[FIC FILL: ŠAKOTIS]
Title: Šakotis
Author: carver
Recipient: Kei~ (anonymous)
Characters/Pairings: America and Lithuania; can possibly be interpreted as a pairing?
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for this prompt: Everyone knows about the Lithuania's Outsourcing series already; I'd love to see something with America visiting Liet's house for a change. America/Lithuania fluff would be greatly appreciated, but this doesn't need to be interpreted as a pairing request.
Summary: America and Lithuania do some bonding over their shared culture and...food?
June, 1994
It was, all things considered, a very long day. Not by his standards, exactly, since he’s usually up with the dawn anyway, but to anyone else-yes, it would have been. America had flown in at noon, and much to Liet’s surprise, the only word of his tongue that America had managed to remember and communicate with at all was zagareliai. Which was a nice word, and a great dessert, but in application…
Well. Long day. And now, night.
“Your house’s pretty clean,” America observes as he sits on the edge of the bed. He’s already dressed in his nightclothes, but they’re nothing like they were when Liet was with him-instead of long silk, they’re more… Well, America’s wearing an old band t-shirt and shorts. Things had changed a lot since they last slept together like this.
But not all change is bad. And America was still the America of decades ago, which is what counts.
“I usually clean my house every other day,” Liet says, plainly. “But it doesn’t bother me. I’m kind of used to the work, and it’s better when I can see the results here at my own place.”
“Mm. I might need to invite you back for a while to work on mine. I can’t find my remote anywhere. Haven’t been able to for, uh…” America runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Few months, now.”
Liet honestly cringes at that, but he quickly turns it into a half-smile. “Oh. That’s…pretty bad, yes.”
“Well. You were more of a help back then than I’d like to admit.” He rolls over onto his side and maneuvers a bit to get under the sheets. Liet cuts the light and joins him, and for a while the only sound in the dark is just the two of them, breathing, moving to get comfortable.
It’s nice like this, Liet thinks. He’s seen America since the end of the Depression, of course, but never…never like this, really. They only seemed to meet in boardrooms and battlefields, so they didn’t have as much time to talk. And it was great, them meeting now (mostly) without politics in the way. Politics. War. Russia. Without Russia. And that’s probably the best part of all, he has to admit. If not to anyone else, then just to himself. He’s jarred from his thoughts when America clears his throat.
“I was sort of bummed to find out that I-95 doesn’t go to your house, you know,” America says intently. “I thought I could make this an awesome road trip and show you one of my new bikes, but…well. It’s okay, anyway. Planes are cool, too. Not quite as cool when you aren’t the one flying them, but still cool.” Liet nods, and all he can do is smile. This is probably what he missed most about America, even though he didn’t end up staying all that long those years ago.
What the other nations would scoff at in America, Liet truly likes. Not that it’s hard to like America in some way or another. He doesn’t think it is. Not really. America shifts in bed again and turns on his opposite side, so their foreheads are just inches away.
“I’m glad you came,” Liet says for probably the thousandth time that day. And for the thousandth time America, still not annoyed, laughs a happy laugh, and pulls Liet closer with his right arm.
“This, uh. Is gonna sound pretty weird. But I’m glad I came, because…well, seeing you, of course. But y’know, just seeing you makes me feel kind of warm, right?”
Liet nods, urging him on, and America swallows. “Well, in my chest. You know…we stayed a lot around Chicago when you lived with me. And when I see you, I get this…warmth, you know. In there, in that area. Like I can feel you in me, in my people. Well, your people. I guess we can call it even. Am I freaking you out, here?”
“No,” Liet starts. “No, not…um. I sort of get the same feeling, seeing you. That odd feeling, that-”
“Warm fuzzies?” America chuckles and buries his head in his pillow a little more.
“Ah, yeah. That. Certainly. I think all nations get it sometimes, when they can feel a part of themselves in someone else. Another nation… It makes me wonder if people, you know, get the same thing.”
“Never really thought about it, honestly,” America sighs. “I guess it’s good that they don’t feel a lot of the things we do. But this one…well, this one’s pretty nice. When I’m around you, I can…feel it in me, feel you, and see and smell and take in all of Chicago and all the other cities that a lot of you-your people-live in.” America pauses and pulls Liet closer to his chest. “But, not usually this strong, since we’re pretty close right now. You know.”
It’s true for him, too. The feeling of America is practically radiating throughout him now, and for the first time in a long while, feeling his people in another nation is a pretty good experience. Because, honestly, he misses all those things about America's-and his-cities, too. And not even just the cities; wherever his people went. It didn’t matter, but in bigger areas, at least, he has a lot of memories…he knew when the first sakotis was made in America, for example. He even remembers the stove with the spit and how it had to be brought over, too. The first one, that is. It was just one of many recollections from that time, but it stuck with him.
America stretches, but his arm returns to drape the same spot that it did before, only stronger. “Mm. While I’m here, I wanna eat a lot of good stuff,” he whispers.
“Like zagareliai,” Liet says, chuckling.
“Yeah! I love those. I haven’t had ‘em in a while. And also, that…cake.”
“You really have a sweet tooth. Which kind?”
“The one. The one that’s all…spiny, like a porcupine.”
Liet blinks in surprise. “You…mean sakotis. It’s usually made for special occasions, but…well. I suppose you visiting is enough. We can get one.”
“I’d like that a lot,” America says, sleep pulling at the edges of his words. Liet draws closer still, and feels that warmth again, and…
“Yes. I’d like that a lot, too.”
Notes:
- Šakotis is a traditonal Lithuanian cake usually served at weddings, birthdays, etc. A really, really badass cake.
- Similarly, zagareliai is a type of Lithuanian cookie/pastry, only deep-fried.
- Chicago has the second largest concentration of Lithuanians in the world.
Hope you enjoy, anon!
Author: carver
Recipient: Kei~ (anonymous)
Characters/Pairings: America and Lithuania; can possibly be interpreted as a pairing?
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for this prompt: Everyone knows about the Lithuania's Outsourcing series already; I'd love to see something with America visiting Liet's house for a change. America/Lithuania fluff would be greatly appreciated, but this doesn't need to be interpreted as a pairing request.
Summary: America and Lithuania do some bonding over their shared culture and...food?
June, 1994
It was, all things considered, a very long day. Not by his standards, exactly, since he’s usually up with the dawn anyway, but to anyone else-yes, it would have been. America had flown in at noon, and much to Liet’s surprise, the only word of his tongue that America had managed to remember and communicate with at all was zagareliai. Which was a nice word, and a great dessert, but in application…
Well. Long day. And now, night.
“Your house’s pretty clean,” America observes as he sits on the edge of the bed. He’s already dressed in his nightclothes, but they’re nothing like they were when Liet was with him-instead of long silk, they’re more… Well, America’s wearing an old band t-shirt and shorts. Things had changed a lot since they last slept together like this.
But not all change is bad. And America was still the America of decades ago, which is what counts.
“I usually clean my house every other day,” Liet says, plainly. “But it doesn’t bother me. I’m kind of used to the work, and it’s better when I can see the results here at my own place.”
“Mm. I might need to invite you back for a while to work on mine. I can’t find my remote anywhere. Haven’t been able to for, uh…” America runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Few months, now.”
Liet honestly cringes at that, but he quickly turns it into a half-smile. “Oh. That’s…pretty bad, yes.”
“Well. You were more of a help back then than I’d like to admit.” He rolls over onto his side and maneuvers a bit to get under the sheets. Liet cuts the light and joins him, and for a while the only sound in the dark is just the two of them, breathing, moving to get comfortable.
It’s nice like this, Liet thinks. He’s seen America since the end of the Depression, of course, but never…never like this, really. They only seemed to meet in boardrooms and battlefields, so they didn’t have as much time to talk. And it was great, them meeting now (mostly) without politics in the way. Politics. War. Russia. Without Russia. And that’s probably the best part of all, he has to admit. If not to anyone else, then just to himself. He’s jarred from his thoughts when America clears his throat.
“I was sort of bummed to find out that I-95 doesn’t go to your house, you know,” America says intently. “I thought I could make this an awesome road trip and show you one of my new bikes, but…well. It’s okay, anyway. Planes are cool, too. Not quite as cool when you aren’t the one flying them, but still cool.” Liet nods, and all he can do is smile. This is probably what he missed most about America, even though he didn’t end up staying all that long those years ago.
What the other nations would scoff at in America, Liet truly likes. Not that it’s hard to like America in some way or another. He doesn’t think it is. Not really. America shifts in bed again and turns on his opposite side, so their foreheads are just inches away.
“I’m glad you came,” Liet says for probably the thousandth time that day. And for the thousandth time America, still not annoyed, laughs a happy laugh, and pulls Liet closer with his right arm.
“This, uh. Is gonna sound pretty weird. But I’m glad I came, because…well, seeing you, of course. But y’know, just seeing you makes me feel kind of warm, right?”
Liet nods, urging him on, and America swallows. “Well, in my chest. You know…we stayed a lot around Chicago when you lived with me. And when I see you, I get this…warmth, you know. In there, in that area. Like I can feel you in me, in my people. Well, your people. I guess we can call it even. Am I freaking you out, here?”
“No,” Liet starts. “No, not…um. I sort of get the same feeling, seeing you. That odd feeling, that-”
“Warm fuzzies?” America chuckles and buries his head in his pillow a little more.
“Ah, yeah. That. Certainly. I think all nations get it sometimes, when they can feel a part of themselves in someone else. Another nation… It makes me wonder if people, you know, get the same thing.”
“Never really thought about it, honestly,” America sighs. “I guess it’s good that they don’t feel a lot of the things we do. But this one…well, this one’s pretty nice. When I’m around you, I can…feel it in me, feel you, and see and smell and take in all of Chicago and all the other cities that a lot of you-your people-live in.” America pauses and pulls Liet closer to his chest. “But, not usually this strong, since we’re pretty close right now. You know.”
It’s true for him, too. The feeling of America is practically radiating throughout him now, and for the first time in a long while, feeling his people in another nation is a pretty good experience. Because, honestly, he misses all those things about America's-and his-cities, too. And not even just the cities; wherever his people went. It didn’t matter, but in bigger areas, at least, he has a lot of memories…he knew when the first sakotis was made in America, for example. He even remembers the stove with the spit and how it had to be brought over, too. The first one, that is. It was just one of many recollections from that time, but it stuck with him.
America stretches, but his arm returns to drape the same spot that it did before, only stronger. “Mm. While I’m here, I wanna eat a lot of good stuff,” he whispers.
“Like zagareliai,” Liet says, chuckling.
“Yeah! I love those. I haven’t had ‘em in a while. And also, that…cake.”
“You really have a sweet tooth. Which kind?”
“The one. The one that’s all…spiny, like a porcupine.”
Liet blinks in surprise. “You…mean sakotis. It’s usually made for special occasions, but…well. I suppose you visiting is enough. We can get one.”
“I’d like that a lot,” America says, sleep pulling at the edges of his words. Liet draws closer still, and feels that warmth again, and…
“Yes. I’d like that a lot, too.”
Notes:
- Šakotis is a traditonal Lithuanian cake usually served at weddings, birthdays, etc. A really, really badass cake.
- Similarly, zagareliai is a type of Lithuanian cookie/pastry, only deep-fried.
- Chicago has the second largest concentration of Lithuanians in the world.
Hope you enjoy, anon!