Author's note: Forgive me, this is my first time writing for this pairing... I was cold this morning and nothing could warm me up, and I started mentally writing it out, and AmeRus/RusAme/whatever needs more fluffy stuff, so...

Enjoy this incredibly short piece of fluff n' stuff!

Cold.

It's inescapable-it's in my bone, in my veins, my blood, my heart.

It has frozen every bit of me, turning my skin to ice and my breath to fog. I can be wrapped in blankets and lying next to a roaring fire, but I will not feel it.

My sister once gave me a scarf to keep me warm. I wear it every day, hoping one day it will have the desired effect. I know it never will, though.

A scarf cannot protect me from the cold inside of me.

Centuries pass. Nations rise and fall. Leaders reign, abuse, and are dethroned, and more and more scars deface my body. But I have not changed. I remain like this-

Frozen, in both skin and spirit.

It has always been like this.

Always.

Until recently, I have masked it with a sadistic smile and twisted threats sung with a cheerful lilt. It was rare that anyone saw me without them-the times when I was nothing but a savage.

I fear I am reaching my breaking point-the moments of pure rage and frustration are steadily growing closer together.

I worry that soon I will dissolve to madness.

I lay in the snow, staring at a spot in the sky a ways away. The snow felt soft beneath me, like a comforting blanket. I have learned long ago to block out the coldness of the terrain of my homeland.

This scene was as familiar to me as breathing. The strange part was that I could hear footsteps.

"…Rus?"

I blinked, then looked up at the man now standing over me.

America's blond hair was dusted with a snowy powder, and his glasses were fogged near the bottom. Frost mapped out crystalline patterns on the glass, and the frames themselves must have been frozen to his nose. He was flushed from the cold, and his breath turned to soft clouds in the air. His blue eyes shone with a mixture I found quite odd-fear, worry, and something I was unfamiliar with.

The younger nation sat down next to me. "You missed the meeting today… are you okay?"

"You will go away now, da?"

"Rus…"

This was a side of him I had never witnessed before. He wasn't yelling, or trying to order everyone around. He was just… being.

"Why would you care, Amerika?"

"Because… I care about you."

I barely had time to process the words before an arm was slipped between my back and the snow.

"I love you…" America breathed, lifting my torso so I was nose to nose with him. Then he kissed me sweetly.

I immediately kissed back, wrapping my arms around his neck. He shivered, and I knew that I was the cause.

Yet neither backed away.

A feeling spread through me-starting in my lips, then every place he touched, and then traveled into my bones.

It coursed through my blood, then reached my heart. My heart propelled it to the rest of my body, spreading it through my limbs.

It took me a moment to identify it, but when I did, the feeling became tinted with euphoria.

Warmth.

As I grew warmer, Alfred grew cooler, until we reached some sort of halfway point. We had yet to break the kiss, his lips moving perfectly in time with mine.

Even when we had to pull apart for air, the feeling remained.

The warmth from knowing that somehow, some way, there was someone in your life who loved you.