USUK/UKUS One Shots

Yamalia

Warnings: Kidnapping, captivity, starvation, dehydration, sexual harassment (mild), drugging

Word Count: 6123

Estimated Read Time: 26 Minutes

A/N: England doesn't appear in this story but is heavily discussed due to his pre-established relationship with America. Translations at the end. 

The room was cold. America blearily opened his eyes, blinking slowly to get himself to focus. The cement room was dim, lit only by a lightbulb with a string dangling from it. It occasionally flickered as if on its last life. America was leaning against the cement wall, hands bound tight behind his back. He kind of felt like he was on his last life.

Groaning, he tried to figure out who had just spoken to him. He'd heard a voice, yes, but other than that, he couldn't determine anything. Not its words, not its owner, and not its language. It took the speaker talking again and a moment of tremendous effort before he was able to focus enough to identify anything about it.

Russia's voice echoed through the otherwise unremarkable room. "Oh, don't go ignoring me now, Подсолнух. It is rude to do so, is it not?" He slowly stepped closer, grinning at America.

America's head spun. Had he been drugged? Knocked out? "...What?"

He blinked again, and the face of his enemy came into view. Shit. That was Russia, alright. He tried to stand, but his body ached, and his legs didn't even move. What from, he wasn't sure. Maybe drugs or maybe from sitting on them for however long he'd been in this concrete monstrosity.

That psychotic grin widened on Russia's face. He walked closer until he was right in front of America, putting a hand under America's chin to tilt his head up. "Ah... you were unconscious for a bit. Do not fight it, now." He said with a sickeningly sweet tone. "You would not want to hurt yourself."

"Russia," America answered, growling out his name. "Where the hell am I?"

Russia laughed softly as he held his gaze. His hand was as cold as the room, sucking the warmth from America's skin like cold metal. "Well, I am sure you can tell this is not Washington, D.C.," He said as if he was teasing a little kid. It made America bristle.

America tried to pull away, but the grip on his chin only tightened. He was struggling to think, mind still hazy. "W- Why...?"

Russia looked down at America with that disgusting smile. "Why do I have you here? Or why do you feel so disoriented?"

America swallowed dryly. He needed water— badly. "Both."

Russia hummed softly as he gave America a once-over, analyzing his condition. His voice was quiet, yet it still had an underlying menace to it. "The second is simple. You feel this way because I gave you something." He paused, watching the way America's eyes struggled to stay focused on him. His hand that was holding America's chin squeezed a little tighter.

"W... What kind of something?"

Another one of his creepy laughs. It sounded so evil, and yet it still had a sort of sweet tone to it that made it worse. America didn't know how he did it. He leaned down, getting close to America's ear. "A special drug I made myself." He whispered, his hot breath against his skin.

America tried to jerk away and failed again. He winced at the sharp pain in his head that the rapid movement caused. "How did you—"

Russia leaned back and gently placed a finger against America's lips, shushing him. "I have more loyal to me in your capitol than you believe."

America winced. "Where am I?" He repeated, words slightly smooshed as he tried not to speak against Russia's finger too much.

Russia moved his finger away from America's mouth once he had spoken and clucked his tongue in thought before he answered. "Somewhere you would not expect to be. That I can guarantee." He paused and examined America's face, still smiling. "You need water, don't you?"