V Put'!

America sat at the conference table tapping her pen irritably. Of all the days her boss had scheduled a meeting with the Russians, it had to be today! Oh sure, she really didn't have anything going on today, but dammit, any day to meet with those commies was a bad one. They should never occur. She hated them and their repressive ways and that stupid dictator. But truthfully, she hated the personification of that land so much more.

Russia, Ivan Braginsky, the Soviet Union. By any name he went by, Amelia hated him. He was such a backstabbing bastard. She wished she could smash his face into the sidewalk and scrape it off not unlike a cheese grater, before she hacked off his limbs and fed them to the bears— his stupid freaking unicycle bears with the stupid freaking little hats— before she shot the bear out of spite and because it was a stupid freaking commie bear. Commie bears shouldn't exist. Period. She snorted when she realized that Russia was sometimes referred to as a bear. He would look pretty ridiculous if he ever dressed up like one. A big, ugly purple one, the same shade that would match those gorgeous amethyst eyes…

Dammit! Amelia mentally berated herself. She shouldn't be thinking those kinds of thoughts about that fat bastard! Those kinds of thought had been for the Russian Empire, and that man…that man was basically dead now. All signs of her old friend were gone, drowned and choked out of the Slav before World War I had even come to a conclusion. Just the thought of how it used to be sent her heart into a fit of agony, the old scar throbbed…

But she shouldn't be like this right now, especially with the Russians coming soon. She had to remain cool and collected, had to remember all of the reasons she hated Russia's stupid face and repress all of her memories of how it had all been before. It was just easier that way.

The very air seemed to change in the next minute and America knew Russia was close. The coldness and the strangling oppressive atmosphere was always a giveaway. It was like the nation had the ability to suck out all the happiness and joy and democracy where he went now. Or maybe the lack of happiness came from his ability to suck out democracy? Probably a good side affect for him. He really was a jerk like that.

But she couldn't think quite as darkly of him at the moment either as that would negatively affect their meeting. Since Stalin's death not too long ago, the Soviet Union had seemed in a right mess, the power struggle for successor had made the Russian increasingly difficult to communicate with and this was their first meeting since then. She vaguely wondered if his attitude would have improved since then. Maybe with the coming to power of Khrushchev it would be easier to work with him. Heaven knew no one was as bad as Stalin!

A moment later, Russia came in wearing that stupid military uniform of his that was in no way shape or form sexy, especially with the hat and that ratty old scarf of his that she'd never seen him without. What was he hiding under that thing anyway? Probably some demon that would eat your face off if you tried to unwrap it from around the Slav's neck. But even more disturbing than the prospect of a neck-demon was that hallow smile Russia wore, reflecting equally empty eyes. Russia was apparently not well today, judging by how very crazy he appeared. That would make it hard to negotiate…

Next to her, her ambassador began introductions and was fairly courteous. The Russian ambassador seemed to be trying to do the same. Neither personification, however, moved from their positions. They regarded each other coldly, America scowling, Russia smiling bitingly, but neither ventured to speak. It was probably for the best though, because if they spoke, they'd probably end up arguing, and that could lead to physical attacks, which could lead to nuclear war. America didn't want to blow up the world, she wanted to save it! But this asshole in front of her made it so difficult while he was painting it all red.

Negotiations went on as negotiations do: slow, tedious, and boring as hell. Amelia and Russia never took their eyes off each other as they studied one another closely, looking for tells, signs of deceit or weakness. There came a slight lull in the talks as the diplomats on either side stopped speaking for a moment to collect their thoughts or perhaps organize notes, America wasn't really paying that close of attention. It was then that Russia decided to make his move and spoke.

"You are looking tired, Amerika. Are you not feeling well?" The hopefulness in his voice made America feel sick.

"Shut up, bastard!" she snapped, feeling a little like Romano. "I'm perfectly fine and happy. Unlike you," she couldn't resist the barb.

"Oh, I am perfectly fine also," he smiled tightly. She knew she had gotten to him. "Where you concerned for me?"

"Concerned that you haven't fallen over dead yet, but don't worry," she added quickly, before he could speak. "I can help you with that."

"I'm sure," the Slav giggled unnaturally. "That is, if I don't bury you first."

America's lips curled back in a disgusted sneer. "Do you really think that you and your shitty-ass government can really out last me? When you can't even change power from one hand to another peacefully?"

"My government has strong leaders, strong rules, which means strong results. You and your government have to bribe people to get them into office based on the candidate's wealth and the affection of the people while taking into consideration too many trivial things," he waved her off disdainfully.

"At least I love my people and don't enslave and brainwash them!" she stood up, red in the face.

"Your people are slave to conformity and triviality, and those that are not suffer in poverty," Russia stood as well. "What was it your people said years back? 'The rich get richer, the poor get poorer'?" he shook his head with a scornful giggle. "You really have no morals."

Embarrassed, enraged, America blurted out the only thing that came to mind. "Coming from you, you Godless heathen!"

Russia's mouth snapped closed for a moment, his eyes glazed over for just a split second, but America noticed. "Religion…got in the way of progression," he said carefully.

Knowing that she had the upper hand, the blonde pushed her attack. "As do most truthful speakers that you conveniently ship away to Siberia. A strong government needs the support of the people, care for the people, serve the people, not hurt and tyrannize them!"

"So I should put those of a more European decent above and before those of other ethnicities? I should exalt those with wealth while crushing the poor into obscurity like insects?" he growled angrily. "'Land of the Free' indeed."

That was the final straw, and America knew she couldn't take it, she couldn't take him. "Goddammit!" she screamed, slamming her hands down on the table, nearly cracking it.

"America," her ambassador admonished, trying to get a hold of her reigns before she could cause more trouble than she should.

But Amelia didn't want to listen. Her chest hurt as her heart beat against it wildly. She told herself that the toxic feeling she felt when she looked at the other nation across from her was hatred as she tried to blink back the frustrated tears that wanted to show themselves in her eyes. She hated him, she hated Russia so much she could barely breathe. It was like he had been designed with the sole purpose of infuriating her, her own personal devil. How could she hate him so much? It didn't seem possible, but she did, wholly and completely now. But more frustratingly horrible was knowing how she hadn't always hated him like this…

"Goddammit," she repeated, softer this time, but no less heated. Knowing she needed time to get herself together lest she do something she'd regret— though probably not very much seeing as any sort of revenge against the Slav would be savored forever—she turned and walked to the door, but not before sending a heart stopping glare Russia's way. Of course, since the Slav didn't have a heart, it didn't have much effect as he smiled on, hiding behind that smile, pretending like there was nothing wrong with him. "So weak," she muttered darkly as she slammed the door shut.

It took a good thirty minutes of walking around the little Swiss town to calm her nerves, but eventually, Amelia managed to reign in her violent fury and push it down into a heated simper instead. That was quite a feat, actually, one that she was rather proud of. But then it was hard to stay angry when in such an inherently peaceful and beautiful place. It wasn't as awesome as her home, but it ranked up there.

Sitting down in a park, Amelia decided that maybe she should just stop coming to these small meetings. They didn't really matter and only ended up upsetting her. Russia was such an ass, was he really worth all this aggravation? She could just stay State-side and get reports later without having to raise her blood pressure all the time. But then she couldn't leave her ambassadors helpless as Russia would be sure to keep coming. He would probably take her not wanting to come as a sign of weakness. Bastard.

So the answer was no, Russia wasn't worth all the trouble, but her people certainly were. She had to care for them, it was her responsibility to do so, and she'd be damned before she let them down. After all, England had told her that she had to step it up now, that she was a Superpower, and by God, she had to be a hero! She wouldn't let that commie take over Europe or the world! She would stop him by any means necessary. She would prove to everyone that you didn't mess with the United States of America!

It was time to forget the past and worry about the future. Ivan Braginsky as Amelia had known him was gone now, and in his place, a monster. She couldn't afford to keep thinking about him like she had, couldn't let some pointless child's crush from long ago keep her bound and tethered, giving him the power to control her emotions so viciously. America had to break free, had to worry about herself now and her own protection for her people's sake. Who cared about Russia anyway? He had never been grateful for anything she ever did anyway.

No, there was nothing left worth admiring about Russia. He was wholly disgusting and terrible and—

"Amerika!" Spinning around instantly, hand itching to grab her gun, all feeling drained from Amelia's body for a split second before she was flooded with an intensely hot, nearly overpowering sensation of disbelieving attraction.

Strutting over to her proudly, pale skin gleaming in the sunlight without a shirt, came Russia. He had slung his shirt and jacket slung over his shoulder as he came over to her, his hat still cocked crookedly on his head. He was wearing that cold smile of his, but it did not capture Amelia's attention anymore. What did was vast exposure of white skin and the sporting the well toned muscles of a Greek god that had somehow gotten onto the Russian's body.

The Slav struck a pose in front of her, that old scarf of his still wrapped around his neck, as though he were some sort of supermodel. A million and three things went through Amelia's mind at that moment as she stared at the washboard abs that would have put Adonis to shame, but it was with the utmost distress that she realized that none of them were negative. Being so young, America had never had much chance for romance, never really cared for one much, but seeing Russia like this, standing before her looking so coldly perfect, even though she knew he was no good, she felt like she was willing to take some abuse. For a split second, she thought about reaching out and touching him, but thank God her brain was dead enough from the shock of lust that she didn't have mobility in her limbs at the moment.

A blush came to her cheeks seconds later, as she found herself unable to look away from the nation before her. So pale and perfect and cold. Always cold.

"As you can see, Amerika," Russia sneered down at her, probably soaking up her speechlessness with the upmost satisfaction, "I am not weak. The Soviet Union will prevail as I am strong."

And before she could refute him, say anything at all, Russia was walking away, saying something, probably mocking her, that Amelia didn't care to translate, nor could have at the moment if she'd tried. The only phrase she actually heard and could distinguish from the others was "V'put'" as it floated through the air tauntingly. Once he was out of sight, the trance she had been under seemed to snap, and America fell forward onto her feet, as though cut from a line. "Oh yeah!" she screeched, willing him to hear her voice over the bustle of the town. "You're not the only one with a body like that! You're still an ugly commie with a big fat nose…and too much hair!"

Apparently the screaming of English in an American accent was not an everyday occurrence in Switzerland as several people who were out and about stopped what they were doing to stare at the blonde with confusedly frightened faces. When Amelia noticed this, she blushed, muttering apologies in Swiss-German before stalking off in the opposite direction that the Russian had gone to get as far from the Slav as physically possible. She didn't want to chance running into him again.

Stupid Russia and his stupidly hot body! When the hell had the man gotten to look like that? Had he always been this fit, this fine looking? The thought gnawed at Amelia's brain like a weasel trying to get out of a trap. If only she had known that that was what had laid beneath that coat sooner. All the wasted years!

But no, that would not have been good. Even if she had known of that stupid commie's awesome body before he had become a stupid commie, it just meant that Amelia would have probably tried harder for the Slav to notice her, and what then? She'd probably have come out more brokenhearted over the situation then she already was. No, not brokenhearted. She didn't want to give the Russian that much power over her. What she had once felt had been a crush and nothing more. Besides, even when not batshit crazy, she and Russia had always been too different to be anything but friends…or that's what she said to herself at night when she felt particularly down. Her Russia was gone, and that was just the way of things.

The conference never went back to being a halfway civil affair after that, and eventually the ambassadors had to kick out both their personifications in order to get any work done. The taking off of the shirt to flaunt that Herculean body became a fun trick that Russia liked to pull out at random times after that. He didn't do it often, but each time he did, it was always a surprise for America, who preferred to keep her clothes on around him, thank you very much.

She hated Russia, she did. He was not attractive. Each time America saw him, she found something to criticize. Besides being too pale and hairy, he had too many scars, to many deep gashes that actually gave her pain when she looked at them too long. The horrible, knotted scar over his heart only served helped in her suspicion that the man didn't have a heart, that it must have been carved out long ago, leaving him as cold as he was now. And besides the scars, he was too big in general, too unbelievably huge that served only to intimidate and not attract.

But there was one characteristic above all that always stalled Amelia from becoming too dangerously enchanted with the Slav, and that was the man's over all coldness. Like his sister Belarus, who had always been described as a great beauty, Russia was too cold. It was not just their pale, wintery complexions, as that was what attracted notice, but their icy, callous personalities made it hard for anyone to truly expect to get anywhere with them. Russia especially was quite unforgiving and cruel. How could anyone love him?

It was then that Amelia decided that perhaps having the physic of a god wasn't that alluring after all. No, she decided that she didn't like it, at least not on icy bastards that smiled too much without ever looking alive. Not with dark eyes that were too beautiful to be so dead on the inside.

But every time she would see him like that, putting himself out there for her eyes' enjoyment, Amelia would snarl before stalking off to hide the blush on her face, unable to admit fully to the feelings she felt. She didn't like him, not really despite his striking body. His character was weak, and that's what matter…but the threat of Soviet Power always hung over her.

After meetings she had with Russia, she would go home and lay down on her bed, thinking of what she knew and what she saw. The threat of the Soviet Union was still very prevalent in her life, always pushing forward against all odds. It frightened her tremendously, even as it fascinated and stimulate a small part of her.

She was not afraid, however, could not be. If the Soviet Union was going to push, so was she. America would be ready and waiting for the day when she and Russia would finally face off, marching to one another with the drums sounding in the distance with the battle cry of "V put'!", "Let's go!" in the distance on both sides. Only then did America believe she could finally be over her fixation with Russia without any more lingering doubt.

Stupid sexy commie...

Author's Note: Written because black lady22 asked for it. :) Good idea lady! I enjoyed writing this, to Soviet music (am I listening to too much of that?)…Does that make me less American? O_o

Music: V Put'!(Let's go)was written in 1954 by Vasily Solovyov-Sedoi and the poet was Mikhail Dudin. It's a wonderfully powerful military song that I think everyone can appreciate. And it really does reflect the power of the Soviet Union.

'Nother Note: But anyway, I'd love to hear from you all again. And thanks for all the kind words! Hope you liked this as well as the main story, though there really is no fluff in this. Like at all...

A sequel is in production and should be making an appearance soon~

Cheers!