Happy Valentine's Day! I have no valentine xD

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Still not edited, have fun! :D

Chapter 4: Bitter Taste

"RAWR!" America shouted as he grabbed England by the waist and started into the ocean with him slung over his shoulder.

England yelped and immediately started pounding on the younger male's back. "Put me down, you oaf!" he shouted, squirming so much that the pair went plummeting into the water. Water rushed over their heads, and for a moment, they couldn't breathe.

They broke the surface, sputtering and coughing. America started barking out laughter. "I'm going to kill you!" England threatened, standing over America menacingly, but before he could act on his threat, France walked by and threw him over his shoulder. "Son of a bitch, not again!" The Frenchman's lecherous laughter faded quickly.

"Do you see that chick over there?" a male's voice asked, not close, but not quiet enough to be inaudible.

"Yeah, dude, she's hot," his friend agreed.

America's head snapped up. The pair was standing between him and the bar. They were staring at a female leaning against the counter. He stood, looking around them. They were right, she was hot, and looked utterly familiar.

"She looks like a foreigner," the first male said, his head moving slowly up and down as he scanned her body.

The friend laughed. "That'll make it all the easier. Come on, let's go hit that up." They started towards the female, and America realized who the girl was.

He stormed from the water and across that sand before the men had even taken two steps. He threw his arms around their necks like he was an old friend. Jealousy and anger fueled his actions.

"What the-?" they started, but he cut them off.

"You see that lady over there boys?" he asked in a conversational tone, smiling widely, "She's way out of your league."

"What? And you aren't?" the friend sneered, trying to twist out from under his arm, but America just tightened the hand he hand on their shoulders until it started hurting, "Hey, man, that hurts! Let up!"

America's smile tightened until it was a little threatening. "She is seeing as she's mine. Now, I'm not going to stop you from hitting on her, but be warned, she will rip your balls off and feed them to you. And then you'll have me to deal with," he told them too cheerily, "Oh, and she knows perfect English." He let go of their shoulders and clapped them on the back. "Go have fun."

The pair glanced at each other. "I think we'll try someone else," the first man replied hesitantly. They started walking back towards the water, this time eyeing Hungary and the other girls.

America's smirk grew. "By the way, some advice, the woman in the green…" He pointed to Hungary. "She's just as vicious as the woman at the bar, plus she's spoken for by two men who will brutally murder you. The woman in blue…" He pointed to Ukraine. "Her brother, that Russian wearing the scarf, will skin you alive. And the girls in pink…" He pointed next to Taiwan and Liechtenstein. "Their lovers will torture you in some creative way, I'm sure. And the woman in the black…" It was Belgium's turn. "Her brother is that big scary silent man next to her. He prefers slow and painful deaths. And lastly, the girl in the white…" He pointed to Seychelles. "Let's just say all of her big brothers, me included, will throw you to the sharks without a second thought." Throughout his entire warning, that unnerving smile never left his lips.

The men's eyes went wide. They glanced at each other once more and without saying another word, hurried down the beach, glancing back at him fearfully every few steps until they were out of sight.

America let out a long sigh, eyes flicking to Belarus at the bar. She was smiling sweetly at the man behind the counter, her hips at an alluring angle. If he was afraid that he'd never look at him again, he'd go up behind her and run his hands along her hips, like he had that night only two nights ago. Annoyance spiked through him sharper than before as he saw the man, or more teen, smiling at her flirtatiously. What was it? Piss off Alfred day?

He started towards them, ready to break up that little conversation, but Hungary slid in beside her and Italy flung himself onto his back. "Ciao, amico! What are you doing? Are you watching Belarus? Do you like her? I'll bet you do," Italy rattled off happily in his ear.

America grinned. Italy, no matter what the situation was, could always make him smile. "Hey, dude. Yeah, actually, I was going to go crash her convo with that bartender, but Hungary got to it first," he explained, "Where's Germany?"

"Being drowned by fratello. He made him mad," the smaller nation explained cheerily, wiggling on his back.

"Oh," he said, looking back at the bar. Hungary and Belarus were gone. "Son of a bitch! Where did they go?" Italy shrugged. He sighed, and went off with Italy.

They were making their third round up the beach when he heard Belarus scream his name. He looked up just as she slammed into the water. "Shit, Belarus!" Without a second thought, he rushed into the ocean, diving once he far enough out that he wouldn't slam into the sand. He swam out as far as the end of the pier before he had to surface for air. He came up just as Belarus' last shout hit him and she sunk beneath the ocean.

She was farther out that he'd anticipated. She had bobbed up out by one of the buoys. Breathing in deeply, he dove once again into the water.

…..

"Belarus!"

Belarus heard the cry from the depth of her dark cave. The vibrations disturbed her deep slumber, sending waves through her chamber, shaking her awake. Letting herself be pulled forward, she began regaining her senses.

First was her sense of taste. Salt coated her tongue, sharp and metallic. Second was her sense of touch. Warm lips pressed against hers, flushing warm moist air into her starving lungs. Third was her sense of smell. That warm, musky sent pulled her forward, pushing out the smell of salt and sweat. Fourth was her hearing. Voices called for her, telling her to stay with them, to come back, not to leave. Last was her sight.

Belarus' eyes fluttered open just as America was pulling away after another attempt at mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She coughed hard, expelling the water trapped in her lung and turned onto her side so she wouldn't choke on it. Water and spittle dripped to the sand as the taste of salt activated her gag reflex, causing her to dry heave.

"She's okay!" Italy shouted happily, clamping his arms around Germany's waist. The group around her went up in cheers, whooping and giving each other high-fives, hugging each other tightly.

America resisted the urge to wrap his arms around the woman in front of him. His insides shook with the adrenaline of the rescue as he held her hair back. He let his fingers slide through her hair as she pushed herself into a sitting position.

"Are you alright, missy?" England asked, leaning forward to watch her closely with some of the older nations.

Belarus nodded, not looking at any of them. She watched America out of the corner of her eye, hyper aware to the hand his kept pressed against the small of her back. His long finger rubbed gentle circles into her flesh. She didn't mind in the least.

"We should probably get back to the hotel…" Spain trailed off, realizing that they'd all booked their rooms in New York.

"Don't worry, guys, I've got a vacation home out here. We can crash there. I've got enough room," America said, pulling Belarus gently to her feet, his hand never leaving hers.

"We're going to America's house!" Italy called excitedly.

"Let's go then," France said impatiently, turning and sauntering away.

England sneered. "Hey, frog, your feathers are showing again!"

…..

"You call this a vacation home?" Germany asked incredulously as the nations flooded through the door. They stared around at the open floor plan, rushing over to the double glass doors leading out onto a patio overlooking the ocean. A swampy river ran along one side of the property, feeding into the ocean.

America shrugged nonchalantly, throwing his towel across the back of a chair situated at the breakfast bar. "My boss a while back thought it'd be good for me to own a small home in every state for some reason even though I usually just stay in New York, for business and what not. This was one of the overkill ones. The one in Cali is just as bad."

"Brother!" The group heard from the second floor. Footsteps thundered against the roof, and a line of girls streamed down the stairs.

America's eyes went wide. "Hey, guys, what are you doing here?" he called to them even though they were only across the big room from him, "Aren't you supposed to be home working?"

"We thought we deserved a vacation and heard you guys were having the meeting here," Texas, a short, full-breasted, dark skinned teen with curly brown hair and a cowboy hat, told him, grinning widely, "Plus, Florida didn't want to stay at her place so we came here."

"Cool!" He enveloped the females in a bone crushing group hug, picking them up from the ground. He turned to the other nations, grinning widely just like Texas. "Well, I'm off to have fun with my sisters for a little bit. You can come along, but if not, the house is all yours." With that, the group rushed off, shouting and laughing.

Belarus turned her back from them, irritation poisoning her already foul mood. She mounted the stairs, finding a hallway full of doors. Walking to the end where a large window made up the back wall, she looked down on America. Even though she knew they were his sisters, she felt jealousy creep up slowly on her, wrapping her into his green arms. She wanted to shove her fist through the glass.

Before she had time to notice, cracks spider-webbed out from a chink in the glass. Frowning, she ran her finger along one crack. The glass shattered under her touch. Letting a squeak of surprise, she dropped into a crouch, covering her head with her arms. Shards sliced at her skin. Pain bloomed along her arms and hands.

She stood, looking down at the slices. Thin rivulets of crimson liquid slipped down her pale skin. Sighing loudly, she took the new injury in stride. She pushed the door to her left open gently, leaving a smear of blood on the doorknob.

The room was painted a greyish-blue. An unmade, queen-sized bed was pushed against the far wall. Despite not having been lived in for what she figured were weeks, a pile of dirty laundry sat in a corner. A stack of comics and movies sat on the dresser beside the remote to the TV hanging opposite the bed. Another door stood on the wall left of the bed.

Testing it, she found it unlocked. It opened into a medium-sized bathroom. Shutting the door behind her, Belarus stripped down and climbed into the shower. A contented sigh slipped from between her lips as the hot water slid over her body. Slowly, her muscles began to relax, leaving her felling sore.

Reaching for the shampoo, she stepped back out of the spray, and felt her foot slip out from under her. She slid to the tub floor, her head smacking hard against the tiles behind her. Black consumed her vision for what seemed like an hour, but was only a few seconds.

"Are you alright?" a frantic, Spanish-accented voice asked. The shower curtain was pulled back, and there stood Spain, still in his swim trunks. He reached in, shutting off the water and pulled her up, holding her steady as she swayed. "Are you alright?" he repeated the question.

Belarus pressed a hand to her forehead. "Yeah," she mumbled, her face reddening. She felt self-conscious standing naked in front of the older man.

"No, you're not," the Spaniard said calmly, "Your arms are all cut up. Let me clean them up for you." He pulled her from the shower, wrapped her in a fluffy white towel, then bustled off to find a first aid kit.

There you go. Hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter should, possibly, be the last chapter. We'll see. Feed the review monster! She's hungry (wow, I literally spelt hungry, Hungary, the first time through) and will soon start eating up the little details of the story that make it run well.

P.S. – Happy Single's Awareness Day! (a.k.a. Valentine's Day)