A/N: Much like my cat, love is blind. Um, I guess all I can say is that this is what some people have to go through. I'm glad I wasn't born one of them. I'm new to the idea of this pairing so go easy on me when it comes to feedback. But please R&R if you would.

Enjoy.

Prologue

America,

Although you have a lovely speaking voice which tickles my ears and warms my cheeks like no other, you tend to spit a lot. Please make a conscious effort to keep your fluid in your mouth. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Appreciated

Canada peered curiously over his brother's shoulder at the paper in his hand, indigo eyes skimming the brief words written down in smooth handwriting. He blinked curiously when taking in the advice and tilted his head to gauge his brother's reaction. Alfred just stared blankly down at the small note, the other mail in hand from his cubby. It was almost like the words weren't sinking in.

He spit?

He spit when he talked?

That was absurd. His mouth was perfect which meant that he didn't drool like an infant needing a bib. A smile toyed at Alfred's lips as he turned to his brother, paper crumpling in his tightening fist. The perplexity didn't leave Canada's eyes when seeing the smile resume on Alfred's face, this one much different than the one before. This one looked slightly more forced. "Give me a break. Someone's leaving joke mail around again," Alfred said, dropping the crumpled note to the ground and stepped over it. "Wanna get something to eat?" he asked nonchalantly and gave a hardy pat to Canada's shoulder.

The Canadian stumbled at the force before catching himself, turning around and following after his twin. He pulled at his bear to keep him balanced in his arms and tried to keep a steady pace with Alfred's long strides. "What was that about?" he asked, voice laced with hesitant timidness that could never seem to be shaken from his vocal chords.

"Nothing," replied Alfred without skipping a beat. Canada blinked owlishly up towards him and knew otherwise. Although…Alfred didn't look particularly displeased with the suggestion, he didn't look as eager as he had before reaching his mail cubby. Quite frankly, Alfred didn't look that affected, if at all.

"Really? What'd it say?" the Canadian inquired lightly as to not scare his brother off onto a different topic as he was prone to do.

Alfred's smile resumed as he shuffled the different papers under his arm. "Someone thinks I spit," he laughed as if the idea in itself was appalling. He shook his head. What an absurd thought. To think he, Alfred, America, would spit when he talked was laughable. Humorous even. Because it wasn't true, of course. How could he spit? He would have noticed if he carried such a disgusting and displeasing habit around with him. Many people would have brought it up before this very moment; there were plenty of opportunities.

Alfred continued to chuckle earnestly. Now when he was eating was a different story, but when presenting? He wanted to bend over and slap his knee, the tears starting to come into his eyes. As he moved to wipe it away from under his glasses he caught the awkward, must-look-away-before-Alfred-catches-me-and-sees-exactly-what-I'm-feeling-right-on-my-face look. His laughter died off.

"Mattie?"

Canada grimaced lightly. "Well…" he faded off making Alfred pause and visibly show his confusion. "Sometimes, you know, when you get really excited you tend to…spit a little. But only sometimes! It's not all the time, just when you're excited." The Canadian would have waved his hands in alarm had he not been holding a thirty pound bear.

The gears inside of Alfred's head stuck for a moment before moving at a much slower pace. "Huh?"

Canada averted his gaze. "You kind of sort of definitely spit when you talk…"

Alfred would have went into his fit of hysterics once more had the look that Canada was sporting not been so convincing. He spit? Was that even possible? Alfred wasn't even sure if his brain could comprehend such a thing. What was next? Would people start to tell him that he wasn't as smart or handsomely wonderful as he was?

Preposterous.

To hide his sudden shame and slight self-consciousness, Alfred pretended that what his brother had just said didn't bother him, choosing to busy himself with his junk mail instead. "Hm. I'll have to watch that I guess."

Canada chanced a peek towards his taller more obnoxious twin and decided that Alfred wasn't going to go into a rant about how wrong Canada always was. "So what do you say about that meal?" Alfred asked, cheerful façade coming back. Canada thanked the Lord that it was contagious and matched Alfred's dismissing grin with a much tinier one.

"Sure. What are we getting?"

"Burgers."

He should have known.

America,

I was not sure if you were aware, but after the third portion of the ridiculous PowerPoint you constructed commenced, I noticed that the back of your shirt was untucked when you turned around. Normally I would have informed you of this, but the thought of an unkempt America brought joviality into my chest. It was much too adorable. I thank you for being naturally untidy, for your slipup distracted me from a very uninformative report that would have wasted valuable brain space.

Sincerely,

Amused

Alfred's fingers twitched over the new parchment, still written out with great precision. The letters were perfect cursive in nice, smooth black ink which made him secretly jealous. All he had was chicken scratch. Curiously, he bent around to get a good look at his derrière and found that his shirt was in fact drooped over the back of his suit. Huh. Weird. It must've come undone when he'd went to the bathroom.

Shifting to stare blankly down at the very conflicting letter that made him unsure how to feel about such things being said towards him, Alfred did as he did with the last one. He crumpled it.

What a stupid thing to tell him.

Unfortunately, to Alfred's horrifying surprise, the rate at which these insulting yet complimenting letters arrived in his conference cubby multiplied. Instead of coming in one per meeting like they had the past two times, they were now coming in one per whenever this person felt like it. The next day when Alfred went to see his mail for any announcements, his box was full of strange little letters, each sealed with a sticker of a purple heart on the back.

America,

Even though you feel that it is important to instruct every person present for this summit the proper way to prepare for a fire, it is quite possibly the most disruptive thing I have ever witnessed. Should there ever be a fire in the building, please let the professionals handle the situation. Nevertheless, seeing you believe you were in control was both fascinating and enjoyable all at once.

Sincerely,

Entertained

America,

Your chair broke this afternoon while you were waiting for everybody in the lobby. The face you made was simply delightful, however, I do not wish for you to be injured over something as frivolous as your weight. Please partake in a healthier diet, for your girth is starting to cause problems for both you and chair manufacturers.

Sincerely,

Looking out for you

America,

I have never noticed before but you seem to have a red mark on your elbow. I am unaware if that is an abnormal skin pigmentation that you were disfigured with from the birthing process or if it was from your chair accident from earlier today. Either way I am concerned. Please get that checked properly by an adequate physician.

Sincerely,

Mildly concerned

A tightening pulled inside of Alfred's throat as he fingered through the bundle of neatly written letters in his hands. He sat with them at the conference table, littered before him like some unwanted, unknown new species of insect; they were repelling and captivating at the same time. He couldn't even…think.

What the hell was this? All of these words were clogging his brain with unneeded thoughts. He was feeling both insulted, flattered, creeped out, and irritated all at once. Who was wasting all of their valuable time writing this nonsense anyway?

"Dobraya Utrah, dear America."

That childlike voice and eerie shadow hovering suddenly over Alfred's head didn't do anything but make his brow furrow further down at the papers. He didn't even have to look up to know that it was that big lummox, Russia.

"Go away. I'm kinda busy right now." As if to prove his point he waved his hand in dismissal. Russia merely giggled and leaned over to get a better look at what Alfred was doing.

"Oh, how admirable. So America too can work hard when he so chooses," announced Russia with ease, voice dripping with mock surprise. Alfred frowned deeper, leaning closer to his mail pile to concentrate more. Russia continued to peer curiously down at the blonde and his papers. "What is it we are looking at?" he inquired earnestly.

"Shoo," Alfred stated, getting steadily more annoyed with Russia's distracting presence. For crying out loud he was trying to think of things. Like how whether to settle on feeling personally invaded or full out paranoia. Russia hummed in thought before taking a careful step back, moving to pull the chair out from beside Alfred and take a seat. The action only furthered Alfred's progress to forget completely what he was thinking about.

"It is important to you, da? Perhaps I can assist you, comrade!" Russia chirped, clasping his hands together in petty excitement. The American felt an annoyed growl seeping up from the bottom of his chest. He looked up from his letters for the first time since Russia's arrival and stared at the smiling Russian.

"I'm not your comrade. And you can't help so shoo." Again, another wave away. Russia didn't seem fazed by this, instead leaning in to take a good look at what was before his blonde political ally.

"You are throwing a party?" Russia asked and tilted his head.

Alfred didn't quite follow Russia's logic. "Pardon?"

"Such nice paper is only used for important messages such as parties and events. I am so jealous. You will be sending me an invitation as well, I should hope," Russia teased, his cheeks starting to rosy under the unamused gaze he was receiving. He leaned back and fiddled with the fringe of his scarf, nose scrunching up and making his violet eyes curve upwards like crescent moons. "I wish you would not look at me in such a way, America. It distresses me."

Alfred blinked stupidly before shaking his head and turning back to the letters, making sure to fold them up so Russia or anyone else couldn't see the contents inside. They were too…was embarrassing the word he was looking for? Because he wasn't so sure it was.

"I'm not throwing a party," he said and blew an indignant puff of air from his nose.

"No? I was almost certain that that was the case. Why do you have such elegant stationary then?" questioned Russia with unabashed curiosity. It was almost sickening to see someone of his size act so blatantly childish and – and weird. Weirdo.

"They aren't mine." With a huff, Alfred scooped all of the rudely kind letters up and shoved them roughly into his briefcase.

"My, my. You are full of secrets today," giggled the amused Russian. Alfred scowled. What right did he have to be amused about? Here he was taking up his precious space bubble with his big nose and long scarf and fat, stupid…Communism! Yeah, that was it. He was prying into his business when he shouldn't; probably to laugh at him and poke fun at him like he did with all the others. Well Alfred would have the last laugh, so there.

Standing up abruptly Alfred picked up his suitcase and ignored how Russia's perceiving eyes followed him. "Seems that way I guess. It was great talking with you, Russia. Except not really. You kind of just distracted the fuck out of me. But I appreciate your effort to pry into my personal affairs. Can't blame a guy for trying. I'd do the same if I were in your position. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably get the ball rolling on this whole 'conference' thing."

He didn't even spare the entertained smile Russia gave him the time of day as he made his way towards the front of the room, abandoning any and all hope for trying to gauge the intent behind the letters for today. He'd get around to it later.

Who cared anyway? It wasn't like they were going to occupy his mind for very long.