This is the first story I've actually written on this site for years . . . well, it's good to start over, amirite? Anyway, hello! I'm Ayah. Let's get straight to the point. Hong Kong and Iceland are one of my fave ships, but I also wanted to write a fanfic about my fave character - China - and BAM, this story was born! The title of the story was inspired (read: ripped off) by the anime Oreimo; I figured it fit it pretty well, considering what this story's about. That's the only thing "borrowed", though - so there will not be any elements of Oreimo present :P

The main ship in this story is HongIce. Poor China is probably going to be my shipping whore in this story and for many stories to come! Minor characters include the Asian Family, the Nordic Five, and some of the other countries.

For future reference: italicized words indicate thoughts and use of non-English words.

Summary: Hong Kong secretly runs extremely popular accounts on multiple social media websites under the human name of Leon Wang. As it turns out, he finds that many of his most popular skits, vlogs, and photos all contain one particular person in them - his older brother, China. Deciding to cater to his followers' requests, Hong Kong enlists the help of Iceland; together, they try to fulfill the fans' fantasies while making sure China never catches on.

"So - get this - the douche that thought I took the last steamed bun got his ass kicked. I mean, I wasn't gonna just stand there, you know? We brawled a little; it was like those old kung fu films! And eventually I kind of felt bad for the guy, 'cause he was my age and he looked pretty hungry, so I was like: 'Look, I'm tired. Just take it.' And the guy was like: 'No, screw you, I'm done with this bullshit.' He just left. Like, what the hell? Anyway, looks like that's all the time I have for today, guys. I'll see you in the next video. Zàijiàn!"

With that, Hong Kong shut off the camera and breathed a heavy sigh. He had just finished recording a 15-minute vlog of what had happened that week; mostly trivial things that could happen to anybody, but ranting about his dreary work days was his forte. Lounging on his bed, he fumbled for his smartphone on his nightstand.

About five thousand new subscribers-slash-followers on all his social media accounts in a twenty-four hour period.

Not bad.

There were other social media accounts who boasted higher rates, but Hong Kong was content. He shifted into a more comfortable position and unlocked his phone, almost mechanically tapping the Twitter app.

What to tweet, what to tweet.

Ah. Perfect.

With the thought captured in his mind's eye, Hong Kong effortlessly weaved a silken tapestry of words: "ur all gaylords".

Straightforward and brutally honest. He could already imagine the amount of favorites and retweets.

"Jia Long! Come and eat!" a high-pitched voice called. He elected to ignore it.

Hong Kong held his phone well above his head, sticking out his tongue and attempting at what Yong-soo would call a "smolder"; with his dark amber eyes, it was simple to pull off and was very popular among his (mostly female) fanbase.

"Jia Loooooooooooong! What are you doing?" the voice shouted again, now clearly annoyed. "I know you can hear me!"

Moving on to Instagram, Hong Kong posted his selfie with the caption "eyebrow game strong".

Proud of his creative work, he lazily scrolled through his Instagram feed, barely acknowledging his elder brother as the self-proclaimed patriarch of the household barged into his room. The shorter man grabbed his wrist and tugged, scolding him in rapid-fire Cantonese.

"Put the phone down and come eat with me and Wen Cheng! Don't just sit here and do nothing."

Ripping away his arm, Hong Kong rolled his eyes and continued to disregard his brother. "I'd rather sit here than have you nag me about proper table manners."

China didn't seem to take kindly to that.

"You can't just do whatever you want, Jia Long!"

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leon?" Hong Kong snapped. He felt a smug satisfaction when he realized China was struggling to control his temper; he met China's gaze evenly, preparing for the verbal smackdown of a lifetime.

"Didn't I also tell you to knock before you come in? Can't I have at least a little privacy?"

China leaped onto the bed, his delicate features now taut with fury. "Don't you dare turn this on me!"

Hong Kong, feigning exhaustion, yawned and stretched his limbs unhurriedly - then, quicker than even he himself had thought possible, he snapped a photo of China; thankfully, the elder nation was too exasperated to notice. Hong Kong, sliding his phone underneath his pillow, watched disinterestedly as his older brother whined like a child about things he couldn't be bothered with:

"You're always on that phone, Jia Long. Just one day without it is all I ask!"

"Why do I never get through to you?"

"You're so disrespectful!"

"You -"

"Oh, would you look at that," Hong Kong remarked as his phone buzzed. "Ice texted me. He's at the front door, can't keep him waiting. Gotta go."

China's topaz eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. "What's he doing here?"

Hong Kong, scouring his closet for clothes that weren't dirty, replied with a "None of your business" and didn't say anything else.

He wasn't lying. Iceland really was waiting outside for him; both of the boys were on break, so Hong Kong had asked him to fly over so that they could hang out in a place where they knew where everything was located. Iceland, due to his status as his best friend, was also very well-liked among his fans, and they enjoyed coming up with new content for them together.

He wasn't frantic to get ready, and he knew he would most likely regret it when he noticed China scurry out of his room, but he continued anyway.

Emil wondered whether or not he was intruding. Time differences made him quite apprehensive, and so did cultural differences.

Am I too early? Am I too late?

As seconds passed without any response to the text he sent to Hong Kong, he became even more unsure of himself.

Am I being weird?

It had been tasking to actually find the home itself; Hong Kong told him that China had always favored a secluded life surrounded by peaceful nature, so they didn't get many visitors; especially of the human kind. Iceland respected hermit lifestyles, but did China really have to make sure his house was so difficult to actually reach?

Then again, the nature aspect wasn't unbearable. The rich scent of flowers and herbs was highly soothing, almost therapeutic; that, combined with the gentle rustling of leaves, the flow of freshwater streams, and the brilliant sunlight filtering and casting intricate patterns on the soil gave the impression of a painting. It resembled a setting from one of Norway's fantastical stories; too magnificent to be real, but here it was.

And yet, Hong Kong hated it.

He told Iceland that it was too uneventful, too tranquil. He favored the excitement and urgency of day-to-day life in the city - a natural feeling, considering where he was from. Unfortunately for him, China would never allow him to move away and live alone in his birthplace, and Leon was forced to accept this no matter how much he desired it.

God, how long has it been?

Pushing away thoughts of his friend's situation, Iceland was just about to send him a text demanding to know where he was when the door was flung open.

He flinched and froze in place, instinctively about to apologize for loitering, but relaxing when he saw that it was only China.

Even after knowing the old nation for many years, China still perplexed Iceland. He was simultaneously mature yet somehow childish, so not only was he identified as Hong Kong's parental figure, older brother, and teacher, but he also managed to pull off the role of the bratty sibling and the household's resident primadonna. Hong Kong often called him a drama queen (among other things), but China was always very kind to Iceland.

The first time Iceland had ever met China, the older nation was friendly, perhaps sensing the younger boy's timidity; since then, their relationship had been one of casual friendship. He, not being as assertive as the continental Europeans, watched from a distance as the stronger nations took advantage of China. Despite never being directly involved, he felt guilty all the same. The others often disrespected the Eastern country using both words and action; crude, vulgar things were said and done that made him cringe, but he did nothing. Presumably, everyone had forgotten about this time period - or chose not to mention it - but every time Iceland looked at China, the guilt would resurface.

That same guilt reemerged even as China flashed a bright smile at Iceland. "Hello, Emil! How are you? Why don't you come in?"

Iceland was caught off guard by both the use of his human name and the hospitality, but he reminded himself that this was probably a normal way people treated guests in China.

"Um, hi," the Icelandic boy muttered. Mentally kicking himself for such a curt response, he tried again. "Hey, Yao," he said, louder this time, "I'm fine, thanks. I'm just waiting for Leon, I don't need to come inside. Really."

China frowned, looking up at him with furrowed brows and pouty lips. "How long have you been waiting out here? Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No, no," he insisted, "it's fine! You don't have to do that for me. I just want this stupid fuckboy to come out and-" he cut himself off and covered his mouth in horror. Would China get offended by that?

Goddammit-

"Sorry," he forced out, "I didn't mean it like that. It's just -" Slang? A term of endearment? Would China even understand that, given his age?

China giggled.

Iceland stared.

"It's okay," China suppressed his laughter and directed a displeased glance over his shoulder. "He is being such a little shit today."

Iceland snorted, remembering how volatile the interactions between the two brothers could become. Before he could formulate a witty comment, Leon had arrived on the doorstep and shoved past Yao. The Chinese man opened his mouth to chide him, but shut it, looking defeated. Turning back to Iceland, he cracked one last grin, although this one wasn't as cheerful.

"Take care of him, Emil."

Iceland was about to tell the ancient nation that Hong Kong was far more capable than him in almost everything, but the look on China's face immediately put a stop to it.

"I -"

"Come on." Leon's voice was monotonous, like it usually was when he didn't want anyone to know how he felt. It was irritating, but Iceland went with it. Tugged away by Leon, he waved goodbye to China, who returned the favor. That awful feeling of guilt returned stronger than ever when he saw the last look on China's face before the door was shut.

Alone with Leon.

A feeling in his stomach like he was going to sing the Icelandic national anthem in front of an audience of 10,000 people established itself - Helvítis, why was he always anxious over something? - and now it would never leave. He stole a quick look at the figure beside him; Leon slowly, seductively ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip - God, did he look so good -

Iceland stopped walking and covered his face.

Leon didn't seem to notice this.

Iceland, after inhaling deeply, caught up with the Chinese boy again and inquired where they were going.

Leon quirked a bushy eyebrow without turning to face him. "Hong Kong. Duh. Where else?"

"Of course," Iceland murmured, hoping that Leon would detect the sarcastic tone of voice. "How are we getting there? We're in northern China."

"We're going on a really long bus ride."

Helvítis - "Dammit" in Icelandic.

Wen Cheng is the human name I found for Macao. I believe it means "achievement"?

That was fun! Next chapter: HongIce in Hong Kong!