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“Oppa,” Soo Jin’s voice is soft, and he rouses himself from his nap with great reluctance as she nudges him with her shoulder. He can’t remember the last time he had such a deep, dreamless sleep, and he wants to wrap himself in his sister’s warmth until the ice from his bones melted away. She draws his hand to her mouth, hot breath a relief against his freezing fingers. “We need to go,” she tells him.
He grunts, rubbing the grit from his eyes while she tugs him to his feet. Like children, they cling to each other as they navigate the crowds. The Olympics were, once again, a great success, and there’s a flicker of pride in his chest as he takes note of Soo Jin’s work. She always had an eye for planning grand, opulent events.
“Yao wants us to come to his hotel later tonight,” she informs him as she leads them to a non-descript metal door near the back of the arena; a private room meant only for the nation personifications to escape the populace. He bites back a grimace.
“Me?” He asks. “Or just you?”
“All of us,” she says, and his gut roils in protest.
“No.” He growls. “Not if he’s there. How he can forgive him so fast, I don’t know, but I refuse.” Soo Jin just laughs, rueful and bitter.
“We’re countries, oppa. We can’t hold grudges forever, even if we want too.”
There’s a deeper meaning to her words, he knows, but he keeps his mouth shut as they step into the lounge.
Several other nations were already occupying the various couches, and a hulking blond that he knew to be Denmark perks up as soon as they entered.
“Soo Jin!”
Despite himself, Sang Kyu frowns, and looks towards his sister in hopes that his obvious affections were one-sided. No such luck. Despite her somberness only seconds before, there’s a pleased smile on her face as the Nordic nation bounded towards her.
“Great showing, elskede!” He says; a heavy arm settling across her tiny shoulders.
“Thank you,” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while shooting him a glance with raised eyebrows. His frown deepens, and her eyebrows rise even higher. Memories of past paramours told him that there would be no winning this battle of wills, but he tries anyways.
After a minute, he gives up, and the haughty look of victory she wears makes him want to sigh. Oblivious, or maybe smart enough to know not to come between their conflict, Denmark invites them to an early dinner.
“We should all grab some food,” but his eyes are solely for his sister, and he can feel a small niggle of approval in his chest. Damnit. “Alfred mentioned this great bibimbap place just down the street.”
Something flashes across Soo Jin’s face, and Sang Kyu opens his mouth to decline, but he’s a second too late.
“Alfred!” She calls, and he curses her in a dialect so old that no one save for them remembers. The grin she gives him is that of a kumiho, evil and mischievous.
“Sup, my dudes.” The man in question comes up behind him. He hates how he towers over him with his bright blue eyes and blinding, white tooth grin.
“We’re getting dinner,” she says, “want to come with?”
“Is that even a question, Soo?” He pumps a fist. “I’m always down for Korean cuisine.”
“Great. Come on, oppa.” And, so he couldn’t make a quick escape, his sister linked their arms together.
“Oh, hey, Sang Kyu. How are you?” His chest went tight at the question, but it’s the guilelessness in his eyes that makes him both hot and cold at the same time.
“I’m doing very well, America. Congratulations on your athletes; they’re very talented.” America grinned, showing of those ridiculously straight teeth of his, and he patted his back in a friendly manner.
“Thanks! Your guys are pretty awesome, too. And you don’t have to call me America, man. We’re not countries here, just people coming to support our players; Alfred’s fine.”
He hopes that the sudden rush of color in his cheeks can be blamed on the cold, but the elbow in his ribs tells him otherwise. Smug satisfaction comes off her in waves as his sister disengaged from him, taking Denmark’s outstretched hand.
“And just call me Matthias,” Denmark tells him, looking beyond thrilled as he laces his fingers together with Soo Jin’s.
“Ah, well, if you insist.” He feels like he’s drowning in the awkwardness, but no one makes any mention of it as they draw him into conversation about anything and everything. There’s no mention of politics or policies as they argue over whether or not flavored soju goes better with bibimbap, and he feels himself relaxing.
“You need to grow up, dongsaeng,” he tells Soo Jin after she asks for a glass of juice, “and learn how to take your soju straight.”
She just sticks her tongue out at him, holding out a lettuce wrap for the waiting Matthias. She does the same for him a minute later, and there’s something comforting about the fact that she still overstuffed them to the point of bursting.
The night went on, and the table is littered with empty soju bottles and cleaned plates as the waitresses rushed to clear them. Maybe it’s the liquor, but he finds his leg pressed flush against Alfred’s as he elbows him lightly. The blond turned towards him, a question on his tongue, but he stops short once he sees the lettuce wrap waiting for him.
Sang Kyu’s cheeks were hot, and he almost wanted to run away, but Soo Jin met his eye over the table and raised her saucer in encouragement.
“Are you going to eat it or what?” He groused; refusing to meet his painfully blue eyes. Another second of silence, and then Alfred was leaning forward; his mouth warm around his fingers as he takes it from his hand.
The feeling sticks with him as he helps his sister stagger up the stairs, and when she nuzzles the crook of his neck in her drunken haze, he whispers a soft ‘thank you’.
“Anything for you, oppa,” she slurs, “I love you.”
He just holds her closer as she drifts off.
“I love you, too.”