Chapter Text
Lithuania finally worked up the courage to ask something that had been bothering him.
"Mr. America, why do you have a calendar with all these pictures of cats?"
"Oh, yeah, that’s from England… it’s a kind of long running joke we have going. I think."
Lithuania flicked through the pages. By the picture of the feline Mr June (a white cat lounging atop an improbably photogenic pile of laundry) there was a sort of poem.
He read:
Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open draw, empty shoe, anybody’s lap will do.
…
"That reminds me of Poland," he said without thinking.
America’s forehead wrinkled. “Cats?”
"Sleeping anywhere."
(Anywhere. Sometimes curled up like a cat, sometimes sprawled out inelegant. Especially when he was supposed to be working. In those cases, nigh impossible to wake. Always carelessly beautiful.)
"Hey, dreamer…"
Lithuania started; America was waving a hand back and forth in front of his face.
"You were miles away."
Yes.
"Ah... I’m sorry."
"Dude, nix the apologies already. You miss him, right?"