(Hello Fish, I know this is you hehehe norwegianpancake)
Romano knew it was ridiculous to be so drawn to a person who had a demeanor icier than his own.
He couldn’t help it though. He admired Norway’s calculated and cool composure in all situations and his voice of velvet that was never raised, or even used, beyond absolute necessity. The slope of Norway’s throat was too delicious to resist staring at, especially when slender fingers curled loose hair around his ear then trailed down his neck before his hand once again fell out of sight, disappearing somewhere behind them. His eyes were framed by pale lashes that fanned across the expanse of his cheekbones as he leaned over Romano’s shoulder, pointing to something he deemed important in the book on his lap. Romano frowned deeply at how his heart seemed to race off without his permission when Norway’s shoulder brushed into his. He smelled nice, Romano thought, and sniffed in disdain. Like coffee and pine and sea spray, like something he wanted to put his mouth to and savor.
“Don’t get haughty with me, South Italy,” Norway scoffed, “you’re the one who asked me to-”
“Yeah, yeah, you bastard,” he spat, cleverly covering up the nervous lilt in his voice that was threatening to crawl up his throat. He felt Norway’s steely gaze lingering on his face longer than was necessary and he hoped the heat of the blush he felt creeping up his neck wasn’t painfully obvious.
“You know,” Norway drawled, leaning close again and trailing the pad of his finger down the page, not pointing to anything in particular. Romano glanced at him out of the corner of his eye in time to catch the faint upward tilt to Norway’s lips, “…if you’re not even interested in Scandinavian mythology, you could have just asked me to coffee.”