Rated M. This is a piece of literary fiction. The Author does not claim ownership pertaining to the ideas/characteristics/ect, of Hetalia or any subsidiary thereof.

Okay, lovely readers, I have a ton of votes for GerAme, RusAme, DenAme, and Netherica. Yes, I love Papa Bear Finland too. XD

Rated M.

OoOoOo

The President had not been overly thrilled with her attacking Russia with her body. America thought it was perfectly warranted. Had he not just said that she had to date the Slavic psychopath? The same jackass that had the nerve to talk about her kissing him.

Which had totally been for a valid reason and not some strange attraction! Or... anything... weird like that.

Stupid politics. Russia just had to go and make some good terms. America never saw that one coming. Now she was stuck with him, for a while.

Then they had been summarily tossed out of the White house and told to 'have fun'. She was half-certain that 'fun' to Russia involved someone bleeding or a form of dismemberment. Russia had decided that they would go for a walk in the park.

What the hell? America was already displeased by this.

Okay. She could deliver a stunning jab to his face, a round house kick to his solar plexus and bolt.

America was certain she could manage it.

Until she caught sight of the two black-ops teams following them. One belonging to her, fucking amazing, forces. And... the ones that belonged to... Russia.

The Russia that was holding her hand captive. Blue eyes glared behind Texas. The indignities she bore for the American people. She was a saint! No. A martyr! Russia seemed completely unperturbed by the fact that many highly trained soldiers had been given orders to follow them so that America would not escape him again.

She vaguely wondered if they were really necessary. None of them, dressed in civilian clothes, looked terribly pleased to be there. In fact, they all seemed... vaguely embarrassed. Was one of Russia's men snickering behind his hand or coughing?

Hm.

Russia wouldn't admit to being behind the nefarious plot. But, America knew it was him. So, she made it slightly more difficult for him. The female nation was perfectly content to make him drag her upon occasion, but digging in her heels. Like a cat avoiding the bath with every last shred of its will.

He seemed to sense her reluctance, well and the fact she looked ready to murder him on the spot.

"Having fun?"

"Oodles," she said with distain nearly dripping from the word.

"Excellent. Would you like an Iced cream?" The violet eyes seemed to bore into her blue ones. His hand tightened around hers, and out of reflex, she squeezed back.

"It's nine in the morning." She commented, and looked away. "Too soon for ice-cream."

He tilted his head, and narrowed his gaze.

"I have seen you eat it earlier than now."

America internally froze. Shit. He was right. Think. Think. Use your spectacular brain and come up with-

Ah ha!

"Those were... special occasions." She snapped out defensively. Her grip on his hand tightening further.

Russia responded in kind. The hold grew slightly uncomfortable.

"This is a date. It is special." He insisted, with his accent deepening.

She scoffed at that. He frowned at her. America tried to tug her hand away, but Russia would not allow it. She was just being stubborn, he thought.

"It is not!" The female nation shouted, blushing as she did so.

"It is!"

They each squeezed harder on the other's hand, until it would have broken a human's bones.

"No!"

"Da!"

"Speak English." She growled with her blue eyes flashing behind Texas.

"There is nothing wrong with Russian!" He snarled.

"Oh oh! Really now?!"

"Pardon me," An America soldier interrupted, and the two nations turned to glare heatedly at him. "Ma'am, maybe you'd like something warm to drink?"

America's ire melted at the sight of one of her people. She smiled at him brightly, slightly thankful for the distraction, though she was never going to say it.

"What a great idea. How reasonable." The implication was more of a dig at Russia.

"How surprising, for one of your people." He mused aloud with a nearly cold grin.

"You wanna fight? Is that it?" America snarled at him. "Come on commie!"

"I am not a communist!" He shouted angrily.

"I know!"

"Then stop calling me-"

"Make me!"

"You are an impossible woman!"

"And you love it!"

They both seemed to still. A twin pair of blushes on their faces as America had inadvertently crossed the line they both refused to acknowledge.

Blue eyes met violet and they both glanced away.

Well, that could not have been more awkward. Russia dropped her hand, as if it burned him. America groaned internally. Where the hell was Australia when she needed him? Or Canada? Maybe Canada would have been a better choice.

Someone cleared their throat, and America gloomily hated her life for a few moments.

"So... tea?"

Russia took another step away from her. Looking as if he were a man on a mission.

"Da. Tea."

OoOoOo

"Wow." Canada commented, as America nearly fell against him. She'd come to his house to escape the 'unbearably awkward, terrible, and unmentionable date.'

Though he hadn't gotten the full story from her yet, America had made mention that somewhere along the way, Russia had actually turned out to be not so bad. Which was akin to a compliment from America.

Which threw Canada for a loop.

"It was awful dude." The female nation groaned.

"I am sure it wasn't-"

"Awful!" America insisted with a near-wail of despair. "You weren't there! Why weren't you there?"

The Northern Nation rubbed the back of his neck .

"Why would I be on your date?"

She pointed a finger at him.

"Don't bring logic into this." America groaned. "Where is the hot chocolate? I need it."

"In the Kitchen," Canada said with fond exasperation. "Have you heard from Finland recently?"

America glanced at him while shaking her head to the negative.

"Nah. He's busy. I tried calling him, but he didn't answer."

"Huh." The male nation pondered that. Well, when America was involved, it could get complicated. "Oh! speaking of calling. Denmark called me earlier."

America trudged toward the kitchen, looking for the kettle. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"What did he want?"

"To ask me about you."

America blushed slightly. "Well...okay. What's that mean?"

Canada laughed quietly.

"I am not quite sure. Either way, he's going to be here soon."

"What?!"

Her neighbor looked as confused as she felt.

"What? I just told you he wanted to ask me about you."

"Yeah! On the phone!"

"No, in person. I just said that he called. You assumed. You know what they say about-"

"Finish that sentence," America quipped, "I dare ya."

Canada smirked, and got out the hot chocolate mix as America filled the kettle with water.

"You don't scare me."

She snorted at that.

"Yeah... I know."

Canada gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, as he set down the powder next to her, and wandered off for cups.

OoOoOo

Northern Italy had called her, insisting she visit so that he could apologize for showing her such... startling things. America had laughed with embarrassment as she waved it off. One flight later, where they did not serve Coke as a soda -seriously what was wrong with the world these days?- and America was touching down at a familiar airport.

Northern Italy nearly danced around when he saw her as America hurried over.

"Dude! You grew?!"

His green eyes widened.

"Really?"

"No, I'm messing with you."

The male nation smiled widely as they hugged. Actually, it was more that America grabbed him into one, because he was so small and adorable. She nearly cooed at him. He was like that adorable person you just wanted to take home and keep.

In a non-creepy and non-porn way. Which made her shudder at the mere thought.

"Are you alright?" Italy asked, seeing her pained expression.

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." America responded brightly.

Someone grabbed her arm, and the Star-spangled nation felt herself being tugged. Blue met blue. A look of hunger and determination was on a very handsome but familiar face. Before she could react, America was pulled into an embrace.

Her blue eyes rounded and she blinked owlishly as he pulled back.

"Germany?"

America barely had time to finish his name, the question lingered on her lips. The one where she asked what he was doing here. However, she never got that far. The European nation leaned down and kissed her.

The Star-Spangled nation stilled. Her eyelids fluttered closed. They opened again when Germany pulled back. Her slightly shocked gaze slid over to the other nation nearby.

Italy beamed at her.

"Oh, I forgot to mention. I told Germany you were coming!" The smaller nation said brightly. "He was really excited about the news. Weren't you Germany?"

The European nation flushed to the roots of his hair. He looked vaguely uncomfortable as he inched slightly closer to her.

"Ja." he confirmed.

What? He kissed her because he was...Oh. Oh!

America had nearly forgotten about his welcoming custom! She grinned at her own foolishness and laughed it off.

"I'm glad to see you too!" She replied honestly. "Let me just grab my bags, okay?"

OoOoOo

Finland stared across the desk, with Sweden at his side, to an unflinching Denmark. In fact, the fellow Nordic nation looked at ease, and rather pleased.

"Now, I understand that you and America have fairly good... relations." Finland said lowly, clearly not as content with the situation as Denmark.

"You bet!" He replied with a wink.

Sweden stared him down intently.

"Oh don't worry," Denmark said to the stoic nation, "I'm not after your 'wife'. I'm after my own."

The air seemed to chill by twenty degrees as the ling of Finland's mouth set into a strange smile.

"Is that so?"

Denmark gave his best charming look.

"Of course! I am 100% serious about this Finny!"

"Don't call me Finny."

"Surely you're joking? I always call you Finny." The Nordic nation pointed out.

"No. And don't call me Shirley either."

Denmark blinked at that one.

Sweden shook his head, and sighed to himself.

"F'nl'nd" He chastised gently.

The other nation glanced at him, before relenting.

"It says here that you... celebrate America's independence day. Is that true?"

Denmark gave him a strange look, before leaning forward in his chair.

"Yes. You know that. You've come to several of the celebrations. You even helped with the fireworks. Don't you remember?"

Finland speared him was a blank look.

"I believe that I am the one that asks the questions here." He reminded the exuberant nation formally.

"Oh I see!" Denmark replied with conviction. "You're worried about how America will be at my house! Don't worry. I even put in a new bed for her."

That caught his attention, Finland eyed him curiously. Did this mean that Denmark would keep his filthy hands off of Finland's little daughter? Well, not quite so little, really.

"Is that so?"

"Yes!" Denmark commented with genuine enthusiasm.

That settled the other nation down a bit, and his frosty demeanor thawed a bit.

"Well, I am sure America will appreciate such a consideration."

"I hope so," The Nordic nation replied happily. "I look forward to breaking it in with her!"

Sweden reached around and grabbed the back of Finland's shirt before he could launch himself at Denmark.

"Th'nk y'u D'nm'rk." The stoic nation rumbled in a monotone manner.

"Anytime!" He said cheerily, as he gave a mock salute, "I'm off to find America."

"You stay away from her!"

Denmark grinned sensually.

"No Finny, I don't think I will."