[Pinch-hit fic] Christmas Bloodbath
Title: Christmas Bloodbath
Author: glassamilk
Recipient: sutera
Rating: PG
Warnings: Comical violence, Denmark abuse
Summary: December first is always a bloodbath.
Notes: Pinch-hit! Hope you dig it!
December first is always a bloodbath.
Ever since the first shot was fired over a hundred years ago, they have gathered for the annual slaughter. Sometimes it’s in their backyard. Sometimes in open fields. Sometimes in the middle of town. But mostly, their yard, beyond the porch and into the fray of bare trees and gardens stripped of their color until Spring.
Iceland slams himself behind a tangle of dead shrubs, sliding on the ice, and grips his ammunition tightly, chest heaving as he tries to contain his ragged breaths. He’s been running for at least fifteen minutes now, trying to find Norway. Denmark is after them both because he knows they’ve teamed up, like they always do, and he hasn’t seen his brother since bolting from the driveway. He’s getting nervous. Even in hiding, Norway always tries to at least keep an eye on him, and being out of contact for this long can’t be good. Iceland needs backup. He needs backup bad. He needs Norway because no one can put together their weapons as fast as Iceland can discharge them and if Denmark catches him alone like this, he’s done for. He has three left and the closest secret stash is on the other side of the yard. He won’t be able to get to it without exposing himself.
He gulps down air as quietly as he can-wills himself to think straight. Where does Norway usually hide? The trees. But the branches were trimmed this fall; too risky. Where else? The small trench by the creek. It’s possible, but unlikely given the distance it is from the house. It’s also the first place he knows Denmark will be checking. He whips the back of his glove over his forehead, pushing up his thick, wool hat, trying to clear away the cold sweat that’s broken out there. If not the tree and not the creek, he’s probably under the porch, in the doghouse, or already captured.
No. Don’t think about that.
He swallows nervously and shifts down onto belly, crawling further into the bushes, keeping his last few resources close. If Norway isn’t here to back him up, he needs to get to the safe zone to reload. He knows for a fact that Denmark has been stockpiling his ammo for the last week and hiding packs of twelve around the yard, so his last three are going to be no match; if he’s caught now, it’s going to take a lot more than a wool hat and scarf to stop the sting. He cranes his neck around the branches. The safe zone is directly in front of him on the other side of their battleground and, as far as he can tell, there is no one lying in wait. Still, he doesn’t like the odds.
It’s just too quiet.
Cautiously, he begins to rise. The cold air makes his nose run, but he doesn’t dare sniff. Slow as he can, he allows his foot to slide forward, eyes darting to each corner of the yard, heart jittery and face hot as he takes the first step. Nothing happens, but he’s still obscured by the trees. A second step. A third. He bites his lip and prays that Denmark is looking for Norway by the creek.
Crack
Iceland spins and dives to the ground just in time to miss being hit in the shoulder, hitting the slush hard, knocking the wind out of him and crushing what precious ammo he has left. He wheezes, trying to scramble back. Where did that come from? Where is he?
Loud barks of laughter make him spin to face the porch, just as Denmark leaps and lands in the snow a few paces away. The roof! The dirty bastard was hiding on the roof!
“That’s cheating!” Iceland pants, shoving himself backwards with the heel of his boot. “The roof is out of bounds!”
Denmark grins, bearing teeth. “Nothing is outta bounds, Ice. You know that better than anyone.” He draws his hands up above his head, brandishing his weapon. “Yer the one who was in the neighbor’s tree last year, y’remember?”
Iceland swallows, knees trembling. Denmark’s snowball is huge. The size of a beach ball if not bigger. “W-when did you…?”
Denmark laughs again. “Figured I’d have time while you cowered in th’ bushes over there.” He rolls his neck, popping. “Lotsa snow left on the roof.”
Oh. So he knew where Iceland was hiding all along. “Where’s Norway?” He cries. “What did you do with him?”
“You don’t gotta worry about Nor.” Denmark continues to advance on him until he has him cornered by the fence. “S’just you and me now.”
“No, no, nononono…!” Iceland holds his hands up. If Denmark drops that giant snowball on him, he’s going to be spending the rest of the night in the bath. “Stop, stop! I surrender!”
“No surrender,” Denmark grins and lifts the huge snowball. “You know the rules, Ice. Only a coward believes he’ll live forever.”
Iceland screams and braces himself for the rush of wet snow.
It never comes.
He snaps his eyes open when Denmark shrieks and goes flying to the left, toppling to the ground and dropping his snowball all over himself. Iceland throws himself forward before Denmark can get up and dives into the safe zone, snatching up the three snowballs that wait by the flag, and sets to pelting the back of Denmark’s head as he stumbles to his feet, effectively knocking him over again.
“Yes!” He shouts. “Yes! Den, you’re out!” He whirls around to face the house and flashes Norway a thumbs up. “We got ‘im!”
From his position on the windowsill, Norway nods curtly, dropping his extra snowball, and jumps down to join him in the snow. His hat is askew, covered with ice crystals, but he seems relatively unharmed.
“Good shot,” Iceland congratulates him. “I was beginning to worry.”
“Sorry. Got hung up gettin’ around the house.” He motions to Denmark’s prone, quivering form. “Idiot kept fallin’ while he was tryin’ to get on the roof.”
“Figures.” Iceland sighs and dusts off his coat. He turns around and clomps through the snow, crouching down by Denmark, who still has his face squashed into the slush. “In any case, we won. Again.” He pokes his shoulder. “That means you’re our slave for the rest of the day.”
Norway joins him in his prodding. “We want hot chocolate. Get movin’.”
Denmark groans and slowly pushes himself up, a shower of snow and ice dropping from his shoulders. Iceland recoils slightly. There’s red in the snow, dripping out of a gash in Denmark’s forehead.
“Uh… are you okay?”
Denmark moans and flops back into the snow.
Iceland scowls and turns to Norway. “Nor, you didn’t.”
Norway shrugs. “He was gonna drop snow on you. Couldn’t let that happen.”
“But rocks in the snowballs actually are against the rules.” He sighs and pushes his hat back. “That means we forfeit and he wins.”
“Doubt he’ll remember.” He exhales loudly and pats Denmark’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get him inside.” He hooks his hands under Denmark’s armpits while Iceland takes his knees. They haul him up and begin dragging him to the house. “I still want hot chocolate.”
“I can make it.”
Norway frowns. “Victory only tastes good when the loser makes it.”
Iceland rolls his eyes and kicks the door open with his heel. “Except we cheated.”
“S’only cheatin’ if we get caught. We’ll just tell ‘im he hit his head on the ground.”
“Think he’ll buy it?”
“Whenever hasn’t he?”
“Good point.”
They drop him on the couch and toss a blanket over him.
“Still,” Iceland says after a moment wrestling Denmark’s boots off. “That was a brilliant tactic, hiding right under his nose.”
“Got the idea from Sweden last year.”
Iceland pauses. “Didn’t Sweden throw a rockball at him last year too?”
“Yes. And Finland the year before that.”
“Now that I think about it, hasn’t he gotten a rock to the face every year?”
“Yes.”
A pause. They both laugh.
“I’m glad we do this.” Iceland shoves a pillow under Denmark’s neck while Norway goes to stoke the fire. “It’s fun.”
“It is.”
“Ah well.” Iceland sighs. “I’ll get the band-aids.”
As Iceland leaves for the medicine cabinet and Norway steps into the garage for more firewood, Denmark curls his fingers into the blanket, ignoring the pounding in his head, and silently begins planning his revenge for next year.
--
Happy New Year, everyone! I hope everybody had a great holiday season. And thanks for letting me participate so much, mods. This was really fun!
See you next time!
Author: glassamilk
Recipient: sutera
Rating: PG
Warnings: Comical violence, Denmark abuse
Summary: December first is always a bloodbath.
Notes: Pinch-hit! Hope you dig it!
December first is always a bloodbath.
Ever since the first shot was fired over a hundred years ago, they have gathered for the annual slaughter. Sometimes it’s in their backyard. Sometimes in open fields. Sometimes in the middle of town. But mostly, their yard, beyond the porch and into the fray of bare trees and gardens stripped of their color until Spring.
Iceland slams himself behind a tangle of dead shrubs, sliding on the ice, and grips his ammunition tightly, chest heaving as he tries to contain his ragged breaths. He’s been running for at least fifteen minutes now, trying to find Norway. Denmark is after them both because he knows they’ve teamed up, like they always do, and he hasn’t seen his brother since bolting from the driveway. He’s getting nervous. Even in hiding, Norway always tries to at least keep an eye on him, and being out of contact for this long can’t be good. Iceland needs backup. He needs backup bad. He needs Norway because no one can put together their weapons as fast as Iceland can discharge them and if Denmark catches him alone like this, he’s done for. He has three left and the closest secret stash is on the other side of the yard. He won’t be able to get to it without exposing himself.
He gulps down air as quietly as he can-wills himself to think straight. Where does Norway usually hide? The trees. But the branches were trimmed this fall; too risky. Where else? The small trench by the creek. It’s possible, but unlikely given the distance it is from the house. It’s also the first place he knows Denmark will be checking. He whips the back of his glove over his forehead, pushing up his thick, wool hat, trying to clear away the cold sweat that’s broken out there. If not the tree and not the creek, he’s probably under the porch, in the doghouse, or already captured.
No. Don’t think about that.
He swallows nervously and shifts down onto belly, crawling further into the bushes, keeping his last few resources close. If Norway isn’t here to back him up, he needs to get to the safe zone to reload. He knows for a fact that Denmark has been stockpiling his ammo for the last week and hiding packs of twelve around the yard, so his last three are going to be no match; if he’s caught now, it’s going to take a lot more than a wool hat and scarf to stop the sting. He cranes his neck around the branches. The safe zone is directly in front of him on the other side of their battleground and, as far as he can tell, there is no one lying in wait. Still, he doesn’t like the odds.
It’s just too quiet.
Cautiously, he begins to rise. The cold air makes his nose run, but he doesn’t dare sniff. Slow as he can, he allows his foot to slide forward, eyes darting to each corner of the yard, heart jittery and face hot as he takes the first step. Nothing happens, but he’s still obscured by the trees. A second step. A third. He bites his lip and prays that Denmark is looking for Norway by the creek.
Crack
Iceland spins and dives to the ground just in time to miss being hit in the shoulder, hitting the slush hard, knocking the wind out of him and crushing what precious ammo he has left. He wheezes, trying to scramble back. Where did that come from? Where is he?
Loud barks of laughter make him spin to face the porch, just as Denmark leaps and lands in the snow a few paces away. The roof! The dirty bastard was hiding on the roof!
“That’s cheating!” Iceland pants, shoving himself backwards with the heel of his boot. “The roof is out of bounds!”
Denmark grins, bearing teeth. “Nothing is outta bounds, Ice. You know that better than anyone.” He draws his hands up above his head, brandishing his weapon. “Yer the one who was in the neighbor’s tree last year, y’remember?”
Iceland swallows, knees trembling. Denmark’s snowball is huge. The size of a beach ball if not bigger. “W-when did you…?”
Denmark laughs again. “Figured I’d have time while you cowered in th’ bushes over there.” He rolls his neck, popping. “Lotsa snow left on the roof.”
Oh. So he knew where Iceland was hiding all along. “Where’s Norway?” He cries. “What did you do with him?”
“You don’t gotta worry about Nor.” Denmark continues to advance on him until he has him cornered by the fence. “S’just you and me now.”
“No, no, nononono…!” Iceland holds his hands up. If Denmark drops that giant snowball on him, he’s going to be spending the rest of the night in the bath. “Stop, stop! I surrender!”
“No surrender,” Denmark grins and lifts the huge snowball. “You know the rules, Ice. Only a coward believes he’ll live forever.”
Iceland screams and braces himself for the rush of wet snow.
It never comes.
He snaps his eyes open when Denmark shrieks and goes flying to the left, toppling to the ground and dropping his snowball all over himself. Iceland throws himself forward before Denmark can get up and dives into the safe zone, snatching up the three snowballs that wait by the flag, and sets to pelting the back of Denmark’s head as he stumbles to his feet, effectively knocking him over again.
“Yes!” He shouts. “Yes! Den, you’re out!” He whirls around to face the house and flashes Norway a thumbs up. “We got ‘im!”
From his position on the windowsill, Norway nods curtly, dropping his extra snowball, and jumps down to join him in the snow. His hat is askew, covered with ice crystals, but he seems relatively unharmed.
“Good shot,” Iceland congratulates him. “I was beginning to worry.”
“Sorry. Got hung up gettin’ around the house.” He motions to Denmark’s prone, quivering form. “Idiot kept fallin’ while he was tryin’ to get on the roof.”
“Figures.” Iceland sighs and dusts off his coat. He turns around and clomps through the snow, crouching down by Denmark, who still has his face squashed into the slush. “In any case, we won. Again.” He pokes his shoulder. “That means you’re our slave for the rest of the day.”
Norway joins him in his prodding. “We want hot chocolate. Get movin’.”
Denmark groans and slowly pushes himself up, a shower of snow and ice dropping from his shoulders. Iceland recoils slightly. There’s red in the snow, dripping out of a gash in Denmark’s forehead.
“Uh… are you okay?”
Denmark moans and flops back into the snow.
Iceland scowls and turns to Norway. “Nor, you didn’t.”
Norway shrugs. “He was gonna drop snow on you. Couldn’t let that happen.”
“But rocks in the snowballs actually are against the rules.” He sighs and pushes his hat back. “That means we forfeit and he wins.”
“Doubt he’ll remember.” He exhales loudly and pats Denmark’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get him inside.” He hooks his hands under Denmark’s armpits while Iceland takes his knees. They haul him up and begin dragging him to the house. “I still want hot chocolate.”
“I can make it.”
Norway frowns. “Victory only tastes good when the loser makes it.”
Iceland rolls his eyes and kicks the door open with his heel. “Except we cheated.”
“S’only cheatin’ if we get caught. We’ll just tell ‘im he hit his head on the ground.”
“Think he’ll buy it?”
“Whenever hasn’t he?”
“Good point.”
They drop him on the couch and toss a blanket over him.
“Still,” Iceland says after a moment wrestling Denmark’s boots off. “That was a brilliant tactic, hiding right under his nose.”
“Got the idea from Sweden last year.”
Iceland pauses. “Didn’t Sweden throw a rockball at him last year too?”
“Yes. And Finland the year before that.”
“Now that I think about it, hasn’t he gotten a rock to the face every year?”
“Yes.”
A pause. They both laugh.
“I’m glad we do this.” Iceland shoves a pillow under Denmark’s neck while Norway goes to stoke the fire. “It’s fun.”
“It is.”
“Ah well.” Iceland sighs. “I’ll get the band-aids.”
As Iceland leaves for the medicine cabinet and Norway steps into the garage for more firewood, Denmark curls his fingers into the blanket, ignoring the pounding in his head, and silently begins planning his revenge for next year.
--
Happy New Year, everyone! I hope everybody had a great holiday season. And thanks for letting me participate so much, mods. This was really fun!
See you next time!