A word from the author: This is my first Hetalia fanfiction ever! Hooray! Now I know that those words can chase people away very quickly, but I'm just going to shamelessly ask that you read it anyway. :3 Also, I can't write out accents to save my life, so I'm not going to try and then completely butcher it. Also, forgive me for any grammatical errors that I didn't catch. :/

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, but I wish I did because just about everything in this show is genius!

The meeting had gone uncharacteristically smoothly, much to everyone's surprise and Germany's absolute joy. Instead of the usual desire to bash his head against a wall for sweet release, he was finding himself peacefully sitting back as everyone gave their presentations and debates and break time came so quickly that it almost felt like a dream. Almost. They all had already accepted the fact that there would never be a day where Italy wasn't clinging to Germany's person and saying something about pasta, or a day where America wouldn't proclaim himself the hero and radiate energy that filled the room wherever he was. However, that was normality. It anything was different like that, if England and France weren't fighting or if Cand-i, Ca-, Caaaan..., uh, Canadia!, was the center of attention, then something was wrong. That was their normal, and went something felt off, something must be off.

And despite the smooth meeting so far and the fact that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, the nations couldn't help but feel like something was, in fact, not normal. The atmosphere of the room seemed oddly cold. Freezing, even, and no one could figure out why it felt so wrong.

And then someone noticed Russia brooding in the corner.

Not even his sisters or the Baltics could really say that they'd ever seen what happened when the Russian personification got bored. Normally, he'd be smiling, albeit creepily, asking people to become one with him and radiating pure evil. However, he was instead sitting all the way at the end of the table, his evil aura at a completely new level of horrifying and even Italy was reeling back at the sudden change in atmosphere. No one knew what to do, and no one wanted to. If Russia was so bored, then what would he do to stop that boredom? Would he kidnap someone, or injure them? Would he torture them to death in a slow and painful manner as he laughed at their screams of agony and bathed in their blood? Honestly, they weren't too crazy on finding out.

"How long has he been sitting there, anyway?" England asked with sincere curiosity. He had been lucky enough to find a seat on the other side of the room, so he didn't really have to worry about it, but there was still a certain level of paranoia flooding his mind as he watched Russia just sit there with absolutely nothing to do and no one to talk to.

"I don't know, the entire meeting, aru?" China guessed. He hadn't been paying attention, but now he was and he was finding himself oddly intimidated.

"Perhaps someone should talk to him?" France suggested somewhat quietly.

"Are you crazy!?" was everyone's immediate reply.

America pondered this. In all honesty, he was just as curious. He'd never seen Russia that bored either, and he seemed a bit lonely as well. Sure, Russia scared people away before the Soviet Union was even a thing, and after that, he was ten times scarier, maybe more, than he ever was, and he had also become incredibly violent during the Cold War, which he knew personally...

But those days were over and done. Sure, he was still a scary person, but not like he used to be. As much as he hated him sometimes, and as much as they fought, he honestly didn't like seeing him like this. Maybe he was just in a generous mood, but he felt himself wanting to fix this problem.

Besides, he was the hero, and he wasn't afraid of Russia anyway.

"Yo Russia!" America called out, immediately catching the attention of every nation in the room.

Russia almost jumped, his head shooting upward in surprise at hearing his name called. He blinked, especially not expecting his American rival to be approaching him with such a wide grin. America pulled up a chair and sat down across from him, leaning forward and watching Russia as he slowly processed who he was talking to. His face went from surprise back to boredom.

His aura of malice did seem much stronger, though. "What do you want, Amerika?"

America continued to smile. "Nothing. Just wanted to know if you wanted to play a game is all."

"A game?" Russia furrowed his eyebrows. "Why would I want to play some stupid American game with you?"

America pouted. "I don't know. You just seemed so bored and I kinda felt bad-"

"Go away."

"Aaaaaand," America continued, completely ignoring Russia's demand, "I thought you'd like this game. It's called lumberjack."

"Lumberjack?" Russia seemed at least somewhat curious now, which was an improvement. Now he was getting somewhere. "That's a stupid name. Now go away before a smash your skull in."

America continued to pout, showing absolutely no signs of fear. Perhaps a new strategy was in order. "You get to inflicted pain on each other in this game."

That got his attention. He now had Russia fully intrigued. By this time, the other nations were slowly inching closer and closer to the small exchange between the two nations. Some assumed that someone was gonna get hurt, or worse, but they knew that they couldn't interfere. They might as well have a death wish if they got in between them. They could only watch was the scene played out before them. For some, it was terrifying.

For others, it was oddly amusing.

"Inflict pain, you say?" Russia asked, now very interested in this game.

"Yep. I'll show you." America took off his gloves and rolled down the sleeve of his left arm, then instructed that Russia do the same. After giving him an odd look, Russia gingerly did the same.

"Now take my hand." America said, holding his hand out for Russia to take. Russia looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. Actually, that probably wouldn't weird him out that much. "Come on, just grab it."

Russia stared at him for a moment longer before he finally, though slow and unsure, reached out and took America's hand. "You gotta hold on tight."

"Okay..." Russia said slowly. He really wasn't sure what to expect from his rival at this moment. "I still don't get-"

SMACK!

Russia was visibly jolted, almost pulling away from his grip as he stared wide eyed at the deep red hand print now marring his forearm. He hadn't expected that at all. He looked back at America, who was grinning ear to ear. He knew this would work.

"Your turn. First person to let go loses."

Russia stared at him blankly, obviously letting the gears turn in his head as he pieced together exactly what they were doing. Then, slowly, a smile started to creep on his face. The aura around him began to increase and expand, the smile creeping upon his face widening until he was giving America the biggest, creepiest grin he could possibly muster. He nodded, looking down at America's arm with excitement as he raised his hand.

THWACK!

America winched. There was now a hand print on his arm identical to that on Russia's. He looked up at Russia, a smirk gracing his lips. "You caught on quick." he mused.

"Da," Russia replied, "and you were right, by the way. This is fun."

"Thought you'd enjoy this." America once again raised his hand and prepared for another strike.

They went at it for a solid ten minutes, the resounding cracks becoming louder and quicker. Eventually, each impact became so loud that the nations around them were cringing. By the time Germany forced them to call their game a draw, both of their arms were a deep ugly purple with spots of black and were lightly bleeding. Russia remained at his seat in the corner, while America returned to where he was, next to England.

"How's your arm? Is it okay? It doesn't look good." England asked cautiously, only slightly concerned.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. It's broken." he answered nonchalantly.

England was about to demand that he see a doctor when America pointed to where Russia was sitting. "His is, too."

Russia was hiding his arm behind the table and under his sleeve. It was completely limp and would probably be unusable for a little while. However, he showed no signs of pain. In fact, he looked rather happy. He was smiling with his usual deceptively gentle smile that had been missing just minutes before, now once again plastered on his face. Back to normality.

Mission accomplished.

When the world conference ended and everyone went home, Russia met Latvia just as they were entering Russia's home. "What do you want, Russia?" Latvia asked nervously.

Russia smiled with genuine happiness. "Hello, Latvia. You would like to play a game with me, da? It is called lumberjack."

Another word from the author: I'm surprised that so few people have ever heard of this game. In my middle school, and my high school, we played Lumberjack all the time, in the classrooms and hallways. The point was to inflict as much pain on the other person until someone let go. It was incredibly stupid, but also morbidly entertaining. I thought that Russia and America playing this game was a fun idea. This is also a great story to use as my first published story while I get used to this website's system. I hope you enjoyed this and I hope to upload new stories in the future. Have a nice day. :)

~AnonymousTwit