A/N: I looove baseball. And I also like this pairing. So I thought to myself, why not?

Pregame Show

"Umm… so, do you know how to play baseball?" Asked an insecure Alfred E. Jones to the woman standing to his right. The woman with the platinum blonde hair ignored him as the pair walked down the cement stairs to their seating section. Alfred was stopped by the usher briefly when she asked to see his tickets.

"Ehh…" Alfred sweat dropped when he saw that his hands were full carrying enough food to feed a family of four. He couldn't bother the lady to reach into his pocket as she had a hair full of white and was wearing glasses with thickness that rivaled the bottom of old Coke bottles.

"That's alright sonny," the old lady patted his forearm, "Your girlfriend here can just hand them to me, no?"

Alfred sucked his breath when he felt his companion's eyes boring a hole through his jugular vein.

Strange.

Even when she was wishing harm on another person, she made sure to go for something anatomically valuable for survival.

"Nattie's not my girlfriend, ma'am," Alfred cleared his throat in embarrassment.

Not to say it wouldn't be nice if she were…

The boyish grin on his face was gone the moment he felt a pinch near his elbow.

"She's an…" Alfred racked his brains for an appropriate word to describe what many others termed the bat-shit insane former Soviet country, "She's an acquaintance of mine."

"Oh!" The old lady nodded and let them through without checking the tickets, "Enjoy you game, sir, ma'am."

Alfred nodded as they continued down the stairs, "Hey, help me look for- oh there it is." The couple walked through the rows of chairs as the sound system came to life to announce the probable pitchers and give a recap of the home team's previous game.

As Alfred settled the boxes of food around his seating area to provide ease of access, he noticed his "date" left an open seat between them even though their tickets said they ought to be seating side by side. The woman crossed her arms and legs as she busied herself watching the grounds crew being careful to not step on the powdered left and right field lines as they rolled up the giant hose.

Seated in his chair, the American slouched so that his knees were clear over the seat to the front of him.

This wasn't going the way he had planned.

Then again, most plans, scratch that, ALL plans concerning Natalia Arlovskaya involved keeping one eye on her dress at all times in case she decided to pull out a dagger while talking to her brother. Alfred shifted uncomfortably in his bleacher seat, careful to balance the small box that held two large cokes, nachos, pretzels, hotdogs and popcorn. He looked at the large digital clock displayed on the jumbotron and noticed the announcer was only getting around to reading out the starting lineups for each team.

"This is gonna be a looong game," Alfred groaned.

"What was that, Jones?"

The American jumped. Holy shit!

"Nothing, nothing," Alfred raised both his hands up to keep Natalia grounded. The Belarusian gave him a glare for a warning and returned to staring at the dancing presidential mascot.

Crisis averted, Alfred returned to his own ruminations. When it is all said and done, it's thanks to Mexico that he was currently sitting less than an arm's length away from the object of his affection. The man had snuck into his house for the 27th time this year and sometime between stealing several rolls of his scented toilet paper and ordering a season package of European soccer through his satellite service, Alejandro had laid eyes upon the world map in his study. There wasn't much left to the imagination when Belarus had a large, red heart drawn with marker encircling her borders.

Next thing he knows, Ivan corners him at the U.N. after a Security Council meeting and demands that the American take responsibility for the rumors concerning his family. Alfred had a suspicion Ivan was taking advantage of his crush on his sister to get rid of her for the weekend. This only made him wonder why the Russian hadn't let Toris take Natalia out when it was obvious to everyone and their mother that the Lithuanian liked her enough to get her name tattooed on his ass.

True story, actually.

"Erm." Alfred shot a hand into his army satchel and grabbed a plastic bag, "Peanuts?"

Natalia signaled that she didn't want any by simply turning away.

Alfred sighed and passed his "date" her half of the food without asking if she wanted it. Despite the death looks she was sending his way, he ignored them as he piled her lap with her portion of the food. In the meantime, he busied himself until the start of the game munching on a pretzel and using the binoculars dangling from his neck to spy on the crowd. He scanned the rows of bleachers and spotted a lady over on row D, section 134 with a nice rack. If only she would turn a little to the…

"Bingo." Alfred's eyes widened, his grin increasing by the second. No bra!

It appeared that the woman in row D, section 134 had gotten into the wrong area judging by what appeared to be her boyfriend pointing towards a row much closer to the field. The woman nodded and she descended the rows of stairs one by one…

"Jiggle effect," Alfred whispered to himself.

"What are you doing?"

The American fumbled his binoculars and accidentally banged them on the lens of his glasses, but not before the pretzel he had been eating fell to the floor. He groaned at the sight of mustard on his jeans and quickly dove for the doughy treat.

"You're not going to-" Natalia's question was cut short and answered when Alfred bit into the pretzel as if it hadn't been on the floor collecting God knows what a mere few second ago.

Were Americans that desperate to stuff their faces that they ate food off the floor?

"What?" Alfred replied to her expression, mouth still chewing, "Haffen't you ever hearff of the five-second roolph? Huh?"

Terms

Grounds crew: A team of workers charged with the care of the baseball diamond. They get the field ready before the game. Depending on the level of play and the league, some teams do the work themselves.

Foul lines: These two lines originate at home plate. One line passes through first base while the other goes through third. Both lines extend past the infield into the outfield and end at their respective foul poles. They're referred to as "foul lines" because any ball hit outside of these lines is declared "foul". A ball hit between the two lines is a "fair ball".

Jumbotron: The big ass TV screen that all Major League teams have situated somewhere in, or beyond the outfield bleachers.

Starting lineup: The list of nine players who will start the game. A list is given to the umpire and to the manager of the opposing team. The order of the players' names inidcates the order in which the will bat in.

A/N: Will everyone please rise and gentlemen remove your hats... man, I love baseball.