Small Hours [5/8]
anonymous
February 15 2009, 06:20:05 UTC
Teasing again, Poland thought. At that moment, he realized just how close they were standing. It would be so easy to move in, to grab that moment, to take that chance. He might not get another, not so soon, not like that one. He decided to take it. “Try harder, hmm?” he said with a smirk, moving closer to trap Estonia against the counter with his body, hands resting on either side of him.
“Poland, what are you-“
Before the nation could get the entire sentence out, Poland kissed him, claiming his lips almost hungrily. Blue-green eyes widened, accompanied by a startled noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak, but he did not pull away and instead rested his shy, trembling hands on Poland’s shoulders, much to his surprise and pleasure. After a moment he broke the kiss lightly, lingering, then smirked and said in a low voice, “Bet you weren’t expecting that.”
“N-no,” Estonia replied. His cheeks were flushed pepper-red and he trembled slightly. “I wasn’t.” Licking his lips, he paused, seeming to consider something for a moment before asking, “Poland, what was that for?” “What was what for?”
“I mean, why did you kiss me?”
Looking up at him, Poland could see he wasn’t just trembling as a result of being startled by the kiss. He really was nervous. Sighing, Poland drew back a bit to give Estonia some space to breathe. As the pale hands dropped, he took them in his own, squeezing gently to reassure him while his mind flew, turning over every possible approach. “Like, didn’t you notice that for the past few days I’ve been flirting with you like crazy?” Poland raised an eyebrow, watching carefully for Estonia’s reaction. Rapid blinking, a baffled expression. Crap, he thought, he really didn’t notice, did he? I really was too subtle.
But much to Poland’s surprise, after he got over his shock, Estonia nodded. “I d-did notice,” he said quietly, “But I thought I was imagining things.” A pause. “You really were f-flirting with me, then?” At that, Poland grinned. Maybe not so subtle after all, he thought. And maybe Estonia wasn’t as naive as he seemed, either. “Really, really.”
“But why?”
“Uh, I like you? Duh.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Slowly, Poland became aware of a whistling sound. In their distraction, they both had completely forgotten about the tea kettle. Releasing the blushing nation’s hands, Poland went to attend to it, and as he did so wondered how long the water had been boiling. Damn that Estonia, for being so nervous and so clueless - and so attractive, too.
“This is all kind of sudden, though, isn’t it?”
“Mm?”
“You never showed any sign of liking me before.”
“Maybe you just, like, didn’t notice before,” Poland replied as he searched about in the cupboards for a mug, deliberately avoiding looking at the other nation. “You take lemon, right?”
“Yes, I do. Thank you.” Pause. “And I find it very hard to believe you really like me at all.”
Small Hours [5.5/8]
anonymous
February 15 2009, 06:21:02 UTC
[The character limit hates me. And apparently LJ counts it differently than Word. Booo.]
Poland schooled his expression as he fetched the lemon juice and went about preparing the tea, though he had a feeling it did not matter, as at that distance Estonia surely couldn’t see him well enough to make out his features. He was watching him, however, and it made Poland’s guts twist. Maybe the whole thing hadn’t been such a good idea. “Why do you say that?”
There was a long pause, then Estonia asked quietly, “You’re dating my brother, aren’t you?”
“What the hell?! No!” Turning to face him, Poland stared, and at the sight of Estonia’s dead-serious expression he burst out laughing, much to the other’s surprise. “Liet? No way! You like, can’t be serious. I ain’t with him. Where’d you get a crazy idea like that?”
The blush had faded a bit from Estonia’s cheeks, but at Poland’s outburst it returned in full force. “I-it’s just, you two act like it, kind of. And I’ve heard things....”
“Trust me. We totally aren’t. I mean, like, if you asked if I love him, that’d be totally different. I do! I really do. Like, more than anyone else in the world. But like, not like that. He’d never want to go with me anyway. I’d drive him crazy in less than a week.” Poland paused, and watched him. Was that a sigh of relief he saw, or was he just imagining things? “Feel better now?”
“Yes. Somewhat,” Estonia replied cautiously, seemingly satisfied.
“Good.” Walking over to him, Poland pressed a kiss to his cheek, then cheerfully handed him the mug. “Now just chillax, and drink your tea. And then go to bed, ‘cause it’s late and if I keep you up, Liet will like, kill me.”
Small Hours 6/?
anonymous
February 15 2009, 06:22:21 UTC
Thin light came in through the window. The moon was waxing, but its beams were weak and though they touched the room, they did little to illuminate it. It didn’t matter. Everything was blurry to him, anyway.
Estonia stared up at the ceiling he couldn’t see and tried to relax beneath the warm quilts. The incident with Poland in the kitchen had done little to aid him in sleeping, though the hot tea had calmed his nerves slightly.
His lips still tingled from Poland’s kiss.
It was strange, he thought as he pressed his fingertips to his mouth. Strange how it felt as if it was new, as if he had never been kissed before, never felt the sensation of lips brushing his own or the tickle of breath over his cheeks. He did know it, but that had been years ago.
Hundreds. He corrected himself. It had been hundreds of years since he had last felt that. So many hundreds since he had last felt the brush over fingertips over his palm, hears whispers by his ear, had known what it was to be nestled next to someone in quiet, comfortable, affectionate silence.
The thoughts stirred dim memories deep inside him. Estonia sighed and in his mind he could see his breath turning to mist in the cool, fresh night air. He recalled hands holding his own, and as he thought of it, he could nearly feel it. They were weather-beaten hands, and rough from work, but they were small, and gentle too. Slender, delicate fingers grazed lovingly over his palm, tracing the lines.
If he wished, he could have easily recalled the face those hands belonged to, but he did not want to draw up that image. It was too painful. Instead, he recalled one hand withdrawing, rising to point to the night sky. There were words, words in a language neither of them spoke any more, but he knew the meaning all the same, remembering it easily. He could never forget.
Look up there! It is like your eyes.
Estonia looked, and in the sky there were blue and green lights dancing among the stars, a sight he had seen many times, but in that moment seemed to see anew. “How do you mean?” he said. He whispered it in the blurry dark, and could nearly see the mist ghosting his lips. Or, perhaps, that was just his imagination. He recalled, once again, the reply.
Your eyes are the same colour as the foxfire, and when you smile, they have stars in them.
They laughed, and when the colours changed, he said, “And now, they are like your eyes, too.” They stared up at the sky together, and after forever that one squeezed his hand, and he looked down at him, and suddenly they were close, so close. He felt lips on his mouth. They were rough, chapped and wind-whipped, but so gentle, so warm. He had known, then, he would want to keep that moment forever.
Small Hours [7/?]
anonymous
February 15 2009, 06:23:06 UTC
His eyes were burning. Estonia drew in a deep breath and carefully wiped them with the cuff of his pyjama sleeve. The cold was gone, the ice and the snow were gone, and the lights were gone, too. He was not in the north watching the aurora with that one, his beloved, by his side. He was in his brother’s guest room, wrapped in crisp white sheets and wool quilts.
Staring up at the blurry ceiling once again, Estonia tried, and failed, to find some logic in his emotions. Why did it hurt so much? It had been hundreds of years since that time, but still, he held on to that memory, though ordinarily he kept it hidden deep, locked away in his heart. Why? There was no good in keeping it. He had met with the one he had once called his beloved just two weeks ago, and though it hurt to see him, as it always did, he knew nothing would be as it was. They were only friends now, and had been that way for so long. Furthermore, the other was attached.
His chest felt so tight. Though he tried to bury his memories, they still surfaced, sometimes at the worst moments. Perhaps, he thought, it is because I haven’t moved on. In truth, for years he had been standing still, clinging to the lingering image of an older time.
Estonia licked his lips and thought of Poland. He began mentally tallying up the pros and cons. It was sudden, it was illogical, it made no sense whatsoever, and he still found himself suspecting something strange about the way Poland had acted toward him. On the other hand, Poland’s words echoed in his head, soft and playful. “Um, I like you? Duh?” Would he lie about that? After considering it, Estonia concluded, no. He would not. Poland was trustworthy and free with his genuine opinion, especially toward those he knew. Not only that, he was kind, even sweet, and more importantly, they knew each other well. And above all else, Poland was an almost entirely different person than that lover from long ago.
Estonia mulled over the thought, staring sightlessly upward.
Small Hours [8/?]
anonymous
February 15 2009, 06:24:02 UTC
The hallway was dark, but there was a dim light visible through the crack beneath the door of the other guest room. Estonia rapped on it and waited. His insides twisted, and when he heard the soft voice inside say “Come in”, he began trembling nervously. Drawing in a deep breath, he counted to ten, then slipped inside.
The only light came from the bedside lamp. Poland stood by the bed, slowly buttoning up his pyjama top, the shadows playing gently over his face. He looked toward Estonia and arched an eyebrow, his expression soft and curious. “What’s up?” he asked. “You like, still can’t sleep, or something?”
“Yes.” When he spoke, his voice wavered. Silently cursing his shyness, Estonia pressed the door shut behind him.
“Me either. Seems Liet’s the only one who can sleep at all tonight. And that’s really weird, ‘cause like, it’s his day tomorrow.”
“Poland...”
“Yeah?” He had been acting as though nothing had happened between them at all, carefully folding the clothes he had been wearing and setting them atop the dresser. Estonia watched him as he moved, and after only a few seconds could barely stand it, but when Poland turned to look at him, his fresh green eyes low-lidded and questioning, something about his expression seemed to be inviting.
Estonia strode across the room, closing the distance between them. Taking Poland’s hands in his own, he squeezed them gently, unsure. He had so many things he wanted to say; he had run over his lines in his head at least ten times, wanting to get them right. But at that moment as he stood there in front of him, looking at him in the dim light and holding his hands in his own, which trembled as if they had their own minds, damn them, Estonia found himself wordless. “I...” His mind was blank. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing.” Cheeks flushing rose, he swallowed harshly, mortified. That wasn’t what you meant to say, damn you, he thought.
But Poland was smiling. Awkward though Estonia was, Poland was smiling. When the kiss came, it was nothing like the startling, unexpected gesture in the kitchen. It was light, it was gentle, and it was warm, almost comforting, reassuring. When Poland’s hands broke from his hold on them and slid to rest at his waist, Estonia didn’t protest, but drew the other closer instead, folding the shorter nation in his arms.
In little time he lost himself in the warmth of the slender figure nestled against him, melting from the sensation of his fingertips slipping through hair the colour of ripe grain, shivering from the brush and press of lips soft as poppy petals. When a content sigh escaped him, Poland took that opportunity to sneak into his mouth, slick and playfully probing, tasting of mint. Estonia offered no resistance then, either, instead returning the gesture, shyly at first, drinking in the taste of him. How long had it been since- he cut the thought off before it was finished, unwilling to think of northern skies and fresh snow, preferring to lose himself in Poland’s sunny fields.
Small Hours [9/10]
anonymous
February 15 2009, 06:25:25 UTC
Eventually they broke for air, lingering, breath mixing together. Estonia’s cheeks were flushed red, but he noticed Poland’s, too, were dusted a light rose-colour, though in his case not likely from shyness, as he looked rather pleased with himself. They watched each other a moment, silent and content. Then, nestling close, Poland began to brush kisses over Estonia’s cheek, his jaw, his throat.
Estonia allowed it, tilting his head back to bare more skin, though he found himself becoming steadily more flustered than he had been, if that was at all possible. Those gestures were something new, entirely unfamiliar, absolutely unlike what he had known so long ago, limited as that love had been to lip-kisses and warm embraces. But, he thought as his eyes drifted shut, Poland’s attentions were far from unwelcome.
The stroke of a slick, mischievous tongue over his throat made his pulse jump and his eyes snap open. A soft gasp escaped him as Poland did it again, and Estonia clung to him, feeling almost dizzy. It seemed Poland took that as an invitation, continuing his assault, clever mouth working while his hands moved from their place at Estonia’s waist up to the collar of his pyjama top. Slowly, steadily, he began slipping the buttons from their holes.
Estonia felt as though he might faint. Poland’s tongue, his hands carefully working, his body pressed against him - all of it made him feel heated, flustered, overwhelmed. It was so good, but it was too much, too quickly. He wasn’t used to this, and it was so long since he had experienced anything at all. In fact, he had expected he would never experience anything again, until Poland had stolen that kiss in the kitchen.
Lithuania’s kitchen.
The thought of Lithuania hit Estonia like a bucket of icewater over the head. Lithuania. His brother.
“Stop!” he gasped, reaching up to grab Poland’s hands, which thankfully had only worked through the top three buttons.
Poland, to his credit, immediately ceased and withdrew. “What’s wrong?” he asked, bright eyes filled with concern, even worry, and- guilt?
Estonia realized, suddenly, what that was. Poland thought he had done something wrong. Oh, he thought, that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Nothing’s wrong,” Estonia whispered, cursing once again his trembling hands and voice. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t worry.” Bringing Poland’s hands to his lips, he kissed them, brushing his lips over the delicate knuckles.
“But why-“
“Not here,” Estonia whispered, pressing one last kiss before he released the hands, letting them drop. “Not now.”
Small Hours [10/10]
anonymous
February 15 2009, 06:26:35 UTC
Looking unsure, Poland rested his hands on Estonia’s shoulders, which seemed to be as safe a place as any in the current situation. Biting his lip, he seemed to consider, and after a moment simply said, “I don’t get it.”
Estonia couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Poland, where are we?”
“Uh... the bedroom?”
“Mmhmm, and where is that?”
“Um...”
Estonia stared at him, waiting for the query to process. When it didn’t, he sighed, and kissed Poland’s forehead. “This room,” he said in a scholarly, matter-of-fact tone, “is located right next to the room where a certain other nation is sleeping. Not only is this nation our gracious host; he also happens to be my older brother.” Pausing for effect, he watched as Poland’s eyes widened slightly. The query went through. The hamster wheel was turning. “Forgive me if I’m not comfortable doing... things... like this, in this situation.”
“No, like, that’s okay. I totally understand.” Poland grinned, shaking his head. “No problem.”
Though Poland smiled, there was some disappointment in his eyes. Pretending he didn’t see it, Estonia drew him close once more and buried his face in the shorter nation’s soft yellow hair. Losing himself in the scent of him, Estonia weighed his options, considered the possibilities, and reached a verdict. After brushing a kiss against the gold strands, he ducked his head a bit to murmur by Poland’s ear, “Come to my house in Tallinn next week, before everyone else starts showing up for the celebration. We can spend more time together then.”
“Alone,” Poland whispered, a hint of a smirk in his voice.
The brush of warm breath over his ear made Estonia shiver. “Yes,” he replied, sighing, content. “Alone.”
Estonia drifted back to his own bedroom. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth was bruised from Poland’s kisses.
He smiled in the dark.
That night, his dreams would be filled with golden fields and laughing eyes the colour of fresh grass.
Re: Small Hours [10/10]
anonymous
February 15 2009, 15:49:15 UTC
Ahaha, your declaration of love is much appreciated. ♥! Don't worry, I am working on part two. I intend to (hopefully) have it done in time for Eesti's independence day! (Estonia certainly is adorable and writing this has made me love him even more. :D )
Re: Small Hours [10/10]
anonymous
February 15 2009, 16:56:01 UTC
oh, Anon.
I would be the first to admit that I can't see Poland thinking of Estonia as anything than a little brother, but this is so amazing that I might just have to reconsider. Thank you♥
(Oh, and Estonia's memories of Finland pretty much made me cry. ;__;)
Anon! This just made my day! You're one of the best anons out there! Aaaaw...poor neglected Estonia...He needs someone to love him xD. BTW, I really like the flashbacks and how you made Estonia sound somewhat naive, but not in entirety 8D. I also like how you managed to keep this rather cracky pairing become pretty canon.
Re: OP, hehe
anonymous
February 15 2009, 21:26:04 UTC
Ahh, your love makes me so happy! I'm so very glad you liked it! And I've started working on Part 2, hopefully it won't take me a long time!
They are quite a cracky pair, but I think (hope?) that I was able to make most people suspend their disbelief. It was hard thinking of someone to match Estonia up with! My thought process was something like this: "I can't put him with Russia, 'cause that squicks me, and I don't want to slash him with his brothers, 'cause they're his brothers, and when I write him with Finland it usually ends up sad and I want this to be a happy story, damn it... Bugger all this, I'll just stick him with Poland." It made sense at the time. 8D
“Poland, what are you-“
Before the nation could get the entire sentence out, Poland kissed him, claiming his lips almost hungrily. Blue-green eyes widened, accompanied by a startled noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak, but he did not pull away and instead rested his shy, trembling hands on Poland’s shoulders, much to his surprise and pleasure. After a moment he broke the kiss lightly, lingering, then smirked and said in a low voice, “Bet you weren’t expecting that.”
“N-no,” Estonia replied. His cheeks were flushed pepper-red and he trembled slightly. “I wasn’t.” Licking his lips, he paused, seeming to consider something for a moment before asking, “Poland, what was that for?”
“What was what for?”
“I mean, why did you kiss me?”
Looking up at him, Poland could see he wasn’t just trembling as a result of being startled by the kiss. He really was nervous. Sighing, Poland drew back a bit to give Estonia some space to breathe. As the pale hands dropped, he took them in his own, squeezing gently to reassure him while his mind flew, turning over every possible approach. “Like, didn’t you notice that for the past few days I’ve been flirting with you like crazy?” Poland raised an eyebrow, watching carefully for Estonia’s reaction. Rapid blinking, a baffled expression. Crap, he thought, he really didn’t notice, did he? I really was too subtle.
But much to Poland’s surprise, after he got over his shock, Estonia nodded. “I d-did notice,” he said quietly, “But I thought I was imagining things.” A pause. “You really were f-flirting with me, then?”
At that, Poland grinned. Maybe not so subtle after all, he thought. And maybe Estonia wasn’t as naive as he seemed, either. “Really, really.”
“But why?”
“Uh, I like you? Duh.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Slowly, Poland became aware of a whistling sound. In their distraction, they both had completely forgotten about the tea kettle. Releasing the blushing nation’s hands, Poland went to attend to it, and as he did so wondered how long the water had been boiling. Damn that Estonia, for being so nervous and so clueless - and so attractive, too.
“This is all kind of sudden, though, isn’t it?”
“Mm?”
“You never showed any sign of liking me before.”
“Maybe you just, like, didn’t notice before,” Poland replied as he searched about in the cupboards for a mug, deliberately avoiding looking at the other nation. “You take lemon, right?”
“Yes, I do. Thank you.” Pause. “And I find it very hard to believe you really like me at all.”
Reply
Poland schooled his expression as he fetched the lemon juice and went about preparing the tea, though he had a feeling it did not matter, as at that distance Estonia surely couldn’t see him well enough to make out his features. He was watching him, however, and it made Poland’s guts twist. Maybe the whole thing hadn’t been such a good idea. “Why do you say that?”
There was a long pause, then Estonia asked quietly, “You’re dating my brother, aren’t you?”
“What the hell?! No!” Turning to face him, Poland stared, and at the sight of Estonia’s dead-serious expression he burst out laughing, much to the other’s surprise. “Liet? No way! You like, can’t be serious. I ain’t with him. Where’d you get a crazy idea like that?”
The blush had faded a bit from Estonia’s cheeks, but at Poland’s outburst it returned in full force. “I-it’s just, you two act like it, kind of. And I’ve heard things....”
“Trust me. We totally aren’t. I mean, like, if you asked if I love him, that’d be totally different. I do! I really do. Like, more than anyone else in the world. But like, not like that. He’d never want to go with me anyway. I’d drive him crazy in less than a week.” Poland paused, and watched him. Was that a sigh of relief he saw, or was he just imagining things? “Feel better now?”
“Yes. Somewhat,” Estonia replied cautiously, seemingly satisfied.
“Good.” Walking over to him, Poland pressed a kiss to his cheek, then cheerfully handed him the mug. “Now just chillax, and drink your tea. And then go to bed, ‘cause it’s late and if I keep you up, Liet will like, kill me.”
“Really?”
“Totally.”
Reply
Estonia stared up at the ceiling he couldn’t see and tried to relax beneath the warm quilts. The incident with Poland in the kitchen had done little to aid him in sleeping, though the hot tea had calmed his nerves slightly.
His lips still tingled from Poland’s kiss.
It was strange, he thought as he pressed his fingertips to his mouth. Strange how it felt as if it was new, as if he had never been kissed before, never felt the sensation of lips brushing his own or the tickle of breath over his cheeks. He did know it, but that had been years ago.
Hundreds. He corrected himself. It had been hundreds of years since he had last felt that. So many hundreds since he had last felt the brush over fingertips over his palm, hears whispers by his ear, had known what it was to be nestled next to someone in quiet, comfortable, affectionate silence.
The thoughts stirred dim memories deep inside him. Estonia sighed and in his mind he could see his breath turning to mist in the cool, fresh night air. He recalled hands holding his own, and as he thought of it, he could nearly feel it. They were weather-beaten hands, and rough from work, but they were small, and gentle too. Slender, delicate fingers grazed lovingly over his palm, tracing the lines.
If he wished, he could have easily recalled the face those hands belonged to, but he did not want to draw up that image. It was too painful. Instead, he recalled one hand withdrawing, rising to point to the night sky. There were words, words in a language neither of them spoke any more, but he knew the meaning all the same, remembering it easily. He could never forget.
Look up there! It is like your eyes.
Estonia looked, and in the sky there were blue and green lights dancing among the stars, a sight he had seen many times, but in that moment seemed to see anew. “How do you mean?” he said. He whispered it in the blurry dark, and could nearly see the mist ghosting his lips. Or, perhaps, that was just his imagination. He recalled, once again, the reply.
Your eyes are the same colour as the foxfire, and when you smile, they have stars in them.
They laughed, and when the colours changed, he said, “And now, they are like your eyes, too.” They stared up at the sky together, and after forever that one squeezed his hand, and he looked down at him, and suddenly they were close, so close. He felt lips on his mouth. They were rough, chapped and wind-whipped, but so gentle, so warm. He had known, then, he would want to keep that moment forever.
Reply
Staring up at the blurry ceiling once again, Estonia tried, and failed, to find some logic in his emotions. Why did it hurt so much? It had been hundreds of years since that time, but still, he held on to that memory, though ordinarily he kept it hidden deep, locked away in his heart. Why? There was no good in keeping it. He had met with the one he had once called his beloved just two weeks ago, and though it hurt to see him, as it always did, he knew nothing would be as it was. They were only friends now, and had been that way for so long. Furthermore, the other was attached.
His chest felt so tight. Though he tried to bury his memories, they still surfaced, sometimes at the worst moments. Perhaps, he thought, it is because I haven’t moved on. In truth, for years he had been standing still, clinging to the lingering image of an older time.
Estonia licked his lips and thought of Poland. He began mentally tallying up the pros and cons. It was sudden, it was illogical, it made no sense whatsoever, and he still found himself suspecting something strange about the way Poland had acted toward him. On the other hand, Poland’s words echoed in his head, soft and playful. “Um, I like you? Duh?” Would he lie about that? After considering it, Estonia concluded, no. He would not. Poland was trustworthy and free with his genuine opinion, especially toward those he knew. Not only that, he was kind, even sweet, and more importantly, they knew each other well. And above all else, Poland was an almost entirely different person than that lover from long ago.
Estonia mulled over the thought, staring sightlessly upward.
His lips still tingled from the kiss.
He made his decision.
Reply
The only light came from the bedside lamp. Poland stood by the bed, slowly buttoning up his pyjama top, the shadows playing gently over his face. He looked toward Estonia and arched an eyebrow, his expression soft and curious. “What’s up?” he asked. “You like, still can’t sleep, or something?”
“Yes.” When he spoke, his voice wavered. Silently cursing his shyness, Estonia pressed the door shut behind him.
“Me either. Seems Liet’s the only one who can sleep at all tonight. And that’s really weird, ‘cause like, it’s his day tomorrow.”
“Poland...”
“Yeah?” He had been acting as though nothing had happened between them at all, carefully folding the clothes he had been wearing and setting them atop the dresser. Estonia watched him as he moved, and after only a few seconds could barely stand it, but when Poland turned to look at him, his fresh green eyes low-lidded and questioning, something about his expression seemed to be inviting.
Estonia strode across the room, closing the distance between them. Taking Poland’s hands in his own, he squeezed them gently, unsure. He had so many things he wanted to say; he had run over his lines in his head at least ten times, wanting to get them right. But at that moment as he stood there in front of him, looking at him in the dim light and holding his hands in his own, which trembled as if they had their own minds, damn them, Estonia found himself wordless. “I...” His mind was blank. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing.” Cheeks flushing rose, he swallowed harshly, mortified. That wasn’t what you meant to say, damn you, he thought.
But Poland was smiling. Awkward though Estonia was, Poland was smiling. When the kiss came, it was nothing like the startling, unexpected gesture in the kitchen. It was light, it was gentle, and it was warm, almost comforting, reassuring. When Poland’s hands broke from his hold on them and slid to rest at his waist, Estonia didn’t protest, but drew the other closer instead, folding the shorter nation in his arms.
In little time he lost himself in the warmth of the slender figure nestled against him, melting from the sensation of his fingertips slipping through hair the colour of ripe grain, shivering from the brush and press of lips soft as poppy petals. When a content sigh escaped him, Poland took that opportunity to sneak into his mouth, slick and playfully probing, tasting of mint. Estonia offered no resistance then, either, instead returning the gesture, shyly at first, drinking in the taste of him. How long had it been since- he cut the thought off before it was finished, unwilling to think of northern skies and fresh snow, preferring to lose himself in Poland’s sunny fields.
Reply
Estonia allowed it, tilting his head back to bare more skin, though he found himself becoming steadily more flustered than he had been, if that was at all possible. Those gestures were something new, entirely unfamiliar, absolutely unlike what he had known so long ago, limited as that love had been to lip-kisses and warm embraces. But, he thought as his eyes drifted shut, Poland’s attentions were far from unwelcome.
The stroke of a slick, mischievous tongue over his throat made his pulse jump and his eyes snap open. A soft gasp escaped him as Poland did it again, and Estonia clung to him, feeling almost dizzy. It seemed Poland took that as an invitation, continuing his assault, clever mouth working while his hands moved from their place at Estonia’s waist up to the collar of his pyjama top. Slowly, steadily, he began slipping the buttons from their holes.
Estonia felt as though he might faint. Poland’s tongue, his hands carefully working, his body pressed against him - all of it made him feel heated, flustered, overwhelmed. It was so good, but it was too much, too quickly. He wasn’t used to this, and it was so long since he had experienced anything at all. In fact, he had expected he would never experience anything again, until Poland had stolen that kiss in the kitchen.
Lithuania’s kitchen.
The thought of Lithuania hit Estonia like a bucket of icewater over the head. Lithuania. His brother.
“Stop!” he gasped, reaching up to grab Poland’s hands, which thankfully had only worked through the top three buttons.
Poland, to his credit, immediately ceased and withdrew. “What’s wrong?” he asked, bright eyes filled with concern, even worry, and- guilt?
Estonia realized, suddenly, what that was. Poland thought he had done something wrong. Oh, he thought, that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Nothing’s wrong,” Estonia whispered, cursing once again his trembling hands and voice. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t worry.” Bringing Poland’s hands to his lips, he kissed them, brushing his lips over the delicate knuckles.
“But why-“
“Not here,” Estonia whispered, pressing one last kiss before he released the hands, letting them drop. “Not now.”
Reply
Looking unsure, Poland rested his hands on Estonia’s shoulders, which seemed to be as safe a place as any in the current situation. Biting his lip, he seemed to consider, and after a moment simply said, “I don’t get it.”
Estonia couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Poland, where are we?”
“Uh... the bedroom?”
“Mmhmm, and where is that?”
“Um...”
Estonia stared at him, waiting for the query to process. When it didn’t, he sighed, and kissed Poland’s forehead. “This room,” he said in a scholarly, matter-of-fact tone, “is located right next to the room where a certain other nation is sleeping. Not only is this nation our gracious host; he also happens to be my older brother.” Pausing for effect, he watched as Poland’s eyes widened slightly. The query went through. The hamster wheel was turning. “Forgive me if I’m not comfortable doing... things... like this, in this situation.”
“No, like, that’s okay. I totally understand.” Poland grinned, shaking his head. “No problem.”
Though Poland smiled, there was some disappointment in his eyes. Pretending he didn’t see it, Estonia drew him close once more and buried his face in the shorter nation’s soft yellow hair. Losing himself in the scent of him, Estonia weighed his options, considered the possibilities, and reached a verdict. After brushing a kiss against the gold strands, he ducked his head a bit to murmur by Poland’s ear, “Come to my house in Tallinn next week, before everyone else starts showing up for the celebration. We can spend more time together then.”
“Alone,” Poland whispered, a hint of a smirk in his voice.
The brush of warm breath over his ear made Estonia shiver. “Yes,” he replied, sighing, content. “Alone.”
Estonia drifted back to his own bedroom. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth was bruised from Poland’s kisses.
He smiled in the dark.
That night, his dreams would be filled with golden fields and laughing eyes the colour of fresh grass.
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*pleading face*
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Sequel would be VERY nice <3333
This is so sweet ;u; Oh Estonia~~~~ why so adorable??
I love you, anon!
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Don't worry, I am working on part two. I intend to (hopefully) have it done in time for Eesti's independence day!
(Estonia certainly is adorable and writing this has made me love him even more. :D )
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I would be the first to admit that I can't see Poland thinking of Estonia as anything than a little brother, but this is so amazing that I might just have to reconsider. Thank you♥
(Oh, and Estonia's memories of Finland pretty much made me cry. ;__;)
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Anon! This just made my day! You're one of the best anons out there! Aaaaw...poor neglected Estonia...He needs someone to love him xD. BTW, I really like the flashbacks and how you made Estonia sound somewhat naive, but not in entirety 8D. I also like how you managed to keep this rather cracky pairing become pretty canon.
*hearts*
coughsequelcough
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And I've started working on Part 2, hopefully it won't take me a long time!
They are quite a cracky pair, but I think (hope?) that I was able to make most people suspend their disbelief. It was hard thinking of someone to match Estonia up with! My thought process was something like this: "I can't put him with Russia, 'cause that squicks me, and I don't want to slash him with his brothers, 'cause they're his brothers, and when I write him with Finland it usually ends up sad and I want this to be a happy story, damn it... Bugger all this, I'll just stick him with Poland."
It made sense at the time. 8D
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I'm totally looking forward to the sequel xDDD
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