Now, for something a little different! Written for the kinkmeme: Lithuania/femPoland, at the battle of Grunwald. Granted, this is more of a 'after battle' thing, but writing extensive battle scenes isn't really my thing. Maybe someone else's.

Warning for weird prose, genderbending, het, Liet's awkward, and a little smut.

Victory at Grunwald

The tips of Poland's hair barely touch the collar of her armour, and her face is dirty with the mud and grime from the battlefield. Her lips are cracked and bloody, and so is the skin of her brow, but despite the smell and heat from the battle, she is grinning. Lithuania pauses and tears his eyes away from their defeated enemies to look at Poland. She isn't as pretty as he usually is, but she still is lovely in these unflattering garments, her hair cut like a boy's, and her dainty hands holding a rough weapon.

Lithuania feels guilty for thinking so. Poland isn't meant for battle. He has seen her, wearing dresses like the ones her noblewomen wear, light and happy. She likes to put flowers and braids in her hair and to walk in the fields and forests, holding his hand.

It is the same sun that shines on her skin today, but it looks different - rougher. Her smile is not quite as sweet nor charming, but a little bit mad and so very proud.

"We did it, Liet!" Poland's voice cracks as if she meant to whisper, but almost shouts instead. "That bastard's running away!" Her eyes are shining, and she's laughing. "Just like a dog, right? With his tail between his legs and all!"

"Yeah, we did," Lithuania smiles too, relieved. "We won." Poland turns and winks at him.

"Good job, Liet," she says, quietly. "But I really need to clean up, now. I feel gross, and you certainly look like it!"

Lithuania blushes brightly, but follows her to their tent.

;;;;;

"Help me take that thing off," Poland says as soon as the flap of their tent shuts behind Lithuania. "It's getting way heavy."

They made sure her armor would be lighter, but Lithuania flinches - both in sympathy and in worry - when the shoulder pieces come off, revealing a dark blemish on her neck.

Probably where that devil put his sword on her, Lithuania thinks as he removes his gauntlets. Poland's slight arms - although Lithuania notices defined muscle there now, unfeminine but graceful - shake with the emotions of the day. She sits down, and winces.

He crouches next to her, ignoring the impracticality of his own armour as he tries to detangle the ties of her breastplate, backplate, and placard. What can Lithuania say? She is hurt. He never wanted to see her that way.

"Liet..."

How can she bear to touch him? They couldn't find gauntlets that fit her and let her fight to the best of her ability, so she wore thick leather gloves. The gloves are gone now and her hands are calloused, cut and covered in dried blood.

Lithuania takes one of them and softly, carefully wipes it with a humid cloth. He should never have let her fight.

"I'm so sorry," he quietly tells her. "You're hurt. I was late. I'm so sorry."

"Liet..." she repeats, her voice soft, and he has to remind himself that she trained for it, she wanted to fight. "Liet, I'm fine. Promise. You did well, okay? So let me help you remove that. Let's get cleaned up, we're totally gross."

"But-," he tries to protest. She effectively shuts him up with a quick peck on the lips.

She chatters as she undoes his armour, her voice growing steadier and steadier. The shock and excitement from battle must be wearing out, then. She is starting to sound like the Poland he is used again, in all of her bright, cheerful glory.

When they are both undressed, he rises to fill up a basin with water. It's cold, but it'll do for washing.

Seeing the water pearl over Poland's skin and wash off the grime is satisfying, and Lithuania breathes in relief. By the time she is done washing his back, both almost naked, wet and shivering, he feels a lot more like himself again.

"Do you want a blanket?" he asks, looking around, at anything but Poland and the pale, delicate-looking skin of her shoulders showing through her undershirt, the only garment she is wearing now. "The water was cold, and you don't want to catch cold..."

Poland is grinning broadly. She shakes her head, hair sticking to her brow.

"Nah, I'm fine. I could get used to this!" she teases.

"Don't," Lithuania groans. "Today was much too stressful..."

"Hey, we still have to run after that bastard, like, tomorrow, first light. I'm so not letting you leave me behind inow/i!"

Taken by an impulse, he puts his arms around her shoulders and pulls her close to him. The water really was too cold, Lithuania scolds himself. He should have made a fire, warmed it up a little before washing her. But if she won't dress, won't let him put a blanket on her, he'll have to keep her warm some other way, won't he? This is normal, they've done this before.

"I won't. We'll go together," he promises. She still smells like the battlefield, but he doesn't mind. "Always."

"Yeah, you better," he can almost hear her smirk, but it's fond. She kisses his cheek just above a little cut that doesn't sting anymore. "How about we get some rest, huh?"

"We should," he says, dazed, but he doesn't let go. "I'm so tired, my head feel heavy..."

Poland sighs and relaxes against him, her fingers lazily drawing circles on his leg. He, too, is only wearing thin underwear, and Lithuania can feel the touch seconds after her fingers have left his skin. It tickles, and Lithuania's breath catches.

Suddenly, her lips are on his. He freezes, and his eyes blink open. He hadn't even realized he had shut them.

"Poland..? What..?"

She breaks the kiss and beams up at him from her position on his lap.

"We won, Liet!" she says. "I think we totally deserve a lucky kiss, don't we?"

Lithuania doesn't know what to say; the words feel like they're stuck in his mouth, jumbled, clumsy, unable to get out properly.

"Y-yes, sure? It would, huh, yeah, if you want to-"

They have kissed before, too. In the fields, in their bedroom; when they sealed their alliance. She even kissed him just days ago, reassuring him they'd be alright, "as long as we have each other's back, right?"

These had only been kisses. Friends kiss, don't they? Lithuania doesn't know of other nations in an alliance like they are, but he's pretty certain that's how things should be. The hold hands, sleep in the same bed, but their kisses are uncomplicated, soft and kind. Never more.

Tonight, in the quiet of their tents, Lithuania is very, very aware of Poland's body against his, in a way he never has been before. She is still shivering, despite the warm air of summer, despite his arms around her. Her nipples are poking through the thin fabric, and Lithuania can almost imagine she's wearing an old nightgown, about to settle down for the night. He blushes at the thought.

"Do you..." he starts to ask, but she cuts him off.

"Got night clothes in the corner, there. Help me put them on? I am so lazy right now, Liet!"

"I'm tired too, you know," he mutters. He is thankful for the distraction, though. He picks the one fur cloak Poland packed, along with more blankets, and hands it to her.

"I'll make a fire, too," he says, filling the awkwardness he feels with idle chatter. Poland is watching him, he knows she is, and his heartbeat shouldn't be this fast. "Just a small one. It's too cold for this time of the year, don't you think? Ah, we'll certainly sleep better if we're warm!"

"Sure, Liet," Poland throws the coat over her shoulders and makes a nest with the blankets. Lithuania.

They are quiet for a few minutes, silence only broken by the sounds of their knights still moving outside. "Liet?"

Lithuania hums in response.

"It shouldn't take this long to, like, make a fire, Liet."

He - quite stubbornly, maybe - still doesn't look at her.

"It doesn't want to start, Po."

She sighs, but still somehow sounds amused. Lithuania can't tell if it's a good sign.

"It's just fine, Liet. It's started, you don't need to set the whole tent on fire! Come here, come sit. Let's, like, rest. Please?"

She knows he can't refuse when she asks politely, of course. Lithuania thinks it's unfair how she has that advantage over him.

As soon as he sits, she presses against him again and kisses him.

"Why are you scared?" she murmurs against his skin. "We've been friends for like, years now. You know me. I wanna-"

"Don't," he cuts her off, embarrassed. "Don't say it like that..."

"But why?" she almost pouts. Determined not to let him slip away, she puts her arms around his shoulders, enveloping him in the immense fur cloak. "You aren't, like, afraid of hurting me, are you?"

"Don't be silly, Poland," he answers. Despite his best efforts, his voice sounds shaky to his ears, and he knows his face must be bright and warm now. "I'm not scared." A lie - he is, somehow. He wants to do right by her, she's his closest friend, and yet his thoughts are so different than what they should be in relation to her. "I just - I don't..."

He swallows.

"I've never done anything like that before, is all."

Lithuania is almost offended by her soft laughter.

"I-is that so wrong?" he asks, glaring weakly. "I like you a lot, but I'm not sure if we should-"

She covers his mouth with her hand, shaking her head.

"Liet," she says. "If you want to? You can just kiss me."

The way Poland's face is so close to his makes her request very hard to deny. Lithuania reminds himself that this is fine, they've kissed before. It's not he doesn't like her, not like he doesn't think she's pretty, even if she looks a little like a boy at the moment -

She moans, deepening the kiss, and that's something new. A feeling Lithuania didn't know he could ever have with his best friend courses through his nerves, his hands hovering on her shoulders.

"Can I... touch you?" Why does his voice sound so young when speaks? He's a man, he should act like it, not like some coward child.

"What?" Poland whispers against his cheek. Lithuania feels her chest moves with each breath and it makes him blush harder. "Are you, like, seriously asking me this?"

"I'm sorry for being polite," Lithuania tries not to sound too embarrassed.

"Liet..." she kisses him again, that same slow, intense new way, and Lithuania thinks he's quickly becoming better at this. "'m not exactly a lady right now. I don't mind, please, don't-"

Poland gasps, back arching. Lithuania winces a little when realizes his hands are probably cold against the skin of her neck - he didn't mean to startle her.

"I'm sorry," His fingers thread softly with the short blond strands at her neck.

"Miss your hair," he whispers. She's laughing at him, he knows she is, even if he can't hear it. He knows her well enough to know she probably thinks this is funny. "It's going to grow back, isn't it?"

"I don't know," she teases. The fire has definitely picked up now, and her hair looks almost red in its light. "I like it that way, don't you?"

"It doesn't suit you," Lithuania kisses the top of her head. "You look good with your hair in braids."

She hugs him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "You've never told me that," Poland says softly, and somehow it sounds different than it did before.

"Well, I think it does," Lithuania replies. He moves his hands over her back, as if to get used to the feeling of her skin. It's warm and soft, familiar and exciting at the time. He likes it.

Poland is almost purring against his neck, leaving a little trail little kisses to his ear.

"Liet," she repeats. "I'm, like, okay with this. If you wanna..."

Lithuania can't see her face, but he wonders if she's blushing like he is.

"I'm fine like this, Po," he answers. She sighs deeply, snuggling closer. "You don't have to..."

"I'm ready, Liet," Poland says, sounding determined. If it weren't for the tone of her voice, Lithuania would have thought she was acting on impulse again. "I've wanted... this, I've wanted this for a while. D'you want to?"

"You're lovely," Lithuania starts. He doesn't know how to say this, where to touch her. His hands settle on her hips. "And I like you a lot, I like spending time with you-"

"We were kissing, Liet," she cuts him off. There's something about the way she's been dropping his name all over that makes Lithuania feel warm. She lifts her head and kisses the corner of his mouth, then grabs his left hand, pulling it to her chest. He can feel her heart beating, its pace fast, like his own. "And I'm so not sleeping anytime soon."

"This will be new, and strange -"

"You're my best friend."

"I-I'll hurt you -"

"I trust you," her voice doesn't falter.

"Okay," Lithuania whispers. "Okay." One of his hands is still on her chest as the other rises up to her face. He kisses her, gently at first, and slowly pushes them both to lie on the floor. Her short hair spreads over the fur of the blankets, her undershirt riding up. The skin of her stomach is smooth and pale, unmarked from the battle and shining golden in the firelight, and Lithuania bends over to kiss it. She still tastes a little sweaty, but the skin there is even softer there than her back or her arms. Poland is still a girl - no, a woman - and if she wants him to treat her so, he will.

Lithuania pushes her shirt up, and as his hand cups one of her breasts, fingers lightly brushing over a pink nipple, Poland whispers his name again. Lithuania's lips move up to the other breast, gently kissing, tongue gently brushing over the small bud. Poland moans, the sound deep and low and Lithuania can already tell she won't be quiet.

"Tell me if it hurts," he says. His voice sounds almost indecent to his ears, inappropriate.

"T-take it off," Poland tugs at her underwear. "Please, Liet, I'm - j-just, like, take it off..."

He nods slowly, giving the delicate skin of her chest one last then carefully slips the clothing down over her legs. He touches her as he does so, her thighs and her legs, everywhere. Her hips are bruised and her knees are grazed, like they used to be when they played in the fields during the summer. His hands ghosts over them.

"I-is this okay?" Lithuania can feel the heat from between her legs through his own clothes.

Poland nods, but grips the collar of his shirt. "Take this off too, first, 'kay? All of it..." she giggles, the sound lazy and warm. "'s unfair, I wanna see you too."

Lithuania's face flares up, but he obeys. The air is still cool against his naked skin, and the warmth from the small body below him quickly draws him in.

His uses his fingers first, slow, shaking. Poland cries out a few times and Lithuania almost stops("No, no, please don't, it's way fine, it's way fine...") until she can breathe more of less steadily again.

"I-I'm alright now," she says after a few minutes - it feels like hours to Lithuania, but it might have been seconds, as if time isn't flowing right anymore. "P-please... g-go on, come here. You- you're too far."

"I'm kinda cold." Her voice sounds small, an odd blend of embarrassed and aroused colouring her cheeks and her words, and it's all it takes. Lithuania gives himself a few pumps and leans over her; he kisses her on the lips, and she grips his shoulder as he carefully enters her, mindful of their bruises and cuts.

She doesn't cry out, and Lithuania is grateful. Poland only clenches her eyes shut, then quickly relaxes and they start moving in a rhythm. It's comfortable, almost soothing, to have Poland like this in his arms and around him and Lithuania is amazed when he notices how fast the pressure has build up within him.

When he feels Poland clenching around him, shaking in her release, he can't hold on much longer and lets go, the stress and pressure from the day leaving him in waves.

"Ah..." Poland moans when he leaves her body, setting down on the blankets besides her. "That was... woa..." She's smiling, and Lithuania suddenly realises she had been smiling.

"I, huh, was it-," Lithuania hesitates. "It was good... for you too?"

Poland nods sleepily. "Thanks, Liet... it was, like... a way good day for that. 'm glad."

Lithuania kisses her temple, brushing back strands of hair where they have fallen over her eyes. He watches her as her breathing evens out in sleep. "I'm glad too, Poland. Thank you."