I finally got us to the start of WWII! There is some swearing in this chapter, but only a tiny bit. Happy Canada Day and have a great Fourth of July!

Also, if anyone wants to be my editor for this, that would be super helpful.

Here is a long chapter for being so patient!

Most people will never remember the first time they opened their newly formed eyes and looked around, see everything new for the first time. Humans can imagine it, thinking to themselves of what the world would look like through new eyes, but they can't even come close to the reality. Adults forgot what new looked like, but new looked like everything, like wonder and promises of being real.

New took life by the hand as fresh eyes swept, as new lungs got used to air, as the world began to take a shape and people wonder how it was all possible. There was nothing, and suddenly, everything was right there for them to touch and see. And in that sense, everything was beautiful. They had no opinions but their own first impression of being, and to eyes that have seen nothing, just sight is beautiful.

In the year 1607, a new life was waking up as boats churned the water and men shouted about land, but it wasn't on the land to await them, and it wasn't on the boats.

Eyes opened, unknowingly mirroring the blurred color far above the child who did not yet know he was a child or what he was at all. He just was just as the blurry world around him and the stinging in his eyes just was. He knew no better than to think this the natural state of being, and he marveled at the strange brightness above him which was caught and thrown across the clear space with small air bubbles or green wisps.

The setting in its entirety was slowly being built up in his mind, and he looked away from the glistening above him which could be the highest point in the universe for all he knew. It seemed so far...

But it did not bother him. He was neutral party in this strange place.

There was a pressure on him, and he struggled, limbs emerging from the light brown stuff that covered the entire area at the lowest point as far as he could see and was dotted with green or strange rocks that even his new mind somehow identified as not belonging. When he moved his new body, there was pressure pushing against him. And his surroundings were cool but not cold.

He was curious but content in this new place until beautiful creatures rushed past, smaller than him and catching the light, most grey but some every color. He opened his mouth and bubbles floated out. He grinned, because every move revealed something completely new and gorgeous. Bubbles floating up, up, up!

Then, things weren't so fun. Slowly, pressure inside of him began to build as if his new body was collapsing. He didn't understand, and he stilled, hoping the feeling would simply go away.

Then, everything changed. On the surface of what the boy didn't know enough to call the ocean, the boats hit the shore, and people poured out from them. His people. His people and their adventurous spirits, bravery to cross the sea, all their hope and all their fighting spirit.

It slammed into the child like a rubber band had snapped back in his mind after being stretched. Fight! He suddenly believed that of course he could reach that high point he saw. He could make it with all the strength his people gave him. He thrashed and clawed as comprehension made him who he was.

There was a force tugging at him, his land, he realized, and there was a grand name that he wasn't yet. The name was in front of him, maybe where the shimmering was, but that name was his name, and he would become it. All this he knew the way birds knew to fly away in the winter and bears knew to chow down before the snow fell.

He went up like the bubbles, and suddenly, there was freedom from the burning and the pressure. The world seemed so much larger as if he had swam up from a tunnel into a large dome. Air! He would never forget the feeling of air for the first time, and how air made everything so much sharper than water did. He vowed in that moment that he would always claw to go higher, because moving up felt so good.

And he realized another think. That hadn't been easy at all, and it wasn't easy to stay above the water. His tiny body naturally floated, but he still swung his limbs around just in case. Life wasn't going to be easy, but that was okay, because he had made it, and life was so worth it.

He tried to move up more and quickly learned that he couldn't move in air like he could in water. The waves pushed him towards the shore, and he felt at home when he heard one of the men further away on the shore yell, "I declare this place Jamestown!"

The young nation was born from the Chesapeake Bay Impact Crater, more specifically, the pieces of meteor on the seafloor. From the moment he arrived, he had to fight to reclaim what was his. It may have been a stroke of luck that he made it, or it may have been an indication of what kind of spirit his people would have.

Either way, the path to becoming America was set in place.

He grew up spoiled. He knew it. He was the favorite, the shining star, the pride of England's colonies, and his confidence soared with each praise of his adoptive father. America learned the ways of Europe and what was called the Civilized world as fast as he could, and it wasn't long before he craved more.

America broke free of his own shelter, his little bubble of a large estate, little work, and anything he could possibly want but freedom and power, and he thought the fight was over, but the fight was never over.

But life as a nation was a fight in many ways, and it was also a life of adventure and time, and it was worth living.

He went through life fast and with wonder, and he barely ever stood down. America lived in the present and the future. He felt the pull of his dreams so intensely that it was hard to sit still, and no matter how much more he learned, there were still things hidden from him. Sometimes, he found those things by hard work, and other times, he stumbled upon things that were...just so amazing.

That was how he met Russia.

America was just fascinated right away. He didn't know much about the tall nation in a warm coat and scarf yet hands like ice, so he ran his own investigation, and before he knew it, he was all the more interested.

Years went by, and friendship developed steadily. Russia was the perfect companion for America as he grew into the role of a powerful nation. Russia didn't ask things of him, didn't try to push him forward or hold him back. He just walked with the younger nation, and it was so nice. He gave advice when asked, and he was endlessly sturdy and endlessly surprised.

America delighted in the attention the colder nation gave him. Every little thing he did naturally seemed shocking to the older man. America gave Russia as many smiles as he could even after his well exercised cheek muscles began to ache, because he could tell Russia didn't get enough of those from the other nations, and in return, Russia's quiet happiness made America feel like his dream of flight could somehow be achieved without an airplane.

But it wasn't all fun and games. Nothing was simple with nations, and the American Civil War hit, then the first World War, and then the Communist Revolution and the first Red Scare.

Yet, all of that mixed into cement, and it was the build up to a study foundation for America and Russia to stand on together in that blissful time between World War One and World War Two.

1932

America stood to the side of the dance floor and watched other nations dance in old, traditional ways he had never bothered to learn. America loved to dance, but he liked faster music than what was wafting through the ball room. Every now and then, the nations would get together in what their bosses called bonding time. It was England's turn to host that, and America had to admit, his father figure had done a great job in his own way.

The room nearly glistened just as the bubbly drinks the staff handed out on silver platters. It was fancy and grand in a way that made America feel as if he had fallen through the pages of a story book into a king's castle. The nations who had had or still had monarchies enjoyed it. They fell back into old customs easily like slipping into an old pair of pajamas.

He hummed quietly as he watched Hungary and Austria glide over the dance floor. They never missed a beat. The steps must have forever been ingrained it their muscles. There was no hesitation, just grace.

America was much more suited to old barnyards and country jigs, the streets of New York and jazz to punk rock, crowds of screaming with people more jumping than dancing, or even bars where the drinks could make any song sound good. But he was content to see others happy, and there were some decent snacks. The bonding time was alright by his standards.

He caught violet eyes across the room and smiled, hiding it behind his glass as he took a sip of sweet cider. USSR walked over with his usual grace. USSR sometimes seemed to float across the ground, which was funny considering what a large man he was, all muscle, height, and that small bit of chub that America found cute and practical. Chub helped someone survive cold winters, and USSR could be damn cold when the storms hit.

USSR walked over and stood stiffly before the smaller man. He was nervous. America could see it in his twitching fingers and the way he sometimes gave the end of his scarf a little tug, but USSR's voice was smooth. Stuttering did not suit a nation of pride and power. "One would think a young bachelor like you would be dancing already."

America laughed easily. "An eligible bachelor, maybe, but who is to say if I'm in the game?" He leaned closer to USSR playfully, ignoring how the room started to electrify. Talking to USSR was a game of wit and humor sometimes, and other times, it was candy sweet or filled with passionate declarations against each other, but no matter what, it made America full to bursting with emotion. "I'm not sure I want to dance."

Yet, America set his glass down, ready to be convinced onto the dance floor. It wouldn't take much convincing. He was obviously just playing, but USSR didn't fail to play along. "Such a pity. I would have liked to dance with you." He leaned in close. America nearly vibrated in anticipation. He knew what came next. USSR's voice dropped to a careful whispered. "Alfred, we could put the other dancers to shame."

America shivered in delight. He loved hearing his name on USSR's lips like a carefully guarded blessing. He leaned in close to USSR's ear and admitted. "You'll have to teach me, Ivan."

Then, he had a strong arm around his waist and all the adoration in those deep tinted eyes.

"Then, you must try and keep up with the lesson." USSR's gloved hand took America's bare one. His black gloves wouldn't have fit in the ballroom the way USSR's white ones did. They complimented his black suit well. Alfred had gone with a white suit that day, but his gloves were worn in a way that would have stood out against the new fabric. America's hand was on top, and he shook his head.

"Nope. No way. I am not dancing in the woman's position.", he protested even as he walked with USSR onto the dance floor. USSR chuckled and drew him close. A hand was placed oh so gently on America's hip.

"You do not know the steps, so you cannot lead. America, patience. You will learn, and then, may the best dancer win, but for now, you leading would be stupid.", USSR explained simply, and there was a spark of humor and victory in him that made America feel competitive. If USSR could ballroom dance, than America was sure he could too. He vowed to learn fast and be the best dancer ever! Then, he could lead!

Yet, just following the steps was hard. There were far too many of them, and every time America stumbled, he couldn't help but clutch USSR's hand a bit tighter, and he ended up a tad closer until the two men were sharing air. It was hard to focus feeling USSR's breath tickle his cheek as he whispered numbers that were supposed to have something to do with the steps.

USSR was an amazing dancer. In comparison, America looked like a newborn deer trying to sprint with a mountain lion. He just kept getting distracted. He wondered who had taught USSR the steps and how long ago it was. He blushed as he marveled at the grace his dancing partner so easy displayed, and that thought brought about the question of if they were partners in another sense. It all made his head fuzzy.

USSR hissed when his toes were nearly crushed as America rushed to complete a step and instead stomped on his foot. America winced in sympathy and gave a sheepish smile. "Whoops?"

USSR gave him a weak glare before sighing. "I could have sworn you were a good dancer. You looked so coordinated with the ladies that night when I drove you home." America laughed through a flash of warmth on his cheeks and replied, "I am pretty good at that type of dancing, huh? This is very different. The music is too slow." He looked down at his feet to make sure he didn't step on USSR's foot again.

"You should enjoy the slow moments. They are peaceful.", USSR stated. He tutted in playful disapproval. America laughed, and the night went on with gentle touches and small steps.

But America did begin to enjoy the way they could move slow yet with passion, and he didn't mind the soothing violin as long as USSR swayed to it.

It started the night of the ball. America had been lulled into a state of such relaxation as they swayed together that by the end of the night, he was nearly asleep leaning against USSR, and USSR walked him outside to get a cab. As they waited for one to pass by, America was struck by dread at the thought of an empty hotel room. The empty space could swallow him whole. He was sure of it.

Along with the dread came the inspiration to shake the sinking feeling in his chest as the hairs on his arms stood up and mist tried to climb higher off the ground to make the night seem to hold a thousand spirits. "Ivan, you should come with me."

They ended up falling asleep in each others arms that night. Alfred had never felt so at home an ocean away from his place. He breathed in Ivan's fresh scent of blankness, the air after a snowstorm, a tint of mint, and the smell of a room that held a Christmas tree just a few days ago and probably had pine needles still stuck to the carpet.

And after spending time like that, he couldn't go back to staying alone away from home. It would have been cruel to expect that of him and to expect that of Ivan, and it was like a wall had been knocked down.

They began to travel together, to go to world meeting locations a few days early and explore. Dates came informally such as hikes, wrestling matches and the occasional "Hey, this looks fun. Let's go." But they were undeniably dates complete with kisses and hand holding. Wonder-filled gazes. Alfred's loud laughter and Ivan's quiet contentment and small gestures of care. Spine tingling sweetness and heart pounding love viruses with no cure.

Human names flowed until they were normal, and to each other, they were more often Alfred and Ivan than Russia or USSR and America. Soon enough, they only called each other by country titles at meetings and around other nations. It was the normal relationship all nations craved and never seemed to get, and it made Alfred feel like he was in that wonderful state of freefall just before pulling a parachute.

Ivan was more hesitant. He warned that good things didn't just come without a price, that the world wasn't always the gate of opportunity Alfred saw, and they already had their problems. Nightmares left them shaking in each other's arms in the early morning, flashbacks hit, militant measures of safety never died, and the guns under their pillows were there to stay.

But things were better. Waking up to another person there to take comfort from was better than lying awake and questioning everything until the sun rose. Some nights were hard, and some were just so easy.

It was at the end of an easy night. Alfred was still asleep, curled up the way Ivan had come to expect. The American had been happy before bed. They were in the States as the depression began to fade. Alfred gushed about his new president John F. Kennedy who was leading him to "a new frontier."

Ivan was just glad his boyfriend no longer looked like he was tired every day and struggling to keep up with life. That wasn't like Alfred. Even in disaster, Alfred's smile needed to exist, and his hope needed to bud, or else the world would prove to be the one Ivan protected himself against and not the one Alfred rushed into with childish rashness.

Ivan was content to be quiet and lay in bed for the moment. His country was doing well just as Alfred's even as rumors of war started. The communists were fouled by the hope of their new image of what the world could be like. They were motivated to show the world. Ivan couldn't wait until everyone saw the fruits of his hard work in coming up with an entire new system of government.

Steel production rose quickly. USSR caught up to the rest of the world in technology swiftly with hard work. He oversaw everything with a pleased smile. Literature flourished. It really was a new culture.

It would put the American experiment to shame, Ivan challenged to his partner often and received that confident smirk he loved so much and a carefree laugh in response along with the worlds "It's good to have wild dreams."

Ivan felt how Alfred often felt for the first time in a long time. He lived in the present and the future. In the sense of how different he was at that moment, he was a young, reborn nation. His dreams tugged at his heart, and the world was filled with potential. He didn't agree with the rest of the world, and he was eager to prove them wrong and that even included the sleeping man next to him.

One didn't have to agree with their partner on everything to love them, but things would be easier if Alfred saw the glory of a new era where everyone was truly equal.

As Ivan began to daze watching the blankets around Alfred's chest rise and fall, blue eyes woke with the sky. A smile formed on soft lips that Ivan could dream up from memory by that point for nights when he was alone in his study. At the moment, he didn't have to, and he greeted Alfred with a kiss that was as calm and soothing as the sunlight slowly stretching through the window.

Alfred responded lazily, but he quickly woke up more completely and leaned into his partner. Ivan hummed happily at the warmth, and Alfred let out a content sigh when they broke apart. When Ivan stared at the glistening blue and the blinding white contrasting with earth skin kissed by sunlight, he had to ask, "What are you from?"

He watched as Alfred's sleepy mind processed the question, his eyebrows that he thankfully didn't get from his father nation drew closer together before he shrugged and replied, "Virginia. I started off with Jamestown."

Ivan shook his head. "Let me tell you a story, Fredka.", he whispered as he rubbed Alfred's shoulder which was peeking out from his red tank top.

"Even though I like fairytales, don't you dare start it with something corny."

"Alfred?"

"Yup?"

"Shut up."

Ivan laughed at the soft swat his shoulder got as Alfred heeded his request to quiet down but could not resist showing he wasn't to be ordered around.

"My sister told it like this. In the middle of a large expanse of white, there was an icicle that hung over a lake which sparkled and let the snow dance on its surface. She would often sit on the lake and wish not to be alone. She had this feeling that she was listened too, and she was less cold with the light reflecting off the ice."

Ivan checked to see if he had Alfred's attention. The American's eyes were closed, and his mouth was curved up into a soft smile unlike his wide grin. It had a dreamier quality. Ivan kissed his forehead and whispered, "Can you see it?" He received a nod in response and a small kick to the outside of his leg, Alfred's impatient way of asking for the story to continue.

"There was a tree next to that lake, and on that tree, there was an icicle which was steadily melting. It created a puddle on the lake that somehow did not freeze back to ice. As my sister watched, it formed a small child, me. Therefore, she got the company she had asked for. So I was born from ice.", Ivan finished.

Alfred's eyes snapped open with a familiar spark. "You're wrong, silly. You were born from water, melted ice that gives life and glistens in a welcoming way, just as beautiful as shimmering ice, but not as cold. Got it?" He stared the larger man down the way Ivan loved, with determination. Ivan had stopped being shocked by the boldness even when Alfred sometimes tackled him or asked to spar.

Ivan neglected to answer the question. Instead, he asked one of his own. "What were you born from?"

Alfred looked away and sighed heavily. Ivan was instantly concerned. He pulled the smaller male close and was rewarded with a small smile. "You'll think I'm a freak.", the now nervous man said. He met Ivan's gaze and cupped his cheek. When Ivan just held him and gave support, Alfred groaned. He had enough words. Sometimes what he needed was Ivan's silent support that was just there. Always there, not forcing him in a certain direction like others tried to, not asking for anything, not cursing or judging him. He had to give in when confronted with such sweetness.

"I'm born from the sky, or more accurately, a piece of space that sucked at staying in space. I woke up in the Chesapeake Bay Impact Crater under water, and I thrashed my way from the sand to the surface." Alfred laughed and pressed a hand to his own lips. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think it suits me. Doesn't it?"

There was an uncertainty that Ivan was learning wasn't as uncommon in Alfred as he'd first thought. There were many pieces to the American personification, and he hid the ones with doubt and fear under the most colorful and bright. With Alfred's eyes fixed on Ivan's and his hands nervously fiddling with the covers, Ivan knew he had to say the right thing, and with Alfred, the right thing was often just being honest.

"I am dating a piece of the sky." He said slowly and watched Alfred nod, learning forward as if he could miss Ivan's reaction. Pale hands pushed back dirty blond strands of soft, messy hair. "It makes sense. You are so strange." He laughed and kissed Alfred's forehead. "Perfect." He breathed out softly.

Alfred laughed and rubbed his cheeks as if he could wipe off the blush. "Liar." he accused with a smirk. "No one is perfect. But hey, I'm damn close, and you, are right there with me. You're awesome. Pretty, strong, supportive. Damn... Are you trying to spoil me?" He pointed a finger in fake blame.

Ivan smirked and rolled onto Alfred, making sure not to squish him too much. "You've found me out."

"You commies, there's always an alternate motive." Alfred laid back, completely relaxed in his partner's arms.

Ivan rolled his eyes. "That's more like a capitalist. You would do anything for money and power. Wouldn't you? Is that why you catch older nation's eyes? Are you a..." He held back a laugh. "A golddigger?" The term was relatively new American slang, and it felt strange and informal on his tongue.

It didn't suit Alfred who was still mostly in isolation. He would make his own money and fix himself, thank you very much. Ivan would never waste time on a nation with no shame and no strength who begged for money and protection like the weak ones he saw staring at his sunflower.

Alfred huffed with amusement shining in his eyes. "You betcha! Where's my diamonds, daddy? Better yet, where's my oil?" He raised an eyebrow in expectation, and Ivan's heart swelled with fondness as good humor filled the space between them. "When the world is communist, I will spoil you with world contentment." he vowed seriously.

Alfred's smile dimmed. His sunflower did not kept believe in Ivan's dream for the future. That was okay. He would see soon enough. Ivan anticipated the days where he would be able to tease Alfred over his disbelief, days when everyone was equal and war and class struggles were things of the past.

"I have an idea!" Alfred announced. "Let's see who is most genuine, the communist or the hero capitalist?" His expression turned hopeful like a child asking for a cookie. "How do you really feel about me?"

And Ivan- Ivan's heart nearly stopped, because he knew what he was supposed to say. It had been so long since they'd switched from friendship to something else, so long since the first time Alfred made his heart pound. It was time for that vow of words and hearts, and Alfred was someone who liked verbal confirmation.

Yet, love between nations was a dangerous thing. It could be turned into hatred at one declaration of war, at one disagreement. I love you's would then sting like old scars reopened, and everything would hurt more. Ivan knew this from the past. He assumed Alfred did not. His hesitation made the air seemed thick, and quickly, he decided to say "You know already."

And boy, was that the wrong answer.

Ivan was thrown off his partner. He rolled off the bed and fell to the floor with a undignified yelp. He quickly sat up, eyes wide, and met Alfred's equally surprised gaze. Ivan felt his heart sink. Alfred had a much better hold on his nation strength now. He only messed up with strong emotion, and as Alfred's eyes narrowed, it was very clear those strong emotions were hurt and anger.

"Get out of my room." Alfred said in near hiss that chilled Ivan. Usually, Alfred's voice made him feel warm.

Ivan quickly stood up. "Sunflower-" he started and was cut off instantly.

"Don't call me that! Don't call me any sweet names if you're leading me on, if you can't commit! I don't know what kind of delicate flower I am if you think I'm just going to be content following you around without my love being returned!" Alfred looked one slight insult away from tears. He had clearly expected the declaration of love, but he had gotten avoidance, and it cut him deep.

Ivan reverted back to old defenses. He was nervous, and old habits died hard, so he cloaked himself in anger. "Then, why didn't you say you love me? It goes both ways!"

Alfred laughed bitterly. "Goes both ways? Which one of us introduced themselves first, took the other's hand first, kissed first, invited over first? I know you're more cautious, and I want to make you comfortable, but you can't have me without some work!"

The American took a deep breath and clenched and unclenched his fists a few times. He closed his eyes and thought of what he wanted to say. When he spoke, his voice was steady.

"It takes work for my citizens, the people I literally live for, to reach the best of what I have to offer, the American dream. It doesn't come nicely gift wrapped and sent to their new home's front steps. It takes work, sweat, hard hours, strong minds, and never letting a chance slip through their fingers, and here I am, asking for you to put the smallest amount of work to get me. I should be worth a slight risk to you! God forbid you take a risk!

Angry tears rained from two circle skies and rushed down tan skin, leaving little rivers. Ivan felt like he was watching a castle he'd build crumble. He had worked on this relationship even if not in the same way Alfred had. Ivan may not have given the firsts as in the first hand hold or the first kiss, but he had stayed by Alfred's side. He had even been there in the American Civil War when no one else aided the warring nation.

Panic seized him at the thought of no longer being welcomed to hug Alfred, to chat with him about life, to lay under the stars and send their dreams through words up to the stars, to not wake up to excited eyes and sometimes the smell of coffee.

He reached out fast and snatched Alfred's hands. "I love you." And just like that, the tension left his partner. Ivan sighed in relief and kissed away hot tears. "Why would you ever think otherwise? I am not leading you on, my star."

Alfred was quiet for a long moment as he looked down at their entwined hands. "People say you have a history, a bad history when it comes to romance. I know that's true. I know I'm not your first choice. You wanted China, who has a similar ideology as you. Then, you wanted Lithuania, who was your first friend, and that didn't work out, so you decided to take a shot with the new kid."

Ivan couldn't help it. He laughed. His laughter rolled over the room, sweeping away the rest of his tension. "Settled for you?" The idea was ridiculous. No one could "settle" for Alfred.

"Da, you've found me out. I settled for my intellectual equal in the sciences, for the only person that has dreamed of uprooting the old world with a whole new system like I am dreaming of now and succeeded. For the one who built the largest railroad, who invented the lightbulb, the telephone, and the airplane. Of course, I am settling for the young warrior who has beaten not one, not two, but three empires, two which in a war he fought mostly alone. You've caught me settling for the one with bright eyes and a body like-"

"That's enough!" Alfred said quickly. His entire face was bright red like he'd been out in a storm with winds assaulting him. His eyes were wide, but there was a grin on his lips.

Alfred leaned in and kissed him, and he whispered against the larger man's lips. "I love you."

Ivan was surprised by how good three words could make him feel, and he understood and shared Alfred's craving for them completely from that point on.

July 1939

Ivan always liked the summer. The snow melted, the flowers bloomed, and the days were longer and more pleasant. Alfred always hosted a huge party in America for the Fourth of July and then took a week off of work. It was in that week that Ivan had invited the American to the USSR.

It had become a tradition now going on for five years. That wasn't very long by country standards, but everything had to start somewhere. It was strange to Ivan that he could have such a peaceful moment. The two nations were outside with the grass tickling their exposed skin. They had been goofing around most of the day.

While Japan and China raged against each other and China was steadily losing ground to his little brother, Ivan walked through fields of flowers with his partner's hand holding his tight, racing around as if they could see all the wonders of the earth in just a day if they made haste, stealing kisses in between adventures.

While England juggled appeasement to avoid another world war, Alfred rested peacefully against Ivan's side. As Ivan ran his fingers through his boyfriend's hair and smiled, he marveled at the fact that they were both powerful enough to take a step back, to stay out of the drama and enjoy peace. Who would dare be foolish enough to attack the USSR or the USA?

He looked outside. The night was still as it should be to his eyes, yet to his senses, something unsettling was happening. Alfred rolled over in his sleep with a small frown as if he too sensed something.

Ivan kissed his forehead and whispered that he was safe until Alfred settled down. As nice as it would be to have backup if there was an enemy around, Ivan didn't like to jump to conclusions, and while he knew his partner to be strong, it was everyone's instinct to keep their loved ones out of possible danger.

He stood up and reached under his pillow. He pulled out his pistol and slipped it into his night robe. Then, he walked down the entree hall just in time to hear a knock at the door. He looked at the clock. 3:00 AM. Anger seized him. People should have more manners than to visit at such a time.

He opened the door with a clear scowl and was greeted by a pristine soldier. He snapped into his role as a nation instantly.

Germany was proudly displaying his new uniform. It was black with several buttons and badges that USSR didn't care to interrupt so early in the morning, but the red arm band could not be ignored as it stood out from both the dark uniform and the night. The white circle in the middle bore the symbol of the Nazi party in black fabric.

USSR was less surprised with this development than he should have been. Germany had not completely been himself lately. He had been jumpy and in need of action with a fire in his eyes that could not be contained. It reminded USSR of his days fighting for his communist dreams. The mere idea of slowing down had been absurd to him.

"What brings you here?" He asked calmly, not at all intimidated by the stiff younger nation in his doorway who was much better dressed and had probably come prepared with something. Although, he was cautiously wary. He mostly felt contained anger and annoyance along with a small bit of curiosity.

"May I come in?" Germany asked. He was always so polite, an expert at being political. USSR could play that game easily.

They found themselves drinking tea in the living room and discussing a plan to keep USSR neutral. Germany stated, "I don't want to fight you. We are both powers. We both have strong armies and strong ideas. You make no move to attack me, and I make no move to attack you. It is simple."

"How interesting. You are right. You should not want to attack me, you should fear my military and how large it is." Germany tried to protest, but USSR cut him off easily by continuing his speech. "I do not want another war. I have better things to focus on, and I don't mind you taking over some other parts of Europe. However, Poland can not fall completely into your hands."

Germany was then distracted from the insult and his thinking steered into a planning mode. He had not touched his tea. "Perhaps vodka?" USSR suggested and gestured towards the cup. Germany shook his head. He was staying on subject.

USSR nearly signed. Younger nations seemed to have less tact in the game of politics. Make an event of it, make history something to be spoke of. Wow your enemy with subtle threats that will keep them up at night as they slowly realize just what each one meant.

Germany tapped his foot. "What do you propose about Poland?" He sat up straight as if it had been taught to him that slouching was a crime as he stared down the larger nation.

USSR smirked from his relaxed position. They were playing two different games. Germany was showing power by careful control and looking professional. USSR had given up that the second he opened the door in his night robe. He was showing power by being casual, showing that Germany had no affect on his bearing, and he could see sparks of annoyance in the serious man's eyes to reward his efforts.

"Let's split Poland. With both of us invading, he won't stand a chance, we will lose less men, and both of our lands will grow." USSR said before taking a sip of his tea. His act of not being bothered faltered with just a second when he looked up and caught a flash of blue darting behind the wall. America had no place in this conversation.

It was not for him to listen to. America would not approve. Suddenly, USSR felt like one of those poor men having to buy jewelry or flowers to appease their angry wives after being caught drinking or gambling.

Unfortunately, Germany caught his gaze and turned around. USSR watched him stare at the wall for a few moments, unable to see who was just around the corner. USSR smirked, deciding to make the best of it. "If you are feeling paranoid, all the more reason to make a deal with me."

Germany turned back to him and scowled. He held out his hand to shake. USSR was reminded of how many American country songs featured making deals with the devil, but this was real life, and there would be no fiddling contest or magic way out of what needed to be done, so he shook the hand before him with a skull ring he noticed as his hand brushed the cold metal.

But Germany stood up instantly after and walked towards the corner. "I don't appreciate being spied on." he hissed. USSR jumped up after him, and they both rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw nothing. A spark of pride filled the larger nation. That was just like his boyfriend to worry him so much and end up walking right out of trouble.

"Well, it isn't spying if you just happen to be talking while someone is making hot chocolate in the next room." America said casually from his spot at the counter.

USSR groaned. It was also just like his boyfriend to be making hot chocolate on the brink of a war and draw attention and danger straight to himself. Germany jumped and turned around. USSR didn't miss the way his hand went to the gun at his hip. America saw as well, but Germany didn't draw the weapon, his fingers traced it before falling to his side.

"America." The imperialistic nation greeted simply. He held out his hand for a handshake of greeting. USSR watched as America took his time, letting Germany's hand linger in the air for a few moments as he took a sip from his sweet drink. Just as Germany started to lower his hand, America reached out and gave a firm shake.

"Do you usually make hot chocolate in the early morning in the summer?" Germany asked knowingly. The two nations from what had been dubbed by older nations as the second generation stared each other down with nearly identical blue eyes. Germany's were a tad lighter and clearer, like the unnatural shade of windex. America's were more still than normal but as searching as always, sucking in information.

"I'm just unpredictable like that. Do you usually come armed to someone's house in the early morning?" America grinned and stood up, moving from behind the counter. USSR's eyes widened, and he had the urge to drag the smiling nation from the room.

America was in his button up, blue sleep shirt, but he had apparently decided he didn't have time in the early morning for pants. He was in his boxers which were thankfully plain black, but he was wearing red, humiliatingly fluffy slippers. Just above this slippers were two ankle holsters with a shining pistol in each.

Germany blushed and looked up to meet America's eyes after his surprised gaze flickered down to bare legs. That little glance was enough to make USSR want to stab his eyes out, but he also smirked. He had grown used to how comfortable America was in strange states. Germany was less used to the strange people across the pond.

America raised an eyebrow, and USSR's heart melted. He looked adorable with bed head in his pjs and with guns strapped to his body. If USSR described his type a few centuries ago, America would be far from it, but his opinions had changed when it came to who he wanted to date, and now, America in his current state made USSR want to grab him and never let go. Adorable and vicious was apparently a good mix.

Germany regained his professionalism. "It is best to be prepared. None of us are at war with each other, but you never know what tomorrow might bring." It was a threat, a clear threat. USSR and America both responded with smiles.

"Absolutely." USSR agreed with hard eyes that had seen and attended to the deaths of thousands.

"I'd say so!" America chirped and walked closer to the two men so that Germany was between the two other powers.

The unwelcome guest took the hint. He nodded to USSR and said, "We can have a formal meeting to discuss this later. Thank you for the tea." Germany left swiftly. He was barely out the door before Alfred was in Ivan's arms complaining about being sleepy.

Ivan sighed and wrapped an arm around the smaller male's waist. "Alfred, you know how you often complain about being underestimated?"

"Yeah." Alfred murmured and rested his cheek on his partner's shoulder.

"It would help to stop that if you checked to see if you were wearing pants before confronting a possible enemy."

The American looked down with wide eyes and groaned. "Fuck. You know what? Fuck it. Germany got to see how jacked my legs are. He must know now that it would hurt like hell if I kick him."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "To bed with you."

Alfred shook his head and his gaze grew more alert. "Ivan, I don't like this. You're making deals with bad men."

Ivan sighed and took his hands. "Sometimes, that is the best option."

June 1941

"Are you alright?" Alfred demanded over the phone. His hand shook slightly with the restraint to only bend the phone slightly and not break it in half. Invaded. Germany had invaded the Soviet Union. Those bastards!

Alfred had had it with the Nazis. He wanted to stay neutral, but he also wanted to rip apart the men that dared to hurt his family and partner. Arthur was in constant trouble now, and it put Alfred on edge. He did everything he could for his father figure. He traded battleships for bases and made new treaties just so he could sell weapons to the Allies.

Alfred called Matthew whenever he could and was often met with a message. He knew his twin was busy on the frontlines.

It was only a matter of time before the world went to hell, and Alfred had a shot to keep his people out of it. He sold and traded. The war fixed his depression right up, but he still wanted to help by attacking. Yet, his people mattered far more. He didn't want another generation of Americans to know war, so he pushed back guilt at not helping and saved himself.

"What do you think, Alfred?" Ivan snapped. Alfred swore. "I'll kill him. I'll-"

"You will do nothing." Ivan said simply. "You will stay away and wait, and that is what is best for America. I know you cannot be convinced otherwise."

The words made the air feel heavy.

Next Chapter: Actual fighting. I promise.