not the same America anymore. 2/?
anonymous
March 16 2010, 23:33:04 UTC
Lithuania felt a chill in the air and shivered. There was something foreboding in that last statement that made him want to back off on his familiarity. He wanted to assure Alfred he still knew his place. Employe and friend- in that order. “Of course, sir.” Alfred looked at him, but didn’t comment. A tense silence rose as Lithuania began placing the noodles and broth into bowls for them. He gave America a larger portion for two reasons: One, he was the one Lithuania was working for and it was only respectful, and two because he needed his strength. They sat down to eat, and Alfred continued with his drink. Lithuania simply drank his glass of water without further comment. “Say something, I hate it when you’re quiet. It reminds me of when you first came here.” Alfred said after a long while of silence and slurped soup. He was referring not to the 1920s when they met for the first time, but to when Lithuania had broken free from Russia in the early 90s. Lithuania had been so pale, and thin- although those things hadn’t been much changed since then- and also very timid and quiet. He had said scarcely a word for the first week or so of his arrival and had only loosened up after America had invited him to dinner and played twister with him for a few hours. America had remembered Lithuania’s first real words to him at that time. “I waited long for this day.” America had been happier then, more carefree and light. He’d actually been extremely rambunctious and bubbly. Lithuania had loved that, and reveled in the warmth it spread to his defrosting heart. Unfortunately the optimism America had had during the depression had not revived itself for the recession. He knew how bad things could get, and he’d seen many wars. “Well, if I may speak of a practical topic...” “Hmm...” “We’re running severely low on groceries. Flour, milk, eggs, cornflakes, fruit, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes... and other things... we need more soap too... and laundry detergent.” Lithuania trailed off, feeling America bristle beside him, “I-I know you don’t have that much money now but-” “I’m doing my best ok?!” Alfred snapped suddenly, hearing not just Lithuania’s voice in his head, but the voices of hundreds of Americans. “I’m sorry,” Lithuania said quickly, “We can just make do for now.” “You think I’m ok with that?! That we’re making do?! I want to be able to buy you all the random cooking shit you want, but we’re in a goddamn depression!” Alfred said angrily, frustrated at himself for letting things get as bad as they had. His mind faltered though as he realized what he’d said. Depression. “I mean, recession.” Lithuania was shaking in his chair, unable to bring another spoonful of soup to his trembling lips. “I don’t need anything fancy... just... food to cook with. Anything... even just potatoes and flour.. we just need some simple supplies...” he whispered, eyes downcast. Old survival instincts kicked in and he took Alfred’s glass back to the fridge to pour him more beer. Like a pacifier to a baby... I’m not in Russia. I’m NOT in Russia. I’m here with Alfred. It’ll be fine. “Well I don’t have the money for fucking potatoes!” “I’m sorry.” Lithuania handed him the drink and sat down again. “Can’t you make something with what we have?” Alfred said after a moment, struggling to bring his temper down. “We don’t have the basics I need. I’m not lying when I say that I need everything I said to make even simple dishes.”
“Of course, sir.”
Alfred looked at him, but didn’t comment. A tense silence rose as Lithuania began placing the noodles and broth into bowls for them. He gave America a larger portion for two reasons: One, he was the one Lithuania was working for and it was only respectful, and two because he needed his strength. They sat down to eat, and Alfred continued with his drink. Lithuania simply drank his glass of water without further comment.
“Say something, I hate it when you’re quiet. It reminds me of when you first came here.” Alfred said after a long while of silence and slurped soup. He was referring not to the 1920s when they met for the first time, but to when Lithuania had broken free from Russia in the early 90s. Lithuania had been so pale, and thin- although those things hadn’t been much changed since then- and also very timid and quiet. He had said scarcely a word for the first week or so of his arrival and had only loosened up after America had invited him to dinner and played twister with him for a few hours. America had remembered Lithuania’s first real words to him at that time. “I waited long for this day.”
America had been happier then, more carefree and light. He’d actually been extremely rambunctious and bubbly. Lithuania had loved that, and reveled in the warmth it spread to his defrosting heart. Unfortunately the optimism America had had during the depression had not revived itself for the recession. He knew how bad things could get, and he’d seen many wars.
“Well, if I may speak of a practical topic...”
“Hmm...”
“We’re running severely low on groceries. Flour, milk, eggs, cornflakes, fruit, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes... and other things... we need more soap too... and laundry detergent.” Lithuania trailed off, feeling America bristle beside him, “I-I know you don’t have that much money now but-”
“I’m doing my best ok?!” Alfred snapped suddenly, hearing not just Lithuania’s voice in his head, but the voices of hundreds of Americans.
“I’m sorry,” Lithuania said quickly, “We can just make do for now.”
“You think I’m ok with that?! That we’re making do?! I want to be able to buy you all the random cooking shit you want, but we’re in a goddamn depression!” Alfred said angrily, frustrated at himself for letting things get as bad as they had. His mind faltered though as he realized what he’d said.
Depression.
“I mean, recession.”
Lithuania was shaking in his chair, unable to bring another spoonful of soup to his trembling lips.
“I don’t need anything fancy... just... food to cook with. Anything... even just potatoes and flour.. we just need some simple supplies...” he whispered, eyes downcast. Old survival instincts kicked in and he took Alfred’s glass back to the fridge to pour him more beer. Like a pacifier to a baby...
I’m not in Russia. I’m NOT in Russia. I’m here with Alfred. It’ll be fine.
“Well I don’t have the money for fucking potatoes!”
“I’m sorry.”
Lithuania handed him the drink and sat down again.
“Can’t you make something with what we have?” Alfred said after a moment, struggling to bring his temper down.
“We don’t have the basics I need. I’m not lying when I say that I need everything I said to make even simple dishes.”
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