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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 6 years

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Hjem(løs) - Ivar x OC - Modern AU - Part 6

Hjem(løs) = Home(less)

Synopsis: It’s Juleaften and Silje walks home from a late Christmas shopping spree. On her way back to her apartment, she makes an unexpected encounter.

Word count: 7.6k

MASTERLIST

Part 5 <<< >>> Part 7

A/N: Now that I’ve lived in Copenhagen I can actually tell exactly where he’s sitting in this gif. It’s Ørstedsparken if you were wondering.

“Hey Silje, is it my imagination or did your friend Nicolaj flirt with me?” Ivar asked, breaking the surrounding silence.

They were walking home quietly. In the end their 'coffee' turned into a drink, then several drinks, and lasted well into the night. It was a fresh night but not so much as to be cold, and Silje and Ivar took their sweet time walking back in the still fairly busy streets of Copenhagen. Apparently they weren't the only ones who decided to go out today, and a lot of students celebrated the end of their exams too.

Silje scoffed and stretched her arms until her shoulders cracked slightly. Laughter fell from her lips, echoing through the street.

“My sweet innocent Ivar!,” She chuckled. “He was flirting so openly I was almost sorry for you,” she said. “And to be honest I'd be a bit worried if you hadn't noticed, he was all over you.”

“Just making sure,” Ivar grumbled, not happy about what she implied. “He could just be weirdly friendly, he looks like the type.”

Like me? Silje thought. But she suppressed the bitter thought as quickly as it popped in her mind. It wasn't Ivar's fault that he couldn't see she liked him. She should grow a pair and tell him point blank, except she was too cowardly to do so. She smiled wider to hide her sudden embarrassment.

“He does, right? And he gets friendlier with each drink too,” she told him. “I think it went well.”

“How so?” Ivar arched a brow and glanced at her, hands in his pockets. At this point it was that or risking he reaches out for her – a had one too many drinks and didn't trust himself to make the rigth decision.

“They like you,” she simply said with a little shrug.

Ivar stared at her, open-mouthed but silent. He didn't ask any further questions, nor did Silje provide a more detailed answer. He didn't need one though, he got it. It was important to her that her friends liked him, it was like an approval stamp. He hadn't realized what he got himself into earlier on, but he was glad he passed the test. He enjoyed their company too, Silje's group of friends was a merry troop of weirdos, but they were so much fun and seemed very close.

“Well what's not to like?” He ended up saying, easing away the slight tension in the air. “I'm tall, handsome, charming...” He enumerated his qualities, making large hand gestures for emphasis, before putting them back in his pockets. “Nicolaj has good taste.”

“I'll tell him that next time I see him,” Silje snickered, watching Ivar's grin disappear.

“Please, don't,” he winced. “Let's try to avoid a do-over of tonight.”

In Ivar's defence, Nicolaj really outdid himself with the flirting. Asmus pretended to gag several times throughout the evening, and Ava had to forcefully drag him away when they called it a night, while Nicolaj blew kisses to Ivar.

“I bet you secretly loved it!” Silje declared, poking Ivar in the chest with her pointer finger. They were now standing by the train platform, waiting for their ride home. “How long has it been since the last time you got hit on?”

The correct answer was two minutes before meeting her friends, when she once again behaved like a flustered schoolgirl around him, simultaneously hoping he didn't notice her odd behaviour and wishing he did. So maybe she didn't ask the right question. When was the last time Ivar realized he was being hit on, was better.

“Can't remember, I was a bit of a hermit between the moment I dropped out of uni and the day I met you,” he answered, unaware of Silje's quiet disappointment. “But I vaguely remembered how awkward it was to have someone rub against you when you're not into them,” he added, smiling somewhat embarrassingly, as if he was picturing something in his head.

“Don't you wish people were more direct when it came to these things?” Silje wondered out loud, looking to her left where the train was coming. It stopped, and when the doors opened they steppe in, finding two seats where they could speak freely. Her eyes then flickered to Ivar who gave her a questioning look. “Feelings. Attraction. Whatever you wanna call it.”

“Like pulling someone aside and making a grandiloquent love declaration?” He asked, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as though he was making fun of her – which he definitely was. Silje rolled her eyes.

“Not quite what I had in mind,” she said, pouting a little. “Just... if people could tell their feelings outright instead of dropping hints, hoping against hope that the other person will pick them up.”

“I see your point, but wouldn't it suck the fun out of it?” Ivar mused.

“The thrill is in the chase?” Silje replied, guessing what he meant. “I supposed yeah. But it would prevent so many people from being miserable. Haven't you ever pined after someone so hard it hurts?”

At this Ivar winced visibly, then smiled a little to himself, as if he was laughing at a joke Silje wasn't in on. Her curiosity pushed her to ask him what he was thinking about, but she swallowed down her questions. If he was thinking about someone in particular, she didn't want to know. After all, she was one of the pining miserable pining idiots. Her heart constricted in her chest and she looked away.

“Anyway, it was just a thought. I know it'll never happen, people don't have the balls for that,” she huffed after a moment of agreeable silence. They both seemed to have come to the conclusion that she was right, but her wish was unrealistic.

Ivar chuckled at her remark and he couldn't help but agree.

“Then why mention it at all?” Ivar asked, pushing his curiosity. This wasn't a nice question, it was nosy and irrelevant, and it forced Silje to tell him things that were none of his business. It was like asking her directly if she was pining after someone. Oh, and you know what? He might as well. “Is there someone you wish would do that?”

Silje blushed but tried to hide it as best she could with her hair, though the neons of the train weren't helping. However Ivar did not notice because he too was busy looking elsewhere, a little scared that if he looked her in the eyes she would see right through him.

She was so taken aback that she nearly spilled out the truth that she actually did want someone to tell her how he felt, hell, maybe she even wanted that grandiloquent love declaration Ivar spoke of minutes ago. But she quickly pulled herself back together and whipped her head towards Ivar.

“What kind of nosy question is that? It's none of your business Mister!” She told him when she was sure her voice wasn't going to betray her.

“Someone's getting defensive!” Ivar laughed. “I'll take that as a yes.”

This time there was no hiding the rising blush on Silje's cheeks, and Ivar saw it plain as daylight.

“So it's true!” He said, a wicked grin on his face – as if he wasn't handsome enough without that. “I was just teasing, but I'm right!”

Since when had he become so good at lying? He wasn't teasing at all – well, not only – but rather trying to fish out some information. If Silje liked someone he wanted to know.

His smiled fell. She did like someone. Who was it? Whoever he was, he couldn't be part of her group of friends, he saw the way she acted with them and it was nothing but friendly. Not to mention one of them was gay, and another one had a girlfriend.

The mood darkened significantly after that, both of them silently cursing their star for their one-sided feelings. Ivar sighed, and he thought about what Hvitserk told him – once again. It was haunting him.

You're lying to yourself if you think you still have valid reasons to stay quiet about your feelings.

After all, maybe he was right. One could argue that knowing Silje was interested in someone else was a good reason not to pipe word about his feelings for her, but Ivar knew better. Ivar knew that he could only blame himself if she walked away with another, because he was the one dropping hints and hoping against hope that she would pick them up.

She was right – of course he shouldn't be surprised, Silje was almost always right. People should stop beating around the bush, and thus prolonging their own agony. But she was right about something else too: he didn't have the balls to tell her.

It felt much easier when he thought about coming onto her a few months back, when he thought he was simply attracted to her, but wouldn't make a move for other very valid – or so he thought at the time – reasons. But now that those reasons were outdated, he had a much better one to shut the fuck up: self-preservation. Now... now his heart was in the balance.

“I had a surprise for you,” Silje said, bursting Ivar's bubble of melancholy. He blinked few times. Silje was standing now; they arrived to their station.

“A surprise?” Ivar asked as they exited the train to walk the remaining distance. “When did you find the time to prepare me a surprise before your exam?”

He didn't even question the fact that she had a surprise for him in the first place, that was merely Silje being her usual self. Sometimes he would come home and she would greet him with a 'SURPRISE' because she made his favourite dish, or found this awesome sweater in the local thrift store, or because she had a clay mask on and wanted to scare him. That last one worked unfailingly.

“I didn't prepare it yet, I wanted to make it after my exam but then...”

She didn't finish because they both knew what happened then, and they smiled to each other. Ivar was so glad his hands were in his pockets, he wanted to grab her waist and pull her to him so bad his fingers tingled.

“So what is it?” He inquired, wondering which kind of surprise it would be this time.

“Is the whole concept of a surprise foreign to you?” Silje replied with a snarky comment, which caused Ivar to send her a stinky look. “Don't give me that look! You'll know in less than an hour. I hope you still have a bit of room after all that beer.”

So it's a food-related surprise. He liked those a lot.

Ivar whined. “So long?” He threw his head back, his eyes focusing on the night sky.

“You are insufferable,” Silje complained, her voice laced with fondness. “Since you're so impatient I'm going to take my time.”

Ivar protested but seeing that his protests had the opposite of the desired effect he quickly stopped and grumbled some more to himself before letting it go. Silje smiled in quiet victory, smirking to herself. They reached their place, and Ivar was ordered to sit down and bit still – and quiet – while she prepared everything. If he cheated, she would eat it all herself – and the gods know Silje was going to carry out that threat, she would gobble it all down right in front of him.

So Ivar sat on the couch, arms crossed like a sulking child while the TV played some old black and white movie he had no interest in; however he needed to background noise to keep him distracted from the distinctive cooking noises coming from behind him. He couldn't tell what she was doing. He heard her open the fridge, use the electrical whipper, the clatter of glass, then it became quiet when she put whatever she was cooking in the oven, taking car of putting a towel before it, to hide what's inside.

“And now we wait!” She said proudly, apparently happy with herself. It had been quick, so Ivar guessed the cooking time was what would take most of the time.

“Already on it,” Ivar said, his biting remark forcing a giggle out of Silje who proceeded to wash the dishes and clean the counter.

“You're so grumpy, what is the matter with you?” She asked when she was done and joined him on the couch.

Any other day Ivar would have offered to wash the dishes for her, or help her with something, anything. Even when he knew she was going to say no, he still offered. She racked her brain to try and remember if something occurred earlier that upset him, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly when his mood darkened.

Was it her babbling about feelings? Was it Nicolaj's relentless flirting that wore him out? Could it be that he had something planned for them and had to abandon his plans in favour of spending the evening with a bunch of people he never met before? It was so unlike Ivar to act like that. Ever since he healed from his leg injury he was the light of Silje's life.

“Nothing...” He told her, forcing a smile on his face to ease her worries. Silje didn't buy the lie, but she dropped the matter anyway, not wanting to force him to say something he wasn't ready to share with her. “I need to take a leak.”

Silje's left eyebrow twitched when Ivar stood up, leaving her sitting there with her concerns while he took off to avoid further questions.

“You might be tall and handsome but you can scratch charming off the list!” She shouted at him after the bathroom door closed on him.

Laughter erupted from behind the door. Silje smiled to herself. Maybe all hope wasn't lost to salvage this evening, even if something bothered him.

When he came back he seemed to be in a lighter mood, though Silje knew it was forced on his part. Unbeknownst to her he hadn't gone to the bathroom to take a leak, but to give himself a pep talk in front of the mirror and get his shit together. He didn't like to worry Silje. He liked to see her smile because of him. He liked to make her life easier, and happier.

Fucking hell, he was so in love it was disgusting.

He only came out when Silje called his name again, asking if he needed help in there. Ivar rolled his eyes before walking out, smiling somewhat convincingly – it was the best he could do. Hvitserk's words still nagged him. They were like an chihuahua biting at his ankles: annoying, testing his patience, and hard to ignore.

“You can't help me with this,” Ivar said, leaning over the back of the couch. Silje twisted around and crossed her arms on the back of the couch to face Ivar.

They both knew that 'this' was not referring to whatever he was doing in the bathroom, and Silje accepted it. It was good to know that he only refused her help because she couldn't help him, and not because he didn't want it, though she had guess as much by now. It wasn't in Ivar's character to be aloof and cold.

“I figured that much,” she told him. “Care for a game of cards while we wait?”

“Happy Families?” Ivar laughed, looking at the deck she set on the table. “Finally you chose a game you have a chance to win.”

“Wait until I hand your ass to you before boasting!” She warned him, holding a finger out at him, which Ivar turned away from him.

“It's very rude to point at people with your finger, don't you know that?” He patronized her, knowing full well that it irked her.

“Oh I know,” she glared at him. “The game is on!”

There never was a more competitive pair than the two of them, even when they played children games. The need to win was present all the same. Maybe it was because his mind was elsewhere, or maybe Silje had gone about it in a smarter way than he did, but the result was undeniable: she won. It was Silje's turn to boast and rub her victory in Ivar's face – he wasn't a sore loser thank the gods, unlike Silje who sulked every time.

Her victory dance was cut short by the oven's alarm, and Silje bolted to the kitchenette to retrieve their midnight snack, because that's how late it was.

“Not too soon, I was getting old!”

“Shut up Ivar.”

He was going to retort something else but then Silje set down a tray with four small disnes, and two spoons, a huge smile on her face. She didn't say anything but instead waited for his reaction, which was slow in coming. When it became apparent that she wasn't going to get anything out of him like this, Silje spoke up.

“So? It's crème brûlée, you said it was on your list, right?” She prompted him to say something, and Ivar swallowed thickly, not sure what to say.

If he opened his mouth he might say something dumb he would regret later like “I love you so goddamn much” because of course she remembered his list, and she set to cross as many things off of it as she could. As if he needed another reason to be thankful for having her in his life. In all honesty, he didn't say anything because if he so much as tried to coax a sound out of his throat he might cry.

What he wouldn't give to be able to take off again, hide in the bathroom and turn on the shower so he could let the tears flow again. It had became a habit of his over the weeks, to just let it all out while he showered, so he could blame his red eyes on the shampoo if Silje asked him about them. Sometimes he wondered what would have become of him if she wasn't... Silje.

Ivar nodded and offered her a small smile since she was still staring at him in wait of a reaction. She expected something different, something a bit more enthusiastic. Instead she got a blank stare and complete and utter silence. For her own sake, she decided to take it as a compliment – Ivar was so moved that words eluded him. It wasn't far from the truth.

They ate in silence, the only sound in the small apartment coming from the tv and the spoon clicking against the glass dishes she baked the crèmes brûlées in. Meanwhile, Silje's imagination ran wild, wondering if maybe she had done something wrong. Did Ivar have a painful memory attached to this dessert? Should she have made smørrebrød? After a while she started recounting how her exam went, just to say something. But Ivar just looked awfully serious and lost in his own world, probably not listening to a word of what she said.

“Ivar?” She asked, tentatively. His name caught his attention and he looked at, staring her right in the eyes.

“I have something to tell you.” He had blurted out the sentence before he could stop himself.

It became too heavy to carry around his secret crush. More than anything he wished that Silje would notice and say something about it – it wasn't like she was shy – but he must have been better at hiding his feelings than he thought, because she was utterly oblivious. Hiding wasn't even the proper word because he didn't put much effort in it, he just tried to respect her boundaries.

Only one solution left in this situation: tell her outright. What she told him on their way back gave him food for thought, and it hadn't left the back of his mind all evening, making him question his approach to the issue.

The issue was that he considered it an issue. Having feelings shouldn't, and wasn't an issue. He had to own up to it, and tell her. Because she deserved to know, and he deserved a chance to let her know. She was staring back just as intensely, not knowing where his sudden jolt of awakeness came from.

“I-” She began but was immediately cut short by her ring tone.

She brought her lips in a thin line, frowning and pulling her phone out of her bag. If it was Ubbe asking to speak to Ivar again she was going to change number. But it wasn't.

“I did it!” The voice in the phone shouted so loud even Ivar could hear it, and Silje almost dropped the object. “I DID IT SIL!”

“Hvitserk would you mind turning down the volume?” She shouted back in the phone, holding it at a respectable distance from her sensitive ears. She pressed the speaker button so Ivar could be part of the conversation. “You're on speaker.”

“Great! Listen to this Ivar you little shit!” Hvitserk snickered in victory. “I manned up and asked Inge out- I mean to marry me. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.”

Ivar wanted to grab Silje's phone and throw it out the window. Hvitserk could not out him right now, right before Ivar did it himself.

“Now you-”

“That's fantastic news!” Silje cut him off, making Ivar nearly faint in relief. He was going to strangle Hvitserk, Inge will just have to find another father for her children. “How- when...” She stuttered out, unable to put order in her thoughts but clearly asking for details. “Wait why do you call in the middle of the night to tell me that? At least tell me you went down on one knee and didn't just pop the question during pillow talk!”

Hvitserk laughed nervously but elected to ignore Silje's question, as she had aimed right.

“You're the man!” Ivar said with genuine enthusiasm, though he was still ready to murder Silje's tactless brother with is are hands next time he sees him.

So much for the declaration of feelings, Ivar could hardly steal the scene now, and Silje was way too excited about the news to listen to him now anyway. She happily chatted with her brother while Ivar grabbed his second serving of crème brûlée, cursing Hvitserk to the pits of Hel.

“Going out?” Ivar asked, humming to himself as his eyes scanned the pages of the book he was reading. A heavy illustrated volume with laminate pages; the title red Medieval Scandinavia: Overview of Viking Warfare.

Silje, who was bent in two, putting on her shoes, looked up.

“Eh- yeah, meeting with Hvitty, Ubbe and Sigurd, he's decided to come out of his man cave and grace us with a few hours of his presence,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “The gods know when he'll do that again, so I made some time to have a drink with my brothers. Besides they are rarely all back at the same time.”

“One's still missing,” Ivar said, absent-mindedly, biting down on his pencil while he read, until he found something worth jotting down.

“Are you complaining?” Silje giggled.

“Hey, I was wondering, how many more exams do you have?” He asked, this time looking at her.

“Oh- ugh, three. I still have to attend the classes until the exams are over, but in two weeks' time I'll be done,” Silje said, though not knowing why he asked. His eyes focused back on his book. He was biting the inside of his left cheek, as if deep in thought. “Do you want to come?” She asked after a minute of silence. “I think Hvitserk has yet to announce his engagement, it could be fun.” Ivar was so engrossed in his book that he could barely participate in a conversation right now.

“Mmmh, no thanks,” he hummed. “Have fun!”

Right. Silje smiled to herself and fought the urge to roll her eyes again. This boy was a history nerd, she found that out the moment he plunged himself back into his thesis and began to bring home thick volumes from the library, claiming that he had tons of things to catch up on. That was true for the most part, but he was clearly overdoing it.

“You too!” Silje took her keys and after a second of hesitation also grabbed a light scarf before going out in the windy streets. The sun might show his face during the day but it became chilly in the evening.

For once she needn't run to the S-train because the oldest of the three was waiting for her by the door when she walked out of her building. Through the windows she could see Hvitserk waving at her from the back-seat and next to him was Sigur, wearing his usual ticked off expression, like he was in the presence of a five year old – which wasn't too far off when you considered Hvitserk's mental age.

The greetings were warm and noisy, and Silje was thankful Ubbe let her ride shotgun instead of being trapped back there with Hvitserk and Sigurd. She loved all of her brothers, the gods be witness, but these two got along like cat and dog, and it was never a good idea to stand in between.

“Let's fucking go!” Hvitserk exclaimed, setting the general mood.

“Oh, you haven't met Ivar!” Ubbe said, suddenly getting why Sigurd seemed so confused when Silje recounted her latest adventures to her finally returned brother.

Catching up over a drink had become a tradition of sorts for them, and there was always much to catch up on given how Silje liked to go out and participate in events of all sorts. She still volunteered for the Red Cross, taught English to middle schoolers, and sometimes walked the dog of the old lady living on the ground floor. She shamefully admitted that she had been doing less since Ivar came into her life.

“Who's Ivar?” He said, squinting his eyes at the name.

“Silje's boyfriend,” Hvitserk said, earning a smack behind the head from the chief party concerned. “Ouch!”

“He's not!” She snapped, hand still in the air, ready to strike again if Hvitserk so much as showed a sign of thinking to reply. “He's a friend of mine, he's been crashing on my couch for a while now.”

Before agreeing to come to this reunion Silje, Ubbe, and Hvitserk talked about what they should say, and they decided not to share Ivar's personal life with anyone if it wasn't necessary. Sigurd was naturally uninterested in strangers' lives, he wouldn't ask any questions, therefore there was no need to lie, they would simply withhold the whole truth.

Furthermore, it might not be the best idea to tell their family. What they didn't know can't hurt them, and Ivar was a proud man, he wouldn't want his past to become public knowledge. If anyone asked who the hell Ivar was, he was a friend Silje met at University.

“Another stray dog you bring home? Don't you ever learn?” Sigurd huffed, crossing his arms like their mom usually does when she was scolding them.

“What?” Silje let out, her voice too high pitched to sound natural. “Take it back you fuck ass!” She growled, switching to defensive mode. She smacked him same as she did Hvitserk earlier, and both of the boys looked at each other like it was the other's fault they got hit. “And you-” she turned back to Hvitserk. “Be serious for a second. He's your friend too.”

“So is someone gonna tell me why the hell this Ivar guy is such a big deal?” Sigurd sighed. His left hand rested across the back seat while his right one now fiddled with his empty glass. Ubbe's eyes locked with it before raising an arm, gesturing the waiter to bring another pint.

“He's become Silje's shadow,” Ubbe put in. “Can't really catch up on what Silje's been doing without mentioning him.”

As if he had been waiting for an occasion to start chatting away again Hvitserk sat up straight and began talking again in this animated way of his. Silje knew it meant nothing good for her – and she couldn't reasonably smack him upside the head again, they were in a public place after all.

“They are always together – don't even deny it,” he added for Silje who found the bottom of her glass fascinating. “She took care of the fucker for weeks after he hurt his leg, and she cooks for him, and gives him her library card so he can borrow books freely. I can barely see one without the other!” Hvitserk sniggered in his glass of beer before taking a gulp down.

Ubbe didn't interject but quietly nodded to everything Hvitserk said like he agreed with all of it.

“So?” Sigurd asked flatly, not getting why his brother was loosing his shit over this.

“Friends don't do this kind of shit!” Hvitserk said, looking at Sigurd as if his brother had grown an extra limb. Sigurd looked back and shrugged, clearly not seeing what Hvitserk claimed was obvious.

“Since when are you so observant? I bet you're seeing things,” Sigurd argued, very clearly annoyed by his younger brother's far-fetched theories about their sister's love life or lack thereof. “Tell him Silje!”

“Yes, tell him I'm right Sil!” Hvitserk replied, also looking at her.

Silje smiled, shaking her head slightly. How many times had she been on the receiveing end of those stares? She couldn't remember the number of times she had to act as a mediator for these two. Ubbe seemed to enjoy the show, sipping his beer in amused silence.

“I'm not saying anything,” she eventually said, earning a round of groans and complains. “It's not your business!” She argued, raising her pointer finger to them both and giving them the Mom Look.

“Oh c'mon, now you're being ridiculous,” Hvitserk snorted. “You're our only sister, we make it our business.”

“You're meddling!” Sigurd now accused Hvitserk, earning an offended gasp in answer. “You're playing match making, and that's why you see signs everywhere!”

Silje wished Sigurd was right, because his theory was valid and actually happened before, but this time she couldn't say the same. Hvitserk might exaggerate a ton, but he wasn't dead wrong either, because Silje did bear feelings for Ivar, and she was not the best at hiding what she felt.

“I'm betting my money on Hvitty this time,” Ubbe cut in, joining the conversation. “They are very cosy around each other.”

The three brothers began arguing as though Silje wasn't sitting right there, blushing both out of fluster and second hand embarrassment – people were staring.

“Can we not go back to Hvitserk's proposal?” Silje whined, trying to change the subject but they didn't even hear her talk over the noise they were making and the background music in the bar.

“I've been with Inge since the dawn of time, your sentimental life is so much more interesting little sister,” Hvisterk said in a huff, resembling a gossiping schoolgirl as he leaned closer towards his siblings to recount Silje and Ivar's odd courtship rituals. Yes, he said courtship rituals, and Silje's eyes rolled so far back in her head she saw her brain for the briefest moment.

“No offence Sil, but the way you flirt is shameful,” he told her, increasing the blush on her cheeks. Silje willed herself to cool down, but the heat of her flaming cheeks didn't decrease in the least, and she inwardly cursed her fair complexion.

“I take great offence!” She barked back, glaring daggers at an oblivious and slightly buzzed Hvitserk who couldn't take a hint if it knocked him out.

Sigurd listened still, although clearly not interested and a little bored. He leaned his head on his right arm and stared at the golden liquid in his glass. Silje decided that today Sigurd was her favourite brother, and that she was going to give Hvitserk a piece of her mind as soon as she could corner him and have a little one on one with him.

Ubbe seemed relatively disinterested too, though he wore a constant little smirk, more amused by Hvitserk's behavior than by what he was saying.

“Let him have his fun, you can plan payback another day,” Ubbe nudged Silje in an attempt to make her relax.

She hadn't realized how tense she was up until this point, when she flinched at the contact of her brother's arm against hers. She gritted her teeth and breathed deeply, summoning what little patience she still had – it was going to be a long night.

After his failed attempt at confessing, Ivar clammed up. He didn't try to say anything again, and maybe this had something to do with the atmosphere that was a little off? Or maybe he was imagining things, and nothing had changed.

The point is, Ivar was restless, fidgety, and he wanted to grab Silje by the shoulders to shake her like a tree while yelling 'I love you dumbass, can't you see it?'. Except he knew that would be a bad way to go about it.

“Should've gone with her,” he grumbled to himself, having lost interest in his history book half an hour ago. “I could do with a beer.”

He couldn't pinpoint when exactly he picked up alcohol again, but he could count on Silje to tap his fingers if she thought he drank too much – the girl barely let him become tipsy, on the ground that she's “not dragging his piss drunk ass home”. It made him chuckle, picturing her stern glare as she pushed his half empty pint of beer over to Hvitserk because the boy had a supernaturally high tolerance to alcohol, while Ivar, who hadn't touched it in years, held his drink like a teenage girl. He wasn't proud of it, but that's what you get when you stop drinking for a long time – not that it was a bad thing, Silje often reminded him.

He didn't even know where they went, or he could have joined them. Out of sheer hope he checked him phone – sometimes Silje texted him where she went, just to be safe. Though he didn't know why she would need to when she was with her brothers. He was curious about this Sigurd, the one who supposedly hated everyone and wouldn't care for meeting Ivar even if he was being paid for it.

He sounded even more of a hermit than Ivar, he mused, sliding his phone out of his pocket. It lit up and and the screen displayed a couple of messages.

From Hvitserk

if you don't confess soon i'll do it for you!!!

From Silje

Kill me please, Hvitserk is the most annoying drunk

He ignored the first message and only opened Silje's. His fingers flew over the tactile screen and he sent his answer. Less than a minute later, the phone buzzed.

From Silje

We're at the Dubliner at Amagertorv

Come save me and i'll make you as many crème brûlées as you want

He smirked. She provided him the perfect excuse to come, he wouldn't even have to admit that he hated hanging out on his own at her place. He felt like a squatter, it didn't sit right with him. After all these months you'd think he felt like home, and it's true that Silje always managed to make him feel like it when she was around, treating him like he wasn't a parasite living on her couch for free, but whenever she was away, it felt... cold.

Now he was being mushy and ridiculous, he couldn't think this way. This apartment was totally fine, there was nothing cold or unwelcoming about it. Deep down, Ivar knew that he felt like this because he was crushing so hard on Silje that he was miserable when she wasn't there. Pathetic really.

Still, he got up and put on his sneakers and an old suede jackets – it had lots of frills and was two sizes too big but he liked it and bought it from a thrift store. Within a minute he was outside, strolling towards the right bus stop.

“Will you stop now? Can I at least speak for myself?” Silje groaned in frustration, her eyebrows twitching angrily while her brothers grew more and more inebriated and less and less reasonable.

“To say what?” Ubbe questioned – he had now joined Hvitserk in his teasing, and even Sigurd seemed to enjoy himself, though he could hardly know where the truth lied, having never met the chief concerned party of this friendly argument.

“You're just going to deny it all,” Sigurd said.

“Yes, because what he says it dumb. On what ground do you claim that Ivar likes me?” She shot back, her eyes switching to Hvitserk and his reddened face. He really was drunk now. “And you're done with beer, you get water from now on!”

“Oh don't be a buzz kill!” He complained, quickly emptying his glass as if he was afraid she'd snatch it from him. “I'm great, and I'm definitely right! You two are like... like... those weird exotic birds who dance for each other as a seduction ritual.”

“Right, because you're the expert in relationships of the family,” she replied, her voice holding an edge. “I'd give more credit to Ubbe's opinion in the matter.”

“What does that even mean?” All three of them exclaimed – Hvitserk offended because he was the one who had been with the same girl the longest, Ubbe vexed by what Silje's remark implied, and Sigurd pissed because he wasn't even considered for the position of lady's man. All as bad as one another. Silje sighed, once again feeling like she was the oldest of them all. If only Bjorn was here, he'd put an end to this silly conversation, claiming it was idiotic high school level gossip. Which it was.

“Oh wow, I think Silje was right,” Hvitserk suddenly said, looking past her and blinking a few times, as if he had something stuck in his eye. “This beer must be stronger than I thought, I'm having visions.”

They turned towards the front door, and sure enough there stood Ivar, looking dashing even in his casual second hand clothes, and his untamed hair. Silje had to summon an enormous amount of self control in order not to blush again when he scanned the place and finally locked eyes with her, his whole face lighting up.

“I see him too, brother,” Ubbe laughed at Hvitserk's dramatic attitude.

“See?” Hvitserk said to Sigurd, focusing again. “She's been away from him for two hours at most and he came over! They can't live without each other!” He whined, and the siblings didn't know if he was simply complaining or if he was seriously trying to demonstrate that Silje and Ivar were indeed soulmates. Like he was in physical pain from seeing them silently pine after each other.

“Does he ever shut up?” Sigurd groaned, pushing his younger brother away when he began to cling onto him.

“Just let him annoy you for a bit, it'll make him happy,” Ubbe sniggered in his beer, talking about his brother as he would a child.

“I'm the one who asked him to come, I needed someone who would take my side since you traitors teamed up against me,” Silje huffed, realizing a little too late that admitting to having invited Ivar only added to Hvitserk's point.

They all smirked but miraculously remained quiet. Silje braced herself for what was to come. Both relieved to see Ivar because she knew he at least would be on her side if her brothers decided to keep arguing about silly matters, and worried that Hvitserk wouldn't watch what he said. She glared at him for the briefest moment before greeting Ivar, introducing him to the third Ragnarsson.

Sigurd snorted and looked away, deeply unimpressed after all the fuss Hvitserk made about this dude who was supposedly Silje's future husband. Ivar, having been warned of the moods of the third brother, did not take offence. In fact his smile never even wavered as he sat down on the bench next to Silje, and to his left was Ubbe sitting on a chair. They managed to find a small corner table thank the gods, because it meant the whole pub couldn't hear their nonsensical blabbering.

“Did you finish your book already?” Silje asked, earning a sheepish shake of the head.

“Vikings can wait, I thought I'd socialize a bit instead,” he said, his fingers tapping the table, to Sigurd's utmost annoyance.

Not that Sigurd had anything against the sound, he just decided that this Ivar guy was annoying. Everything he did ticked him off for some reason. And he hadn't even had the time to do anything yet. He just look a bit too nice to be nice. If that made sense.

Ivar gestured to the waiter to bring him a pint, and asked what he'd missed. A chorus of unintelligible muttering answered his question, making him wonder if he had interrupted a private conversation or something of the sort, but he elected to ignore it. He came here to have fun.

“I guess I should start by drinking to you Hvitserk,” Ivar declared the moment his order came. “Haven't had a chance to congratulate you in person yet.”

Everyone at the table raised their glass to drink to the same thing they did all evening, though gladly doing it again. Hvitserk smiled a devilish smile that made Silje want to do something drastic like stab Ubbe in the thigh with one of the toothpicks they were brought when they ordered cheese and crackers, to create a distraction and quickly snatch Ivar away.

“Thanks man,” Hvitserk said, looking awfully sober now for some reason. Silje didn't put it past her youngest brother to pretend to be drunk merely to get away with his stupid behaviour. “Maybe I'll drink to you one day!” The idiot winked, he dared...

“Skål!” Ubbe shouted before Silje could kill the soon-to-be-married Ragnarsson, or before Ivar could add two and two together.

The evening carried on on a much nicer note, as if Ivar's presence forced the brothers to behave, and stop teasing Silje about stuff they had no business knowing about. Although she hated to admit it, they were right – not that she was going to voice that, she would sooner die than give Hvitserk this pleasure. Her heart did do some weird acrobatics in presence of Ivar, and her hands did become fidgety and sweaty. How many times had she rubbed her palms on her dress? The gods know.

However happy she was to be reunited with her brothers, Silje was still in the middle of her exams, so when the clock stroke midnight she called it a night. Of course that was greeted with a chorus of protests but when she explained they let it slide.

Claiming that they had their fiancées to go back to, Ubbe and Hvitserk agreed that it might be a good time to go home. Sigurd said he would stay a while longer. This allowed Ivar to take his place in the car. It was a short drive to Silje's building, and since Ubbe and Hvitserk lived in opposite directions, the youngest decided to walk the rest of the way, having nothing urgent to do, and claiming that the fresh air would do him good after so many pints.

Ivar looked at Silje chatting with Ubbe as they said goodbye, not noticing the little smile that formed naturally when his eyes fell on her. He was brought out of his daydream when someone nudged him in the ribs.

“What are you so afraid of?” Hvitserk snorted, amused by Ivar's constant worrying and postponing the inevitable.

It was a tough question to answer, not because he didn't know the answer but because he knew it and it was lame as hell. He was afraid that she didn't return the feelings, and that he'd put the break on a beautiful friendship.

“I guess you don't have to answer then,” Hvitserk said, defeated. “Hey, I forgot to tell you but we're having an engagement party! June 29th, and you're invited of course.” He smirked. “You can go as Sije's plus one.”

Ivar didn't say anything but he smiled and nodded. His eyes drifted back to Silje's form, unable to look away. He seriously could not help himself, she was beautiful. The skirt of her dress was wrinkled on the back because she sat too long, and her face was shiny because of how hot and damp it was in the crowded bar, but she was breathtaking.

“Alright...” Hvitserk said as he stretched. “I'm gonna go now. Oh and by the way, she likes you too.”

Ivar stayed still and blinked, not sure if he heard wrong or not. His friend had already turned on his heels, and distanced himself from the building, heading towards his own place. When Ivar came back to earth, he was already far.

“You can’t just say that and then disappear!” Ivar shouted at Hvitserk, but the young soldier didn't turn around and continued walking away, laughing to himself. The bastard really did just disappear without another word.

If you like my work please consider buying me a coffee <3

A/N: This contains only three of the prompts you guys gave me, but the fourth one will be in future parts :)

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