Early April, 2010, the Conference Room in Stockholm, Sweden.

Iceland surveyed the chaos around him, sighing. He was trying desperately to block out all the noise in the room – it was ridiculously noisy and he was sick. America was talking really loudly with Denmark next to him, and it was hurting his head.

Everyone else was arguing too, though Iceland had forgotten why. Italy had probably said something offensive by accident, or France had groped someone. Probably England or Spain, they had nice asses.

Iceland snapped his violet-blue eyes shut, his face contorted in a frown. His boss had made him come here, even though he had a high fever and he felt like death.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, wincing a little at the sudden coldness on his forehead. Ugh, and he still had 3 hours left of this stupid, stupid conference. He began to mutter a string of Icelandic curse words under his breath, panting slightly. Why did his lungs feel so constricted?

Across the room Norway glanced at him, giving Romania a casual, friendly fist in the face. Iceland hadn't been well lately, and Norway just wanted to take him home. He looked as though he was suffering from all the noise, and Germany's yelling definitely wasn't helping, nor was it making the other countries "SIT DOWN UND SHUT UP, DUMMKOPFS!"

Norway sighed; he'd have to do it himself. He stood up quietly.

"That's quite enough of that. Be quiet, we need to start." Norway said calmly, raising his voice just loud enough so everyone could hear him. Everyone was very surprised at this quiet, stoic nation speaking up, and decided not to mess with him. The Nordic looked over at his little brother just in time to see him mouthing out a thanks, before scrunching up in a ball on his chair and burying his face in his knees.

"Now, let's start with England's speech. Takk." he said. He grabbed Denmark's ear and hauled him out of his seat and sat down next to Iceland, allowing England to start his speech.

Iceland was in total agony. He whimpered a little as a stab of pain raced through the entire left side of his head. He didn't want to look up into the brightly lit conference room. It hurt his eyes and made him want to puke. He could feel his stomach churning a little as it was.

He brought his knees down a little bit so as he could rub his aching stomach.

"Fjandinn! Þetta er svo sársaukafullt. Blóðugur skít!" he whispered under his breath, cracking open one eyelid. Norway was surveying him with a look of concern, and Liechtenstein, Hong Kong and Switzerland who were seated near him were giving him funny looks.

"Hvað, Bjóstu eitthvað?" he snapped. Norway rolled his eyes. Looks like Iceland would be fine.

The white-haired nation leaned forward and removed his brown jacket, slinging it over the back of his chair. Hong Kong gave him another weird look from the seat next to him.

"Like, what are you doing, Ice?" he asked.

"What? It's really hot in here!" Iceland moaned, taking off his scarf. He also unbuttoned the top button of his white shirt. Liechtenstein blushed, but Iceland didn't take any notice.

"Ice, it's snowing outside." Hong said. "And this room's heating has gone on the fritz. It's like freezing." he whispered. Iceland frowned.

"It's not."

"Look around Iceland. What's up with you?" he asked, slightly concerned.

Iceland used his right eye – the one that didn't feel as if it was being stabbed out of his skull with a lump of hot granite – to survey the room. Most of the nations were arguing again, but he noticed they were all bundled up. None of them had taken off their coats upon entering the room and the umbrellas the UK brothers brought with them were leaning against the wall, covered in melting snow.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't even felt the snow against his skin. The only nations not shivering right now were Canada and Russia, who were used to it. Iceland frowned, but dismissed it.

"I've got a fever, Hong." he said. He settled back into his chair, balling himself up again and ignoring Denmark's speech that was starting. This would be boring, not to mention stupid.

He rubbed his sore eyes and hot forehead, feeling sorry for himself. Hong Kong rolled his eyes.

"And so, that's why I think that pineapples should be illegal!" Denmark yelled excitedly. Iceland winced at the loud noise, rubbing his ears. "And so, onto my next point- Iceland?" he asked loudly, instantly drawing everyone's attention to the white-haired nations.

"Were you even paying attention bro?" he asked grumpily.

"Sorry, Denmark. It's just really hot in here." he sighed, eyebrows knitted together in a scowl again.

"No it's not. It's really ball-shrivellingly cold today. Even for Sweden." Denmark said. "Have you gone insane?"

"What? Hong Kong already said the same thing! And- ow. And Liechtenstein keeps looking at me funny." Iceland whined. He wasn't in the mood. Norway frowned again.

"What hurts, brother? Why did you say ow?" he asked.

"Nothing, it's just- skíta!" he yelled, springing out of his seat and clutching his stomach and wheezing a little. Germany sighed, irritated that the speech was being interrupted, even if it was pointless rubbish. This was probably the best meeting they'd ever had! France and England weren't even glaring at each other! This could not be interrupted. He pressed Iceland back into his seat, telling him quietly to stop causing drama. Iceland glared, but obeyed his command.

"Anyway, the next thing I was going to talk about is how lemons are evil, because lemons are pineapples..." Denmark began. Iceland glared around the room at those who were still staring at him and curled back into a ball.

His stomach gave a lurch and he clamped his hands over his mouth, ignoring the funny look Hong Kong gave him.

God damn it, this meeting was taking so long. Iceland was getting more attention than he usually did because he kept coughing. And apparently the edges of his clothes were singed or something. Not like he cared, he was just trying not to explode on someone. Prussia was poking him repeatedly in his shoulder and Norway was chanting "Onii-chan, onii-chan, onii-chan!" and smirking in an irritating fashion. Norway only ever made facial expressions to Iceland.

Iceland sighed and punched him weakly. He buried his head in his knees and a couple of tears squeezed out of his tightly shut eyes. He allowed himself to release a quiet sob of pain, but Hong Kong looked over. Iceland quickly changed it into a cough. Hong Kong thumped him on the back and Iceland's fake cough became a real fit of hacking death and phelgm.

Okay maybe he was exaggerating, but Iceland couldn't stop now. He was too busy trying to inhale to notice the thick, black ash and smoke pouring from his mouth as he coughed.

(A/N) Okay this is going to a be a story I only update when I feel like it xD

I decided out of the blue one day, when (probably) listening to a Eurovision song, that I would write a fanfic about Iceland. You can probably guess what's happening to Iceland right now but if you can't I'm not telling you xD

It's SO hard to copy and paste this chapter in, because my mouse decided to pack up, so I'm having to use my drawing tablet to actually use my computer.

This chapter was cut in half because it sucked :P the first half was okay but I removed the second half, re-wrote it and kept the cut off bit. That's all ramble though.

Also if the spacing/page breaks are awkward I apologise, I can't change it much because of my mouse xD