Back in the day, everyone that made up the House of the U.S.S.R. Had to find something to pass the days with, so they all picked up habits and hobbies:

Estonia became a technical genius.

Lithuania learned to cook like you wouldn't believe.

Ukraine grew a green thumb.

Russia got the knack for wood carving.

Latvia began writing.

And Belarus began reading.

Back then, days passed pretty slow between conflicts, and although the peace was appreciated, cabin fever could set in fairly quickly, and something else would get stirred up. But somehow, around all of that, things got set into motion, and it was a slow occurrence, but with Latvia perusing his dream of putting his thoughts on paper, and Belarus ghosting around the library for new reading material, they would bump into each other. That first time, Latvia had been a quivering mess in his mind, but he'd managed to hold it together. He'd been headed for the big table in the middle of the shelves of books, but as he'd rounded the corner designated for the S section, Belarus had been seated there.

"O-oh! Excuse me, Miss Belarus, I'll just go to another part of the library." And so he had. Without so much as having met her eyes, Ravis turned on his heel and found a podium in the corner to bear down on so he could write. What he had done to create the storyline, was used his own life. The characters had been giving different names and quirks, and sometimes even genders(because Lithuania made a better sister anyway) and fit them to what happened in his day. Today, the main character would be faced with a choice, just as he had been. Sit with the prettiest girl in the house, or run and hide. Every time, he ran in real life and let his character take his place with the character he'd designed around Belarus, her name was Sophia.

"Latvia! Oh, Latvia! Come here please." Ravis stood from his desk, hiding his book under his mattress before trotting down the hall toward the voice of a terrifying Russian man calling for him. He turned the corner with a fake smile playing on his lips.

"Welcome home, Mr. Russia. Did you need something?" A wad of filthy clothes was dumped into his arms. They were covered in dirt, snow, and blood. Again. Russia patted his head far too hard, again, and he waited until the man was out of hearing distance to let out a sigh and trudge to the laundry room.

Blood was a difficult substance to get out when wet, let alone dry.

Why? She asked herself that question far too often for her own liking. But it remained unanswered because she could not fathom a possibility as to why her dear brother preferred that short Baltic over herself. Not that she was that vain, it was just that he was so... boring wasn't the word, but neither was plain. He was just not something of interest, and yet, he was Ivan favorite plaything.

Ivan called for him when he came home.

Ivan wanted him to clean his clothes.

Him to cook dinner.

Him to bring vodka.

Him to serve as company.

Why. Not. Natalia? All she had ever given her brother was devotion, support, and loyalty. What did Latvia give him? Nothing more than fake smiles and a punching bag. So why? She caught a glimpse of the boy then, as he made his way down the hall, Ivan's blood soaked clothes in hand.

Natalia chose to follow him. Perhaps it is something she cannot see him doing on first glance. Perhaps she could mimic him... She watched as he set the clothes out on the table and began to vinegar onto the blood stains with little effort. How often does he do this to not need focus? He scrubbed, washed, dabbed again, scrubbed, and rinsed it out. The stain was almost gone now, and another round of the washing and it was as if it never was.

"Hand me that coat." He visibly jumped at the sound of her voice. She'd forgotten that he was been unaware of her observation. Nonetheless, he handed her the newly clean coat and she inspected it carefully.

As if it never was.

She turned back to the boy with a glare. She looked him up and down and really noted the things about him. He was short, a few inches shorter than herself, with dark blonde hair that looked as if it hadn't seen the end of a comb in weeks, and bright blue eyes glancing up to meet her gaze, then going right back to work with the blood. He wasn't unattractive, not grotesque. His face was still rounded out in some places, and his shoulders were not near as broad as they would have become had he hit puberty...

"How old are you?"

He stared at her for a moment, in shock, then blinked and scrubbed a little more.

"19 in a few weeks."

18. How was he so small at 18 years old?

"Why are you so small then? You do not have the profile of a young man." She pointed out, noting as his cheeks reddened slightly.

"Well miss, because I never eat much. Malnutrition, I suppose." He shrugged and put the last stain to death, before hanging the jackets to dry. He moved on to the boots.

"What's so special about you?"

"Excuse me?" She glared at him and re looked back down, "Let me rephrase that, I don't understand the question."

"Why is my brother so fond of you? What do you do to earn his affection?"

At this, Latvia scoffed and scrubbed a little harder.

"Affection? I'd hesitate to call Ivan's attention towards me warmhearted. I'm beaten and bullied, if that's what you mean." The blondes stood in a silence for a moment, with only the sounds of Latvia's continued chores to fill the tense air. Natalia watched him carefully to see if he was lying, and she couldn't detect anything. Obviously he would rather her brother leave him be, which she found odd.

"You are frightened of him, then." This time, light blue eyes met her own quizzically. Stupid boy, does he understand anything? She continued, "That is why you do not enjoy his company. You are weak and small, and frightened of his power." Surely this is the only reason...

"I hate to tell you, but you're wrong Miss Belarus. It's not fear, it's common sense not to get on the bad side of Mother Russia." Latvia sent her a tiny smile, "Especially when he owns you." and set the boots aside to dry.

What a strange boy...

Ivan had taken Lithuania into town for something political and today was perfect. Why? Because Latvia had gotten all this chores done already and without Toris or Ivan there to give him more, he could write to his heart's content. He ran to his room, pulling the book out from under his mattress and scurried down the hall towards the library, but his feet began to slow as they approached the kitchen. He slowed more and more until he was stopped outside, looking in at Belarus as she cooked their dinner.

She turned around with a stern look towards him.

"Do you need something, Latvia?" At this, he let another smile cross his lips and he took a seat for himself at the table. Ravis is a rather gutsy boy.

"What are you cooking?"

Natalia let her eyes release the glare they held and turned back to the pot, "Stew." A few moment passed, before she heard her companion flipping pages and begin scribbling something. She glanced over her shoulder to see him nose deep in a tattered book, writing the story in it's pages. Without a word, she turned back to her food and dropped a diced onion into the mix.

A/N: Drabbles to help me with another fic~ Enjoy.

EXPECT NO REAL PLOT :DD

-Moi~