with the bench – he didn't even realise he got those.

"Come to bed with me. I promise it'll be okay."

"Why are you in my bed?"

"Mhh?" Denmark wakes up to a pissed-looking Norway. "You... kinda invited me..."

"I thought we agreed we'd do this only in your bed?" To be honest, Denmark can't remember if that's true or not. "Also, fuck, my head hurts. And I cannot remember a thing. Exactly how drunk did you let me get last night?"

"Wha, that's my fault...?" Wait, that's not the best way to talk about this. "I dunno, you were pretty... uh..."

"So, did you take advantage of my state, or...?"

"Wha? No. I think you told me to, but then you kinda passed out so y'know, probably wasn't a reliable instruction."

Norway snorts. "Are you disappointed?"

"...I don't mind, really..."

Norway groans and pushes himself up, rubbing his temples. "I need coffee."

"You always need coffee."

"Ha ha." Norway pulls the covers off, making Denmark cringe at the cold. "You should get out of my room."

Norway's starting to stand up, and before thinking Denmark pulls him back down. "Norway."

"What is it now?"

Denmark hesitates. "...Do I still have a black eye?"

"They don't fade that fast; of course you do."

"...Huh," Denmark says. "Look, Norge, you said a lotta stuff last night–"

"I was drunk out of my mind last night; I can't remember a word of what I said. It probably wouldn't be very reliable testimony anyway."

Denmark groans. "Norway... why do you think I have a black eye?"



"Because I punched you, you idiot."

"Why'd ya do that?"

Norway shrugs. "You were being immature and sabotaging things. I may have overreacted," he says. "Is there a point to this?"

"...Do I have you?"


"I mean," Denmark pushes himself up, "You and me – what are we? You said – you wanted to have everything and me too. You have me, Norge – you always fucking have. I am not getting out of this any time soon, even..." even if it'd do me a lot of good in the end. "So – do I have you?"

Norway raises an eyebrow. "That's a very unhealthy way to perceive relationships, in terms of possession," he says. "No, you don't 'have' me. I don't 'have' you. We don't own one another; that wouldn't end well."

He pushes himself up out of bed again, and this time Denmark doesn't stop him. "Get out of here before someone finds you. I'm going for aspirin."

And as always, they're all fighting again.

"Norway, if you'd just shut up and sit down–"

"Don't you say that; you started this!" Norway shouts at him. "You're pathetic. You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

"Clearly not! Jesus, Norge, it's not meant to be a big deal. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You tell me; you always seem to have a long list of things that must change."

Denmark hesitates. Can he even say...? "Norway, all I wanted–"

"Oh yes, let's go on about what you want again," Norway says. "That's what you do, isn't it? 'Oh no, they're all going to leave me and I'll be abandoned and I don't deserve that so I'll cling like a leech' and all that shit. Well no-one cares!"

Denmark recoils. "Norway, what the hell?" he asks. "Jesus christ, I was just trying to do something – you're not meant to act this way; don't you see that it's actually meant to mean–"

Norway punches him, hard, with enough force to said him spiraling back. back. Norway looks at him blankly while Denmark raises a to his face, and when he pulls it back down Norway prepares to strike again.

Denmark catches his wrist. "Norge, please don't," he says, voice entirely more scratchy and pathetic than he'd like. "Not when I've already got a black eye and everything."

Norway barely hesitates. "It's not my problem that your such an idiot to go out getting yourself brutalised every night."

Denmark cringes – how can he say–? But before they get the chance to argue further Finland leaps up. "Okay, uh, why don't we all just calm down – Norway, no more hitting him."

Denmark rubs at his eye again, and for once Norway does actually look a little ashamed. It's not as satisfying as it should be. "I'm sorry," he says. "Denmark, would you mind stepping outside with me for a moment?"


It's fucking cold out here, actually. Maybe that's part of the plan, actually; it's so fucking cold he'll accept whatever bullshit Norge tells him just so they can go back inside.

He decides not to let it work. Hopefully.

Norway looks around, avoiding his eyes. Denmark's not really sure what to say.

"...It's just a damn bridge, Norway. I mean, fine if you don't want it, but–"

"I'm sorry," Norway says again. "It's complicated."

"Yeah yeah, I know, you don't wanna be dependent or whatever," he says. "But Norway, this shit is way bigger than that and you know it."

"I thought it was 'just a–'"

"I'm not talking about the fucking bridge!"

There's a pause, and Norway breathes deeply. "I know."

"...Then, what? Fuck, I love ya Norway, but the way you act–"

"Look," Norway says. "I took... a certain attitude to you. Since forever, you annoyed me. Quite a lot. And – well, it was fairly easy to express all that, given everyone's usual attitudes to... and then we were all together. So I had to deal with you more, so the expressions of annoyance got more intense. And then we were alone, and... suddenly I was in love with you. But that could never last; we weren't – the whole world wasn't stable enough for that to last. So it was easier to ward you off; make it worse. And now... guess I got too involved. It's too natural now. And I'm trying to stop, but... I just have to remember that."

"...I see." Denmark doesn't really, but he thinks he gets enough. "But – Jesus Norway, I always thought – I loved you and you loved me, and I knew it, and I always thought if we were ever together you'd 'fess up to it and things'd be okay. This... not my definition of okay."

"It's not really anyone's," Norway says.

"So now what do we do?"

Norway sighs. "I suppose that's up to you," he says. "I can't promise things will change quickly, and there's no way in hell I could stand everyone knowing anytime soon – I understand if you won't put up with me any longer."


"...You might just have to keep giving me more chances."

Denmark things. Shit, he can't just let all this happen, but–



"Well, uh, I do love you... I'm a romantic. I don't think I can let go."

And Norway, as always, smiles.

Author's Notes: Written for hetalia_kink, the prompt: "Norway/Denmark - it's an abusive relationship. Please note the pairing order. Also that abuse =/= consensual BDSM. It's pretty much canon that Norway smacks Denmark around. Anon will have my heart to take it a bit further and explore the dark underbelly of what goes on at home with these two."