((A/N)): Yes, yes. I know. Another short one-shot. I'm sorry, guys, but this is all I have time for. And I kinda like writing them and not having to worry about tons and tons of plot. I'm working on a longer AmeBel story so I'll try to post that this summerish? I don't know.

AmeBel fluff~ Have fun.

[Disclaimer]: I don't own anything. I don't own Hetalia or the image used.

A bench. To the passersby, the two people looked only like a couple sitting on a bench together. A short woman, her long platinum hair secured by a simple white ribbon, and a man, his blue eyes sparkling brighter than the sun. The two held hands, not speaking or looking at each other, and only watched the passersby. Occasionally the male, not used to sitting still, would shift slightly before settling once more. But the woman remained motionless. After a time, the man spoke, not looking over at her.

"Natty, do you remember?"

The woman didn't answer, only closing her violet eyes.

X~X~X

"Whatcha' doin'?"

Natalya scowled, hunching her shoulders a little as she adjusted her breezy skirt and sat back down on the bench. "Reading," she muttered— her accent evident in her voice though she's been living in America for nearly a decade. Her eyes fell back down to the book in her lap as the man snorted.

"I don't think so!" The man leaned over her shoulder, pressing his presumably filthy fingers to the pages. "Look at this! It's in a book but all the letters are messed up. See! This one's backwards!"

Natalya jerked away, glaring up at the oaf she'd never met. "It's Cyrillic! And leave me alone."

The man shrugged, plopping down next to her on the bench. "Don't have t'! It's a free country." His eyes narrowed. "Something I'll bet you know nothing about, Russki."

She gritted her teeth, scowling over at the offending American. "I'm actually not from Russia. I'm from Minsk, Belarus."

He tilted his head to the side, "Was that still a part of the USSR?"

"Da.." Natalya sighed, hesitating before speaking in English, "Yes."

"Hah! Commie!" The man laughed.

"Capitalist!"

"Soviet!"

"American!"

There was a moment of tense silence before a broad grin spread across his lips, forming in a million dollar smile as he held out his hand to her, "Alfred F. Jones."

She scowled at the hand, not taking it, "Natalya Arlovskaya…"

"Well, Miss Arlovskaya, you seem quite humorous."

"Please, just leave me alone."

Shaking his head, Alfred scooted just a little closer, "No… I don't think so. You're cute and funny. I don't think I'll leave."

Natalya huffed, looking back down at her book, "You'll have to leave sometime. You can't be here with me forever."

Alfred frowned as if considering this. "Hmm… Maybe not. Or!" His face lit up with a bright grin again as he touched her hand tentatively. "Maybe I'll just marry you!"

She scowled again, jerking her hand away, "I don't even know you. Nyet!"

"Not yet," Alfred clarified, his smile softening, "Give me five years."

Natalya shook her head.

"Just five years, Natalya. I'll turn that no into a yes."

X~X~X

Five years later, Natalya opened her eyes and squeezed his fingers as the unanswered question hung in the air. Did she remember?

"Da," she spoke softly.

Alfred smiled, neither of them looking over to each other.

"I remember."

Alfred swallowed nervously, "Natty… D-Did I do it?" It had started off as a joke, but now it was anything but. "Did I turn your no into a yes?"

Natalya's smile echoed his from long ago as she finally glanced over at the anxious American, "Da."

Alfred looked over, meeting her gaze with that same grin. "Will you marry me, Miss Arlovskaya?" He asked quietly, needing to hear it again. To make sure.

"Da… Yes, Alfred."

Five years. Five years and he had done it. He'd turned her hate into love.

((A/N)): Oh and I have a few more one-shots too... Yeah.