It was cold. Had it been somewhere else in the world, perhaps America, or Spain, it wouldn't be that bad. However, this was Russia, where the common attire was to wear nearly three layers of clothing, least you contract frostbite. It was also Christmastime, and many were making their way home, to join their families in food, warmth, and festivities.

Not even Ivan Braginski, the personification of Russia itself, was an exception to this. As he crossed the snow ridden streets of the town ( somewhere, he knew general winter was proud of his handiwork ), he frowned, tugging his scarf tighter as he made his way across the country to America's house, where he, as usual, was holding a party for the other nations. He had been running late, however, as he misplaced his scarf, and refused to go out until he found it.

Once he did, he walked out of the house he shared with the three Baltic Nations ( and sometimes Belarus, to his utter dismay ), and headed towards America's. He trudged through the night, the streets already empty of people. He had no problem with this, as he much preferred having his thoughts uninterrupted of people trying to talk to him. Focused on getting to the party, he did not notice the tiny figure stepping in front of him.

"Ah!"

He stopped, not having noticed the figure due to his size. Looking down, he saw that he had run into a girl- a small one, quite possibly younger than ten. She too was looking down, picking long sticks off of the ground as quickly as she could.

"Ah. . .you are alright, da?"

She nodded, not even looking up as she continued her task. Raising a brow, Russia picked one that had fallen near him up. They were matches. Was she trying to sell them. . .?

The sound of wood hitting together made him blink, and he glanced upwards, seeing the girl with a nervous, frightful look on her face, holding the box out. "Um. . .would you like to buy a match. . .? Please?"

Russia frowned. Who would make a girl so young stand out in the cold, selling matches that no one would buy? She was one of his people, and, from the connection he had with each and every one of them, knew that her father did not care for her.

The girl's face fell at Russia's frown, thinking that he would not buy. Slumping over, she walked away slowly, shivering and rubbing her arms to get warm. Then, without warning, she was swept up under her arms and placed on Russia's shoulders.

"I will take you someplace warm, da? I am sure that Comrade America will not mind you there."

No one could really say anything when Russia, 'kolkolkol, become one, da?' Russia came in with a young girl on his shoulders, amazed and mystified at how they managed to get from Russia to America so fast. Nonetheless, Ukraine, always the motherly type, and scooped her from her younger brother right away, nearly suffocating the little girl with her chest.

America is the first to ask what was with the girl, as she ran around chasing Hanatamago. Russia just smiled. "You would do something for a citizen of yours, da? Why can I not do the same?"

He then very nearly shoved a box into America's face, his smile changing from a simple one to a wicked one. "Now, you will buy some matches, da?"

For TheWonderBunny's Disney Mania Challenge. Crossover with The Little Match Girl, like duh. Short, sadly, just almost a page, but at least she doesn't die, right? 8DD;;; Gah, you can shoot me now. . .

First Hetalia fic AND first time writing Russia. . .tell me how I did, da? (/ shot )