House of Wolves [Denmark x Reader]

Chapter 3 How To Save A Life

{Your POV}

    You had no idea Denmark knew how to fly a helicopter. Apparently, he had the brains to.
    You sat in the back, Denmark and England in the front. You held a silver box in your hands, waiting for a go-ahead to open it and fasten the earrings in.
    You flew overhead America, and you looked out the window at the rubble of it all. The Europeans must have bombed him, as well. It looked much like your home, vast lands with almost no signs of life. Did he know his land was like this?
    "My god..." England muttered, also looking out the window.
    "Do you think this is why he's been acting weird lately?" You asked, and England shrugged from the front.
    "Seems like almost all of Canada and America is like this." Denmark said.
    All of Canada? Your siblings...were they okay? If Canada had died because of his land ending up as a pile of debris, how were your siblings? You weren't dead, so...
    "My siblings." You said.
"What about them?" England asked.
"Are they okay? Are they..." You trailed off, not wanting to admit that you thought that some may be dead. No, they couldn't. Your siblings were strong; they'd be fine.
Denmark sighed. "I guess we'll have to find out the hard way."
The next few moments of the ride was in silence, aside from the whir of the propellers.
The air was tense. You were mulling over the fact that your siblings, your twin brother could be dead. England hated the fact that this could be why America's been acting weird lately. Denmark was anxious over this whole mission in general. You could die, and he didn't want that. He and his friends could die as well.
And he hadn't heard from Greenland in awhile, he was probably ripping his hair out over that as well.
Eventually, you crossed the border between America and Canada, and flew even more north, Denmark landing the helicopter in the Northwest Territories.
All three of you climbed out, and you stretched, tired of being cramped up in that small air transport.
    "I say we camp out here for the night and let her go in the morning." Denmark said.
"I like that idea." England agreed. "I think there's a tent in there somewhere, and we have enough food to last us for another two centuries."
You laughed. "It's like when we went to China's, you over packer."
"I'm not over packing!" England retaliated. "I'm just making sure I and everyone around me is prepared!"
"For when aliens attack." Denmark said.
"Then everyone is prepared for the apocalypse." You commented.
"If the apocalypse ever happens, I'm going to England's."
"Non, I'm just going to have Iggybrows at my place."
"Don't call me that!"

~Mini time skip brought to you by Iggybrows dressed in drag and doing the hula~

Northwest Territories is known for a lot of his land. It's wide and luscious, full of trees and wildlife.
And because of the bombings, a lot of his trees had fallen. It was sad, not seeing the usual Canadian geese that flew by or the cicadas making that awful sound.
Denmark and England had dragged fallen tree trunks over to form a square, and you had worked to make a small fire, enough to keep you all warm but small enough so no one would notice the smoke.
You had one of Iggy's blankets wrapped around your shoulders, and Denmark sat beside you.
Dadland was fussing around inside the tent Denmark had put up after England rage quitted trying to pitch it.
You hugged your knees to your chest, staring into the flames, thinking. Thinking about what would happen when the sun rose, calling on morning, and what would happen after the war. Thinking about your friends and family, if they were all okay. Thinking about if everyone you cared about would make it out of this alive. Thinking about what the enemies had in store for you. Thinking about what weapons they had and what purpose they served to cause this all.
    Denmark interrupted your thoughts with him stooping over and bringing his lips to yours, kissing you softly.
    You returned the kiss, and it soon got rougher, his hands sliding around your waist.
    He stood up, bringing you with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he opened the door to the backseat of the helicopter, laying you down gently on the seats while he closed the door.
    He smiled down at you, and you put your fingers in his hair.
   "Hey." He said, a nervous look crossing his face.
    "What's wrong?" You asked, and he looked away.
    "Nothing." He said, sitting up. "Um, okay. I know it's not what you wanted, like, the fancy proposal and the big dress and stuff, but it's all I can give you now."
    You sat up while Denmark dug around in his pocket, and he pulled out a small box, roughly the same size as the silver box back in the tent that held the earrings. Except it wasn't silver, it was a dark purple with a gold logo.
    But when Denmark opened the box, it wasn't earrings inside, but instead a ring, and he took it out and held it out for you.
    "I think you've learned by now that I'm not good with words." He said, and you smiled. "So let me save myself the embarrassment of not being able to pronounce simple words and let me just say this: Québec, Océane Joilette Williams-Kirkland, will you marry me?"
    The emotions you felt were too much and too many to register and describe, but you were one hundred and ten percent sure you were completely ecstatic.
    "Yes." You whispered, happy tears welling in your eyes. "Yes."
    Denmark laughed, and laid back down, pushing you down with him, and he fumbled with your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger.
    You cupped his face with your hands and kissed him.