Russia and France had been too close lately, and it was bugging America. His suspicion only grew when France denied it when America confronted him. Did France really think America didn't notice when France would sneakily pass a folded paper to Russia when he passed, or how France seemed to always excuse himself from meetings right after Russia left? Even England had noticed, though he was happy as long as France wasn't bothering him.

America was going to get to the bottom of it. He started with his friend Lithuania, determined to coax the truth out of him. Lithuania gave him a wide-eyed look that told America that he knew exactly what was going on, but Lithuania evaded the question.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, America. You should forget about it."

The awkward way Lithuania spoke, as well as the way he shifted from door to foot as though he'd rather be anywhere else but there betrayed his lie. America narrowed his eyes. If that was how it was going to be, so be it. He cornered Latvia, the smallest and most timid of the baltics, for his interrogation. For a moment, Latvia didn't seem to understand, and America thought maybe he wouldn't know anything, but then a look of understanding dawned on Latvia, and with it, a look of horror.

"I don't know anything!"

Latvia wailed, dissolving into tremors, eyes wide with horror. America pressed harder, but to no avail. Despite all his cajoling, coaxing, bribing and threatening, Latvia remained more fearful of Russia than America. Finally, America gave up in disgust. The only option left was to follow Russia and France and find out what was going on himself.

The next time France slipped from a meeting, America waited for Russia to go too, and followed after, as sneakily as he could. He managed to track them downtown when suddenly he lost sight of them. It didn't take long to locate France again, with his flashy outfit, but Russia was nowhere to be seen. The next thing America knew he was be in ng slammed against the wall and a cold pipe was pressed against his throat.

"Friend America, I wonder why you are spying on me?"

Russia asked pleasantly, excluding an aura that suggested he may like to beat America's head in. That didn't bother America one bit, as he was used to it.

"Nah, dude, I wasn't spying!"

He denied, laughing awkwardly. Russia narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but let America go.

"Good. We do not want another cold war, da?"

America had no choice but to retreat. Canada didn't understand why he had to entertain his sulking brother, but let him in anyways as America ranted.

"And If they're planning the start something, I won't be taken by surprise! The United States of America won't be defeated by anyone! By the way, bro, can I count on you to help me if they attack? You won't help France just cuz you're close, right?"

Canada blinked at the sudden question, completely bamboozled by his brother's words. He understood that it had something to do with Russia and France, and possibly America was expecting a fight, but more than that was beyond him.

"If who attacks?"

America rolled his eyes.

"God, do you listen to anything I say? Russia and France, of course!"

"What?"

America sighed, and launched into explanation from the beginning once again. By the time he finished, Canada was bother astonished and confused by America's train of thought.

"So because Russia and France are hanging out secretly you think they are planning to start a war against you?"

Canada summarized, flabbergasted. America didn't understand why it was so hard for Canada to understand.

"Duh."

Canada dropped his head to his hands.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you."

He grabbed America's hand and pulled him after him.

"Just come with me."

America didn't know what he had been expecting, probably a lot of guns and bombs and war plans, or the very least, knowing France, some sort of wierd flirting while Russia beat him off with a metal pipe. He had not been expecting to see both Russia and France in skin-tight leggings and t-shirts, both standing on their toes, engaging in something that America knew to be a type of dance, but there was no way.

America thought he must be going crazy, or maybe he'd accidentally eaten one of Canada's "special" brownies, because there was no other sensible reason for what he was seeing. France he could understand, but there was no way that Russia, cold, scary, intimidating Russia, was standing on his toes, dancing the ballet.

"Happy now?"

Canada asked. America's only response was to turn and retch Into the garbage can.

The next time America saw Russia follow France out of the meeting, he shuddered, but pretended he haRussia and France had been. Too close lately, and it was bugging America. His suspicion only grew when France denied it when America confronted him. Did France really think America didn't notice when France would sneakily pass a folded paper to Russia when he passed, or how France seemed to always excuse himself from meetings right after Russia left? Even England had noticed, though he was happy as long as France wasn't bothering him.

America was going to get to the bottom of it. He started with his friend Lithuania, determined to coax the truth out of him. Lithuania gave him a wide-eyed look that told America that he knew exactly what was going on, but Lithuania evaded the question.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, America. You should forget about it."

The awkward way Lithuania spoke, as well as the way he shifted from door to foot as though he'd rather be anywhere else but there betrayed his lie. America narrowed his eyes. If that was how it was going to be, so be it. He cornered Latvia, the smallest and most timid of the baltics, for his interrogation. For a moment, Latvia didn't seem to understand, and America thought maybe he wouldn't know anything, but then a look of understanding dawned on Latvia, and with it, a look of horror.

"I don't know anything!"

Latvia wailed, dissolving into tremors, eyes wide with horror. America pressed harder, but to no avail. Despite all his cajoling, coaxing, bribing and threatening, Latvia remained more fearful of Russia than America. Finally, America gave up in disgust. The only option left was to follow Russia and France and find out what was going on himself.

The next time France slipped from a meeting, America waited for Russia to go too, and followed after, as sneakily as he could. He managed to track them downtown when suddenly he lost sight of them. It didn't take long to locate France again, with his flashy outfit, but Russia was nowhere to be seen. The next thing America knew he was be in ng slammed against the wall and a cold pipe was pressed against his throat.

"Friend America, I wonder why you are spying on me?"

Russia asked pleasantly, excluding an aura that suggested he may like to beat America's head in. That didn't bother America one bit, as he was used to it.

"Nah, dude, I wasn't spying!"

He denied, laughing awkwardly. Russia narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but let America go.

"Good. We do not want another cold war, da?"

America had no choice but to retreat. Canada didn't understand why he had to entertain his sulking brother, but let him in anyways as America ranted.

"And If they're planning the start something, I won't be taken by surprise! The United States of America won't be defeated by anyone! By the way, bro, can I count on you to help me if they attack? You won't help France just cuz you're close, right?"

Canada blinked at the sudden question, completely bamboozled by his brother's words. He understood that it had something to do with Russia and France, and possibly America was expecting a fight, but more than that was beyond him.

"If who attacks?"

America rolled his eyes.

"God, do you listen to anything I say? Russia and France, of course!"

"What?"

America sighed, and launched into explanation from the beginning once again. By the time he finished, Canada was bother astonished and confused by America's train of thought.

"So because Russia and France are hanging out secretly you think they are planning to start a war against you?"

Canada summarized, flabbergasted. America didn't understand why it was so hard for Canada to understand.

"Duh."

Canada dropped his head to his hands.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you."

He grabbed America's hand and pulled him after him.

"Just come with me."

America didn't know what he had been expecting, probably a lot of guns and bombs and war plans, or the very least, knowing France, some sort of wierd flirting while Russia beat him off with a metal pipe. He had not been expecting to see both Russia and France in skin-tight leggings and t-shirts, both standing on their toes, engaging in something that America knew to be a type of dance, but there was no way.

America thought he must be going crazy, or maybe he'd accidentally eaten one of Canada's "special" brownies, because there was no other sensible reason for what he was seeing. France he could understand, but there was no way that Russia, cold, scary, intimidating Russia, was standing on his toes, dancing the ballet.

"Happy now?"

Canada asked. America's only response was to turn and retch Into the garbage can.

The next time America saw Russia follow France out of the meeting, he shuddered, but pretended he haRussia and France had been. Too close lately, and it was bugging America. His suspicion only grew when France denied it when America confronted him. Did France really think America didn't notice when France would sneakily pass a folded paper to Russia when he passed, or how France seemed to always excuse himself from meetings right after Russia left? Even England had noticed, though he was happy as long as France wasn't bothering him.

America was going to get to the bottom of it. He started with his friend Lithuania, determined to coax the truth out of him. Lithuania gave him a wide-eyed look that told America that he knew exactly what was going on, but Lithuania evaded the question.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, America. You should forget about it."

The awkward way Lithuania spoke, as well as the way he shifted from door to foot as though he'd rather be anywhere else but there betrayed his lie. America narrowed his eyes. If that was how it was going to be, so be it. He cornered Latvia, the smallest and most timid of the baltics, for his interrogation. For a moment, Latvia didn't seem to understand, and America thought maybe he wouldn't know anything, but then a look of understanding dawned on Latvia, and with it, a look of horror.

"I don't know anything!"

Latvia wailed, dissolving into tremors, eyes wide with horror. America pressed harder, but to no avail. Despite all his cajoling, coaxing, bribing and threatening, Latvia remained more fearful of Russia than America. Finally, America gave up in disgust. The only option left was to follow Russia and France and find out what was going on himself.

The next time France slipped from a meeting, America waited for Russia to go too, and followed after, as sneakily as he could. He managed to track them downtown when suddenly he lost sight of them. It didn't take long to locate France again, with his flashy outfit, but Russia was nowhere to be seen. The next thing America knew he was be in ng slammed against the wall and a cold pipe was pressed against his throat.

"Friend America, I wonder why you are spying on me?"

Russia asked pleasantly, excluding an aura that suggested he may like to beat America's head in. That didn't bother America one bit, as he was used to it.

"Nah, dude, I wasn't spying!"

He denied, laughing awkwardly. Russia narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but let America go.

"Good. We do not want another cold war, da?"

America had no choice but to retreat. Canada didn't understand why he had to entertain his sulking brother, but let him in anyways as America ranted.

"And If they're planning the start something, I won't be taken by surprise! The United States of America won't be defeated by anyone! By the way, bro, can I count on you to help me if they attack? You won't help France just cuz you're close, right?"

Canada blinked at the sudden question, completely bamboozled by his brother's words. He understood that it had something to do with Russia and France, and possibly America was expecting a fight, but more than that was beyond him.

"If who attacks?"

America rolled his eyes.

"God, do you listen to anything I say? Russia and France, of course!"

"What?"

America sighed, and launched into explanation from the beginning once again. By the time he finished, Canada was bother astonished and confused by America's train of thought.

"So because Russia and France are hanging out secretly you think they are planning to start a war against you?"

Canada summarized, flabbergasted. America didn't understand why it was so hard for Canada to understand.

"Duh."

Canada dropped his head to his hands.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you."

He grabbed America's hand and pulled him after him.

"Just come with me."

America didn't know what he had been expecting, probably a lot of guns and bombs and war plans, or the very least, knowing France, some sort of wierd flirting while Russia beat him off with a metal pipe. He had not been expecting to see both Russia and France in skin-tight leggings and t-shirts, both standing on their toes, engaging in something that America knew to be a type of dance, but there was no way.

America thought he must be going crazy, or maybe he'd accidentally eaten one of Canada's "special" brownies, because there was no other sensible reason for what he was seeing. France he could understand, but there was no way that Russia, cold, scary, intimidating Russia, was standing on his toes, dancing the ballet.

"Happy now?"

Canada asked. America's only response was to turn and retch Into the garbage can.

The next time America saw Russia follow France out of the meeting, he shuddered, but pretended he haRussia and France had been. Too close lately, and it was bugging America. His suspicion only grew when France denied it when America confronted him. Did France really think America didn't notice when France would sneakily pass a folded paper to Russia when he passed, or how France seemed to always excuse himself from meetings right after Russia left? Even England had noticed, though he was happy as long as France wasn't bothering him.

America was going to get to the bottom of it. He started with his friend Lithuania, determined to coax the truth out of him. Lithuania gave him a wide-eyed look that told America that he knew exactly what was going on, but Lithuania evaded the question.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, America. You should forget about it."

The awkward way Lithuania spoke, as well as the way he shifted from door to foot as though he'd rather be anywhere else but there betrayed his lie. America narrowed his eyes. If that was how it was going to be, so be it. He cornered Latvia, the smallest and most timid of the baltics, for his interrogation. For a moment, Latvia didn't seem to understand, and America thought maybe he wouldn't know anything, but then a look of understanding dawned on Latvia, and with it, a look of horror.

"I don't know anything!"

Latvia wailed, dissolving into tremors, eyes wide with horror. America pressed harder, but to no avail. Despite all his cajoling, coaxing, bribing and threatening, Latvia remained more fearful of Russia than America. Finally, America gave up in disgust. The only option left was to follow Russia and France and find out what was going on himself.

The next time France slipped from a meeting, America waited for Russia to go too, and followed after, as sneakily as he could. He managed to track them downtown when suddenly he lost sight of them. It didn't take long to locate France again, with his flashy outfit, but Russia was nowhere to be seen. The next thing America knew he was be in ng slammed against the wall and a cold pipe was pressed against his throat.

"Friend America, I wonder why you are spying on me?"

Russia asked pleasantly, excluding an aura that suggested he may like to beat America's head in. That didn't bother America one bit, as he was used to it.

"Nah, dude, I wasn't spying!"

He denied, laughing awkwardly. Russia narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but let America go.

"Good. We do not want another cold war, da?"

America had no choice but to retreat. Canada didn't understand why he had to entertain his sulking brother, but let him in anyways as America ranted.

"And If they're planning the start something, I won't be taken by surprise! The United States of America won't be defeated by anyone! By the way, bro, can I count on you to help me if they attack? You won't help France just cuz you're close, right?"

Canada blinked at the sudden question, completely bamboozled by his brother's words. He understood that it had something to do with Russia and France, and possibly America was expecting a fight, but more than that was beyond him.

"If who attacks?"

America rolled his eyes.

"God, do you listen to anything I say? Russia and France, of course!"

"What?"

America sighed, and launched into explanation from the beginning once again. By the time he finished, Canada was bother astonished and confused by America's train of thought.

"So because Russia and France are hanging out secretly you think they are planning to start a war against you?"

Canada summarized, flabbergasted. America didn't understand why it was so hard for Canada to understand.

"Duh."

Canada dropped his head to his hands.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you."

He grabbed America's hand and pulled him after him.

"Just come with me."

America didn't know what he had been expecting, probably a lot of guns and bombs and war plans, or the very least, knowing France, some sort of wierd flirting while Russia beat him off with a metal pipe. He had not been expecting to see both Russia and France in skin-tight leggings and t-shirts, both standing on their toes, engaging in something that America knew to be a type of dance, but there was no way.

America thought he must be going crazy, or maybe he'd accidentally eaten one of Canada's "special" brownies, because there was no other sensible reason for what he was seeing. France he could understand, but there was no way that Russia, cold, scary, intimidating Russia, was standing on his toes, dancing the ballet.

"Happy now?"

Canada asked. America's only response was to turn and retch Into the garbage can.

The next time America saw Russia follow France out of the meeting, he shuddered, but pretended he hadn't noticed anything. Sometimes it was better not to know.

dn't noticed anything. Sometimes it was better not to know.

dn't noticed anything. Sometimes it was better not to know.

dn't noticed anything. Sometimes it was better not to know.