A/N: So yeah, totally straying away from my usual fic type… First of all, this is a one-shot (unless I decide to make it a two-shot, or a series of one-shots, I'm not sure. For the moment, let's assume it's a one-shot). Secondly, I usually tend to stick to het pairings, so this is a little weird for me. Yeah… but anyways, these two are adorable, and they deserve love.

Note: the rum cake idea was slightly inspired from a friend of mine (who happens to be Lithuanian, and looks kind of like Lithuania…anyways…) of the time he said he ate it for breakfast, and was feeling slightly buzzed from it. : )

So here it is. LietPol one-shot… (crosses fingers for good reviews).

Rum Cake

Lithuania didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He had just painfully witnessed a tower of canned tomatoes, prior to which had been stacked pristinely on a shelf, cascade onto the floor, metal clattering and singing as it bounced off the tile. The culprit of the incident had a brief moment of shock; green eyes widened with panic, and then shrugged it off with a bout of boisterous laughter.

"Wow, like, my bad."

He let out a heartfelt sigh, cheeks burning at the sight before him: cans were scattered everywhere, dented, some still rolling across the floor. A few of them managed to spill their contents, strewing bright red juices and tomato chunks in their wake. The mess could easily make any employee here want to punch his friend in the face.

No. He was the one responsible for the blonde's childish antics.

"Po, I told you to be careful," Lithuania stated in a pleading tone.

Poland scoffed, wagging his finger and grinning. "Totally wasn't my fault. They, like, had to put the one we needed in the bottom of the stack." He held out the can in triumph, shaking it in front of the other country's face before dropping it into the shopping cart. It landed with a sharp smack, causing Lithuania to cringe. "Besides, it totally gives these people something to do! I mean, like, they must be dying of boredom. I would totally kill myself if I worked at a grocery store."

"You already gave them two other things to clean up," he protested and grabbed the blond by his sleeve, proceeding to drag him out of the aisle before they were discovered. "First the oranges, then that root beer, and now this."

With his free hand, Poland made a gesture for the Lithuanian to calm down. "Liet, you're kinda over reacting. Just chillax, everything is seriously going to be okay—uh-oh."

The brunette turned panic-stricken, "What do you mean, 'uh-oh'?"

"Um, I kinda-sorta think that can of tomatoes, like, crushed our eggs," he indicated, point down at their basket. Lithuania felt every muscle in his body tense, as if to prevent him from slowly inclining his head downwards to examine his friend's statement.

"Oh, Poland—" He slapped his hand against his face and squeezed his temples with his thumb and finger, but it didn't shield the sight of the gooey yellow substance oozing out of the egg carton. Lithuania allowed his head to fall down against the handlebar of the shopping cart. "This is why I don't like taking you grocery shopping."

The other boy flipped his hair, shrugging. "Like, gawd, you only ever take me once in a while, Liet. Besides, I totally have to get ingredients for the thing I'm doing tonight!"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I'm totally making dessert tonight!" exclaimed the blond. He watched as Poland fished into his pockets, and withdrew a piece of crumpled up paper. "See? It's my super awesome dessert recipe! You are going to seriously die from its fabulous taste. I, like, guarantee it."

The prospect of Poland cooking anything made Lithuania shudder. He recalled the last time the blond had attempted another one of his "super awesome recipes" and had almost burnt down the house. Not to mention the unspeakable mess that he had left…

It wasn't half bad though, if you ate around the charred bits.

"As long as you clean up after yourself," he sighed. Poland did a little skip, clasping his hands together and giggled.

"You are totally going to love it!" But this was hardly enough to assure Lithuania of anything.

"Hey Toris?"

"Yeah?"

"We, like, still need eggs."

Lithuania sighed heavily. It was going to be a very long afternoon at the grocery store.

xxx

CLANG

Toris sat up on the couch, peering up from his book.

CLANG

Yes. The noise was definitely coming from the kitchen. Despite comfortably settling down on the sofa with a good book after dinner, he probably should have opted to supervise the other nation in the kitchen. For the past half hour or so, he had endured hearing the odd noises coming from the closed doors, each one slowly wearing away at his anxiety. Lithuania shifted the blanket off of his legs, and swung them over the couch. He stood, and carefully tiptoed over to the door to survey the damage.

"Hey! No peeking! Like, seriously, get back on that couch!"

The Lithuanian sighed. Poland never was a particularly good listener, but he seemed to have supersonic hearing at the worst times. "Is everything alright in there?"

"Like, completely!"

Lithuania chewed on his lip, the worry already causing his stomach to churn, but it was useless to try and get any closer. The last thing he needed was Poland barraging him with wooden spoons and spice shakers. So the Baltic nation turned heel and sauntered back to his reading spot, which was still warm and snuggled back under his quilt before retrieving his book.

Thankfully, the noise died down considerably afterwards. Just when he was becoming engrossed in his book, he felt something prod him in the shoulder. His concentration torn was torn, and before he could even think to look up, he was hit with the strong, pungent smell of alcohol.

"Ugh," he exclaimed, wrinkling his nose, and caught sight of the offender—a slice of caramel brown cake drizzled in white icing that Poland had shoved in his face. "What is that?"

"It's rum cake, duh! You totally have had it before, right?" Poland waited for Lithuania to gingerly curl his fingers around the plate before letting go and scurrying back to the kitchen to retrieve his own plate of the foul smelling substance.

Lithuania eyes his slice with skepticism, "Yes, but, much did you put in here?" He had had rum cake a couple of times, and it was quiet tasty. But knowing Poland, there was probably more rum than actualcake.

"Well it's like rum cake, right? It only called for, like, a couple of tablespoons. But that seriously didn't seem like enough. So I put in half the bottle!" The blond answered cheerily, returning with a plate in his right hand and two forks in his left. He handed one of the utensils to the boy on the couch. "Here."

He accepted the fork and tried not to grimace as he stared at the cake: a small pool of liquor had formed around the slice, making it appear like a small island in the middle of the ocean. Meanwhile, Poland had already begun eating, shoving large forkfuls into his mouth.

"It's delish. Like, eat already," he commanded between bites, bits of cake flying like small projectiles as his punctuated his words.

Lithuania's face paled, and he sighed before lifting the fork to his lips, taking a small nibble.

Oh my—Lithuania nearly gagged on the first bite, which tasted entirely of rum. Poland stared at him, lip jutting forward slightly. The brunette forced a smile, and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just not used to the alcohol." The statement was not entirely false. He rarely drank more than a half-glass of wine with dinner, and that was only on special occasions. The last time he must have had this much alcohol was when he had been with Russia.

Lithuania forced the sudden, painful memories out of his mind, and put forth all his will power to the task at hand. He didn't want to experience the heaping amount of guilt that came with offending his one and only friend. Thus there was clearly only one option at this point: eat Poland's rum cake as fast as humanly possible.

"Eh?" Poland jumped when his friend began tearing into the dessert in a fury, the cake gone within under a minute. A widespread grin formed on the country's face. "I, like, knew it! You totally love it! I'll get you another piece." The blond snatched the plate from his hands, hips swaying back and forth as he sashayed back into the kitchen. Lithuania watched the mini-skirt clad nation in silent horror, urging himself not to cry.

Speaking of which, when did he change into that thing? Poland's strange cross-dressing tendencies had always perplexed him, but from what Lithuania could recall, he had gone out of the house in pants. "Why are you wearing that thing?" He called out.

"Eh? Do you like it?" came Poland's voice from behind the door. He emerged with another piece of rum cake, setting it down on the coffee table. Hands freed, he delicately picked up the edge of the fabric and did a small twirl. "It's, like, totally cute right?"

Yes, for girls—which you are not. Though I am beginning to doubt this, the thought bubbled to the surface of his mind and quickly dissipated. Lithuania didn't have the courage within himself to tell Poland half the things he felt most of the time. He picked up his cake, noting to eat it slower, and chewed carefully. Each bite burned his tongue, his mouth, and when he swallowed, he could feel the burning sensation creep down his throat. Though there was a small, sweet, pleasant aftertaste amidst the booze. It was probably the icing. In fact, the last few bites actually were starting to taste not as bad.

"I think I'll have another," said Lithuania. He held out his plate to Poland with a small smile. There was a warm feeling that was spreading in his stomach, and whatever it was, it seemed to get stronger with every bite of Poland's cake.

"Like, are you sure? You're kind of getting a little pink in the face." Poland then proceeded to poke him in the cheek, which felt somewhat tingly. Lithuania couldn't help but giggle.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's not so terrible after the first slice. Oops." The brunette grinned, trying to hide his smile. "I, like, didn't mean to say that. Oh look, I'm starting to talk like you. I was wondering when that was going to happen. I mean, practically spend all of my time with you, and you have this way of talking like a…a…"

"School girl?"

"Yes, that's the one!" He clapped his hands together and pointed at Poland, who stared at him blankly, "school girl. Gosh, you are right. Why are you so smart?"

Feliks smirked. "Liet, you really have a low tolerance, like, don't you?"

"What're you talking about?" he pouted. "I want another slice."

"If you insist," Poland disappeared once more into the kitchen.

"You dress like one too!" Lithuania exclaimed. Poland remerged from the kitchen, rum cake in hand. "But you're a boy. Why do you do that?" He took the cake from Poland this time, gruffly taking bites.

"Do what Liet?"

"Act like a girl, dress like a girl," he mused, and stared down at his plate, which was once again empty. Lithuania frowned, and with an uncoordinated thrust of an arm, shoved the plate back into his friend's hands. "More."

Poland shook his head, chuckling. "I seriously think you've had enough."

"B-but I want…more…" the brunette whined, lightly punching his comrade in the arm. "You're so mean."

"Oh my gawd, I cannot believe you got drunk off of two slices of cake," he snickered, putting a hand in front of his mouth. Lithuania let out a soft groan and closed his eyes, leaning back onto the couch while Poland set the empty plates down on the table.

"Three slices," he slurred, and let out a small yawn.

"Oh Liet, you were like, gone after that second one."

"Pff," he scoffed, and let out a few more giggles. "You still didn't answer my question."

"Is it, like, that big of a deal?"

"Not really," Lithuania hummed, eyes still closed. He felt the couch shift underneath him, and opened his eyes, watching Poland move from the opposite end of the couch to the middle cushion. The blond wedged himself against Lithuania's torso, taking up the small remaining space on that seat. "There's a whole other couch over there, y'know."

"I know." They sat in silence for a moment, Lithuania trying to process his friend's words with his heavily foggy mind. Poland shrugged, speaking up again. "I like, want to sit here, is that okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed. Poland shifted his weight again, his slender thighs settling down near the other nation's face. Lithuania jumped, feeling a tiny jolt of electricity shiver down his spine when the other boy's knee grazed his cheek.

"Since you came back from Russia's house…" Poland began, peaking Lithuania's attention. He sat up slightly, watching the other boy's face fall out of its usual cheery demeanor. "I dunno, Toris, you've been seriously distant lately. I just thought, like, maybe it would catch your attention or something."

"Well, if that's what you were going for, you were quiet successful," he noted.

Poland laughed, a small blush tinting his cheeks pink. "Not exactly, but like, glad to know it was working a little." He reached out, tucking a few stray locks of hair behind Lithuania's ear. Poland just barely brushed his skin with the soft pads of his fingers. Even after they left, Lithuania could feel the ghostly sensation of them against his cheek. It caused his breath to halt in his chest, eyes widening.

"And when I saw what he did to your back," Poland whispered, bottom lip trembling. He choked back his tears, wiping his eyes with the corner of his sleeve. "I like, wanted to kill him. Seriously—his capital would have totally become Warsaw. But I don't think that even he deserves that." He reached out again, fondly stroking the taller nation's hair, and let out a nervous laugh.

"I'm sorry, Po."

"Don't be," he sighed. Tentatively, the blond leaned forward, brushing away strands of hair and pressing his lips gently against Lithuania's forehead.

Warmth, stronger than any bite of rum cake could produce, spread deep inside of Lithuania's chest. His breath grew shallow, cheeks stinging with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. He watched Poland's glistening green quietly as he struggled for words, but the alcohol had slowed down all of his thought processing capabilities, thus rendering him speechless. The best he could convey his current feelings was to offer Poland a shy smile, to which the blond returned. He leaned down, and Lithuania craned his neck to humbly accept the second kiss, lips touching. In that moment, the fog in Lithuania's mind lifted, engulfed in the widespread sensation of little electric shocks that spread through his lips, to his chest, all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

Poland jerked away all of a sudden, frowning. "This totally isn't right. Like, if it weren't for you being drunk, we totally wouldn't be doing this." He ran a frustrated hand through his platinum blond hair, sighing.

Lithuania wouldn't have this. Alcohol or not, he wasn't about to let himself be separated from Poland again. He gathered what little courage resided within him, and sat up, closing in on Poland—

And kissed him on the nose.

"Aw, I missed," Lithuania whined, and immediately let his head fall down on Poland's shoulder. Poland, in turn, burst into laughter. "Don't laugh, s'not funny."

"I, like, told you were too drunk," Poland said between giggles and lightly stroked Lithuania on the back.

Lithuania groaned, "See? This is why I don't ever want to eat your crazy recipes." Lithuania lifted his head and waited until Poland's laughter died down. "Now I just want to go to bed."

"Then, like, go to bed."

"Come with me," he pleaded.

Poland sighed, "Okay. But like, I totally didn't finish cleaning up the dishes, FYI."

Lithuania rested his head again on Poland's shoulder, muffling his response of "I don't care." The blond nation rolled his eyes as he helped the other country to his feet, carefully guiding him up around the corner, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. Lithuania reached the bed first, wobbling as he kicked off his slippers and clabbered into bed. He rolled onto his back, eyes closed, feeling Poland reallocate himself on the mattress.

"Oh."

"Hmm?"

"You're still wearing that," Lithuania mused. He brushed his hand against Poland's skirt, exposing the soft skin underneath. Poland tensed beneath his touch, batting away his hand.

"Not until you sober," said Poland in a forceful tone of voice.

xxx

"Po?" Poland felt something shake him awake, what he soon realized to be Lithuania, who had curled up against him during the first few hours of sleeping.

"Hmm?"

"I-I'm sober now." Judging from the tone of voice and his stammer, Poland could safely conclude that Lithuania had indeed passed the alcohol out of his system.

"Yes, like, what do you want?" Poland asked, slightly annoyed from being woken up. He received a small whimper as a response. Poland rolled his eyes, running his hands through Lithuania's hair. Lithuania snuggled closer into his chest. "So that wasn't just the alcohol talking earlier?"

A long pause. "No."

Poland quickly rolled over on top of Lithuania, straddling him, foreheads touching.

"Like, good then," he grinned at his partner in the dark. Poland leaned closer, crushing his lips against Lithuania, and felt a pair of hands meet the waistband of his skirt. "Mmph, Toris?"

"Yes?"

"Can I like, make my super awesome dessert tomorrow too?"

"I don't think it should be a problem," he sighed. Poland felt him shudder at the trail of kisses that he carefully placed on his neck, down to his collarbone. "H-hey, wait a sec, you didn't clean up the kitchen, did you?"

"Nope," Poland sang.

"T-that means I have to do it, doesn't it?"

"Like, that was the plan from the beginning, wasn't it?" Poland cackled and Lithuania sighed. He kissed him gently, cupping the side of his face in hand. "But for now, like, totally don't worry about it." He heard Lithuania sigh again, but there were no complaints as he continued to kiss him…

"Toris."

"What?" Lithuania replied. Poland smiled, stroking the small of his beloved's back.

"I love rum cake." There was a long pause before Poland felt Lithuania's lips curve into a smile against his chest.

"I think I love it too."

Yay, it's, like, finished! So leave your thoughts in the review box thingy... if you dare. Criticism is welcomed!