The Armory of the Mind

by Daegaer

Summary:

On getting back together in the modern era, Lithuania protects himself in his relationship with Poland by demanding to call the shots. Poland has a lot to make up for.

Notes:

Written for the "Choose your Own Author" round in Yaoi Challenge

Thank you to Puddingcat for her indefatigable beta-reading!

"Language is the armory of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests" – Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"Oh my God," Poland said, for the eighth time, if Lithuania had felt like admitting he was counting. "Oh my God. Liet, she's – " he shut up and just looked furious, which was an improvement on the last time he'd said anything about Belarus. "Liet," he said, his tone as sweetly reasonable as if he were talking to a child. "Let's get you out of your coat, at least."

"I'm fine," Lithuania said. The pain in his hands was perfectly obvious to him now, but he didn't see why he should give Poland the chance to say he'd told him so.

"Liet, for God's sake! Just let me take your coat!"

Lithuania let him unbutton the coat and pull it off carefully. He sat down at the table and rested his forearms on the edge, taking a deep breath before looking at his fingers. Oh. Yes, well perhaps Poland wasn't overreacting. Poland all but ran from the room, reappearing a short while later with bandages and tape.

"Hand. Now," he said, and started taping up Lithuania's fingers when he was presented with the required extremity. "Your poor fingers," he said, and Lithuania was startled to hear how close to tears he was.

"Poland, it's OK, it doesn't hurt much."

"It shouldn't hurt at all." Poland looked up from his task. "You totally know that."

"Belarus just doesn't know her own strength," Lithuania said weakly. Poland didn't say anything, no doubt thinking that two hands' worth of broken fingers could make his point for him perfectly well. Lithuania meekly offered his other hand when prompted and swallowed the ibuprofen Poland popped in his mouth when both hands were taped up. The mug of tea was a little difficult to manage, but he didn't spill any. "Thank you," he said. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"Course I worry about you," Poland muttered. He didn't sound angry or sad any more, just weary. "You're, like, my best friend. C'mon, let's get you to bed."

It was when he was sitting on his bed, Poland crouched down to unlace his boots, that a more pressing problem hit Lithuania. He looked at his taped-up fingers and tried to wiggle them even a little. Nothing. There was no way he could hold anything smaller than the mug of tea that was contributing to the problem.

"Um. I have to go to the bathroom," he said.

Poland pulled the boot off. "Well, you know where it is, Liet."

"Yeah, but – could you take the tape off one hand and do it up again?" Poland's questioning look made him sigh. "I won't even be able to open my trousers, let alone – aim."

"Dude," Poland said with a sigh. "Come on." He took Lithuania's arm and pulled him along to the bathroom. "I'll help out."

"Hey, hey!" Lithuania said as Poland unzipped his fly. "I'm sure I can manage."

Poland gave him a wry look. "Right. Because I've totally never touched your cock before. Think of me as a nurse, Liet. If it helps, I'm sure I've got a nurse's uniform –"

"That doesn't help," Lithuania grumbled, as Poland gently freed him from his underwear. "Turn your head at least," he muttered, face burning. Poland sighed in mock irritation, but looked at the wall and Lithuania found it easier to pee. It was still embarrassing, but it was a relief to go.

"Dude, don't splash," Poland said, looking back.

"I'm not the one in command of the guidance system," Lithuania said. He rolled his eyes. "Laughing only makes it harder to aim, Poland." His earlier tense unhappiness broken, Poland continued sniggering, his eyes screwed shut in an attempt, Lithuania recognised, at not breaking into guffaws. It was infectious, and Lithuania found himself sniggering too, resting his forehead down on Poland's shoulder, his shyness gone. "OK," he gasped, "I'm done." Poland gave him a little shake and made him decent again before washing his hands.

"Teeth!" Poland said, determinedly cheery, grabbing up Lithuania's toothbrush.

"I'll be fine," Lithuania said.

"Don't be gross, Liet. Let me help, I don't mind." Poland squeezed toothpaste onto the brush. "We heal quickly, you'll be OK in a couple of days, but for now –" He brandished the toothbrush.

"I feel like a kid," Lithuania muttered, and obediently let Poland brush his teeth. Then he obediently went back to his room and let himself be helped into his pyjamas, and was tucked into bed. "I'm getting you a doll for Christmas," he said, "seeing as you're enjoying this so much."

"Cool," Poland said. "Get me lots of accessories for her too. Back in a mo –" He went off and Lithuania heard him go downstairs. After a few minutes he heard Poland come up the stairs again. "Here you go," Poland said, and tinkled a small decorative bell at him. "If you need something –" he said, ringing it again.

"That's really annoying," Lithuania said, wincing at the sound.

"Dude, I know. I'll be in here in, like, two seconds! And here's your cell phone, in case you can get your fingers to work that much – but if you ring me at three in the morning, I'll be all, like, Oh my God, who's dead? and probably not at my sweet natured best, so perhaps you should stick with the bell, or just yell, seeing as I'm totally next door anyway, and – "

"Thank you," Lithuania said, touched by the obvious concern and amused by the spate of words. "You're very good."

"Not a prob," Poland said airily and, with an oddly practiced nonchalance, bent over to kiss Lithuania's forehead. "Night, Liet."

"Goodnight."

 

* * *

 

He woke as the door was pushed open, and struggled up against the pillows as Poland shuffled in, still in his pyjamas, carrying a large tray.

"Knock, knock," Poland said. "Room service – here's your breakfast in bed." He waited till Lithuania was properly sitting up and put the tray on his knees. Lithuania looked over the plates of bread, meat, boiled eggs, and cheese, the bowl of sliced apples sprinkled with enough sugar to make sure they could no longer be considered the healthy option and the large pot of tea with two mugs.

"That's quite some breakfast," he said.

"It's also my breakfast in bed," Poland said, hopping under the covers. "Nice and cozy, just like old times, huh?" He buttered some bread and cut it into bites, covering each piece with a bit of meat or cheese. He picked one up and held it out. "Open up, here comes the train into the station –"

"Come on, you don't have to literally feed me."

"I could let you try with your fingers out of order, and watch you snuffle food up like a pony after sugar cubes, but that'd be kinda gross. C'mon, open wide."

Lithuania gave in and let himself be fed a few bites. At least he could awkwardly manage the mug of tea, just as he had the previous night. It soon became a sort of silly fun, him demanding what should be put on his bread and Poland making tiny, careful titbits. He looked at the remnants of the food in alarm after some time.

"Did we really eat all that?"

"We're growing boys, dude," Poland said. "We need sustenance." He climbed out of bed and moved the tray onto the chest of drawers, then slid under the covers again. "Let's have a nap and sleep it off."

"Shouldn't we get up and face the day?" Lithuania said, trying to remember if his boss had wanted to see him.

"Just a little nap," Poland mumbled, already half-asleep.

Lithuania shook his head, amused at Poland's ability to will himself to sleep, and the all-too familiar way in which he was hogging the pillows. He slid one of them free and lay down. Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt.

By the time they woke up, they were, of course, horribly late. It wasn't so bad for Poland, as his boss was by now resigned to not seeing him early except in national emergencies, and he spent quite a few of his precious clothes-choosing minutes helping Lithuania look respectable. There was no time to bother about little things like taking transport to where they wanted to go, so Lithuania hurried out of Poland's house and through the garden to the fence that divided their territories, and accepted help in climbing over.

"You're going to be OK?" Poland said, looking at his hands.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Lithuania said.

"See you later!" Poland grinned and was gone.

Lithuania hurried through his own garden and out the gate, right into the heart of Vilnius. His day was busy and irritating thereafter, with his boss casting worried, querying glances at his taped-up fingers and the newscaster on the radio saying that a major trade deal with Belarusian companies had broken down.

"Tell me about it," Lithuania muttered, awkwardly trying to scratch his nose. As no one else was around he fished out his phone and, with a bit of effort, managed to dial Belarus' number.

"Hello?" she said, "oh, it's you."

"Hi," he said. "How are you?"

"Working."

"I really enjoyed seeing you last night."

Silence.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner next week?"

"No."

"Maybe we could go to the cinema –"

"No."

" – if there's anything you'd like to see? America always has new films this time of year."

Silence.

"Belarus?"

"What?"

"My hands are all right. I know you didn't mean to hurt –"

"Was there anything else?"

"Just – about those contracts, you're not really pulling your companies out of them, are you? Can we meet to discuss –"

"I suggest," she said firmly, "that you have some of your people talk to my people, and let them deal with it. I have no wish to meet you again; you confuse business and social meetings. Do not call me. Do not write to me. Do not send me presents." She hung up.

"Bye," Lithuania said weakly and put his head on his desk.

"A difficult call?" his boss said behind him.

"My girlfriend," Lithuania said, watching the condensation of his breath on the desk. Great, he thought, he could just feel the curiosity radiating from his boss. Don't ask, he thought, thinking that he never wanted to explain some of the finer points of diplomatic relations to a human ever in his life. "I think we just broke up," he heard himself whimper and winced. He sat up and risked a glance at his boss, and wished he hadn't as the man was clearly wondering how best to phrase a question about his country's love life. "Industry!" Lithuania said desperately. "Let's discuss industry! Or tourism!"

 

* * *

 

"Hi, honey, I'm home!" Poland caroled, and skipped into the sitting room. "My day was hilarious, how was yours?"

"Hilarious," Lithuania said grimly, not taking his eyes off the cartoon he was watching. "People talked behind my back about my hands all day, then my boss asked if I'd ever had sex."

"Your boss came on to you?" Poland said, his eyes going big and wide. "Details, details!"

"No, he just – I was an idiot and rang Belarus and he sort of overheard, and I called her my girlfriend and she doesn't want to see me again, Poland."

Poland didn't look too heartbroken. "Dude," he said, "I think maybe she was trying in her shyly girlish way to give you hints before now." He tried to look contrite as Lithuania glared. "I'm just saying –"

"I'm not going to work tomorrow, I can't face the embarrassment. I got the safe sex talk from my boss. I might just die." Lithuania watched Poland bury his face in his hands and shake with horrified giggles. After a while Poland looked at his outraged expression and howled with laughter. After another while, Lithuania joined in.

"Oh, my God," Poland gasped. "Oh, my God, Liet. You totally need to stay out of the office till there's a change of government. Let's have a look at your hands -" He stopped laughing long enough to get a pair of scissors and to snip the tape on Lithuania's left hand. He gently freed the fingers and poked at them experimentally. "Ew," he said.

Lithuania had to agree, looking at his swollen, bruised fingers. He tried flexing them and winced. "That still hurts," he said.

"Yeah," Poland said. "I'm going to tape that up again. You don't mind me helping you this evening, do you?"

"No," Lithuania said, and was happy to find he meant it.

The next day he spent the whole morning watching talk shows until he decided he really didn't care about the results of lie detector tests to reveal infidelities. People's relationships were so complicated, he thought – they fit more into a short human lifespan than most nations could get through in a millennium. It was too depressing to think about, especially when he imagined himself and Belarus on such a programme. Not that she'd be interested enough to do it, he reminded himself sadly. He took himself off to the bath as distraction, and soaked in the hot water until his skin went strange and wrinkly and the tape on his fingers was easy to awkwardly pick off. He wiggled his fingers in the water and decided he was probably all right, though they were still sore. By the time Poland came home, he had the dinner mostly prepared and was feeling quite accomplished.

"Hands," Poland demanded, giving his fingers a sceptical look. He poked at them rather more than Lithuania thought necessary, especially when he moved the left little finger in a way that made Lithuania draw a sudden, deep breath and bite his lip. "Yeah," Poland said. "That one's, like, still a bit ewww, I'll do it up again."

"It was fine before you grabbed it and started moving it," Lithuania said.

"Uh-huh. Because you'd be totally fine with fingers you couldn't move properly," Poland said heartlessly. He pushed Lithuania down onto a chair and taped up the finger before cheerfully serving the dinner.

It was rather nice to be waited on, Lithuania thought after they'd finished, and it just proved that Poland really could do things like the washing up without dying in a massive sulk. Which wasn't really fair, he thought; they shared that sort of thing far more equally now.

"Ooh," Poland said, looking at the clock. "My show!"

"Just because it's called Poland's got Talent it doesn't mean it's your show," Lithuania grinned.

"It so is, and I so do. C'mon, c'mon!"

Lithuania picked up a couple of bottles of Švyturis, relishing the feeling of being able to bend most of his fingers and followed Poland, gaining at least a third of the sofa. The acts weren't bad, and it was very good to relax and enjoy Poland's outrage when the judges were rude to people he favoured. The trouble, Lithuania decided much, much later, was when the second hour of the show came on, with the acts that had never made it through the auditions. If they hadn't had another couple of beers each, he thought, or if Poland wasn't congenitally unable to sit on a sofa with someone without ending up snuggled against them, or if Lithuania didn't just want someone who wanted him back, or if Poland had ever been any good at hiding his feelings, or didn't look so nice when he laughed – As it was, it was all too easy, when Poland looked at him in the middle of a dance act going catastrophically, hilariously wrong, tears of laughter in his eyes – it was far too easy to put his arms around him and kiss him lightly and softly. He couldn't hear the television at all as Poland drew back, the laughter dying from his face to be replaced with a look of surprise and – he leant back in and kissed Lithuania just as gently.

"Liet –" he whispered, and cupped a hand at the back of Lithuania's head as Lithuania tightened his arms, and then they were kissing like they really meant it. At some point Lithuania vaguely registered they had slid down on the sofa and Poland had climbed – or been dragged – on top of him, and it was hard to miss how turned on they both were. It was only when Poland overbalanced when he tried taking it beyond enthusiastic kissing, and rolled off the sofa with a surprised yelp that Lithuania thought maybe he should be the voice of reason.

"This isn't the best place – " he started.

"So let's go upstairs," Poland said, brushing himself down.

It was so good to be so obviously wanted, and the suggestion was the most sensible thing he'd heard all day, Lithuania thought, who cared about being reasonable in the face of that? Not him, he thought, still kissing Poland as they laughingly half-hurried, half-fell up the stairs, and into Poland's room with Poland's big soft bed.

 

* * *

 

Lithuania opened his eyes and peered at the clock on the bedside table. It wasn't his clock, because his didn't have a picture of a pony on the face. And his pillows weren't so numerous. And Poland had his head on his shoulder and his arms tight round him, and neither of them was wearing any clothes. The only possible thing to do, Lithuania decided, was to go back to sleep and think about it later. When he woke again it was because Poland was sleepily trying to extract his arm from under him.

"Morning," he said, and kissed Lithuania's lips. "Ow, pins-and-needles!" He cuddled close once more. "Just gotta get used to sleeping with you again," he murmured.

Lithuania bit his lip. This was awkward. "Poland?" he said.

"Mmmm?"

"Last night – last night was really lovely –" he winced at the happy noise Poland made against his skin. " – um, but I think –"

Poland lifted his head and looked at him, the happy smile fading into concern. "What, Liet?"

He looked so worried, and Lithuania found he couldn't bear it. "I think your hair keeps creeping into my nose to try to make me sneeze," he heard himself say.

Poland ineffectually tried to flatten his hair, which was in its usual pre-taming state. He pouted as it fluffed up around his fingers again, a long forgotten, now instantly familiar daily battle. If it wasn't for the modern items in the room, Lithuania thought, they might be waking up in the seventeenth century. There were other things he was remembering too, as he watched Poland give up the fight and lean over him, smiling lazily. Such as Poland's views on the best way to spend a morning after a night of making love.

"Want me to wake you up properly?" Poland purred, and kissed him without waiting for an answer. Lithuania's heart did a treacherous little flip, and he wrapped his arms tight around him.

The real problem was, Lithuania decided at a far later stage, that he perhaps should have had the backbone to get out of Poland's bed at some point during that entire weekend.

 

* * *

 

You cannot do this, Lithuania told himself sternly. You cannot use your friend for sex. Not when he thinks you mean something very different by it. You are a bad, bad person, Lietuva. He sighed, and glared at his reflection. He'd known Poland still had a thing for him, and it wasn't fair to take advantage of that. On the other hand, he thought, it wasn't as if Poland wasn't happy with the current situation, and he'd be very be disappointed if it stopped. Lithuania closed his eyes; he'd never been good at disappointing Poland. An awful lot of their history was built on not wanting to disappoint Poland. Not to mention that two hundred years with Russia made it awfully hard for him not to go along with clearly stated demands and wishes, so he could hardly be blamed for going along with the obvious fact that his best friend was in love with him. God, he thought viciously at his reflection. You're pathetic. His reflection regarded him with the tragically smug air of a man who'd worked out that it was a terrible burden, but he'd just have to endure all the great sex. He buried his face in his hands. Over the last week all Poland's verbs and pronouns had shifted firmly to the plural; it wasn't as if Poland had ever been exactly reticent about deciding what they'd both do, but the current flood of we, we, we, we was making Lithuania feel guilty and more and more worried. Poland always meant well in these things, but Lithuania could remember all too clearly how hard it had been to maintain any kind of separate existence. Poland loved togetherness, and it could be stifling. It wasn't as bad as the claustrophobia of Russia's house, and yet -

"Whoa, what's wrong, Liet?"

Lithuania peered through his fingers at Poland. "My hair looks like it hasn't been presentable since 1499," he said weakly. Luckily, it was exactly the sort of thing Poland felt appropriate to feel horror over, and all further inquiries were of the Can I use my curling irons on it? variety.

"I've invited Hungary over for dinner," Poland said, applying heat protection spray and winding another small section of Lithuania's hair around the curling iron.

"I thought I heard you shrieking excitedly on the phone," Lithuania said. Not that he had been able to make out what Poland had been saying, but the tone and climbing pitch made him think it had probably been what he wished Poland wouldn't call a girl to girl chat about getting back with one's boyfriend.

"Dude, I don't shriek," Poland said affably. "I totally discourse in a rational and sensible manner." He kept moving section by section through Lithuania's hair. "She's going to bring dessert, that apple and pancake thing you like."

"Great," Lithuania said as convincingly as he could. "You're not going to leave me like this, are you?" he said, looking in worry at his reflection which was sporting a fine set of ringlets.

"It's real cute, Liet – but quit worrying and trust me."

Lithuania let him do his worst, and was relieved when the ringlets were brushed out to leave his hair both wavier and shinier than it had been. It looked very much like he remembered wearing it several centuries before, which, he thought, was probably what Poland had been aiming for. He just smiled and said thank you, then ran around at Poland's direction, helping him prepare dinner. He got to chop the onions, because Poland hated the way they made him cry, and the carrots, because Poland claimed they made his fingers orange, and peeled and chopped the potatoes because – well, because Poland was a lazy bastard, he thought. Meanwhile Poland took a piece of already-stuffed pork out of the fridge, put it in the oven and proclaimed his half of the job done. Lithuania rolled his eyes and washed the knives and chopping board and cleaned the kitchen up before wandering out to find Poland tiring himself out by picking out CDs to play.

"All the vegetables are ready to go on," Lithuania said. "Let's watch the news."

"We're going to need to give her something to nibble on when she arrives," Poland said, looking surprised at Lithuania's sloth. "At least put out some paluszki, Liet. Honestly, do I have to think of everything?" he muttered, turning back to the CDs.

Lithuania went back into the kitchen. He could solve his problem by killing Poland he thought, opening packets of paluszki with exaggerated care. God, he was the laziest, bossiest – A hand crept past him and grabbed several sticks.

"Thanks, Liet!" Poland said, his smile wide and sunny. He leant in and kissed Lithuania's nose. "You're the best!"

Lithuania's stomach did the treacherous flip again. Stop that, he told it. He's your friend. This isn't the Golden Age and you can't get that back. He watched his fingers brush crumbs off Poland's face and then linger some moments too long on his cheek, and cursed his various body parts for their disobedience. "We should probably change," he said, to stop from suggesting they just went back to bed.

It was a relief when Hungary finally arrived, even if she did smile a bit too knowingly at them. Poland hugged her tight, then she and Lithuania exchanged somewhat more decorous kisses on the cheek. Poland linked arms with her, pulling her into the sitting room as Lithuania hung up her coat before going to get the chilled wine. They'd obviously been talking about him, he thought, when he rejoined them.

"How are you?" Hungary said.

"I'm doing well – much better as time goes on. A lot of that's thanks to Poland, of course," Lithuania said, meaning it. The nightmares weren't as frequent any more, and he rarely now needed Poland to wake him from horrors and hold him safe. All those years, Lithuania thought, when he'd have been so easy to take advantage of, and it had never so much as crossed Poland's mind, no matter how he felt about Lithuania. "You're a very good friend," he said to Poland, and smiled as he went pink.

"Dude, stop, it's embarrassing."

Lithuania obediently stopped, and went to check on the dinner. Poland was a good friend, he thought, and he did love him. Maybe not quite the way he'd used to, or the way Poland wanted him to, but – He sighed as he put the vegetables into serving dishes; he loved his independence, and he had centuries of experience to prove that if he was with Poland he wasn't all that independent. It as far too easy to fall back into centuries' old patterns; here he was, he told himself, working while Poland sat at ease with their guest. He put the smile back on his face and brought the food through to the dining room.

"You are looking well," Hungary said after dinner, when Poland was – wonder of wonders – dealing with the dessert. "He must be taking good care of you." She looked at him quizzically, adding, "It's not my business, but he's my friend, so – Poland said Belarus gave you your marching orders. You and him – is this a rebound thing?"

Yes, Lithuania thought miserably. "No," he said. "It's not like there was really anything with Belarus to rebound from in the first place. Even I worked that out eventually." No, he thought, that sounds too bitter. You're meant to be happy. "Everything's fine - I mean, Poland's so happy, that's really wonderful and I – I – oh, God, Hungary, I don't know what to do, I just don't want to upset him, but he's just always there, twenty four hours a day if I let him; I can't give my identity up again, I can't."

"Hmm," she said. "You haven't said that to him, I suppose?"

"No! Of course not! Do you think I'm awful? Maybe you don't, I mean, you're hardly running to Vienna begging for the Austro-Hungarian Empire to rise again."

"My people wouldn't like that –" she said.

"No, of course not, and my people –"

" – which is why that's a topic neither Austria nor I discuss when we see each other, and certainly not in bed," she said firmly.

Lithuania stared at her. "Oh," he said. "I, um, hadn't realised – "

"I'm certainly not letting him boss me around, but it doesn't mean we can't see each other. This is the modern world, where our people believe it's possible to keep politics and private lives separate – why shouldn't we take advantage of that? Talk to Poland, sooner rather than later." She patted Lithuania's hand. "I'm sorry about Belarus," she said. "I know you liked her - but you really do need to talk to Poland, you know." She looked up as Poland himself came back with the dessert, a torte made of crepes layered with apples. "We're discussing you," she said, an evil grin on her face.

"All good, I hope," Poland said, brushing his hand across Lithuania's.

"What else?" Lithuania said.

It was late when Hungary left, kissing them both a little tipsily and strolling away down to the bottom of Poland's garden and the way to her own territory. She climbed the fence as easily as if she'd had nothing to drink at all, and was gone from their sight as she cut across Slovakia's garden. Poland leant against Lithuania heavily and buried his face in his shoulder.

"Let's do the washing up tomorrow."

"OK," Lithuania said, and went back into the house. "Poland, have you told everyone we're back together?"

"I haven't, like, gone through the international phone book," Poland grinned. "But I've told a few people, and Hungary's probably told a few people. Why? It's not, like, a secret – is it?" He looked worried all of a sudden. "You don't want people to know?"

"It's not that," Lithuania said, taking his hands. "Poland, it's just that things maybe have gone too fast and we need to think about it." Poland's eyes were wide and worried-looking, and the smile was gone. Oh, God, Lithuania thought. "I'm an independent, sovereign nation and I don't want to revive the Commonwealth," he said in a rush.

Poland let out a breath and his shoulders sagged in relief. "Dude. I thought you were breaking up with me."

"Um," Lithuania said. He wondered if he'd been unclear. "No joint rule," he said. "We must maintain our individual identities as separate states. Independence is really, really important to my people and to me."

"Yeah, not a prob. Liet, really, that's totally OK. I'm not going to pretend I didn't want the Commonwealth back in the past, 'cos I totally did, but it's OK." Poland squeezed his hands. "Is that what you've been weird about?"

"I haven't been weird," Lithuania said, feeling rather that the conversation had taken a turn he hadn't quite noticed.

"Trust me, Liet, you've been weird. Look, we've got very good international relations –" Poland smiled slyly and stepped in against him " – we trade a lot, and a lot of the stuff the Commonwealth was good for we don't need now that we're in the EU. Jeez, it's been ninety years since I brought it up. You said no then, and I'm OK with that."

"You are?" Lithuania took a breath. He wasn't quite sure how to proceed in a universe where it seemed Poland had been respecting his wishes. It made him even more trapped, he thought as Poland's arms went round his waist; everyone would think he was very odd to break up with such a considerate partner. Besides, Poland's smile was making his stomach flip again. "Oh. Well, I think we need some ground rules."

"Ground rules," Poland said, as if he was humouring him. "Like what?"

"Like – it's my turn to call the shots," Lithuania said. "You bossed me round for four hundred years, so now it's my turn."

"I did not!" Poland said, laughing. "Oh my God, when did I ever boss you round?"

"You told me I was your lackey, you made me speak Polish, you laughed at my music, you pretended you couldn't hear me if I spoke Lithuanian, you made me do all the chores and you decided all our foreign policies."

Poland gaped at him. "Some of our foreign policies," he said at last. "And I only laughed at your music because it made me happy."

"And you never did me the courtesy of at least learning to lie with a straight face!"

"Oh, come on, Liet," Poland said in amusement. "How am I supposed to take that list seriously? Don't be silly –"

"No," Lithuania said and set him back a little. "You did those things, and more. So now we need to respect each other's boundaries."

"Liet, you are so right. No crossing any boundaries without the cheerful compliance of everyone involved and lots of foreplay – want to come upstairs and penetrate my border region?"

"I'm serious!" Lithuania suddenly saw a way to reset everything, to go back to the far simpler situation of the previous week. He smiled cheerfully. "If this is going to work we have to maintain our separate political identities, and you have to do all the housework, and use Lithuanian words for things and maybe even speak the language to me now and then. You've got a lot to make up for."

Poland raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well – yeah, OK."

Lithuania looked at him in astonishment. "I really am serious," he said.

"OK. C'mon, Liet, if that'll make you happy, then sure, I'll do it. I don't want the Commonwealth, I want you." Poland put his arms round him again. "Hey, Lietuva, sweetie, let's go to bed," he murmured in Lithuanian. "How's that?"

"Your case endings could use some work," Lithuania said in astonishment, feeling his treacherous insides warm considerably. He'd got his own way, he thought.
It wasn't what he'd been aiming at, but it was what he'd admittedly asked for; he wasn't quite sure what he thought about that, so to give himself time he led Poland upstairs and let himself be thoroughly distracted.

 

* * *

 

It was actually sort of fun, Lithuania thought, to put his feet up and watch Poland dusting and vacuuming. He'd felt guilty at first; he was a guest in Poland's house, and had always done his fair share of the chores. More than a fair share, he thought. When he'd tried to dry the dishes, though, Poland had chased him away and done it himself. It was a game, at least for the moment, Lithuania thought, as Poland pointedly flicked through the TV channels till he found a Lithuanian one.

"Look, Liet, your people have crappy talk shows!"

"Everyone has crappy talk shows," Lithuania said. "And talk shows should have been in the accusative. Which you know, as Polish also has cases."

"Naaah," Poland said. "That's just how Polish words are." With an obnoxious grin he went off to make coffee. He reappeared with cake as well. "Would you like some Šakotis?" he said sweetly, alternating Lithuanian and Polish words.

"Thank you," Lithuania said serenely, and arranged himself so that Poland could cuddle up against him without spilling the coffee. He nibbled the cake and drank the coffee quickly, because he was probably going to need to put the cup down soon – Poland twisted round and kissed him, getting crumbs all over both of them. Lithuania pulled him closer and made sure he couldn't get away, not that he showed any signs of wanting to. You're not taking advantage of him, Lithuania told himself. "You do want me, don't you?" he said.

"Duh," Poland said, unbuckling Lithuania's belt.

Good enough, Lithuania thought, and graciously helped Poland undress him.

By the end of the third week, Poland was starting to backslide. He'd wander round, loudly wondering where the clean cups were, and looked startled at always having to wash them himself. By the end of the fifth week, he was sulkily speaking in Polish and even more sulkily repeating himself in Lithuanian when he got no response.

"This is totally rude, Liet," he said, standing in front of the TV. "Liet? Liet? Oh, all right: Liet, stop looking through me."

Lithuania looked up, now that everyone in the room was speaking Lithuanian. "Oh, there you are," he said, trying not to grin too widely.

"Dude," Poland said, "Even if I did boss you round – which I'm, like, not convinced of – I didn't stare through you at the TV when you spoke to me."

"TV hadn't been invented," Lithuania said. "Maybe if it had –"

Poland sat beside him. "You're being really mean," he said, pouting. He poked Lithuania in the arm. "I never ignored you like that."

Lithuania considered it. "You may be right – but having someone prance around singing, La-la-la, I can't hear you when you talk funny was actually also really rude."

"I never –" Poland started, shocked. He paused. "Did I?"

"La," Lithuania said, "la-la."

"Wow," Poland said, looking vaguely horrified. "That – um. It was a joke?" he finished weakly. He picked at the fringe on the throw on the sofa frowning, then deliberately smiled. "You just can't take a joke," he said more strongly, as if shaking off the brief attack of conscience.

Lithuania raised his eyebrows. "Right. Because it's so hilarious to hear your language referred to as "talking funny". Almost as funny as all those Polack jokes America loves to tell, right?"

"Those aren't funny," Poland said. "I can't, like, believe you brought that up, Liet."

Lithuania shrugged. It felt odd and somehow – itchy – to have caused such an outraged expression on Poland's face. It wasn't as nice a feeling as the little flip-thing his stomach did, but it was deeply satisfying right then, in a way he really didn't want to think about. "How about a game of chess?" he said to change the subject and allow them both to pretend they had each apologized.

"Cool!" Poland said, all sunny smiles again. He set up the board and was cheerfully taking his first move when Lithuania cleared his throat.

"Just one thing – you're not allowed to cheat, and you can only play when it's your turn."

Poland looked at him as if he had stopped speaking a language either of them knew and was attempting to communicate solely through semaphore. "No cheating?" he said blankly. "How am I supposed to win, then?"

"Maybe I'll win," Lithuania laughed. "Maybe you'll win, fair and square."

"Dude," Poland said, as if explaining something to a child, "You're better than me at chess. I need to cheat."

"No cheating," Lithuania said sternly. "It's a Lithuania rule!"

Poland looked at the board in deep concentration, obviously determined not to let this set him back.

Time passed.

"I never liked this game anyway," Poland said grumpily, desperately fending off attacks with a rapidly dwindling supply of pieces.

 

* * *

 

By the end of the second month, Poland didn't want to play any more. He stopped calling things by their Lithuanian names, he bought take-aways rather than cook and then left little notes all over the house detailing how much money he was owed for half the expense, he tried to get into a game of crockery-chicken by just stopping doing any washing up at all. Lithuania brought in some paper plates and disposable cups he'd had hanging round his own kitchen for years. Neither of them took the rubbish out for a fortnight. The carpets looked the worse for wear with crumbs ground into them. Rather than change the sheets, Poland insisted they move to Lithuania's room. Both of them were down to their oldest and least-appealing underwear, and they were both keeping a careful eye on the supply of toilet paper to make sure they got the last few sheets. It was not a pretty sight when Lithuania won that battle.

"That is totally my toilet paper!" Poland shrieked, hammering on the bathroom door. "Bastard!"

Lithuania laughed heartlessly. "Mmmmm, kitten-soft," he called mockingly.

"Argh!"

It sounded like Poland was actually jumping up and down in rage. Lithuania wished he could see, but that would mean opening the door and probably getting into an undignified brawl over the toilet paper. He flushed the toilet, washed his hands with the last of the strawberry-scented liquid soap and emerged.

"All yours," he said cheerfully.

Poland gave him a death glare and stamped down the stairs. There was a moment of silence, then a desolate howl as the true horror finally hit home. "Oh my God! This place is a pig sty!" After another few moments, the sound of the vacuum cleaner started.

Lithuania did a victory dance on the landing and sauntered down to relax on the sofa. As a gesture of being a gracious winner he lifted his feet when Poland asked him nicely. After the carpets had been vacuumed and every shelf dusted, two weeks' worth of paper plates and cups had been put in the rubbish and the rubbish itself taken out of the house, Poland started on what seemed to be a complete disinfection of the kitchen.

"Jeez, I am so getting a dishwasher," he yelled in frustration.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Lithuania called. "Just wash one mug for the moment and make me a coffee."

There was an ominous silence. Lithuania stretched out on the sofa and imagined just what sort of expression had to be on Poland's face. It was, he thought, probably very much like the one he had often worn when Poland had made similar demands on him. This shouldn't feel so enjoyable, he thought guiltily, fighting the urge to run into the kitchen and help out. It really shouldn't – I should go in there and help - There was an audible level of muttering from the kitchen, and then the kettle whistled as the water came to the boil. If I stay on the sofa, Lithuania thought, he won't throw the coffee over me. Just to ensure his safety, he cuddled Poland's favourite cushion against himself, and kept his face very innocent as Poland came in with a tray, carrying two clean china mugs of coffee and the last paper plate with a random assortment of biscuits that neither of them really liked and so hadn't yet eaten.

"Thank you!" Lithuania said, taking his coffee. Poland had always thanked him, after all.

"Liet," Poland said. "I could really do with a hand."

"No problem," Lithuania said. "I'll get right on it in the early twenty-fifth century."

"In four hundred years?" Poland said. " . . . how about now?"

"You have to do what I say," Lithuania said. "I did what you wanted for four hundred years, so –"

"No way! Jeez, Liet! Try doing your own fair share!"

"My words precisely," Lithuania said. "OK, to be fair, you did try every so often, though it always wore off. So I could help out for a few months every fifty years or so?"

Poland gulped his coffee too quickly and burnt his mouth. "Ow! Dammit! Liet – seriously, I'm doing everything."

"And you're doing really well!"

Poland looked down. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked, a lot more quietly than Lithuania had expected. "You're totally enjoying this, Liet – I wasn't like this to you, not ever. And don't give me that bogus Oh, you bossed me round for four hundred years, I made suggestions, I didn't force anything on you. My God, I had freaking Lithuanian bosses for two hundred of those years!"

"They were so Polonized they barely knew who I was," Lithuania sniffed. He made himself look as haughty as possible in case Poland noticed he was feeling defensive; it was important suddenly to argue the point, he thought, no matter how silly it seemed.

"Not true! Not freaking true, Liet! Come on," Poland said, his voice turning wheedling, "what's going on? Just a couple of months ago we were splitting the chores and everything was fine."

"I was doing more than half of the cooking," Lithuania snapped. Poland looked at him blankly. "I was! Cooking and cleaning up, day after day –"

"I thought you liked cooking," Poland said. "I really like your cooking, Liet, you're really good at it –"

"I get enough practice."

" – and, like, be fair, we always do the shopping together, and you pick the things we get, I mean, what do I ever pull off the shelves except for snack foods?" Poland laughed, sounding a little nervous. "I can cook more, if you want, but it'd be nice if you cooked too. I've totally missed that over the last month, coming home and knowing you'd have something yummy ready –"

"You think I've nothing better to do than have your dinner on the table when you get in from work?" Lithuania yelled, surprising them both. He wasn't sure where the anger had come from. "I'm not your fucking wife!"

Poland looked like he'd been hit in the head with a rock. "I never said you were," he started.

"Christ, Poland! This is why us being together doesn't work any more!"

"What?" Poland said in surprise. "All I meant was –"

"You just start acting like you're my lord and master – well, it's not the fucking middle ages, we're not joined by a royal union, we're not the commonwealth and sleeping together doesn't mean you own me!"

"Oh my God!" Poland yelled. "What is with you? Stop rewriting our history! We were good together, we were happy! Your freaking problem is you don't know how to be happy any more, Liet, and don't try to freaking pretend that means I think I should own you! I don't, and I don't want to. How come our history sucks so much but you're still hung up on Russia's weird-ass try at setting you up with his freaking psycho sister? As for sleeping together, maybe you'd have been less freaking uptight this last month if you'd been a little more invested in that beyond lying back and thinking of Vilnius!"

Lithuania rocked back like he'd been hit. He watched the colour drain from Poland's face. Everything seemed unnaturally quiet.

"Liet," Poland said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that – "

"How dare you," Lithuania said. "How dare you?" All the itchy, nasty-pleasurable feelings he'd had about bossing Poland round seemed to gather in him at once, as if they'd been waiting for this chance to turn to rage.

"I didn't mean that!" Poland wailed.

Lithuania found the bubbling, frustrated rage intoxicating. "You should be glad I even look at you, after what you did!"

"C'mon, dude, I apologised, like, a thousand times!"

"Thirty-eight," Lithuania said icily. "Which is nowhere near the number of soldiers you sent into my city." He pulled his arm away as Poland tried to hold on to him. "You, you of all people! The Commonwealth meant more to you than me - you've always wanted to own me! As long as just a little bit of my territory was left with you, you could shrug off the early partitions -"

"No," Poland said, shaking his head, "No, Liet, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry –" He gasped as Lithuania grabbed and shook him, snapping his head back and forth. "Liet, I'll throw up –"

"If it had been Russia!" Lithuania screamed. "I'd have expected that! But you! How long had you been planning that? I trusted you!"

"You ran off!" Poland yelled, fighting free. "You're really good at running off, Liet. Damn right, it's not the middle ages, you had some backbone back then!"

Lithuania hit him.

"You have no idea," he said, forcing himself to look into Poland's horrified face. "You have no idea – " He felt all the anger turn to ice. "You know," he said, "When I was working for him, America made it perfectly clear he found me attractive, and I always pretended I didn't notice. I had someone back in Europe, after all. Then one day I brought him his coffee and he tried to hide the newspaper he was reading. Then he said I'd better know what was going on and gave it to me. I had to read it four times before the words made any sense – how could there be Polish forces in my territory? How could you be bombing me?" He smiled cheerily, to make his next words hurt more. "I called you every name I could think of, in every language I knew; I thought I might just die of anger. America asked if he could do anything to help, so I kissed him. He fucked me right there on his desk, and let me tell you, it turns out that age and experience don't always win out over youth and enthusiasm."

"Liet – " Poland said.

"He's big," Lithuania said, as if commenting on the weather. "It was really, really good." Poland looked sick and old; Lithuania told himself he didn't care. "I should go home," he said. "Thanks for having me."

Poland drew a shuddering breath and something Lithuania hadn't seen for a long time came back into his face as, just for a moment, the lord of eastern Europe looked back at him coldly. "Take your time," he said. "I'm not throwing you out. I'm like, not going back on helping you get back on your feet. You just sit back and relax, Liet, I'll go stay with a friend and you can take advantage of my charity. Like always." He turned his back and walked fast to the door, flinging it open.

Lithuania caught up with him, grabbing his arm. "Fuck your charity! You think you're so –"

"Get your hands off me!" Poland shrieked. "Find someone who gives a crap, Liet! Just leave me alone!" He ran down the path, audibly crying, and vaulted the fence at the end of the garden more neatly than Lithuania would have expected.

"Oh, fine!" Lithuania yelled after him. "Now who's running away? I hope Slovakia and Hungary don't mind being invaded – that's what you do to your friends, isn't it?" As he watched, Poland got all the way across Slovakia's garden and jumped the far fence as Slovakia peered out the kitchen door, clearly surprised by the sudden activity. Hungary's door opened and she came out, looking concerned. Poland flung himself into her arms and, with a glare towards Lithuania, she drew him into her house. Lithuania kicked a flowerpot over and looked around, feeling he was being watched by more people than Slovakia. He looked north and sighed. Latvia had crept as close to the fence between his garden and Lithuania's as he could and was peering at him from a badly concealed position under a rhododendron. Estonia was with him, blatantly observing through binoculars. Looking across the Baltic he could see Sweden and Finland frozen in the act of hanging out sheets to dry, belatedly pretending they hadn't been eavesdropping. Lithuania rolled his eyes and stamped back into the house, bitterly noticing that all the windows were open. Half of Europe must have heard the fight. The house seemed a lot quieter and smaller without Poland, he thought, looking round. He didn't want people claiming he'd left the place in a mess, so he finished the job Poland had started, dusting and vacuuming every room, and washing load after load of laundry. He pointedly didn't look towards Hungary's house when he hung the washing out.

Finally the house was spotless, every surface gleaming and polished, every last speck of dust banished. The rooms smelt of clean air and beeswax, and all the cushions were neatly plumped up. Lithuania changed the bed linens, and looked around Poland's room, at the silly clock on the bedside table, the silly girl's novels Poland pretended he was only reading better to understand his young people and the ridiculous frilled sheets Poland thought looked nice, fresh and crisp, just waiting for someone to slip between them. Everything looked caught in time, waiting for the master of the house to come back and make it live. Lithuania sat in the middle of the floor and wept until his chest ached and he could barely breathe. Then he dragged himself up and, walking as slowly as an old, old man, went to pack.

 

* * *

 

The days dragged into weeks. After a month, he realised Poland wasn't coming back, and so he took his packed suitcase and went home. The house was cold and dark, and it was at least a distraction to try and make it cheerful enough to live in. Latvia and Estonia left carefully neutral messages on his voice mail, hoping everything was all right. It was a real art, Lithuania thought dully, to be able to pinpoint just when he wouldn't be able to talk to them in person. He only bothered ringing them once, getting a reply from neither number. Cursing all friends and family, he threw himself into work. His economists thought the country was doing well, even if it seemed to be running on automatic. It was as much as he could do, so he didn't care. One night he found himself switching to Polish-language TV stations, and feeling lonelier and lonelier, his house shadowed and dull around him. It was worse yet when he was finally unable to delay going to bed any longer, and he lay awake staring up at the dark ceiling, preferring the blank emptiness he tried to bring to his mind to the alternative of replaying the fight, over and over. He had never before had to live in a world where Poland hated him. A thousand years, he thought, longer. He thought of Poland, long before either of them had heard of Christianity, a laughing child running through the fields. Poland, a Christian knight in determinedly shining armour, the hussar's wings rising up behind him. Poland lying wounded on the ground as Russia separated them. Even when Poland had bombed him – Lithuania felt something inside cramp with old anger and hurt – he hadn't thought Poland hated him, but just that he was his usual self, greedy and selfish like a child convinced he owned every shiny bauble he saw. He'd apologised shamefacedly, trying to pin the blame on Russia, and asking Lithuania not to hate him. Lithuania sighed; now all he wanted was for Poland to come back, and not to hate him.

It came to a head a week later when he found himself convinced that Poland's house had been broken into. He ran back late at night, to find everything undisturbed. It was two in the morning before everything had been dusted again, and, too tired to move another step, he just fell asleep in Poland's guest room. It didn't feel much like his room any more, but then neither did the main bedroom in his own house.

He stopped going out any further than the nearest shop to buy bread and milk, and hid himself away, obsessively doing the chores Poland could no longer ask him to do. Both their houses were clean and shining, and no one but him ever got to see them. When the note came about the meeting of the world, Lithuania found himself very reluctant to so much as acknowledge its existence. Finally sense prevailed; if he didn't attend there'd be a fuss and people would make enquiries. It was better simply to go and to leave as soon as possible.

The morning of the meeting was predictable and boring. America and England fought over who should speak first; America won the vote on that overwhelmingly, seeming not to care it was just to shut him up, and he gleefully bounded up to the rostrum. Lithuania had no idea what he spoke on, hearing only cries of outrage and derision from the other nations present. He was far more interested in surreptitiously watching Poland twiddling his thumbs and doodling sketches of ponies on his notepad. Poland didn't look his way once, which was all that Lithuania felt he deserved. As the meeting moved towards breaking for lunch America wandered round, chatting to people. He squeezed Lithuania's shoulder, grinning down at him when he looked up.

"I've got some cool trade deals coming your way," America said, winking. He patted Lithuania's shoulder and moved on.

Attention still focused on Poland, Lithuania caught a cracking sound, and looked down the table in time to see Poland look blankly at the pencil he had just snapped in two. He got up and left the room as the meeting adjourned, before Lithuania could think of how to talk to him unobtrusively.

Lunch was even more predictable and boring than the meeting, with Latvia whimpering on and on about how much help he needed and how much he needed fraternal support. Lithuania tried to filter him out. Estonia could deal with him, he thought. One overly protective big brother was enough at a time.

"Of course we'll help," Estonia said, patting his shoulder. "Right, Lithuania?"

"Yeah," Lithuania said, picking at his food. "Right."

"You won't let anyone try to talk over me this afternoon?"

"No," Estonia said firmly. "Isn't that right, Lithuania?"

"Yeah," Lithuania sighed, staring out the window. The food was tasteless, there was little point in trying to choke down any more.

"I – I don't actually have any money with me," Latvia said, shamefaced. "Maybe if one of you could lend it to me –"

"Don't worry," Estonia said with a little smile as he took out his wallet. "My treat."

"One of these days when you "take people to lunch" you're really going to have to pay, Latvia," Lithuania said, and regretted it immediately as Latvia's face fell in misery and shame. "Wait, I didn't mean you're trying to free load off us – Latvia, please don't cry, I know things are tough for you –" He sighed as Latvia fled to the toilet.

"Nice," Estonia said. "Maybe you could yell at him about embarrassing details of history, too." He sighed and took off his glasses to scrub at his eyes. "Sorry. How are you, Lithuania? Feeling any better?"

"I'm fine," Lithuania said. "See you back at the meeting."

"OK," Estonia said, then, "Are you all right? I'm sorry about Po-"

"I'm fine," Lithuania snapped, and stood up.

" . . . All right. I'll wait for Latvia. See you later."

Lithuania dragged himself back and sat through hours of incomprehensible discussion, voting randomly when prompted to raise his hand, only paying attention when Latvia shiveringly rose to speak. At last the whole maddening, bickering crowd began to disperse. He caught Latvia as he left, pulling him aside, and waiting for a moment of privacy to talk.

"Latvia, wait. I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean it to sound so harsh, I just meant your economy will have to pick up sooner or later, that's all."

"That's not what you meant," Latvia said in a low voice. "I'm the annoying little brother who thinks his big brothers should keep on bailing him out, that's what you meant."

"No," Lithuania said. "Come on, we'll keep on trading, your economy will recover, you'll see." He patted Latvia awkwardly on the shoulder, then pulled him into an even more awkward hug, wishing he could take back what he'd said earlier.

"Oh, God," Latvia said in sudden horror. He pulled back fast, his eyes fixed at a point over Lithuania's shoulder. "Lithuania –"

"Ah, I have found my favourite neighbours!" Russia's voice said. "What a very full meeting it was today!"

Lithuania froze, unable to look away from Latvia's terrified face. The sound of Russia's boots, coming closer and closer, were all he could hear.

"You have lost weight, Lithuania, are you on a diet? Maybe you are as poor as this little waif?" Lithuania closed his eyes in despair as Russia's large hand came down on his shoulder. "It's so rare we get a chance to chat these days. Latvia. Goodbye."

Lithuania heard Latvia's feet step back unsteadily, slow step by slow step, then the sound of fast footfalls as he ran. Run, Lithuania thought, as he'd said for two hundred years. Run, don't look back. I'll be all right, just run. Russia's hand moved to his head, tousling his hair in a parody of affection.

"You are like a picture, so pale, so full of anticipation. Tell me, Lithuania, how is it that you haven't visited me for so long?"

No one stayed quiet when directly addressed; that had long since been beaten into all those who'd been in Russia's household. "I-I've been very busy," Lithuania stammered.

"Tsk. Doing what? Playing house with Poland? Even after he threw you out? Such a lack of self-respect, Lithuania. It's sad to see."

"He didn't – I'm still Poland's guest," Lithuania said. He opened his eyes. It was better to see than just imagine the horror. Russia was bending over a little, smiling into his face, open and friendly, like a bright carpet thrown across thin, treacherous ice. Now a look of deep sadness came into his wide, violet eyes and he straightened up, not taking his hand from Lithuania's shoulder, making Lithuania look up at him. He shook his head sombrely, his face grave and still like one of his own saints'. Lithuania felt his breath come short, it was always difficult to remember just how big Russia was until forced into close proximity with him.

"I think you must be his serf, yes? To crawl back to him at all, Lithuania, and then to stay after such a humiliatingly public fight – ah, you look so worried. I am afraid everyone from the Rhine to the Volga must have heard you! And what I could not make out, Belarus told me – isn't that so, sister?"

"Yes," Belarus said from the edge of the room, and Lithuania felt his face burn in shame.

"How fickle you are," Russia mused. "Only a few months ago you were pestering my poor little sister, and now you do not even notice when she enters the room. Do you know, Lithuania, I think your mind must be disordered – you need someone to take care of you. Come back to Moscow with me. It's where you belong, with me. You'll be happy, you know that. I'll give you everything Poland couldn't; you'll forget him very quickly."

"I-I have so much work," Lithuania whispered, trying not to flinch as Russia's fingers caressed his shoulder. "I have to –"

"Why deny it? You know your place, you know what you should do; what other friends do you have, locking yourself away these last months? Your brothers are tired of you, the rest of the EU barely knows where you are, even Poland finds you boring and ridiculous. Why don't you want to be with the only people who'll still talk to you? Belarus visits my house all the time; you'll like living there again. You have nowhere else - Lithuania, you have never not been mine - "

Lithuania felt himself start to crumble, staring up at Russia's face, no longer kind, just mildly contemptuous and avaricious, the hand on his shoulder gone heavy and hard, the fingers gripping tight. Before he could say so much as a word, the door burst open and Poland came in at a flat sprint, evading Belarus as she tried to get in the way.

"Leave him alone! Leave him alone, get out of his face!"

Russia pulled Lithuania back against him. "You're slow. You've missed out on a lot, Poland –"

Poland grabbed Lithuania's wrist and pulled. "Let! Him! Go!" For a painful moment Lithuania felt himself being pulled in two, then Russia let go, letting him cannonball into Poland. "Don't you ever lay a hand on him again," Poland spat. "Never, or I'll freaking sort you out!" He wrapped his arms round Lithuania. "I've got you," he said quietly.

"Are you sure this is the master you want, Lithuania?" Russia said, as if he was wondering what flavour of soup Lithuania particularly liked. "I thought better of you."

"Don't let go," Lithuania breathed against Poland's shoulder, throwing his arms about him. "Don't let him take me."

"As if," Poland said. "Get lost, you big bully, and take your psycho sister with you!"

"Come along, Belarus," Russia said in heavy contempt. "Lithuania has returned to his natural inclinations and no longer needs the company of a lady." He paused. "Or a man, it would seem."

Lithuania turned his head to watch Russia leave, and met Belarus' eyes. She paused, her face expressionless. For a moment it seemed she would speak, then Russia snapped his fingers loudly.

"Belarus," he said in irritation.

"Yes, brother," she said, and followed him.

Poland let his breath out and Lithuania felt the tension leave him. "Freaks," Poland muttered. "Hey, you OK, Liet?"

"Yes," Lithuania said unhappily. Then, "You came! You came for me!"

Poland seemed taken aback. "Jeez, of course I did! I totally promised, didn't I? That's got nothing to do with how things are with us." He held on a little tighter. "I will never not come for you," he whispered. "Promise."

"Thank you," Lithuania said, suddenly horribly aware that the lessening of tension had left him ready to cry. "I, um, I'm sorry to be a nuisance." He stepped back in embarrassment and squeezed Poland's hand. "Thank you."

"Oh, hey," Poland said. "I'm just sorry I didn't get here faster. Latvia came straight to get me, but it took a minute or two to get him able to speak again."

"Oh," Lithuania said, "I must tell him I'm all right."

"Yeah," Poland said. They both fell silent. "Any time you want to give my hand back, it's cool," Poland said eventually.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean – I just, um. Sorry."

Poland's lips quirked in a tiny smile. "Liet. You're still totally holding my hand." He deliberately turned his hand in Lithuania's and interlaced their fingers. "Hey, looks like it's mutual."

"I'm sorry," Lithuania said, looking down. "I'm sorry for fighting, I'm sorry for hitting you, I'm sorry for everything. Please come home."

"You're inviting me back to my own house?" Poland said, raising his eyebrows. "Nice, Liet – hey, come on, I'm joking." He reached out and took Lithuania's other hand. "What happened? Did you get tired of vacuuming? Or is this a thank-you for scaring Russia off?"

"I don't want you to hate me any more," Lithuania said sadly.

Poland rolled his eyes. "Hate you? Liet, you are such a drama llama. Like I could ever hate you. C'mon, we had a fight, and then I sat on Hungary's sofa and cried over Lifetime movies for weeks while stuffing my face with triple-choc ice cream, but I don't hate you." He looked at Lithuania a little shyly. "Do you hate me?"

"No!"

Poland seemed to be listening to the echoes that made in the room. He squeezed Lithuania's hands, like some sort of gesture before letting go, and Lithuania held on tighter. "How are you?" Poland said, like he really wanted to know.

"I want you to come back," Lithuania said. "I want – " He closed his eyes to try and force the tears away, then looked into Poland's half-worried, half-amused face. "I want you to come home. To me."

"Ah," Poland said, sadly. "It's OK, Liet, really. You don't have to say things you think I, like, want to hear. I promise I don't hate you, OK?"

"Do you not want to come back?" Lithuania said, bereft.

Poland ran a hand up his arm to his neck and pulled him down to rest their foreheads together. "Liet -" he said quietly and stopped. "I'll come back home tonight. But right now, I promised to go to dinner with some people."

"Oh - oh, OK," Lithuania said, disappointed. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Oh, no," Poland said, and pulled him along. "You totally owe me a good meal, Liet!" He wrapped an arm round Lithuania's waist and smiled up at him. "Do you good to see people." He found their coats and buttoned Lithuania's up for him; the days were warm enough, but the nights had a chill to them. It made Lithuania feel like a child.

Lithuania got more and more nervous as they approached the restaurant, unsure how he'd be received. Poland gave his hand a squeeze and propelled him through the door.

"Hey, guys, room for one more?" he sang out.

Lithuania kept a polite smile on his face as everyone looked at him. Great, he thought. Sitting at the table were Hungary, Austria, Italy, Germany, Italy Romano and Spain. It was like couples night at the EU. Lithuania tried to look calm and friendly, just the sort of person anyone would be glad to eat dinner with. Hungary was playing with her knife in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable. Luckily Poland attracted everyone's attention as he stole another chair and silverware from a nearby table and made Italy move up to create room. There was a general shifting all round the table as people negotiated their new dining territories.

"Sorry," Lithuania said, still smiling. "Sorry, excuse me –"

"Now I don't feel so much like a gooseberry," Poland stage-whispered in his ear, making him blush and everyone else look at them more closely.

Lithuania buried his nose in the menu, finally noticing it was an Italian restaurant. At least that would give him a topic of conversation with Italy, he thought as people discussed what they'd order.

"Have you and Poland kissed and made up?" Italy said brightly, pouring wine into Lithuania's glass. "He was very sad when you didn't like him any more."

"Erm," Lithuania said, holding the menu in front of him as a shield and wishing everyone would stop looking at him. He didn't know how to answer that, he thought, then felt Poland squeeze his knee comfortingly. Lithuania wished he knew if it was a simple, I'm here, or a We're together, but Poland was physically affectionate with all his friends and it was difficult to tell.

"Italy!" Germany said, going as red as Lithuania felt his own face was.

"But you're all right now, aren't you?" Italy chirruped happily, his eyes flicking to the placement of Poland's arm and back to Lithuania's face. "Poland has his hand on your knee!"

Hungary looked distinctly amused, Romano and Spain laughed rudely, and Austria and Germany looked rather shocked. Poland just giggled, and squeezed Lithuania's knee lightly.

"Italy! Uh - I can never remember, is carbonara seafood?" Germany said, his face even redder than before.

"Silly!" Italy said, his attention blessedly shifting to his left. "Look, frutti del mare, that's seafood – do you want seafood, Germany? It should be nice and tasty here –"

Lithuania tried to convey his thanks silently, Germany nodding brusquely at him. It was pleasant not to be the centre of attention for a few moments, and to have Romano's scornful laughter directed at Germany rather than him. He took the opportunity to empty his wine glass and fill it to the brim once more.

"Get your hand off my leg, bastard!" Romano snapped, glaring at Spain. "I'm not as much of a wuss as Lithuania!"

"Can't blame me for trying," Spain said peaceably. "I'll have the paella."

"Risotto! It's a risotto! Moron. And you -" Romano said, glaring at his brother, "if you're having anything with sausage in it, it'd better be one of ours. I don't want to see you eating some German sausage in public."

Hungary made a noise that wasn't very ladylike at all as Poland yelped with laughter and clapped a hand over his mouth. Italy looked bewildered as Germany and Austria both went identical shades of scarlet.

"Oh!" Italy said suddenly. "No, don't worry, Romano! I checked the restaurant out, it uses local ingredients only, just like you like! Everyone's happy with that, right? Germany, you don't mind eating Italian sausage, right? Last time I saw you, you said my sausage was really delicious and you could eat it all day, which was very nice of you, and –"

"Italy!" Germany said in horror.

"Shut up, Veneziano!" Romano yelled, shaking off Spain's hand as he tried to calm him down. "My God, everyone just shut up!"

Hungary and Poland caught each other's eye and laughed till they couldn't speak. Lithuania finished off his second glass of wine and was grateful when Spain leaned across Poland to refill his glass.

"What?" Italy said in complete confusion. "I always bring food with me when I visit people. What did I say?"

Lithuania avoided making eye-contact with anyone, and buried his nose in his wine-glass again. Once they had all managed to order without war breaking out, dinner was not as much torture as he had feared; by the time dessert and coffee were served he was rather regretting the amount of wine he'd drunk for courage during the meal. It was better to be quietly drunk than to make a fool of himself, he thought, watching the others chat and laugh. After the meal he found himself banished with Germany, Austria and Spain to collect the coats, while the others formed a tight huddle to mutter amongst themselves.

"I don't even want to know," Austria said, shaking his head.

"Girl talk," Lithuania said unwisely, and flushed as they all looked at him. "That's what Poland would call it," he finished weakly. "You know, analysing what everyone said and how they said it and talking about shoes." They all kept looking at him, as if too polite to tell him to be quiet. He resolved to be as silent as the grave and then, almost immediately, "I have a question," he heard himself say, "how do you have a romantic relationship with someone who used to control you? Not that that's your situation, I mean, you all had empires of one sort or another –"

"Italy!" Germany called. "Come on!" He paused. "That's not an answer to your question," he said. "I am merely attempting to leave with some dignity intact."

"It's –" Austria waved his hands around, like he was conducting a particularly avant-garde piece of music. "I don't think I have any helpful advice."

"Thanks a lot," Spain said as they all looked at him. "Don't ask me; Romano's so terrified I'm going to lay claim to his territories again that he treats even a handshake like some sort of assault and can't say so much as Hello without adding an insult. I haven't even got to hug him since the mid nineteenth century; it's incredibly depressing and I'm sick of putting up with it. Wow," he said, "I must be almost as drunk as you, Lithuania. I didn't actually mean to admit any of that." He carefully laid Romano's coat over the back of a chair. "See you around," he said, and went outside.

"We saw and heard nothing," Germany said.

"No," Austria agreed.

They both glared at Lithuania, who took the hint and nodded obediently and silently. It was a relief when Poland skipped over and pulled on his coat, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, Liet," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Let's go."

"Where's Spain?" Romano said, looking round as the others paired up.

"Let's go!" Lithuania said and tugged Poland outside fast, hearing a more plaintive, "Spain?" from inside the restaurant. He hurried Poland along, cutting in and out of other nations' gardens to get to Poland's house as quickly as possible.

"What's the rush?" Poland panted as they unsteadily evaded Switzerland's guard dogs to climb his fence and land in the middle of one of Austria's rose beds. "Uh-oh, do you think anyone'll notice that?"

"It'll be fine," Lithuania said, shoving a rosebush more or less upright. "I just want to get out of hearing range of Italy's house. I think I may have made Spain break up with Romano," he finished in embarrassment.

Poland looked at him in blank surprise, then began to laugh. "Oh, God. You're, like, the kiss of death to romance, Liet." He linked his arm through Lithuania's and made him walk at a more sedate pace. "I wouldn't worry, Spain's been crazy about Romano for the last five hundred years, why would he change over dinner?" He led the way to the far fence. "Hey, Slovakia! Are you, like, home yet? Just passing through!"

It was a relief to finally get back to Poland's house and sit warm and safe in Poland's kitchen. Lithuania drank the tea put in front of him and wondered how it was possible to feel shy in front of someone he had known for so many hundreds of years. Poland was looking a little shy too as he finally took the mugs away and kissed Lithuania's forehead lightly.

"Hey, Liet," he said. "I'm glad to be home." He stroked Lithuania's hair out of his face. "Would you like me to turn down the bed in your room?"

"I want – I mean, I was hoping I could be in your room," Lithuania said, feeling himself quiver with worry. Please, he thought, I miss you.

Poland kept stroking his hair. "We're both real tired, Liet. You'd be comfier in your room. You have the bathroom first, I have to say my prayers," he said, patting Lithuania's arm and stepping back.

Lithuania came out of the bathroom and peered into Poland's room to find him still on his knees by the bed, his voice a quiet murmur. He beckoned Lithuania over to kneel with him. Lithuania joined in the familiar litany of prayers, jerking his head up every time he felt himself drift into a tipsy doze.

"Go to bed, you lush," Poland said in amusement, and took a break from his prayers to propel him into the guest room, watching him clamber up on the bed and under the duvet. Falling deeper into sleep, Lithuania barely noticed when the door closed softly and he was alone.

 

* * *

 

He woke to blackness and a terrible weight pressing him down, unable to breathe or fight his way free. He felt like he was drowning, or being crushed to death, everything that made him who he was being torn away. All he could hear were his own useless attempts to gasp for air as he suffocated -

"Liet! Liet, it's all right, it's all right, it's me – hey, it's me, it's Poland - "

He opened his eyes, understanding nothing he saw for long, terrifying seconds. Then the careful touch on his face made sense as he finally did wake up to a lit room, and he recognised Poland's worried face.

"Poland -" he whispered, and flung himself up into an embrace. "Poland."

"Yeah," Poland said, putting his arms round him now he was awake. "I've got you, you're safe." He sat on the side of the bed and stroked Lithuania's hair and shoulders, making soothing sounds till he slowly relaxed and was breathing more easily. "Try to sleep," Poland said quietly, trying to lower him back down. "Should I turn the light off?"

"No," Lithuania mumbled against his neck, tightening his hold. "Leave it on. Stay, stay with me." Poland climbed in with him and he burrowed closer, his eyes closed, as if Poland were a warm, living pillow. Poland's familiar scent, and the gentle movements of his fingers on Lithuania's back helped him calm and gradually slip back into sleep.

He woke by himself, warmly tucked in, the pillows arranged around him protectively. He groggily levered himself up to squint at the clock and then fell back down amongst the pillows. He did not want to get up. He drifted in and out of a light doze until sleep held few charms, then pulled himself out of bed to face the day. He rubbed his eyes, trying to will away the headache; the feeling of being hung over was more due to the nightmare than the wine, he knew that from experience. He went into the bathroom, grimacing at the smell of sour sweat on his body. He'd feel better after a shower, he told himself, and stood beneath the hot water, not thinking, not moving, just letting it drum against his head and back till he was awake enough to wash. Finally, clean and dressed, he went downstairs.

Poland was in the kitchen, cooking. He briskly kissed Lithuania's forehead and pushed him down onto a chair. There was a plate full of pastries on the table already, and as Lithuania watched, Poland whisked the next batch out of the oil, setting them aside to dry and cool. Lithuania cautiously poked at the one nearest him on the plate. Poland always felt that the appropriate response to disturbed sleep was a sweet and tasty treat.

"Those ones are already filled," Poland said. "I thought, it's been, like, forever since I made paczki!" He paused, then switched to Lithuanian. "I mean, I thought you might like some doughnuts."

Lithuania smiled wanly up at him. "I've always liked your paczki," he said, and took a bite, the fruit jelly Poland had piped into it squirting warmly into his mouth. "Very good," he said indistinctly. Poland kissed the top of his head and attacked the next batch with fruit jelly and sugar. It was a good thing they didn't have human metabolisms, Lithuania thought, watching Poland inhale the fruits of his labour. He belatedly realised Poland was asking him how he was feeling. "The usual," he said, trying to sound light enough so Poland wouldn't worry too much.

"Plenty of rest," Poland said. "Lucky I told your boss not to bother you for a few days, Liet."

"Oh, dear," Lithuania said. "Maybe I should watch the news – what did he want?"

"Oh, he didn't ring, I, like, rang him. He was all, How did you, like, get this phone? Who are you, young man? and I was like, Dude, please, if we're getting all condescending about age I have you totally beat and for your information I took this phone out of his pocket and he got all cagey and was, like, Whose pocket? and you so have to get a phone that does video calls, Liet, so I can roll my eyes at your boss, and I was, like, The Republic of Lithuania, dude? Perhaps you've like, heard of him?" He raised his eyebrows at Lithuania's expression. "What?"

"You really spoke to my boss like that?" Lithuania said.

"Hey, chill. My case endings were perfect."

"Oh, God," Lithuania said. Poland tugged his hair very gently.

"Silly. You're totally easy to tease, Liet. I didn't ring your boss. No one, like, rang anyone. Come on, out to the garden, doctor's orders." He took Lithuania's hand and pulled him outside while he was still too relieved to say yes or no. "Lounge," Poland ordered, pointing at the sunlounger, which Lithuania saw he had moved to a shady spot under the trees. "Fresh air'll do you good."

Lithuania did as he was told while Poland went back inside, emerging after a while wearing a terrible straw hat and bright green gardening gloves. He deposited a cold drink and a large pair of sunglasses on the ground beside Lithuania, and knelt nearby to weed one of his flowerbeds. Lithuania lay back and listened to him whistling, then sat up, ready to offer to help.

"Nuh-huh," Poland said, wagging a finger more or less in his direction. "Rest, Liet. I can, like, hear your guilty conscience from here, but just rest, OK?"

"OK," Lithuania said, and let himself sink into a doze. When he woke again, the sun had shifted and he was no longer in the shade. Poland was perched on the edge of the sunlounger, fanning himself with the hat.

"Didn't mean to wake you – how's your head?"

"Better," Lithuania said, sitting up. The flowerbeds had all been weeded and watered, and Poland had cut the grass on the lawn, except for a wide semi-circle round the lounger. "Why did you use that?" Lithuania said, looking at the old manual mower, noting how pink-faced and tired Poland looked.

"It's quieter than the hover one, and you were asleep," Poland said. He scooted up closer, putting a hand on Lithuania's face. "Toasty, but not burnt," he smiled. "You looked really cute, asleep out here."

"Poland, I want to be with you, I want us to be a couple," Lithuania said in a rush.

Poland patted his side. "Hey, I told you, you don't have to say stuff you think I want to hear. I don't hate you or anything, I'm still your friend; I don't want you to, like, feel trapped or anyth –" he started, then fell silent as Lithuania kissed him hard. They looked at each other, and Poland took Lithuania's face between his hands to kiss him back, going with him as Lithuania lay back on the sunlounger. "Jesus," he murmured as Lithuania got a hand inside his trousers, "Liet, you don't have to –"

Lithuania kissed him quiet again and kept kissing him, listening to his breathing get quicker and more irregular till at last Poland was lying quiet in his arms, catching his breath, relaxed and comfortable. "You worked really hard today," Lithuania said, "the garden looks lovely."

"Mm," Poland said lazily, "you've been taking good care of the place, but I needed to, like, do things myself." He nuzzled against Lithuania's neck. "So glad to be back," he murmured.

"Let's go out tonight," Lithuania said, thinking hard work should be rewarded. "We could go to dinner, and maybe dancing?"

"Yeah?" Poland said, sounding pleased. "Where? Here or your place?"

"Here," Lithuania said, thinking Poland would like that. "My treat."

"Are you sure you're well enough?" Poland said, propping himself up. "You've, like, got to take care of yourself."

"I'm fine, really. No headache, no sickness – "

Poland grinned. "In that case, what should I wear?"

Lithuania shrugged. "Whatever you want. Something nice."

Poland kissed the tip of his nose and wriggled off the lounger. "I feel all hot and sticky," he said. "I'm totally getting the shower first while you make the reservations." He patted Lithuania's cheek. "Don't stay out too much longer," he said, "it'll get chilly now the sun's going down."

Lithuania watched him go into the house, then stretched and sat up. He didn't feel lonely any more; he knew he could make Poland happy to stay. He picked up the glass by the lounger and Poland's discarded hat, and went into the kitchen to wash his hands. When he'd tidied up the kitchen he rang a restaurant he knew Poland liked, then went upstairs, thinking he should really bring some more clothes from home. He had a few decent things with him, but not a good selection. He looked into Poland's room, and gave a little quiet snort of laughter. A dress was hanging on the wardrobe door, white with a bold pattern of red and green flowers. Forewarned was forearmed, Lithuania thought, resolving to show no surprise whatsoever. He knocked on the bathroom door.

"Poland? The reservation's for eight o'clock."

"Cool! I'll be ready!"

Lithuania busied himself in his own room till he heard Poland yell the bathroom was free, and went to take his own shower.

"I'm calling a taxi!" Poland said through the bathroom door, and ran downstairs.

Lithuania finished in the bathroom and made sure his hair was behaving itself. He used the hairdryer, brushing his drying hair out smoothly, knowing Poland would like him to make an effort. He examined his reflection once he was wearing the best of the clothes he had with him. Not bad, he thought. A bit too work-like, but it couldn't be helped.

"The taxi's here!"

He laughed a little at Poland's eagerness and ran back downstairs, picking up his coat from where Poland had laid it out. The front door was open, showing a quiet residential street in Warsaw. The taxi waited outside, Poland already in the back. Lithuania closed the door and walked sedately to the car, thinking Poland wanted his outfit to be a surprise for when he took his coat off.

The trip to the restaurant was fast. Lithuania frowned a little in puzzlement as he walked through the door with Poland, casting a quick glance at Poland's neat dark grey trousers and the mirror-shine on his plain black shoes. When Poland took his coat off, he was wearing a suit jacket and good quality plain cream shirt. He looked – very conservative, Lithuania thought. Even his hair looked flat and well-behaved.

"Is there something on me?" Poland said, trying to see his own back.

"No, no. You look very nice, that's all," Lithuania said, a little disappointed to see him looking so plain.

Dinner was good – the restaurant had plenty of things they both liked. Poland chose the most Lithuanian things he could find on the menu, badgering Lithuania to taste them.

"Don't you want Polish food?" Lithuania asked.

"This is, like, a Polish take on your food – it's good, Liet, c'mon, have a forkful."

Lithuania did, and it was good, but he felt oddly off-balance, though he couldn't tell why. Poland was – not awkward, not exactly, but somehow careful, as if he had a list in his head he was checking off. Offer a taste of food, check. Listen attentively to boring story from dinner partner, offering brilliant smile at the so-called funny part, check. Light touch to dinner partner's hand, check.

"Ready to dance?" Poland said once they'd reached the night club, tracing his fingers over the back of Lithuania's hand. His smile didn't seem awkward at all, and Lithuania felt his stomach flip again at the intensity of his regard.

The dancing was better, he decided, Poland curled against him, arms about his waist as they moved slowly to the music. Lithuania leant his head against Poland's, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. Both of them missed the formal dances of the past, but the modern style had a lot to be said for it, he thought, sliding a hand under Poland's suit jacket to rest in the small of his back, keeping him close. They were both fully relaxed at last, he thought, his fingers making tiny movements, stroking Poland's back; he smiled at the colours his pale hair went under the muted, shifting lights. None of them really suited Poland, but right then they all looked lovely.

"Liet –" Poland said, looking at him happily, whatever else he'd been about to say lost as Lithuania kissed him. "Dude," Poland said at last, giggling in Lithuania's ear, "You are such a public disgrace."

"Would you prefer to be disgraceful in private?" Lithuania murmured.

"Worst pick up line ever, Liet. Yeah. Let's go!"

They tried to behave themselves in the taxi, clutching each other's hands tight to stop from doing anything more. Poland rocked back and forth on his toes and heels as Lithuania paid the driver, then grabbed his hand to pull him into the house. They didn't make it out of the hallway for a while, wrapped round each other tight.

"Liet," Poland murmured, "Liet, hey, Liet –"

"Yeah?" Lithuania said, still pinning him against the wall. Poland wriggled clear enough to say,

"I want you back, Liet, you know that. Seriously, Liet – is that what you want?"

Lithuania shut him up with another kiss. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah." He felt some hidden tension leave Poland, and took advantage of it to hurry him up the stairs, determined that no one should have the opportunity to claim anyone was lying back and thinking of anywhere.

"Wow," Poland said, some time later, chest heaving as he tried to get his breath back. "Someone's been taking his vitamins."

 

* * *

 

Lithuania woke from a dream that he felt didn't really qualify as a nightmare, for all that Russia was in it, laughing at him. He squinted at the clock, and tried to get back to sleep. When it proved elusive, he decided it wasn't that much earlier than they'd normally get up, and petted Poland's hair till he was half awake and making disgruntled sounds of protest.

"Morning," Lithuania said, kissing him.

"What time is it?" Poland mumbled.

"Seven." Almost, Lithuania thought. In a while. "Hey, wakey-wakey – Poland?" He kissed Poland's shoulder and the back of his neck, nuzzling at his ear. He managed to get Poland awake enough to pay attention and participate, though he could tell he would have to work to keep him awake.

"M'wake," Poland said, and managed to open his eyes, peering back blearily at Lithuania. "'Lo," he said, smiling as Lithuania leaned over him to kiss his mouth. He shifted wearily to make things easier for them both, murmuring " – oh, oh, Liet," as Lithuania entered him. His eyes drifted closed, to open slowly again as Lithuania patted at him. "Still 'wake," he said.

"Good," Lithuania whispered, as Poland proved it by pulling one of his hands down from resting on his chest to his groin to stroke him.

"Liet –" Poland murmured, eyes closed, afterwards. He fumbled to take Lithuania's hand and fell asleep again, the rest of what he was saying gone in meaningless sounds. Lithuania wasn't insulted, finding it easier to get back to sleep himself. When he woke again Poland was sitting up, rubbing his eyes.

"Wasn't it, like, seven o'clock ages ago?" Poland said. "I could've sworn I slept for hours after you got all cuddly."

"It's weird how sleep sort of confuses time," Lithuania said unrepentantly. He reached for Poland again, missing as he swung his legs out from under the duvet.
Poland staggered out of bed and out of the room. Lithuania lay back and listened to the shower running, a comforting sound like rain. It stopped, and a few minutes later Poland stuck his head, damp hair combed flat and obedient, round the door.

"Any requests for breakfast?"

"No," Lithuania said, yawning. "I'll get up, though." By the time he got downstairs almost everything was ready, and he could nibble his bread and meat while watching Poland make a giant pot of coffee. They ate in silence, Poland downing three mugs of coffee in quick succession, then making more.

"I'll tidy up upstairs," he said, going to the sink and rinsing out his mug.

"Do you want a hand?"

"No," Poland said quickly. "It's fine. Have some more coffee."

He went off, leaving Lithuania to enjoy a leisurely second helping of everything. When Poland didn't reappear, Lithuania went looking for him. He heard his voice in his room, and hesitated, thinking he was on the phone. After a few moments, it sounded more like he was talking to himself, and Lithuania smiled. It was a pep talk, he thought, the kind Poland gave himself when there was something fashionable that he was dying to try out and didn't quite have the nerve. Or did have the nerve, but knew he'd look an idiot. Then Lithuania caught his own name, and eavesdropped in earnest.

" - don't be such a freaking moron," Poland muttered. "This is what you want, what you've wanted for two hundred freaking years and you can, like, finally have it. Just give Liet what he wants and you'll both be happy –" His voice died away sadly and Lithuania frowned as the words sounded more choked and miserable. Then, "Oh, for God's sake, Polska," Poland said in angry self-disgust, "suck it up and be a man, they're only clothes."

It was such an unexpected thing for Poland to say that Lithuania went in without even thinking of knocking. Poland looked up at him in wary surprise.

"Talking to yourself?" Lithuania said, smiling, hoping to get a smile in return.

"Bad habit, sorry," Poland said and clammed up.

He had two bin bags on the bed, packed with clothing. Lithuania came over and saw the dress with red and green flowers neatly folded at the top of one. He looked at Poland questioningly.

"Just some old things I'm sending to the charity shop," Poland said, obviously aiming for an airy, casual tone but sounding defensive.

"But this isn't old," Lithuania said, putting a hand on the dress. It was soft and silky, lovely to touch. He imagined Poland in it, how it would have moved on him. "Is it? Look, it still has the price tag on it –"

"It doesn't suit me," Poland said, short and clipped.

"Oh," Lithuania said. "That's a shame, it's really pretty." He tried to get a smile again. "I thought you were going to wear it last night, I saw you had it hanging up."

"Oh. No," Poland said. "I mean, I knew – I just. I just wanted to look at it for a while." He looked down, then away. "I won't be much longer," he said. "Then we can do stuff."

"Poland?"

"And if you wanted to, like, go over to your place and do anything that needs doing there, that's fine. We never finished putting down that insulation."

"Poland?"

"Or we could, I dunno, wash your windows, or –"

Lithuania put his arms round him. "Poland, what's wrong?"

"I'm trying," Poland said, "I am, Liet, I'm just being silly."

Lithuania hugged him. "I don't understand. Look, there's no need to rush round up here, it's only – where's your clock?"

"You don't like my clock," Poland said. "It's in that bag."

Lithuania felt the first premonition of worry. "Why?" he said. And, "What do you mean, I don't like it?"

"You sort of roll your eyes when you look at it," Poland said against him. "You think it's a girly thing – a little-girl thing. It is, so it's going."

"Poland," Lithuania said, "are you getting rid of your pretty things because you think I don't like them?" There was no answer, which was itself an answer. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I want to be what you want," Poland said, very quietly. "You always, like, look a bit freaked out if I wear something girly."

"But you like it, it makes you happy! Why didn't you wear this dress last night? I said you should wear what you wanted, didn't I?"

"But I knew what you, like, really wanted," Poland said. He straightened up and rubbed at one eye. "And I was totally right," he said, sounding more pleased. "You said I looked very nice, and you wanted to dance and you wanted me."

"No, I meant it when I said you could wear what you wanted," Lithuania said, puzzled. "It wasn't a test." He paused at the look on Poland's face. "You think it was."

"I got it right," Poland said. "Didn't I?"

"But – " Lithuania started.

"And you've been totally nice about it," Poland said, switching to Lithuanian and speaking faster and faster, "Like when I slipped up and called the doughnuts paczki, you were cool after I corrected myself, and when you liked how hard I worked on the garden you took me out and –" He squeaked as Lithuania grabbed him and held him tight.

"They weren't tests," Lithuania said in distress. "I wouldn't –"

"But I got them right," Poland said in surprise.

Lithuania squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe they had been tests, he thought. It wasn't as if he hadn't primed the situation previously by issuing orders and demanding Poland obeyed. A clear image of Poland's face the last week before their fight surfaced in his mind, frustrated, unhappy and obedient. It was a familiar expression, he'd worn it often enough when he looked in the mirror, but not in Poland's house. Arguments in the past with Poland were quick burning, quickly past and Poland had never, ever set him mysterious tests he had to work out and get right. It had been Russia who had done that.

"Oh, God," he said. "I'm turning into Russia."

"Huh?" Poland said.

"I don't have the right to tell you what to wear – or to, to allow you to wear your own clothes," Lithuania said in dawning horror. "Or how to talk, or anything – you're not my vassal." He sat down on the bed, looking up at Poland. "You're my friend."

"It's OK," Poland said, looking a little hurt, like he'd hoped for a different description, "they're just things, and you'll help me pick out totally better things, won't you? Stuff you like, so I don't embarrass you."

"You don't embarrass me!"

"Dude," Poland said sadly, "I embarrass you, like, all the time. Sometimes you look at me and cringe."

"Oh my God," Lithuania said, covering his face with his hands.

"I can do better! I totally can, Liet. Come shopping with me later – we could go to Kaunas or Vilnius – or, hey, we could go to Riga! Latvia could do with more tourist spending, right?"

"I don't want to make you into something else," Lithuania said. "Russia did that to me and it hurts, Poland. All the time, Lithuania, your language sounds so provincial, Lithuania, you dress like a peasant, no wonder everyone laughs at you, Lithuania, just do everything I say and you'll feel better. And I did feel better, now and then, and that hurt even more than when he beat me. I'm just doing it to you. He won. He made me into him."

"Dude, no way," Poland said. "You're much prettier." The weak smile dropped away. "Tell me what you want," he said, looking worried, "and I'll give it to you. I will, Liet."

"I don't want to do this to you," Lithuania whispered. "I don't know if I can stop it. This – Poland, I can't, I just can't. I should go home."

Poland looked lost. "Don't," he said. "Don't say come back and then act like you want rid of me. I'm not, like, trying to trap you and stuff, I promise, you don't have to pretend you want me, just stay here, just live in my house a while longer – "

"But you'll hate me, I'll make you hate me," Lithuania said desperately. "I don't want you to hate me – "

"Dude," Poland said, his voice equally as unhappy. "You've got, like, such a short memory – what did I tell you in 1569?"

"You said you were sick of dynastic monarchy and asked if I'd heard of something called a commonwealth," Lithuania said.

"Yeah, other than that – I said it didn't matter what you thought of me, I'd always love you."

"And you said you'd try to be less selfish," Lithuania said, closing his eyes and seeing Poland's face, younger, cheerful. "And you were. The Commonwealth was really nice at the start. Pity we couldn't hold on to it." Poland had always been cheerful, he thought. He'd always stolen all the pillows and hogged the blankets and cheated at chess, too, and never quite understood how infuriating that was. And he'd been fun and loving, and had fought on Lithuania's behalf and by his side for century after century. "Why did you laugh when Russia took me away?" he said, looking up.

"Jeez, I'm useless in serious situations," Poland said. "I laugh at everything – and I wanted to piss you off so you'd fight more to come back and give me a piece of your mind."

"What? That's so typically inconsiderate and hare-brained –"

"You see? You see? It took two hundred years, but it worked!" Poland said, and burst into tears. He sobbed incoherently and flung himself at Lithuania, knocking him back on the bed and clinging on. The first storm of tears passed quickly, and he drew shuddering breaths against Lithuania's throat. "Don't leave, Liet," he said brokenly, "not again, not when I just got you back. Even if you want to date Belarus, that'll be cool, so long as I can see you sometimes -"

Lithuania held on, gasping through tears of his own. He wished he could somehow go back and find some way of keeping their younger selves safe, keeping them together. He wished neither of them had ever had to discover there were worse things than being asked to do an unfair share of household chores or being asked not to cheat in board games. "Don't let me go," he said. "Don't let anyone take me away."

They clung on to each other, tight and desperate until they were breathing more quietly and could cry no more.

"Hey, Liet," Poland said. "I did boss you round. I'm sorry, I'm like way lazy. But I meant it, you've always been the one for me." He stroked Lithuania's face. "I'm sorry about Vilnius," he said very quietly. "I totally freaked when you said you didn't want to restart the Commonwealth; one hundred and twenty five years I kept myself going in Austria's house, telling myself what we'd do when we were both free, and then you said no. When you went off to America's house –" he sighed, his breath warm on Lithuania's cheek. "I just knew you wanted someone younger and prettier and richer, and I thought, If I have his heart he'll have to come back to me."

"Oh, Polska," Lithuania said, and rested his head against Poland. "I just wanted a breathing space. You know what Russia did to me - I just couldn't bear Europe for a while. You shouldn't have done that."

"No," Poland said simply, and hesitantly kissed his face.

"I'm sorry I told you about America like that," Lithuania said. Poland kept kissing the bits of his face easily within reach. "Don't be angry at him, please. I'm sorry I hated you, even for a short time."

"Dude, I was a dickhead," Poland said. He sat up, and tugged Lithuania up beside him, holding his hand. "It's really cool having you here, and you're my best friend and I love you; you don't have to pretend you feel anything more just to keep from being lonely or to have someone to talk to or go to bed with. OK?"

"OK," Lithuania said.

"Anything you want to do is totally fine by me, so long as you're happy."

"You make me happy," Lithuania said, feeling the tears try to start up again. "You don't have to worry about Belarus –"

"We're lucky," Poland said. "Living in Russia's house made everyone a bit crazy, but we got out. She didn't manage that; she doesn't know she doesn't have to be a prisoner any more. You're free. You don't have to live like Russia's in your head. You're the Grand Du – the Lietuvos Respublika and you are nothing like that douchebag."

"You'd love to be a kingdom again, wouldn't you?" Lithuania said, the tiniest of smiles fighting to appear.

"I do like my bosses to dress flashily," Poland said. "Friends?"

"Yeah," Lithuania said, and kissed him. He thought about the way Russia had treated everyone in his house, how Belarus had become thinner and quieter over the years, exhausted from giving in to the endless demands. Russia had really won there, he thought. Russia had wanted, had demanded that they all love him; Belarus had forgotten how to do anything else. He didn't want to do that to Poland. "Please," he said. "I'm not trying to jerk you round while I wait for Belarus. I want you. You. With your pony clock and your pretty things."

"They won't fit you," Poland said, and smiled. "Maybe I'll put them back where they belong. Want to start again? Hi, I'm the Republic of Poland." He solemnly held out his hand.

"Hi, Poland," Lithuania said, shaking hands. "I'm the Republic of Lithuania. Would you go out with me?"

"You move fast, we've only, like, introduced ourselves. I like that in a guy. Tell you what, why don't you live here, and we can go to your house as well, and help each other out? And we can see how things go from there? I mean, I totally want to go out with you, but I'm kind of high maintenance. If I boss you round too much, you should totally let me know."

"Same here," Lithuania said.

They smiled at each other, and Poland said lightly, "I am totally gonna cry again."

"Me too," Lithuania said.

"Let's get out of the house and not embarrass ourselves," Poland said. He pulled Lithuania up and dragged him down the stairs, planning out the rest of their day and the entire next week.

Lithuania thought he'd let him get away with it, just this once.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Notes:

When Poland and Lithuania were a couple: The Union of Krewo and The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth

Poland and Lithuania are split up: The Partitions of Poland

Russia's attempt at matchmaking Lithuania and Belarus:The Lithuanian-Belorusian Soviet Socialist Republic

Poland's first attempt to get back together: Międzymorze

Poland grabs Vilnius: The Polish-Lithuanian War

Poland's Got Talent - the actual name for the Polish version of the show is Mam Talent!, "I've got Talent!"