= In the end, all will be one - RussLat
"It's dark."
"Yes."
"I'm afraid."
"I'm sure you are."
"Is it going to go on?"
"Yes."
The Soviet enjoyed these days.
It was cold, yet, he could still feel the blood pumping through his veins. He could just taste the adrenaline building up inside him, for it was one of his favorite days, and that didn't come very often.
He could really explain it, but it was something about these days that made him so… excited. It really was hard to explain.
"Raivis."
The young boy winced as he heard his name through the sound of the intense snowstorm pounding against the windows.
"Yes, Mr. Braginski?"
The Soviet grinned.
"Fetch me some tea, da?"
The young boy nodded.
"Yes, right away."
The Soviet chuckled under his breath as the young boy left the room in a hurry, eager to please his boss.
It was cute.
The Soviet stood up, strolling casually across his office to the large window, pulling asides the curtains and placing his hands against the pane. The cold of the glass passed through his leather gloves and he could feel it against his skin. He then glanced outside into the roaring snowstorm, squinting to look beyond the foggy panes of the window and out into the darkness and cold that was Russia.
The Soviet chuckled.
"There is no rest for General Winter," he murmured to himself in the native tongue, the words dancing across his tongue one by one.
He then backed away from the window, dragging his gloved hand across the glass as he walked away, the digits leaving marks on the surface.
The Soviet sat back down at his desk, sighing and taking a moment to savor the emptiness of his office, for there was no one there except for him. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, ignoring the noises form the snowstorm and concentrating only on his surroundings.
His bliss was interrupted by a light but brief knock on the door.
"Mr. Braginski, I brought your tea."
The Soviet opened his eyes, a wide ecstatic grin stretching across his face.
The fun would soon begin.
"Yes, enter, da?"
The handle of the wooden door was turned slowly, and in entered the familiar presence of the young Latvian adolescent, whom of which the Soviet currently had custody over.
The Soviet paused to take a moment and examine his underling.
Those curled blonde locks that encircled his scalp, those innocent violet orbs that meekly resembled his own, that charming adolescent face that flushed ever so easily, they were all his.
The Soviet smiled as the young adolescent set the tray of tea onto his desk and began to pour some into a ceramic cup.
"Nah, Raivis?"
The adolescent looked up and into the Soviet's eyes, only to look back down for a moment then pick his head up once more, careful not to glance into his superior's piercing violet orbs.
"…yes?"
The Soviet chuckled softly.
"Ah, never mind."
The young Latvian blinked, vexed by his superior's actions.
He continued serving tea to his superior, first setting the cup down on a small saucer then placing it gently on the desk right next to his superior's arm.
"Thank you," said the Soviet as he picked up the cup and brought it to his pale lips with his black leather gloved hands, taking a light sip then setting it back down onto the wooden surface of his desk.
"You're welcome," replied the young Latvian with a sense of uneasiness in his voice.
The Soviet glanced up.
"What's wrong?" he asked, a light grin resurfacing as he rested his cheek against the knuckles of his right hand.
The adolescent looked away for a moment, twiddling his thumbs behind his back, then looking back at his superior with nervous eyes.
"No, it's nothing," he replied in a low voice, the last syllable fading away under his breath.
His superior chuckled under his breath.
"Nah, Raivis, come over here for a second."
The young Latvian glanced up with a look of surprise, but still reluctantly followed his superior's orders.
"What is it, Mr. Braginski?"
The young Latvian stood facing his superior on the opposite side of his wooden desk.
"Come closer," replied the Soviet, turning his chair to the side and beckoning the adolescent with his gloved finger.
The young Latvian swallowed, but still follows his superior's instructions. After all, he was afraid of him. In fact, there really was no reason not to fear the merciless Soviet leader, Ivan Braginski, who was said to have a heart so cold that even the coldest regions of Siberia could not compare.
The adolescent encased his fear and walked around the Soviet's desk until they were face to face.
"What is it, Mr. Braginski?"
The Soviet glanced up, a grin plastered to his face that could resemble that of the Cheshire Cat. He reached out one gloved and hand caught the Latvian's chin between his thumb and index finger, then pulling him close so their eye levels were equal.
"Nah, Raivis, do you like me?"
The young Latvian's face flushed, his violet orbs widened in surprise.
"Eh? I…."
The Soviet reached out with his other hand and caught the adolescent around the neck, pulling him forward and twisting his body around so that he came sitting down upon the Soviet's lap. He held the Latvian close, arms around his neck in a strong embrace.
"…because I really like Raivis."
The Latvian was searching for words, but none came out.
"I…." he managed to mutter.
The Soviet tightened his embrace and rested his head against the Latvian's.
"But, it's okay. It doesn't really matter if Raivis loves me back, does it?"
The adolescent was speechless. He was clearly vexed by his superior's actions, but he was much more afraid of what would happen next. This man, Ivan Braginski, was not known to be a gentle conqueror. In fact, it was much the opposite. Ivan Braginski was known to be cold, cruel, and on top of that, a genuine sadist.
The thought of it made the young Latvian shudder in his clothing.
The Soviet seemed to notice fairly quickly, for he held the Latvian even tighter and closer, exhaling right next to his ear.
"Is Raivis cold? Then I'll make him warm."
The Latvian shivered.
Being held by his cold hearted superior did no more but drain the remaining heat from his body until he was shivering like a frightened cat.
"Mr. Braginski, I—"
The Latvian swallowed his sentence as he felt the Soviet smile against the nape of his neck.
"Nah, Raivis, your skin is soft," he purred.
The adolescent close his eyes and awaited his superior's next approach.
The Soviet chuckled into his ear.
"Nah, Raivis, how would you like to become one with Russia?"
The Latvian turned his head to the side, looking the Soviet straight into his violet orbs with his own. His superior's malicious glance frightened him, and he turned his head away.
"I…thought I was already part of the Soviet Union," he replied.
There was another low chuckle.
"Da, that is true, but would you like to become one with Russia?"
The adolescent's violet orbs widened in fear.
"You mean with….."
"Da, I mean with me."
The Latvian was out of words.
"I—"
"It doesn't really matter, does it? In the end, all will become one."
"You mean—"
"Yes. One with me, Russia."
The Latvian gasped.
It was the first time that he had heard the Soviet leader address himself by his official name. It felt strange. He was used to calling his superior by his given name instead of his formal name. It felt strange hearing it come out of his own mouth, for neither he nor anyone else has ever called another by their formal titles. It just felt strange.
Russia.
The very thought of it brought chills down the Latvian's spine.
One with Russia.
The very idea made him shiver with fright.
In the end, all will become one with Russia.
The very thought of it was frightening beyond belief, the fact that this man, Ivan Braginski, could be this frightening. The Latvian was much too frightened for words. This man, Ivan Braginski, made his everyday fears seem like a mere stroll in the park. In fact, there was nothing he feared more than this man, Ivan Braginski, no, Russia.
Another breathe of warm air caressed the nape of the Latvian's neck and sent another round of chills through his body.
"So what will it be?"
The Latvian was far past afraid. He was terrified beyond belief.
This man, Ivan Braginski, the fear of all nations, the man that would haunt the nightmares of individuals unlucky enough to cross paths with him, was giving him a choice that he was not likely to take "no" as an answer for.
This man, Ivan Braginski, who was known for his cruelty towards those he loved and towards those he despised, who was known to love the same way he hated.
The Latvian swallowed, and his fear died down. There really was no other choice.
"So what will it be?" whispered the Soviet as another breathe of air tingled the soft skin of the Latvian's neck.
Slowly, the adolescent turned his head slightly to face his superior, who in return plastered a wide grin to his pale lips.
"Yes."
The Soviet chuckled.
"You made the right choice, Raivis, I mean, Latvia—"
—Because in the end, everyone will be one with Russia.
End
A/N: That was…..well…..something I thought up as I sat in front of my computer and suddenly went "I'm going to write some fan fiction! :D" Yeah, not the best story, but I tried, so I should get credit for that. Inspiration? I don't really ship RussLat, but I think it's cute how Russia's always teasing him. The idea? Well…..I enjoy writing sadism stories (even sappy ones) :D