I hadn't planned on continuing this fanfic either, but then I had an idea... So it looks like this will be a full story after all. Enjoy!
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Within the week Estonia and Latvia had joined Lithuania at Russia's house; they all had blushed and looked at the ground upon seeing one another, embarrassed to have been put back into this same situation.
But this living arrangement was different from the last few times Lithuania had lived with Russia. For one, Russia was dead serious about the Baltic nations speaking only Russian. If the freezing country was in ear shot of anyone when they spoke in their native tongue, he would cheerfully exclaim 'language!', as if he were a doting father scolding his children for swearing. If any of the Baltics were unfortunate enough to forget themselves and speak to Russia directly in their own language, then Russia responded the same way he did when he brought Lithuania home: a careless backhand that often sent the smaller countries to the ground, while Russia just smiled pleasantly and reminded them, 'remember, you speak Russian now, da?' Lithuania found himself translating for Estonia and Latvia while they struggled to regain fluency, a level Liet had acquired years ago. But soon he caught himself speaking Russian to himself and the others even when the frightful country wasn't around to notice, and when Lithuania dreamt in Russian for the first time, he cried.
The other thing that had changed was Russia himself. He had always sought to bring other nations under his roof, but now the desire bordered on fanatical. Whenever he faced a potential set back, he'd just smile and say 'do not worry; is okay. All will become one with Russia soon.' Lithuania suspected that this new belief was a direct effect from having Lenin and Stalin as Russia's previous and current bosses; although Liet had never met either of the men directly, he had mixed feeling about them. Well, about Lenin anyways—he knew Stalin was bad news, if the Five-Year Plans and Gulags were any indication. Not to mention the Great Purge. Thousands had died, and Lithuania could only hope that Stalin wasn't planning the same for his people…
But other than that, life progressed as it had previously at Russia's house. The Baltic nations mostly concerned themselves with cleaning and cooking and other such household chores during the day; when they finished they kept themselves out of Russia's sight as much as possible, unwilling to attract attention. The war kept Russia out of the house frequently, if not for several weeks straight then at least a few days, and Lithuania was profoundly grateful for the small respite it granted. Still, the war made Russia very unpredictable when he returned home.
The door banged open and Lithuania jumped, almost dropping the silver he had been polishing.
"Oh ho ho, Finland, you horribly clever boy! Cocktails to go with the breadbaskets! I never knew you had such a sense of humor!"
Following the imaginative cursing, Lithuania went to the kitchen where he found Estonia and Latvia cowering off to the side as Russia clumsily rummaged through a cabinet. Liet's eyes widened in shock when he noticed the charred black coat and angry red blisters over Russia's shoulder and upper arm, the obvious cause of his fury. He turned and ran for the first aid kit, knowing that they probably didn't have enough supplies for an injury of this magnitude. Upon his return, he saw Russia seated at the table, drinking straight from the bottle; when he had finished draining the contents, he dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor and reached for a second one.
Drunk Russia, not what they needed. "Russia Zimavich—"
Russia lurched, almost choking, gasping for breath. "Don't call me that!" he snapped, before raising the vodka to his lips again.
"Russia," Lithuania corrected, kicked himself for the slip. Russia never wanted to hear about General Winter. "Let me treat the burns. If you don't do something about them—"
"Tcha, I'm fine," the huge nation answered with a growl.
Lithuania stepped towards the table, cautiously. "Please, Russia. At least let me cool the burn. It will lessen the pain," he pressed gently, nodded to Estonia and Latvia, who took the hint and gratefully fled the room in search of towels.
"I am lessening the pain," Russia pointed out, child-like, brandishing the bottle.
The effect would have been somewhat more successful had Lithuania not known better. "Let me help?" he pleaded softly.
Russia's violet eyes flashed. "I don't need help," he retorted.
Crud. "Of course not," Lithuania recovered quickly. "But you are in a great deal of pain, and treating the wounds will make them heal faster."
The Arctic country made a displeased noise, but visibly relaxed; Liet realized this was as close as he'd get to a 'yes'. Estonia and Latvia reappeared at the doorway and Lithuania relived them of the armful of cloth they brought; they murmured 'good luck' when the eldest Baltic turned back to face the still drinking nation. As the cloth soaked in cold water, Lithuania returned to Russia's side and very carefully cut off the sleeve of the ruined coat. Then, steeling himself for potential backlash, he lightly peeled back the charred fabric from the burns, wincing at the gruesome sight, trying not to flinch as Russia stiffened, pain tightening his hands into fists.
Amazingly, they weren't third degree burns, just really bad second degree ones, although the size alone probably qualified them for major injury. Lithuania rung out one of the cloths until it was moist but not dripping, then gently, gently placed it on the burns. Russia hissed—Liet froze fearfully, but the wounded country made no further compliant, so he continued, covering the burn with a layer of cooled towels. He worked the better part of an hour in silence, switching the warmed towels out for cool ones while Russia continued to drink, albeit at a slower pace. Lithuania would have liked Russia to put the vodka away completely, but he was not going to push his luck.
"Does it feel any better?" he asked finally, putting the towels aside and opening the first aid kit. He would have offered painkillers had Russia not consumed so much alcohol.
"Da, da…" Russia answered, setting down the fourth empty bottle. He rolled his shoulder experimentally, wincing as he did.
"Let me wrap that," Lithuania said, turning back with gauze in hand.
Russia frowned. "You cannot wrap a burn. It won't heal."
"Left open, it will become infected. A loose wrap," the Baltic nation promised. Russia nodded, and Liet proceed to wrap the burn, again careful not to cause unnecessary pain.
"I'm lucky to have you here, Lithuania. You are very useful," Russia remarked cheerily, back to his normal happy self, the dark anger skillfully concealed.
"Um, thank you," Lithuania muttered as he cleaned up the medical supplies, realizing with a shock that the cold country had essentially just thanked him.
"Do not worry. I will make sure you do not have to patch me up again," Russia replied with a smile, and Liet found himself feverishly hoping that Finland was well prepared.
--
Finland was evidently prepared, as Russia's boss called off the invasion after three months of punishing winter combat. Russia appeared outwardly unaffected, but the Baltics knew better than to mention the incident.
Nearly a month later, Lithuania was washing lunch dishes in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Estonia and Latvia paused in their work as the eldest of the three dried his hands and walked towards the hall. Before he reached it, Russia swept past and Lithuania stopped, hiding himself around the corner and listening, feeling very much like a child.
The sound of a door opening.
"Privet, Germany! Thanks for dropping Poland off!"
Lithuania smothered a gasp, peeking around the corner cautiously. Russia step away from the door to let them in and Liet saw Poland, eyes to the ground, shoulders slumped—as if all life had fled from the boy. Stunned, Lithuania unconsciously stepped out into the hallway, mouth agape.
"I'll be back in four months," Germany said flatly, as efficient as ever, and dismissed himself.
Russia watched him go for a moment, and Lithuania could practically feel the displeasure rolling off the country's form. Then it vanished, pushed aside as Russia shut the door and turned to Poland.
"I'm glad you're back, Poland; I missed you. Pity you can't stay for longer, but you know how Germany can be." He shrugged, not truly concerned. "Make yourself at home!"
And Lithuania flattened himself against the wall as Russia turned and walked passed, pausing for a moment to look down at the smaller nation with cold eyes. "I expect no trouble from you, da?"
The Baltic country nodded furiously, trapped under the intensity of Russia's gaze. Then Russia smiled, chilling Lithuania to the bone, before heading to his office to call his boss.
Once he was gone, Lithuania looked back to Poland, who was still standing by the door listlessly. He crept over quietly, unsure of what he'd find.
"Poland?" he whispered.
Poland stirred, looking up blankly; when his eyes focused on Lithuania, he blinked. "Liet?" he croaked, voice weak from disuse. "Like, why are you here?"
Lithuania's composure broke and he rushed over to embrace Poland—good god, he was so skinny!—tears pouring down his face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered over and over, not certain for whom exactly he was crying, perhaps both of them. Poland just stood there mutely, letting Lithuania soak his thread-bare shirt.
Lithuania took a shuddering breath and quelled his tears. "What happened to you uniform?" he asked, belatedly realizing what a pointless question it was.
Poland answered anyways. "He took it." He didn't need to explain who 'he' was.
"Poland…" He wasn't sure he should ask, but… "What did Germany do to you?"
The blond just shook his head quickly, unwilling to say anything. "At least I'm here now," he said, with an air of relief.
"Yeah, but Russia…" Liet trailed off; they both knew what Russia was like.
"Living with Russia is, like, totally better than living with Germany," Poland stated firmly. The Baltic nation pulled back in shock.
"Better than with Germany?" he repeated in disbelief. He knew Germany was scary but, there was no way he could be that bad, right? "Well, let's get you to your room," he said, leading Poland upstairs to a spare bedroom, unfortunately close to Russia's. "Where are your bags?"
"I like, don't have any."
"What?"
"I just said, I don't have any."
"Well, where are your clothes then?"
"I'm wearing them."
"I mean, where are the rest of them?"
"I don't have any."
"How…" Lithuania trailed off, again disbelieving. He watched Poland walk over to the bed and sit down heavily, facing the window. Lithuania waited a minute or so, shifting uncomfortably when Poland didn't move.
"Um, I'll go get some of my clothes for you to borrow," he said, backing out of the room.
"Thanks," was the soft reply, so quiet Liet almost missed it.
He returned with a pile of clothes—he and Poland were about the same size, so that wouldn't be a problem—and Poland hadn't moved from his spot facing the window. Lithuania dumped the clothes on the bed and paused, uncertain.
"Well, I'll see you at dinner then, I guess," he said. Poland only nodded. The Baltic shut the door silently on his way out, convinced that there was something seriously wrong with his friend.
--
He started to get an idea of the problem later at dinner.
Russia apparently felt Poland's arrival was a cause for celebration, as he instructed Lithuania to make a 'proper dinner', which meant Russian hospitality, which meant pulling out all the stops. This had the horrible side-effect of putting Russia in the kitchen as well, overseeing the three Baltics as they spent the rest of the afternoon cooking frantically, the air tense as they tried not to mess up under the country's cool gaze. The constantly running stove made the kitchen stifling hot, but Lithuania still had chills whenever Russia would step up behind him to watch over his shoulder.
For appetizers, the table was laden picked vegetables, salad, meat pie with cabbage, salted herrings, smoked fish, borscht with rye bread, and red and black caviar served with blini and sour cream. With appetizers would be toasts—Russia was selecting the vodka himself, five different flavors, a number that made Lithuania worry somewhat—and when the toasts were finished, the Baltics would leap to their feet and clear the table before bringing out the main course: beef stroganoff, verenyki and kapusta (the latter possibly a nod towards Poland). And after that, tea, for probably an hour if not longer, accompanied by a desert of kovrizhka, ponchiki, kisel, and lemon semolina cheesecake.
Poland came downstairs just as Lithuania finished setting everyone's place, in order of social standing: Russia at the head of the table (of course), Poland to the huge nation's right (as the 'guest of honor'), Lithuania across from him, Estonia to Poland's right, Latvia by default next to Lithuania. While Lithuania didn't like the idea of Poland sitting so close to Russia, there was nothing he could do about it; at the least the new sitting arrangement put Latvia as far from Russia as possible.
Poland watched hungrily as Estonia and Latvia finished ferrying out food. "Are we eating now?"
Liet nodded. "Here, take a seat; we just need to wait for—"
"Everyone is here, da? Xorasho!" Russia exclaimed as he walked in. The Baltics all stood and greeted him out of habit and fear; only Poland resolutely remained in his seat. Russia didn't comment, but stood at his place and filled his glass.
"A toast!" he declared, holding up his glass. "To Poland, for coming to stay with us and brave the cold winter here!"
Murmured ascent and everyone clinked glasses. Russia tossed his vodka back in a smooth, practiced motion while the Baltics drank theirs with a touch more difficulty. Poland outright choked on his. Russia smiled slightly at this, a touch of superiority in his eyes; Lithuania could easily see what Russia just did, a cleverly disguised backhand about Poland's currently helpless situation. Liet cast a sideways glance at Poland to see if he noticed, but the slight blonde was piling his plate with food, more than he could possibly eat, oblivious to or refusing to react to Russia's jab.
About five minutes into the meal, Russia caught Liet's eye and the smaller nation inwardly sighed. This was why he hated 'proper' dinners. Making sure his glass was again filled with Russia's drink of choice, he lifted the glass.
"I offer a toast. To good health; may we never lose it," he said with a meaningful look at Poland. He then nudged Estonia under the table, prompting him to give a toast as well. Tradition stated that each guest present give a toast—something Russia strictly enforced—and until everyone had toasted twice and collectively emptied a bottle of vodka, the main course could not be served. Lithuania was grateful that it wasn't a party, where everyone toasted multiple times until all the guests were quite drunk; the toasts tended to get rather ridiculous at that point. At least there were only five of them.
After Latvia toasted to a kind winter, at which Russia outright laughed, all eyes turned to Poland. The blonde finished his caviar and sour cream stuffed blin before he took up his glass.
"To Russia," he said, squarely meeting the man's violet gaze. "For like, totally letting me stay with Germany."
The Baltics jointly smothered a gasp. Evidently Poland had noticed Russia's slight, because he responded with one of his own: he implied that it was through Russia's choice that Poland was partially under Germany's control, when in reality the huge nation would have preferred to have Poland to himself. But Russia wasn't strong enough to demand all of Poland from Germany, hence the treaty.
Russia's eyes glittered dangerously, but he merely nodded once, raising his glass in salute before he down its contents. Immediately he refilled his glass.
"To camaraderie, that we all might be joined under the same goal." A promise that Poland—along with everyone else—would truly be his one day.
A few minutes later Russia started the second round of toasts with an appeal to peace—horribly ironic, all things considered—and when it came to Poland's turn Lithuania was worried that Poland would take the bait and respond with something else inflammatory, but the blond mumbled something about future harvests, the fire in his eyes dulled. Then they switched to the main course, and to Lithuania's surprise, Poland inhaled kapusta and several vernyki before he even slowed, finally stopping outright with a half a bowl of beef stroganoff left. Liet watched out of the corner of his eye as Poland sluggishly put the spoon down, staring unfocused at the table.
Abruptly, the country leapt to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor in the process, and bolted for the hallway. He had just reached in when he fell to his knees and retched, losing the entirety of the meal he just ate. Lithuania stood, concerned, but Russia put a hand on his shoulder and gently forced him to sit down.
"Do not worry, I will handle this," Russia said amiably.
Liet twisted in his seat to watch Russia approach the hapless country and kneel down next to him, placing what was meant to be a comforting hand on his back; the smaller country visibly flinched.
"There, there, Poland. Has Germany not been feeding you again?" the huge nation asked. Lithuania's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He thought Poland just had too much to drink! Germany was starving him?
Russia helped the smaller country to his feet, and seeing Poland clinging pathetically to Russia for support stirred a quiet fury in Lithuania that the Baltic didn't know he possessed.
"Come, I will put you to bed. You need rest," Russia said, leading the staggering country towards the stairs. "Please continue without us; I will be back momentarily," he called over his shoulder as he left.
They listened as their footsteps faded up the stairs before casting uneasy glances at each other.
"Will he be okay?" Estonia asked uncertainly.
"With Russia, I don't know…" Lithuania muttered. Standing, he retrieved a rag from the kitchen and cleaned up the floor. Oh Poland… The Baltic wasn't sure what Germany was doing to his friend, but all he could do now was try and repair the damage. He just hoped that Russia wasn't causing more damage; Liet wouldn't put it past him to the take this opportunity to 'discipline' Poland for his backtalk during dinner…
"Sorry for the delay!" Russia said as he returned. Everyone automatically gave him a once-over for blood and found none, to their relief. The Arctic country went to his seat and immediately reached for his glass.
"To his swift recovery!" he pronounced, nodding in the direction of Poland's room.
Lithuania knocked back his shot, grimacing at the burn. He would drink to that.
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I hope you like the continuation~! Please review and let me know!
Countries move into their conquerer's house, but Poland was taken over by both Germany and Russia. So, visiting rights, kinda.
'Cocktails to go with the breadbaskets!'- The Molotov cocktail is actually a Finnish invention. During the Winter War (which Russia lost spectacularly; look it up, the number are insane), the Allied nations were suspicious of Russia flying planes over Finland. The then current Prime Minister Molotov said they were dropping breadbaskets to counter the food shortages. In reality, they were dropping bombs. The Finnish people, vastly outnumbered, created simple incendiary devices designed to take out tanks and called them "Molotov cocktails" to go with the "Molotov breadbaskets", their nickname for the bomb casings.
Yes, I'm dead serious about the traditional Russian way of toasting. I'm Russian, and I've seen it.
New Russian vocab for this chapter:
Xorasho- good
(My apologies for the long author's notes/explanation.)