Title: Persistent
Author: tatterdemalion; grosse_averse on livejournal
Characters: Lithuania, France; Lithuania/France with I guess implied Commonwealth!Lithuania/Poland
Rating: M, though nothing too graphic. Overuse of the word "fuck"
Summary: For prompt #32, "Linger". Also for PuffietheInsane - sorry I took so long :) (and also the fact that it is short as fuck). France likes to find things that other countries try to hide.
France liked Lithuania. Not in the way he liked England (with grudging admiration), or Canada (with overzealous affection), or even America (who had his good points - the memories of Revolutionary America were enough to make France weak in the knees), but he liked Lithuania all the same. The boy was shy, and quite mild - years of being in the shadow of the USSR had conditioned him for servitude along with his equally-shaky brothers. But France had heard stories, yes he had, of a greater, more feared Lithuania, and he had been waiting years to see a spark of that former glory in the boy's eyes.
Nothing so far, but France had been told by countless others that he was persistent beyond normality, so he figured he could set it in motion.
He lingered at the end of the World Meeting - England pushed past him with a grouchy order to "move his arse". Canada offered him a wave before disappearing out the door with the Netherlands. Even Russia said goodbye to him, moving in his lumbering way, quickly before Belarus could reach him in the crowd of exiting nations.
Lithuania was collecting his papers, having spoken about his economic situation earlier in the meeting, and once everyone else had gone France leaned against the table, watching the brown-haired youth stack, fold, and arrange.
Lithuania looked up at him after a while, brow creased slightly. "Hello, France?" he asked. "Was there something you wanted?"
France shook his head, smiling. "No, not at all!" he replied. "Please, carry on." Lithuania returned to his work, albeit a bit more hesitant. He absently tucked a strand of hair behind his ears, and quickly closed his briefcase. Straightening up, Lithuania sent him a small smile.
"Have a good afternoon, France." he said, before hurrying towards the door. "Tell me," France raised his voice so it carried across the meeting room. "How many people did you kill for your Commonwealth?"
Lithuania turned his head slightly, hand on the door handle. "Ex-excuse me?" he laughed, lightly. His shoulders stiffened. "I'm not quite sure what you...."
"When you and Poland were married, right?" France lazily kicked his chair aside, drawing a bit closer to the other nation. "I heard you two made quite the team. What happened?"
Lithuania gave another little laugh, half-turning to face him. "You should really read up on your history, France!" he said gently. "You were around at that time, after all."
"I may need a few refreshers." France agreed, slipping his hands into his pockets. "But you and him - did you fight well together? Why did your Commonwealth fail?"
"It..." Lithuania seemed to be struggling with words. "There were a culmination of factors - "
"Was it your fault or his, I wonder?" France tilted his head, regarded Lithuania lazily with half-lidded eyes. Colour appeared on the smaller nation's face.
"I really have to get going." Lithuania insisted. France closed the distance between them, put a hand on the door to keep it closed.
"Why is it," France murmured in Lithuania's ear, lips brushing the shell, "That such a once powerful country could be reduced to such a passive mess?"
"France." there was a bite to Lithuania's tone, and France reveled in it. Lithuania's hands came up and pressed firmly against the blonde nation's chest.
"Lithuania." France echoed, a smile on his lips. "You haven't answered my question."
The shove he was given was surprising; France went stumbling away from Lithuania, regained his footing with help from the conference table, which he grabbed in one hand. Lithuania glowered at him, fists clenched by his side.
"I would thank you," the brunette ground out. "Not to say things like that. They're not polite."
"I suppose your Commonwealth was very polite as well," France mused, leaning back against the table. It took his weight - that was good. A nice, sturdy table. "Tell me, since Poland's name came first, did that mean he was the one fucking you - ?"
Ah, that's why sturdy tables always come in handy. Lithuania lunged, grabbed France by the collar of his shirt, slamming the blonde nation's lower spine into the table edge. France winced. Ouch...
"Just because you can't stop fucking your neighbors doesn't mean the rest of us follow your example." Lithuania snarled, a frown marring his usually placid face. France leered at him.
"I hardly think," he mused, ignoring the dull pain in his back. "That such pretty countries such as yourself didn't indulge in a little pleasure once in a while during your "marriage"..."
France could tell they did, of course - Lithuania's anger and embarrassment were displayed clearly on his face, feelings that he could read easily. Like England when he was thoroughly sloshed.
Lithuania glared, but France could see the anger disappearing again, shriveling up behind those green eyes, dimming and withdrawing.
France couldn't have that."I think," he remarked airily, "That since you enjoyed taking land so much, you would have no problem fucking Poland..."
Lithuania slammed him again against the table. "France." he warned. "Stop."
"Why?" France questioned. "I merely want to hear of your adventures. I want to know what happened to you, what happened to that little fighter I heard so much about."
"Time." was Lithuania's answer. "Time, and change. Surely you must know a little bit about that, France. Did you ever think, when you were looking your Napoleon in the face, that you would be on your knees in front of Germany a century later?"
That stung, more than France liked to admit. He wondered if Lithuania noticed. The brunette was breathing hard, teeth bared. In the quiet of the conference room, France could only hear their breathing. Their faces were inches apart, and the death grip Lithuania had on the other's collar had yet to be released. His other hand gripped the table edge, and France nudged it with his hip.
France grabbed Lithuania's jaw in one hand, tilting it so he could see those angry eyes. "Show me." he cooed. "Show me what you did when you were king. When you had all the power and no one could take it away from you."
So Lithuania did. It was uncomfortable, but France had had worse fucks - the wood of the conference table was grainy, so he didn't slide easily across the top when Lithuania slammed into him, lovely brown hair falling around his face, mouth set in a grim line. France lifted himself up to kiss that line soundly; Lithuania did not relent to the kiss, just gave another thrust of his hips that sent France's vision into annoying spots.
France could not pretend that he was well-liked by the other countries - he knew what they thought of him and, frankly, he didn't care. But one thing he did know was that he had the special talent of getting under their skin, of stripping away their facades until he saw what was truly underneath. France knew all about facades, knew all about the decades in which he dressed himself in the finest silks and swaggered with the noblemen and pretended his people weren't crying for help. He knew underneath he was a bastard, and he knew that underneath, most other countries were too.
The unexpected fire he had uncovered in little Lithuania was no different from the others. France knew that, after this was over, after Lithuania had buttoned up his trousers, maybe apologized for his sudden lapse of judgement and left the room to return to his home, France knew he would linger in Lithuania's mind long after they had left.
France was nothing if not persistent.
Notes: Lithuania was pretty kick ass back in the day (NOT THAT HE ISN'T KICKASS NOW!) Hahaha, I like how I'm writing about the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth when I know squat and Puffi knows a ton. Bad move, man. Bad move.
I suppose this seems really out of character for Lithuania, but he did have that whole other side of him before he became "Russia's lackey", which is the role everyone likes putting him in. I just thought that maybe, when pushed, Lithuania can get his freak on too.
I bet France hardly cared about the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth because he was too busy fucking/fucking with/fucking up/being fucked by England