A/N: I'm going to just…stand in the corner over here…and hope to not get yelled at. Yeah, I know. I suck. I took way too long to update this. I never stopped writing it was just coming out really slow. This chapter was hard to write and life was being itself. However, since my last chapter, I got a new car, Benny to replace my beloved Jack that I lost because of the accident, I got a new job that I don't hate, and I fulfilled one of my dreams of visiting the UK! As for the chapter, I hope you enjoy. It actually ended up being one of the longest, so that's good. Also, I just wanted to point out that I had a lot of help for this chapter from this book I found called '1959 The Year Everything Changed' The wonders of the library, right?! Well, I already made you wait long enough so, ENJOY!

"Would you take it off?"

"Take what off?" America squinted at the moving pictures on the television set, not even bothering to take a look at the man speaking to him. He never once noticed his guest standing there by his side for some time now, waiting for a reaction that never came.

"The blasted beret." England crossed his arms as he continued standing and looking down at the American slouching down on the couch, a bowl of chips in his lap. The seated nation's hands occasionally grabbed one of the crispy snacks causing a loud crunching to come out of his mouth.

"What? Why?" America asked, readjusting the head wear. "I'm an all natural shape in a drape."

The Brit lowered his shoulders, bowed his brows and tilted his head slightly to the right. "What?"

Finally breaking his focus away from the magical box, America turned his head and gave a lopsided smiled, none too innocent. "You wanna see the shape in action?" he winked. "Ow…"He exclaimed as the Brit snatched the hat off his head and happily gave him a good smack as a departure gift.

"You remind me too much of the frog with it on."

"You didn't have to hit me." America whined, his hand rubbing his head roughly. England scrunched his lips in irritation when the American examined his palm for any potential signs of blood. When he was finally satisfied that he was not squirting blood from a busted vein in his brain, he put his hand back down, signed, and returned back to the television.

"You're taking all of this rather well." The Brit acknowledged as he watched the younger nation remain calm and relaxed though out the night, too calm for his liking.

"Of course, I'm a cool cat." America said, earning himself a concerned look from the Brit still standing by the side of the couch. A nice brown couch the younger man had been exceedingly excited about getting, having just arrived a few weeks ago.

The concerned expression lasted only for a short few seconds as it soon became one of confusion and general annoyance. "Would you kindly speak English?" The older man asked just about having enough of the gibberish the American had been spewing from his mouth the last few days. He was used to America butchering his language with countless word changes, pronunciations, and slang. Yet, this time around he was having a difficult time just understanding anything the younger man was saying, as if he was speaking a completely different language all together.

"I am speaking English, American English." England rolled his eyes. "What did you think I was speaking?" The younger man finished with a smirk.

"I have no bloody clue." England responded nonchalantly monotone.

"Funny. I didn't know clues could be bloody." America replied, his smirk quickly widening. "Ow." He once again exclaimed as he returned his hand to his head after another blow.

"They are for murder scenes." England said, swerving around long legs to take a seat on the overly soft brown cushions.

"Was that a threat? And quit hitting me." America pouted from both the hit and the terrible attempt at a joke.

"Are you doing this as a way to make yourself feel better about it all?" England shifted in his seat to have a better look at the younger nation that promptly began ignoring him for the television once more. Well, if that didn't look like a clear avoidance of the situation.

"Though I am thrilled that you are not cowering under a table or—trying to kill me." America turned to him with a scowl. England smiled, knowing how to get a reaction out of the other nation. Granted, it wasn't exactly the nicest way of doing so. Sometimes tough love was the only way, he supposed. "But ignoring them isn't good either."

"You're an ass." The American said bluntly, looking up though his lashes.

"I try, dear." England's smile grew.

"I don't know why you're over reacting about me not over reacting." America started, ignoring the subtle words of 'That's what you do.' Instead, he went on talking calmly. "I have nothing to worry about, Arthur, really. Everything is fine, really. Quit worrying about me…really" England's eyes squinted as America continued on, his face bright with a pearly grin and illuminated blues, the amount of 'reallys' being an overwhelming concern.

"Just because we were just given an ultimatum by Russia, and one of his satellites is out floating away, and because Russia decided to just pop in tomorrow." America exhaled. "Oh right, and I think my brother is having a secret love affair with Cuba." He cringed.

"That's a disturbing thought." England shuddered slightly himself.

"You think?" America groaned, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses.

"Do you feel better now?" England asked, observing the clear blank expression on the taller man's face. America had snapped from being lively, despite his slight outburst of complaints, to being dead to the world, the living world. The make believe world inside the TV set could feel his presence perfectly as his eyes penetrated thorough the glass and pixels.

England signed internally. All day the American's attention had been on an unstable loop. One second he would be awake, enjoying an ever meaningless conversation to completely shutting himself off from consciousness the next. The television just helped to provide an easy mechanism and excuse for escape.

Not that the Brit could blame him. He was himself was involved in the ultimatum given not too long ago. They had been keeping a strong hold, all three of them, the Frenchman included. America's words though sounding naïve rang truth. They were going forward and keeping their ground by standing together. This didn't stop the American from staying on his toes and his hands shaky.

"Why don't you go to sleep, love?" England suggested, seeing the deep black bags that hung below the man's eyes. He was having trouble sleeping. That was a clear understatement. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since the beginning of this feud he was having with Russia. A good 14 years of tossing and turning, years of grabbing his pistol from his bedside at the slightest sound.

England could still remember the panic he felt one night when he awoke to find himself alone in the bedroom, the gun missing from the nightstand. The sight of the weapon always made him cringe but with it gone a sense of dread crept through every fiber of his body. Getting up from the warmed brought a shiver down his spine that he fought to ignore as he made his way to the darken hallway.

There was a deafening sound of nothingness that night as he guided himself by a hand pressed firmly upon the wall. The floor underneath him creaked with the weight of his steps as he made it to the living room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness by that point which helped him make out the figure crouched down by the window. The American was frantic, stapling the black curtains to the wall to prevent any light from coming into the lonely house, running from one side of the house to the other insisting that he heard someone trying to break in, holding England's face demanding to know who had hurt him when there was no indication that anything had happened to him. England had spent half of that night trying to talk the American down until he finally agreed to at least sleep on the couch.

America tilted his head just enough to see the pale slender hand that had been placed on his shoulder, and frowned at the Brit who had zoned out for a moment himself. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked looking deeply in the pools of green and speckled hazels. They were pools that he could have sworn where getting darker.

"Because I was trying to be supportive you ungrateful over confident twat." England puffed, leaning back into the cushions of his seat.

America smiled as he saw the older nation sink deeper and deeper into the crevice of the couch. "Whoa, there." America laughed. England's bouts of anger were entertaining as ever. "That's more like it." He said putting his hands up in defense. England replied with an angry puff of air escaping his otherwise tight lipped mouth. "I'll be fine though, really."

"Quit saying that bloody word!"England said in a seemingly random flare-up. The general lack of concern in America's demeanor was slowly driving England to a breaking point. England was an expert of hidden emotions, there was no way the America would be able to pull that play on him. He knew all too well that the calm façade was just that.

"Alright, someone's a little uptight now." The America said, attempting to lighten the mood that seemed to have escalated rather quickly.

"Oh, spare me." England rolled his eyes. "It's that attitude of yours that's going to get you into further trouble."

"Please." America scoffed, setting aside his bowl of chips and stood from his seat. He didn't want this, none of it. He was not in the mood for it, not tonight. So, with a scowl on his face he walked away towards the kitchen door. "I hate when you start acting like my mother." He spat out.

"Excuse me?" England said spitefully as he sat up straight, his arms crossed as his nostrils flared, all while his disbelieving ears began to change into a light shade of pink. "I'm just trying to—

"Can't you just shut up every once and while?" America interrupted, stopping his steps, violently flipping around to face the Brit once more.

"Don't take that tone with me." England replied, his eyes narrowed and his shoulder tensed as he stood, his arms still crossed and his feet now planted firmly on the ground. He glared daggers at the American who scowled in return. "Not when I'm just trying to—

"I know!" America interrupted once more, England's face reddening by the second. "I know you're trying to help, okay?" America sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "But frankly, babe." He said lowering his tone and adjusting his askew lenses. "You're really bad at it."

England deflated slightly as the Americans words. He wasn't going to deny that motion. Instead, he tossed the beret he had continued holding on to the sofa. He remained standing, both silent and avoiding any eye contact with each other. The Brit assumed anyways, as that what he was doing. He decided that staring at the hands of the grandfather clock as they moved slowly to be a better option. He had no desire to continue on with the argument but he was too stubborn and proud to fully stand down.

As the British nation was about to witness the large hand tick to its third number, the sound of speaking ripped him away from his concentration. "It is to make me feel better." England looked away from the clocks face to the younger nation who also remained standing in his identical spot. "I don't want to, you know…" he continued making an explosion gesture with his hands that he placed on either side of his head. "Russia knows his mind games." He finished, staring down at his feet that fidgeted lightly.

England glazed down at the American's jittery legs. As odd as it sounded, he was glad to see them bounce. It reminded him of when the American was younger and more naïve. It reminded him of when they twitched from excitement not anxiety. "He does." England agreed, licking his lower lip.

The Russian knew the best way to get America jumping nowadays was to launch some new fancy contraption into space and that was exactly what he was doing. He would get a shinny satellite flying and then announce he wanted to meet. Out of the blue, he decided to pay America a visit for what he called a diplomatic tour. Caught by complete surprise, America was trying his hardest to not only keep his cool but to plan how exactly he was going to handle the remainder of the week.

"So, I got us something to keep us relaxed." America said. His eyes were hopeful as he gave the Brit the tiniest of smiles, wishing that the previous conversation was at its end. He knew fights with the older nation could be a tad taxing, both usually to stubborn to give up.

"You didn't get me shoes again, did you?" England responded, happy to see America's shoulders loosen as the tension subsided.

Letting out a true laugh at the Englishman's playful comment, America shook his head. "No. Just wait." He said rushing into the kitchen, his goal from the very beginning. It didn't take long for him to return, the door swinging behind him.

"Should you really keep buying things?" England asked, cringing slightly to himself, wishing he didn't sound too much like America's "mother" with that question. The once great and powerful empire liked smothering his younglings. That wasn't anything new, being a mother hen just spilled out of his pores at times. He was glad when America simply shrugged, apparent that he decided to let the comment slide off his shoulders.

"Here." America said handing the Brit a long flat box once reaching his side.

Taking it curiously, England smiled upon closer inspection. "A record, what a surprise." He said happily amused at the gift choice. Though the American did have random burst of musical obsessions and they more often than not served as an inspiration, the blue suede shoes being a prime example, albums themselves have not usually been the gift of choice. "Kind of Blue." England read off the album cover before flipping it over and examining the opposite side.

"Yup." America smiled proudly. "It isn't even technically out yet." He said in a fake whisper, the kind of whisper where you speak just as loudly but placed a hand at the corner of your mouth as if it would help.

"Well, of course." England rolled his eyes at the younger nation's excitement. His enthusiasm over the perks of being a nation never seemed to wan with him. It was the charm of a not even being two hundred years old.

"It's supposed to be really good, one of his best."

"Well, by all means." Playing along, England handed the album back over to the American. Gladly accepting the black colored album, America made his way to his record player that sat neatly on the wooden counter. "Any plans for tomorrow." England asked as the other nation prepared the entertainment.

With such an uncharacteristic gentleness, America removed the record from its cardboard protection and placed it upon the player. Finally shrugging in response to the Brit's question he moved the player's arm over to sit upon the vinyl. "Just send him a box of cereal and hope he doesn't actually want to talk to me." He said as a jazzy tune began to fill the room. "That sounds like a good idea to me. Don't you think?" He asked, placing a hand on to the entertainment center and shifted his weight upon it. Looking over to the Brit, his smirk widened into a smile.

Crossing his arms and licking his lips, England's eyes shifted upward slightly as his let out a tiny sigh. Taking notes from the American in front of him, he decided to respond with a silent shrug of the shoulders.

"Ah...sir?"

America flinched, nearly dropping his cup of coffee onto the recently waxed wooden floors when he quickly removed his feet from the desk they were resting on. He hurriedly sat up straight on his black leather chair and adjusted his crooked tie. He was certainly working hard. He was just taking a short needed break from it all, he thought to himself as he cleared his throat and looked up towards the door of his office.

Standing there was one of his assistants wearing a lightly wrinkled grey suit and a solemn expression. A thin layer of sweat was clearly visible on his upper forehead as he gripped the door knob. "Sir…" he repeated half inside the room, his other half standing just outside the threshold. "We have a slight situation." He barely finished, never giving America a chance to react before the door opened the rest of the way with a bang.

Jeffrey, his poor assistant who was going to get a raise after today, scurried out of the way as the large figure of the Russian nation came through the doorway. America's face fell as the Russian stalked his way over. His forlorn expression lasted only a mere second before shifting into smug as he stood up from his chair. Cocking his chin upward, America held back a snarl when the Russian smiled at him upon reaching his desk.

"America, you are doing well, yes?" Russia said casually, as if he did not just barge into America's office in the middle of the day, most likely permanently scarring an employee or two. His expression remained ever the same as he glazed the room. It wasn't much, just a small office with wooden floors, white walls, and a window. He had to have a window. Demanded it when they made him this space for when he didn't feel like heading down to his more luxurious room in the White House. "Da?" He asked again, when his eyes returned to the blonde before him.

"Yeah." America answered simply; smacking his lips and stuffing his hands into his pockets. "What are you doing here?" He asked, earning himself a confused look and a tilt of the head from the Russian.

"Ah, you do not remember?" Russia's taunted, his head tilting innocently back to the opposite side. "I came to visit." He continued answering the question. He knew it wasn't what the American was asking, not exactly.

America remembered the visit. It was announced just a day before the Russian was to arrive and he heard about it every day since then. The Russian had already been in the country for several days now. America had just been able to give him the slip. He was finally beginning to relax, thinking he would get out of it scot-free. So, yes, he remembered the visit very well.

"Yeah, I got that." America said with a melancholy look. "I just mean, what are you doing here?" he said pointing his index fingers to the ground.

"Ah." The Russian giggled making America cringe and face muscles scrunch. "Well, America." He paused to give a dimpled grin. "While I have enjoyed the…ah—what is the name—Wheaties?" he again stopped in wait for a reaction, smiling when he only received the sight of the American swallowing. "It has been quite good. However, I was hoping to be given a tour by the host." He took a step closer, laying his hand flat on top of the shiny wood. "I have been lonely."

"Oh." America cleared his throat and eyed his phone. He was willing someone somewhere on the other end to call in right at that very moment. He just needed enough time to think of what to do or say. His attempt at telepathy failed and all he was left with was a nervous assistant, a staring Russian, and awkward silence.

"And bored." Russia said interrupting the quiet creeping around them.

"Oh." America repeated himself articulately. "Ah…" He quickly continued in a small panic when he noticed the Russian beginning to open his mouth once again. "Tomorrow." Not wanting to be beaten to the punch he blurted out the first thing he could think of. In a bizarre sloped forced smile and a creased brow, America internally kicked himself. "Tomorrow, we'll start the tour." He finished having no other choice.

"Good." Russia nodded. "I would very much like that." Leaning off the desk, he straightened his posture as he made his way to leave. "I appreciate your hospitality." Just as the two Americans were beginning to loosen their shoulders and relax, Russia stopped mid way through the office. "Ah, but I would not mind more of the Wheaties." He grinned as he turned his head back to face the American standing behind his desk. "Ice cream would also be welcomed." He finished just before stepping his way out the room, the door shutting behind him.

America stood silently still, staring at the closed engraved wooden door. He blinked almost endlessly for a full minute, unbelieving what had just transpired. He prayed to the freedom gods that the communist would not stroll back in. It was bad enough that he now had to spend the rest of his week with him.

Swallowing the over moisture that was collecting in his mouth, America shook his head in order to knock himself out of his stupor. He ran a hand over his face and signed. As he slowly regained consciousness from his temporary trance, he noticed his traumatized assistant still there. He was standing still, slightly hunched over with his shoulder pressed on the wall near the door. He also was peering through the woodened barrier, wishing he could look through with x-ray vision.

"Jeffrey." America called out causing the already jittery man to pop up straight in a nervous panic, his eye round as he turned to face his nation.

"Yes?" He asked nearly breathless, America making his way to him.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" America suggested, pressing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Yeah?" he said when Jeffrey only looked up at him silently.

"Okay" the assistant nodded, agreeing. "Okay, I would like that. Thank you, sir" he said as he continued nodding in place until a hand on his middle back pushed him gently to the door. Grabbing the handle almost subconsciously, Jeffrey stepped through and out of the room.

As the door closed softly, a grand contrast from the loud snap of before, America leaned forward, resting his forehead onto the glossed wood. He didn't know if the difference between the two exits were a reality or simply his mind creating it, the dread of seeing the Russian making everything volatile. He eventually came to the conclusion that Russia just brought it all with him. That was the only reason he could agree on within his own inner debate.

He inhaled deeply, the smell of polish entering his lungs. "I'm an idiot." He whispered into the door, the only thing in the now quite room that could hear him.

/

"You actually sent him cereal?!" England exclaimed, completely bewildered at the American's actions. He knew the young nation was cocky, over confident, and often juvenile but to—no, he supposed he shouldn't be so surprised. He has witnessed America's less then fully thought-out ideas before yet, that didn't mean he couldn't question his sanity. "Are you mad?"

"Yes." Canada quickly answered from the round sitting table in the kitchen, never giving the American the chance to reply.

"Thanks, Matt." America said giving his brother the most sarcastic smile he could muster. "I mean, what was I thinking?" He hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Next thing you know I'll be making him my boyfriend."

"Cuba's not my boyfriend!" Canada interrupted, shooting up to a standing position, his hands slamming onto the table.

"Whoa, man…" America said, holding out his hands in front of himself in a sign of surrender. "No one mentioned anything about Cuba." He smiled despite shaking his head. "I think someone is being a little oversensitive here, don't you?" He pointed his thumb towards his brother as he glanced towards England, who was facing away from them. "There's no reason to be so defensive unless you know—

"Oh shut up, Alfred." Canada snarled, again not letting the American finish his undesirable rant. "You've been throwing jabs about him all day." He said also looking over at England for support.

England was, of course ignoring the argument between the two North American nations. Well, he was trying his hardest to at least. He was currently reading over the day's newspaper. He was looking down, his head resting upon the palm of his hand. He appeared to be very intrigued with all of the day's articles. Upon closer inspection anyone could have noticed that he had been on the same spot for the last 10 minutes.

"No, I haven't" America countered when the Canadian's backup did not arrive. "Maybe the guilt of your commie lover is just getting too much for you to handle."

Canada lets out an exasperated huff at the American's words and shook his head. The urge to grab the closest item and chunk it at the other nation's head was slowly rising within him; which so happened to be a fork. His only restraint was knowing that America was having a rollercoaster of a year and the year had just begun.

America had recently acknowledged Cuba's new government and it only added to his obsession. America was trying to get along with the Cuban but, he had his suspicions that he could not shake, and honestly Canada couldn't say he was wrong. It was bad enough that the excitement of having Alaska as his 49th state was overshadowed by his visitor.

"He's not my lover." Canada added before the American could believe he had won the argument. "But with all the sexual tension between you and Russia it's only about time before you two—

"What?!" America exclaimed at the outrageous allegation. Low blow. Canada was well aware.

"It's because of all of the eye sex."

"Matti, don't make me—

"Oh, for God's sakes." England groaned ripping through his coat of silence. With a swift motion, he folded the newspaper back together and stood, shoving the paper underneath his arm. "Would you two kindly shut your bloody mouths?" The two younger nations immediately silenced themselves, Canada retaking his seat. They knew that tone. There was something about that tone that made them slightly revert back to tiny nations. The key word was slightly as the two North Americans were trying their hardest not to roll their eyes at the elder nation, perhaps it reverts them back to teenagers.

America was prepared to open his mouth and retaliate. He was ready to shout out sound arguments of "He started it" until he was silenced once more by the sight of England struggling to walk. It was not that he appeared to be injured, not by any means. Instead, it was the way he bumped into his chair that was directly behind him right before bumping into the chair next to him. He was finally able to made it away from the dining table when he walked into the standing American.

Attempting to play off the misstep, England lightly padded the American's chest. England looked up at the taller man as he ignored the look of intrigued confusion. "Behave yourself." England said, pointing towards the American's face. He only received a silent smile in return.

Promptly turning around, he pointed his finger to the general vicinity of where Canada still sat at the table. "You too." Canada frowned, yet no real anger eluded. The two younger nations remained quiet as he made his way out of the room, not without first bumping right into the wall next to the door. Several curses were directed towards the evil wall that—"Came out of nowhere." before England was finally able to leave the room.

The two North American nations stared blankly at the door, directly where the European once stood. "Okay…"Canada exclaimed once he broke his focus and turned to his brother.

"Maybe he got jealous?"America shrugged rather smugly.

"Oh yeah…" The Canadian said, his voice dripping with false enthusiasm. "That must have been it." He sighed and rested his head on his palm when his brother nodded in agreement.

"I am very much enjoying the ice cream." Russia exclaimed with childlike flurries in his eyes as he licked his lips and the remaining bits on the white plastic spoon.

America contained himself as much as he could from simultaneously rolling his eyes and gagging. He couldn't say he was having a terrible time, but he in no way was going to admit that being with Russia was anything more than cringe worthy. He had his American pride to uphold—or regain after the embarrassing incident in his office a couple days ago.

"It is quite good, yes?" Russia asked a factory worker wearing a denim blue jumper.

The man laughed at the question, finding it all very amusing. "Aren't you cold?" The man asked as he denied a taste of the vanilla flavored ice cream.

"Nyet, reminds me of my summers." Russia smiled, taking in another spoonful. The man laughed at the Russian's joke, drawing a crowd of those nearby. They surrounded the tall nation as he continued to talk about all range of topics. Meanwhile, America stood a few feet away, his arms crossed and his ears beginning to fume.

He wished his citizens would just go away, that they would quit crowding around like they actually wanted to hear what the Russian had to say. He really wished they would stop giving him weird stares.

Russia at least seemed to be having a nice time. It was going well enough that he no longer had to visit the American's office. It was an agreement. America had to keep Russia entertained and in returned Russia would stop traumatizing the employees. A win/win situation.

One of the things the Russian insisted on doing was going around and visiting—speaking to the American people. America hesitantly agreed after a grueling session of persuasion, which consisted of Russia having a staring contest with him until he gave in. It was long and torturous 60 seconds.

Now, the American stood in his own factory standing on the sidelines with a pout on his face, secretly crying out for attention like the outcast in school watching the quarterback surrounded by his peers. 'Damn you, citizens. No, I'm playing, please love me.' was written all over his face as he began biting his lip, his glower still remaining.

"When it is calm and peaceful we can all go out for ice cream, yes?" Russia asked the crowed, who smiled, nodded, and some replied back with a "yes" or "sounds great."

America failed to hold in the loud groan and click of the tongue with that particular comment. So now, when all the eyes finally turned to him with a deafening silence that was brought upon the formerly lively room, it felt unwelcomed. The nation could feel his face flush; knowing that a rose glow was slowly creeping its way through his pores. He wished he could back away into a dark corner where he could hide within its shadows and disappear.

His eyes locked onto the Russian's after no longer being able to withstand returning the glaze of his citizens. The tall Russian stood hunched, never moving from his previous position. He blinked several times as he stared back. After a few more seconds of an incredibly long awkward moment of silence, Russia tilted his head like a confused kitten. "Everybody like peace, Mr. Jones." He said, his soft voice somehow now sounded like that of a hurt child.

Despite never removing his eyes away from the taller nation, America could feel the hurt, confusion and anger being cast at him from all angles. He could feel the heavy pressure weighing down upon him. He knew he had to say something. To say anything that would placate the currently emotional crowd. So, with a smile he thought of his best weapon. His charms.

"Of course they do!" America exclaimed, letting out a laugh. "It's just—" he began making his way over to the Russian with a skip in his step. "It's just that I don't know anyone that likes waiting for ice cream." He said, lacing a seemly friendly hand on Russia's arm." Right?" he asked looking up at the taller nation.

Standing up to his full impressive height, Russia turned to the man he had initially offered the cold treat to. The man looked up at him, the face of contentment temporarily gone as the situation soured. Saying nothing to this man, Russia, turned back to his fellow nation and smiled. "Da!"

"So you took them all out for ice cream?" England's voice echoed from the kitchen as he closed the freezer door. He turned up his lip in disappointment and shuffled his way to the living room where America sat watching a loud television program.

"Yeah." He replied with a shrug. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Not have made an arse of yourself for one." England said, reaching for the American's shoulder.

"Gee, thanks." America said, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "I am glad that Russia played along though." He finished, before facing the hand that was gently placed on him. Narrowing his forehead in confusion, he looked up the owner of the slender hand.

"Alfred, love." America cocked a brow. "Be a dear and buy me some fish." America scoffed, rolled his eyes, and let out an exasperated sigh at the unquestionable amount of wisdom given by the older nation.—so much for some words of advice.

"No." He shook his head. "This is your war not mine. You go buy your own fish." He continued, receiving a solemn look. "You know what?" he asked rhetorically, England's expression remaining ever the same. "You should literally use your own fish, quit eating mine."

"Oh, you can't be serious." England hastily removed his hand off the American's shoulder, crossing his arms instead. "You want me to export my own fish to where you can pick them up—just so I can eat them."

"Of course not." America shook his head again slowly. "That still sounds like entirely too much work for me." He smirked, a pointy tooth making a slight appearance at the tip of his upper lip. "Find a way to export them directly to yourself."

"Fine." England puffed, making his way to the front door of the house. "I'll get my own bloody fish." He exclaimed before swiftly opening the door and leaving with a slam.

"Damn it." America mumbled to himself as he watched the Brit storm out of the house. The last thing he needed was an angry Englishman roaming around lost in the streets (because he will get lost) shouting about fish. His neighbors thought he was absurdly weird as it was; his current mental state in no way helping their opinions on what seemed to be a young man. Sure they were polite, some even looked to genuinely like him enough to invite him to barbeques and birthday parties but, deep down America felt that they knew he was different.

Groaning, he finally decided that going after England would be the best option. As he peered out the door he had just opened, he was relieved to see that England was still visible in the distance. America could catch up to him easily. He didn't seem to being walking with that much speed and America's long legs could move him along quickly. Knowing that it was still important to move fast, America rushed inside to grab his keys and two coats. England was upset enough to storm out without any protection from the winter weather.

As he suspected, Mrs. Potter from two doors down was following him with her eyes as he sped down the sidewalk to reach his "little English friend". She always managed to cock an eyebrow whenever she spoke of England. She liked to bring him up at random points in their conversations as well, especially during times when their travel gaps were long. Yup, definitely knew there was something going on there.

"Arthur!" America shouted, fog seeping from his mouth as he got only a few feet behind the Brit—that was clearly ignoring him. "Arthur, wait." America again tempted to grab his attention, but England simply began to speed up. "Arthur, come on." America said, also beginning to take longer strides. "I know you're cold." England paused by less than a second as he looked down at his crossed arms; perhaps he was a little cold. "Art, you're not even going the right way." America said almost running in to the Brit when he finally stopped in his tracks.

England groaned to himself lightly as he felt his own coat being draped over shoulders. He growled louder once he felt the warmed of the wool engulf him. Yet, he still refused to turn around and face the younger nation.

"Arthur—"

"Perhaps I'll just leave then." England said, interrupting the other nation's words. "I should just go home."

"No, don't do that." America said, stopping himself from draping his arm around the shorter nation to bring him into a hug from behind. He didn't want those passing by to question them and jump into what was probably the right conclusion. So, instead, he settled for placing a hand on England's shoulder. "I don't want you to go." He could hear the Brit exhale. "I need you to stay."

England remained silent as he stood, glancing up at the clouded skies. It was beautiful day, cold but, the sun was poking out and calling for attention. "Will you buy me fish?" He asked with a smirk, knowing that America was smiling despite not being able to see him.

"Well, fine, I suppose I can stay for a little while longer." England puffed with a playful roll of the eyes.

"Good." America said quietly with a smile and a slight nod of the head, content with the outcome.

They then proceeded to stand by each other awkwardly, not knowing what step should be taken next. Their eyes shifted in between each other and the ground as surrounding sounds echoed around them. The roaring of passing cars and the cries of children playing nearby being the primary source of noise as America began fidgeting in a battle against fatigue. "Was I really going the wrong way?" England said, bringing the attention back onto him.

"No." America said with an immense grin creeping onto his face and eyes that glistened with joy as the Brit's cheeks puffed up in embarrassed anger.

"Prat." England proclaimed, turning away from the American and continuing on in his course to the nearest grocery store. He became increasingly worried when he began hearing the other laughing behind him. Instead of paying any mind to the immature super power, he keep his back turned and his legs moving, all until he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, baby." America said through his teeth in between chuckles. "I'm just playing." England wrinkled his forehead in confusion as the America turned him around, "You're not even close." America further snorted as he began gently pushing the Brit in the opposite direction, as the Brit's face became redder then before.

"Bollocks."

"I have a feeling that you providing me with all these sweets is your means of seducing me."

"Hm?" America asked, being knocked out of his current stupor. He had managed to somehow find a way to completely come up with a strategy of defense in case of a surprise attack during his walk. He blinked multiple times, grateful that he hadn't bummed into anything or anyone during his thoughts, apparently his subconscious was working with him. Glancing up towards the Russian nation that had been ironically walking besides him the whole time, America noticed the ice cream cone that the tall nation held in his hands. "Oh."American shrugged. "Is it working?"

"I would say slightly, da." Russia answered happily, licking a few rainbow sprinkles off the top.

"Oh—kay, that's…weird." America didn't need to know that.

"I'm also enjoying these." Russia paused from his snack in order to lift up his arm, his free hand holding a plastic bag filled with several food cans inside.

"Ah, right." America widened his eyes in irritated disbelief. "Look, Russia." America said, causing the taller nation to smile a reply in between his spoonful of strawberry ice cream. "I'm actually not having a completely horrible time with you." America fidgeted with a cringe. "Even though admitting that makes me want to jump off a cliff." He said mostly to himself in a loud whisper. This didn't stop the Russian from listening in with a lip inching up towards his ears in a one-sided smirk.

"But, I think we should get back to business." America looked up at the taller nation, waiting for a response. He knew it was either going to be a murderous threat hidden behind false contentment or a murderous threat out in the open. At this point he wasn't sure which he would prefer. "Wouldn't you agree that eventually something has to be talked about?" he paused as the Russian looked like he was thinking over his words. A variation of the threat had yet to be given but he could never count it out as a possibility.

Just as the blonde was going to open his mouth again, no doubt spewing reason why getting back to work was the best option, Russia hummed. "But we were taking care of business just a few months ago." Russia finally stated, looking down at America's not so amusing expression.

The younger nation knew too well where he was going with that. The soviet was clearing speaking about the amazing meeting they had just this past November, the very meeting where Russia had presented the grand ultimatum of either to move out of Berlin or to move out of Berlin. America, England and France not agreeing to such a deal was an understatement but they remained strong about their stance. Just as America had said, they were doing it together. There was safety in numbers and America was sure the Russian knew this.

The meeting and ultimatum was what America wanted to eventually discuss with the Russian, ever since he first landed on the states. Up until now nothing of the sorts had been mentioned and America's patience was running thin. He had to bring it up before he burst with a brigade of firework and punches, probably a few cops and England shaking his head on the sidelines.

"Right," America shook his head after a moment of quiet breathing. "And I think that's one of the things we should probably talk about."

"Oh?"

The young nation continued his breathing exercises inconspicuously as the Russian continued to play his game of innocence. "Yes, how about we go to my office?" he suggested, pointing to the direction of the building. "You haven't been there again in a while." He smiled, while internally thanking the freedom gods for that.

"Da." The soviet said, agreeing.

/

"Jeffery!" The shout echoed throughout the hallways filling the otherwise silent atmosphere as the two nations made their way to America's office. This was America's favorite office and often used it when he didn't want to deal with the hustle and bustle of the White House. He also knew that he only became productive in the art of procrastination if he tried to use his office at home.

America always liked having a limited staff on the premises, finding no need to have so many helping him out. One of those employees was Jeffery, who worked like a personal assistant. He was young man, eager to help out his nation. One of the very few who happened to know America's true identity. It was this knowledge that led the young man's face to convert from a look of content to one of distress when he stepped out into the hallway to greet the nation. Still slightly and/or greatly traumatized by his past interaction with the Russian, Jeffery strained his face into a smile as to not make his nervousness obvious. However, with much appreciation, America dismissed him for the rest of day. Maybe he should bring some cookies and Coca Cola to his nation once this was all over. That could really help him reach that raise.

"Alright, come this way." America led the way to his office that he made sure to tidy up before today. He couldn't have any secrets spill out, now could he? "Sit down." He gestured towards the cushioned brown chair placed in front of his desk. Making his way around to the other side, he waited until the Russian took a seat before taking his own. "So, the ultimatum…"

"Da?"

"As mind blowing as it is…" Russia smirked at the sarcasm being thrown at him. "We obviously haven't and won't agree to it." America intertwined his fingers over his desk as he waited for the Russian to respond back in a way other than the slight nodding that he was doing. "You have to know that." He continued.

"Do you ever think that perhaps, you three are hard to please?" Russia asked intertwining his own fingers over the desk, mirroring the man in front of him.

"That's because you are horrible at making deals."

"I care to differ."

"Agree to disagree." America said through gritted teeth. This meeting was proving to be harder to handle then he had anticipated. He figured that after the past few successful days that this would be easier to get through. He was apparently wrong. On the bright side, the urge to leap across the desk and strangle the soviet was not overpowering and urgent. A sense of control was all that mattered in times like these.

"That seems to be the best conclusion." Russia wiggled his still intertwined fingers. "However, I do have a suggestion. You are interested in hearing it, yes?"

"Huh, do you?" A one-sided smirk landed on the American's lips as he subconsciously leaned closer. "Go on."

"Berlin, together," American nodded, liking the idea thus far. "And free..." America lifted his chin slightly, waiting for the Russian's finals words. "Under the east."

"Of course." America said in a harsh exhale. "What was I thinking?" the younger nation asked, one of his hands coming up to rub the side of his face, suddenly feeling a rush of tiredness sweep over him. "Is that all you can come up with?"He looked directly at the expressionless face. "All you Reds just think the same, don't you?" he asked rhetorically, remembering China's proposal regarding the unification of Korea several years earlier.

"Agree to disagree." Russia responded simply with a smile.

/

England flinched violently, the hairs on his arms rising as he immediately began to mentally and physically prepare himself to pounce into action. The dip in weight on the mattress and the arm around his waist had wakened him up from his slumber with a start. The room was dark and otherwise silent but that didn't stop him from beginning to leap off the bed. "It's me." He heard breaking through the veil. With much relief, his heartbeat and breath slowed at the familiar voice.

The Brit turned to the alarm clock on the small table next to the bed, barely being able to make out the 1:00am the arms pointed to. Sighing, he slowly lowered himself to the warmth the blankets provided. "You're late." He said, settling down into a comfortable position, slightly leaning into the body behind him.

"Hm." America hummed in agreement, digging his face into the Brit's messy blonde hair. He made it home much later then he was hoping.

"How'd it go?" England asked, lowering his voice into a whisper, speaking at a normal volume seemed unnecessary at this time of night.

England waited for a response while finding the small tail of light seeping through the curtained window to be quite fascinating. He eventually frowned at the lengthy pause, believing the American to be asleep. Now, he was left awake, the sleep being sweep away at his alarming jolt earlier.

"Russia holds a hard bargain." America finally replied, his voice vibrating the Brit's strands.

"That bad?" England asked, shifted onto his back, in the attempts to view the younger man's face.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that." America said into the Brit's temple.

"Well, then?" England's patience was beginning to run thin. He knew the American was planning to bring up the conversation about the ultimatum today. So, he had waited the entire day for any news. When he noticed that the day had come and gone without any word or an appearance from the American, he had come to terms that he would not be able to find out the outcome until morning. However, now that he was awake in the middle of the night, he couldn't think of waiting further.

"He dropped it." America said simply, the older man gaining a look of confusion as he again shifted his position, this time turning over to directly face the younger nation.

"He dropped it." America repeated. "He dropped the ultimatum completely." He grinned, his teeth shinning despite the dimness of the room.

"Are you serious?" England asked in disbelief. He wasn't expecting good new after his day of worriment.

"Yeah." America chuckled lightly, cupping the Englishman's face in his hand. "Why wouldn't I be?" His grin continued.

"I don't know," England paused. "It's just that—

"I know." America interrupted the words the Brit was struggling to get out. "Hey, man." He moved his arm to once again wrap around England's waist. "I'm not going to question it."

"No, I suppose not." England said softly, turning around to face away from the other nation, with his first smile of the day.

"I told you we'd do this together." America said, his voice completely drenched with drowsiness as his body was slowly succumbing to sleep. His tiring day was finally beginning to take its tow.

"Yes, yes you did." England agreed, gently rubbing the arm that curled comfortably around him. Closing his own eyes, he too surrendered to sleep once more, smile two on his face as he did so.

"Why are we here again?" Canada asked, leaning heavily on the arm of the couch, as he watched his brother move from one side of the room to the other. On the upside, at least he was pacing from excitement and not paranoia.

"Because you are my brother." America promptly stopped walking to point at the Canadian. "And you are my lover."

"Don't call me that." England frowned deeply as America turned to point at him next, the request obviously being ignored as he continued on. "And you are…"America paused, his words stuck. "And you are –France." He finally let out. The Frenchman smiled.

"And…" Canada asked exasperated at the long winded response.

Pausing from politely returning the France's smile, America turned to his brother and grinned widely. "And you guys get to witness, first hand, my greatness." He exclaimed with a pompous hand on his chest and a shut of the eyes.

The three nations nestled on the couch verbally groaned and rolled their eyes. The American either missed the display, too excited to notice or simply decided to ignore it. "It's going to be amazing." America said, plopping himself on the already crowded couch, wiggling his way in between the Brit and the Frenchman.

"Really?" England asked about the American stuffing himself in between as he placed one of his heavy arms around the Brit's shoulders.

"Yeah." America replied, clearly missing the point of the question. Turning around to his left, America smiled at France before settling himself completely and before turning his attention to the television. "This will be part of history." America says proudly, a glimmer in his eyes twinkling.

"Everything is part of history."

"Don't be jaded, Art." America replied to the Brit's melancholy response, shaking his shoulder lightly. England growled like a cat.

"It is rather exciting, Amérique." France said encouraging the younger man.

"I know, right?" America exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around the Frenchmen's shoulder. It was quite a strange sight to see. It earning looks from even France himself. Glancing up to face England and Canada on the opposite side of America, France just shrugged and settled in his seat surprisingly not taking advantage of the situation with his French ways.

"And I can't wait to see the astronauts." America grinned. "Isn't that cool?" he asked shaking his companions, zealous enough to reach over to grab a hold of the Canadian's shoulder. "Astronaut…" He repeated the word majestically, his eyes glancing up beyond the ceiling. "So much better than spacemen." He said making a disgruntled face. "Astronaut just sounds so much more professional." He continued, sitting up straighter in order to go along with his words subconsciously. "I can't wait to find out who gets picked. A lot of them were good." America got up and walked over to the TV, turning the volume up. He wanted to make sure he didn't miss anything once the announcements started.

This was the day he would finally prove to the Soviet just how much he was winning the space race. Russia could send up as many satellites as he wanted into space but, once America achieved to get people to visit the skies, then anything else would see like nothing.

"Wait." Canada spoke up once America finished messing with the TV and was just watching the commercial on screen as he stood. "You mean you don't know who it's going to be?"

"Nope." America replied with a hop. "I did meet them. They're all test pilots. I was there during the exams and practice but I wanted to be surprised about the final picks."He said making his way back to his fellow nations, wedging his way into the space he previously inhabited. "Knowing everything before everyone else isn't fun all the time."

"I rather like it." England spoke out, grabbing the attention of the rest.

"That's because you're controlling." America replied, the Brit not taking the words too kindly. The two French speaking nations on the other hand, adorned smiles.

"I am not." England said, earning him a few laughs and giggles from those around him. Ah, a thing that the American, Frenchman, and Canadian could agree on. England's denial, of course continued despite the fact that he knew full well that he did maybe, just maybe have a slight controlling streak. It's just one of those things that come naturally as an extra bonus when you become an empire. So, the damned frog could shut his mouth promptly. His former colonies would be forgiven in due time, however.

"Anyways…" America wouldn't let the attention be taken away from him for too long. Not today. Besides, the broadcast was just about to begin. As the man in charge of the project stepped on screen-a man America had had a pleasure working with-America leaned forward in his seat waiting for the announcement. His heart and hand trembled with excitement. He loved doing this as much as he could or as much as they would allow him to. Just sitting and waiting, waiting with this overwhelming anticipation like the rest of citizens. This, this ability to feel what his citizens felt at the exact same time made him feel the most close to them. It made him feel connected, equal.

"Good choice." America exclaimed at one of the names announced. "I liked that Buzz guy. He seemed like a cool cat. Buzz sounds like a great astronaut name, doesn't it?" America asked. He never received a reply, yet he paid it no mind. He was too intrigued with the rest of the programming. If the rest of the nations wanted to be perfectly honest, they'd admit to being engrossed with it as well. This was the start of something huge for everyone. England sighed quietly, knowing that his general demeanor today came from the realization that with his current economic status the closest way he had of competing was to climb up a tall ladder. As he turned to the beaming American, England was hit by yet another realization and bitter thought. 'This bastard isn't even 200 years old.' Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

"You say that like its important." America stated with boredom from his work desk. He sat slouched over, his palm holding up his head on the wooden furniture. Looking down at him was his faithful assistant who was currently wishing that his boss and country would take things a bit more seriously then it appeared that he was.

"Don't be daft." An English accent rang. America turned a smile to the Englishman sitting on a chair by the right wall of his office. He sat cross-legged, mixing a cup of tea in his hands with a small silver spoon. "I apologize on his behalf, Jeffery." England said as he tapped the spoon on the teacup lightly before placing the utensil on a napkin that was set down on a small coffee table beside him.

"Thank you, Mr. Kirkland." The assistant said, sending a polite nod to British representative.

"Geez—" Shaking his head, America leaned back into his chair, his arms resting behind his head.

"They said they need an opinion by the end of the day." Jeffery mentioned. America's boss and his advisors were surprisingly giving their country a longer time than usual before they made a decision with or without his opinion or approval.

"Uh-huh, I got it." America dismissed, never taking his sights off the white carved ceiling. His assistant uncertain of what to do next stood awkwardly in the office his own eyes glancing towards his shoes.

"Jeffery, dear." The assistant's head pivoted quickly at the sound of his name. "If it's not too much trouble, do you mind finding me a few biscuits to accompany my tea?"

"Sure." Jeffery nodded happily as he rushed through the door. "That's cookies, right?" he asked, his head poking back into the office leaving a humorous and bizarre appearance of a disembodied head. Receiving a nod of approval from the Brit, he again slipped out on his search of sweets.

Releasing a snorkeled laugh, America again sat up properly in his chair. "I think he likes you." He said stretching his arms.

"Of course he does." England replied lifting up his cup and saucer into his hand. "I treat him with respect." He took a sip.

"Please." America snorted.

"Jealous?" England smirked.

"Hardly." America leaned onto his palm. "No need, baby." He winked, earning himself a snort in return. "Besides, I think you remind him of his grandma.

"Isn't that quaint?" England replied, showing no signs of being offended by the American's comments at all. America smiled at his own defeat. Only England would enjoy being compared to somebody's grandmother.

Quietness then enveloped the room while England placed his tea back on the table, the china making a quiet chime when hitting the wood. Looking back, America had closed his eyes, looking like he was in much need for a nap. "You're mad if you think you aren't doing this." The Brit said, no longer being able to stay silent about the topic at hand. It surprised him that the information was given to the American while he remained in the room. As all government official business goes, secrecy is a default. Often times, news would be given either through phone in a different room or when given in person they had the nation temporarily step out.

"No, I know." America sighed, opening his eyes and lifting his head. "I'm going to do it. I'm not really left with much of a choice anyways, one way or another." America said, finally giving sharing some of his thoughts on the situation. "But twice in a year?" he groaned into his hand, England looked upon the younger nation with sympathy.

America already had to deal with the arrival of Russia earlier this year. It was unexpected and left him unprepared. Despite the visit not going horrible, the American didn't feel the need to tempt fate. Truthfully, he knew it was a good idea but, he didn't want to have to deal with the soviet nation again. It seemed like too much, too soon. Unfortunately, it was likely going to happen. The Russian had recently commented on his desire to visit America, which left the nation with little to no choice but to formally invite him to come.

"I don't envy you, love."

"Not about this anyways." America smiled at England's scrunched lips.

"Shut your mouth, boy." The younger nation laughed just as his assistant made it back into the room, a plate full of cookies in his hands.

"This is all I could find." Jeffery stated as he shuffled over to the Brit. "We don't have anything fancy here." He continued, setting the dish on the coffee table. America rolled his eyes. Traitor.

"Thank you, you are too kind." England placed a comforting hand on to the assistant's arm. "Don't worry about it. They're perfect, darling."

"Oh, well, you're welcome." Jeffery said, again returning to his post of awkward standing, now with a grin.

"Good grief." America said under his breath. If England spoke to him like that he'd swoon too and he was the one going out with him. "Jeffery." This time, the assistant's head turned to his own nation.

"Sir?"

"Call the White House. Tell Eisenhower I said to send the invite."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." He nodded and rushed out, happy that his job today would be easy and not filled with hours of begging his boss and nation for an answer. He really hated when the White House yelled at him.

Sighing as he watched the door come to a proper close, the American looked over to the Brit who was taking a bite of shortbread. "Why don't you ever call me darling?"

"Oh, don't you start."

America laughed. "I love you too, sweetheart."

/

"Mr. America, you have come to see me in." Russia said as he noticed America waiting for him as he stepped out of the airport. "How different from the last time, da?" he continued smugly, reminding the American about his earlier visit and the less than hospitable treatment he received. The case would be different this time around as this was an official visit. An invite and acceptance was given all within two week several months ago.

America chuckled apprehensively. "Ha—ha, yes…Ah, I brought you some ice cream." He said, holding up a shopping bag which held cartons of the dairy dessert.

"Splendid, my favorite." Russia took the bag joyfully.

"There are two in there."

"Thank you, little America." America gritted his teeth. The amount of distain he held for each and every time the Russian called him "little America" was immense. He should receive a medal for the most improved when it came to his temper and controlling his urges to strangle. He believed that he had made quite a feat compared to a few years ago.

"You're welcome." He replied through his teeth. "What kind of host would I be if I didn't come, huh?" he said as he turned away and began walking towards his car that was waiting for them patiently in the same place he had parked it. He refused to have anyone drive him, preferring to do things himself. Going through the steps of entertaining the soviet nation and having the closest thing they could to a diplomatic discussion. Glancing over his shoulder, he was glad that the Russian had gotten the clue to follow him. He didn't want the awkward situation of having to grab the visitor while explaining why he was abandoned.

"So...is there anything you want to do first?" America asked as they reached the Cadillac, Russia eyeing the car with a sort of distasteful snare. America held his tongue at the sight, instead deciding to ignore the sentiment and proceeded in opening the driver's side door with a rattle of his keys.

Quickly switching his expression to his signature façade, Russia glanced up right before the American made his way inside the vehicle. Hearing the lock to his door click, he swiftly opened it and made his way inside as well. After settling himself his beige leathered seat, he beamed. "I would like to visit Disneyland."

America's face fell. Any mention of visiting the land of fantasy and adventure usually had the young nation jumping out of his seat but, it was much different this time around. "Uh, yeah…no can do there, champ." He said letting the news out as gently as he possibly could in efforts to avoid an angry Russian.

"Eh?" Russia asked with a perplexed look. "I believe you asked me what I would like to do, da?" he asked for confirmation.

America licked his lips as he turned the key to the ignition. "I did, but—"

"And that is what I would enjoy doing." The Russian interrupted. "I wish to see 'the happiest place on Earth.'"

"I do too." The younger nation exclaimed, the roar of the running engine filling the car. "I would love to." He laughed. "You know I love it there and would love to show you, really." He scratched his arm. "It's just I can't. Security issues and all." He shrugged.

"Security issues?"

"Yeah, I—it's just that we can't promise your safety there so, no can do." He said, staring at the soviet's face for an indication of any emotion. The moment became a short staring contest as the Russian stayed silent for a moment before nodded. America's lip slowly lifted upwards, happy that the older nation understood.

"Do you believe that a group of many of your citizens will ambush me?" America's brows narrowed. "That I will get lost?" Russia's eyes widened in false revelation. "Or perhaps you have hidden missiles within the confines of the amusement park?"

"...What?"

"It must be combination of the three, da?" He nodded his again, the host nation not finding the right words to say. "That must be the reason for my first request to be so quickly refused. To think I believed this would bring good memories."

"Russia, that's not—

"Well, little America if that happens to be the case I will consider continuing this visit on my own." America was left flabbergasted as the tall Russian promptly opened the door and stepped out of the black car. Blinking out of his stupor, America shouted out to Russia who simply ignored his cry, slamming the door shut instead.

"Wait!" America yelled in vain, the Russian could no longer hear him as he sat in the still running car. "This isn't happening." He said to himself as he held his head in his hands. "It can't be happening...this can't be happening!" He thrashed about, the steering wheel being the victim of several blows. "Great—great! The damn war is going start over Mickey Mouse!" He continued shouting to himself before calming. "Okay…" he inhaled and exhaled deeply while patting his cheeks, attempting a self pep talk. "I can do this." He said just before taking a few more relaxing breathes followed by thrashing around one more time. Stopping his mini tantrum, he let out a groan, turned the engine off and climbed out of the car.

"Russia!" he shouted, receiving weird looks from civilizations walking around the large park lot. "Damn it." He whispered to himself as he began jogging toward the taller man who had managed to walk quite a distance away. "Russia." He called out again at a normal volume once he reached the taller man. This time making sure that he did not cause a stir. "Wait." He grabbed the other man's coated elbow. "Look, this wasn't my decision, okay?" he only received a blank stare. "If it was up to me I'd be like, sure, let's go. Let's ride some rides. That's more fun than…" he raised and dropped his arms quickly. "This." America watched on hoping for some sort of response but, the Russian remained unchanged. America still couldn't help internally laughing when he noticed the plastic bag filled with ice cream cartons in the Russian's hands. "Come on. I have an idea of something fun we can do, yeah?" he finished, pulling out his charm.

"Very well." Russia voiced at last, nodding his head and walking back to the car without another word.

/

"So, you're…enjoying yourself?" America whispered; stealing a glance at the Russian who was intently staring straight ahead at the stage presented in front of them.

"I…am." The soviet replied in an equally soft voice, not wanting to distract the actors who performed their lines on the set. Blinking, not removing his eyes from the performance he grabbed a spoonful of strawberry ice cream, scooping it into his mouth with a satisfied smile. "His voice is very good." He commented, the dairy treat plumping up his cheek as he spoke.

"Definitely." The American nodded. "I think I heard that they were going to work on a dancing part next so, that should be great."

"Hm." Russia hummed.

America amused by the level of enthusiasm the Russian was displaying over witnessing the shooting covered his mouth to help suppress the chuckle he wanted to release. He was fortunate that he was able to bring the Russian over to the movie set for a visit. The soviet had truly liked being introduced to the actors, the very Frank Sinatra included. He would be incredibly lucky if this were to completely erase the earlier fiasco from the other nation's mind. If not, that's why he made sure to make this visit as different as he could from the previous. He had plans to hold them for days, now only the Russian continued to enjoy them.

/

"Can you believe that my holiday is towards its end, Mr. America?" Russia asked as the two nations sat comfortably on the plush chairs inside the American's private office. There were just a couple of days left of the red nation's visit and naturally these days would be filled with the boring business aspect that the trip was going to eventually led to.

"Can't say I do." America took a sip of his coffee.

However, unlike any other business meeting that the stubborn nations had with each other, this one was surprisingly well. The whole experience had been what they could both consider a success. Despite some missteps such as the Disney fiasco and Russia's general want for some "me" time, the week had gone extremely well. They were entertained and getting along professionally. Neither would be willing to define it as anything other than professional, never being able to admit anything that seemed like they actually enjoyed each other's company. Either way, they were able to make strides that could never be imagined up until then.

The ultimatum that once hung over their heads, caused much grief, and served as a reminder of an invisible dotted line that stretched across Berlin was forgotten. Instead of counting the hours before they didn't have to see each, they were planning their next meeting. Yes, a summit would take place the following year they agreed. It would not only be for the two, no, it would include England and France as well. It had been quite a while since their last official summit where they could discuss the various issues they were facing. This summit could lead to many good outcomes if the conclusion to this meeting was any indication.

The most unexpected result was the agreement to respect each other's privacy. Neither where idiots, they both knew full well that covert missions for information were going on. Planes flying over head of each other's countries trying to gather as much as they could. The shocker came when the parties mutually agreed to stop the flyovers.

Thus, when America said that he could not believe the end of the visit was coming, what he truly meant was that he did not believe it had happened at all.

A/N:

1. Let's start with something fun. The Beatnik subculture was a big thing during the later 50's, early 60's. It was a subculture of anti-conformist with their own fashion, music, and slang. The stereotype was wearing tight black pants, black turtle necks, berets, black sunglasses, and played the bongos. (Hipsters of the day, perhaps.)

2. On August 17, 1959 the album "Kind of Blue" was released. It is described by many music writers to not only Miles Davis' best-selling album, but the best-selling jazz record of all time, going quadruple platinum.

3. On January 2, 1959 The Soviet Union launched the Luna 1 spacecraft. It was the first to break free of the Earth's gravitational pull and reach the vicinity of the moon.

4. (a) Two days later on January 4, 1959 Anastas Mikoyan, the Khrushchev's number two man landed in New York for a holiday. It was the first time such a high rank visited the US. It was a surprise for everyone, leaving the US government unprepared. His main purpose was to spread peace by going to different locations and speaking to the American people. He went over well with the people.

(b) Mikoyan presented the change to the ultimatum of "Berlin free under East" which really changed nothing at all. By the end of the visit the ultimatum was dropped all together.

5. It was known that Khrushchev had been impressed with American can food, cereal and ice cream.

6. Alaska because the 49th state on January 3, 1959. I didn't mention but Hawaii became the 50th state on August 21, 1959.

7. In 1959 Fidel Castro took over the Cuban Government after his band of guerilla soldiers overthrew President Batista. The US did quickly recognize the new regime. Castro visited with Vice President Nixon in March 1959.

8. On January 29, 1959 England and Wales were covered by such a dense fog that it left many parts in a standstill. London was the most affected. (Thus, the reason that England bumped into that pesky wall.)

9. Yes, the Cod Wars are still going on between Britain and Iceland. Also, this scene made me want to write about America's neighbors and what they think of him, especially Mrs. Potter. Also, we all know England is the master of getting lost.

10. On April 9, 1959 NASA held a press conference to introduce the 7 men would fly the first manned mission, among them Buzz Aldrin. At this time term spacemen was changed to astronauts.

11. "England sighed quietly, knowing that his general demeanor today came from the realization that with his current economic status the closest way he had of competing was to climb up a tall ladder." This was an Eddie Izzard reference. If you don't know him, please look him up he's a hilarious British comedian.

12. (a) On July 7, 1959 Khrushchev states that he would like to visit the US. On July 10, the US sends of an official invite, July 22 Khrushchev accepts. He comes over on September 15, 1959.

(b) Hearing that Disneyland is a must stop for tourist, Khrushchev gets upset and makes a scene when they refuse to let him and his family enter due to security issues. They believed that they would not be able to keep proper security for them while they were in the park. He was quoted saying "And I say, I would very much like to go and see Disneyland. But then, we cannot guarantee your security, they say. Then what must I do? Commit suicide? What is it? Is there an epidemic of cholera there or something? Or have gangsters taken hold of the place that can destroy me?"

(c) Khrushchev was able to visit other locations including a tour of the Twentieth Century Fox Studios in Hollywood. He was taken to the sound stage for the movie "Can-Can" and was able to meet the cast of the film, including Shirley MacLaine and Frank Sinatra. Khrushchev stood while the cast members performed a number from the film. He liked it very much.

(d) The trip as a whole went surprisingly well. Khrushchev and Eisenhower had in general gotten along, agreed to no more flyovers and agreed to have a summit the following year to further discuss peace.

13. I made an OC, Jeffery, America's assistant. He wasn't supposed to be in it as much as he was but, I kind of like him and the thought of him having some sort of man crush on England seemed hilariously charming.