This is a short little story, mainly because there is a saddening lack of good NorCan fanfiction around here. Or anywhere. Again, I am back to shipping rare ships.

As always, I hope you enjoy this and please let me know if you would like me to continue.

Norway was in love with Canada.

That thought was swallowing the Nordic whole, eating him from the inside out. He could barely keep his eyes off the young nation today, his thoughts more on the curve of Canada's lips than anything Germany was saying.

"What are you looking at?" Denmark asked curiously, raising an eyebrow at his fellow Nordic. "You're just staring out of the window."

Norway gripped his pen so tightly that it cut into the flesh of his hand. Looking out of the window? Couldn't he see...

Well, he knew the answer to that question. Knowing that any attempt to explain would take far too long and - of course - Germany was already glaring over at their group for talking, Norway left it, his eyes and attention flickering back to Canada.

The North American nation was poring over his notes, bullet-pointing things in the margins. His pale fingers gripped the pencil in his right hand, before pressing the tip of the lead to the paper. A few letters, before a pause. A new sentence.

Then Canada looked up, his violet eyes meeting Norway's own. He offered the Norwegian a small, shy smile, and Norway nodded in return.

Just a small acknowledgement, but if he did what he wanted to do (which was jump over the damn table and kiss the Canadian senseless) then he could probably say goodbye to any chance of getting Canada to say yes to one tiny insignificant date.

So he forced his eyes back down to his notes, glaze flickering to the clocks on the wall to check the time every five seconds. They would break for an hour in fifteen minutes and it would be then that Norway would-

Time must have passed more quickly than he realised, as the next thing he realised was the harmony of scraping chairs, and the sudden volume increase.

Denmark gave Norway another odd look, before clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll wait for ya out on the corridor, okay?" he grinned brightly, ignoring the dark glare he was given.

Norway's stone cold gaze followed Denmark out of the door, before he flexed his tense knuckles and got to his feet.

There was only one other person left in the meeting room. Canada was looking at Norway with a mixture of confusion and wonderment, his polar bear slipping off his lap and scampering off into the corridor.

The door swung closed. Norway swallowed his fear, and gave the younger nation a small but warm smile.

"How are you?" he asked, in English tinged with his clumsy phrasing and long Norwegian vowels.

Thankfully, Canada relaxed quickly, getting to his own feet and tidying up his papers. "I'm very good thank you Norway," he responded, in that damnable quiet cute voice that made Norway want to sweep him off his feet and find a utility closet somewhere-

"Please, call me Lukas," Norway corrected quickly, before the pause became awkward. "And I am glad."

If Canada was surprised, he didn't show it. "I guess you can call me Matthew then, Lukas," Matthew smiled, hands stilling.

Matthew.

Lukas could get used to that.

"I would like that very much Matthew," Lukas let their eyes meet again, having let his more... Carnal urges calm down.

Oh but dammit he was biting his lip now!

"Well, we are friends after all," Matthew gave Lukas a half smile, and the Norwegian tried not to let his disappointment show on his face.

Lukas nodded. "I will see you after the break," he said, painfully formal and bland as always.

For a split second, Lukas thought he saw a small glimmer of sadness in Matthew's beautiful violet eyes. But then it was gone, and Norway passed it off as a hallucination.

The Canadian obviously didn't feel the same way as him. Norway could live with that. He'd have to. Somehow.

He'd made it halfway to the door when he stopped himself. What the hell was he doing? He was Norway, he had been a Viking, and now he was resigning himself to the fact that the nation he'd fallen for might not feel the same way.

Dammit, Lukas wasn't going to let himself leave without at least telling the Canadian how he felt.

So he did what he'd been wanting to do for the last three hours. He turned back around, pressing one palm to the middle of the conference table and propelling himself over it, ignoring Matthew's soft squeak of surprise.

He landed a few metres in front of the Canadian, so Lukas took two large strides before grasping the lapels of Matthew's jacket and smashing their lips together.

Norway pulled away after barely a second, trying to regain both his breath and his senses. His brain seemed to have fogged up in the split second that their lips were connected, and his hands were clutching Matthew's jacket like it was a lifeline.

Then Lukas realised what he'd done, and quickly jumped away. He mumbled an apology, trying to block out that (frankly intoxicating) maple syrup scent that invaded his senses.

He left the room quickly, ignoring Denmark's incessant questions ('Why are you so red?' 'Why did you hit me?' 'Were you jerking off in there?') and trying to put Canada out of his mind.

It was easier said than done, and when they all reconvened Lukas almost tried to call in sick.

Almost.

Because Lukas was above such things, especially for such petty reasons. He would find a way to face the Canadian this time around.

He refused to meet Matthew's gaze when he sat down. He forced himself to not look over to where the Canadian sat - just between France and England - and preoccupied himself with glaring at America.

Norway almost didn't hear the rustle of paper. He raised an eyebrow, moving to sit on the front of his seat so he could look down at the piece of paper.

He unfolded it with two fingers, eyes taking in the neat handwriting sprawled across the slip.

Are you free this weekend?

Mattie

Lukas blinked. Did that mean-? He furrowed his brow and reread the note again, just to make sure.

He looked up, his eyes going straight to Canada. Matthew was already looking over, with a small nervous smile on his lips.

The happy light feeling that Lukas associated with love overtook his heart once again, and his hand was shaking as he wrote his response and slid it over across to Canada.

I'll always be free for you.

Lukas