For Alfred F. Jones, the day had started out normal.

With his heroic awesome, he made his presence known at the World Conference and thrusted his amazing and genius ideas upon the irritated nations. America, being oblivious to what most of the nations thought about his ideas, he still thought building a giant superhero would solve the world's problems.

As usual, England didn't quite see it in the same way as his ex-colony.

"It will never work," he sighed into his teacup, "Honestly, I would have thought you'd have listened to me by now. This isn't the first time you've come up with this ridiculous plan."

"It's not ridiculous!" America retorted defiantly, "My superhero will save the world and you'll all be happy that I thought of it!"

"It's absurd."

"Your eyebrows are absurd!"

England's eye twitched, "Stop being childish."

"I'm not being childish!"

"You are. Now stop it and sit down. Let one of the others present their sensible ideas!" England sighed once again and took another sip of tea. Sometimes America was hard work… okay scratch that, America was always hard work!

Huffing, the blue-eyed nation took his seat next to France as Germany stood up to give his presentation.

These conferences were so boring! All he did was sit there and try to look interested! If he could be anywhere right now, he'd rather be at home playing video games with Tony and eating McDonalds. And to make matters worse, the conference was being held in Moscow.

Of all places, why must it be here?

This stupid, snowy, stupid place held no point whatsoever. America couldn't fathom why on earth the conference would be held in a place like this, when his country was quite clearly more awesome.

He'd pouted all the way here and he'd pout until the end, and not even England could stop him.

While these thoughts were running through his head, America failed to notice the stares he was receiving from the host country.

Said host country was staring at the American with a predatory expression, but whenever he had a feeling someone had caught sight of it, he could quickly change it to that innocent smile that he was so famous for.

Thoughts and feelings rushed through Russia and he couldn't quite understand why he was witnessing them. This was America: the man he was once at war with. Now in the present they were on slightly better terms but he knew that the younger nation was messed up from said war. Russia took delight to that.

Now as he sat here in the conference room, watching the blond-haired nation's bored expression, he wished so badly that he could entertain him for a while. He watched his eyes and he wanted to see them begging for mercy.

The large Russian's violet gaze rested on America's cheeks. He wanted to see them pink with pleasure.

He looked at his lips. He wanted to hear him yell his name.

His train of thought had distracted him from Germany's presentation and now all eyes were on him. The dark aura surrounding the host nation seemed to put everyone on edge, including America. Russia slowly returned to normal and continued smiling, just wanting to hurt everyone for interrupting his thoughts.

No one dared to ask if he was all right in fear of their faces being hurt.

Russia sat there quietly and when it was his turn to present his ideas, he got shot down by America (as always) until England finally said something.

"Stop being so damn rude, America!" he snapped, glaring at the nation. America just huffed and he was about to retort with some Communist related theory until Russia decided to cut him off.

"It seems you do not like my ideas, America. In time, you will like them and like everyone else, you shall become one with me, da?"

"Hello no!"

Russia obviously didn't take no for an answer as he just replied, "Da," and took his seat again. America frowned and said, "Listen here you bastard, I will never 'become one' with you. I will become one with you when fuckin' Hell freezes over!" he laughed a bit and said no more.

Russia just smiled as America failed to realize that Hell had indeed frozen over.

Much to America's relief, the conference had finally finished (once Germany had concluded that they were getting absolutely nowhere when England and France started to argue). He sighed and stretched, loosening his muscles from being stuck in one position for so long. As the other nations hurried and cleared away their paperwork, and leave the room (England being the first to go), America however, had lost a few sheets of his own work and was hurriedly looking for them so he could get out of this Godforsaken place and get home.

Once again, he failed to notice that one other nation hadn't left yet either. Russia's amethyst orbs watched America as he panicked and frantically searched the floor and under books for his missing sheets.

When the American looked up and saw the large nation still sitting there, smiling as if nothing had happened, he almost had heart failure.

"Shit! What the Hell, man? Don't fuckin' do that! Jeez, you scared me to death!" he scolded and put his hands on his hips, "What are you still doing here anyways? Shouldn't you be at home now carrying out your Communist plans?"

"Nyet, America. There is something I need to do first," Russia smiled. He stood up and in one fluid motion (that America was sure the silver haired nation was not capable of) he was in front of him and his back was pinned to the table.

"What the-?"

"Quiet," Russia ordered and put his hands on the table either side of America so he could lean forward and invade America's personal space. America grimaced at the closeness of the other and when he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes widened when he felt lips against his own.

The first thing America thought was that the kiss tasted of vodka. This, of course, was expected of Russia and America expected no less. The next thing America thought was that he wasn't gay, and he was pretty sure Russia wasn't gay, so why on earth was he kissing him? Third… Holy Hell Russia is kissing him!

Russia's mind had instantly processed that America would attempt to push him away so his hands moved onto America's arms and kept them at his sides by holding onto his wrists. He moved closer to deepen the kiss and so that America couldn't move his head away to break their contact. His back was hurting from being pushed against the edge of the table. He winced a bit and Russia seemed to like this.

Forcing his tongue into America's mouth was a quest of its own. America had since closed his mouth and refused Russia access and the more he demanded it, the more he got turned down. A growl was heard from the Russian as his eyes narrowed at the defiant blue ones in front of him, and he grabbed America by the front of his jacket and quickly spun him around so he was now backed up against the wall. Russia pinned his hands above his head using one of his own and he used his free hand to get America to open up, as he was being stubborn still.

The Russian's hand slowly traced down America's chest and he watched as his cheeks turned from pink to scarlet once his hand had reached his pants. He skilfully unbuttoned America's pants and unzipped them (and ignored the boxers that were elaborately decorated with stars and stripes). This was enough to force America to gasp and Russia slipped his tongue inside.

From America's part, deciding that this was torture was harder that you would think. He had to admit, Russia was a good kisser and he knew what to do to get what he wanted (duh!). He felt the others tongue explore his mouth and it wasn't long before he was doing the exact same thing. For some reason… he liked it. He didn't know why, but he did. Of all people, Russia was the last person he would have even dreamt of kissing. It was ridiculous, but the deeper the kiss got, the more America liked it.

Russia watched him with a slightly curious expression and wondered why America was now finally returning the kiss. Not that me minded, though. He'd wanted this for a long time, that's for sure.

Wondering if this was just a trick to make him let go, Russia decided to take the risk and slowly removed his hand from America's wrists. He also moved his free hand away from his pants and placed both his hands on America's waist. America wrapped his arms around Russia's neck and gripped his hair after caressing the soft material of his scarf.

Their lips moved together and moulded with each other's perfectly, and neither would expect the intensity of the kiss to be so great.

At first, Russia just wanted to hear America moan in pleasure, and cry out his name but now… now he wanted something else. Yes America was a powerful nation in his own right, and could easily take care of himself but for some reason, Russia felt inclined to be there for him whenever he would need help, be that in the distant future or in a few days time.

As their thoughts finally came back to reality, and they both remembered that they needed air, they pulled away but stayed close. America's cheeks had turned a cute shade of red and he was looking away even though he made no move to get away from the Russian.

Russia, of course had other ideas. Grabbing the other nations hand and lacing their fingers together, he smiled, "You become one with me now, da?"

As he pulled America out of the room, Russia did not fail to notice that his new lover once again didn't put up a fight.

Hey guys.

Ugh! I admit, I used to hate this pairing and now for some bizarre reason, I can tolerate it. I don't know if I'll ever write for this pairing again so for now, all you RussiaxAmerica fans out there, enjoy this (even if I did suffer while writing it) xD

DISCLAIMER:

Hetalia belongs to the one and only Hidekaz Himaruya!

Title comes from Escape The Fate's song Gorgeous Nightmare (which I sadly do not own either).

~Iggy :)