So, I feel like I need to do some holiday fan fictions! :D So, in this story, I'm going to use two things that I absolutely hate: AmericaxRussia and the song Baby It's Cold Outside! I know, I can already hear people shouting, "Why don't you like AmericaxRussia?" Because of the little thing called THE COLD WAR! Plus, every time I've read an AmericaxRussia fan fic, America more or less gets the crap beaten out of him. I like pairings where they have mutual respect, not abuse. But that's just me. :P

And why do I hate Baby It's Cold Outside? Because it's basically a song about raping someone… XD Thus why I think it fits so perfectly with AmericaxRussia. Thus, this was born. It's rated M because, well, Russia's being naughty. ;D So, I hope you like this! Please review! They make me happy! :D

x-x-x-x-x

I really can't stay

But baby it's cold outside

I've got to go away

But baby it's cold outside

America closed his laptop as the ending credits scrolled up the screen. That had been a pretty awesome movie! It had tons of explosions and some hot girls, which was basically the perfect equation for an American action movie. America glanced at Russia to try to see his reaction, and slightly shivered upon making direct eye contact with him. There was always just something eerie about those violet eyes of his. For some reason, they always made him feel like he was plotting something.

"So, how was the movie?" America asked, hoping that Russia didn't catch the worriedness in his voice. He was trying to become better friends with Russia after all of the things they had gone through. He thought he might as well try to put that behind them and make one of the more powerful countries his friend rather than an enemy. Sure, England had cautioned him to stay away from the mysterious country, but America figured he could manage. America was a strong nation—he could take on Russia if he ever had to.

"I liked the flames," Russia said happily, his eyes still cold. America laughed, but felt worried at his reaction. Of course he'd like the scene where tons of people died, he thought to himself.

A quick glance at the clock told America that it was late—really late. He grunted at the time as he made to stand up. "It's late," America said. "I should get going."

This evening has been

Been hoping that you'd drop in

So very nice

I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice

Russia looked horrified. "Wait," he said, grabbing onto America's shirt. "Don't leave. Not yet."

America looked down at where Russia's hand was clenched onto his shirt, beginning to get a little bit worried. He knew that Russia tended to be possessive of people, so he should have been expecting this. "Sorry, Russia," he said, trying to pry his hand off his shirt. "I did have a good time, don't get me wrong. But it's late, and I have a long way to go to get home."

"Even more reason for you to stay," Russia responded, his hand not budging at all. "It's cold out there. I don't want you getting lost or sick. Stay for the night."

My mother will start worry

Beautiful what's your hurry

My father will be pacing the floor

Listen to the fireplace roar

So really I'd better scurry

Beautiful please don't hurry

America stared disbelievingly at Russia, his suggestion sending a jolt through him. Spending the night at his house? Russia may appear to most people to have the innocence of a child, but America knew better. Staying at his house would only cause trouble, and he knew it.

"I'd love to," he lied through his teeth, "but I have things I need to do tomorrow. I promised to hang out with my friend Tony. If I'm not there—"

"You won't be able to if you're dead," Russia said sweetly. America wasn't sure if he was saying this because he was worried he'd get into an accident, or because he was threatening him. It really could have gone either way with him.

"Sorry," America said, still struggling to remove Russia's hand. "I need to go."

But maybe just a half a drink more

Put some records on while I pour

Tears appeared in Russia's eyes as he only became more desperate. "America," he pleaded, "you're one of my only friends. Please. Please don't leave."

America looked at those tears, and cursed himself for feeling bad. He gave one last attempt to remove Russia's hand, then finally gave in. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll stay for a while longer. But I'm not staying for the night, alright?"

Immediately, Russia's face brightened up. From his seat on the couch, he pulled America into a hug, his face pressed against his stomach. "Spasibo, America!" he said, holding him close. "Ya lyublyu tebya!"

Uncomfortable with the contact, America hesitantly patted Russia's light colored hair. "Yeah, sure," he said. "I am a hero after all."

Russia ended the hug as he also stood up. "Stay here for a moment," he said, heading towards his kitchen. "I'll get us some drinks!"

The neighbors might faint

Baby it's bad out there

Defeated, America sat back down, crossing his arms. "Better not make me late," he muttered to himself. He knew that Russia was dangerous, but he couldn't stand it when anyone cried. It would have been completely un-heroic of him to walk out on him when he was like that.

Russia came back into the room, a glass in each hand. "Here is some of my best vodka!" he said as he handed America a glass. He gave America a look that more or less told him, "You should be honored by me giving this to you." America didn't really like drinking at other peoples' houses, especially if he didn't know the person extremely well. But he didn't want to be rude to Russia—he was trying to become friends with him after all.

"Thanks, Russia," he said, offering a smile. He then began to slowly drink. He wasn't the biggest fan of vodka, but, again, he didn't want to be rude. Besides, it was some of the better vodka he had had. He continued drinking it until it was about gone. He looked up at Russia to tell him that he liked it, but felt his blood chill when he spotted him. Russia had a smirk on his face, his purple eyes dark with anticipation. He was about to ask what the hell was wrong with him when the room began spinning.

Say what's in this drink

No cabs to be had out there

"Oh God," America murmured, clutching his head. Everything in the room around him was spinning. He was feeling everything begin to slip away from him. Everything except for Russia's horribly content face. "W-what did you…?' he tried to say, but all too quickly, the ability to speak escaped him.

"I just gave you medicine to relax," Russia purred, stepping towards him. "And you look pretty relaxed," he said, his cold fingers trailing down America's face.

I wish I knew how

Your eyes are like starlight now

To break this spell

I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell

America flinched away from his touch, but he couldn't move any further than that. His limbs felt like lead, his mind growing foggier every second that passed. He couldn't do a single thing as Russia shoved his to the ground, making him hit his head as he fell. He let out a pathetic gasp, but couldn't find the energy to scream. Not that it would have helped him anyway. Russia lived in the middle of nowhere, and even if someone had heard him, they would have known better than to try and deal with Russia.

Panicking, America closed his eyes as he tried to find any strength left in him to move, to try to run. But, as he felt Russia pin his arms down with his legs, he knew that he wouldn't be able to escape. He tried to scream again to no avail.

Russia's lips touched his ear, sending shockwaves through America's body. "You are mine," he whispered softly, his hands trailing down his stomach. America tried to plead with him, tried to tell him to let him go, but his throat cut off as Russia's hand found his groin. He let out an agonizing moan as Russia's hand rubbed his fist against him.

I ought to say "No, no, no sir"

Mind if I move in closer

"R-Russia," America gasped, feeling his body shiver against his touch. "Aah, Russia. S-stop it."

Through his blurring vision, America could see Russia's lustful face smirk evilly down at him. "I'll never stop," he said, his free hand grabbing the hem of his shirt. "You are mine. Only mine." He ground his fist harder into him, making America let another moan escape his throat. Russia pulled America's shirt up, revealing his skin. "Ya sobirayus sdelat vas moya suka," he drawled, beginning to undress him like the limp ragdoll he was now.

At least I'm gonna say that I tried

What's the sense in hurtin' my pride

America felt tears in his eyes, having no strength left to hold them back. He couldn't do anything to protect himself as Russia continued to violate him, a horrible smile on his face. He felt a sob choke out through his throat, immediately receiving a hard slap across the face. "Zatknis, suka!" Russia hissed at him, continuing to tease his length. America wanted to run; he wanted to die. He didn't care how he died—shoot him in the head, slit his throat, tear him apart piece by piece—he just wanted to die.

I really can't stay

Oh baby don't hold out

"Please," America pleaded, feeling himself reach his limit. "Please. Russia. Let me go. Please."

Russia looked at him, and, for a fleeting second, looked as if he felt guilt for what he was doing. Then, as fast as it had appeared, it disappeared as—without lubricant, without stretching him, without any preparation whatsoever—he thrusted himself into America. A piercing scream finally escaped him as blinding pain shot through his entire body.

"Ty prinadlezhish mne," Russia said, a huge smile on his face from America's scream. "You are mine."

Baby it's cold out side

x-x-x-x-x

Understand why I don't like the song now? Oh, and quick translation for those of you who don't wanna use Google Translate:

Spasibo - Спасибо - Thank you

Ya lyublyu tebya! - Я люблю тебя! - I love you!

Ya sobirayus sdelat vas moya suka - Я собираюсь сделать вас моя сука - I'm gonna make you my bitch.

Zatknis, suka! Заткнись, сука! Shut up, bitch!

Ty prinadlezshish mne - Ты принадлежишь мне - You belong to me.

And that's your Russian lesson for the day. :P

Anyways, please review! :D