Noxious [DenNor]

5.

Not long after Iceland left the kitchen, Denmark was sitting at the kitchen table, typing away in his chat with America and Prussia.

chickmagnet1525: no, but i really am better than u just saying.

REDWHITEANDBLUE5EVER: dude we've established this. your not even a real country anymore

chickmagnet1525: *you're. learn your own language, you fettes, amerikanisches schwein

legolover: Has anyone talked with England lately? Ice thinks Nor and that British prick are talking about me?

chickmagnet1525: why the hell would we talk to that tea bag

REDWHITEANDBLUE5EVER: lol bro i see what u did there

legolover: I mean Lukas has been acting weird lately and I just

legolover: Jeg ved ikke engang

It was then that Denmark was distracted by the roaring of the garage as it opened, and the buzzing sound of a car engine as it advanced inside, then came to a stop. As far as he knew, nobody had left the house that morning. Ice was in the living room, Norway was still sleeping, and Finland was in the backyard with Peter, walking Hanatamago.

That could only have meant one thing: Sweden had returned from his business trip.

Mathias pushed the chair back and jutted to his feet, eager to get out of the room. Business trips always left Sweden grumpy for two or three days after returning home, and there was no way in Hell he was about to stick around and deal with it.

At the same time, the soft sound of footsteps and silken pajama bottoms as they swept across the tile floor made him look towards the living room.

Standing in the doorway, wispy blonde hair sticking out in every direction and the last traces of dreaminess still lingering in his pale blue eyes, was Norway. He scratched the top of his head as he crossed the floor, staring up at Denmark with an unreadable expression etched into his features.

Den was startled. It was rare, if not miraculous, to see Norway like this nowadays. In fact, it must have been a hundred or so years since he had last seen him in this stage of awakening. He was the kind of person to compose himself before daring to show his face, even around Iceland.

"I- I- Norge? Haha, are you alright there?" he uttered, stunned and a bit uneasy with the close distance he had put between them.

Norway's impassive expression hardened into a glare, and Mathias took an immediate step back. That slight movement was all it took to trigger something off inside of Norway's leggiadrous body. Once more, he closed the space between them and jabbed a finger into Denmark's chest.

"I know what you've been hiding, you dumb Dane. How long did you think you could keep it from me? Do you really think I wouldn't start suspecting-"

The wooden kitchen door creaked open to Mathias's left, and the Dane took Lukas's brief moment of distraction to scramble away, wide-eyed and shocked by the impavid outburst.

Standing in the doorway in a button-up white shirt and a loose, yellow tie was Berwald. He dropped a black suitcase by the door just as Mathias came barreling over, uneasy peals of laughter ringing from his lips.

"Ha. Ha. Hej, Sve! You're home early?"

Berwald grunted, eyeballing him with an unconcealed glaze of annoyance veiling his blue eyes.

"Where's Fin?"

Mathias opened his mouth to answer, but was beat to it by a cool, composed voice. Standing a few inches to his right, arms crossed over his chest, was Lukas. He didn't so much as glance at Mathias who, at this point, was standing a few inches away from Berwald, his back turned to the Swede.

It was as if the outburst hadn't even happened! What the hell was going on with him? Better yet, what the hell had he been talking about when he said he knew what Denmark was hiding?

"Hello, Berwald. Tino and Peter are in the backyard,"

Sweden swerved around Mathias, then lumbered across the room, towards the door opposite the garage.

Mathias stood, stiff and round-eyed, until the backdoor closed, leaving him alone with Norway once more.

He expected to be jumped on again, but Norway didn't so much as glare at him. Instead, with a crooked smile that gave Denmark the creeps, he shook his head.

"I wish you had told me sooner, Den. I really do."

Baffled, Mathias swallowed hard and pressed his back against the garage door. In a whiny voice, he replied. "Norge, I really... I really don't know what you're talking about." And he didn't, but there was a little spark in the back of his head, a candle held to the darkness. Some old memory was arising within him, and, to the best of his mental capabilities, he tried to grasp at whatever it was that had been aroused by Norway's fury.

Before he could so much as graze the surface of this memory, however, the space between he and Norway really did close. Not by a few inches; Not even by a few centimeters.

Lukas slipped forward, as silent and graceful as a ghost, and pressed his chest against Mathias's.

Slack-jawed, with his eyes practically bulging from his head, Denmark could only stare in helpless confusion as Norway stood on the tips of his toes, snaked an arm over his shoulder,

and then pressed his soft, warm lips against his.

Mathias didn't know what to do, how to react. He could feel Lukas's small hand pressing into his chest, while the other clutched on to the back of his shirt.

Was it his own heart that was pounding so hard, or Lukas's?

"Mmph. L-Lukas?" He muffled into the smaller Norwegian's mouth. Lukas's eyes, previously closed, shot open. He shoved himself away from Denmark and stood about a foot away. Something like bitterness flashed across his eyes for a moment, and then he turned away, shaking his head.

"I guess that's all I'll ever get from you, then."

Then, before Mathias could gather up his wits, Lukas slipped from the room like he had slipped against his chest: Like a noiseless ghost.