When Russia arrived at England's house, his clothes still smelled of soot, and his left eye was still swollen and purple. He could see England was a little taken aback by how bad he still looked, but he welcomed him in and went about the usual diplomacy without saying anything. They were relaxing over cups of tea when the door burst open, and two little boys ran in.

"Matthew! Alfred!" England hissed, setting down his teacup. "That's enough, now - stop pulling your brother's hair -"

Russia looked on curiously as England chased tiny Canada around the room, trying to put his shoes back on. A tug at his shirt sleeve drew his attention to Canada's twin, a very young little boy with a beaming smile. "Hi!" he said brightly, "I'm America! Who are you?"

Russia rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. "My name is Ivan."

America climbed into his lap, standing on his knees and touching Russia's face with his hands. Russia was too startled by the child's fearless behavior to be angry; children were usually intimidated by his bulk and demeanor. America gingerly touched around the sensitive, bruised skin around his eye.

"What happened? Did you fall down?"

Russia struggled for an answer that was neither a lie nor would terrify the child. "No, I - I was hurt."

America's mouth fell open in shock. "Did someone hurt you?" he cried.

Russia settled for telling him, "I will be all right." America seemed to accept this, because he began playing with Russia's scarf.

"Why do you wear this?" asked America, who was clearly full of questions. "Are you cold?" His blue eyes were wide with concern. He had learned not long ago that there were people who suffered and were cold and hungry all the time, which made him so upset he wanted to shout, or to cry, or both.

"It is very cold in my country, yes," Russia told him, fascinated by how America's eyebrows quirked at this, how he clutched at Russia's scarf. "It is very cold, and very lonely."

"No no no!" America said, putting his hands over Russia's mouth. "I don't want you to be cold and lonesome!"

England, who had succeeded in wrangling a wailing Canada into his shoes once more, looked up and snapped, "That's enough, Alfred, stop bothering him -"

Russia gently picked up America and sat him on the floor. America stared up at him and reached for his hand. "When I get big," he told Russia, "you can come live with me. I'll make sure you're never hungry or cold ever again!"

"Oh, will you?" asked Russia, his own massive paw swallowing the boy's tiny hand.

"Yes! I'll marry you and we'll be happy forever and ever!" America had recently learned that you married someone that you loved so that you'd never have to be apart, and he'd spent some time pondering over who he was going to marry. England and France had each other, and Matthew was a crybaby, so he didn't want to marry him. Ivan needed him, though. "I'll be everyone's best friend, so no one else will ever be hungry or cold, either! But you can be my best best friend!"

Russia smiled down at him. "I'm honored."

Many years later, when America had grown tall, but not so tall as Russia, and they faced each other down, hands on the trigger, each contemplating ending the world to spite the other, Russia said, "You promised me once you would never let me go hungry or cold. You asked me to marry you."

America called him an "asshole", but Ivan could see in Alfred's eyes that he remembered, too.

+++

Historical note: This is set somewhere during the first decade of the 1600s, when Russia was recovering from the Time of Troubles and when America was a very young colony.