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The blonde man glared at the line in front of him as he held the polar bear tightly in his arms. It struggled briefly before resigning itself to its fate when the man did not relinquish his hold. With a huff he turned and looked towards the forest hiding his home. Sighing he began reviewing his plans for the upcoming national championship match between himself and…

"Камрад приветствиям!" a cheerful voice called out, causing him to nearly drop his bear. "Oh. Sorry Comrade America. You are planning to vatch your brother's game against myself, da? I am sure it is to be a great game. Why do you have Kumajiro?"

"I am Canada eh." He growled angrily as he turned around. He adjusted his glasses, twitching as Kumajiro voiced his surprise yet again. He glared up at the much taller man. "Is that so hard to understand? We barely look alike eh! Even you Russia don't recognize me eh. You are always spouting off about everyone becoming one with mother Russia eh! Well I don't care about your plots to make everyone one with you! You-you…" he trailed off as the man stared at him darkly.

"you vill become calm now da?" the voice was soft, but there was a touch of iron and copper ghosting alongside it. He always had that soft, cold voice. The shorter man wondered if that was because of his empty, cold climate. "I am sure it can wait until the game tonight da?"

Canada glared but nodded. Seeing the wisdom in his words. He took a deep breath and glanced longingly at the line before inviting the much taller man in for a drink. "Would you like a Bloody Caesar, Russia?" Russia blinked in confusion.

"A vhat?" he asked, a look of slightly disturbed interest appearing on his face. Canada nearly burst out laughing at the expression. "What is this… Bloody Caesar you talk about?"

"It's a a cocktail made from vodka, clamato juice, Worcestershire, and Tabasco, in a salt-rimmed glass, and garnished with a celery stalk, a spoon of horseradish, or a shot of beef bouillon eh." He said cheerfully as Russia paled slightly. "A bartender invented it here a few decades ago eh. Would you like to try it?"

"Нет! вы, но No." Russia said firmly, without the barest hint of a shudder. "Just… Just vodka for me comrade, if you please."

"Suit yourself Russia." He said with his cheerful smile still in place, while he went to get a bottle of vodka he kept for when Russia came to visit and a spruce beer for himself. He handed it to the larger man. "So, why are you here eh?"

"I vanted to see how my comrades to the east are fairing." Russia said with his eerie blank smile back in place. "America's boss came for a visit so I decided to visit everyone to show how I feel about them. Is good idea da?"

"I guess…" Canada said quietly. "But why are you visiting me now eh?"

"Because Comrade!" Russia said cheerfully, looming over him. Though how such a big man could move so quietly and so quickly had often baffled the others, "Your people are close to joining Mother Russia under красивейшее знамя коммунизма! "

"Uh… eh heh… right eh." Canada chuckled nervously, glancing about as he did so. He gasped when he realized the time "Merde! We're gonna be late!"

"Что?" he turned to the clock, "дерьмо! вы правы!"

With that, the two of them ran to the hockey stadium and parted ways. Russia smiled coldly. After all, despite what Canada thinks or says, he and his brother are far closer to becoming one with Russia than they think.

In his home America sneezed. Looking over to the line separating him from his brother he cursed, as he realized he had forgotten his brother's hockey match.

.

.

.

Again.

Translation:

Greetings comrade

No! thank you but no.

Beautiful banner of communism

Shit!

What? Shit! You're right!