Author's Note: Hello, it's Sarah and I'm here to warn you that the following material is absolutely horrid in every way. This is literally my "Oh wow I can't write anything decent so I'm just going to write crappy fanfiction" story. There will probably be a lot of mistakes and formatting errors but oh well, my friend Brit is being my beta for this so she'll fix it for me. Anyway, it's not done because gosh darn it, it may be my lazy writing but if I'm writing a fic then you know I'm gonna do a sex scene. But anyway, here's part one of my bad hetalia fanfic.
Hetalia Fic: Russia x Lithuania (M/M)
Yo, this is a yaoi fic so if it isn't your cup of tea don't read.
Not rated M in this part, mostly back story and really lame fluff.
(I promise there will totally be lemon later.)
From a Cold War
“Latvia, don’t touch that.” The small blonde nation looks up to his fellow baltic.
“But, this thing is so old , Liet. Wouldn’t Mr.Russia like it moved?” Sighing deeply the brunette sets up afternoon tea on a tray for his ‘Master’ Russia has adopted the idea of tea time from England. Although, Russia is still Russia and the tea is always served with a bottle of vodka off to the side.
“Latvia, please listen to Lithuania,” An older blonde enters the kitchen, pushing his glasses and crossing his arms. “He does seem to be Mr.Russia’s favorite,” a small smirk making it’s way onto his usually serious face. The lone brunette looks down, blushing, “You know that’s not true, Estonia,” he busies his hands by rearranging the china tea set repeatedly, “And besides... it wouldn’t make a difference if I were his favorite.”
“Well he does like it better when you do things for him! I think he really likes you.” Lithuania turns his head to glare at the smaller nation for his remark when he hears the familiar sounds of the front door opening and the light tapping of Russia’s boots. The three nations freeze on spot when he enters the kitchen from the main hall. The huge and powerful nation leans slightly on the door frame and glances down at the old coast one of this little baltics is currently holding. Lithuania follows his gaze until he realizes that Latvia never put the coat back. That coast is Russia’s absolute favorite. That’s Russia’s favorite and Latvia is letting it drag on the floor. He looks back and forth between the two of them, waiting for Latvia to come to his senses. He’s not moving though. He’s just clutching the coat and staring. Estonia, having been observing the same awkward silence, attempts to chime in with, “Oh, sir, how was your morning? I do hope you wer-”
“Estonia,” Russia mutters coldly, his body tired but his voice sharp as ever, “ Go away.” The blonde nods and backs off out of the kitchen, leaving Lithuania to try and reason with their master. The Russian pushes himself off the wall and takes a few intimidating steps toward the quivering blonde, “Why?” “Umm... I... just...” Latvia tries to explain himself but instead ends up just uttering a stupid apology.
“Really Mr.Russia... I’m sorry...”
“Oh really? Well then,” the taller natin leans down to Latvia’s face level, his usual ‘so pleasant it’s terrifying’ smile absent, “Why haven’t you put my coat back yet?” Lithuania, who had decided to stay quiet after Estonia was kicked out the kitchen, speaks softly to the surprisingly irritable Russian, “Russia, it was a simple mistake, he meant no rudeness by it.” The brunette walks to the other baltic, who is once again frozen, and takes the old coat from his hands.
“Latvia, why don’t you go find Estonia?” The smallest of the three looks up to Lithuania and is almost instantly comforted by the warm smile that had recently adorned his face. The nation hurries out of the kitchen, relieved to be free of Russia’s icy stare. Liet gently places the old coat onto it’s usual hooks and slowly becomes more and more aware of the large nations lingering presence. He hadn’t said anything when Lithuania interrupted like he did with Estonia; which doesn’t help the argument that Russia picks favorites. Russia doesn’t leave, he just watched the brunette move around the kitchen; not with the glare he had watched the others with though. When Lithuania looks up he makes direct eye contact with the larger nation who is now leaning casually against the wall. How out of character. A heavy blush tints Lithuania’s face as he realizes that Russia isn’t going to look away. He just keeps his stare steady, looking deep into those blue eyes that the smaller nation has.
“Russia, I have your tea ready if you would like it now,” Liet squeak out in an attempt to release this feeling that’s quickly filling the room.
“Liet...” The baltic looks up to his ‘Master’ to see him taking a few steps toward him, but not as harshly as with Latvia.
“Umm... you, sir?” he manages to stutter. Russia continues towards him though until he stands, practically a foot taller, right in front of the other nation. The Russian sighs heavily and slowly rests his head on Lithuania’s shoulder while snaking his strong arms around his waist. “R-Russia... are you okay?” Lithuania manages to ask, his voice small. Russia buries his face the crook of Liet’s neck and hums and answer. Unsure what to do, Lithuania tries to relax in the stronger nations arms.
“Mmmm... Liet... I don’t want to leave the house anymore...” He tightens his grip around the smaller’s waist forcing Lithuania to wrap his arms around his neck or have them pinned down. Still slightly uncomfortable with Russia’s new found affection, the brunette attempts to keep him talking so he can get to the bottom of this.
“Why would you say something like that? What about all of the other nations, like England or France or.... America?”
“Liet... America is the problem.”
The brunette’s eyes widen; Russia and America had always gotten along for what Lithuania knew. The larger nation doesn’t bother to explain, just keeps his face tight against Liet’s neck. “Russia... I don’t understand. I thought-”
“Well you thought wrong,” the Russian’s voice suddenly harsh and his arms tighten almost painfully around Lithuania’s waist.
“Ah...Russia...” Lithuania whimpers while wincing at the larger nations grasp. The blonde loosens his grip again, this time letting his hands fall to the side while gently touching Lithuania’s hips. He looks down, his face void of his usual glow.
“I’m sorry, Liet...” his voice quivers, “I-I’m sorry. I don’t... I don’t mean to hurt you it’s just... it’s just...”
“Russia...” Liet forgets any past fear he felt towards the man and brings his own hand to daringly caress his face. A stream of tears make contact with Lithuania’s pale skin. The brunette’s eyes widen; Russia had never been this honest with him, let alone openly weeping in his presence. Soon tears wells up and drip down the blonde’s face at a steady pace; every now and then a small noise slips between the tears. Gathered up courage and sympathy force Liet’s arms around Russia’s neck, pulling the larger nation’s head to rest on his shoulder. The smaller doesn’t speak at all; only because he honestly doesn’t know what to say that could ever help.