Seven Minutes in Heaven (Denmark)

You deadpan and look for the Dane. "Den, are you kidding?" If anything, you'd rather have girly Poland or touchy France. Not this arrogant ass-hat. He was rude, full of him self, no good, tall, strong...

You shook your head as Denmark grabbed your shoulders and lead you into the closet, laughing the whole way over and smelling of beer. Rolling your eyes, you shrugged him off and pressed yourself to the other side of the closet. You just wanted to get away from him. Maybe it was because you were this close to hitting him or maybe because you didn't want him to feel the nervous air about you. 

"Hey, (Y/n)," he jabs your ribs and you snarl at him, getting no reaction. "Don't be afraid to swoon, I am pretty great." You can practically feel the testosterone rolling off of him and scoff, turning slightly away from him. Even though he was stupid, you still felt a rosy blush spread over you cheeks. 

You both sit in a tension filled silence until he coughs and you swear he moved closer. 

"(Y-y/n)?" he stutters, touching you carefully on the waist.

"Ya?" you say back, voice hardly more than a breath as you stand on your toes to hear him better. Or steal a kiss. Whatever.

"Jeg elsker dig." he whispers. 

"O-oh..." you gasp. Even though you don't know Danish, you do know what those words mean.

"Ya." he smirks, finally closing the gap between you with a powerful kiss. His limp arms tighten around your waist and your hands fly up to his golden hair. You have no idea what you're doing. Don't you hate this guy? 

Slowly, you feel his hand slither down and snake it's way under your dress, resting lightly on your bare hip. You moan in protest, moving a hand down to try and push the evading hand away when the door creaks open. Frustrated with the fact that you wanted to be caught, you shove him into a wall, taking over the kiss. Hearing a gasp and the door hurry shut, you lean away from Den. Smirking, you chuckle at his flushed face and wait for him to catch his breath before moving to leave the closet. 

"Wait," he murmurs, lowering his head and catching your wrist, "I said that I love you! Don't you love me?"

You kiss his below his ear. "Something like that." you say before turning again and leaving the closet, Denmark following close behind the rest of the night.