[Fic] Friends
Title: Friends
Characters/pairing(s): Russia + Lithuania
Rating: G, unless boys hugging is PG. Really, this is cotton candy.
Gifter: madelineusher
Giftee: sherry-doll
Lithuania is preparing the day’s breakfast when Russia walks in, expression downcast. Instantly and instinctively, Lithuania braces himself for trouble - generally a sad Russia isn’t a violent one, but there’s always the exception to prove the rule, and sad is more dangerous than Russia’s usual smile.
“Is something wrong, sir?” he asks nervously, lowering his ladle. Best to be respectful.
“The sunflowers I planted…” Russia shakes his head, looking at his feet. “They’re wilting and turning brown. I don’t know why. Wh-why are they…” He wipes at one eye with a gloved hand.
Inside, Lithuania panics. Those sunflowers are one of the few things that keep Russia sane and calm. Lithuania had long known that someday they might wilt, given Russia’s weather, but he had hoped they would last at least until he had obtained his independence. Now there seems to be no hope of that.
But of course he can’t show the panic he’s feeling, so instead he does his best to smile reassuringly. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, sir. They’re resilient, and you’ve shown them such good care!” The last part, at least, is not a lie - Russia spends hours out in the small garden, tending to the flowers with love and affection. “Don’t worry!”
Russia nods slowly, not looking like he believes any of it. “May… may I ask Lithuania a little favor?”
Oh, God. “Yes, sir? What is it?” He has to just smile. Smiling makes it better.
“Lithuania used to take care of crops, and he was good at it, yes? Maybe if you helped, the flowers would get better.” Russia looks up then, and there’s a mixed look of heartbreak and hope there that Lithuania’s never seen before. It’s almost sweet, like a child asking for help with a toy they’ve broken, and for a moment Lithuania finds it difficult to remember he’s afraid.
“Of course, sir,” he replies at last, and Russia smiles like a child and heads out to the garden, Lithuania following behind.
---
The scene outside is worse than he had thought it would be. An early snowfall has settled around the green stalks of the flowers, and the flowers themselves are drooping downward and turning brown in an obviously unhealthy way. It’s clear to Lithuania’s eyes that several of them are dead already, and others are past the point where they can be saved.
“We’re going to have to start with pruning, sir,” he says nervously. “Some of these are… are gone, and removing them will mean a little more light and nutrition for the rest. Is that okay?” He rests his hand on the stalk of one of the dead flowers, shaking a few petals loose.
Russia frowns at that, looking upset. “Misha is gone? But he was… was doing so well…” He steps closer, straightening the bent stalk gently and carefully. “Are you sure he will not get better?”
“Misha?” Lithuania asks in return, concerned and confused.
“Ah! All of my little flowers have names.” Russia brightens a little, gesturing to the field. “Misha, Alyosha, Vova, Mitya…” He giggles, a slight flush on his cheek. “I have named plants ever since I was very small. I think it helped our crops grow a little better, when we had not very much food! Everything just wants to be loved, yes? So I show my little flowers love to help them grow strong and happy!” He strokes a finger along one of the dead flower’s petal, smile fading again. “But it makes it a little sadder when they… do not grow so well. They are like my friends.”
For a moment, Lithuania can do nothing but stare at Russia, overwhelmed. He had seen signs of Russia’s childlike sweetness before, but it had been so long that he had almost forgotten that the man could, in fact, be cute. This, though, goes beyond even that. It’s charming and heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once, and in his mind’s eye, he can see the image of Russia as a small child, desperately imploring some small plant to grow up.
How much it must have hurt, with every loss, every plant he named and talked to that did not grow. Russia, he knows, takes every loss, every betrayal as something deeply personal, and Lithuania knows it is hard for the man to recover from any damage. Now he has found that there are a million tiny wounds he did not know about before, and for a moment he forgets all his anger and all his fear and sees Russia as a child in need of help.
“We’ll save all the ones we can,” he promises, feeling a slight smile on his lip. “Only a few will have to die, and after… I’ll help you plant and name the new ones, okay? I promise, this will be okay.”
Russia stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, and then without warning Lithuania is being crushed in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Lithuania, thank you so much, I-I was very scared, thank you…”
Lithuania thinks of saying aloud that Russia is holding a little too tightly, but finally he decides that for once he can forgive it, and instead he returns the man’s embrace.
Come summer, he thinks, the garden will be yellow and gold with a hundred new friends for Russia.
Characters/pairing(s): Russia + Lithuania
Rating: G, unless boys hugging is PG. Really, this is cotton candy.
Gifter: madelineusher
Giftee: sherry-doll
Lithuania is preparing the day’s breakfast when Russia walks in, expression downcast. Instantly and instinctively, Lithuania braces himself for trouble - generally a sad Russia isn’t a violent one, but there’s always the exception to prove the rule, and sad is more dangerous than Russia’s usual smile.
“Is something wrong, sir?” he asks nervously, lowering his ladle. Best to be respectful.
“The sunflowers I planted…” Russia shakes his head, looking at his feet. “They’re wilting and turning brown. I don’t know why. Wh-why are they…” He wipes at one eye with a gloved hand.
Inside, Lithuania panics. Those sunflowers are one of the few things that keep Russia sane and calm. Lithuania had long known that someday they might wilt, given Russia’s weather, but he had hoped they would last at least until he had obtained his independence. Now there seems to be no hope of that.
But of course he can’t show the panic he’s feeling, so instead he does his best to smile reassuringly. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, sir. They’re resilient, and you’ve shown them such good care!” The last part, at least, is not a lie - Russia spends hours out in the small garden, tending to the flowers with love and affection. “Don’t worry!”
Russia nods slowly, not looking like he believes any of it. “May… may I ask Lithuania a little favor?”
Oh, God. “Yes, sir? What is it?” He has to just smile. Smiling makes it better.
“Lithuania used to take care of crops, and he was good at it, yes? Maybe if you helped, the flowers would get better.” Russia looks up then, and there’s a mixed look of heartbreak and hope there that Lithuania’s never seen before. It’s almost sweet, like a child asking for help with a toy they’ve broken, and for a moment Lithuania finds it difficult to remember he’s afraid.
“Of course, sir,” he replies at last, and Russia smiles like a child and heads out to the garden, Lithuania following behind.
---
The scene outside is worse than he had thought it would be. An early snowfall has settled around the green stalks of the flowers, and the flowers themselves are drooping downward and turning brown in an obviously unhealthy way. It’s clear to Lithuania’s eyes that several of them are dead already, and others are past the point where they can be saved.
“We’re going to have to start with pruning, sir,” he says nervously. “Some of these are… are gone, and removing them will mean a little more light and nutrition for the rest. Is that okay?” He rests his hand on the stalk of one of the dead flowers, shaking a few petals loose.
Russia frowns at that, looking upset. “Misha is gone? But he was… was doing so well…” He steps closer, straightening the bent stalk gently and carefully. “Are you sure he will not get better?”
“Misha?” Lithuania asks in return, concerned and confused.
“Ah! All of my little flowers have names.” Russia brightens a little, gesturing to the field. “Misha, Alyosha, Vova, Mitya…” He giggles, a slight flush on his cheek. “I have named plants ever since I was very small. I think it helped our crops grow a little better, when we had not very much food! Everything just wants to be loved, yes? So I show my little flowers love to help them grow strong and happy!” He strokes a finger along one of the dead flower’s petal, smile fading again. “But it makes it a little sadder when they… do not grow so well. They are like my friends.”
For a moment, Lithuania can do nothing but stare at Russia, overwhelmed. He had seen signs of Russia’s childlike sweetness before, but it had been so long that he had almost forgotten that the man could, in fact, be cute. This, though, goes beyond even that. It’s charming and heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once, and in his mind’s eye, he can see the image of Russia as a small child, desperately imploring some small plant to grow up.
How much it must have hurt, with every loss, every plant he named and talked to that did not grow. Russia, he knows, takes every loss, every betrayal as something deeply personal, and Lithuania knows it is hard for the man to recover from any damage. Now he has found that there are a million tiny wounds he did not know about before, and for a moment he forgets all his anger and all his fear and sees Russia as a child in need of help.
“We’ll save all the ones we can,” he promises, feeling a slight smile on his lip. “Only a few will have to die, and after… I’ll help you plant and name the new ones, okay? I promise, this will be okay.”
Russia stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, and then without warning Lithuania is being crushed in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Lithuania, thank you so much, I-I was very scared, thank you…”
Lithuania thinks of saying aloud that Russia is holding a little too tightly, but finally he decides that for once he can forgive it, and instead he returns the man’s embrace.
Come summer, he thinks, the garden will be yellow and gold with a hundred new friends for Russia.