Wiktor: Hallo, friends. I trust that all of you have had a nice holiday? I am very sorry it has taken me so long to write this chapter. I broke my right hand and arm skiing, so it's sort of hard to write now. I am doing my best, honest! Sorry again, friends. Because I was gone so long, this chapter will be twice as long. I hope you like it.


To my readers: I am going to continue writing this story consistently, but I am also going to be taking two more requests at the same time. I received an e-mail from a former fanfiction writer who wishes me to write some things for her favorite pairing, Russia/Spain. It is a strange one, but I felt like it could be really fluffy and adorable if done correctly. I have never thought of shipping it at all, but I will be taking this request purely for creative interest. The only reason I am telling you all, is because I wanted to reassure you that I will continue to write this current fic at the same pace that I have been. I promise my attention will not slack on this one. I will also be doing a series of crack one shots for various pairings that are requested of me. I have nine pending so far.


America plowed his shovel into the snow bank, chucking another heap behind him while he whistled. Over the duration of the past week, he hadn't learned anything new about Austria. In other words, he was getting nowhere fast with his idea of playing hero. It was harder than expected; Austria taught him what was needed and then disappeared for the rest of the afternoon. There was no chance for any form of interaction or talking and America was beginning to realize how much he really didn't know about Austria...And how much his intriguing mystery was driving America to want to know a little bit more. Not that he had to. This was all for political curiosity after all and just political curiosity. America wasn't sure where he retreated off to but, as far as he could guess, it had to do with this whole financial crisis theory of his; secret dealings through the phone and the like. America knew this sort of game, unfortunately he was all too experienced. Still, Austria gave him no evidence of any financial turmoil whatsoever. He was definitely well off, in a wonderful home with exquisitely trained staff, beautifully tailored clothing, and an abundance of expensive artifacts lining his corridors.

America frowned and spat into the snow, clearing away a large chunk of ice from the courtyard path and pushing it meticulously to the side. His leads were going fast, but one thing that Burkhart had told him a few days ago resonated like a bell through his thoughts.

I have known my Master for years. I have lived here for my whole career with my wife, Johanna. And yet, he does not give me answers, even when I ask. Does he not trust me?

The statement and eerie question had come up in casual conversation, and was the only thing America had left to play off of. He had come to the shaky conclusion that though Burkhart and Johanna had lived with Austria for many years, Austria still didn't have the level of trust with them to reveal any deep secrets, obviously. The two were only human, so why not tell them? They would die eventually and carry whatever it was with them to the grave. Nah, that wasn't it. Austria was sharper than America had once thought he was, and wouldn't be dumb enough to confide in a human. Humans were far too anxious to share information; they would probably go to the papers for even the slightest sum and a scandal would erupt. Whole administrations had crumbled in the past because of the inability of humans to keep their mouths shut for countries. But, countries were a bit different. They knew how to keep secrets, or at least some where capable of the task, due to their having to retain so much information over hundreds of years. And this brought America to his only, and extremely pathetic, idea. He would have a week to become the best person in Austria's life. He would go as far as to say he would have to become his best friend. If he could get close enough, maybe he could help. But the task seemed absolutely impossible. There was no way that in nine days he could accomplish such a feat, and he had no idea how to relate to Austria. He was different than the others he knew in a way he could not understand. America ran his hands through his hair and stood straight, admiring the job he had done on the courtyard clearing the snow. Maybe Austria would be interested in knowing more about him too…That would make things easier. But why would Austria want to associate with someone like America? They were both high class and lived lavish lives, but America was far from elegant. Man, this was a little nerve wracking.

America turned back to the house and noticed Burkhart watching him awkwardly through the window, still in his dark blue nightshirt. America beamed through his tension and the morning air, waving and earning a sneer of distain from the valet.

America noticed but didn't care. Instead he cupped his hands around his mouth. "Morning!" He called across the yard, causing several of the maid's quarters upstairs to light up as angry women appeared in the frosty windowpanes, whispering crossly in a sleepy fashion amongst themselves. Burkhart threw his hands in the air and yelled something back from the house, throwing the window open and scowling impatiently in response.

"Master Alfred, what on earth are you doing?!" He barked from the pane. "Why are you shoveling?"

"I thought that Austria and I could take a walk this morning and I don't like getting snow in my shoes!" America yelled back, still grinning, and pointing to his shoes. "Do me a favor and get him up?"

Burkhart shook his head and crossed his arms. "I am afraid I cannot do that." He replied in a matter of fact tone.

America wasn't ready to accept defeat. He planted his shovel into the snow, casually leaning against it and stumbling a bit when it couldn't support his weight. "Come on," He began covertly, "Just tell him that there's a fire or something. That always works for me when I wanna wake people up at world meetings!"

Burkhart was dumbfounded by America's superciliousness. "Why on earth would I do that? I would never lie to my master about something as serious as a fire! This isn't funny; it is a hazard!"

Well, it couldn't be helped then; America would have to take things into his own two hands and do what he was best at. He cupped his hands around his mouth, looking back to Burkhart with a childish smile. This was his final chance.

"Don't you dare do it!" Burkhart growled forebodingly, gripping at the edge of the window and leaning outside. "Don't do it!" He warned again, as if something horrendous would happen to America if he spoke.

"Too late!" America laughed cockily, taking a deep breath and letting out what he thought was a moderately convincing cry of panic. "Holy shit! There's a fire!" He called as loud as his voice would carry. Almost immediately, the maids watching from the upstairs windows scrambled and flew over one another in a cloud of coats and long silky night wear, screaming frantically through the halls. America tried to hold his wits together when Burkhart nearly leaped through the window, chasing him down through the courtyard and kicking up a rather hectic cloud of snow in his rage. America couldn't keep from laughing aloud when he turned and ran, slipping in the snow when Burkhart's palm collided hard with his jaw line.

America had to admit it; that one stung. He yelped sharply and grabbed a handful of snow, pressing it to his face as he hissed in pain. "God dammit, dude, what the hell is wrong with you?!" He whined, cradling his face in his hands. "That hurt!"

"What is wrong with me? The manor is in an uproar because of your foolish actions! You are lucky that I don't call the authorities on a lie like this!" Burkhart scolded furiously, nearly chomping at the bit to hit America once again, this time in hopes of breaking bone. He grabbed him from the collar and pulled him from the snow, dragging him up from the ground and forcing America to look him in the eye. "What do you want from us?! You have been nothing but trouble here! Do you want to make our holiday a misery?"

America pushed off of Burkhart's shoulders, careful to remain conscious of his strength, breaking free from his seething grip on his jacket. "Well at least I'm trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with Austria, and it looks like I'm the only one who is! I need to talk to him alone and he never gives me a chance, so this was the only way I could drag him out here!" America countered back, adding legitimacy to his ridiculously rash decision. "He's obviously never gonna tell you anything and he leaves after our lessons, so I'm gonna have to force him to get to know me. What else am I supposed to do?"

Burkhart brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose in a mixture of puzzlement and discontent. "There were other ways that you could have gone about this." He mumbled, calming down a little and pulling his glasses from his pocket before setting them in their rightful place upon his nose. "Forgive me for striking you, but you deserved that, acting like a deranged teenager!"

America shrugged in understanding though slightly hurt. Burkhart looked at him like everyone else. "Yeah, I usually do deserve it, I guess. Sorry I yelled." He still couldn't believe that Burkhart had gathered the gusto to hit him, however. It was almost respectable, that much courage. It showed he wasn't all that much of a pansy, and America liked that a little, no matter how much it had made his face throb.

"It is fine. Please," He held up a hand, desperate for answers and finally realizing America's motives in a more secure way, "now that you have caused all of this chaos, at least don't let it go to waste."

America gave him a small half smile and drew his hand away from his face, skin now numb with the cold. "No promises, but I can try."

"Feuer?! Ruf die Polizei! (Fire?! Call the police!)" Austria instructed frantically, stumbling outside with several half dressed workers. He turned and quickly and scanned the outside of the building for any sign of growing flames, frowning and turning to America when he saw none. "Ich verstehe nicht. Wo ist Johanna? (I don't understand. Where is Johanna?)"

Johanna pushed her way around a few of the girls and threw herself into Burkhart's arms, scrutinizing him and making sure he wasn't hurt and willing herself to calm from what appeared to be a heavy panic attack. America swallowed thickly and shoved his hands deep in his pockets, wincing. He was beginning to feel sort of bad at this point, scaring everyone like he did. It was effective like he had wanted, but the negative reaction far outweighed his expectation for what was to come. He didn't think everyone would go to pieces as bad as they had.

"What's happened?" Austria demanded, confused.

America rubbed at the back of his collar. "Yeah, erm," He began gradually, trying to ease Austria into the situation as calmly as he could, "there sorta isn't a fire."

Austria blinked and crossed his arms, shivering in the cold. "What do you mean there is no fire?" He replied in disorientation. "Why would you tell us there is one when there isn't?"

America cleared his throat. "I just wanted to get you outside for a little while," he muttered under his breath. "I wanted to talk to you, but I knew you wouldn't get up." He tried to laugh the catastrophe off as furious workers began to grumble to him in German, retreating back into the house in a collective huff. "So I decided to make a fake fire! Funny right?" He chuckled again, but Austria was far from amused.

"Do you think this is funny?" He spat in frustration. "That is it. Get out of my house!" He demanded. "I want you out of my country!"

America moved forward, not afraid of Austria's display of antagonism. "Come on, Austria, don't be that way. Think about it, would you have gotten up if I asked you to?"

"Don't turn this around on me."

"Would you, though?"

"…No."

America gave him a soft, sociable smile. "Then this worked! No one got hurt, so I don't know why you're so pissed off about this."

Austria felt his jaw tighten. America needed to be punished. He drew a sharp breath and raised a hand to lash out, stopping when he noticed the finger marks already burned into the side of America's face. Someone had already hit him. America flinched, preparing for another blow to the jaw, but blinked in surprise when Austria let his hand fall to his side.

"You are hopeless." He mumbled, turning to go back inside. He couldn't bring himself to leave a second mark on America's face.

"Wait, I need to talk to you about some stuff." America said hurriedly. "Sorry I caused this whole mess, I just wanted to…" He trailed off, unsure of how to start. He couldn't rush this; Austria would suspect something and America would never find out what was going on.

"Wanted to what?" Austria huffed, spinning back around.

"To get to know you better." America decided on saying. It wasn't too overbearing, and was unclear enough to throw Austria off of any trail he may have caught wind of.

Austria was taken aback and, frankly, a little bit stunned. A modern, brisk country like America had taken interest in a leisurely, lackluster country like him? How eccentric. Young people hardly took any interest in him anymore, or went through such exaggerated methods to converse with him. "What more could you possibly want with me?"

America shrugged with a beam. "I don't know anything about you. I'm staying at your house, so I figured we could learn some more about one another to make it less awkward between us."

America made a valid contention. Austria honestly knew very little about America as well, if not less than America knew about him. Still, he hadn't been shown any intrigue in many a year, and wasn't sure how to start.

"I cleared the snow off of the path so we could walk together," America said enthusiastically, trying his best to keep Austria's undivided attention.

This was far too awkward for Austria's liking. How long had America been outside shoveling? This sort of specialized attention was nice, but it was better to not get involved with other countries like America. He made too much light of things, and it was unbelievably irritating how overly confident and free he was with his words. But that confidence also gave him spirit, and Austria was beginning to admire his incredible persistence. America really was unlike anyone he had met; he was surprisingly compassionate but unbelievably idiotic, with a fascinating inability to read the mood and non-verbals of others and a powerful sense of justice…just not of social norms and formalities.

"It is too cold for such things." Austria lied, turning his back to America once more.

"I can fix that! I always know what to do." America giggled, contentment finally revitalized, before reaching up and tugging off his jacket. He flew forward and tackled Austria in a mass of faded leather and wool like a dog jumping at its master's feet, pulling him around and laughing a bit when he noticed his shoulders go rigid when he attempted to silently move away.

"What are you doing? Stop touching me." Austria stammered at his loss of control and became uncomfortable at the unnatural amount of open affection America was granting him, leaning backwards when America reached down and kindheartedly zipped up the front of his jacket in one deliberate, smooth flounce. America glanced back up, smile fading a bit and causing Austria to frown. America was staring fixedly at him once more from behind his glasses with a seemingly blank look and appeared to be gradually sinking into thought, though what about evaded his knowledge. It was as if his expression had stuck; glued to his eyes. Austria swallowed and took a tiny step backwards when America inched forward inquiringly, watching every minute move he made in an effort to read his atypical and unforeseen aim, but was unable to perceive any emotion from his seemingly empty expression. Austria took a small breath when America locked eyes with him, breaking it for a few moments to admire the way his jacket fit him before effortlessly returning.

America's jaw had gone slack. He opened his mouth to try and form something at least articulate, but couldn't find his bearings, only adding additional weight to the incongruity of the substantial silence. He scrunched up his face but couldn't break his gaze no matter how he tried, as if afraid he would miss something if he looked away. At that moment, he could almost feel something break inside his chest as he sluggishly began to drag himself out of his profound pool of denial. No matter how much he had told himself to discount such omnipresent thoughts, America couldn't push them any further. They always came bouncing back, each time with increasing dynamism and will to pester his conscious, and he was finally beginning to understand, though he didn't like what this meant one bit. Austria was attractive. At least, a little. He was slim and insipid, and the bulky leather of America's jacket all but swallowed him, lending him an air of petite cuteness. America felt a feeble smile take him over as he willed himself to breathe regularly again. It definitely didn't look bad on him, it was far from it.

"Wow." America felt himself blurt out in a breathy mumble, internally smacking himself when he realized what he had said. Out of all of the things he could have said, why did it have to be that? For once in his life could the universe not let him be smooth?

"Are you alright? What's wrong with you?" Austria inquired suspiciously.

America shook himself free and sneezed in the sub-zero wind, reaching up and rubbing at the thin sleeves of his shirt for warmth. "Sorry! Yeah, I-I'm great!" He paused and gestured to the footpath behind him and leisurely starting his walk, motioning for Austria to follow. "Come on, humor me, will you?" He shuddered but refused to give up his ardor, ignoring the knife like cold in hopes of impressing Austria with his durability.

Austria sighed, still wondering what had happened, but glad it had been cleared up; America never gave him any choice or say in what happened when he was around. He was standing outside in the freezing cold in his night clothes and snow boots, for God's sake, swallowed by a jacket he had never asked to adorn. It was most likely dry clean only, and there was not telling how many decades it had been since America had made an attempt at visiting the cleaners. So much was being forced on him so rapidly, he had no time to mull anything over and come up with a level headed pronouncement. Of course, he didn't have much to lose at this point either, not after such a catastrophe as dragging the whole manor to the courtyard. However, that did not mean Austria condoned this in the slightest.

America reached out and grabbed Austria by the sleeve, tugging him along and forcing him to leave behind his gawky inhibitions, slowing to an adequate walking speed. "So," he mused, finally able to begin but trying to figure out where to start, "Why don't we start with names or something? I don't remember yours." He felt dense for forgetting, but it wasn't often that America heard Austria addressed by his first name.

Austria looked away, keeping his mouth shut in his reluctance to answer. America leaned down a little and flashed an undersized smile, examining Austria's face but not picking up on his goaded fog. "I'm Alfred." He placed his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest in satisfaction as if his name were a shiny trophy. "Alfred Foster Jones! Now," He held out a hand, prompting immaturely for Austria to reply.

"Don't treat me like I am a child," Austria muttered before pausing, ever so slowly reacclimating to America's boisterous qualities. "My name is Roderich."

America stifled a laugh and sniffed. "Really? You don't look like a Roderich."

"And you don't look like an Alfred." Austria countered nattily, catching America off guard by breaking his typical composure.

America allowed himself to finally unwind and couldn't help himself, lightheartedly laughing at the cynical quality to Austria's voice. "Ok, well," He stepped over a mound of snow he had neglected, rubbing at his icy fingers. "What do you do for fun?"

Austria thought a moment, crossing his arms as best he could and trailing off in thought, glancing across the courtyard and into the extensive green of the park beyond. Everything he found appealing and intriguing bored the others he knew to the point where they scarcely came around anymore, with the exception of Germany, Hungary and sometimes Switzerland, who were only interested in him for his political prospect, which wasn't much nowadays. America already knew that he indulged in the finer things; art, music, and the like. Austria blinked to himself as he thought, remembering something that not many knew, because he seldom shared it. It never came up in conversation, but now that someone was listening, it only seemed appropriate to bring it up.

"I collect things." He finally settled on, sort of hoping that America would press him to provide more details. "I don't much anymore, but I used to."

Sure enough, Austria was right. America perked up a little bit and adjusted his glasses. "What kind of stuff?"

Austria had to admit, he was beginning to draw a considerable level of fulfillment from America's many questions, no matter how many he had. "I have many things, but my weapons collection is the most extensive. Most of my pieces were gifts from excavation sites." He boasted, nearly retreating from the comment when he heard his tone waver in enthusiasm.

"Dude, that's wicked sweet!" America chimed up stridently, eyes lighting up. "I used to go on digs all the time in the sixties and seventies." He exhaled, amused when his breath condensed in the air. "I found all sorts of stuff, too. My favorite place was Egypt; super quiet guy but, damn, we found so much junk over there."

Austria nodded leisurely. He had never known that America enjoyed Archaeology, but the more he thought about it, the more it made complete sense. Digging was dirty work and it was only natural for someone so loosely strung to enjoy such labor.

America continued his energetic rant, rattling off everything that he found and where he found it, motioning with his hands in a visual display of the world and attempting to map everything out as he went along, occasionally pointing here and there to the invisible globe he was visualizing in his vibrant imagination.

"One time, I could have sworn I found a bone from a human finger!" He pointed to his own in demonstration. "I showed it our boss at the time and he totally thought it was too. Man, I thought we had found something amazing, so we started digging for the rest of the body, but it turns out it was part of a stupid ass sheep." He shook his head at the memory and gave himself a half smile. "Everyone was so upset, but it was still a lot of fun seeing everyone that excited and working together before the let down." He stopped talking and turned his attention back to Austria, who had all the while listened respectfully, getting back on topic. "I seriously never knew that you collected the things we find. I'll bet you have some of our stuff! Next time I'm able to go on a dig, you should come with us." He offered.

Austria looked down and smiled a little to himself. "No, I would not do well on a trip like that." He admitted.

Suddenly, the same ghostly feeling that had flooded over him his first day in the manor began to creep back over America's psyche. Austria rarely smiled, claiming that it wasn't needed to lead a fulfilling life, but when he did America could swear he felt warmer, as cheesy as it was. If only he would laugh. America reveled in the thought of gaining the privilege of hearing Austria laugh, but the concept of an apocalypse was more likely than that. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what he would sound like. America blinked when he noticed Austria quietly running his hands together. He must have left his gloves inside in all of the confusion.

"Here," America stopped in front of him and reached down, feeling the nervous tension leave him as he tenderly wrapped his fingers around Austria's. Austria instantly furrowed his brow and started to protest when America invaded his bubble, but America beat him to the conversation. He wasn't about to let Austria object; in his state he couldn't just let him ice over. He might get sick again.

America grinned and began to walk carefully backwards, guiding Austria along and all the while refusing to let go. "When I would go and visit Canada when we were younger, I would always forget my gloves because I never remembered how cold it was up north. We would play out in the snow and Canada would do this for me so I wouldn't get frostbite." He explained softly, nearly tripping.

"You're going to slip if you're not careful." Austria pointed out as he watched America's clumsy walk.

America gave a short laugh. "I'm not gonna fall! You gotta trust me." However, his klutzy walk didn't last long. Sure enough, as soon as Austria had warned him, America tripped over his own shoes, stumbling backwards and landing on his side in a hefty pile of snow. He coughed from the ground and quickly blew the snow from his nose, glancing up then swiftly looking away when he noticed Austria's somewhat pleased expression, discomfited. He thought rapidly; had to play this one off cool.

"Phew, that's much better." He began, stretching nonchalantly and slinging his arms behind his head though hesitant where he was going with this.

Austria raised an eyebrow. "You never listen. I knew that was going to happen, but you never listen." He watched America from the snow, overly satisfied with the fact that he had been correct.

America turned onto his back and rolled his eyes playfully. "Come on, I totally meant to do this. I was getting hot walking around so I wanted to cool off." Completely nailed it.

"You don't have to lie; being embarrassed is normal when you make a fool of yourself." Austria responded almost mischievously, crossing his arms once more and obviously not buying into America's pathetic excuse.

America chuckled and braced himself against the hard ground, readying himself for what was to come next. "Would you come off of it," he joked playfully, "you fucking aristocrat!" In a flash he flew forward and grabbed Austria by the front of the jacket, forcibly dragging him down to his level and landing him in the snow directly beside him. He wasn't about to be the only one shivering on the ground.

Austria immediately sat up, pouting when America rolled about in the snowbank giggling to himself. "Do you even realize how immature you are!? If you grew up in my time I would have your head!" He shouted apathetically. This was the second time that America had fooled him with the snow, and it was getting more than tiresome. It was time he learned a thing or two.

America grinned an inane grin, propping himself up on his knees and crawling to where Austria sat like a stone, wanting to move but too displeased with himself to do so. He glanced around a moment before spotting Austria's glasses, picking them from the snow and cleaning them on the back of his sleeve before leaning in and gingerly slipping them back behind Austria's ears. Austria shuddered under America's touch when he felt his fingertips graze his cheek as he pulled back, bopping him lightly on the nose with his forefinger.

"Loosen up and learn to have some fun every once in a while." America told him, standing and brushing himself off cheerfully. "It is Christmas after all." Suddenly, he shot a look of misunderstanding back in the direction of Austria's home before speedily turning back. "Dude, I totally forgot! I don't think you have a Christmas tree do you?" He extended a hand and took hold of Austria's, dragging him up from the ground.

"No," Austria responded, flicking the snow from his front. "The needles fall off onto the floor and it is dreadful to clean."

A look of exaggerated shock flooded over America's face when he gasped. "No Christmas tree? That's horrible! You can't have Christmas without a rockin' tree!" He thought a moment, his expression turning to that of impish astuteness. "We're gonna go get one. Right now."

"Please, I really don't need one." Austria reaffirmed his position. It was far too much trouble to have a living tree, and his maids hated the prospect of sticky sap coating everything.

"I'm not giving you a choice!" America stated in a matter of fact way.

With that, Austria knew there was no getting around it. America was going to find a tree weather he liked it or not and no amount of reason was going to change that. Slowly, the two made their way back across the extensive courtyard in silence, America every once in a while mumbling something inaudible to himself and chuckling under his breath like a school child. The silence was wonderful, but Austria almost wished that America had more things to talk about or ask him. He jumped a little when he felt America's hot grip somewhat tighten around his hand. Oh? He was still holding onto him? Not all that surprising. When he looked up, America seemed too preoccupied with another one of his flighty daydreams to notice, and had probably just forgotten to release him. Austria slowly pulled his other hand into the pocket of America's jacket, exhaling leisurely. America's strong fingers were cozy, so there was no point in letting go if he was gaining such benefit. In fact it was almost, dare he say, soothing. He looked down to his boots and watched America's quick stride compared to his. It was tiring; he had to take nearly two steps to match one of America's and his swift pace matched his reeling thoughts, almost dragging Austria along with him. As America hummed along innocently, Austria frowned when he felt him unhurriedly begin to stroke at his fingers with his thumb, repeatedly forming minute, gentle circles in his palm. This was a little out of the ordinary and oddly out of character, but still, America didn't seem to take any notice, looking about and blissfully admiring the geography instead. Why wasn't he paying attention? Surely he had to be aware of what he was doing. It was almost intentional; as though he wanted to confuse Austria, or send him some blurred indication of an unclear message. He felt his heart speed up at the thought, but willed his equanimity to return. Austria turned his nose up and couldn't believe he was thinking such things. What on earth had come over him? This was absurd! There was no telling what America would do or say when he was off in his own world, so nitpicking his actions like this was only going to produce false results. However, he couldn't help but be intrigued by how soft America's touch was. For someone with a reputation for forgetting his own strength he was surprisingly tender. Austria inhaled deeply in an attempt to clear his head, choosing to overlook what he was thinking and remove himself from what his conscious kept telling him to feel. He would just have to follow Alfred and get this over with; then maybe he would leave him be.


Wiktor: God, I finally got that done. My hand hurts now, but it was worth it. I have wanted to write this so bad. Hope you enjoyed, and have a good week. Until the next chapter!