After a late night of shopping, chatting, and watching movies with Italy at his home in Milan, Poland wakes up at six a.m. to the sound of an incoming call. He feels around for his phone for a moment and then, still lying on his stomach and cocooned in his blankets, picks up with a "…Hmn?"
"Pol?"
"Liet," Poland says, voice heavy with sleep, "d'y'know what time it is?"
"Yes, time for you to get up if you want to make your flight."
When Poland doesn't answer, Lithuania continues: "I said I would call to make sure you were awake. Are you up now?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yeah, 'm awake."
"As in, you're on your feet and not going back to sleep?"
"As in, 'm walking to the bathroom now."
"Okay. Text me when you get to the airport?"
"'Kay."
Poland hangs up and nestles deeper into his pile of pillows. He can have five more minutes of sleep, right?
…
Once his breakfast meeting is over, Lithuania pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks his texts. By now, Poland should have sent him several complaints about airport security and how tired he is. Instead, Lithuania finds only another one of those annoying spam texts allegedly from his bank. (He still needs to ask Estonia how to stop them.)
A knot tightens in Lithuania's stomach. Quickly, he redials Poland's number. Five rings go by before his friend answers.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, Pol, just hadn't heard from you yet. Are you at the airport?"
Silence.
"Poland?"
"…Oh crap."
"You fell back asleep, didn't you."
"I was tired, Liet!"
Lithuania sighs and rubs his forehead. He had a feeling this would happen.
"Is there another flight you can take?"
"I don't know," says Poland. "Italy? Hey, Italy, wake up—"
"I'll see what I can find."
While Italy wakes up and starts freaking out with Poland, Lithuania opens his laptop and loads Skyscanner. After a moment, he says: "Okay, I found—hey, listen, Pol—I found a flight out of Malpensa at eleven. It'll get you into Vilnius around one in the morning. There's a seven-hour layover—"
"What?"
"—A seven-hour layover in Riga, but I'm sure Latvia would let you stay at his place for part of that."
"I don't want a layover that long."
"That's the shortest one I could find."
"Can't I just wait until tomorrow?"
"Not unless you want to fly Ryanair."
Grumbling, Poland confers with Italy for a moment, and then says: "Fine. I'll catch the flight at eleven. As long as you ask Latvia if I can hang out with him."
"I'll call him as soon as we're done talking."
Lithuania stays on the phone until he's made sure Poland has booked the correct flight. Then, after talking to Latvia, he heads home for a nap. Without it, he'll never make it to one a.m.
…
The airport isn't far from Italy's home, and all too soon, he and Poland are hugging goodbye.
"Thanks for driving me," says Poland.
"Of course! I'm glad you found another flight. Come back soon, okay?"
"Totally. Hang on, let's take a selfie real quick so I can prove to Liet that we're here."
…
Lithuania's phone buzzes. He picks it up and sees a picture of Poland and Italy, followed by a text saying, We made it!
Lithuania smiles. Everything has worked out after all. Now he can take his nap and finish getting ready for his friend's arrival.
Then, he notices something strange about the picture. Squinting, he takes a closer look, and then promptly smacks his forehead.
Poland, he texts back with a long-suffering sigh, you went to the wrong airport.
A/N: Milan has more than one airport. Poor Poland.
This story is loosely based on something that happened to me a few years ago at the end of my semester in Rome. I booked a very early flight to Vilnius for the day after my last exam, but since I was so exhausted after finals, I overslept by more than two hours. :P There was another flight that day, but I didn't think I could make it in time. Besides, it was a little too expensive.
In the end, I never made it to Lithuania. Maybe I'll try again one of these days.