Hello, hello! It's another Lithuania/Poland fic from yours truly! I love this pairing so much, it's so cute and yet so dramatic. The title of this fic means "pink" in Polish, by the way. This story takes place in the present day, after Lithuania became independent from Russia. We've got some serious fluff ahead, prepare yourselves!

Różowy

Lithuania set his basket down and wiped his brow. He looked out over the plowed field and his heart swelled with pride. A good day's work was always worth the toil. The hot August sun was sinking low on the horizon, giving him permission to leave his work at long last. He tossed the last of his farming tools into the basket and picked it back up. Making his way back to the house, he went over his to-do list for that evening.

"Let's see… I've got to clean these, and the laundry needs to be taken in. Maybe Poland will let me make some skilandis today…?" he muttered to himself as he trudged home. The sun was setting, and there was still so much work to be done! Maybe Poland would help fold the laundry? Then again, this was Poland he was dealing with—the only work the blonde nation ever did was take care of the ponies.

Lithuania arrived at the huge house and strolled up to the door, whistling quietly to himself. It had been such a beautiful summer, just perfect for the rye crops this year. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of late summer. It was so nice to be free and peaceful. His fight with Russia had not been too long ago, and he was still recovering, but already he could feel the strings of freedom tugging at his heart—even if he had to put up with Poland's antics.

The nation set the basket on the ground and unlocked the door. The sight that greeted him in the front hall made his jaw drop in both surprise and horror.

Poland was standing in the center of the front hall, grinning coyly and sporting a pair of pink bows in his blonde hair. But that wasn't what took Lithuania by surprise; in fact, that part was perfectly normal. What the room looked like was another story. Blue painter's tape was stuck everywhere, covering all the corners and angles in the walls. A huge pink smear was splattered across the far wall behind Poland, and the nation held a large paintbrush in his hand, dripping pink goo onto the floor. Lithuania struggled to find words; he had just cleaned that floor yesterday...! "P-P-Pol—"

"Hey, Liet!" Poland chirped, dropping the paintbrush in a paint can and spreading his arms out wide, "Look at this! Isn't it so totally cool?"

"Ah… I… what did you…"

Poland spun around in a circle and crossed his arms, pouting. He had a pink smear on his white shirt, and a dash of pink on his cheek. "Like, don't you have eyes? I'm painting the house."

Lithuania held his face in his hands. "I-I see that, but—"

"Aw, come on, Liet, help me already!" Poland tossed him a paintbrush and grabbed his own.

Lithuania stared at the brush in his hand, still in shock. Poland hopped over to the far wall and continued to cover it in a thick coat of paint. Lithuania glanced over at Poland and saw him drip more paint on his clothes. Hopefully that paint was unleaded. "What brought this on, Poland?" he asked as he worked, "You never mentioned wanting to redecorate before."

Poland shrugged and swiped his brush over a white patch of drywall. "Why not? I mean, like, this room was so plain before. It needed a little color! Besides, pink is, like, a totally awesome color. You like it?"

Lithuania finished painting a neat square onto the wall and set his brush in a tray. Personally, he would have preferred a less… bold color than bright pink. Maybe a cool blue. "First of all," he said, "You can't go getting paint on anything other than the wall." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and set about scrubbing the already drying splotches of paint off the floor. It wasn't coming off. "Ugh," he grumbled to himself, "I'll get some soap and water and a rag. Don't get any paint anywhere in the meantime."

Poland continued painting without comment. Lithuania sighed and went to the kitchen to grab a bucket. He was always the one cleaning up the messes in this house. Poland made the messes, and he fixed them. That's how it had worked out between them the entire time they'd lived together. It had worked when they defeated Prussia all that time ago, it'd worked whenever Poland had badmouthed Russia and Russia had gotten mad, it would continue to work as long as they lived in the same house. Not that Lithuania wanted to leave, even if that meant being free from tedious housekeeping and situations like this; what would Poland do without him to drag around on his wild schemes?

Lithuania filled the bucket up with water, poured some soap into it, and grabbed a towel off the clothesline in the backyard. He dragged the bucket and towel back to the front hall, silently praying Poland hadn't gotten paint anywhere else paint had no business being. He cautiously pushed the door open and stepped inside, expecting the worst.

"Huh? Oh hi, Liet," Poland said, looking up from his work. For the second time that day, Lithuania had no idea what to say: Poland was cleaning up the paint. Well, more like pushing it around on the floor with a paint-filled handkerchief, but it was more work than Lithuania had ever seen him do in the centuries they'd lived together.

Lithuania walked into the room and set the bucket down beside the mess. "Um… want help, Poland?" he asked awkwardly.

Poland plucked the handkerchief off the floor and held it arms length. He made a face. "This is gross, Liet. Find me something else."

"S… sure," Lithuania mumbled, rushing off to the kitchen. He returned with a second towel and handed it to Poland, who took it and began scrubbing the floor with it. "You're supposed to put water on it first," Lithuania said, dunking his towel in the bucket, "Like this."

Poland looked at the bucket, then at the towel in his hands. He grabbed it in his fist and shoved it into the water, slopping it out over the floor in a puddle of bubbles and soap. "Totally knew that," he grumbled, mopping up the paint.

Lithuania watched him work. It was so strange; Poland didn't even glance at him or say anything. He just stared angrily at the paint on the floor like he was going to murder it and all its little paint bubble children, too. Lithuania hesitated, then started to scrub the pink spots, too.

Poland shoved him out of the way. "No," he said, still not looking up.

Lithuania sat back on his feet and stared. The guy could get pretty darned stubborn, but he never thought Poland would be so defensive about a little spilled paint. His friend could be so proud sometimes. "Poland?" he asked, "What's wrong? I was going to help—"

"Uh-uh, no!" Poland shook his head, blonde locks swishing back and forth, "You're not cleaning it up!"

"I know I'm not, that's why I was going to start—"

"I'm not letting you clean this up," Poland muttered under his breath. Lithuania had to strain to hear him say: "I totally screwed up."

"What was that?" Lithuania said. Poland jumped, then continued scrubbing for all he was worth. "You screwed up something?"

The blonde nation tossed the pink towel into the soapy bucket and sat back on the floor, facing away from Lithuania. He crossed his arms. "Yeah, and it's totally dumb. I, like, never screw anything up."

Lithuania could beg to differ on that last comment, but kept quiet. He scooted up next to Poland and sat beside him. "What happened, Poland?" he asked, hugging his knees to his chest.

Poland began to say something, but stopped. "It's totally bogus anyway," he said, looking away from Lithuania and pouting.

"Can't be," Lithuania said, "I mean, if it's bogus than I should know about it. I thought you said some of my ideas were 'totally bogus', too."

"So?"

"So I can deal with hearing about bogus things," Lithuania said with the tiniest of smiles. Poland still didn't respond. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Hey, is this about the pink?" he said, standing up, "Is this because of what I said earlier about the tape?" Still nothing. Lithuania pressed on: "Because you did fine taping the edges up. And I like the color. Pink is the greatest! It's a great color for the house. Look!" He went over to his paint tray and grabbed his brush. He began to swipe it back and forth across the wall, back and forth and back and forth. "See? I like it, Poland. I want the front room to be pink, just like you do."

"No you don't!" Poland shouted, bolting up to standing and facing Lithuania, "You don't want it to be pink! Liet, you never liked pink! Stop it!"

He didn't know what had just happened, but Lithuania's chest suddenly felt hollow. It was like something had just fallen away or dissolved, leaving an empty space. He stared back at his friend, expression blank. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. He opened it again, this time managing to squeak out a tiny "Poland…?"

The nation pointed an accusing finger at Lithuania. "You're just, like, lying to make me feel better! That's totally not okay!" he screamed, stamping his foot like a child, "I don't need you to, like, take pity on me! That's just stupid!" Poland shouted until his voice cracked and he collapsed to the ground, hiding his face in his hands. Lithuania remained frozen where he stood until he saw the blonde nation's shoulders trembling.

Slowly, warily, he stepped over to Poland, gingerly holding out his hand. "P… Poland…?" he whispered, "You ok?" When he didn't respond, Lithuania knelt down and put his hands on Poland's shoulders. "Hey, it's okay," he said, "Whatever it is, it's fine. Forget the paint, we can just repaint the wall whi—"

Poland leaned forward, cutting him off. He hesitated once, but then carefully wrapped his arms around Lithuania's neck. "H-huh?" Lithuania stuttered, "P-Poland, what—" The blonde mumbled something, but Lithuania didn't catch it. "What was that?"

Poland looked up and finally Lithuania could see his face. He wasn't crying anymore, but his eyes were a bit red. "…sorry," he muttered again, squeezing Lithuania closer, "I'm totally not good at saying stuff like this, so I thought, like, surprising you with the new color would make you happy?" His voice cracked again and his intonation turned up at the end, turning his explanation into a question. He bit his lip and Lithuania pretended not to notice he was trying not to cry.

Lithuania returned the hug. "The pink did make me happy, okay?" he said softly, "stop worrying about it." Poland didn't look convinced. Lithuania leaned forward and kissed his forehead, wrapping him in another hug. Poland remained silent, but this time it didn't seem like the bad kind of silence. They stayed like that for a long time.

Finally, Lithuania gently extracted himself from the embrace and got up to find some white paint. He had a hand on the doorknob to the kitchen when he felt a pair of arms around him again. Poland rested his head on his shoulder. "Can we, like, keep the pink?" he asked with a distant smile.

Lithuania sighed and turned around, sweeping the blonde into his arms again. "If you want to," he said, "I mean, it is your house, after all."

Poland leaned up and kissed him. It was a real kiss this time, sweet and loving and perfect. Lithuania kissed him back, running his fingers through his blonde hair and breathing in his sweet scent of fresh hay. It filled Lithuania with a warmth he had never felt before, something more than happiness that can only be called love. Their noses touched for a moment, and he felt a dot of wet paint stick itself to his nose. The kiss ended but they stayed where they were, foreheads touching and smiling at one another. Lithuania reached up and wiped away the paint smear on Poland's cheek with his thumb. "You're a mess."

Poland rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Let's finish painting."

"If you say so."

Poland gave him another short kiss. "Oh, and about the house?" he said, eyes smiling, "Don't forget it's yours, too, Liet, okay?"

D'aw so sweet :) I could so see Poland wanting to paint a room or two in his house pink, if he hasn't already. Thanks for reading, hopefully it was up to expectations!