So, here's the first chapter of my multi-chapter fic that I hope to complete by Valentine's Day (a.k.a. Single's Awareness Day). Whelp, here we go!

Italics means thoughts

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and never, sadly, will.

Chapter 1: Only the Beginning

The press of his lips on hers was warm and welcoming. Even in his drunken state, he'd lost none of his ability to leave a girl breathless with his kisses. He tasted like booze and those awful hamburgers he was constantly eating, but also something sweet and intoxicating.

Despite her mind pulling away, her body pulled forward, pressing flush against the man's hard, tone frame. She pushed her hands through his thick, dirty-blonde hair, wrapping her fingers around those silken strands. With her new leverage, she pulled him even closer to her, crushing their mouths together. Her skin was feverish, aching for simple skin to skin contact.

The contact this man provided lit molten rivers of pleasure in places she barely knew existed before then. Sure, she'd had other men, and even women, plenty of times before, but it'd never been like this. This was new and exciting. He was so much warmer than what she was used to.

A small moan escaped her mouth.

With that noise, she was thrust clear into reality. Her body was hyper sensitive against the man's. She could feel every place her body pressed to his, the mountains and valleys and plains of his muscles, the uncomfortable heat building between her thighs as she straddled his lap, the press of him against her soft flesh through his military pants, the man's hands slipping up the back of her neck and into her hair.

Gasping, Belarus shoved away from America, scrambling away from him. She dove behind the couch, dropping her burning face into her knees. Her heart beat a painful staccato rhythm against her ribs. "What was that? Why did he do that?" she mumbled miserably, "He's just drunk. Yeah, that's it. He'll have forgotten it by tomorrow's meeting." She tried excruciatingly hard to convince herself, though her logical mind was having none of it.

Little did she know that just on the other side of the room of drunken, singing, groping, emotional countries, America still sat, a thick rosy blush decorating his cheeks. He wasn't as drunk as Belarus was trying to convince herself that he was. He was sober enough that he'd remember every detail the morning after.

…..

Belarus stared sulkily down at her papers, not really seeing the words that were typed there. She snuggled deeper into her fur coat, trying to shut out the cold that she'd never before had a problem with. After the fiasco at his house the night before, Germany had decided that they'd move the meeting to her place. Why he didn't move it to somewhere closer, she had no clue? Her home was still in a winter cold spell. Snow was still piling along sidewalks and lakes were still frozen enough to skate on.

The meeting was wearing on and on. Germany had taken over hours ago, deciding it'd be easier to get things done if he was calling the shots. It was, but he still dragged the meeting out because of all the fighting that was constantly going on.

Unintentionally, she glanced up towards were America seemed to be in a heated debate with thin air. She knew that he was arguing with his twin, but she just couldn't see him. As if on cue, Canada shimmered slightly into view, spouting insults at his brother. She watched the exchange with indifference, her eyes half-lidded with boredom.

As if sensing her stare, America's sky blue eyes flickered to her, locking with her dark, almost navy, blue eyes that seemed to be undecided on whether they wanted to mix with ash grey or purple. Heat flashed across her face, and she dropped her eyes back to her notes.

Instantly, she began scolding herself. "What are you doing? It's obvious he doesn't remember anything. Don't act like something happened. He'll just figure it out!" Her inner lecture was quickly interrupted by her siblings leaning in towards her.

"Belarus, are you alright? Your face is red," Russia asked in Russian, concern entering his voice despite how she scared the ever living darkness out of him.

"Yes, you haven't caught a cold have you, little sister?" Ukraine asked, leaning over to press their foreheads together.

Belarus pushed the big-breasted woman away from her. "I'm fine. Stop treating me like a child." All of the irritation she felt, not only at her siblings, but at the situation that stupid America had put her in and simply because of something happening this week, came out in her words, making them harsh and curt.

The pair flinch, just the slightest bit, and looked at each other over her head. "What day is it?" Ukraine asked.

"The 12th," Russia replied. The same pained looked crossed the siblings' faces. They knew what that meant. Without saying anything else, they sat back in their chairs.

'Yeah, that's right,' Belarus thought bitterly, glaring hard at her hands resting on her lap, 'Stay away from the girl with bad luck. We all remember what happened last year on Valentine's Day.' It'd be a hard thing to forget by any means. It wasn't every day that your bad luck almost gets your brother smashed by a falling tree. Belarus squeezed her fingers together hard. Maybe if she broke them her bad luck would leave her alone this year. 'Not. Likely.'

"But why?" America whined, slamming his hand down on the table, "We never have the meetings at my place! Plus, it's much warmer than here."

"Don't lie! It's just as cold in New York as it is here!" Canada shouted at him, irritation and anger making him visible for the whole group to see.

"Not in Florida!" America retaliated.

"We're not moving the meeting!" Germany shouted over the bickering.

"Why?" Once again, America unnecessarily slammed his hand down on the table. It groaned ominously. If he hit it one more time with that much strength behind it, he'd break the table.

Belarus glared daggers at him. "If you break my table, I'll break your neck," she snarled. Immediately, his hands were removed from the table.

"It's too much of an inconvenience," Germany explained in a calmly strained voice, "We will stay in Belarus to finish the meeting. We will not move unless extraneous circumstances require us to move. Until then, we stay here."

America was silent, watching Germany. "And if we have to move, we'll take the meeting to my place." It wasn't a question.

Germany threw his hands up in exasperation, bringing his hands palms down on the table. "Yes. Fine. Will that make you shut up?"

"Yes, happily," America replied cheekily, sliding back into his chair with a satisfied smile. Canada shot daggers at him, sliding back into his own seat.

"Now, about this issue…" Germany didn't get to finish his statement because the moment he lifted his hands from the table, it collapsed with a groan. Papers became air-born, fluttering around them. As the papers settled, there was a flash and a dagger imbedded itself in the wooden beam just behind Germany, a piece of papers written in Finish caught beneath.

The room went silent. Slowly, all eyes turned to Belarus. Her chair had fallen with the speed of her stand. Her face was dark with emotion, the aura around her brighter than usual. Her arm was still out, and her wrist was still twisted from when she'd flung the knife. "This meeting is over. Tomorrow, we are moving this meeting to the U.S.," she said with such finality that no one had the balls to challenge her, "Now get out of my meeting room."

…..

"Why ice skating?" Lithuania asked Belarus a little over and hour later. They glided smoothly across the frozen surface of the lake turning in lazy circles. He had his hand in hers pulling her along easily. He seemed to be the only one who was comfortable with her at the moment.

Belarus sighed loudly, bring her foot in just a bit to turn in a tighter circle. "Because last time we went to a bar, that bar was burned down," she explained. She could still remember having to rush from the building because the curtains had caught fire and started spreading before they'd realized what was happening. It had actually been Prussia's fault thinking he could juggle flaming balls. Obviously, he'd been wrong.

Lithuania nodded, watching the other nations attempting to learn to skate around them. Canada whizzed passed them, completely content on ice. "And the lake?"

"The ice rink closest to here got shut down because of renovation," she replied, her eyes unconsciously following America's movements.

"I thought it was because they found a dead body in the ice."

"That was after they started the renovations."

"Ah."

They lapsed into comfortable silence, moving slowly around the outside of the groups. They passed Italy hanging onto Germany's hands, his legs splayed out uncomfortably. "Let's move closer into the middle," Belarus suggested, pulling on the other's hand and tightening her circles. She weaved between the nearly stagnant individuals, sliding neatly under raised arms and making split second turns to avoid a falling nation. She was breathing hard, her cheeks red and her eyes alight with adrenaline, by the time she pulled Lithuania to a stop in the middle. She'd managed to take them through the crowd three or four times. Lithuania was breathing hard as well, bent over with his hands on his knees.

The pair jumped as a voice came from behind them. "Hey, Toris, dude, can I talk to you for a moment?" America asked, coming around in front of them. He was trying to keep his eyes off of Belarus, but it was hard. The memory of the night before just kept flashing across his mind's eye. He wondered if she remembered too. Heat rushed up the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

Lithuania looked between Belarus, whose face had gone redder than when they'd stopped, to America, whose eyes kept darting to the indifferent female. "Uh, sure," he agreed.

"Dinner is served!" France called from one of the shores. He waved the other countries over, placing his hands on his hips. Beside him, England reclined on a bench, watching the proceedings. Evidently, he hadn't been allowed to help make the food.

Immediately, the other nations began moving towards him. "Hey, Toris, let's go eat!" Poland called happily in the other male's ear, sliding up and latching onto his arm. He started dragging his away against Lithuania's half-hearted protests.

America and Belarus stood there watching the couple move away. "Are you going to come?" he asked, jerking his head towards the shore, and grinning at her.

Her only reply was a wave of her hand. She needed time to think and this seemed like the only time she'd get for a while. Slowly, she made a lazy circle around him, letting it slowly grow.

America watched her progress wishing he knew what she was thinking. In the end, he just moved away towards the others. He needed to talk to a couple of them anyway. He'd never admit it to anyone, but the hero needed help.

Belarus spun to a stop, spraying ice to her side. She stood in the middle of the lake, watching everyone yelling and having fun over food. She watched as even her brother, scary to many of the other countries, giggled happily, ruffling America's hair affectionately. That's when she heard the cracking, low and loud.

Eyes growing wide, Belarus glanced down at the ice beneath her feet. There, right underneath her, was a huge, ugly crack growing with every passing second. Fear spiked through her. Adrenaline poured into her bloodstream, making her heart pump that much faster.

Experimentally pushing one of her feet forward towards an untouched slab of ice, her stomach knotted as the crack grew towards where she'd set her weight. "Brother," she said quietly, definitely not loud enough for any of the others to hear her, but they didn't have to hear her, they heard the cracking instead.

When the first sound of cracking came to them, the group went quiet, testing to see if they heard it again. When it didn't return immediately, they returned to their food and conversations. It was only until Russia and Ukraine snapped their heads up in concern that everyone really heard it. The deep rumble that they'd all heard at least once in their long lives. Every head snapped towards the lake.

"Belarus!" Russia, Ukraine and America cried, jumping to their feet. The entire group rushed towards the edge of the ice, hesitant to embark on the journey to save the stranded nation.

America placed his foot on the ice, testing it. Luckily, it held. He started onto the ice, stopping as the cracks grew louder. His eyes darted to Belarus, checking on her. Her normally carefully composed face was twisted in fear.

"Brother!" she called louder, still staring at the ice. All around her, the cracks were spreading, becoming an intricate spider web around her. The ice would not hold much longer, and she couldn't run for it. It would break as soon as she moved.

'Why is this happening?' she wondered, fear tingeing even her thoughts. 'The ice should not be melting for another month and a half. It's too cold!' she thought frantically, but she knew that wasn't going to save her.

"Belarus, hold on! I'm coming to get you right now," America called, shuffling faster across the ice.

Belarus glanced away from the ice towards the man coming towards her slowly. Hope curled in her chest, trying to choke out the fear, but deep down, she knew he wouldn't be able to reach her in time. She turned her eyes back to the ice just in time to see it crack one last time. "Alfred!" she screeched as she was submerged in the Artic cold water.

…..

"Is she alright?" someone asked above her. Her body was freezing and stiff. Her breath came out harsh and hoarse like she'd been coughing the entire night without drinking anything. Warm breath fanned across her face, and warm skin was pressed to her normally cold skin. It felt so good, and… so familiar. Struggling, she tried to open her eyes.

"Shh, be quiet. She's coming around," someone else whispered.

Belarus coughed hard, her breath wheezing out between her clenched teeth. Forcing her eyes open, she was confronted with the sight of America's and Russia's faces first. She flicked her eyes around them, noticing the others standing in a semi-tight circle around the scene.

"Little sister, are you alright?" Ukraine asked, sitting on her knees in front of her. It was then that she noticed the tight hold America's arms had around her. He was shuddering from the cold just as hard as she was, a thick wool blanket wrapped around them.

Against the protests around her, she pulled herself into a sitting position. Her hair was soaked, already starting to form ice crystals. Her clothes weren't any better. Cocking her head slightly, she stared at the dress she'd been wearing now sitting just inside the circle. She was only in the underdress she'd been wearing. America wasn't in much better shape, only in his boxers and dog tags. She glared at him, her face reddening.

"Don't blame me, I was told that we had to get your body temp up and this was the only way," he replied, holding his hands up in defense.

With that, she turned her glare on Russia. He pulled China in front of him, hiding unsuccessfully behind the smaller man.

Ignoring the freezing temperature of her body and her see through underdress, she pushed herself to her feet. "I'm going home," she said curtly, turning from the others, snatching up her dress and hurrying away towards where everyone had parked their cars.

"Wait, Belarus," America called, scrambling to his feet and hurrying after her.

"Don't talk to me," she snapped, her face burning with embarrassment. Why was he the one who saved her? More importantly, why did the ice have to break at all? She didn't look back at him as she yanked her car door open, and crammed herself into it.

America was silent for a moment, running his hand through his wet hair. He clutched the blanket around his bare shoulder. He caught her door before she could slam it shut in his face. "You'll be in New York tomorrow right?"

She didn't look at him. She didn't think she could look him straight in the face ever again. "Yeah, sure."

Sighing, he pulled the blanket from his shoulders and threw it around Belarus'. Without saying anything more, he closed her door and started back towards the others. He stood tall and strong, the muscles in his back rippling as he jumped on his brother. Belarus looked away quickly, her cheeks burning as she started her car.

Well, yeah, there you go. Belarus' first accident and only one of many to come. I feel kind of bad with all the things I'll be doing to her, but oh well. It's all for the sake of the writing experience *snort* Yeah, sure, just keep telling yourself that Sapphire. People are really going to believe you xD Anyway, feed the review monster or something extremely bad may happen to Belarus in the next chapter.