USUK/UKUS One Shots

280 Meters Below the Surface (UkUs Lemon)

Warnings: War, sexual content, language

Word count: 3272

Estimated read time: 15 minutes

June 1942- The Coast of Florida

America shifted his bag on his shoulder. It was heavy, and the muscles were beginning to ache. Irritated, he turned to his Secretary of War- Henry Lewis Stimson.

"Remind me again, why the hell you're shipping me off on a submarine?"

"It'll be good for you. Besides, the Cobalt is a fine vessel. You'll like it. You need to get out of the Oval Office for a while."

"Why? So that Roosevelt can commit war crimes without me trying to stop him?"

"Don't be cynical. He's a good man, and you two have agreed on most decisions so far."

The personification rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Whatever. At least I'll get to spend time with my people. I like fighting beside them."

"Well, some of your people. And some other people."

He raised a brow. "Other people? Hang on, is this a shared sub? What other nation's bubbleheads are in there?"

"They're not just humans."

"There's another nation? Henry, I'm going to be living in a confined space underwater for months. You can't just stick me with some random person without asking me first."

The Secretary frowned. "It's not like I put you and Japan together or something."

"Japan's our enemy right now."

"I know. That was the joke. Nevermind. Just get going. The commander isn't going to wait forever, even for someone as important as you," Stimson replied, straightening his cuffs and preparing to leave.

"Wait!" America cried, "Who's the nation on the sub?"

"England, now go!" He answered, stalking off.

"England! But he's- we're- I-"

A man in a uniform approached America nervously. "Sir, the commander would like me to inform you that it is time to depart."

Reluctantly, America followed the sailor down the hatch and into the submarine. It smelled bad inside, which, combined with the humidity, made him want to puke. They wound through tight halls and past equipment that America sort of remembered operating during the last major war.

"The commander asked me to show you around," America's citizen told him as he began giving him a tour. "Right in there is the medical bay. And over there is..."

America's mind quickly drifted. The bag on his back was large and uncomfortable. Already, he was regretting ever listening to his Secretary of War. When had Stimson ever had a good surprise for him? This was ridiculous. And each time they turned a corner, he was paranoid that England would be standing there, all stiff and- 'Hello, my former colony. You appear to have put on some weight.'

Ugh. He could already hear England saying something like that.

"...And your sleeping quarters are right down there. Um, I needed to inform you that Secretary Stimson radioed the commander rather soon to your boarding date. Unfortunately, we didn't have enough singular bunks, despite being the least crowded submarine within a close enough distance to be able to pick you up, Mr. America."

"Just America is fine. And what exactly do you mean."

"Well, you see, we sent many radio messages, and Winston Churchill recommended a shared bunk situation."