Cliche Love Song {Denmark}

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Cliche Love Song {Denmark x Reader}

"I know, it's hard to get her—she's a special girl."

Note: Okay, sorry this chapter popped up without the prior 'next time' deal, but I'm taking another short break from requests, heh.

This was written as a commission on deviantART, for my friend AshesOfTheWarFlags. ^_^ ('Prominessence' on dA) I accepted 2 other commissions, and I'm planning another holiday special, and then I'll get back on track with requests, alrighty~?

Btw, Xyna asked for this to be a songfic to the Danish song, 'Cliche Love Song' by Basim, so check it out too. :)

 I met this lady - Lady

She was looking so damn fine

But she was crazy - Crazy

It was all about party time

"Do you think she'll be there?"

    "No."

    "Do you think she'll remember me?"

    "No."

    "Do you think she'll let me dance with her? Oh, that would be the greatest! I just know she's a good dancer—have you seen her?!"

    Norway slammed his book shut. "No, but you've gone on and on about her enough for me to 'know' her."

    Denmark rolled around on his bed, lovingly clutching a Danish flag-themed pillow to his chest. "She's so cute! I can't wait to see her again! How long has it been—a whole year already?" He laughed giddily, and shoved the pillow over his face. He exhaled with a grin and pounding heart as he asked his best friend, "...Do you think she missed me?"

    Norway didn't immediately answer. He stared at his childhood friend, a look of Is-He-Really-This-Stupid? hidden in his blank navy eyes. "...Denmark, you have a problem."

    The Dane momentarily stopped daydreaming of you to glance back at him, "Huh? What is it?"

    He glared at him from his seat across the room. "You first saw her a whole year ago at America's annual New Years party. You haven't stopped talking about her ever since. Do you see your problem?"

    Denmark tilted his head slightly and thought for a moment. He eventually settled on, "Yeah! I haven't seen her since that night! Hahaha!"

    Norway couldn't believe what he was hearing. Is he really that dumb? he wondered to himself.

    First off, Denmark had never formally met you. He saw you once from afar and then his whole world was flipped upside down. He hadn't gotten to speak to you that whole night—he was too busy staring and fanboying. To Norway. And to this day, Norway couldn't understand why Denmark simply hadn't stopped talking to him about you and instead talked to you. If he was that in love, why hadn't he gone to speak with you? Instead of admiring you from a distance and annoying his friend with his non-stop talk of a girl he'd never even been introduced to? It didn't make sense.

    "So... do you think she knows my name?" Denmark wondered aloud.

    Norway didn't hesitate, "No. She does not know your name."

    He sat up—pillow now thrown to the side—and scratched his head in confusion. "You're right. She doesn't even know my name. And you know what?"

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