Off the Boat (8c/?)
anonymous
November 28 2010, 01:15:56 UTC
He sniffs the air and cranes his neck. "The kitchen smells great. What'd you make?" he asks.
Lithuania abruptly realizes he's been unconsciously shielding the pan of casserole from America's view. He steps back hastily. "I attempted a chicken-broccoli casserole," he says, giving the name of the dish in English. "I've never prepared anything like this before, so I don't know how it turned out. I meant to try it before you came home, but ..."
He trails off before nerves can make him stutter, because America is frowning. Lithuania licks his lips and takes a small step back, putting himself between America and the door to the garden without quite realizing it. He drops his gaze and curses himself inwardly, even though he's not sure what he's done wrong. Maybe America hates casserole. How was I to know!? But it's just like when he first arrived at Russia's house: the only way to learn is by trial and error, and taking his lumps until he gets it right. "I'm sorry," he says on reflex.
"What're you sorry for?" America asks, his tone so honestly confused that Lithuania snaps his gaze back up. America is giving him a perplexed look, brows drawn together and up in apparent worry. "I - you used the cookbooks, even though they're in English! I'm just really surprised! You know a lot more English than you let on, don't you?" His face clears as he says these things, returning slowly to a customary grin. "That's incredible!"
It takes about half of this speech for Lithuania to realize he's being complimented. Flabbergasted, he manages, "W-well, don't praise me until you've tasted it!" Then he laughs out of relieved nerves.
America reaches up into a cabinet and pulls down two plates, apparently oblivious when Lithuania weakly puts up a hand to forestall him (he should be the one serving dinner). "I was expecting you'd made something - I dunno, Lithuanian," America is saying, retrieving a metal spatula and starting to cut apart the casserole. "But now that I'm thinking about it, I probably don't have any of the ingredients." He shovels the food onto one plate, then the other, and takes them both to the table. "Hey, you remember where the cups are? Can you pour me some orange juice? You can drink that or milk or water, that's all I've got - oh, wait, there's the last of the wine!" America puts down the plates and picks up the bottle. "Do you want it?"
Please no, Lithuania thinks, and says, "You should drink it, since France gifted it to you," and he hides his head in the refrigerator while finding the orange juice (which like many things, comes pre-packaged. This particular carton says NO PULP on it).
"Guess so," America says. Lithuania fills two glasses with orange juice because he's curious what it tastes like with no orange pulp in it, and sees America has left the bottle where it is. "Later. It doesn't go with orange juice."
Tonight America sits without hesitation, saving Lithuania the embarrassment of waiting for him, and like the night before America prays for God to bless this food in Jesus' name amen while Lithuania crosses himself. Unlike last night America completely ignores Lithuania's prayer. Once again Lithuania waits patiently for America to take the first bite, apprehension chewing at his stomach.
America beams at him. "This is really good! How'd you know I don't like the chicken skin?"
Lithuania manages to keep his sigh of relief under his breath. He takes a bite off his own plate (as he thought from the recipe, the mayonnaise is a little overwhelming) and thinks maybe America isn't as mysterious as I give him credit for.
"Let's try speaking in English all night tonight," America proposes. "So you can practice."
Lithuania swallows hard, and just like that the discomfort is back, turning his stomach. "All right," he says in English, sharply aware of his accent.
"Just tell me if I'm speaking too fast. I do that a lot," America replies in the same language. "But you're smart. Before you know it you'll be speaking English just as well as Lithuanian!"
What if I don't want to? Lithuania thinks desperately, but he smiles and says, "That is kind of you to say," and wishes fervently and briefly that he was Poland.
author note/thank you/i don't even know/midpoint?
anonymous
November 28 2010, 01:17:04 UTC
So another part that grew out of control. Er. I swear all this 'the same thing over and over emotional porn blaaaaaah' stuff is over. Onwards to resolution! Or something like that.
Thanks for sticking with me! I'm sorry this is so tedious.
Re: author note/thank you/i don't even know/midpoint?
anonymous
November 28 2010, 03:07:56 UTC
Authoranon please marry me, this is so fantastic. At least let me have constant visiting rites to this fic. It's so wonderful. Oh poor Lithuiana (fail!spelling is all the rage), this puts a whole new spin on the outsourcing/clean out the closet comics. On one hand it's like, yay, he gets over everything. On the other hand it's like, well, at least they're able to function when Lith. knows all the 'rules'.
Now I'm off to eat icecream and have a little cry.
Re: author note/thank you/i don't even know/midpoint?
anonymous
November 28 2010, 04:50:14 UTC
authro!annon, thank YOU//I/ don't even know/i certanly HOPE it's not midpoint yet.
I LOVE this. And I'm kind of sad the emotional porn is ending... i like it. You do this so well, and i'm [stalking] enjoying this like you wouldn't believe.
I can't wait to see what happens next, ooh, I want to hug Liet and tell him it'll be ok so much...
(labors dicison- Does Lithuania have something to decide in the next chapter, reCaptcha?)
Re: author note/thank you/i don't even know/midpoint?
anonymous
November 28 2010, 05:35:58 UTC
If this is what "growing out of control" is, then I'm running off with your fanfic shears. Seriously, this is one of the best fills I've read, and the character interactions, even though you're currently working with just two of them, flows so naturally and in-character and feels... well, human.
*holds out plate* Another helping of tedium, please? <3
Lithuania abruptly realizes he's been unconsciously shielding the pan of casserole from America's view. He steps back hastily. "I attempted a chicken-broccoli casserole," he says, giving the name of the dish in English. "I've never prepared anything like this before, so I don't know how it turned out. I meant to try it before you came home, but ..."
He trails off before nerves can make him stutter, because America is frowning. Lithuania licks his lips and takes a small step back, putting himself between America and the door to the garden without quite realizing it. He drops his gaze and curses himself inwardly, even though he's not sure what he's done wrong. Maybe America hates casserole. How was I to know!? But it's just like when he first arrived at Russia's house: the only way to learn is by trial and error, and taking his lumps until he gets it right. "I'm sorry," he says on reflex.
"What're you sorry for?" America asks, his tone so honestly confused that Lithuania snaps his gaze back up. America is giving him a perplexed look, brows drawn together and up in apparent worry. "I - you used the cookbooks, even though they're in English! I'm just really surprised! You know a lot more English than you let on, don't you?" His face clears as he says these things, returning slowly to a customary grin. "That's incredible!"
It takes about half of this speech for Lithuania to realize he's being complimented. Flabbergasted, he manages, "W-well, don't praise me until you've tasted it!" Then he laughs out of relieved nerves.
America reaches up into a cabinet and pulls down two plates, apparently oblivious when Lithuania weakly puts up a hand to forestall him (he should be the one serving dinner). "I was expecting you'd made something - I dunno, Lithuanian," America is saying, retrieving a metal spatula and starting to cut apart the casserole. "But now that I'm thinking about it, I probably don't have any of the ingredients." He shovels the food onto one plate, then the other, and takes them both to the table. "Hey, you remember where the cups are? Can you pour me some orange juice? You can drink that or milk or water, that's all I've got - oh, wait, there's the last of the wine!" America puts down the plates and picks up the bottle. "Do you want it?"
Please no, Lithuania thinks, and says, "You should drink it, since France gifted it to you," and he hides his head in the refrigerator while finding the orange juice (which like many things, comes pre-packaged. This particular carton says NO PULP on it).
"Guess so," America says. Lithuania fills two glasses with orange juice because he's curious what it tastes like with no orange pulp in it, and sees America has left the bottle where it is. "Later. It doesn't go with orange juice."
Tonight America sits without hesitation, saving Lithuania the embarrassment of waiting for him, and like the night before America prays for God to bless this food in Jesus' name amen while Lithuania crosses himself. Unlike last night America completely ignores Lithuania's prayer. Once again Lithuania waits patiently for America to take the first bite, apprehension chewing at his stomach.
America beams at him. "This is really good! How'd you know I don't like the chicken skin?"
Lithuania manages to keep his sigh of relief under his breath. He takes a bite off his own plate (as he thought from the recipe, the mayonnaise is a little overwhelming) and thinks maybe America isn't as mysterious as I give him credit for.
"Let's try speaking in English all night tonight," America proposes. "So you can practice."
Lithuania swallows hard, and just like that the discomfort is back, turning his stomach. "All right," he says in English, sharply aware of his accent.
"Just tell me if I'm speaking too fast. I do that a lot," America replies in the same language. "But you're smart. Before you know it you'll be speaking English just as well as Lithuanian!"
What if I don't want to? Lithuania thinks desperately, but he smiles and says, "That is kind of you to say," and wishes fervently and briefly that he was Poland.
tbc
Reply
Thanks for sticking with me! I'm sorry this is so tedious.
Reply
Don't worry, dear highly-talented author!anon, we love this fill as it is. And thank you for writing this and especially for updating daily.
Reply
Reply
I love all the small details and everything just alsfjkasl;fkj
I'm glad you're writing this, and like above anon said, we love the fill. =D
Reply
Now I'm off to eat icecream and have a little cry.
Reply
I LOVE this. And I'm kind of sad the emotional porn is ending... i like it. You do this so well, and i'm [stalking] enjoying this like you wouldn't believe.
I can't wait to see what happens next, ooh, I want to hug Liet and tell him it'll be ok so much...
(labors dicison- Does Lithuania have something to decide in the next chapter, reCaptcha?)
Reply
Reply
*holds out plate* Another helping of tedium, please? <3
Reply
Leave a comment