Finland had more in common with Estonia than either of the other two Baltics. They were both Nordic in culture; they had similar tastes in food and entertainment. (For one thing, they both enjoyed wife carrying.) However, while Finland liked to bake and occupy himself to relax, Estonia did not. He preferred to go out and do things, and Finland's love of puttering around the house was alien to him.

Lithuania, on the other hand, completely understood the compulsion. Had he not known both Estonia and Latvia, he would've assumed that it was a side effect of working for Russia. (The knowledge that it wasn't was an endless source of comfort.) It wasn't all baking for him, though. He smiled affectionately at the rag with which he was furiously scrubbing the dining room floor. After all, there was no sense in doing something fun but pointless to get rid of nervous energy when he knew that there was work to be done, work that he needed to do anyway.

He felt that twinge again. He hadn't mentioned it to Austria earlier, but he'd felt it in the office, too. (Of course, breaking the necklace hadn't exactly nominated him for king of subtlety.) If Austria was right, it was suppressed rage. Or fear, maybe. Of course, only one of those really made sense. He had no reason to be angry at Poland.

Two minutes later, it occurred to him that he was thinking that he should be afraid.

'Austria said to think about why I'm thinking it. That'll stop it.' Poland was never aggressive (except for that one time), he didn't yell, and he had never, ever hurt Lithuania.

The fingers tightening on his shoulder were hard and cold, bruising the raw, tender skin until – no. Focus on the problem at hand.

It was tempting to think that the problem had started in the kitchen, but it hadn't. Half the reason Poland had lost his temper in the first place was that he was losing patience with his friend's fear. It had obviously started earlier. Perhaps when he'd come back after regaining his independence…? No, that didn't make sense, either. He certainly hadn't handled it well, but it hadn't been anything new.

"Lithuania! Welcome home!" Poland reached forward to hug him, then stepped back as he flinched. He managed a weak smile, still trembling. "Let me – let me get your bags. Like, it's great to see you again!" He took the suitcases and backed inside, careful not to get too close.

Noticing that his scrubbing had slowed as he thought, he sped up, the minor lightness of the wood marking a tiny clean circle. It overlapped slightly with a dozen such circles along the wall. Wrinkling his nose slightly, he dunked the rag in the half-sudsy, half-filthy water in his bucket and wrung it out. It felt as if he'd been cleaning for hours, and while he appreciated that his newfound inability to concentrate was making him slower, it still irked him that he hadn't finished the room yet.

There it was again. Maybe it was anger. In that case, he would've felt it earlier than their first meeting after independence, which would explain a lot. He just couldn't believe that he was angry. It felt as though something as passionate and free as fury had to be experienced, had to barge down the door of one's thoughts and demand to be recognized. It wasn't something that could just sneak up and bother him.

"L-Liet?" 'Speaking of which…' He looked up and smiled gently at the blond nation.

"Hello, Poland," he whispered. (He didn't even know why he did that, though he knew that it irritated everyone else.) "C-Can I help you with something?" They both flinched when he stuttered, and the ensuing silence was appropriately awkward. Poland recovered first.

"I was wondering if I could help you with something, actually." Lithuania blinked confusedly. "That, for example." He gestured to the bucket as he spoke, and after he finished, the hand hung in midair for a brief, disconcerting moment.

"Did Austria suggest this?" (That strange directness again. He supposed that he'd picked it up from Latvia.)

"Yeah. Does that mean you don't want me to do it?" Even though it would get him out of work, he seemed anything but excited at the prospect.

"No, I… You know what? Sure. Can you refill this with clean water? I'll get you a strip of cloth from the bowl."

"The bowl? Oh, that bowl. That explains so much. I thought it was some kind of Lithuanian decorating thing." He cheerfully hefted the bucket and raced to the sink, splashing a (surprisingly) small amount of water on the way. Lithuania carefully got him a strip, unfolding it so that he wouldn't accidentally get the whole thing wet at once.

He returned with the bucket a minute later. Lithuania was surprised: he'd even remembered to put a little soap in it. Noticing the water on the floor, he was careful in setting the pail down.

'Of course, he's keeping at least a foot away from me. Probably doesn't want to scare me.' There was something bitter in the thought, but he pushed it away. Instead, he turned to his friend, who had dropped to his knees and was trying to roll up a pair of frilly pink sleeves. 'Why would he? – Oh, right. Poland.' It took almost a minute, but he managed to get the delicate ('Dear God, is that lace?') material out of the way.

"You ready?" The other nation nodded. "OK. Just dip a little bit of it in and wring out the excess, like this…" Poland nodded attentively, copying the motion when Lithuania was done. "Scrub in tiny circles, and make sure that you don't just brush the dust around. I'll deal with the corners. That part's pretty much done, so how about you head that way and I'll finish this wall?" Another nod.

About five minutes later, Poland heard something. It took him a few seconds to recognize it as quiet humming. 'Quit it, Poland. You're going to totally blow it!' He tried to stop, only to realize that it wasn't him. The tune was vaguely familiar, but it wasn't Polish. He glanced over at Lithuania. The other nation was working carefully, smiling his usual timid smile, apparently oblivious to the sound. Poland grinned and turned back to his work.

'Lithuanian folk songs? If Austria had told me about this, I'd've started helping him clean ages ago.'