Tell Me More, Tell Me More
Tell Me More, Tell Me More - America and Poland, America and Poland's massive hangups, Canada, and Lithuania.
America and Poland go on a--date? ("It wasn't a date!") And it ends in...disaster, or something--neither of them are too sure. It definitely calls for a second opinion.
Genre: Comedy/Romance.
Modern. PG-13.
The first of two fills for the aph_rarexchange!
---
"Oh my God Liet, like, oh my God, oh my God--"
"Poland? --Poland, you--oh, um, please calm down, I--"
"Liet it was like oh my God you don't even know it was so totally--"
"Just…just sit down, here…um, I'm sorry I haven't cleaned yet today, let me just…is that America's jacket?"
"Liet oh my God you have to listen!"
"I'm listening, what happened?"
---
"Canada--" America grabbed his brother by the shoulders and gave him the serious over-the-glasses look; the get ready to do me a solid look. "I need you to kill me, right now."
"I--what?" Canada tugged off his oven mitt and tucked it under his arm. "Um…I'm making pancakes, can it wait?"
"Last meal. Okay. Awesome. But as soon as we're done, okay?" America pushed past him into Canada's house.
"Hey, come in," Canada's eyes followed him, bemused. He knocked the front door shut with his shoulder and followed America into the kitchen.
---
"I'm gonna get nuked!" Poland wailed. He had his knees tucked up to his forehead and his fists tangled in his hair. "Like, oh my God, Liet, I mean, I finally started to get my shit together, and now I'm gonna get--"
"What are--Poland, America isn't going to nuke you. Please just…take a deep breath, okay…?" Lithuania eased down onto the couch next to Poland and put a cautious arm around his shoulders. "Did you two…fight? What--what happened?"
Poland shot him a thin and desperate look. "Well yeah we fought, I mean, I wouldn't be about to go post-apocalyptic if we hadn't fought. And all my bomb shelters are totally commie-era, and there's gonna be zombies and supermutants and a serious fashion crisis and Liet, I don't even know, we were just sitting on America's couch, and then it was like, wham, out of nowhere--"
---
"You kissed Poland?" Canada gaped.
---
"You slapped him?" Lithuania managed.
"I panicked!" Poland cried.
---
"I panicked!" America dropped down at the kitchen table and buried his face in his arms. His voice went muffled. "I mean…you know what Poland's like…"
"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean," Canada went to the stove and recovered his spatula. Butter popped and sizzled on the griddle. "In the context of, um…kissing him out of nowhere? --You really did?"
"I didn't think it was out of nowhere!" America sat up, fumbled off his glasses, and thunked his head down to the table again. "He'd been flirting all night, I thought he…I don't know…"
Canada rubbed his hair out of his face. "Since when are you dating Poland?"
America shoved back from the table. The kitchen chair legs squeaked across the maplewood floor. "I didn't think we were dating!"
---
"I mean, I thought we were dating!" Poland grabbed Lithuania's collar in both hands like he intended to wring the answers out of him.
"Since when?" Lithuania tried to ease himself free.
"Like since forever, you know? Ever since we all got out of Russia's house, and America came around all 'baby you are such hot shit, way to free election your way straight to my heart, now come here and let me see to your international defense needs all night long--'"
"--America said that?" Lithuania got his shirt back, then blinked as Poland crumpled into his lap.
"Well like, words to that effect or whatever? It was more a vibe, you know. All like, come hither and shit. We were having a thing, is what I'm saying."
"But you slapped him when he kissed you," Lithuania tried.
---
Canada shook his head and nudged up his glasses, eyes on the pancake batter. "But--if you didn't think you were dating, why did you kiss him?"
"You know what he's like," America repeated. He'd gone to slouch against the wall next to the stove, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans.
Canada scooped a pancake out of the pan and onto the plate on the sideboard. America tried to steal a scrap off the edge, then jerked his hand back and blew on his fingers. "That's the second time you've said that. I seriously don't know what you mean."
"He's just all…" America gingerly wrung out his fingers, nibbled on the tip of his thumb. "Shiny and…talks fast and smells like cherries and…" His voice dropped, and dropped, until he was mumbling. "Big green eyes, and looks weirdly cute in a skirt, and…and…"
"Oh," Canada smiled. "That's cute. You have a crush."
America's head snapped up. He wiped his hand on his thigh. "I don't have a crush, that's not--"
Canada poured more batter in the griddle and waited.
"…It's not a crush," America finished, weak. He shifted onto his left heel and scratched the back of his calf. Wobbled.
"Why not?" Canada passed America a bowl full of batter. "Can you stir that, please? --He fits your list."
"Oh, sure thing--I have a list?" America grappled with the wooden spoon, his tongue pinned to the side between his teeth.
Canada shrugged and nudged his hair back over his ear. "You know…nice hair, free democracy, hates communism, likes your movies…"
"He does have really nice hair," America mumbled, then "Fuck" as he spattered batter onto his glasses. He wrestled the bowl back onto the sideboard and dragged off his glasses to clean them on the edge of his shirt. "But no, it's not a crush. Like, not a crush crush. He's just--he's Poland, you know?"
"What's wrong with Poland?" Canada mused. "I mean…he's kind of, um, intense sometimes, I guess, but--we're all allies, you know? There's nothing weird about hooking up with one of your allies."
---
"I mean just because we're allies that doesn't mean he can just--I mean like--"
"So…you didn't want him to kiss you," Lithuania ventured. He picked up another bobby pin and thumbed it into Poland's side braid.
Poland sat on the floor between Lithuania's knees, a pillow clutched in against his chest, a big lost look tangled up across his face. "Like, no! I mean--like, totally not, seriously. Ew. Not even. Fat chance. Dream on. Not even in this lifetime."
Lithuania paused, two more pins clamped between his teeth. Ten little bows were arranged in a line at his side. "Buff you faid you were dating."
"Well yeah," Poland wriggled back an inch. Somehow his sandals had ended up halfway across the floor. "I mean, he's so into me, you know? And like…he's kinda hot, in like, that charismatic dumbass kinda way. I can dig it. And his ass, like oh my God, that is an ass made to be ploughed, harrowed, and planted, you know what I'm saying? And maybe left fallow like every two or three times around in order to prevent erosion."
There was a little silence at that. Lithuania finished off one braid, tied it off with a bow, then started another, before he took the pins out of his mouth and managed, "Did you just compare America's ass to the three field system?"
"But that still doesn't mean he can just kiss me!" Poland's fingers cramped white around his pillow.
Lithuania boggled at the back of Poland's head. "But you just said you wanted to…um…do I have to do the crop rotation metaphor, or can we just--"
Poland squinched his feet in closer to his trunk. "Look, that's just like, my professional agricultural opinion, okay. It's not like I want to have sex with America."
Lithuania opened his mouth, then closed it.
"I don't, Liet."
"Um, okay, Poland. If you say so."
"I totally say so, and here's the thing, it's like, we can date or whatever? Because I am such a super awesome diplomat and that's like totally diplomatic of me to let America take me out and shit? But like--kissing me, on the mouth, when we like haven't even talked about our future or gone to see the pope or anything--"
Lithuania squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, then sighed, "Listen, Poland, can you…Take it from the top, okay? Tell me what happened."
---
"America, pass the syrup and just tell me what happened, huh?" Canada put the platter of pancakes between them, and deposited a butter tray beside it. America grabbed his fork and speared off the top of the stack.
---
"So, America invited you over," Lithuania prompted.
---
"So Poland dropped by unannounced." Canada upturned the syrup over the crumpled heap of pancakes remaining on the tray.
"Right," America confirmed, and stuffed a wad of folded-up pancake into his mouth. "And I was like, well, I sort of already had plans--"
"World Series--" Canada supplied.
"World Series, right--"
---
"--And he wanted to take me to a baseball game. Which like, lame as shit, you know, but whatever. Since when am I high maintenance."
Lithuania maintained an eyes-down determined silence.
---
"He really got into it, though," America chirped as he bumped the fridge door shut with his hip, gesturing with a carton of milk. "I had to explain some of the rules to him, but then people started doing the wave, and I bought him a giant foam finger, and that's always a hit, the giant foam finger--"
---
"America is such a dork," Poland confided.
Lithuania smiled. "He really is."
---
America sloshed milk into his glass, put the carton down. "Anyway, we walked back to my place after that, and I figured that once we got to his car he'd head home, you know? But he--oh, sorry dude--" He handed the milk to Canada.
"Thanks. But he asked to come upstairs?"
America paused, ticking at his incisor with one of the tines of his fork. "He didn't ask? But he hung around talking on my porch for, seriously, ten minutes. And it was cold, I mean, this was not 'hey let's chat on the porch all goddamned night' weather, I'd actually already given him my jacket on the walk home…"
Canada grinned up at him over a forkful of pancake. "Poland did the 'I'm cold, give me your jacket' thing?"
America blinked at him. "Oh shit, I forgot that was a thing. Yeah, so he was definitely angling to come upstairs. So I, you know, I invited him." He crossed his legs and tugged his heel up over his knee.
---
"And then he invited me upstairs, Liet, oh my God." Poland flapped his hands in the air like he was trying to fan-dry a manicure.
"And you said yes," Lithuania mumbled, and snapped in the last bow. "There, you're done."
"Oh my God do I look super cute? Let me go check--" Poland bolted to his feet and ran into the bathroom.
Lithuania popped his neck and shifted up higher on the couch. His house had gone cool and dim and quiet since Poland had arrived, and washed-out blue shadows draped off every windowsill.
Poland drummed back in and hopped up onto the arm of the couch next to Lithuania, almost overshot onto the floor but caught himself on his friend's shoulder. "So fucking precious," he announced, then, "Yeah, well yeah, I said yes. Like, not saying yes would've been totally rude, you know?"
"Did you want to go upstairs?" Lithuania pushed back across the couch to give Poland space.
Poland gave him a guarded look. "Well that kinda depended on what he had in mind."
"…Makeouts?" Lithuania guessed.
"Oh God, even worse, Westerns."
---
"He wouldn't leave," America said, plaintive. His hair dropped forward and stuck on the top rim of his glasses. "I mean--he kinda seemed to be expecting me to entertain him, and I didn't really know what to do, so I figured, put on a movie."
"Right," Canada allowed. He smeared butter between two pancakes with the back of his knife. "And Poland likes your movies."
---
"I thought you liked America's movies," Lithuania wondered.
"Ugh, I do!" Poland rolled his eyes and flopped backwards down onto the couch, his head in Lithuania's lap, his hands folded on his stomach. "I mean, it was kinda like, crude, you know? All the--ponies, and guys in chaps, and stubble, and the whole thing is so America, and like, ponies--"
"Oh," Lithuania's eyes widened. He straightened one of Poland's askew braids on reflex. "So he kind of, um, put on Poland-porn."
"Yeah exactly! Like, uh, no, it is not that easy to get your hands on my junk, got it cowboy?"
---
America chewed on his lower lip. "But then he was, um." He coughed. "He was kinda, like…on the couch, you know, he was like…" Scratched the back of his neck. "Like, he was getting really close. Like, Biblically close. Like, with a little bit of rearranging he could've given me a prostate exam from that close kind of close."
---
"It's really fucking cold at America's house this time of year, I mean what is even up with that?"
Lithuania shrugged. "I don't remember it being that cold."
"It was so cold, Liet."
"No, I believe you."
"Like…so cold."
---
"And then…what happened?" Canada propped his face between his hands and watched America, a tiny smile on his face.
America blushed. "Well, you've gotta understand, he was like…all tucked into the crook of my arm, and…the lights from the screen made him look even shinier, even that lip gloss stuff he wears, and--and he really does smell like cherries from up close, do you know why that is? Do they even grow cherries in Poland?"
"I have no idea," Canada replied. "I don't think so."
"Maybe it's just his shampoo or something…" America's eyes slunk out the window. "But anyway, then, um, I don't know exactly what happened next, but the next thing I knew, I was, um…Well, everything went sorta fast and fuzzy and I wasn't breathing so good, and then...I was just..."
Canada waited.
And waited.
Almost a whole crimson-blushing minute passed before he provided, "Kissing Poland?"
America pulled off his glasses and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "His lips are really soft," he muttered.
---
"So…was it a nice kiss?" Lithuania tucked his hair over his ear. It kept dropping into his face as he looked down at Poland.
Poland's whole expression contorted. "Like, no! It was--it was--totally unprovoked, and like--his mouth was all, like…weird and supple and so, like…warmer than I expected…and he didn't even go for tongue!"
"Oh, that's sweet," Lithuania smiled.
Poland jerked upright; Lithuania almost didn't pull back in time to keep Poland's forehead from cracking into his chin. "It's not sweet, Liet! This was super unwelcome kissing!"
"But…you went on a date with him, and followed him up to his room, and you were cuddling on the couch together, and…"
"Oh my God, like whose side are you on!"
---
"And it was all…it was all…" America made a wavy, frustrated gesture with his fork. "I don't know, he went all soft and tense at the same time, and it was really nice for a few seconds, but--then he stood up and hauled off and slapped me."
"Ouch," Canada observed. "Um...literally I guess, but I meant like..."
America ignored him. "And then I was apologizing, and then he was apologizing, but kind of yelling at me at the same time, and it was all kind of fast and confusing and my mouth still tasted like vanilla bean lip gloss, and then he was storming out of the house. With my jacket," America realized belatedly, "Fuck."
"Weird," Canada agreed. "I don't know, maybe you moved too fast?"
"Maybe? Should I take it slower next time? Does it even get any slower than like, one kiss after a whole fucking night of…"
"--Are you going to go on another date with him?"
America blinked up at Canada, wide-eyed and frozen.
---
"So…you're still going to go on another date with him?" Lithuania marveled. He folded America's jacket and laid it across the dining room table.
"I guess," Poland mumbled, his chin propped on his wrists, glum. "If he asks me out again. And he doesn't nuke me first."
"I'm sure he won't nuke you," Lithuania promised. "And, um. He probably won't try to kiss you again, either. So…you should be safe."
Poland looked crestfallen. "Yeah…I guess he probably won't, huh."
"…You sound kind of. Um. Disappointed about that, Poland."
Poland's nose crinkled up. He glared at Lithuania. "Shyeah, Liet. Like...please."
---
"I-I guess…if he wants to hang out again, like…God, I don't know," America trailed off, scalded red, fingers tight on the edge of the table, eyes fixed on the wreckage of his pancakes. A few seconds passed. "Poland is confusing," he mumbled.
Canada nodded. "And shiny."
"And shiny."
"And really kissable."
"And really--no. Dude. Come on."
"I think you'd make a cute couple," Canada smiled bright and twirled his fork.
"We're not a couple! We're not dating!"
"Let me know how your next date turns out, okay?"
"We're not dating! Canada? Canada! We're not dating!"
---
You can look at a directory of all of my Hetalia fic here!
America and Poland go on a--date? ("It wasn't a date!") And it ends in...disaster, or something--neither of them are too sure. It definitely calls for a second opinion.
Genre: Comedy/Romance.
Modern. PG-13.
The first of two fills for the aph_rarexchange!
---
"Oh my God Liet, like, oh my God, oh my God--"
"Poland? --Poland, you--oh, um, please calm down, I--"
"Liet it was like oh my God you don't even know it was so totally--"
"Just…just sit down, here…um, I'm sorry I haven't cleaned yet today, let me just…is that America's jacket?"
"Liet oh my God you have to listen!"
"I'm listening, what happened?"
---
"Canada--" America grabbed his brother by the shoulders and gave him the serious over-the-glasses look; the get ready to do me a solid look. "I need you to kill me, right now."
"I--what?" Canada tugged off his oven mitt and tucked it under his arm. "Um…I'm making pancakes, can it wait?"
"Last meal. Okay. Awesome. But as soon as we're done, okay?" America pushed past him into Canada's house.
"Hey, come in," Canada's eyes followed him, bemused. He knocked the front door shut with his shoulder and followed America into the kitchen.
---
"I'm gonna get nuked!" Poland wailed. He had his knees tucked up to his forehead and his fists tangled in his hair. "Like, oh my God, Liet, I mean, I finally started to get my shit together, and now I'm gonna get--"
"What are--Poland, America isn't going to nuke you. Please just…take a deep breath, okay…?" Lithuania eased down onto the couch next to Poland and put a cautious arm around his shoulders. "Did you two…fight? What--what happened?"
Poland shot him a thin and desperate look. "Well yeah we fought, I mean, I wouldn't be about to go post-apocalyptic if we hadn't fought. And all my bomb shelters are totally commie-era, and there's gonna be zombies and supermutants and a serious fashion crisis and Liet, I don't even know, we were just sitting on America's couch, and then it was like, wham, out of nowhere--"
---
"You kissed Poland?" Canada gaped.
---
"You slapped him?" Lithuania managed.
"I panicked!" Poland cried.
---
"I panicked!" America dropped down at the kitchen table and buried his face in his arms. His voice went muffled. "I mean…you know what Poland's like…"
"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean," Canada went to the stove and recovered his spatula. Butter popped and sizzled on the griddle. "In the context of, um…kissing him out of nowhere? --You really did?"
"I didn't think it was out of nowhere!" America sat up, fumbled off his glasses, and thunked his head down to the table again. "He'd been flirting all night, I thought he…I don't know…"
Canada rubbed his hair out of his face. "Since when are you dating Poland?"
America shoved back from the table. The kitchen chair legs squeaked across the maplewood floor. "I didn't think we were dating!"
---
"I mean, I thought we were dating!" Poland grabbed Lithuania's collar in both hands like he intended to wring the answers out of him.
"Since when?" Lithuania tried to ease himself free.
"Like since forever, you know? Ever since we all got out of Russia's house, and America came around all 'baby you are such hot shit, way to free election your way straight to my heart, now come here and let me see to your international defense needs all night long--'"
"--America said that?" Lithuania got his shirt back, then blinked as Poland crumpled into his lap.
"Well like, words to that effect or whatever? It was more a vibe, you know. All like, come hither and shit. We were having a thing, is what I'm saying."
"But you slapped him when he kissed you," Lithuania tried.
---
Canada shook his head and nudged up his glasses, eyes on the pancake batter. "But--if you didn't think you were dating, why did you kiss him?"
"You know what he's like," America repeated. He'd gone to slouch against the wall next to the stove, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans.
Canada scooped a pancake out of the pan and onto the plate on the sideboard. America tried to steal a scrap off the edge, then jerked his hand back and blew on his fingers. "That's the second time you've said that. I seriously don't know what you mean."
"He's just all…" America gingerly wrung out his fingers, nibbled on the tip of his thumb. "Shiny and…talks fast and smells like cherries and…" His voice dropped, and dropped, until he was mumbling. "Big green eyes, and looks weirdly cute in a skirt, and…and…"
"Oh," Canada smiled. "That's cute. You have a crush."
America's head snapped up. He wiped his hand on his thigh. "I don't have a crush, that's not--"
Canada poured more batter in the griddle and waited.
"…It's not a crush," America finished, weak. He shifted onto his left heel and scratched the back of his calf. Wobbled.
"Why not?" Canada passed America a bowl full of batter. "Can you stir that, please? --He fits your list."
"Oh, sure thing--I have a list?" America grappled with the wooden spoon, his tongue pinned to the side between his teeth.
Canada shrugged and nudged his hair back over his ear. "You know…nice hair, free democracy, hates communism, likes your movies…"
"He does have really nice hair," America mumbled, then "Fuck" as he spattered batter onto his glasses. He wrestled the bowl back onto the sideboard and dragged off his glasses to clean them on the edge of his shirt. "But no, it's not a crush. Like, not a crush crush. He's just--he's Poland, you know?"
"What's wrong with Poland?" Canada mused. "I mean…he's kind of, um, intense sometimes, I guess, but--we're all allies, you know? There's nothing weird about hooking up with one of your allies."
---
"I mean just because we're allies that doesn't mean he can just--I mean like--"
"So…you didn't want him to kiss you," Lithuania ventured. He picked up another bobby pin and thumbed it into Poland's side braid.
Poland sat on the floor between Lithuania's knees, a pillow clutched in against his chest, a big lost look tangled up across his face. "Like, no! I mean--like, totally not, seriously. Ew. Not even. Fat chance. Dream on. Not even in this lifetime."
Lithuania paused, two more pins clamped between his teeth. Ten little bows were arranged in a line at his side. "Buff you faid you were dating."
"Well yeah," Poland wriggled back an inch. Somehow his sandals had ended up halfway across the floor. "I mean, he's so into me, you know? And like…he's kinda hot, in like, that charismatic dumbass kinda way. I can dig it. And his ass, like oh my God, that is an ass made to be ploughed, harrowed, and planted, you know what I'm saying? And maybe left fallow like every two or three times around in order to prevent erosion."
There was a little silence at that. Lithuania finished off one braid, tied it off with a bow, then started another, before he took the pins out of his mouth and managed, "Did you just compare America's ass to the three field system?"
"But that still doesn't mean he can just kiss me!" Poland's fingers cramped white around his pillow.
Lithuania boggled at the back of Poland's head. "But you just said you wanted to…um…do I have to do the crop rotation metaphor, or can we just--"
Poland squinched his feet in closer to his trunk. "Look, that's just like, my professional agricultural opinion, okay. It's not like I want to have sex with America."
Lithuania opened his mouth, then closed it.
"I don't, Liet."
"Um, okay, Poland. If you say so."
"I totally say so, and here's the thing, it's like, we can date or whatever? Because I am such a super awesome diplomat and that's like totally diplomatic of me to let America take me out and shit? But like--kissing me, on the mouth, when we like haven't even talked about our future or gone to see the pope or anything--"
Lithuania squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, then sighed, "Listen, Poland, can you…Take it from the top, okay? Tell me what happened."
---
"America, pass the syrup and just tell me what happened, huh?" Canada put the platter of pancakes between them, and deposited a butter tray beside it. America grabbed his fork and speared off the top of the stack.
---
"So, America invited you over," Lithuania prompted.
---
"So Poland dropped by unannounced." Canada upturned the syrup over the crumpled heap of pancakes remaining on the tray.
"Right," America confirmed, and stuffed a wad of folded-up pancake into his mouth. "And I was like, well, I sort of already had plans--"
"World Series--" Canada supplied.
"World Series, right--"
---
"--And he wanted to take me to a baseball game. Which like, lame as shit, you know, but whatever. Since when am I high maintenance."
Lithuania maintained an eyes-down determined silence.
---
"He really got into it, though," America chirped as he bumped the fridge door shut with his hip, gesturing with a carton of milk. "I had to explain some of the rules to him, but then people started doing the wave, and I bought him a giant foam finger, and that's always a hit, the giant foam finger--"
---
"America is such a dork," Poland confided.
Lithuania smiled. "He really is."
---
America sloshed milk into his glass, put the carton down. "Anyway, we walked back to my place after that, and I figured that once we got to his car he'd head home, you know? But he--oh, sorry dude--" He handed the milk to Canada.
"Thanks. But he asked to come upstairs?"
America paused, ticking at his incisor with one of the tines of his fork. "He didn't ask? But he hung around talking on my porch for, seriously, ten minutes. And it was cold, I mean, this was not 'hey let's chat on the porch all goddamned night' weather, I'd actually already given him my jacket on the walk home…"
Canada grinned up at him over a forkful of pancake. "Poland did the 'I'm cold, give me your jacket' thing?"
America blinked at him. "Oh shit, I forgot that was a thing. Yeah, so he was definitely angling to come upstairs. So I, you know, I invited him." He crossed his legs and tugged his heel up over his knee.
---
"And then he invited me upstairs, Liet, oh my God." Poland flapped his hands in the air like he was trying to fan-dry a manicure.
"And you said yes," Lithuania mumbled, and snapped in the last bow. "There, you're done."
"Oh my God do I look super cute? Let me go check--" Poland bolted to his feet and ran into the bathroom.
Lithuania popped his neck and shifted up higher on the couch. His house had gone cool and dim and quiet since Poland had arrived, and washed-out blue shadows draped off every windowsill.
Poland drummed back in and hopped up onto the arm of the couch next to Lithuania, almost overshot onto the floor but caught himself on his friend's shoulder. "So fucking precious," he announced, then, "Yeah, well yeah, I said yes. Like, not saying yes would've been totally rude, you know?"
"Did you want to go upstairs?" Lithuania pushed back across the couch to give Poland space.
Poland gave him a guarded look. "Well that kinda depended on what he had in mind."
"…Makeouts?" Lithuania guessed.
"Oh God, even worse, Westerns."
---
"He wouldn't leave," America said, plaintive. His hair dropped forward and stuck on the top rim of his glasses. "I mean--he kinda seemed to be expecting me to entertain him, and I didn't really know what to do, so I figured, put on a movie."
"Right," Canada allowed. He smeared butter between two pancakes with the back of his knife. "And Poland likes your movies."
---
"I thought you liked America's movies," Lithuania wondered.
"Ugh, I do!" Poland rolled his eyes and flopped backwards down onto the couch, his head in Lithuania's lap, his hands folded on his stomach. "I mean, it was kinda like, crude, you know? All the--ponies, and guys in chaps, and stubble, and the whole thing is so America, and like, ponies--"
"Oh," Lithuania's eyes widened. He straightened one of Poland's askew braids on reflex. "So he kind of, um, put on Poland-porn."
"Yeah exactly! Like, uh, no, it is not that easy to get your hands on my junk, got it cowboy?"
---
America chewed on his lower lip. "But then he was, um." He coughed. "He was kinda, like…on the couch, you know, he was like…" Scratched the back of his neck. "Like, he was getting really close. Like, Biblically close. Like, with a little bit of rearranging he could've given me a prostate exam from that close kind of close."
---
"It's really fucking cold at America's house this time of year, I mean what is even up with that?"
Lithuania shrugged. "I don't remember it being that cold."
"It was so cold, Liet."
"No, I believe you."
"Like…so cold."
---
"And then…what happened?" Canada propped his face between his hands and watched America, a tiny smile on his face.
America blushed. "Well, you've gotta understand, he was like…all tucked into the crook of my arm, and…the lights from the screen made him look even shinier, even that lip gloss stuff he wears, and--and he really does smell like cherries from up close, do you know why that is? Do they even grow cherries in Poland?"
"I have no idea," Canada replied. "I don't think so."
"Maybe it's just his shampoo or something…" America's eyes slunk out the window. "But anyway, then, um, I don't know exactly what happened next, but the next thing I knew, I was, um…Well, everything went sorta fast and fuzzy and I wasn't breathing so good, and then...I was just..."
Canada waited.
And waited.
Almost a whole crimson-blushing minute passed before he provided, "Kissing Poland?"
America pulled off his glasses and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "His lips are really soft," he muttered.
---
"So…was it a nice kiss?" Lithuania tucked his hair over his ear. It kept dropping into his face as he looked down at Poland.
Poland's whole expression contorted. "Like, no! It was--it was--totally unprovoked, and like--his mouth was all, like…weird and supple and so, like…warmer than I expected…and he didn't even go for tongue!"
"Oh, that's sweet," Lithuania smiled.
Poland jerked upright; Lithuania almost didn't pull back in time to keep Poland's forehead from cracking into his chin. "It's not sweet, Liet! This was super unwelcome kissing!"
"But…you went on a date with him, and followed him up to his room, and you were cuddling on the couch together, and…"
"Oh my God, like whose side are you on!"
---
"And it was all…it was all…" America made a wavy, frustrated gesture with his fork. "I don't know, he went all soft and tense at the same time, and it was really nice for a few seconds, but--then he stood up and hauled off and slapped me."
"Ouch," Canada observed. "Um...literally I guess, but I meant like..."
America ignored him. "And then I was apologizing, and then he was apologizing, but kind of yelling at me at the same time, and it was all kind of fast and confusing and my mouth still tasted like vanilla bean lip gloss, and then he was storming out of the house. With my jacket," America realized belatedly, "Fuck."
"Weird," Canada agreed. "I don't know, maybe you moved too fast?"
"Maybe? Should I take it slower next time? Does it even get any slower than like, one kiss after a whole fucking night of…"
"--Are you going to go on another date with him?"
America blinked up at Canada, wide-eyed and frozen.
---
"So…you're still going to go on another date with him?" Lithuania marveled. He folded America's jacket and laid it across the dining room table.
"I guess," Poland mumbled, his chin propped on his wrists, glum. "If he asks me out again. And he doesn't nuke me first."
"I'm sure he won't nuke you," Lithuania promised. "And, um. He probably won't try to kiss you again, either. So…you should be safe."
Poland looked crestfallen. "Yeah…I guess he probably won't, huh."
"…You sound kind of. Um. Disappointed about that, Poland."
Poland's nose crinkled up. He glared at Lithuania. "Shyeah, Liet. Like...please."
---
"I-I guess…if he wants to hang out again, like…God, I don't know," America trailed off, scalded red, fingers tight on the edge of the table, eyes fixed on the wreckage of his pancakes. A few seconds passed. "Poland is confusing," he mumbled.
Canada nodded. "And shiny."
"And shiny."
"And really kissable."
"And really--no. Dude. Come on."
"I think you'd make a cute couple," Canada smiled bright and twirled his fork.
"We're not a couple! We're not dating!"
"Let me know how your next date turns out, okay?"
"We're not dating! Canada? Canada! We're not dating!"
---
You can look at a directory of all of my Hetalia fic here!