[ ficlet ] Playa [ Denmark/Norway, Axis Powers Hetalia ]
Title: Playa
Author: frostberryjam
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Denmark/Norway.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Norway and Denmark relax at the beach.
Author Notes: ‘Playa’ means beach in Spanish. Said like '-pla-ce' and '-ya-ng'Written for insomniel.
Meme keycode: ICE: Denmark/Norway, going to the beach, jealousy.
That ice cream would be the death of him.
Denmark watched jealously as the other nation’s tongue wrapped around the blue length, pink faintly dyed azure from the treat. Sweat was rolling down Norway’s long neck, along with water, pooling briefly beneath his throat and then continuing the slide down his bare chest.
Lick. Lick.
Suck.
When the hell was that thing going to melt?
“Hey, Norge.” He plastered on a wide smile, stretching his legs out past the towel's edge and digging his toes into the dark brown sand. “Share?”
“No.” The other blond curtly replied, stopping to lick his fingers as blue droplets began hitting his skin, dotting it, mouth unable to beat back the heat of the sun even though he was huddled underneath the umbrella’s shade.
Denmark tore his gaze away and watched as a pair of dark-skinned women in bikinis passed by, smiling with appreciation. Man, Spain had great beaches. And women. He was going to have to thank him for suggesting they come visit.
Now, if only Norway would warm up a little to him, everything would be perfect.
He ran a hand through his hair, watching seagulls prance in the air and squawk loudly, reminding him of Sealand.
“Well.” He said somewhat awkwardly, since they had been sitting on the towel doing nothing for the past ten minutes. “I’m going into the water.”
“Watch out for sharks.” Norway said mildly, disinterested.
“… there are sharks here?”
Norway’s gaze flickered up to meet his. Denmark couldn’t tell if that was Norway’s ‘I’m serious’ or ‘I’m mocking you, fool’ expression. He shrugged. “Well. I’ll just break its back if any shark tries to take a bite out of me.” He said confidently, standing up. Too bad customs hadn’t let him pass through with his trusty axe, he hadn’t had eaten shark in a while.
Norway watched him go, finally biting down on the end of the ice pop, teeth digging into the stained wooden stick. Denmark jogged down to the water, the taut skin over his wide shoulders and back turned a reddish-pink from rejecting the sensible offer of sunblock, meaning that he’d probably be complaining of his burns later when they got back to the hotel and even more later when the peeling began.
Idiot.
Norway exhaled inaudibly and noticed that he wasn’t the only one watching as Denmark dove into the water cleanly, cutting through the waves and then vanishing from sight only for the blond head to burst through the water several meters away.
He almost frowned at the women who were watching with growing interest on their faces. He snorted. Good luck to them. If it meant not having to hear Denmark bitch about how much his back hurt because he was too busy getting laid…
The ice cream continued melting, leaving sticky rivulets across his knuckles and down his wrist. Norway mindlessly stared out at the ocean and the breaking waves with their frothy crowns of white. Occasionally Denmark crossed into his line of vision, moving in the water with exuberance, like a little kid allowed to play to his heart’s content.
Norway sighed again. He missed being cold and everyone being covered up properly, with layers on top of layers instead of skimpy, barely-there swimsuits that left nothing to the imagination. He was glad Iceland hadn’t come. His little brother was too pure to be gawked at and lusted over.
“What the hell happened to your hand?”
Startled out of his reverie, Norway looked up to find a dripping, panting, smiling Denmark.
Who was staring at his hand.
Norway stared in confusion at the single sticky stick he was clutching, and his drenched -- now cerulean -- fingers.
He shrugged deliberately. “I didn’t care for it any longer.”
Denmark’s quizzical smile grew. “So you kept holding onto it until it made a mess.”
Norway didn’t deign that statement worthy of a reply. He dropped the stick and reached to wipe his hand on a corner of the towel, keeping a straight face in the meanwhile.
The larger nation flopped down on the towel beside him, smelling of salt from the ocean. “Oh, come on. You won’t share with me even now?”
Norway rolled his eyes. “It’s gone. Buy your own.”
“Stingy.” Denmark cheerfully accused him before gripping his wrist with a wet hand.
Lick. Lick.
Suck.
Norway’s face suddenly flamed as Denmark sucked on his fingers, sweeping his tongue between the digits and then rasping his teeth against his fingertips as Norway yanked his hand back.
“I’m going back to the hotel.” He said tersely, outwardly composed if one hadn’t known him for centuries.
Denmark stood up. “Great! I’ll go with you. We can take a shower together.”
Norway examined him for a long moment.
“Maybe.” Then he walked away, leaving Denmark to pick up the towel and scramble after him.
Author: frostberryjam
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Denmark/Norway.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Norway and Denmark relax at the beach.
Author Notes: ‘Playa’ means beach in Spanish. Said like '-pla-ce' and '-ya-ng'Written for insomniel.
Meme keycode: ICE: Denmark/Norway, going to the beach, jealousy.
That ice cream would be the death of him.
Denmark watched jealously as the other nation’s tongue wrapped around the blue length, pink faintly dyed azure from the treat. Sweat was rolling down Norway’s long neck, along with water, pooling briefly beneath his throat and then continuing the slide down his bare chest.
Lick. Lick.
Suck.
When the hell was that thing going to melt?
“Hey, Norge.” He plastered on a wide smile, stretching his legs out past the towel's edge and digging his toes into the dark brown sand. “Share?”
“No.” The other blond curtly replied, stopping to lick his fingers as blue droplets began hitting his skin, dotting it, mouth unable to beat back the heat of the sun even though he was huddled underneath the umbrella’s shade.
Denmark tore his gaze away and watched as a pair of dark-skinned women in bikinis passed by, smiling with appreciation. Man, Spain had great beaches. And women. He was going to have to thank him for suggesting they come visit.
Now, if only Norway would warm up a little to him, everything would be perfect.
He ran a hand through his hair, watching seagulls prance in the air and squawk loudly, reminding him of Sealand.
“Well.” He said somewhat awkwardly, since they had been sitting on the towel doing nothing for the past ten minutes. “I’m going into the water.”
“Watch out for sharks.” Norway said mildly, disinterested.
“… there are sharks here?”
Norway’s gaze flickered up to meet his. Denmark couldn’t tell if that was Norway’s ‘I’m serious’ or ‘I’m mocking you, fool’ expression. He shrugged. “Well. I’ll just break its back if any shark tries to take a bite out of me.” He said confidently, standing up. Too bad customs hadn’t let him pass through with his trusty axe, he hadn’t had eaten shark in a while.
Norway watched him go, finally biting down on the end of the ice pop, teeth digging into the stained wooden stick. Denmark jogged down to the water, the taut skin over his wide shoulders and back turned a reddish-pink from rejecting the sensible offer of sunblock, meaning that he’d probably be complaining of his burns later when they got back to the hotel and even more later when the peeling began.
Idiot.
Norway exhaled inaudibly and noticed that he wasn’t the only one watching as Denmark dove into the water cleanly, cutting through the waves and then vanishing from sight only for the blond head to burst through the water several meters away.
He almost frowned at the women who were watching with growing interest on their faces. He snorted. Good luck to them. If it meant not having to hear Denmark bitch about how much his back hurt because he was too busy getting laid…
The ice cream continued melting, leaving sticky rivulets across his knuckles and down his wrist. Norway mindlessly stared out at the ocean and the breaking waves with their frothy crowns of white. Occasionally Denmark crossed into his line of vision, moving in the water with exuberance, like a little kid allowed to play to his heart’s content.
Norway sighed again. He missed being cold and everyone being covered up properly, with layers on top of layers instead of skimpy, barely-there swimsuits that left nothing to the imagination. He was glad Iceland hadn’t come. His little brother was too pure to be gawked at and lusted over.
“What the hell happened to your hand?”
Startled out of his reverie, Norway looked up to find a dripping, panting, smiling Denmark.
Who was staring at his hand.
Norway stared in confusion at the single sticky stick he was clutching, and his drenched -- now cerulean -- fingers.
He shrugged deliberately. “I didn’t care for it any longer.”
Denmark’s quizzical smile grew. “So you kept holding onto it until it made a mess.”
Norway didn’t deign that statement worthy of a reply. He dropped the stick and reached to wipe his hand on a corner of the towel, keeping a straight face in the meanwhile.
The larger nation flopped down on the towel beside him, smelling of salt from the ocean. “Oh, come on. You won’t share with me even now?”
Norway rolled his eyes. “It’s gone. Buy your own.”
“Stingy.” Denmark cheerfully accused him before gripping his wrist with a wet hand.
Lick. Lick.
Suck.
Norway’s face suddenly flamed as Denmark sucked on his fingers, sweeping his tongue between the digits and then rasping his teeth against his fingertips as Norway yanked his hand back.
“I’m going back to the hotel.” He said tersely, outwardly composed if one hadn’t known him for centuries.
Denmark stood up. “Great! I’ll go with you. We can take a shower together.”
Norway examined him for a long moment.
“Maybe.” Then he walked away, leaving Denmark to pick up the towel and scramble after him.