An Ordinary Day (fanfiction-Hetalia)
Title: An Ordinary Day
Author: slash4femme
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing/Category:Poland/Lithuania
Rating: NC-17
Warning: possible ideologically sensitive material, talk of Catholicism, Poland cross-dresses of course, sex, fluff . . .
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I do not make money off of doing this. The only thing I'm getting out of this is pure unadulterated creative enjoyment and less hours for me to spend doing my real work.
Summary: The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth is formed in 1569 and Poland's not sure how he feels about this whole marrying Lithuania thing.
Author Note: Not beta'd, sorry guys. Written for the springkink prompt: Poland/Lithuania; first time(s); marriage of convenience (country names preferred)
I.
Lithuania wears blue, a simple but elegant tunic without a high collar or ruff. Poland thinks he looks good. He looks calm, maybe a little nervous and Poland wishes he felt as calm as Lithuania looks. He’s not though, he’s not calm and he’s still not sure he’s ok with this.
Poland had totally not been ok with the idea to begin with. He understood its political and military value, he understood that both him and Lithuania already shared a lot of things, but it still felt weird.
“He’s my best friend.” Poland had pointed out, “It’s going to be really weird.”
It was a natural progression from what he and Lithuania already shared, his bosses assured him. Poland had been still slightly skeptical though.
“What do you think?”
Lithuania hadn't looked at him, but had chosen instead to look out over the clear blue sky. “I think we share most everything anyway.” He’d stated as practical as always “and we’re stronger together then apart.” It had come out as almost a question and Lithuania had looked sideways at him like he was almost expecting Poland to disagree.
“Yeah.” Poland had picked at the grass twisting a strand of it around his finger not looking at Lithuania either, “yeah we are.”
It’s a very official thing, with all the quiet respect due to the wishes of an aging king and the, if slightly reluctant, wishes of two nations. There are some papers to sign and everyone assures them the details will get worked out later. Poland wears his best hat, and a cute doublet with a high crisp collar. He and Lithuania sign everything they need to which takes about five minutes. Five minutes of sitting next to each other awkwardly passing a quill back and forth and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth is born. Poland sits there a little numbly as the Archbishop of Gniezno congratulates them. He risks a glance over at Lithuania who looks calm if a little too serious. They’re married he thinks, dear God, he’s married to Lithuania, and they hadn’t even gotten a wedding Mass, he hadn’t gotten to wear a dress. Something wells up inside him as a knot tightens in his chest and if Poland was been a lesser nation he would probably have burst into tears. As it is he clenches his fists at his sides and plasters a smile on his face for the Archbishop.
II.
Living with Lithuania isn’t that bad actually. The first night had been kind of rough, Poland still got a half-sick, tight feeling in his chest every time he remembered the silent stand off with each of them on opposite sides of ‘their’ bed. Eventually though Lithuania and stripped down to his under-things and gotten into bed, fluffed his pillow a couple times and rolled over. Poland had quickly stripped out of his clothes and leaving on his under-things despite the fact that he usually slept in the nude. He had gotten into his side of the bed and stared at the back of Lithuania’s head, watched his side gently rise and fall until they’d both drifted off to sleep. It hadn’t been the wedding night of Poland’s dreams or fantasies but all things considered it hadn't been bad either. Aside from that first night things had really actually not been that awkward, at least in Poland’s opinion.
They practices sparring together, in the courtyard in front of their house. Poland works in the rye fields and hunts so they can have fresh meat, while Lithuania actually volunteers to cook. After it's Poland’s turn to clean up and he’d gets distracted and wanders off halfway through Lithuania volunteers to do that too. Poland would have been happy to have servants to do all that stuff but Lithuania got nervous and unhappy when there were people around him doing work he could easily do himself. So they run their little household with a minimal staff doing most things themselves. Poland doesn’t really mind, truth be told he prefers taking care of the horses rather then leaving it to stable-hands. They get used to each other’s sleeping habits too. Lithuania sleeps like a log and snores lightly, while Poland likes to sleep spread-eagled across the bed on his stomach. Poland also still sleeps fully clothed.
Still living together Poland decides could be much, much worse. There are all sorts of people he’d, like, never want to share a house with. It’s a good thing he hadn’t married any of them. He frowns at himself in the mirror as he finishes pinning his hair into a braided crown around the top of his head and then sighs. It’s going great, everything is great, he’ll freely acknowledge that forming the Commonwealth had been the right thing to do. He’s still not sure about this whole being married to Lithuania thing though.
He leaves the house bound for the stables to feed and groom the horses, swinging his arms slightly. It was a pretty evening, clear and cool; Poland hums a snatch of a hymn to himself as he goes. He rounds the corner and comes to a stop falling silent. Lithuania is in the courtyard; he’s chopping wood for the kitchen fire a small pile already stacked neatly next to him. He’s taken off his shirt and Poland can clearly see the strong lines of his chest and abdomen, can watch the muscles in his arms and shoulders move as he swings the ax. He’s wearing soft, comfortable looking trousers, high boots and wide belt. Poland watches as sweat beads on the other nations face, rolls down his neck and chest. He’s seen the other man plenty of times in various states of undress. He’s fought along side Lithuania before, worked with him out in the fields, spars with him nearly everyday. Yet this feels different, this feels like the first time Poland has ever really looked at the other nation before, really seen the slight tan across pale skin. It’s like he’s never noticed until then the way soft brown curls escape from the string Lithuania has tied his hair back with and stick to his face. Like he’s never really thought about how Lithuania’s hands are bigger then his, his eyelashes long and delicate looking, his waist slim. Poland swallows hard even though his throat has gone suddenly dry and ducks back around the house. He doesn’t care that it will take him longer to get to the stables this way, he needs not to talk to Lithuania right now, he needs time, he needs to think.
III.
It isn’t that anything changed really; it's just that Poland started noticing Lithuania more. Noticing the way he looks or what he wears, beyond whether or not Poland thinks it would look cute on himself. He starts noticing the way the taller nation moves through the house, the way he sings softly under his breath while he cooks, the way he walks when he’s thinking of something else, carrying the laundry out to be washed or coming back from the kitchen garden, the way he gently sways his hips just a very little bit. Poland starts noticing stuff about himself as well, like what he’s wearing when he and Lithuania are together, or how his hair looks. He starts getting home from working with the horses, or in the fields early so that he can wash his face and put on a clean, cuter tunic before dinner.
Nights start to be more awkward. Mostly because Poland can’t seem to ever go to sleep when they get into bed. Instead he’s shift around, watching Lithuania drift off. He watches the way the other nations light brown curls fall across the pillows fingers itching to reach out and touch them, find out if they are as silky as they look. Sometimes Lithuania will make little snoring-snuffling noises in his sleep and Poland will have to bite back the urge to move closer to the bigger nation and put his arms around him. It’s becoming increasingly hard not to anyway. Every morning Poland is finding himself waking up closer and closer to Lithuania.
It’s embarrassing and possibly wrong and all though Poland understands being attracted to someone in human terms he’s never experienced it before and he has no idea what it might mean between nations. Besides the Church teaches doing that, or really anything, with another man is sinful, and though they are both technically nations not men, Poland is still a good Catholic.
So he does the only thing he can do and ignores it. He pretends it isn’t anything out of the ordinary that he takes particular care with his clothing, or does his hair for dinner. He tries his hardest not to notice when Lithuania’s body pushes against his while they spar, or the way Lithuania brushes up against him as they both move around the kitchen. He fights against the warmth in his chest when Lithuania cooks his favorite food or takes special care washing Poland’s favorite tunic the one with little flowers embroidered on it. He tells himself that it’s totally him being a good Christian when he helps Lithuania out with the laundry or stacks the wood for him, or makes sure he has fresh eggs to bake with. He’s so busy pretending that he almost doesn’t notice that Lithuania smiles particularly brightly when he’s around, almost. Then one day Lithuania bumps his shoulder as they are brushing by each other, Lithuania going to a meeting with the king and Poland coming in from the yard and Lithuania smiles particularly brightly touching his hand briefly before moving. All at once Poland is gripped by the urge not just to touch other nation, but to kiss him as well, on his forehead and the soft juncture of his shoulder and neck and on his lips. It scares Poland and confuses him and he’s not sure what to do.
“Polska” Lithuania says another time, looking up from where he’s been weeding the kitchen garden, “you look really nice today . . .” he hesitates for just a moment before smiling, “very pretty.”
Poland has stopped dead on his way to the house just returning from working in one of their fields. He blushes bright red and his hands fly to his hair, which he had, very practically, braided and pinned to circle his head. On the walk back to the house he’d run across a cluster of wild flowers and picked some of them braiding them into his hair. Now he touches the flowers delicately with his fingertips, ducking his head to hide his blush.
“Thank you.” like, totally thank you. Lithuania only smiles, a sweet and easy thing, and Poland wants very much to fling himself into the other man’s arms. Instead he scuffs one foot in the dirt, “I’ll just go and set the table for dinner?” Then he’s off towards the house and it’s only much later that he thinks he should have said Lithuania had looked nice too because he had. He slaps himself on the forehead and promises silently to get better about that. Lithuania totally deserves it.
IV.
They go to Mass together on Christmas Eve and their shoulders brush and bump against each other as they walk through the snow. Poland wants very badly to reach out and take Lithuania’s hand in his own as they walk to where their horses are. He wants to know what it would be like to brush the snow off of the taller nation’s eyelashes. They lie in bed together and eat cookies, neither feeling like getting any sleep. Lithuania’s fingers brush against his, under the blankets and Poland pretends not to notice, pretends that the touch doesn’t make his whole body ache. Hours later they get up and wander into the kitchen, stoke the hearth, and then exchange gifts. Poland has gotten Lithuania beautifully made, new hunting knife and a new tunic that he has embroidered with patterns of leaves in the same green as Lithuania’s eyes. Lithuania gives him a set of brightly colored silk ribbons for his hair and a tiny beautiful book of Psalms. Poland actually squeals when Lithuania gives him the gifts, “Oh Liet, this is amazing!” He ties blue and pink ribbons in his hair and Lithuania laughs and brings out the cake he’d made the day before for their breakfast. Poland feels entirely grateful to be there and to have the other nation in his life.
Spring comes and they turn over the fields and the garden and then plant. There is a storm brewing Poland can feel it and their bosses talk of their neighbors' greed and the possibility of war. Lithuania and Poland don’t talk about it directly but they start practice sparing more and spending more time listening to Dukes and Generals then working in the fields. Poland totally misses it, misses the quiet, but he still gets to take care of the horses. He still gets to come home and eat dinner with Lithuania every night, sleep next to the other nation, see him smile in the sunlight.
It’s a beautiful day when things change, in more ways then one. It’s been sunny and warm all week without being too hot, and that day Poland has finish up his chores early. So instead he goes walking looking for mushrooms or other wild vegetables for dinner. He has no real work to do so he’s wearing a simple, lightweight shift with embroidered flowers around the color and his hair tied back with the ribbons Lithuania had given him. He knows the people he meets might mistake him for a girl this way, but the dress is too pretty for him to really care. He does come across some mushrooms and picks them, putting them in his basket. He also comes across some wild flowers and he picks a few tucking them into his hair and then picks a large armful and heads back to the house.
“Liet I got a present for you!” he shouts as he pushes into the house, “They’re going to look gorgeous in the kitchen.”
Lithuania comes around the corner a little disheveled, hair tied back, carry a sword. Poland guesses he must have been practicing out in the courtyard. “Oh” He says when he sees Poland with his arms full of flowers then smiles, “they’re beautiful! Come on,” he turns towards to the kitchen “lets put them in some water.” Poland beams and follows after the taller nation and Lithuania props his sword in the corner and fills a pitcher with water and Poland bring the flowers to the table. Their hands brush as Poland puts the flowers into the pitcher Lithuania is holding and Lithuania carefully puts the pitcher on the table.
“Thank you Polska.” He’s still smiling at the smaller nation. Their hands brush again and this time Lithuania reaches out and takes Poland’s hand in his own. Poland is unsure what to do, and when he looks up Lithuania has a look in his eyes this is almost fear. Poland realizes he has two choices, he can either pull his hand away and keep on pretending that nothing is happening like he as been, or he can admit that this is something they both want. He looks down at their linked hands and thinks that this is wrong and feels guilt wash over him for wanting this, for wanting to corrupt his sweet Lithuania like this. Then all at once he remembers that they are married, and that this marriage was blessed by an Archbishop and something that has been twisted tight in his chest for so very long slowly uncurls.
He leans forward and takes Lithuania’s other hand in his and kisses the taller nation softly on the lips. The kiss is hesitant and Lithuania makes a small surprised noise but doesn’t pull away. After a moment they both pull back to look at each other and then Poland’s hands are dropping away to slide around Lithuania’s waist and the taller nation’s hands come up to cup the back of Poland’s head. Then they are kissing again, but this kiss is slow and wet and deep, and it lights every part of Poland’s body on fire and makes Lithuania’s hands shakes. They taste each other thoroughly push their bodies close together and Poland thinks nothing in the world is as good as this. They break apart a little to breathe and Lithuania leans his head against Poland’s shoulder, his breath hot against the other nations neck and ear, “Polska.” Lithuania puts so much wonder and joy into his name that Poland trembles all over.
“Liet I-”
He can’t get it out, can hardly breathe and he needs so hard it almost hurts. Lithuania rubs his face against Poland’s soft hair. They somehow have common sense enough to make it into the bedroom. Poland pushes Lithuania down onto the soft bed, and starts undoing the laces on his tunic enough so he can pull it over the taller nations head. Poland straddles the taller nation sitting across his hips. While Lithuania’s hands go up stroke along Poland’s neck down his shoulders to his chest. Then Lithuania pauses like he doesn’t quite know what to do, hands pressed against Poland. His hands move across the smaller nations chest fingers brushing a nipple and Poland gasps. Lithuania’s gaze shoots up to lock with Poland’s and he moves his fingers back over Poland’s nipples, presses against them through the thin clothe. Poland can’t help gasping, can’t help rocking his hips forward slightly. They both hiss and Lithuania pushes himself up, presses his fingers firmly against both of Poland’s nipples, presses his lips gently to first one then the other giving them little kisses through the clothe.
“You like that?” Lithuania looks up questioningly at the smaller nation straddling his lap and Poland bites his lip and nods.
Lithuania’s fingers continue to play with Poland’s chest and Poland brushes his own hands up Lithuania’s chest. He presses fingers against the hard muscle of his stomach and shoulders, presses against one of Lithuania’s own nipples and the other nation gasps. They kiss again, hands moving across each other’s chest learning what made the other nation react. Lithuania arches and sighs when Poland circles his navel with one finger and Poland inhauls sharply when Lithuania licks at the dip in his collarbone. Poland shifts himself against Lithuania, one hand becoming bolder gliding along one of Lithuania’s thighs to press, just there, between his legs. Lithuania gasps, back arching, hips moving up into Poland’s hand. Poland presses a little bit more, moves his hand in a slow small circle, feels how hard and thick the other nation is even through his trousers.
“Oh God.” Lithuania’s head rolls to the side his eyelashes fluttering. “Polska.” Poland sucks in a quick breath at the sound of Lithuania saying his name like that. He grabs the back of the other nations neck, kisses him hard and greedy and suddenly there is too much fabric between them. He pulls at Lithuania’s trousers hissing at himself when he can’t get them undone.
“Liet-”
Lithuania’s hand are suddenly there helping him and between the two of them they get the offending garments pulled down to the taller nations knees. The taller nation makes a small, strangled noise when the layers of fabric are wrestled away and his erection is freed. Poland doesn’t even hesitate, hitching his dress up around his waist and kicking off his under-drawers. He pushes his hips forward, rubs his own length along Lithuania’s and they both cry out at the feeling of it. Lithuania bucks his own hips up and Poland grinds down, and there is heat everywhere the taller nation touches. There is an almost overwhelming pleasure where they rub together, where his nipples are still hard and tender from Lithuania fingers. Poland gasps out what sounds like a strangled sob and pulls the other nation impossibly closer, grinds his hips down, tangles his fingers in soft brown curls, as Lithuania’s mouth leaves a sloppy wet trail along his jaw. Lithuania is murmuring things, Poland’s brain can’t really understand under the circumstances. All he knows is that he wants to touch Lithuania suddenly more then he wants anything else, and he reaches between them awkwardly trying to get his small hand around both their lengths. He looks down and, oh blessed Lord, The sight alone almost undoes him. Lithuania makes a small mewling noise like a kitten when Poland’s hand closes around him and it only takes a few, all be it awkward strokes before Lithuania whole body shakes and he comes. It’s the feeling of his own length being covered by Lithuania’s warm sticky fluid that sends Poland over the edge and he cries out and falls on top of the other nation.
They lay like that for a long time until Lithuania’s arms go around Poland’s body. Poland huffs a little and rolls over pulling his dress all the way off and then helping Lithuania with his pants. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Lithuania tells him seriously like he might be confessing a crime. He brushes Poland’s hair back from his face, picking a totally mangled flower out of it and tossing it onto the floor. “You're always so beautiful.”
Poland blushes and then looks away allows one hand to lie against Lithuania’s strong chest.
“I really wanted this too.” He finally admits and it’s like a weight as gone from his chest when he says it out loud. He wants this, wants his husband, he smiles at that and Lithuania tips his chin up and kisses him.
“We should make dinner.” Lithuania tells him gently and Poland shifts again next to him.
“Or you know, we could totally do it again.” He points out hopefully, and then flips over so that he’s straddling the taller nation once more. Lithuania lets out a sigh that turns into a groan when Poland experimentally rolls his hips down against Lithuania’s. “I want to find out what makes you feel good.” Poland tells him suddenly serious and Lithuania sits up enough to pull the smaller nation down for a kiss.
Much, much later while Poland is drifting off to sleep, body curled around the other nation, he thinks that he now knows experientially that getting married to Lithuania hadn’t been that bad an idea after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes:
- The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was formed in 1569 by the Union of Lublin. The Commonwealths first elected king was chosen in 1574 by a body of nobles convened by the Archbishop of Gniezno who was acting regent at the time. The Commonwealth lasted until 1795. It was considered a golden age for both Poland and Lithuania. (http://www.allempires.com/article/index.php?q=polish_lithuanian)
- I purposefully toned down Poland’s mannerisms because first of all the historian in me wouldn’t let me get away with it for the time period. More importantly though, because in this story Poland is very young and doesn’t have same ‘Devil may care’ attitude he does later on. Which in my mind would make him more self conscious about wanting to speak like everyone else.
Author: slash4femme
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing/Category:Poland/Lithuania
Rating: NC-17
Warning: possible ideologically sensitive material, talk of Catholicism, Poland cross-dresses of course, sex, fluff . . .
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I do not make money off of doing this. The only thing I'm getting out of this is pure unadulterated creative enjoyment and less hours for me to spend doing my real work.
Summary: The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth is formed in 1569 and Poland's not sure how he feels about this whole marrying Lithuania thing.
Author Note: Not beta'd, sorry guys. Written for the springkink prompt: Poland/Lithuania; first time(s); marriage of convenience (country names preferred)
I.
Lithuania wears blue, a simple but elegant tunic without a high collar or ruff. Poland thinks he looks good. He looks calm, maybe a little nervous and Poland wishes he felt as calm as Lithuania looks. He’s not though, he’s not calm and he’s still not sure he’s ok with this.
Poland had totally not been ok with the idea to begin with. He understood its political and military value, he understood that both him and Lithuania already shared a lot of things, but it still felt weird.
“He’s my best friend.” Poland had pointed out, “It’s going to be really weird.”
It was a natural progression from what he and Lithuania already shared, his bosses assured him. Poland had been still slightly skeptical though.
“What do you think?”
Lithuania hadn't looked at him, but had chosen instead to look out over the clear blue sky. “I think we share most everything anyway.” He’d stated as practical as always “and we’re stronger together then apart.” It had come out as almost a question and Lithuania had looked sideways at him like he was almost expecting Poland to disagree.
“Yeah.” Poland had picked at the grass twisting a strand of it around his finger not looking at Lithuania either, “yeah we are.”
It’s a very official thing, with all the quiet respect due to the wishes of an aging king and the, if slightly reluctant, wishes of two nations. There are some papers to sign and everyone assures them the details will get worked out later. Poland wears his best hat, and a cute doublet with a high crisp collar. He and Lithuania sign everything they need to which takes about five minutes. Five minutes of sitting next to each other awkwardly passing a quill back and forth and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth is born. Poland sits there a little numbly as the Archbishop of Gniezno congratulates them. He risks a glance over at Lithuania who looks calm if a little too serious. They’re married he thinks, dear God, he’s married to Lithuania, and they hadn’t even gotten a wedding Mass, he hadn’t gotten to wear a dress. Something wells up inside him as a knot tightens in his chest and if Poland was been a lesser nation he would probably have burst into tears. As it is he clenches his fists at his sides and plasters a smile on his face for the Archbishop.
II.
Living with Lithuania isn’t that bad actually. The first night had been kind of rough, Poland still got a half-sick, tight feeling in his chest every time he remembered the silent stand off with each of them on opposite sides of ‘their’ bed. Eventually though Lithuania and stripped down to his under-things and gotten into bed, fluffed his pillow a couple times and rolled over. Poland had quickly stripped out of his clothes and leaving on his under-things despite the fact that he usually slept in the nude. He had gotten into his side of the bed and stared at the back of Lithuania’s head, watched his side gently rise and fall until they’d both drifted off to sleep. It hadn’t been the wedding night of Poland’s dreams or fantasies but all things considered it hadn't been bad either. Aside from that first night things had really actually not been that awkward, at least in Poland’s opinion.
They practices sparring together, in the courtyard in front of their house. Poland works in the rye fields and hunts so they can have fresh meat, while Lithuania actually volunteers to cook. After it's Poland’s turn to clean up and he’d gets distracted and wanders off halfway through Lithuania volunteers to do that too. Poland would have been happy to have servants to do all that stuff but Lithuania got nervous and unhappy when there were people around him doing work he could easily do himself. So they run their little household with a minimal staff doing most things themselves. Poland doesn’t really mind, truth be told he prefers taking care of the horses rather then leaving it to stable-hands. They get used to each other’s sleeping habits too. Lithuania sleeps like a log and snores lightly, while Poland likes to sleep spread-eagled across the bed on his stomach. Poland also still sleeps fully clothed.
Still living together Poland decides could be much, much worse. There are all sorts of people he’d, like, never want to share a house with. It’s a good thing he hadn’t married any of them. He frowns at himself in the mirror as he finishes pinning his hair into a braided crown around the top of his head and then sighs. It’s going great, everything is great, he’ll freely acknowledge that forming the Commonwealth had been the right thing to do. He’s still not sure about this whole being married to Lithuania thing though.
He leaves the house bound for the stables to feed and groom the horses, swinging his arms slightly. It was a pretty evening, clear and cool; Poland hums a snatch of a hymn to himself as he goes. He rounds the corner and comes to a stop falling silent. Lithuania is in the courtyard; he’s chopping wood for the kitchen fire a small pile already stacked neatly next to him. He’s taken off his shirt and Poland can clearly see the strong lines of his chest and abdomen, can watch the muscles in his arms and shoulders move as he swings the ax. He’s wearing soft, comfortable looking trousers, high boots and wide belt. Poland watches as sweat beads on the other nations face, rolls down his neck and chest. He’s seen the other man plenty of times in various states of undress. He’s fought along side Lithuania before, worked with him out in the fields, spars with him nearly everyday. Yet this feels different, this feels like the first time Poland has ever really looked at the other nation before, really seen the slight tan across pale skin. It’s like he’s never noticed until then the way soft brown curls escape from the string Lithuania has tied his hair back with and stick to his face. Like he’s never really thought about how Lithuania’s hands are bigger then his, his eyelashes long and delicate looking, his waist slim. Poland swallows hard even though his throat has gone suddenly dry and ducks back around the house. He doesn’t care that it will take him longer to get to the stables this way, he needs not to talk to Lithuania right now, he needs time, he needs to think.
III.
It isn’t that anything changed really; it's just that Poland started noticing Lithuania more. Noticing the way he looks or what he wears, beyond whether or not Poland thinks it would look cute on himself. He starts noticing the way the taller nation moves through the house, the way he sings softly under his breath while he cooks, the way he walks when he’s thinking of something else, carrying the laundry out to be washed or coming back from the kitchen garden, the way he gently sways his hips just a very little bit. Poland starts noticing stuff about himself as well, like what he’s wearing when he and Lithuania are together, or how his hair looks. He starts getting home from working with the horses, or in the fields early so that he can wash his face and put on a clean, cuter tunic before dinner.
Nights start to be more awkward. Mostly because Poland can’t seem to ever go to sleep when they get into bed. Instead he’s shift around, watching Lithuania drift off. He watches the way the other nations light brown curls fall across the pillows fingers itching to reach out and touch them, find out if they are as silky as they look. Sometimes Lithuania will make little snoring-snuffling noises in his sleep and Poland will have to bite back the urge to move closer to the bigger nation and put his arms around him. It’s becoming increasingly hard not to anyway. Every morning Poland is finding himself waking up closer and closer to Lithuania.
It’s embarrassing and possibly wrong and all though Poland understands being attracted to someone in human terms he’s never experienced it before and he has no idea what it might mean between nations. Besides the Church teaches doing that, or really anything, with another man is sinful, and though they are both technically nations not men, Poland is still a good Catholic.
So he does the only thing he can do and ignores it. He pretends it isn’t anything out of the ordinary that he takes particular care with his clothing, or does his hair for dinner. He tries his hardest not to notice when Lithuania’s body pushes against his while they spar, or the way Lithuania brushes up against him as they both move around the kitchen. He fights against the warmth in his chest when Lithuania cooks his favorite food or takes special care washing Poland’s favorite tunic the one with little flowers embroidered on it. He tells himself that it’s totally him being a good Christian when he helps Lithuania out with the laundry or stacks the wood for him, or makes sure he has fresh eggs to bake with. He’s so busy pretending that he almost doesn’t notice that Lithuania smiles particularly brightly when he’s around, almost. Then one day Lithuania bumps his shoulder as they are brushing by each other, Lithuania going to a meeting with the king and Poland coming in from the yard and Lithuania smiles particularly brightly touching his hand briefly before moving. All at once Poland is gripped by the urge not just to touch other nation, but to kiss him as well, on his forehead and the soft juncture of his shoulder and neck and on his lips. It scares Poland and confuses him and he’s not sure what to do.
“Polska” Lithuania says another time, looking up from where he’s been weeding the kitchen garden, “you look really nice today . . .” he hesitates for just a moment before smiling, “very pretty.”
Poland has stopped dead on his way to the house just returning from working in one of their fields. He blushes bright red and his hands fly to his hair, which he had, very practically, braided and pinned to circle his head. On the walk back to the house he’d run across a cluster of wild flowers and picked some of them braiding them into his hair. Now he touches the flowers delicately with his fingertips, ducking his head to hide his blush.
“Thank you.” like, totally thank you. Lithuania only smiles, a sweet and easy thing, and Poland wants very much to fling himself into the other man’s arms. Instead he scuffs one foot in the dirt, “I’ll just go and set the table for dinner?” Then he’s off towards the house and it’s only much later that he thinks he should have said Lithuania had looked nice too because he had. He slaps himself on the forehead and promises silently to get better about that. Lithuania totally deserves it.
IV.
They go to Mass together on Christmas Eve and their shoulders brush and bump against each other as they walk through the snow. Poland wants very badly to reach out and take Lithuania’s hand in his own as they walk to where their horses are. He wants to know what it would be like to brush the snow off of the taller nation’s eyelashes. They lie in bed together and eat cookies, neither feeling like getting any sleep. Lithuania’s fingers brush against his, under the blankets and Poland pretends not to notice, pretends that the touch doesn’t make his whole body ache. Hours later they get up and wander into the kitchen, stoke the hearth, and then exchange gifts. Poland has gotten Lithuania beautifully made, new hunting knife and a new tunic that he has embroidered with patterns of leaves in the same green as Lithuania’s eyes. Lithuania gives him a set of brightly colored silk ribbons for his hair and a tiny beautiful book of Psalms. Poland actually squeals when Lithuania gives him the gifts, “Oh Liet, this is amazing!” He ties blue and pink ribbons in his hair and Lithuania laughs and brings out the cake he’d made the day before for their breakfast. Poland feels entirely grateful to be there and to have the other nation in his life.
Spring comes and they turn over the fields and the garden and then plant. There is a storm brewing Poland can feel it and their bosses talk of their neighbors' greed and the possibility of war. Lithuania and Poland don’t talk about it directly but they start practice sparing more and spending more time listening to Dukes and Generals then working in the fields. Poland totally misses it, misses the quiet, but he still gets to take care of the horses. He still gets to come home and eat dinner with Lithuania every night, sleep next to the other nation, see him smile in the sunlight.
It’s a beautiful day when things change, in more ways then one. It’s been sunny and warm all week without being too hot, and that day Poland has finish up his chores early. So instead he goes walking looking for mushrooms or other wild vegetables for dinner. He has no real work to do so he’s wearing a simple, lightweight shift with embroidered flowers around the color and his hair tied back with the ribbons Lithuania had given him. He knows the people he meets might mistake him for a girl this way, but the dress is too pretty for him to really care. He does come across some mushrooms and picks them, putting them in his basket. He also comes across some wild flowers and he picks a few tucking them into his hair and then picks a large armful and heads back to the house.
“Liet I got a present for you!” he shouts as he pushes into the house, “They’re going to look gorgeous in the kitchen.”
Lithuania comes around the corner a little disheveled, hair tied back, carry a sword. Poland guesses he must have been practicing out in the courtyard. “Oh” He says when he sees Poland with his arms full of flowers then smiles, “they’re beautiful! Come on,” he turns towards to the kitchen “lets put them in some water.” Poland beams and follows after the taller nation and Lithuania props his sword in the corner and fills a pitcher with water and Poland bring the flowers to the table. Their hands brush as Poland puts the flowers into the pitcher Lithuania is holding and Lithuania carefully puts the pitcher on the table.
“Thank you Polska.” He’s still smiling at the smaller nation. Their hands brush again and this time Lithuania reaches out and takes Poland’s hand in his own. Poland is unsure what to do, and when he looks up Lithuania has a look in his eyes this is almost fear. Poland realizes he has two choices, he can either pull his hand away and keep on pretending that nothing is happening like he as been, or he can admit that this is something they both want. He looks down at their linked hands and thinks that this is wrong and feels guilt wash over him for wanting this, for wanting to corrupt his sweet Lithuania like this. Then all at once he remembers that they are married, and that this marriage was blessed by an Archbishop and something that has been twisted tight in his chest for so very long slowly uncurls.
He leans forward and takes Lithuania’s other hand in his and kisses the taller nation softly on the lips. The kiss is hesitant and Lithuania makes a small surprised noise but doesn’t pull away. After a moment they both pull back to look at each other and then Poland’s hands are dropping away to slide around Lithuania’s waist and the taller nation’s hands come up to cup the back of Poland’s head. Then they are kissing again, but this kiss is slow and wet and deep, and it lights every part of Poland’s body on fire and makes Lithuania’s hands shakes. They taste each other thoroughly push their bodies close together and Poland thinks nothing in the world is as good as this. They break apart a little to breathe and Lithuania leans his head against Poland’s shoulder, his breath hot against the other nations neck and ear, “Polska.” Lithuania puts so much wonder and joy into his name that Poland trembles all over.
“Liet I-”
He can’t get it out, can hardly breathe and he needs so hard it almost hurts. Lithuania rubs his face against Poland’s soft hair. They somehow have common sense enough to make it into the bedroom. Poland pushes Lithuania down onto the soft bed, and starts undoing the laces on his tunic enough so he can pull it over the taller nations head. Poland straddles the taller nation sitting across his hips. While Lithuania’s hands go up stroke along Poland’s neck down his shoulders to his chest. Then Lithuania pauses like he doesn’t quite know what to do, hands pressed against Poland. His hands move across the smaller nations chest fingers brushing a nipple and Poland gasps. Lithuania’s gaze shoots up to lock with Poland’s and he moves his fingers back over Poland’s nipples, presses against them through the thin clothe. Poland can’t help gasping, can’t help rocking his hips forward slightly. They both hiss and Lithuania pushes himself up, presses his fingers firmly against both of Poland’s nipples, presses his lips gently to first one then the other giving them little kisses through the clothe.
“You like that?” Lithuania looks up questioningly at the smaller nation straddling his lap and Poland bites his lip and nods.
Lithuania’s fingers continue to play with Poland’s chest and Poland brushes his own hands up Lithuania’s chest. He presses fingers against the hard muscle of his stomach and shoulders, presses against one of Lithuania’s own nipples and the other nation gasps. They kiss again, hands moving across each other’s chest learning what made the other nation react. Lithuania arches and sighs when Poland circles his navel with one finger and Poland inhauls sharply when Lithuania licks at the dip in his collarbone. Poland shifts himself against Lithuania, one hand becoming bolder gliding along one of Lithuania’s thighs to press, just there, between his legs. Lithuania gasps, back arching, hips moving up into Poland’s hand. Poland presses a little bit more, moves his hand in a slow small circle, feels how hard and thick the other nation is even through his trousers.
“Oh God.” Lithuania’s head rolls to the side his eyelashes fluttering. “Polska.” Poland sucks in a quick breath at the sound of Lithuania saying his name like that. He grabs the back of the other nations neck, kisses him hard and greedy and suddenly there is too much fabric between them. He pulls at Lithuania’s trousers hissing at himself when he can’t get them undone.
“Liet-”
Lithuania’s hand are suddenly there helping him and between the two of them they get the offending garments pulled down to the taller nations knees. The taller nation makes a small, strangled noise when the layers of fabric are wrestled away and his erection is freed. Poland doesn’t even hesitate, hitching his dress up around his waist and kicking off his under-drawers. He pushes his hips forward, rubs his own length along Lithuania’s and they both cry out at the feeling of it. Lithuania bucks his own hips up and Poland grinds down, and there is heat everywhere the taller nation touches. There is an almost overwhelming pleasure where they rub together, where his nipples are still hard and tender from Lithuania fingers. Poland gasps out what sounds like a strangled sob and pulls the other nation impossibly closer, grinds his hips down, tangles his fingers in soft brown curls, as Lithuania’s mouth leaves a sloppy wet trail along his jaw. Lithuania is murmuring things, Poland’s brain can’t really understand under the circumstances. All he knows is that he wants to touch Lithuania suddenly more then he wants anything else, and he reaches between them awkwardly trying to get his small hand around both their lengths. He looks down and, oh blessed Lord, The sight alone almost undoes him. Lithuania makes a small mewling noise like a kitten when Poland’s hand closes around him and it only takes a few, all be it awkward strokes before Lithuania whole body shakes and he comes. It’s the feeling of his own length being covered by Lithuania’s warm sticky fluid that sends Poland over the edge and he cries out and falls on top of the other nation.
They lay like that for a long time until Lithuania’s arms go around Poland’s body. Poland huffs a little and rolls over pulling his dress all the way off and then helping Lithuania with his pants. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Lithuania tells him seriously like he might be confessing a crime. He brushes Poland’s hair back from his face, picking a totally mangled flower out of it and tossing it onto the floor. “You're always so beautiful.”
Poland blushes and then looks away allows one hand to lie against Lithuania’s strong chest.
“I really wanted this too.” He finally admits and it’s like a weight as gone from his chest when he says it out loud. He wants this, wants his husband, he smiles at that and Lithuania tips his chin up and kisses him.
“We should make dinner.” Lithuania tells him gently and Poland shifts again next to him.
“Or you know, we could totally do it again.” He points out hopefully, and then flips over so that he’s straddling the taller nation once more. Lithuania lets out a sigh that turns into a groan when Poland experimentally rolls his hips down against Lithuania’s. “I want to find out what makes you feel good.” Poland tells him suddenly serious and Lithuania sits up enough to pull the smaller nation down for a kiss.
Much, much later while Poland is drifting off to sleep, body curled around the other nation, he thinks that he now knows experientially that getting married to Lithuania hadn’t been that bad an idea after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes:
- The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was formed in 1569 by the Union of Lublin. The Commonwealths first elected king was chosen in 1574 by a body of nobles convened by the Archbishop of Gniezno who was acting regent at the time. The Commonwealth lasted until 1795. It was considered a golden age for both Poland and Lithuania. (http://www.allempires.com/article/index.php?q=polish_lithuanian)
- I purposefully toned down Poland’s mannerisms because first of all the historian in me wouldn’t let me get away with it for the time period. More importantly though, because in this story Poland is very young and doesn’t have same ‘Devil may care’ attitude he does later on. Which in my mind would make him more self conscious about wanting to speak like everyone else.