So, in a lot of my stories, I've had Russia be the psycho who messes with everyone and scares the crap out of everyone. But I've wanted to write about Russia being the one creeped on. XD Plus Belarus is fun to write with. With her insanity, you can almost do whatever you want with her and it works. XD

So, I hope you like it! Please review! :D

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In all of the years America had (unfortunately) known Russia, he had never known him to be scared of anything. If there was a spider, he would look down at it and smile as if the two of them were good friends—which wouldn't surprise America in the slightest. It would fit him and his commie ways. If there was a power outage and the room was sent into darkness, the psychopath would begin laughing like a little schoolgirl, making everyone even more terrified than they were in the first place. America hated the lack of fear the Russian had, seeing as he himself could barely sit still without screaming or almost wetting himself while watching a scary movie. He hated being one-upped by Russia in anything.

But today was different. Everything had started out the same like any other average day. America and Russia had glared at each other, being polite outwardly in speech and mannerisms, but the true hatred felt between them nearly palpable in the air. Whenever the two were in the same vicinity, the pressure would make other conversations stop, the other countries preparing to run away in case the two superpowers finally decided to start a nuclear war out of nowhere. Throughout the meeting, they kept on opposing the other's opinion, America saying the Russian only wanted to do things to brainwash people, and Russia saying that there was no need for that since America barely had a brain to be wiped in the first place.

Germany had been about to yell something—probably to tell them to get out and go kill each other elsewhere—when the door to the conference room suddenly opened with a loud crash. The two ended their argument long enough to look at the door to see who was interrupting them. America saw a girl in the doorway with pale brown hair; almost blonde but not quite. On top of her head was a white ribbon tied in a bow, holding some of her hair back from her face. She wore a dark blue dress, the fabric still swinging as if she had just been running. Her eyes were a dark blue that were just on the edge of being purple. That by itself was suspicious, but America nearly didn't notice the color because of the insanity in them. She did not look mentally healthy. At all.

Not able to help himself, America turned to see what Russia's reaction was. However, to his surprise, there was no longer any Russia to be seen. "Huh?" he mused, ducking under the table to look for him. As soon as he ducked down he caught sight of the Russian, clutching his legs close to him as he—was he seeing this right?—was trembling. "Yo, Russia, what's—"

Russia looked up at him, absolute fear and desperation in his violet eyes. "Don't!" he pleaded, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't let her find—"

"Big brother…"

Russia looked to his side and America looked up to see the girl now also under the table, her eyes wide with a crazed look of twisted happiness. Russia literally screamed, jumping out from under the table and plastered himself to the wall. "Belarus!" he cried, his chest moving rapidly with short, staccato breaths. "I told you to go home!"

"But you're not home, big brother," the girl—America supposed her name was Belarus—said as she also appeared from beneath the table. "You're never home! WHY AREN'T YOU EVER HOME? MARRY ME!"

"NO!" Russia cried back, pressing himself harder against the wall as if he could become part of it and disappear. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES, big brother!" Belarus said, slamming her hands against the wall, making Russia squeak. "You will marry me, big brother! You will marry me, and we will make love, and we will make babies, and we will live together forever and ever and ever and you will LOVE IT!"

"I don't want to!" Russia shot back, his voice much higher than usual. It would have been comical if he hadn't looked like he was about to die from cardiac arrest. "Bela, it's you who wants that, not me!"

"Then I'll make you want it!" Belarus cried, making Russia shriek as she then began trying to rid Russia of his clothing.

"Nyetnyetnyetnyetnyet!" Russia was wailing, wildly flailing and trying to get Belarus off of him. But it didn't work, in turn only making the girl more fierce.

Suddenly—and with a small smirk—America realized that Russia was basically the damsel in distress in this situation. He hated the guy's guts and would love to see him get the crap beaten out of him. But his stupid hero instincts were kicking in. Plus, feeling guilty, he realized that no one else was going to his rescue either. China looked like he was almost even going to start cheering on Belarus from the looks of the smile on his face. But as America continued to watch Russia scream and flail, he realized that it was so totally not cool to just watch while another guy got raped by his sister. So, much against logic—hey, America didn't really have any of that in the first place—he stepped in.

"Hey, psycho chick!" he yelled, reaching out to grab her shoulder. "No raping in the conference room."

Not even touching her shoulder, Belarus swung around, a knife suddenly in hand. "Back off, vyradak!" she hissed. "He's mine!"

For a second, America stared at the knife, a little surprised. But then he remembered—this was Russia's sister. Of course she was going to be packing random weapons. Soon after the shock faded away, he reached under his bomber jacket and pulled out his own pistol. "No, you back off, bitch."

Belarus looked down at the gun, then back up to America. She had a scowl on her face as if all of her fun had been ruined. "All I want to do is become one with my big brother! Why is that so bad?"

"Because you scare me!" Russia whined, still in the process of trying to melt into the wall. "I don't want to be one with you! You freak me out! Plus it's kind of incest, but—"

"LOVE ME!" Belarus screeched, turning back to her Russian brother. All Russia was able to do was jump and make a sad squeaking noise.

"Hey, I said back off!" America yelled, this time pulling her back off of Russia. She looked like she was about to murder him for doing such a thing, but America pointed his gun at her again, pulling back the hammer with a threatening click. With a look full of malice, she finally backed off.

"You'll become one with me one day, big brother!" Belarus yelled, pointing at him menacingly. "You'll become one with me, and you'll like it! Next time, your American boyfriend won't be here to protect you!"

For a moment, the entire room went silent as the words seemed to reverberate through the air. Suddenly both America and Russia sputtered, looking at her like she was crazy—er, okay, crazier. "He's not my boyfriend!" they both yelled simultaneously.

Belarus glared at the both of them for a few more moments, then burst into tears. "Why am I not good enough for you, big brother? Why do you choose another man over me?"

"WE'RE NOT TOGETHER!" the two of them shouted in unison.

"I'll make you love me!" Belarus yelled. "I'll make you love me, and then you'll be happy! OR ELSE!" She then wiped away her tears and began laughing maniacally, finally leaving the room. With a last cry of "I LOVE YOU, BROTHER!" the doors finally closed.

The room was deathly quiet, everyone seemingly unable to come up with words to describe what the hell had just happened. America finally looked over at Russia. "I think I understand why you're so messed up now," he commented.

Russia was still trembling slightly, looking at the door as if it were about to explode again. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" he murmured.

"Huh, I dunno. Maybe somewhere between the mass genocide and communism?"

Russia seemed to regain enough of his composure to glare at the American. "Shut up, fat ass."

"Is that any way to talk to your boyfriend? Ohonhon!"

The two of them turned to the Frenchman, all of their malice and animosity directed towards him, making him actually back up from the aura of condescension. "Shut up, France," they both hissed.

Before they knew what was happening, everyone in the room—even little Italy—was teasing them about being boyfriends, the sexual tension between them and something that Japan called being a 'tsundere.' All while this was happening, Canada sat in his little corner like usual, talking to Kumajiro.

"I told them that Belarus was coming," he murmured to his bear. "But no, they decided to not hear me… like usual."

Kumajiro looked up at him curiously. "Eh? Who are you?"

Canada let out a sigh. "Kimahiru, I'm Ca—" He never finished his statement though as America had a fit and threw a brick (where the hell had he found a brick laying around?) across the room, hitting the Canadian square in the face. For the rest of the so-called 'meeting,' Canada lay unhappily unconscious as Russia and America continued to yell at everyone and deny that they had any feelings for each other.

Though, as Russia thought about it…

America pointing a gun at his sister had seemed somehow extremely appealing to him. Almost arousing even.

He certainly wouldn't mind being saved by the American again if he got to see the sight of him holding a gun to his sister more often.

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Yay, finally done! Just a little oneshot of cuteness and randomness… and the closest thing I've ever writing to a crack fic. XD

I sure hope you liked it… because this was way too much fun to write. XD

Please review! :D