Details/Notes: I didn't even mean to write this, I swear, but my brain heard Lithuania and birthday and somehow came up with it behind my back. America/Lithuania remains one of the cutest things ever, though. As always, profile has disclaimer, all reviews appreciated, please check out my other works.

First Snow:

He wakes up to cold fingers and an excited smile. His heart won't stop pounding.

"Lithuania, are you awake?"


He rolls over in bed, not awake enough to recognise the question, or even who's talking to him in the first place. He mumbles again, and his eyes flutter.

He hears chuckling a second later, and then cool fingers are sliding into his hair. His breath catches suddenly in his throat, and then his heart is beating too fast, and his eyes are snapping open to try to focus in the dark room.

He blinks, and looks up to find intense, blue eyes staring down at him.

"Have you seen the snow? Come on!"

"AtsipraĊĦau?" He freezes when he hears his own language on his lips, and swallows shakily, asking properly, "America?"


"Never. Never mind."

"Okay, are you awake now?" America asks, not waiting for an answer as he explains, "Because it's the first snow of the season, and you have to see."

"It's very early," Lithuania points out.

America nods. "I know, but the snow woke me up, and it's beautiful outside."

He takes Lithuania's hand in his own, and Lithuania can feel the iciness of winter there, not quite cold enough to hide the inherent warmth that seems to radiate from America's body, but enough to make him want to pull away.

He knows he shouldn't. He has such snowy winters himself, and he and Poland played together in many of them, but since their separation, snow and ice and winter have meant only one thing to him.

Lithuania squeezes America's hand, and stares down at his lap.

It's impossible to ignore the sharp shine of America's smile, the eager neediness of his body tensed over Lithuania's own.

"Please, Liet?"

His voice is the breaking point, just above a whisper and yet somehow louder than any person, any nation, even, could ever be. Lithuania's voice is resigned as he asks, "May I get my jacket?"

"No need," America says, "Here."

Lithuania gasps quietly as America shuffles him out of bed. He doesn't have time to ask again before a heavy weight is falling onto his shoulders, and he reaches up to grasp the wool jacket without thinking about it.

He finds the sleeves, and sticks his arms through them, murmuring, "Thank you."

"No problem!"

"Do you have my shoes?" Lithuania asks, glancing around as he fumbles with his buttons.

America chuckles again, rough and low, and Lithuania turns to raise an eyebrow at him. America just grins, and wraps his arms low around Lithuania's back, lifting him into his arms.

Lithuania flails a bit, sucking in his breath, and trying to balance himself by gripping America's shoulders. America full on laughs, and asks, "Who needs shoes when you have me?"

He finally balances properly, and smiles despite himself, leaning into America's shoulder. His gaze remains there as America navigates the darkened hallways and stairs without stumbling, finally coming to the front porch.

"Look," he says, letting the door swing open.

Lithuania does as he's told, staring around at the faintly lit lawn. It hasn't been snowing long, and the green of the grass is still visible beneath its blanket of white. He takes this in, feeling America's skin grow colder against his own as they watch winter set in across America's lands.

"It is," he says, blushing as he adds, "Beautiful, I mean."

He doesn't hear if America agrees, and his attention is soon caught by the large, fluffy flakes of snow still falling from the sky. He stares up at them, unable to speak. His fingers dig into the fabric covering America's shoulders, and America sighs heavily, burying his head into Lithuania's hair in response.

He doesn't know how long they stand there, framed in the doorway, but he finds he doesn't care, because it feels like forever.


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