Røsslyng

Title: Untitled
Characters/Pairing: France->Norway, Netherlands
Rating: E for Everyone
Length:~570 words
Summary: France shows up unexpectedly on Norway's doorstep; Norway has his troll friend show him out.
Other: Written for Nate. Originally posted on the APH anon meme (Original post). Unpolished.



Untitled

"No. Get yourself gone."

"But really, I only just got here, I-"

"I already have a guest," Norway said slowly. "And I can't be havin' with you taking up my time."

The nerve of him. The absolute nerve of him. To think that country bumpkin could just turn him down so easily, standing there in his fisherman's sweater and slippers - how quaint - with one hand on the door and the other on the jamb, as if to bar him from entering. Never mind that France was on his soil and technically - one could suppose - trespassing on his property. That wasn't the point.

France huffed, drew himself up as tall as he could, and raised an eyebrow at Norway. He couldn't look down his nose at him, but he certainly could give the impression of it. "Now, just who is so important that you can't put it aside for me, hmm?"

"You ain't met him. Now, I'm tellin' you again. I'd like you to get yourself goin'."

Norway wasn't even looking at him; he was looking past him to the trees behind him. Had he even listened to him? He seemed to be paying more attention to the sound of branches bending and rustling in the breeze - though strange, it didn't stir his hair at all, but that was irrelevant - how dare he, the nerve of him, to say that, why-

"I won't until you tell me about your dear visitor," France said, flashing him a broad smile, more predatory than charming.

At that, Norway didn't give him anything more than a blink, that dull, fish-eyed look he often had. Perhaps he needed to think on it. So slow, those northern nations, France thought in exasperation. Not a handful of wits about them. So pleasant to look at, but unfortunately -

What followed next was a string of lightly-spoken syllables in Norwegian, and of course France didn't catch a word of it - not that he was in a position to do so, as he suddenly felt himself hauled up bodily by the back of his shirt. As he struggled, he became aware that Norway was speaking to him again.

"Already told ya'. Can't make the time for this, thanks. Håvard'll show you out."

"Honestly, Norway, can't we talk about this, I-"

"No." Norway looked up at him, his face blank as ever - though his eyes seemed to be laughing. "Would be quiet if I were you. Might take it into his head to eat you. Wouldn't put it past 'im." Then his eyes drifted up - way up - and he said something again, something that sounded like an expression of thanks, though France couldn't be sure.

Then he stepped back into the house and closed the door.



He locked the door and looked toward the living room, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Sorry about that," he said quietly. "Can't be havin' with them what come by uninvited."

Netherlands stared at him from where he was, draped over the couch with a view to the door. He'd seen - and heard - the whole thing. "Uh."

While Netherlands groped for an appropriate response, France's screams rang though the air, quite audible through the door, and if he could be heard from several kilometres away in all directions, Norway wouldn't have been remotely surprised.

"... I'll remember that."

"Good."

End.