I don't own Hetalia! End/AN/

Denmark could have sworn he'd told Iceland to stay out of the kitchen. He could have sworn he specifically sat him down and said, 'Now Ice, Big Bro Denmark is going to be in the kitchen, and you can't come in until he's done, kay?'

And he could have sworn he'd gotten a nod in response, as though the tyke understood.

Well, clearly he didn't, because Denmark found himself nearly tangled in a child as he carried his butter cookies to the oven.

"Ice! What are you doing in here?"

"Dan, I want cookies." He said this like he hadn't been nearly crushed by Denmark, purple eyes looking up with expectancy. And leave it to the little snot to act like he deserved cookies, after ignoring Denmark's explicit instructions.

"Ice, no, you can't have cookies right now." Denmark got the cookies in the oven, and quickly moved to block Iceland from the racks of freshly baked butter cookies sitting on the counter.

"Cookies!" Iceland came up to Denmark and tried to reach around him.

Denmark briefly wondered where Iceland had gotten his bad manners from, but pushed him back as gently as possible. "No, these are for the meeting. You can have some tomorrow, okay?"

"I wannem now," Iceland complained, coming forward once again. His sneaky little hands reached on both sides of Denmark, trying to take the cookies.

"Uh-uh, no," Denmark said, catching his wrists and holding them up. "Geez, Ice, I'm standing right here, you really think I'm going to let you just take them?"

Iceland whined, but then looked shifty-eyed. "There's something for you in the living room."

"Uh huh. What is it?" Denmark didn't release his wrists, staring down at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"It's, um, it's in a package. I dunno what it is," Iceland blatantly lied, not meeting Denmark's eyes. That was his usual tell that he knew he was doing something wrong or lying.

"Okay, why don't you go get it for me?"

"Cause it's too heavy. It's a big box," Iceland said, staring at Denmark's belly with determination. It was as though he truly thought he was fooling Denmark.

"I see. Well, it can wait until I'm done." Denmark let go of Iceland's wrists, and made a shooing motion. "Go on, go play."

"But I want a cookie!" Iceland burst out with this, as if it hadn't been obvious all along.

"I know you want a cookie, but you can't have one. Wait until tomorrow," And Denmark prided himself on being a good big brother, even as Iceland's face crumpled. It made feel sort of bad, but there was no reason Iceland shouldn't wait like everyone else.

Iceland was fast all of a sudden, grabbing a cookie and turning to run.

Denmark caught him, saying, "Oh no you don't, give it here!"

"No, I wanna cookie!" Iceland screeched, thrashing in his grip.

"No, give it!"

"I want it!"

"Ice-"

And then Iceland sneezed, all over his hands.

It was a lost cause, Denmark realized, letting go of Iceland. "Fine," he said, "Eat that cookie. But you're not getting any more!"

Iceland let out a cry of joy, and ran into the living room, where he was likely to bury crumbs in every corner of the couch.

Denmark might have cared had he not smelled the beginnings of burning just then.

/AN/ I hope you liked it! I just felt like writing a little oneshot. And yes, this is from that feeling of fighting with a kid you're babysitting.