Good Lord, I almost forgot about this. DXXX But no worries! I am GONNA finish this. All 100 chapters. Besides, only 95 to go with this one. -^-

Chapter 5- On the Western Side Part 3: Truth or Dare

"Belarus."

The way he said her name was accompanied by a sly grin that topped the charts of her "Stupid American Things". The way he said it brought up a flare in indignation to her cheeks. She was sure it was redder than her sunburn, because America's awful grin widened. He lifted up her chin with his fingers. "Think I'm too dense not to notice a foreigner amongst my own citizens?" America asked. "I believe we need to have a little talk, my dear."

Belarus hissed and batted his hand away. "Didn't I tell you last time we saw each other not to touch me?"

He shrugged. Shrugged. If Belarus had half the knives she carried around in the USSR, he would be SKEWERED TO THE WALL. And bleeding. Bleeding her favorite shade of red all over his obnoxious cream-colored walls and into his weird orange shag carpet.

"I could have grabbed you on the arm, but I figured I'd be a little nice," he said acidly, grabbing her wrist, "because if you were here to spy on me, I'm afraid I won't be able to treat you as a guest anymore.

The blonde scratched at his hand to release her, but America was completely unfazed. He less than gently threw her on the couch. "Alright. Speak. Tell me the truth."

"I wanted to force your silly Americans to adopt Belarusian culture."

"By wearing American clothes?" he countered swiftly, swiping her cat-like glasses off her nose. Belarus's glare was icy enough that she got a satisfying shiver out of America. However, he quickly recovered with another quip. "And American's aren't 'silly' enough to run outside all day without putting on sunscreen."

So she underestimated him. Belarus vowed it would never happen again. Instead, she held her head high in defiance, crossing her legs despite the pain from her hated sunburn. Belarus was above him. One day soon, she would be married to Russia, and she would be unstoppable. No one- especially America- would be able to touch her then. "I was sent here to spy on you," she answered honestly, haughtily. "However, I haven't found much of interest. You and your Americans are such dull fools."

America crossed his arms, a smirk quirking at his frown. It was getting harder and harder by the second to keep up his all-serious face. Apparently had never gotten that look from Britain, and he was mighty proud of it. "My Americans are simply enjoying themselves. Can you say the same about your Belarusians?"

He had found the crack. Belarus screeched and launched herself at him, bringing the surprised American flat on his back. "Nothing is wrong with my country!" she screamed at him. "We're fine! We're fine! I'M fine! We do not need your sun and radios and TV's! We do not need you!"

"Really? Then I dare you- say that again without tears in your eyes! If that's really the truth, why are you crying?"

"Because I hate you!"

Her echoing shout reverberated through the house. Belarus could practically hear his neighbors cease their pleasant afternoon chatter to stare towards the house uncertainly, curious and fearful as to what was happening inside. She panted for breath, clenching his jacket between her fingers. Glared down into his bright blue eyes, the same hue as the sky.

All she needed was to put her hands around his neck and squeeze until she could not see the sky in his eyes anymore. Until… until through her tears of jealousy and longing could she not see the sun in his smile. Until she couldn't see his face altogether.

But she didn't. Belarus could not move her hands away from his arms, pinning him down. He was her summer.

She was ice.

True to this revelation, Belarus's resolve melted. It wasn't a matter of whether she would or would not- she couldn't take away the closest thing to warmth around her.

Belarus let go of his jacket. Bowing her head in shame, she stood up and stepped away so he could stand again. America stood cautiously, but didn't make any move to subdue her. He didn't speak.

So she spoke first. "Russia sent me here to spy on you and get government information for him to use against him. I leave tomorrow. Since I have no other information for him, I'm going to tell him the location of your house."

"This isn't my house," America said. At Belarus's blank stare, he explained: "It's Britain's, for when he comes over. Did you seriously think I'd keep tea in my cabinets, sunburn or no? I hate the stuff. As far as you know, I could live up north with my good buddy Canada. Who's one of Russia's friends, for whatever reason."

"Russia does not have friends outside of the Soviet Union."

"Apparently you haven't met Canada."

Belarus squared her shoulders. "I'm going now. If I see you set foot on my or my brother's land again, I will not be merciful."

"Same for you, darling," America smirked, flipping a stray hair in her face over her shoulder.

She punched him in the gut. "Last time. Do. Not. TOUCH. Me."

Before she left, America called out to her. "Thanks for telling me the truth, Belarus. But next time I want you to take up on that dare."

An interesting Estonian curse left her mouth.