America spread the mat out on the floor, and got out the spinner. "What is the point of this game?" Belarus asked, sitting on the couch and eying the colorful mat warily.

"It's called Twister!" America said with his trademark smile on his face. "It's easy- here, I'll show you." He took off his shoes and threw them carelessly in the corner, then flicked the spinner and watched it to see where it landed. "Right hand, blue." He bent down and placed one hand in a blue circle. "See? Easy!"

Belarus, still looking suspicious, gave the spinner a careful push. "Right foot, yellow," America deciphered for her, and the girl cautiously touched her right toe to a yellow spot.

"Easy enough," She told the American in her thick accent, and he smiled. Belarus gave him her trademark glare in return.

"Right hand, blue."

"Left foot, green."

"Left hand, yellow."

The game went on for hours, much longer than a normal game would, and the two were both noticeably tired from the ordeal. But, being as competitive as the two were, they kept at it, carefully twisting and turning, putting their hands in strategic spots, making a child's game seem like an Olympic sport.

"Right hand, green."

"Right foot, red."

"Left foot, blue."

Over and over again, the same routine, stretching precariously to spin the spinner, sometimes so dangerously close to each other they could hear the other's wild heartbeat.

"Right hand, red." Belarus stretched her hand across America's body, planting herself with an assured look on her face. America was sprawled underneath her, looking up at her with endearing eyes. Belarus found herself looking into them, their faces close, warm breath mingling.

It was then America moved, not to spin the spinner, but to reach up and plant a kiss on Belarus' lips. The shock was enough to break her stance, collapsing on top of him. They were soon both on the ground, entangled in each other's arms and kissing with wild abandon.

America's jacket was draped carelessly over the back of the sofa, Belarus' apron hung on a doorknob. The Twister mat was in a heap in the corner, left forgotten by the young lovers. They kissed and cuddled for hours, but for them, it only seemed like an instant.

America looked down at her, a playful smile on his lips. "So, who won?" He couldn't help but ask.

The girl shook her head, though she couldn't help but smile. "Shut up," She replied simply, covering his mouth with a kiss.