This is my first fanfiction...ever. xD So be gentle, you grammar Nazis! Plus half of the time writing this, I was multitasking...and I'm new to the site, so I probably will have toruble uploading the other chapters. ;_;

ENJOY BRO
_

Shaking furiously, Latvia shuffled to Russia's room with nothing but a plate and a cup of warm tea in his right hand. Careful not to spill, he made sure no tiny drops managed to dribble out of the cup. He knew he would be as good as dead if he spilled just a small amount.

The bruises still throbbed from the last punishment he faced. He had dropped a whole glass of vodka when cleaning, and it shattered around the floor, along with the strong liquid. Before he knew it, he felt a cuff on the head and all went black…

"Raivis," Russia welcomed him, his voice warm and unusually soft. "Come in."

Latvia snapped back into reality, not realizing he walked as far as a few inches before Russia's door and nearly spilled the tea. "Y-yes," Latvia bent over and cupped the teacup with his hand in order to stop the tea from sloshing out. He took in a short breath before continuing, "Yes, ..."

Russia didn't seem to notice Latvia's close call, and flicked a grin at the boy.

As if the grin was a welcome, Latvia collected the tea and walked in as politely as he could, with his back straight and shoulders at a reasonable width apart. He tried as hard as he could to hide the fear in his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to anger the man and get himself into another cruel punishment.

"You brought something for me, da?" he asked, voice soft as silk, looking at what was in Latvia's hands.

Latvia closed his eyes. "Y-y-yes, Mr. Russia…" he nearly whispered, trying not to create a conversation.

He took long steps to get to Russia as quickly as he could, which meant he would get away sooner, and back to where he'd rather be- in the kitchen and well away from the burning gaze of the larger country.

Step by step, he finally got to the table and put the plate down awkwardly. He felt Russia looking at him, his stare cold and unforgiving. He's just trying to get me shaky again so I'll drop the tea. He knew Russia loved when he made small, normally ignored mistakes.

For a moment he stood there, lost in what to do next. It was just a silence between Russia and himself. He wanted today to be a good day, not one full of pain and hard labor. I guess it would help if I were polite…

He took a breath and finally said, "E-enjoy, M-Mr. Russia."

He waited for a reply, still straining himself from looking the Russian in the eyes. Please, please say something so I can leave…