So, here it is! My giftfic! I apologize for it being a day late, but we had a ten hour rehearsal yesterday and I literally just came home and collapsed onto my bed. So, yeah, really sorry about that...
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Sometimes, Lithuania wished that Poland would just be normal for a little while.
It's not that he didn't like Poland. Quite the opposite actually. Poland was his best friend, his confidant in everything (well, most things), and sometimes Lithuania found himself staring off into space imagining that they could be…
Well, he'll get to that later.
But the point was, he liked Poland. He really did. But some things (well, most things) his friend did were sometimes a bit…much for him.
For example, Lithuania liked his sleep. He wasn't one to sleep until noon, no, Russia's house had schooled all that out of him. But, he would always try go to bed at ten, and he always liked to sleep until eight on days when he could (days when they didn't have ridiculously early meetings (days when he wasn't in Germany) for example). But Poland…Poland did not like to sleep. And, when Poland was not asleep, Poland seemed to believe that the whole rest of the world was not asleep either. And "the whole rest of the world" should really just be read as "Lithuania". Who really did not appreciate his cell phone ringing and waking him up at 3:00 in the morning.
Poland would always try to blame it on the time difference.
"Poland," Lithuania would say, his words slurring together, stumbling out of his mouth in a ragged sort of line, leaning on one another for support, "there's only a one hour time difference between Vilnius and Warsaw."
"Don't you mean," Poland would always reply, sounding remarkably awake for someone who had probably not slept in three days, "a twenty three hour time difference?"
"No. That doesn't make sense."
"Your face doesn't make sense."
And, of course, Lithuania, who thought that his face made perfect sense thankyouverymuch, would always be drawn into at least an hour long conversation defending his visage. And after Poland hung up, the concept of sleep was always a foreign thing to him. Sleep? Oh, that thing they do over in America? We don't do that here. Lithuanians are cooler than that, you know.
Lithuania also liked his space. He didn't totally object to touching, no, he never had the infamous freak-outs that Germany suffered from sometimes when Italy pushed his boundaries just a tad too far. But, he wasn't a huggy person, for lack of a better phrase. He wasn't Prussia around cute things, he wasn't Spain around cute things, he definitely wasn't France around cute things. He counted his lucky stars every night that the Bad Touch Trio had never found him particularly desirable. It was no wonder Romano was so irritable all the time- he would be too if he always had to deal with that. But Poland…Poland liked to touch. And Poland liked to believe that the whole rest of the world liked to touch too. And, again, "the whole rest of the world" should just be read as "Lithuania". Who really did not appreciate the public displays of affection.
"Poland," Lithuania would always say, hardly keeping his words from tripping over his suddenly too large and awkward tongue as his friend's arms wrapped around his waist tightly and cut off his air supply, "I would truly appreciate it if you would let me go now."
"You know," Poland would always reply, mischief twinkling menacingly in his eyes, "I don't think I really want to do that."
"I can't breathe."
"You're a nation. You don't need to."
And of course, Lithuania would always protest the illogic of that statement, straining out of his friend's viselike grip as Poland merely cackled evilly. He would never be able to free himself until Poland decided to loosen his grasp. How Poland could overpower him like this and yet could not carry more than one grocery bag at a time was completely beyond Lithuania, but that's how it was.
Another thing; Lithuania liked his money. He wasn't Switzerland, no, that guy was rather insane about his change purse (among other things), and he was definitely looser fisted than that. But, he would always try to keep to his weekly budget and to not spend his money on frivolous things, like movies or clothes. But Poland…Poland did not know the meaning of the word "budget". And Poland liked to believe that the whole rest of the world also did not know what this word meant. And, as usual, "the whole rest of the world" should really just be read as "Lithuania". Who really did not appreciate being dragged out his house by his wrist when he was just minding his own business trying to get his paperwork done.
"Poland," Lithuania would say, his words clipped and annoyed, each coming out faster than the other as he nursed a paper cut on his index finger that had come from being dragged away from his forms too quickly, "can't you ever go shopping with someone else? Hungary, for example. She'd be much more useful."
"But," Poland would always reply, holding a skirt in front of him in consideration, "I like you more than Elizaveta."
Lithuania never knew how to reply to that.
But, as he had mentioned before in this odd inner monologue, it wasn't that Lithuania didn't like Poland. He just liked his sleep and his space and his money and all the other things that Poland snatched away from him as well. But, well, if he had to choose between them all… He wasn't going to lie to you. He'd choose Poland every time.
The days of their Commonwealth had come to a crashing end. It was nothing more than a sweet memory to him now, a hazy quality covering it in his mind, and sometimes making him run to the nearest history book just to make sure that it hadn't been all a dream. But he'd find the reassuring facts every time. He would never read past that. He hated to remember how it had ended.
Russia's house had changed him. Poland had changed as well, since then, having been partitioned and partitioned and partitioned again. But sometimes still, Lithuania found himself staring off into space imagining that they could be more than best friends and more than confidants and more than a former Commonwealth of Two Nations. And he would realize that he would give up all the sleep and all the space and all the money in the world if he could just have that. Just for Poland. Just for Feliks.
So, next time his friend showed up, fired up and ready to shop, the routine would go the same.
"I like you more than Elizaveta."
"I like you too."
You better have liked this CalaveraCandiedSkull! I worked hard on it!
I'd just like to take this chance to thank all my GEMINI and HOLD ONTO MY HAND, and even THE LANGUAGE OF CHRISTMAS reviewers. You guys make my world turn, as I'm sure I've said way too many times now. But yeah, you're awesome.
See ya in two weeks!