That's Not How You Do It-

Heresy

Eight in the morning, Iceland's alarm went off, screaming it's horrible beeping in his ears. He groaned and opened his eyes, then rolled over to smack the alarm off. Honestly, waking up was the worst part of the day. He would sleep later, but the last time he ignored his alarm, he was thrown into the lake by Finland. Never again. Now he always got up at eight and suffered through existence until he could go back to bed at around four in the morning. 

He is at the pinnacle of health.

But anyway. He sat up in bed, yawning and stretching, steeling himself for another day of being annoyed and pitying Sweden's meager attempts to ask Finland out. If Iceland was lucky, he might be able to escape to the park and get some work done later. That would have to wait until after breakfast though, as his stomach rumbled, demanding nutrients. 

He dragged himself out of bed and left his cave of a room, then heading down the creaking stairs for the kitchen. On arrival in the doorway, he saw his brother inside, pulling a box of cornflakes out of the cupboard.

"Morning," Iceland greeted tiredly. He walked over to the refrigerator to get some eggs for his breakfast.

"Good morning, little brother," Norway replied. The older nation set the cereal box down on the kitchen table next to a bowl and mug (which was probably filled with coffee). "Pass me the milk while you're in the fridge."

Iceland grabbed the nearly empty jug of milk and a carton of eggs from the depths of the appliance, then closed the door. He put the eggs down on the stove and slid the milk across the table to Norway.

"Takk," Norway said, and Iceland was about to turn away and make himself scrambled eggs when he saw what egregious mistake of nature his brother was committing.

He was pouring the milk in the bowl before he added the cereal.

"What are you doing?" Iceland asked with a slightly accusatory tone. Norway looked at him.

"Making cereal," he replied.

Iceland pointed at the bowl. "But you did it wrong."

"Is there a wrong way to make cereal?"

"Yeah. And you just made it the wrong way."

"This is how I always do it."

"What circle of Hell spit you out onto this planet??" Iceland slapped his hand down on the table and Norway flinched just slightly. "You can't put the milk in first! It's just... wrong!"

Norway said nothing for a moment, and then he smirked and folded his arms over his chest. "And why is it wrong, dear brother? Please, inform me. I'm sure you have expert reasoning as to why pouring the milk before putting the cereal in is wrong."

"Well- Because- It-..." Iceland faltered, trying to come up with a solid argument. This made Norway smirk wider, which only made Iceland all the more flustered. "Because that's just how it's done!!"

"Well, I prefer my way of doing things. If I add the milk first, I can regulate it easier so that I don't waste any of it."

"Why don't you just drink the leftover milk??"

"Why would I?"

"YOU DON'T!?"

"Please stop yelling at me for the way I eat cereal."

"PLEASE STOP EATING CEREAL LIKE A BRAINDEAD MONGOOSE!"

"....I'm sorry, a what?"

Iceland sighed huffily in immense frustration. It was too early to be dealing with this utter blasphemy. Now he didn't even want to make food, he just wanted to go back to bed. Why is the world so cruel?

"OK," he said, "You're insane, and I'm ashamed to have your genes in my DNA."

Norway chuckled, picking up the cornflake box and pouring the contents into the milk. Some of the udder juice splashed out of the bowl and onto the table, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I think I'm going to have cereal for breakfast every morning," he said with a smile, looking right into Iceland's soul.

"Urgh- You're so annoying..." 

"Love you too, lillebror."

A/N: Yeah so this happened. Wrote it specifically for my friend because of the great headcanon for Norway they caused to come into existence. This headcanon. That he does cereal wrong.

I apologize to anyone who eats their cereal like a braindead mongoose, this is not intended to be a personal attack. It's only meant to be a personal attack on Lukas Bondevik, hah.

Anyway, I'm working on writing other things. This just happened to be finished first. 

Toodles~