LietPol; Their first kiss, or how it could have been, or how I attempted to write Poland's point of view for once.
The sky's not especially blue - though when asked, centuries later, Poland will swear on the Holy Mary that it was spotless. It's grayish and the sun is setting, a thin pink line appearing on the horizon.
It's a windy day, but that's alright. From his position on the ground Poland can barely feel the chill, shielded by the tall grass.
"It's going to rain soon," Lithuania predicts as he picks himself up from the ground. Poland watches him lazily. "We should get back and get everything inside the house or it'll be ruined."
Ah, of course they should, Poland thinks. But the ground's super comfortable, and the dark heavy clouds shouldn't be over them for a few hours yet.
"... and start with the food," Lithuania continues. His expression makes the dried mud spot on his brow crack. "I'm thinking of a stew. We've been working hard lately, haven't we? We deserve it."
Poland loves stew, and he loves it even more when Liet's the one who cooks it. Onions and carrots and cauliflower...
"... well, the work was mostly me," Lithuania sighs. He probably thinks Poland isn't listening, but, oh, he is!
"Really?" Poland drawls, finally getting up and stretching. "Not true, not true at all! I've been doing plenty of work!"
"No you haven't," Lithuania says, deadpan. "We're both dirty, but I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who's sweaty."
"It's fine, Liet," Poland teases. He doesn't mean the next words that come out of his mouth - or he does, but he doesn't mean to say them out loud.
"I like you anyway, even when you're sweaty and gross."
Lithuania chuckles at that, and Poland's cheeks turn red. (Maybe not apple red, or beet red, or as red as the sky. Just a light red, or pink, blossom-pink)
"What's funny 'bout this?" Poland ask. He's not sulking, of course he's not - or so he will say later, because, how lame it is to sulk about something like that?
"You're funny," Lithuania smiles, and Poland's cheeks for sure are apples now. "I like you too, don't worry."
In a few centuries, or just in a few hours, Poland will wish he could have seen his own expression then, because it must have been amazing. Had to be, because right then, Lithuania looks at him thoughtfully, then leans down a plants a small kiss on his lips.
"Come on, let's go home."