"You, uh...must really like cleaning."
Hmm? I had gotten distracted while scrubbing America's floors. Despite even the smell of the ammonia, I could smell Canada from his hoodie. I had been trying to figure out what he smelled like. I think I had settled on pine trees, rain, wood, and maple syrup.
I hadn't noticed I had already gotten all of the maple syrup from the floor. I had been useless cleaning the same spot for probably a good ten minutes.
"Ah, well, it's sort if a nervous habit," I explained. I draped my cleaning cloth over the edge of the bucket. I picked up the bucket full of dirty water by the handle and carried it over to the sink.
Why did I have to say that? I wasn't nervous now, was I? I really had no reason to be. I glanced over my shoulder to look at Canada's back. His undershirt was thin as it stretched across his shoulders. The fabric strained as he was stirring the pancake batter.
His head turned halfway as he looked back at me. I quickly looked back at the sink and the swirling water.
"Ah, I meant to ask...what kind of pancakes do you want?"
"Round ones." Why on Earth did I say that. That was a stupid, stupid answer.
Instead of being mocked, I heard Canada's soft, gentle laughter. It didn't sound at all biting or harsh. It was actually surprisingly nice.
"That's not exactly what I meant. I should have asked what you want in your pancakes. But I'll be sure to do my best to make them as circular as possible." He chuckled a bit at the end.
"Oh, you don't have to make any special for me. I'm really not sure what goes in pancakes anyway. We don't really have them where I'm from."
"Then you really have to try some. There's not going to be any left once America is done. There's all sorts of stuff you can put in pancakes." Canada poured a bit of the batter onto a hot griddle. The thick pale liquid hissed from the heat. "There's blueberry, chocolate chip, apple, banana, peanut butter, potato, bacon..."
"Bacon?" That ingredient seemed a bit different than the others.
"Yeah, America has the weird obsession with bacon. He thinks that it makes everything taste better. It's actually not too bad if you ignore all the fat clogging your arteries. Though he says I don't use the right bacon most of the time..." Canada slid the spatula under the pancake and flipped it over, revealing a nice golden color. "Anything sound good to you?"
"Uh, the chocolate chip sounds nice. If it isn't too much trouble..." Chocolate was a rarity in Russia's house. It'd be nice to have a treat like that before I had to go.
Canada smiled. "Good choice."
He took the pancake off and set it on a plate. He poured more batter onto the griddle. This time he sprinkled in a handful of chocolate chips. I watched intently over Canada's shoulder as the chips began to melt into the pancake fluffing up around them. He flipped it over, revealing another side of perfect gold with flecks of dark brown chocolate. It smelled mouthwatering. My eyes followed it as he put the pancake on another plate.
"Do you want to try?" Canada asked. "It's pretty easy."
"I don't know..."
"Come on! It'll be fun!" He stood to the side so he was halfway facing me and waved me over.
It was like he had a strange power over me. Before I knew it, I was over by the counter, hands shaking as I grabbed the bowl full of batter.
"Careful, it can be a bit heavy." I didn't expect his voice to be right at my ear. The bowl slipped in my hands, causing a bit more batter to fall out than I intended. I regained my grip and set the bowl out to the side.
I took a deep breath. I couldn't mess this up, not with him right there. I just needed to ignore the fact that his soft, close voice turned my limbs to jelly. Was this when he usually flipped it? I wedged the spatula under the pancake.
"Ah, I don't think it's quite ready..."
It was too late. My hand spazzed and the pancake tore, folding over on top of itself. The underside of the pancake was barely any darker than the batter.
I wiped my wrist across my forehead. "I'm no good at this..."
"It's not so bad." Canada took my hand gripped on the spatula and guided it back under the pancake. He managed to unfold it and get it cooking on the other side, crack face up.
He let go of my hand, and I set it back down on the countertop. I let go of the spatula and gripped the edge. I think I was going to be sick from embarrassment.
"Hey." I looked up to Canada. He was leaning on the counter at my side. His finger reached out and swiped the tip of my nose. It was cool and wet from pancake residue. "Don't sweat it. Nobody makes a perfect one on their first try. England still can't seem to get it right."
I could feel myself smiling a bit. Why did he have to be so sweet? My fingers still had a bit of batter from the bowl. I drew two streaks on his cheeks right under his eyes. They closed at my touch. When he opened them, he gave me a beautiful shy smile that sent my heart racing. What was happening to me?
He started to lean closer. Suddenly, he turned his head quickly towards the griddle.
"Oh!" He reached around me to grab the spatula and scrape the pancake off. Little charred bits were left behind.
"I'm so, so sorry!" I could feel my face going red.
"It's really okay, Lithuania," Canada said as he scraped the bits to the side. "It's not that burnt. You just need a bit more practice, that's all."
"I think I should just let you handle the rest." I twisted my fingers into my hair. I can't believe I messed up again.
"You got a little something..."
Right. Of course. This was just great. I still had batter on my fingers. And I had just got that all in my hair. I quickly got my hand away before I could cause any more damage.
I froze as Canada's hand was at my face. My cheek became hyper-aware to his touch. His thumb swiped up. He frowned and continued to rub at my face some more.
I couldn't help but laugh at Canada's expression. "You just made it worse, didn't you."
He smile sheepishly. "Maybe. Sorry"
His hand lingered for what seemed like an eternity. And it felt like it should. Canada's eyes shifted around. He looked down and broke contact.
I must have been weird. I looked down as well. "I think I'll go... clean up a bit."
"O-okay." He went back to pouring more pancakes as I ran off to the shower. Maybe the water would calm me down.
America stared intently at his ridiculously large stack of pancakes. He lifted the bottle higher and slowly slid back the opening. The thick caramel liquid crawled down and over all the pancakes. He really did have a colorful plate. There were all sorts of fruits and pancakes piled on top of each other. Once he was satisfied, he placed the syrup back on the table.
"Have I mentioned that you're the best brother in all of existence?" America asked. He picked up his fork and stuffed a whole pancake in his mouth.
"It may have been mentioned a few times," Canada said. "I sure wish mine would stop acting like such a pig."
I held back my laughter, but it came out as a weak cough. Canada gave a little smile. "Would you like some syrup, Lithuania?"
"You can use it first." It was closer to him anyway.
America took a break and scooted the bottle towards me. "You better get it now. If Canada gets it, there won't be anymore left," he said with half of his food still in his mouth.
"America!" Canada's face went a light shade of pink.
"What? It's true!"
I took the bottle and poured a bit over my chocolate chip pancakes, just enough that a little was pooled on the side of my plate. Canada sat across the table from me, so I reached to hand the syrup to him. His fingers barely grazed mine as he took the bottle. My breath took a slight hitch. I thought I had gotten over this. It wasn't like he was touching my face like before.
Turns out that America really wasn't exaggerating. Canada poured the rest of the bottles contents over his pancakes. Canada caught me staring at him and went a little red. God, I was making him feel awkward again.
I forced my attention on the pancakes. They looked really good. I picked up my fork and cut a piece off.
It tasted like heaven. Warm and unbelievable sweet. I tasted the chocolate delicacy. If I died right now, I think I would be happy. I looked up to find Canada looking at me.
"Did you like it?" he asked. His lips curled up in a half smile.
"This is quite possibly the best thing I've ever had," I said.
"Yeah, Canada makes the best pancakes. But wait until you've had one of my burgers! With the bacon and the American cheese and..."
I really didn't hear much of what America was saying. Most of his words were muffled by half-chewed pancakes. I ate slowly, trying to savor this as long as possible. But then they were gone. All of the pancakes in America's house were eaten up. My eyes started to sting. I had gotten just a taste of such happiness, and now I had no reason to stay.
"Lithuania, are you alright?" I heard Canada scoot back from the table. There was concern in his voice.
I wiped at the tears on my face. "It's nothing, really. I just..." I forced a little smile on my face. It wavered and shook. "I've got to go. Russia will be wondering where I am." I got up and gathered my cleaning supplies. I got to America's front door before I turned around.
"I guess I'll see you around."
"Yeah, see you, Lithuania," America waved, food coma already setting in. He didn't even bother to lookup. Canada still had the same look of concern, but didn't say anything.
"Thanks for the pancakes, Canada. They were really good," I managed to say without my voice catching.
I went through the door quickly and headed back to Russia's house. As an afterthought, I wondered what happened. Not a single pancake had been left over. Whatever happened to the scarred and burned pancake I made? I shook off the variant thought from my mind. It was best to shake off all feelings now. It would make it less painful.