He Finally Got It Right

What if I'm Recognized?

UPDATED: 7/12/19

"No! Definitely not! Out of the questions!" Emil shouted.

"What's the matter?" Lukas asked.

"I am not going to be out in public, I cannot be seen like this! What if I'm recognized?!" he gestured to himself, "Also, I'm not wearing that! It's old and musty." In interim, Lukas had found some of his old "baby clothes". Not terribly unfashionable, but it was recognizably colonial. He found it hard to believe that he ever wore such clothes. Not that his fashion sense was any better now, that is.

"I'm not leaving you alone, and I'm not taking you out dressed in just a t-shirt," he reasoned, "you need to at least wear pants." Emil eyed the ratty pants. For being hundreds of years old the pants could've look worse. They were a thick, brown material with fading around the joints. They gently cinched around the waist and tapered down towards the ankles. Aside from the fade, it looked like something that could've been hanging on a clothes rack yesterday. The shirt Nor handed him, on the other hand, was stained antique yellow and was perhaps never in fashion. Lukas waved the pants in front of him,

"Put these pants on." It was more of a plead than a command. Iceland glared at him, hell hath no fury like a child who is dead set against wearing any sort of pants for the day. On the other hand, he had no other options. He knew no amount of arguing would win Norway over. He ripped the pants out of his hands.

"Fine. I'll put them on," he gritted. He turned around and marched to the bathroom.

Lukas began to ask, "Do you need hel—" but Emil slammed the door.

He was in there for a couple minutes, which was baffling because all he had to do was lift up his shirt and pull up his pants. Perhaps he really did need help.

"You've been in there awhile, lille bror, are you alright?"

"Yes! Leave me alone," Emil shouted, his accent seeping through, "I look ridiculous." Iceland swung open the door, murder in his eyes. Adorable. Norway resisted the urge to smile and reassured him he looked fine. He offered his hand, which Emil swatted away as he stomped out of the bathroom. "I can't believe I'm doing this, this is ridiculous. This is happening so fast." He put his hand on the doorknob and tried twisting it. His hands were too small.

"Wait," Lukas moved Emil's hand out of the way and opened the door for him. Emil huffed.

"I was gonna get it," he groaned and stomped his foot again as Lukas walked out the door. The sudden panic of being left behind had him walk out the door after his brother—then he quickly stopped in his tracks.

"Nor?" Norway turned around. "...There's snow," he slowly gestured to his bare feet. A sense of smugness washed over him and he grinned, "Guess I can't leave the house." Norway silently moved towards him and the next thing he saw was a pair of arms coming directly at him. "W-what are you—?" He shrieked as Norway picked him up and balanced him on his hip.

"I'll carry you, don't worry." Emil squirmed, kicked, and punched to be put back down, but Norway put his other arm around Iceland's back and walked to his car.

Lukas wished that he had had a car seat for Emil, he didn't foresee this being a problem. Instead, he had to settle for strapping Iceland into the middle seat in the back seat of his car. It took multiple attempts and Emil did not go quietly. Lukas had to resort to using the child locks on the car doors, but that didn't stop him from unclicking his seatbelt whenever Norway's back was turned. Lukas had to use the threat of getting into a car crash for him to finally settle down and stay seated. Perhaps it was cruel to threaten him with a potentially fatal car accident, preying on his fears like that, but he was beginning to lose patience—not that you'd ever notice. The kid had his arms crossed the entire time and was muttering curses against his brother. It felt like the longest car ride of his life.