Ivan barged through the front door, an absolutely frigid wind accompanying him into his residence. Ice crystals clung on to the ashen blonde locks that were plastered to his forehead and what looked like dried blood covered his right cheek. The same blood was spattered in a disgustingly large amount all across his long coat that identified him as a high-ranking member of the Red Army.

As the huge man made his way to the kitchen, Toris, who was relaxing on the couch and sipping tea, caught a glimpse of Ivan in his bloodied and dishevelled state. His stomach began to roil when he noticed the blood that had soaked into the thick fabric. Toris didn't say a word to the man, as he had also noticed the cold and only barely controlled fury behind the other's violet eyes. He listened carefully to the sound of Ivan practically ransacking the kitchen in search of vodka. He heard clinking as Ivan grabbed a bottle of his favourite beverage and briskly proceeded up to his study, the stairs emitting creaky protests as he so.

Most every day this happened, and it was all because of this godforsaken war. Ivan would spend the rest of the evening in his study, usually only coming back down long after Raivis and Eduard had retired for the night, but Toris would still be on the couch, sipping what would probably be his fifth cup of tea.

This night, like how every other night had been, Ivan came back downstairs with his bloodstained coat draped over one arm as he approached his Lithuanian subordinate. Ivan removed the coat from his arm and thrust it into the smaller man's face, a smile upon his own face that managed to somehow be both knowing and malicious. Toris gingerly took the coat, doing his best not to hold on to any of the bloodstained parts. Ivan turned on his heel and walked away, and as he did, he tossed a few words over his shoulder.

"You will have it clean for tomorrow, da?"

Toris nodded, even though Ivan had his back to him. The Lithuanian carefully inspected the coat and could only begin to imagine exactly how many hours he'd have to stay up in order to get all of those revolting stains out of the bloodied garment. Usually, it would take him a good few hours at the kitchen sink to scrub the blood of unknown strangers off of the coat.

The task was disgustingly tedious enough as it was, not to mention the fact that Ivan would make sure that Toris completed his work alone by passing him the coat only after the others had gone to bed. He'd also rather not know why Ivan always had that malevolent gleam in his eyes every time he handed the other his ensanguined coat.

A few hours later, when tiredness had long since crept into Toris's eyes and night had long ago settled across the snowy Russian fields that lay outside, the coat was finished. The Baltic nation wrung out the coat as best as he could, glad to be finally done for the night, and that maybe he'd be able to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before dawn. He hung Ivan's newly cleaned coat up to dry and then dragged himself to bed. He fell asleep fully clothed.

Ivan sat, still in his office, even when it must have been about four o'clock in the morning. He was supposed to be getting paper work done, but he found it much more entertaining to listen to the sound of his little Lithuania downstairs. Ivan sat back in his chair, smiled and thought aloud.

"I wonder if I should tell Litva that it's Polsha's blood he's cleaning out..."

My first attempt at something slightly dark. At least, darker than my previous fanfic...
I decided to use mostly human names for this, once again, although I added Lithuania and Poland's country names in at the end (well, the Russian version of the names). In case you're not familiar with countries' human names...Toris is Lithuania and Ivan is Russia.

So...the idea behind this is that it's WWII, when Germany and Russia (then called the Soviet Union, or the USSR) both occupied Poland and pretty much beat the living crap out of it. Polish territory was divided among the two of them. Poland's currency was removed from circulation, many Polish language books in schools were burned, the culture in general was repressed.

At least, that was what happened in the Soviet-occupied part of Poland. The German-occupied part was pretty much hell. Well, if the Soviet-occupied part wasn't already. Many of the concentration camps were built in Poland. Among them, Auschwitz, one of the most well-known and most brutal camps. If you were Jewish and lived in German-occupied Poland, you were pretty much dead. Life wasn't all that great for non-Jews, either...

There were tons of resistances, however, but many of them ended badly.
Needless to say, all of this, I can imagine, would be pretty darn bloody for Hetalia's Poland. This is why I'm imagining that Russia (I mean...USSR) would come home every day full of Poland's blood.

I apologize for the huge history rant, (correct me if I'm wrong about any of it) but I thought the fanfic would make a little more sense that way.

Thanks for reading!