Prussia passed into fitful, painful sleep. His head lolled back, allowing him a somewhat comfortable position to fall asleep in. He was in a state of half-consciousness when he heard in his ear, "Gil."
His half-awake brain recognized the voice, and he responded, still not completely conscious of what he was saying, "Ivan."
The soft feeling of a hand against his face woke him. He immediately regretted the soft tone his voice had taken when he had answered. He hoped that Russia had not noticed it, although he knew he wouldn't be that fortunate. His voice was now nearly gone. His vocal chords had not weathered the fights and yelling with no rest or water. The quiet hoarse whisper had, if anything, amplified the sound of relief. Russia confirmed this when he said with a smile, "Have you missed me?"
Prussia searched the expression, attempting to find the emotion behind it. He told himself that the look on Russia's face was a sneer, born only from the joy of dominance and control. It wasn't a smile, there couldn't be sweetness behind it. Prussia responded, "Better you than one of your lackeys." If his voice had not been so strained, he might have sounded intimidating, but as it was there was barely confidence in it. He looked directly in the other's eyes, and immediately realized how much he had missed the color while he had been. It was so deep, so complex. There was something soft in the back of that endless violet.
Prussia looked away from Russia's face, unable to continue searching those eyes. If he kept staring he would fall into them and never be able to claw his way back out. The look he had seen in the eyes manifested itself in the words, "I underestimated how much Toris dislikes you."
His anger still heavy on his mind, Prussia responded, "Have you punished him?"
This time the expression that appeared on Russia's face was a smirk, but it wasn't of amusement. It was something else, something like curiosity. The Russian responded, "What would you have me do to him?"
The feeling of unrestrained anger swelled in the albino, urging him to say exactly what he would do to Lithuania. But, there was a meek voice of reason in his head that he shouldn't take this bait. He didn't know how Russia could use this against him.
He said, "I'd beat him, and if that didn't make an impact, I would threaten his little boy toy." Prussia felt a smile on his lips. He was not even attempting to hide his dark side, not caring if Russia could see it.
But, the words echoed in his head, especially when Russia's smile seemed to widen, "He sees himself in you."
Prussia couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason for this question. Did Russia want to see if his answer affirmed that they were both capable of the same kind of cruelty? If so, then there was no way to deny it. They were the same in that respect, and alone in it. Few other countries thought as they did, Prussia realized that in this moment. For him, it was a merely a question of discipline. What appeared to be cruel in war was necessity, but few understood that. Europe had always declared him a tyrant, an example of the extreme.
Russia's hand went back to his face, the glove still impeding actual skin to skin contact. Prussia felt his face being tilted up, but it was gentle. He decided to lock his eyes on the other's, even though he knew the effect they would have on him. Russia spoke, his voice oddly soft, "How very cruel of you."
Prussia felt himself bristle, although this did not sound like a rebuke. Still, it would not be cruel. It would be punishment for what Lithuania had said to him, and for the disobedience. He responded on instinct, from wounded pride, "You condemn me for my answer. What would you do?"
His anger seemed to have little impact on Russia who continued to smile in a way that appeared almost tender. The Russian responded, "Exactly the same and I already have." A strange shiver raced down Prussia's spine. This concession, combined with the look in those violet eyes, triggered an unexpected realization. In this they were the same, there was understanding. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. But, it wasn't uncomfortable silence, nor was it laced with the usual tension. Where had that vanished to? Why didn't Prussia feel like striking out or resisting?
He couldn't answer that for himself. The silence was only broken when Russia stepped away and walked around him. Prussia, unconscious of his own actions, immediately looked around to try to see where the other was going. It became clear when Prussia felt a soft touch against his back, tracing the marks that the whip had left. Then Russia spoke, his voice coming close in the albino's ear, "I don't condemn you. I understand discipline."
As he spoke he ran a wet cloth down Prussia's back, cleaning the wounds. This was the second time he had done this, but now it felt different. Prussia was not seeing this as deception. Had what Lithuania said really changed his view that much? Russia continued talking, "The world is cruel, we both know that. People need to be governed" He paused for a moment, and then continued, "But they don't understand. Alfred is a spoiled child, who will never know how it feels to struggle."
The words brought back old memories of when Russia had been little more than a boy under the thumb of the Golden Horde. Prussia's own memories from that time were only slightly less bleak. He had been a small order of knights, just trying to stay alive, desperate, alone, disowned by his father. The memories were not pleasant. He had built himself up since then and sworn never to look back. Prussia looked over his shoulder and met Russia's eyes. He had wanted to say something harsh, something to contradict what Russia was saying. But, as he met those eyes, he didn't see the communist tyrant he was attempting to fight; he saw the child who had been so abused by the Golden Horde. Whatever fighting words he had died in his throat.
He said instead, "Do you think that makes us the same?" He was attempting to again to be hostile, to do anything that would put space between them again. They were too close, too soft. Prussia felt himself longing for the pure antagonism, wishing he could distance himself again. His heart was pounding in his chest, not just from the touch. In truth, they were barely touching at all. The albino's blood was thick with a feeling of compassion, even some alien affection. He had to stop himself.
But, none of these feelings were touched his voice as he made one more effort to reestablish enmity and said, "We are nothing alike."
Russia recoiled and immediately abandoned his task of cleaning the albino's wounds. He walked around the other again, and once they were face to face again, he said, "You're only fighting yourself." His voice was cold, but his eyes communicated pain. For a moment Prussia felt the strangest desire to apologize. He immediately dismissed it as only a result of the pain in his shoulders and his state of hunger and dehydration.
Russia looked directly at him and seemed to guess at the conflict. He immediately preyed on it, stepping forward as he spoke, "But I should do something to apologize for Toris's behavior." He gestured to someone behind him, just out of sight and all of the tension went out of the chains, allowing Prussia's hands to fall. He let out a groan at the sudden relief. He immediately collapsed to his knees on the floor. He did care how pathetic he looked, literally on his knees right in front of Russia.
The Russian spoke, amusement obvious in his voice, "You can kiss my boots while you're down there."
Prussia hissed back, looking up, "No way in Hell."
Russia smirked and said, "I believe you said you would never be on your knees for me. And yet, here you are."
He kneeled down and reached out and grabbed Prussia's chin. He spoke again, "Go ahead and fight, Gil, but I will win eventually." He then released the albino and hooked his hand between Prussia's cuffs, then used this position to pull the albino forward. At the same time, he shifted his weight backwards so that he went from kneeling to sitting, with Prussia comfortably in his lap. The albino felt his heart skip a beat at the sudden shift to this intimate position.
Part of his mind longed to claim the other's lips with his own, to not let Russia leave him alone again. Russia spoke, his voice taking off the same softness, "Can you feel your hands?" Prussia was surprised at the question and had to look down at his hand to see that both of Russia's hands were on his own. There was no sensation in the flesh. They had been above his head too long and no longer had blood flow.
He responded with the only honest answer, "No." There was no way to lie his way out of it, the fact that he couldn't feel Russia's hands against his own was undeniable. He kept looking at the other's hands, wondering how the Russian was going to use this information. For a moment, he wondered if he had just conceded weakness. It was fascinating when the gloved thumbs started making circles in the numb flesh, trying to encourage blood to flow back into the hands.
Prussia then looked back up at Russia's face, and realized that the other was looking directly at him. He could see Lithuania's words echoed in those eyes, "He thinks you're special." He couldn't deny that he saw affection there. It was terrifying. Russia returned the affection, not just the attraction, that he had been wrestling to rid himself of. Prussia couldn't accept that, couldn't let that be true.
Russia began to speak again, "You don't have to fight me. Just give yourself to me." Prussia felt blood returning to his hands, starting with the wrist. But, the words returned, the ones to which he could not consent. He could not give up his pride. He opened his mouth to object and Russia put a single finger to his lips. He said, "You don't have to humble yourself to anyone else. Just give yourself to me here, no one is watching. Your pride will not suffer."
Prussia ignored the finger that had silenced him. Russia did not command him. He snapped back, "I would be no better than Toris and I will not be like that coward. I will not be your puppet to fuck and discard when it serves you." The anger came from the only shreds of resistance he could hold together. He had to be strong, not just for his own pride but because of what he meant to his brother. He couldn't let Germany see him cave or break. He had to be strong for Ludwig, there was no other option. Even with attraction to Russia eating away at his mind, he couldn't give in.
The feeling had returned to the entirety of his hands, which was fortunate because Russia's hands immediately abandoned their task. One of Russia's hands went to Prussia's hair and the other held firmly to the cuffs. He pulled back the albino's head so that his neck was strained. Russia spoke directly in Prussia's ear, "You're lying. You like being my little pet."
His voice was rough, possessive. The albino groaned, he knew that he was lying, but he had to be able to hold this resistance. Russia added, "And I have only started to discover what your body can do." To punctuate the statement, Russia ran his hand over the half-healed bite marks on the white skin of the other's neck. The touch, like the voice, was very sound of Russia's voice was eliciting a reaction that Prussia was not in control of. The accented voice sounded of absolute confidence and control. He had a strong desire to grind down against the other until Russia grabbed him and dominated him. But, his mind was controlling his body firmly for now.
The other continued in his ear, anger slipping into the seductive tone, "Why do you cling to those who do not care for you?" Prussia growled in the back of his throat. It was an immediate reaction to what he suspected Russia was about to say. He knew there was only one direction that that comment could go and he denied it. But Russia responded with a hard tug on the white hair, sending more discomfort down Prussia's neck. He then continued speaking, "I didn't hear your precious little brother object to your valiant offer."
Prussia immediately responded his protective instinct kicking in, "Don't speak about him. You don't know him." He would allow himself to be corrupted and teased, but he would not allow his brother to be impugned. He had seen Germany's reaction to the decision, and he knew that his brother had been hurt.
Russia laughed, but there was a bitterness in it, "Did he tell you that he'd miss you? If that was true, he wouldn't have let you go so easily. He abandoned you, Gil."
This lie Prussia would not accept. The memory of the look on his brother's face when he had left with Russia was burned into his mind. But, the words rang uncomfortably true. It had been Austria who had objected in front of the Allies, not Germany. He told himself that his brother had been in shock, there was no other reason for his silence. But, Russia's words rang in his ears, slightly too close to reality. Russia continued as he saw a pained expression pass over the other's face, "Even if he did care then, he's lost to you now. Alfred will negate everything you ever taught him."
The hate that had been created in their conversation at the gate roared to life again. Prussia cursed it for being there, so easily commanded into existence by Russia. But, he couldn't deny that the hate tasted acrid on his tongue. His jaw clenched, expressing his hate physically. He said, hardly caring if Russia heard him, "If he lays a single finger on Ludwig, I'll-" He stopped himself, unwilling to level threats without thinking of the consequences. He couldn't touch America, especially not from this position. But the idea of losing Germany forever hurt, more than Prussia dared to admit. He had raised Germany, and he could not be without him.
This was the kind of pain Russia couldn't inflict with his needles or whips. This was the kind of pain that went deeper and struck at the core of Prussia's being. He felt a single tear roll down his cheek, betraying what he was feeling. The hand in his hair moved to his cheek and gently brush away the tear. Free to move his neck again, the albino looked back at Russia, whose expression had not softened. But, there was also no trace of triumph in the other's face. The touch had been light.
When Russia spoke, there was still authority in his voice, "I hate him too, but we make him pay for everything he has taken." Prussia felt the corner of his mouth twitch up at the corner. The emotions were conflicting and confusing, but the hatred was strong. He should have objected to the use of we, should have kept himself distant. But, he said nothing about it. Instead Russia stroked his cheek. Prussia felt those violet eyes looking straight into him, seeing through him, and undoing him. They could see what he deeply, secretly wanted.
The revelation that had been building through the encounter finally took form in Prussia's mind. Everything Lithuania had said was true. He couldn't allow himself to be happy that this was true. He didn't want special treatment, not from Russia. He rallied his resistance and aggression and formed a denial, "I will not become a communist for you. Don't think your empty promises will make me a Bolshevik whore."
Like clockwork, Russia hardened. In a single motion, he pushed Prussia off his lap. Unable to steady himself with his hands, Prussia fell gracelessly on his back. The hard ground sent pain shooting through his shoulders. The albino let out a short breath, reacting to the impact. Before he could react to the change in position, Russia was on top of him. A knife appeared at his throat. Any thought of attempting to fight back had to be suppressed with a blade at his throat. He took deep, slow breaths attempting to calm himself. Russia spoke as he pressed the flat of the blade even more firmly into Prussia's flesh, not yet using the edge, "You chose the hard way. Submit now or I will slit your throat."
Prussia responded in a hiss, "You wouldn't kill me." Russia smirked, but there was something hollow in his expression. But for some intangible reason, Prussia was certain he was right. There was something between them, be it attraction or lust.
Russia responded, this time pressing the edge of the knife in just enough to draw blood, "And why wouldn't I?" The pain of the cut was not significant, but Prussia clenched his jaw against it all the same.
He already had a retort prepared, "You would miss me."
It was both an attempt at wit and what Prussia suspected to be true. Russia didn't kill him at the end of the war, when the hate between them had been the strongest. He certainly wouldn't be able to do it now. Russia's smirk slipped for a moment. However, the facade slipped back into place seamlessly. He moved his hand from Prussia's neck down his side. He said, "And why would I miss what isn't mine? If you are going to resist me, then why should I keep you?"
It seemed to be a rhetorical question, but Prussia could hear a strange strain in it. The albino replied with his own smirk, "Then do it if you can." To make his point, he stretched out his neck, like he was inviting Russia to end him. It was a gamble, but Prussia knew that he could afford it. The other didn't respond. But he moved his knife away from Prussia's throat.
In a single motion, he slashed through the albino's pale chest. The skin was mostly healed from the earlier torture, but the pain was sudden and staggering. Prussia groaned as the pain hit him. But, he forced himself to smile and say, "Is that all you've got?"
Russia shook his head and said, finally responding to Prussia's provocation, "Don't push me, Nazi."
The albino wasn't backing down, not even with a knife against his chest. He responded through his clenched teeth, "Do your worst." Russia's eyes narrowed as he realized how transparent the bait was.
Instead of taking it, he said, "What did Toris say to you?" The contempt in his voice was palpable. It was not directed at Prussia, it was directed at the man who had ruined his plan. His tone indicated that whatever punishment Lithuania had endured so far was not going to be the end.
Prussia had no reason to protect the Baltic nation, but to reveal what Lithuania had told him would be dangerous. It would make it clear that Prussia was wavering because of a poisonous affection. For his own sake, the albino could not admit to that. He couldn't make it clear that he was beginning to see himself deep within those violet eyes. He couldn't say that his own heart was realizing that it was glad that Russia did not want to hurt him. He wanted Russia to punish him, to hurt him, to make this taboo affection vanish.
He resolutely clenched his jaw and refused to let a single word of truth out. Russia's eyes board into him, urging him to tell everything. For a moment he forgot why he shouldn't. Then he turned his head and looked away.
In response, Russia leaned back away from him and said, "It will be easier to get it out of Toris anyway. When I know, I'll come back to you." With that, he stood up, grabbing the chain that connected to the other's wrists as he did so. Prussia had no choice but to stand or to have his sore shoulders taxed by having his hands over his head again. He stood as Russia stood, their bodies still close together.
Prussia could feel blood rolling down his chest from the cut, but the pain was already fading. Once they were both standing, Russia grabbed the albino's chin roughly. He smirked, "You're losing, Gil. I can see it and you can feel it."
He ran the other hand down Prussia's face. He continued to smirk and added, "Soon you'll wonder why you fought me." Then, without any warning, he pulled the albino into a kiss. Without thinking, Prussia opened his mouth and let Russia's tongue penetrate deep into his mouth. Not satisfied, Russia pressed his thumb into the fresh cut across the other's chest. Prussia gasped at the pain radiating from the spot, and Russia took advantage of it to force his tongue even deeper into the other's mouth. Prussia felt like the other was going so deep that he was consuming him, taking parts of him with each caress of the other's tongue against his palate. If his hands had been free, he wasn't sure if he would use them to push Russia away or bury them in the Russian's hair. But from this position, Prussia was offering no resistance.
Russia pulled away, raking his teeth across the albino's lower lip. When he pulled away, still smirking, Russia put his thumb to his mouth. Keeping his eyes fixed on the albino, he licked the blood slowly from his thumb. There was something horribly arousing about the action. It was intensified by the words that followed it, "You will break soon, and you already know it."
It was all Prussia could do to respond with a single word, "Never." Russia smiled and pulled on the chain, which forced Prussia even closer to him.
He continued to smirk and said softly, "Keep lying to yourself. We'll see how long that will last." He turned and walked towards the door again. Prussia had to muster the willpower not to take a few steps after him. He didn't want to be left alone again, but to follow Russia would be to concede defeat. Instead, he sunk back to his knees, finally letting his battered body rest.