Ahhh Finally uploading something new even though I wrote it nearly a month ago. ;_; Anyways, I've been in such a lietbel mood and love the Soviet Union times so here we go! Hope you enjoy it! As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, just the words.

He didn't know what was happening, nor how he had ended up in his bed. One moment he's yelling at Russia, fighting back against something he had said, and the next he was on the ground, beaten to a pulp with more than just a few scratches on his body, the most deadly of them being on his bare back, the scars from times before opened up once again.

The feel of something warm and wet stung against the opened wounds with every touch, and it was then that he realized he wasn't alone in the room. Someone—though he had no idea who(probably one of the other Baltics)—was taking care of him with gentle, easy strokes with a wash cloth. He could hear them wringing out the wash cloth every now and then, letting the water soak up the red from the cloth only to dirty it up once more. Lithuania's face was no better, but at least the pillow helped hide the winces with every sting. Smooth, delicate fingers ran across the wound, causing him to arch his back some at their touch. It was clear to him now that this couldn't possibly be Estonia or Latvia; their hands were much too rough, too callous to be as smooth as this person's. It could be Ukraine's but what there was no sobbing along with the tending to. That only left one person, and one person only, and the thought caused a smile on his tired face.

"Miss Belarus…"

"Shut up." Her voice, while void of any emotion whatsoever, was music to his ears. It always had been, it always will be. The fact alone that she was taking care of him surprised him immensely. He had been under the impression that she hated him more than anything in the whole world, yet here she sat next to him, trying to be as gentle as possible with each of her cleaning strokes. It was so unlike her, and admittedly, Toris loved every minute of it. If this was what was to happen every time he had been been hurt by Russia, then he would gladly take the pain. But somehow he knew that this was going to be a one time thing only, and he tried not to dwell on that fact too much.

"…What happened to you?" She rang through his ears, and he assumed she meant why he was hurt.

"Mr. Russia he hu—"

"No. I mean what happened to you." Her hand traced over the scars, both old and new and a shiver ran down his spine. "You used to be so strong…so confident, and now look at you. Nothing but a bloody mess all by brother's hand." He could have swore there was spite there, but he couldn't be too sure. She was right of course, he had fallen from his greatness, like most nations had from time to time, and now he was nothing more than just a play thing for his host; something to keep him entertained when he was bored; a canvas for him to paint his painful strokes on. Lithuania's hands gripped onto the sheets of the bed, trying to find the strength to fight back, but there was none. After all, she was right, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was growing weaker and weaker, and the fear that he'd never gain his independence again was slowly sinking in. "You're weak."

"Yes. I am…but so are you." Suddenly he felt a bit guilty for saying such things, even if they were true. But instead of a lashing or harsh words, and that was given was a brushing of her fingers through his tangled locks. Ahh…how nice that felt, just having her skin against his own was enough to make him content for the rest of his life, this was just the cherry on top.

"I am, but I will grow stronger in time…" Her finger twisted one of the brown locks between them. "Will you?"

It was getting harder and harder for him to think at this point, but he would try. Instead of answering, though, he had sat up. It was more than painful, and surely he would pay for it soon enough, but he wanted to see the look on her face when he gave her his answer. Hell, she might even smile some for him. He faced her, breath becoming more and more shallow with ever motion he did. So much that his head had drooped and rested on her shoulder. Soon enough all that filled his lungs was the sweet scent of Natalia; mint and fresh snow. If he could stay like this forever, he would. There was no retaliation from her, just a mere acceptance that this was what the injured man wanted the most right now. One of his hands reached up and twirled a strand of blond hair between his finger, keeping his attention on it.

A deep, calming breath, and he had gotten the courage to say what he wanted to say. "As long as you will, I will too. Don't worry…I'll be strong again one day…and then we'll both leave this place for good…"

He couldn't tell what her reaction was, nor just what she was thinking, but the arms wrapped around his shoulders was more than enough to let him know that she agreed. Yet again, something warm and wet placed itself onto his body, only this time it was no wash cloth, but lips, against his forehead. He was so warm, so sleepy, and soon enough slumber was winning his consciousness over and he had passed out the sweet humming of the Belarusian beauty that had stolen his heart all those years ago.

So what do you think? Perhaps an actual fanfiction in the Soviet Union time with a heavy focus on Lithuania and Belarus? Let me know what you guys think!