A/N: Long chapter is long. It's been a little while and I finally managed to update. If you like this story so far then I guess you'll like the length of this chapter. If you don't like it then I'm not sure what to tell you. I realized when starting this that there wasn't a lot of Russia in it and that wouldn't do. So I put some more scenes with him in before updating and now the chapter's real long.

As for last chapter, I don't think I wrote it correctly. I didn't intend for people to think Russia broke America's statue, rather that it was a "sign" or whatnot for something that could happen in the future. Fail. Oh well, it doesn't matter either way. There could be speculation that Russia broke it; either way works. One way is a more innocent rather than possessive tone.

On a totally separate note, I do appreciate the reviews and support for this practically plotless story that has yet to deliver very hard on both genres. It really makes the difference on my enthusiasm for this story. I tried to make this chapter more eventful.

Also, a fellow reviewer made it known to me that, yes, Russia and America are doing fairly well together as countries, but I also like to think that relationships with Hetalia characters (being a personified form of a country much like a human being) also differ depending on their personalities. So even though Russia and America may be getting along right now give or take a few things, some of the acidic feelings being thrown around by the two (particularly Alfred) are from the way they personally take to each other. I don't know if that's clear, but I hope it made sense.

Enjoy.

The few weeks before the next summit meeting had Alfred constantly answering his phone. He actually found it easier to comply with the little things that made Russia insert himself into his life rather than struggling tooth and nail. In the end it would only make him frustrated and angry, Russia keeping that same smile on his face that assured Alfred that he had no control over the situation. After the first few calls, Alfred had begrudgingly told Russia to only call his house phone (never his cell phone) if he had something important to discuss.

Apparently being bored or 'thinking of him' were legitimate and important reasons for Russia. Eventually Alfred gave up and kept his phones by his bed and his desk just in case Russia had another urge to share something totally inane with the American.

But as the weeks passed with the dozens of questions that Russia threw at him still ringing in his ears, Alfred was finally glad to just be getting off a plane and heading towards his hotel. He was glad that the conference would be taking place in Japan this time, for the Asian had set the location in a simply rainy spot rather than somewhere snowy. Alfred knew that was a favor for his sake. He knew so much that he pulled the smaller nation into a bear hug when stepping foot into the hotel lobby, swinging him around with a grin as small hands gripped at his sleeves in dizziness.

He was tired of the snow. He was tired of the cold. But most of all he was tired of the overall dreary feelings that accompanied the weather.

He wasn't sure if it was the weather that was making a slowly forming ball of dread in his chest, but it was better to blame it on that than something he had caused. Ever since Russia had visited all those weeks ago, Alfred couldn't shake the feeling he was experiencing. Russia had talked about England, which was no big deal. Even Alfred liked to get in a few jabs at his old caretaker every now and then. But the way Russia talked had been different. He had pointed something out that Alfred as a whole had failed to notice.

He was nothing like England.

And that thought started to eat away at him, itching the back of his mind when he sat around with nothing in particular to do. The idea really shouldn't have bothered him; England was a frumpy guy with big eyebrows, a drinking issue, and no sense of humor. Why on God's green earth would Alfred want to be anything remotely similar to that?

…And yet when Russia pointed it out, he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Then there was that whole statue thing. It had been so clearly cracked in such a place between the boy and his father (which he was going a great deal to convince himself that the boy didn't look like him as a child and the man didn't look like England) that only solidified this emotion taking hold of him slowly but surely. It was overwhelming and shouldn't mean anything, yet it did.

With an exhausted sigh, Alfred ran a hand roughly through his hair and looked out the window onto the vast concrete jungle that was Tokyo. The rain dabbed lightly at the windowpane, little crystals of water that swirled together creating an odd shape sort of resembling a face. Alfred squinted his eyes to get a better look at the face before lightly blowing a wisp of air turning the glass frosty. With careful movements he began to trace the outline of a man. Scraggly hair, tightly bound lips, large eyebrows–

A noise behind him made him jump and quickly use the cloth of his sleeve from his elbow to his wrist to wipe away the picture. Alfred turned around jittery to see Japan standing with a raised eyebrow. He smiled with a small twitch of his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey Kiku. What's up?" Yes, he would try the casual approach.

"I am doing fine, America-san."

"Alfred," Alfred corrected, not even looking annoyed in the slightest at Japan's mix-up. The Asian furrowed his brow apologetically and twiddled his fingers, tying them in a tight not.

"…I'm sorry. I did it again," he muttered. Alfred waved his hand in dismissal.

"Don't sweat it. It's only been, like, sixty years or somethin'. No big deal." Japan frowned unappreciatively which made Alfred laugh, the sound rippling in a smooth wave from his throat. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

Japan huffed before glancing away a moment. "So what'd you need, pal?"

"I merely wanted to see how your flight went," Japan responded politely, inky eyes zoning in on the messy smudges against the lobby window. Alfred followed his vision before quickly leaning against the wall, blocking Japan's view. The smaller nation blinked before looking up at the smiling blonde's face.

"Great. A little bit of turbulence, but nothing I'm not used to. Thanks for picking a spot without snow by the way. I really appreciate it."

Japan smiled showing a small amount of his teeth. "That wasn't intentional, Alfred-san. You're just very lucky that it hasn't been excessively frigid here. The beginnings of winter have been surprisingly mild in my country."

"That's the beauty of it I suppose. I think God did that intentionally because he knew I'd be making a trip out here. He cut me some slack," Alfred laughed again. Japan raised an eyebrow and crinkled his nose.

"…I don't think that's how it works–"

"–Sure it is, sure it is!" Alfred slapped his friend on the back roughly nearly making Japan's eyes bug out. He wrapped his arm around the shorter man's shoulders and steered him towards the café nestled on the other side of the lobby. "In the meantime I'll just relax and enjoy this calm weather before I'm forced back home."

"No one's forcing you to do anything," Japan mumbled lightly as they walked into the dim little shop. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish."

Alfred grinned half-heartedly before withdrew his arm and took a seat in a cloth bound red chair. Japan did the same across from him, eyes darting quickly to every face in the room. "I wish. But then no work would get done."

"And work to you means…?" Japan asked seriously. Alfred gave him a level stare before the Asian chuckled. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. You must admit, you set yourself up for it." Japan folded his hands politely in front of him before motioning towards the counter. "Aren't you going to get something to drink? I'm surprised that you haven't done so yet like you usually do. Are you feeling alright?"

Alfred leaned back in his seat with great reluctance. The way Japan was looking so curiously at him twisted his stomach. He never liked it when people put more effort to check if he was okay or not. It was just…uncomfortable. A hero was supposed to worry about the masses, not the other way around. "I said I'm fine already. Just a little jumbled from the flight. I'll get something to drink later, maybe over dinner."

Japan remained silent a moment, lips squirming against each other as if gauging Alfred's words. "Is that an implication for me?" he finally asked uncertainly making Alfred laugh at his friend's awkwardness. Even after all this time of being out of isolation, Japan still had his moments where he just couldn't understand people. At least, not on the level Alfred could. He was a natural people person, or at least he thought he was.

"You bet your butt it is. I rarely come here for a visit. The least you could do is have dinner with me," Alfred said and flashed an award winning smile. Japan flinched, cheeks alight in embarrassment as he nodded.

"That – that may be. We are…friends," he admitted and Alfred couldn't help but feel something warm in his chest at how secretly content Japan looked to confess that. "I will accompany you to dinner as a gracious host. However, I would like to point out that I am under no obligation to do so. You're here for business, not to meander around and sightsee."

Alfred puffed his cheeks out childishly and crossed his arms behind his head. "Party-pooper. Why do you have to point that out? I just wanna relax from all the crap I've been dealing with."

Japan twisted his face in slight interest. "Conferences are far from relaxing, Alfred-san."

"Oh, boy do I know."

Japan didn't want to meddle but he was a bit inquisitive towards Alfred's statement. "You have been dealing with some stressful things from your country this month?"

Alfred blinked and rolled his shoulders quickly in a noncommittal shrug. "You could say that I guess."

Japan's head lolled forward in a small bow, almost resembling a nod. "That's surprising."

"Why is that surprising? I've got important things to do, you know," Alfred said seriously and leaned forward on his elbows. Japan smirked at him.

"Reading comic books and playing my demo games would not be considered work to most people."

"Wha – You think that's what I do?" Alfred asked in disbelief. Japan hesitantly nodded and looked away.

"Partly. I recall you doing that the last time I had visited you."

Alfred huffed and ran his hand down his face in exasperation. "That was a onetime thing. It was a long month last time…This month has been more about…" he drifted off, unsure if he should say. Japan looked at him with inquiring eyes making Alfred's hesitation falter. Well, he'd already told Canada. Telling one of his other close friends wouldn't kill him; just as long as word didn't get out to Russia or worse, his totally gaga over the moon sister. He shivered at even the mere thought of her glare.

"Alright, you have to promise not to say anything because it's really not a big deal, but Russia has sorta been chatting with me," Alfred muttered quietly into his hand, eyes glancing around the hotel café as if expecting any of the soviet siblings to pop out of the cracks in the floors.

"Russia-san?" Japan repeated, as if just the mere notion tickled his ears. Perhaps he'd misheard. Alfred nodded. "I wasn't aware that you two were such…good friends."

"We're not friends," Alfred corrected much too quickly. He frowned and shook his head. "We're a lot of things, but I don't think a friend is one of them."

"Then why have you been chatting?" Japan asked, craning his neck in confusion.

"I don't know. But it keeps me up at night and wakes me up early in the mornings and I've just been…Never mind. Forget it," Alfred smiled and tried to brush the subject away. There was no real point in discussing this right now, especially not when he himself couldn't fully wrap his mind around the situation.

It wasn't so much of a bother that Russia was talking to him, more along the lines of what he was talking to him about.

Japan moved to get more comfortable in his seat when he folded his hands together against the table. "You're mentioning it now doesn't seem as strange. I remember last month a brief conversation you two had. I didn't think anything of it. It wasn't out of the ordinary since you both talk together occasionally."

"Yeah, well. Not right now. He's been getting on my nerves," the American grumbled.

"Your countries are not cooperating?"

"It's not our countries that have the problem right now. It's him." Alfred glanced at his friend and felt a little unnerved by his expression. Shaking his head as if the action alone would clear his thoughts, he put back on his Hollywood smile and forced his regular enthusiasm to seep his voice. "I don't want to talk about Russia right now, Kiku. Let's just chill for a little while, is that okay?"

The Asian let his gaze linger a moment before shutting his eyes and placing a small smile against his lips as well. "As you wish, America-san."

"Alfred."

Japan buried his face in his hands, frustrated as Alfred laughed.

The morning of the first day of the summit took a toll on Alfred. He had coincidentally tossed and turned in his bed without the slightest chance of falling asleep soon taking place. Sleeping seemed to be a chore to him as of late and it was starting to make itself present in both his energy and the amount of caffeine consumption he'd been trying to intake. So it was safe to say that when his wake up call came, Alfred all but fell out of bed listlessly.

Not only had sleep deprivation been hitting the American on a small level currently, but that annoyance or something akin to anxiety that filled his chest had arisen again. There were two reasons why that popped into his mind while he showered and got dressed. The first was the more obvious reason; Russia.

He had hoped to avoid him as long as possible, but that seemed a bit hard to do when enclosed in a room with him for hours on end. It wasn't an angry feeling that he had the last time at the conference, but it was still a small annoyance. He didn't want to deal with Russia in case he brought up the second reason why he dreaded going to the meeting.

Alfred swallowed nervously and peered into his mirror, running a hand gently through his hair. He let out a breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding and placed sweaty palms against the bathroom counter. What was he doing? This was ridiculous. He shouldn't be primping and stalling like some little kid in the bathroom. He needed to puff out his chest and walk confidently into that room with his chin held high.

Who cared if England would most likely try to talk to him or come near him? That wasn't abnormal. England still treated him like a child as annoying as that was. He could deal with that…couldn't he?

Alfred frowned. Yes. Yes he could. If he didn't think about it then this wouldn't be bothering him at all. Besides, he didn't need to be similar to someone to be close to them, right?

Alfred let a hesitant smile pull at his lips. Now slightly convinced due to his great mental ability to persuade himself, Alfred exited his room in search for the conference hall. It was a bit frustrating when he actually managed to get lost and couldn't speak Japanese. Everyone he asked couldn't understand him either. Damn language barrier.

With five minutes to spare, Alfred had finally found the proper building much to his excitement. His thrill was short-lived when remembering exactly why he was feeling so anxious a few minutes ago. Because of his near tardiness, the room was full of different faces dancing with the different cultures all around the world. Alfred straightened and began to look for an empty seat where he could sulk in seclusion.

"Good morning, America," Italy greeted when looking up mid-conversation with Spain. He smiled cheerfully with rosy cheeks, eyes sprinkled with recognition.

"Hey," Alfred greeted back with a small smile of his own. He just wanted to brush by everyone and take a seat. Italy moved forward and clasped his hands of Alfred's in appreciation.

"I never got the chance to thank you for sending me those files," Italy said, fingers clasping tighter over the American's.

Alfred's eyes started glancing behind Italy longingly at the table. He knew if he could just sit down then he would be A-okay. "Yeah? That's great. It was no big deal."

"But it was! And it was such short notice too. I felt awful when I called you. You sounded preoccupied and tired so I couldn't help but feel guilty like I was bothering you," the Italian explained. Alfred peered at him tentatively and strained his ears to understand the thick Italian accent. The brunette was talking so fast he couldn't quite follow. He just nodded quickly before trying to pull his hands away.

"Like I said, no big deal."

He vaguely registered Italy going on about something or other when Alfred let his eyes drift up and stop when landing on a large figure by the windows. He froze, lips opening ever so slightly as his stomach squirmed. Russia was having a discussion with his sister, Ukraine. He smiled and nodded pleasantly at all the right moments. It was almost surreal. Alfred didn't remember Russia ever looking normal during a conversation. There was always a sense of false politeness or secret malice behind his posture and words, but with his sister that didn't seem to be the case.

He looked oddly like a normal human being.

Perhaps Alfred had been staring too long, he wasn't sure. He'd had a problem keeping tracking time as of late. But when Russia glanced up, seeming to notice someone watching him, his eyes snagged lightly onto Alfred's. He just stood there stupidly, outright staring at Russia as Italy stood clasping his hands, mouth going a mile a minute.

But just as Russia had looked up with curious violet eyes, did he tear them away apathetically to focus back onto his sister. Alfred managed to kick his brain into gear then, blinking in a confused manner.

What? No cheerful wave or annoying barrage of questions?

Alfred furrowed his brow, feeling his perplexity running through his veins like an overflowing stream of icy water. Did Russia just…snub him?

"America?"

Alfred was jerked from his own little world at the sound of Italy's voice. He pulled his hands away quickly with a fake smile that he pulled whenever he wasn't listening. He'd perfected it when he was younger, so used to zoning out during England's scoldings. "Sorry. I'm still a little tired. Haven't had my coffee yet, y'know?" he laughed and punched playfully at Italy's shoulder.

The brunette looked a bit befuddled before laughing as well. Alfred thanked the heavens above that it was Italy who had decided to greet him this morning. Much like himself – even though Alfred didn't want to admit it – Italy could be easily swayed away from a subject with a smile and a friendly gesture.

"I'll catch up with you later. Again, don't worry about those files. Everyone slips up now and again." Alfred gave a brief wave before moving out of the way and heading towards an empty seat. Once seated he sighed and ran a hand over his face.

How was it possible that a period of five minutes could feel so strained? He would never understand.

It didn't get any better once the meeting commenced either. Not only did Alfred's eyes feel weighed down with cement from his terrible night of tossing and turning, but Russia was toying and tugging at the side of his mind the whole time. It was maddening. Alfred was feeling paranoid and took several glances towards the Russian when Japan was at the pulpit. It wasn't uncommon. What with the way Russia had been acting towards him with all the calls and the few times he ran into him at a restaurant, it was normal to assume Russia would be watching him, would it?

And yet every time he'd glanced up Russia was involved with his own work, focused solely onto the presentation. It was unnerving. Alfred clenched and unclenched his fingers at his sides in terrible confusion. Was he trying to mess with him? Was this a clever new way to get Alfred riled up and unable to concentrate?

Well.

…It was working.

At the halfway mark, Alfred had had his fingers fisted in his hair, face plastered against the top of the tabletop. He didn't move or even register a voice until a light tapping touched his shoulder. Alfred raised his head cautiously and looked up into the eyes of Japan. He stared at him, arm full of papers that he was collecting.

"It's lunchtime, Alfred-san."

Alfred blinked and glanced around, many bodies making their exit or idly chatting about random spots in the room. The room had gone from buzzing to a quiet lull, voices quietly talking to each other. He slowly sat up and removed his fingers from his hair.

"Oh. Alright." Alfred stifled a yawn when Japan stepped around him to collect another stack of papers.

"Were you sleeping?" the Asian asked distastefully.

Alfred pulled at his jacket and stood up, calmly scooting his chair back in. "No," he answered truthfully. Japan looked at him skeptically. "I wasn't sleeping, but I wasn't paying attention either. Sorry."

Japan frowned but continued down the table. "Priorities, Alfred-san. You will only get chided if you don't do your work."

"Yeah, yeah. You sound like my mom," Alfred muttered with a small smile. "How long do we have?"

"An hour," Japan answered absentmindedly, too preoccupied with his current task to get fully involved into the conversation. Alfred checked his watch before making his way towards the doors. He rubbed the back of his head and stretched his arms to get the stiffness out of his muscles. "Please arrive back here at the set time," Japan said before he managed to leave.

Alfred flashed a thumbs up over his shoulder before disappearing out the doors. He casually made his way out of room and took the elevator to the bottom floor. Once there he got a glance out the window and frowned. It was raining. As of right now it was a slight drizzle, but Alfred still wasn't in the mood to get wet. His old bomber jacket didn't have a hood.

With another sigh (which seemed to be the best way to breathe for him at the moment) he trudged out into the chilly Japanese streets. He only managed to get a block before he thought he heard his name over the pattering of the water. Alfred's skin started to crawl as the hair on the back of his neck abruptly shot up. He turned slowly, begrudgingly towards whomever was calling out to him, expecting none other than Russia to be following after him with his typical smile perched on his face.

Eyebrows rose up into his hairline when seeing a peculiar British man making his way towards him with a large trench coat, scowling when his nice dress shoe sank into a puddle. "Bleeding rain. I'd much prefer the snow," he grumbled under his breath before reaching the surprised American.

Looking as relaxed as possible, England folded his fingers over Alfred's arm and tugged him lightly to the side. They stood under the ledge of some building where rain wouldn't trickle over their heads. "Don't stand there gawking like a fool. You're going to look like you've just tumbled out of the shower."

Alfred continued to stare, only brought back to the situation when England brushed his hands lightly against Alfred's damp bangs, moving them out of his eyes. He flinched and took a step back, lips pursing together as he glanced away. England didn't appear to notice the nervousness in Alfred's posture or the way his hands started to pull at each other.

"Goodness, lad. Why do you still insist on wearing that old, ratted coat? It does you no good for weather such as this," England said, eyeing the old, cracked leather with assessing eyes. Alfred looked down at the shorter nation carefully.

Because I'm…sentimental Alfred thought, slowly recalling the conversation he'd had with Russia in Germany.

"Look at this, it's nearly soaked. How long have you been in this rain? I'm going to go ahead and guess only a minute or so. I've told you before that I can send you a proper coat that will keep you both warm and dry. And don't go belittling British goods like I know you're going to. I don't know if you haven't noticed but 'Made in America' isn't exactly at the top of the best manufactured list," England droned on, folding his hands under his elbows.

Alfred waited quietly and forced his mind away from the great urge to suddenly compare every aspect of himself to – to England. He managed to look down at England which was a hard thing to do; not only because of his stiff neck, but also because his glasses were littered with pebbles of water droplets.

"What did you…what exactly was it that you needed?" he asked, England's green eyes shooting up to his own. The Briton didn't say anything a moment before huffing indifferently.

"I thought you might want to get lunch. You looked a bit distracted during the meeting so I concluded that it had to have something to do with your stomach," England stated matter-of-factly.

Alfred felt slightly flustered at that. England had noticed him during the meeting? That was…new. He never knew that England even observed him let alone went out of his way to do it during business. And Alfred knew exactly how serious England got when it came to business.

"Lunch? You mean, like, with you?" Alfred reiterated daftly.

England raised a rather large eyebrow at the dumbfounded look on Alfred's face. "Yes," he finally answered, it coming out suspicious to the quelled tone Alfred had used.

Another bout of silence aside from a car driving by, water splashing onto the curb. "Y-yeah. Sound's good. I have time," Alfred said with a lopsided smile. England narrowed his eyes slightly, opening his mouth and looking as if he wanted to say something but held it back. He nodded in agreement before motioning to the streets.

"Well then. Let's not dawdle any longer. They don't give us much time before another session of that begins."

Alfred followed blindly after England, easily keeping up with the shorter man due to his long legs. England walked at a brisk pace wanting to avoid the rain as much as possible, only glancing over his shoulder once or twice to see if Alfred was keeping up. They walked to the end of the block before England abruptly pushed open a door, waving impatiently for Alfred to walk inside. Shaking his head to get rid of the slight moisture resting there, Alfred looked up to see many familiar faces from the conference hall.

He wasn't surprised, really. Nobody wanted to fare the rain right now, and considering this was the closest quick eatery nearby, it wasn't an unnatural assumption.

He scowled when seeing a few faces he wished weren't present, such as the soviet siblings, a few nations in the middle east that he'd been having some tiffs with, and a couple of other people who he owed a few bucks to and it was just awkward to be around them on his free time.

England's hand to his shoulder guided him forward towards the counter to order. "Don't block the doorway, Alfred," he muttered under his breath. Alfred complied easily and approached the counter. He effortlessly ordered, not really caring what he was getting to eat or how much it cost, still too distracted by a million things swarming his mind like bees. England had instructed him to snag the small table by the glass doors while he retrieved their food.

Alfred sat quietly, just staring at his hands and ignoring the eyes that passed over him. Now that he didn't have anything to distract him he was forced to remember why he wanted minimal to no interaction with England today. Maybe if he mentally prepared himself then it would've been fine seeing the Englishman take his seat across from him with their food, but he hadn't had the opportunity to do that.

He pulled his tray close to himself and gaped at how much food he'd actually ordered. With England sitting across from him with just a bowl of soup and some sort of bread he looked like a stereotypical fat American. He fidgeted more and started poking around the meat on his plate.

"You aren't seriously going to eat all of that, are you?" England asked into the side of his glass.

Alfred felt his face heat up in embarrassment before trying to laugh it off, the sound coming out awkward and unnatural. England raised an eyebrow precariously as Alfred forced a large bite of food into his mouth. "Is that a challenge?" he teased.

At that England shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "Does it take a challenge to get you to stuff your face?" he chuckled to himself. Alfred frowned and stretched his legs under the table, foot accidentally scuffing England in the shin. He apologized quickly, nearly dropping his fork in the process. England tilted his head to the side in puzzlement at the abnormal behavior Alfred was displaying but continued chewing silently.

Oh, this had been a bad idea. A terrible idea. Why had he allowed himself to be dragged with England for lunch? It was painfully obvious from his side of the table that he and England were nothing alike. Somewhere in the back of his mind while England chattered on about a certain novel he'd recently found endearing, Alfred thought that yes, if it had been any other time he would be able to find a million things similar. But this feeling currently clogging his chest was overpowering anything with any semblance to a similarity to England.

Alfred paused mid-chew and placed his fork down. His eyes scoured the room, spotting many nations and picking out at least one thing he could think of that was historically traced back to himself. What perturbed him was that they came to him instantly without much thought. Why, why, why was his mind working against him this very moment? All he could think about was why.

His eyes finally fell upon the corner where Russia and his fellow comrades sat. Alfred stared with a frown, that confusion that was bubbling like irritated magma mixing with anger like a cyclone. This was all Russia's fault. It had to be. He was the one randomly talking to him and clinging onto him, filling his head with lies and trying to brainwash him for his own sick, sadistic pleasure.

And yet there he was, sitting and talking like nothing in the world was wrong; like he didn't know that Alfred was watching him. Alfred clenched his teeth and chewed against his lip when Russia kept ignoring him. This was so…so unfair and annoying. Gosh! He was so close to ripping all his hair out.

"–fred. Alfred."

Alfred jumped, eyes as large as lily pads when he gazed towards his companion, all sense of anger flowing out of him in one quick breath. England had his head tilted, eyebrows furrowed and full attention on the blonde.

"Y-yeah?"

"Is something the matter? You don't look like you heard a word I said," he said distastefully and leaned back against his chair with folded arms.

"Huh? Oh, no. I did. You were saying that embroidery is a useful skill and that if I made another crude joke about it you were going to shove my fork down my throat."

England paused, looking absolutely incredulous before muttering something under his breath and continuing on.

Phew. Lucky guess. He dodged a bullet there.

With the island nation flapping his jaw about another topic Alfred could care less about, he let his eyes drift back to Russia. He wore that same smile on his face, that smooth, tamed one that he had when talking to Ukraine. It was nothing like the smile he wore around him. The only smiles Russia seemed to reserve for Alfred were teasing ones, ones full of secrets, and cruel ones.

Alfred frowned. Look at him with that stupid big nose and that fluttery, light hair tickling the tops of his ears and eyelashes and large build. Of course he had to look innocent and malevolent all at the same time. Only Russia could manage to do that. He may have looked innocent at times, but much like Alfred, Russia had a surprising temper fueled by stubbornness.

He froze.

Oh. Oh God. Much like Alfred? Much like him? Alfred felt devastatingly horrified at that moment. He tore his eyes back to England whose mouth was moving but no real words seeming to come out. Alfred forced himself to wrack his mind for something, anything that would do. How could he be like Russia but not like England? That was too much. He needed some air and space to sort this out.

Standing up abruptly Alfred towered over England whose green eyes followed him in alarm, words no longer coming from his lips. "Alfred?"

"I need to – I forgot something at my hotel," he announced quickly, not really caring if that was a significant answer to leave the restaurant in such a hurry. Alfred didn't catch the flabbergasted look England cast him or the confused protests from him when he walked into the rain. It pulled at his hair and clothing, sending chills down his spine and planting Goosebumps to sprout on his skin. He walked and walked with no real destination in mind before settling on a cement bench and placing his chin in his palm.

Many people walking past him cast him a glance only because of his blonde hair and blue eyes; people just seemed to love foreigners. Alfred shut his eyes and just let the feel of rain hit him until he was completely soaked. Mentally exhausted, the American stayed perfectly still, hoping that by some fluke in physics, the bench would swallow him whole so he wouldn't have to think anymore.

He just didn't have it in him.

Alfred wasn't exactly sure how long he'd been sitting there. He was soaked to the core and shivering like mad when all of the sudden the rain stopped hitting his head, shoulders, and back. He thought it was just his imagination but no; there was no more water plaguing him. Opening his eyes slowly, Alfred leaned up to see a large polka dot umbrella resting over his head. He stared for a long while before following the arm holding it, not showing any sign of abrupt displeasure when seeing Russia standing there.

The Russian smiled pleasantly, almost as if expecting a form of gratitude. Alfred looked away and resumed his slumped stance. "Thanks," he muttered.

"You are very welcome, dear America." He gestured to the spot next to Alfred politely even though he knew Alfred wasn't watching him. "Is this seat taken?" he inquired.

"I don't know," Alfred said dully.

"May I sit here?"

"I don't care…"

Russia hummed lightly to himself before sitting down on the wet bench, tucking his head under a corner of the umbrella so that he was sharing with Alfred. It was quite large; large enough so that it didn't look awkward. Now, such a large man sharing an umbrella with the blonde that looked like a soaked rat was a different story of awkward entirely.

He didn't seem to mind if his bottom was getting wet, probably used to much worse than a little water. Russia just sat there satisfyingly next to Alfred as if just soaking in the American's presence was enjoyable enough for him. After a while Alfred lifted his head enough to see intrigued violet eyes dancing over the various faces passing them by, most of which looking oddly baffled by the two of them sharing a pink polka dot umbrella.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Alfred asked after his jaw thawed enough.

"I could ask you the same thing," Russia replied without looking at him.

True. No doubt the conference had resumed. There was no way to mistake that they'd been out longer than an hour. Alfred frowned and sniffed, the smell of wet cement and vodka filling his nostrils at Russia's close proximity. Their sides were practically touching. He thought distantly of moving but decided against it at the last second. Russia was warm, or at least his coat was, Alfred couldn't deny it. And he appreciated the small amount of heat he was getting after sitting around in the rain for God knew how long.

He opened his mouth to tell Russia to buzz off or something of the equivalent.

"I thought you were ignoring me."

Okay, that wasn't exactly what he'd meant to say. Russia shifted slightly, looking down towards Alfred, their eyes locking. "Where would you get an idea like that?" he chuckled.

What was somebody supposed to say to that? Feeling awkward and absolutely antsy from his slipup, Alfred sat up with a groan. His bones cracked in protest. "Nowhere." Smart. That was a good answer. He mentally applauded himself.

Russia turned away, possibly in thought before responding. His voice sounded light and approachable if any stranger had heard it. "Were you feeling lonely because I had not so much as said hello upon your arrival?"

The sincerity of it all shot a jolt of adrenaline and sent him on the defensive. "N-no. I was happy you weren't bothering me," he spat with as much venom as he could muster. It was a shame it wasn't as much as he'd hoped for. Russia giggled to himself sounding simply pleased.

"I see through your words, America."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alfred demanded and frowned bitterly. Russia shook his head and peered up at the sky.

"Whatever you wish it to mean."

"You're not making sense again. Although I don't know why I bother to try and understand what you're saying through that accent of yours. Two thirds of it doesn't make sense," he grumbled and pulled at his jacket sleeves. He was soaked to the bone and he was starting to feel it. Every cell in his body was starting to hate the rain just as much as he hated the snow.

Russia didn't even seem bothered, let alone like he was listening to Alfred. He simply flexed his fingers over the handle of the umbrella and spun it, overjoyed to see dribbles of raindrops flying off the edges. Alfred blinked and watched it as well. There was just something about Russia's almost childlike amazement that was too forthcoming to look away. How could someone so large and unpredictable seem like such a small kid? Alfred would never understand.

"Is something bothering you?" Russia asked, tearing through Alfred's temporary peace in one fluid motion.

"…What makes you think something's bothering me?" Alfred asked and tightened his lips. Except you.

"You are not as talkative at this present time. It is boring," Russia explained and stopped spinning the umbrella. "America should be talking. His voice is very fun to hear."

Alfred balked at Russia's playful smile, eyes looking at him with twinkling mirth. Forget the fact that Russia was speaking very strangely. Forget the fact that he was doing kind act number two by holding an umbrella over Alfred's head. Had he actually…complimented him?

"You speak of things that are both impossible and exciting. It is like your life is like a storybook," Russia informed, hiding another giggle behind his hand.

Alright, Alfred took that back. He was nowhere near complimenting him.

"If my life is a storybook then you're the big, bad monster," Alfred muttered in response. Russia stopped his laughing immediately, eyes losing some of their delight. Alfred felt his stomach churn behind such a look; secretive and – was that annoyance?

"Perhaps you are right," Russia concurred with a strained smile looking almost offended. Had Russia ever gotten offended? He leaned forward, much too close for Alfred's comfort. They came face to face, little beads of water falling from the fringe of Russia's hair from when he'd stood in the rain, offering only Alfred the umbrella. He smiled showing the tips of his teeth, eyes alight with glee. "But then again you are so rarely right that who knows where the story will go. Maybe it is you who is the villain."

Alfred gawked, pulling his face away when he could feel Russia's breath ghosting over his cheeks. He rubbed at them lightly with his moist sleeve. "How can I be the villain in my own story? You're dumb."

Russia leaned up as well, a few head sizes above Alfred as he did so. "I have seen stranger things happen."

"I wouldn't doubt it."

With that all conversation died. They were back to where they started, sitting on a damp bench with nothing but the sound of cars and the rain accompanying them. Alfred folded his arms together and made his teeth not chatter. He didn't want to get up just yet but he didn't want Russia to think he was some wimp who couldn't take the cold. Motion to his side brought his attention back to Russia who was now standing, the warmth he provided his side now absent and feeling empty.

Rain touched Alfred's head once more as Russia smiled down at him much like an invitation. "Would you like to go for a walk with me? Such a lovely day should be taken advantage of."

He had no idea what compelled him to slowly stick out his hand, nor did he know why he let the word 'sure' slip past his lips. Russia's eyes stared at the outstretched hand curiously before he gave it a light tug which pulled Alfred to his feet easily. Alfred could only push the thought aside with all his might that Russia's extended hand reminded him of those grassy evenings back when he was small. To where England would invite him for a walk and hold out his hand glowing in the setting sun like a warm promise of safety.

Alfred didn't feel safe around Russia. But for a split second he did feel like he did at that very moment all those years ago. It was gone with a fleeting breath and Alfred felt the world wasn't quite as fair as he'd wanted it to be.

How could Russia be like England and yet he could not? Perhaps his life was really like a storybook. He just hoped Russia wouldn't ruin his happily ever after as he seemed so prone to do.