Author's note: 14 Days of (Hetalia) Love Tumblr request (mafiacarrots): « Can you write some LietPol for the 14 days of Hetalia please? » It's the comfort they have in their relationship that I love most about these two, that Poland doesn't think anything of Lithuania's constant panics, that Lithuania is no longer bothered by Poland's seemingly random whims. I went with that sort of a feel here.
After all these centuries
Toris does his best to not get too covered in dirt as he works in the garden, neatly planting rows of a flower Feliks had fallen in love with at the store. He trims the garden bed, pulls the weeds, then waters it all. As he rises the Lithuanian admires his handy work on one side of the garden, turning to see how Feliks was making out on the other side.
The Pole is laying out on the grass, legs and arms almost completely covered in a thin layer of dirt despite there being little of the garden done. He'd dug a few holes here and there but beyond that, it was still a mess.
Standing over him Toris only raises an eyebrow and Feliks, eyes closed but sensing his boyfriend, says, "Got bored. Gave up." Toris can only shake his head and roll his eyes.
The steam from the water feels incredible, Toris letting his hair down as he stands in the shower. He'd tried his best to not get a sunburn but being as pale as he was that was always an inevitable part of warmer weather; perhaps Feliks would inspect him later for any burns to massage lotion into.
Turning so the water beats against his back, Toris more feels than hears the Pole enter the bathroom, strip down, then join him silently in the shower. Without needing to open his eyes the Lithuanian reaches out and pulls his boyfriend close, hands running everywhere as lips demands.
Both men wearing Toris's clothing (sweats and big shirts), the brunet stands in the kitchen warming up pierogies as Feliks stands just behind him, chest pressing into his back, head on his shoulder.
"I love you," the Pole whispers every once and a while, arms wrapped around Toris's center; each time the man smiles.
As they settle into bed Feliks rolls atop Toris, kissing him passionately before pulling back to sit up, straddling his hips.
"Thank you, Toris," the blond whispers quietly, something serious to the way his eyebrows have come together, the sharp line his jaw makes like this.
"For what?" the Lithuanian asks, hands running up and down Polish arms.
"For not growing bored of me, even after all these centuries."
One of his hands moves to cup Feliks's face, Toris sitting up a little to whisper, "The pleasure has been all mine." It makes his boyfriend smile, just a little, and relax into him.
