Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters used in this Fanfiction.

It was a winter wonderland in Washington D.C. Large snowflakes drifted slowly to the gray concrete, collecting like a thin layer of dust. The meeting had gone well that day and everybody got along. France and England were civil and Korea didn't try to grope only thing that stuck out in America's mind was Russia's odd attitude during the lively meeting. On a normal day, the Russian would sit in his seat, smiling at god knows what. This particular day, however, Russia looked distraught, annoyed almost. His normally placid (albeit creepy) face was dark and his eyes narrow. Nobody dared inquire as to what had put him in such a foul mood. One could never know when he had that horrid lead-pipe hidden in his coat.

America stood in the archway, watching the other nations get into their respective vehicles and drive away. A few nations lingered in small groups, discussing the topics that had been addressed earlier, or perhaps something entirely different. America's attention was caught by a loud conversation going on on the other side of the brick wall he was leaned against. After closer listening, he determined it was Russian that was being spoken. It seemed that Russia was arguing with his creepy little sister. America had never been able to understand Russian very well but he could tell from the tone that it wasn't a pleasant conversation being exchanged. Suddenly, there was a loud sound of a hand hitting flesh. America suppressed a gasp. A moment later, Russia stormed off, stepping into a black car that sped away. The sound of soft sobs drifted over the wall.

There was the girl, kneeling crumpled on the ground, her skirt that surrounded her collected a dusting of snow. America was careful not to get too close, he had seen this girl in action before and he knew she was a force to be reckoned with. He knew he should just turn around now and leave but something stopped him. She looked so helpless there in the cold. Something about this girl, sitting there completely broken, made him want to reach out to her. Maybe it was just his heroic nature that willed him to sit down next to her.

"Brother, don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave." she whispered between sobs, oblivious to the blonde sitting next to her. He didn't know what to do so he just stared. The fair girl must have finally sensed she was no longer alone because she suddenly looked up harshly.

"What do you think you are doing here!" There were daggers in her eyes (and probably in her hands. also).

Blue eyes stared at her, burning holes in her icy composure. She tried so hard to keep the tears at bay, to keep up the foreboding attitude in front of him, but the emotions crashed against her like waves, getting stronger every moment. This man had no business with her and had no right to witness her in such a state. It was all in vain though, those blue eyes were unrelenting. Like a pool of still, clear water just begging for it's surface to be broken. The wall crumbled.

He watched her struggle with herself before him, saying nothing. She went from angry to desperate and from desperate to should he do? He was still afraid to say anything. Slowly, he placed a hand on her back, bracing himself for a knife to the throat. But no such thing came, she just kept crying. It was then he noticed the angry red mark on her face. Her body quaked under his hand.

The warm hand on her back surprised her but she didn't knock it away. How could a hand be so warm even though it was so cold outside? It was like a fire burned inside this man, shooting it's heat through his body and then to hers. Something swelled inside her. It was a need to be held, to be comforted and it only grew stronger with every sob. Then, she did something she had hoped she would never do. Burring her face into his shoulder, she soaked his shirt with tears.

She had expected him to push her off, disgusted with her weakness, like her brother would have. But instead a brown leather jacket was placed around her shoulders. That was when she realized she had ever been cold. Surprised, she looked up at him. His face was calm and those blue eyes were still piercing. Every time she had seen America he had always been stuffing his face or saying something annoying but he was different now. Calm. Composed. Kind. Her mind lingered on that word. 'Why is he being so kind to me?' she thought to herself.

'She is staring at me!" America thought to himself, alarmed, "I hope she isn't mad! That might not end too well". But she didn't pounce or yell, she only looked at him as if she were trying to figure him out. But that was okay, he was trying to figure her out too. He almost jumped when she began to speak.

"Mr. America. Why are you showing me such kindness. I've never done anything for you, so why?" She had stopped crying.

"Why?" What an odd question. "Why wouldn't I help someone in need of helping?" Isn't that what he always did?

She stared for a moment, thinking. "You are a very interesting person, Mr. America." A ghost of a smile appeared on her face.

"Please, call me Alfred." He gave her a huge smile.

"Nice to meet you. Natalya." This time she smiled in return.

"Well Natalya, how about we go inside and get something warm to drink?" He stood up and offered he his hand.

She took it."That sounds very nice."

The two walked into the building side by side, talking along the way.

FIN~

Ah! I saw a fan-art of this paring once on DeviantArt and fell in love. I think what I like most about it is the fact that America has such an open personality and Belarus has such a closed one. They truly are opposites. Its kind of thrilling. I know that they both seem sort of out-of-character but oh well. Hah. I feel really bad for making Russia out to be such a bad guy. Sorry! Also, I think i will be writing a lot more hetalia fan fiction in the near future, so if anyone has any requests for a paring they would like to see I would be happy to do that!