He ripped himself from Arthur and Francis' grip, screaming with every ounce of angry that built up watching Natalya hit the surface of the river.
Head throbbing, palms pulsing and stinging as blood stained his sleeves, America threw himself onto Ivan, as he stared off at Natalya resurfacing and gasping for air.
"You fucking bitch!" America bawled, his eyes stingy with tears and the cold unfamiliar rain. One punch landed atop the other, Ivan falling almost rag doll-like beneath the trembling American. Betrayal was all he could taste in his mouth, watching Ivan whine silently at the barrage of bruises he handed him. He couldn't stop then. Watching her alarmed little eyes lock on the cold crashing currents, her delicate porcelain skin touching the water in such a cruel and unwanted way. And he dare raised a hand to his own fucking sister. Siblings were supposed to protect one another, and give perseverance and patience to every little action that could possibly upset them.
Natalya was Ivan's family. And as equally cold as his purple icy eyes, he let her go.
"She's your own flesh and blood!" America yowled, sinking his final punch straight onto Ivan's thickly accented nose. His knuckles throbbed and pulsated in a now dull pain. He didn't understand why he was crying now. That overwhelming feeling he had been torturously feeling for the past few weeks with her was all rushing back at him. Yet it wasn't torturous, but soft and glowing, like he were wrapped in a gentle and loving senses of acceptance. God he suddenly craved that smile to warm up his insides.
Russia hurled the distracted Alfred from his body, causing him to tumble to the ground like a puppet. Tears pressed to his cheeks as he dug his fingernails into his palms, repressing the urge to scream. He couldn't take it anymore, letting Ivan ruin everything for him and her. She was finally happy, and as hard as it was to admit, he was as well. But was it considered to be content if he stared at her for long speechless minutes into her eyes, or how he strangely enjoyed her little outbursts of obsession. He'd find himself laying in bed, sleepless at the thought of her candlestick fingers and hot breath.
Oh how her laugh made him feel and think things, and how her stories could put him in such trances. Yet in the end, he couldn't stifle himself to win one measly fight.
"Go get her!"
Alfred shot up from his cold lifeless sleep on the concrete and stared into Arthur's eyes. With every inch of strength, Francis and Arthur clung to Russia's arms, yanking him back from doing any more harm.
"England, France...you guys..." Alfred stuttered, feeling weak.
"Don't!" France screamed. "Don't you dare say anything! Go get her, get your girl!"
Logic hit him like a freight train, as vertigo rattled his senses. Alfred leaped away from the fight, and bound down the slope to the river. Panic fluttered in his chest, as he saw Belarus take one final gulp of air, before being lost in the curtains of the river.
"Hold on, I'm coming!" America hollered, whipping off his bomber jacket, and throwing himself into the river below. His already shivering body was not prepared for how cold the river was. Alfred cursed under his breath, as he bobbed his head for air, coughing and gasping. He frantically looked around, his vision blurry with his now smashed glasses. Before he could panic for any longer, a long pale finger bobbed in the river, a silhouette of a female floating under the waves. America pulled himself through the current, panting and close to crying as he threw himself closer and closer to her.
He had to reach her. Just when he thought he had her there in his fingertips, Alfred knew she was slipping farther and farther from his. Time was running out, and he had to act before it was too late.
America gulped in a large breath of air and submerged himself under the current. His eyelids were frigid to the touch, as his eyes stung against the water. And there she was, riding along under the current, her short hair fanning out around her like platinum seaweed. Natalya's face was painfully motionless, her once sharp stare and gentle Cheshire smile lay dead. Bubbles scampered from her purple lips back to the surface, making Alfred claw through the water even faster. He had to reach her, and he had to hold her. He had to hold her and warm her. He couldn't stand seeing her in this state. His hand barely scratched the tip of her foot, following her ice cold hand.
His hand locked onto her ankle, and he yanked with all of his might. He grabbed hold of her glassy body and squeezed tight, kicking to the surface. The crash of waves against the now gathering rocks, and the pattern of rain made America sip desperately for air, waves tumbling over his face. His hair clung to his forehead, droplets of water finding its way into his eyes. He coughed and coughed, hoisting Natalya up so her face could rest in the crook of his neck. Kicking and trying to stay above the water, he held up Natalya, trying to not let the water touch her face. He felt stuck now. He didn't know what to do. He had to keep holding onto her, and he had to keep treading the water. Ribbons of blood slithered through the current, his wound on his hands stinging against the frigid temperatures.
Eyes watering, coughs making his soar burn, Alfred looked and looked. Fighting waves and swimming against the current, he saw it. Yards away, was an overturned tree trunk, dipping into the water. If he could boost Natalya onto the trunk, he could save her. Burying his face into her sopping hair, Alfred paddled like his life depended on it. The log was growing closer at incredible speed, and he panicked. Just as the trunk careened into his side, Alfred was plunged into the cold murk bellow, still holding tight to Belarus. America's chest screamed for air, as he thrashed his free hand about, swimming against the current. His hand touched the bottom of the trunk that just barely grazed the surface. America steadied himself with all of his might, and pushed to the surface once again, coughing for air and for his lungs to stop failing him. The rain poured down even harder onto the two, as Alfred coughed and heaved, adjusting Natalya in his grip. Taking a deep breath, he threw her up with his drained strength, falling back underwater. The current sucked at Alfred's legs, and he tumbled beneath the trunk and out the other side. Just before he felt a dip in the river, he saw her body draped safely atop the trunk. He was plunged back underneath, and the current picked up speed. The river began to race down a decline in the earth. America clawed and flailed about, begging his body not to give out. Yet, all that mattered in that moment, was that she was safe...
The rapids caught him off guard. He tumbled about in the waves, occasionally crashing into a rock or two. He was merely a rag doll in the strong unswayable current. America felt his lungs give away, as he sucked in a big gulp of frigid water. His insides screamed for rest, as he broke through the surface again, searching and hoping for something to grab onto. Survival instincts kicked in as he lost his train of thought. All he could do was claw at the water and spit out the water that continued to gather in his mouth. He stared up at the sky, letting out a hoarse scream for help. He could hardly get a noise from his vocal chords, as they were icy cold. It burned his entire throat to even utter a word. With how much water he had ingested, he felt as if he were ready to puke. Hands still clawing through the current, America slammed into a jagged rock climbing from the surface of the water. As he rolled against the rock, the current ready to pull him farther down the rapids, Alfred clung for dear life. His palms were numb at this point, the rock cutting deeper into his hands. He screamed and tried to pull himself closer against the hard edge.
Pain screamed and overwhelmed his nerves as his grip on the rock began to slip, cutting an even bigger gash into his hands. He cried. He cried for his country and his people. He knew he couldn't die this easily, yet he felt on the brink of drowning. He had exhausted his body, and he didn't know how much longer he could go on. The final slit of the rock sliced into his finger, as he was shot back into the cold bellow, hands slipping from the rock. Alfred was thrown into a somersault, hitting another rock head first. Sparks and stars fluttered in his eyesight as he fell on the brink  of unconsciousness. He gave up. His body gave forth and his lungs filled with water. The water was becoming warm. It was a little more comforting. His mouth tasted of blood, realizing the water around him was gathering in his own redness.
The current cruelly flung him back to the surface for air, Alfred coughing and wheezing, his lungs hardly taking in enough air. He couldn't take it anymore. As pathetic as it was, he awaited for the blackness of sleep to take him. He had tired his limbs with his best efforts. And yet, he still failed.
If he failed at stopping Russia from hurting Natalya, then he couldn't manage saving himself anyways.
His ears rung, as he heard a muffled yell from above the waves.
"Alfred grab my hand!"
He felt his shirt caught in the snag of something strong and familiar.
Head bobbing up for air, he met desperate green eyes. Arthur stood on his knees atop a rock against the edge, holding onto the side with his free hand. "I need your hand!" England screamed, slowly losing his grip on America's cold and floppy collar. Alfred could just hardly focus his vision on tears in his brother's eyes as he tugged with all of his might.
"Alfred please!" Arthur hollered. "If I let go, then there's no way I'll be able to get you out from here! The river ends in a waterfall at the edge of these rapids!"
America's thoughts were cloudy and murky as his head pounded and spun about. Arthur's fingers began to slip through the cloth, and Alfred inched farther away from him. Panic shot him back into rational thinking and he stared up at Arthur. "Natalya..." he croaked, his head bobbing in and out of the waves. "France has that taken care of!" England screamed, letting go of the side to use his free hand to reach out to Alfred.
"She has to be okay," America whispered. He didn't know if he could live with himself if she didn't make it...
"Worry about yourself for once, lad!" England begged, slowly slipping closer and closer to the edge. "Please! You have to give me your hand! Alfred!"
England winced for a moment. "Brother! Please!"
America felt his conscious coming back in time. He threw a hand into England's outstretched hand. His brother pulled mercilessly, Alfred holding on for dear life. "Alfred, my other hand!" Arthur wheezed. "You need to hold onto the edge!" America screamed, feeling his slippery numb hands start to slide from his. "Alfred!" England yelled. "Just fucking grab my hand, you idiot!"
Clasping both his hands, America felt England tug him from the water, and onto the rock. Alfred's leg still dangled in the water, as he heaved in and out, England scooting back on his knees so the American could pull himself up onto the rock.
The wind gently died down, as if to give America a bit of grace. The loud roar of the river made his head throb, as he felt England pull him up, grabbing him from under his arms, and throwing him into a hug. Alfred could only stay limp in England's hug, his entire body warm to the touch.
"You scared me to bloody hell!" England blabbered, squeezing Alfred gently. America stifled a sniffle, but could only do so for so long. Was this what it took for Arthur to hug him? Was it honestly that rare?
America mustered his strength that he lacked in his now sore arms to hug his traumatized brother back. America let the tears ail his sorrows, of sweet melancholy embraces such as this.
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
(Small NSFW warning, things are gonna get just a tad saucy, but nothing too hot and ready you fucking hungry hungry hippos)
Her hands were now so overwhelming warm she touched his scalp.
Long regal fingers wandered through his damp frizzled locks of hair, as her other hand glided atop his forehead, warming his cold throbbing headache.
His entire body cried with the pain of soreness, as Natalya proceeded to massage his scalp. America sighed deeply and sunk deeper into her lap, looking up at her.
The longest two hours he had spent with her were most likely the most relieving hours of his entire life. England and France drove them to the emergency room after realizing one measly blanket from Arthur's car couldn't do the trick. The doctors treated the gashes in his hands, and a small handful of opened wounds from his bash with the rocks. The both of them were treated for hypothermia and for minor symptoms of a concussion. France insisted the two were to come back with him to find them a suitable hotel room, since America had lost his keys in all of the commotion. Alfred politely declined, still rawly frightened to get the two involved in any more of Russia and his shenanigans. With a heavy heart, France then offered to find them a motel of sorts with the little money he had on him at the moment. They settled for a motel that was a mere two miles from the hospital. The drive there was silent, Alfred wearing nothing but a baggy shirt England had bought for him at a Target on the way, and his soggy boxers.
Natalya was asleep next to him in the back seat of France's rental, streetlights flashing by, and gently caressing her features. She looked peaceful at sleep, making America feel much more sound with himself.
America blamed himself for entrusting France to pick an appropriate place to stay. The motel they ended up pulling front of turned out to be a love motel for couples.
"I'm sure you'll want to work things out after such a raw and passionate night," Francis had said with his stupid amused tone. Yes, the room turned out to be quite nice, but Alfred felt that the rose colored sheets, the hot tub so modestly merging into the bathroom, and the complementary box of condoms, was all too much for him to handle. He and Natalya were simply friends, and he knew more than ever that she got the message he wasn't into her. Yet after that dance, he knew things felt different.
"Calm down, you need to relax," Natalya whispered, as she moved onto gently massaging his neck. Her hair was silky dry, put up in a drowsy ponytail. She wore a soft cloud like robe that came with the room, coming down to her thighs.
He was rather uncomfortable when she laid him on her lap and sat in silence touching him like this.
But she was so delicate and warm that he melted atop of her, hardly caring how awkward this was.
"How are you hands doing?" Belarus asked, leaning down to gently trace a finger along the bandages on his palms. "Better than before," America assured, cupping his palm to holder her finger gently.
The hum of cars passing by in the near distance of the highway lulled America into a sleepy yawn, adjusting himself in her lap. "You don't have to touch me like this you know," America admitted sheepishly. "You gotta admit it's a tad awkward in these circumstances."
"You just looked like you needed some attention," Natalya laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face. The silence came yet again and America's eyelids grew heavy.
Her voice brought him back to those glimmering amethyst eyes. "You did it again," she muttered.
"H-huh?" Alfred stuttered, sitting up to face a now red faced Belarusian. "You saved me again..."
Alfred leaned in a bit closer to watch as Natalya played with a loose strand of hair from her ponytail. "Ever since that day you saved me from Big Brother, you've done nothing but protect me, despite my best interests," Belarus mumbled. "And yet you still surprise me as the hero you are."
America gingerly rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "I s'pose, but you stood up for me back there you know."
She only remained silent, the buzz of the air conditioning making up for lost conversation.
"You're the hero in this scenario," Natalya finally began, turning away from Alfred, and swinging her legs off the edge of the bed. "You saved me from the bad and brought me a happily ever after."
Red faced, America watched as Natalya delicately fumbled with the knot of the rope on her robe.
"You're the hero," she repeated softly. "So this next part is your choice."
The fluffy clouds of her robe fell from her shoulders, exposing her glass like skin. He scuttled back, almost careening off the bed. She sat there facing away in pure silence, as he mustered the courage to peek once again. To his partial relief, he saw the straps of a bra string across her shoulder blades. "Natty, what are you doing?" America blabbered, feeling hot and red in the face.
Natalya remained speechless, as she got up and crossed the room to turn off the lights. Dim darkness consumed the two in a sickening silence. The moonlight danced through the curtains and shone onto Natalya and her exposed skin. As he was raised to, he should have looked the other way, yet he could just sit there and gawk at her.
Soft and gentle hips were hugged with a bland white pair of underwear. Her arms were ample yet fragile looking, hiding behind a well defined pair of breasts. A skin colored bra slung her chest, as if its contents were to fall out any second.
He felt overwhelmed and so warm. He felt so alive, yet so afraid.
He was afraid of that contact, and that much vulnerability. He squeezed his eyes shut, as he heard her climb back onto the bed alongside him.
"You don't have to be nervous," she breathed, the tension hot and steamy. "You're the hero after all."
Alfred shook his head and pulled himself out of the fuzziness of his mind. "Natty we're friends, I-."
He opened his eyes once again just as she snuggled herself into his chest, her bare skin sticking to his shirt.
"Alfie, you're so warm."
He had felt so cold.
"Alfie, you're so soft."
The water was so rough and wild.
"Alfie you're so quiet."
His ears were ringing as she slung her arms around his neck and pulled him into a gentle hug, putting her face into his neck.
Emotions flooded his dam of perception, as he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
That voice, those legs, those hips, her breasts, her shoulders, her thighs, her fragile body, he felt sick with fuzziness.
His hand shook as he guided it up to her left breast, suddenly finding himself cupping it. She breathed a gentle sigh as she began to kiss the crook of his neck, pausing to suck in the skin.
He squeezed his eyes shut and felt like moaning, as he massaged her breast in his shaky hand. It all was happening so fast. All of the unidirectional emotions he had felt for so long, it all was hear in her touch.
Her breast moved around in his hand, and he flinched as a nipple just barely poked through the bra, to touch his fingertip.
Natalya moved up to his jaw and nibbled seductively on his ear, gently moaning.
"Natalya," he suddenly began. "You have not idea how long I've been waiting for this moment."
Hot emotions took over his logic as he grabbed her chest tighter and felt Natalya look up from his neck and deep into his eyes. Everything was blurry without his glassses, besides the red hot blush on her cheeks and ears.
The two slowly arched closer, forehead to forehead and chest to chest.
Alfred closed his eyes and felt his heartbeat increase.
Was he really about to do it?
After everything...
America cried out and pushed himself back, releasing his hand from her breast.
"I can't!" America sobbed, collapsing into his knees, shaking violently and turning away.
"W-what?" Natalya gasped, hiding her chest underneath crossed arms.
"We're friends! After everything! After the war, the alliance, everything, why is it different now!?"
Her candlestick fingers slinked up his back, rubbing his shoulder blades comfortingly.
"Alfie, we are one. I want you. I've always wanted you. It just took a while to finally figure it out."
Her hands, followed by her arms, wrapped around his neck and pulled him in closer, her bosom pressing up against the back of his shirt.
He pushed her away yet again, and gripped his head as he lightly began to whimper.
"This isn't right," he repeated to himself as Belarus sat in silence.
"America...you didn't wanna have..."
He refused to listen any further, as he sat up and threw off his shirt, and flung it behind him, in Belarus' lap. "P-please cover up..." he whispered, giving himself courage to slowly turn around to face the red faced Belarusian.
She stared in awe, eyeing his chest. He could have sworn she licked her lips. She pulled her gaze away from him and shamefully slipped on the oversized shirt. As she did so, her hair was pulled from her ponytail, touching her delicate shoulders and neck.
He felt strangely entranced, still upset about the current situation. He shook his head and puffed out a long breath.
He suddenly felt the sensation in his boxers. He shifted uncomfortably, and looked down. He bit his lip and sighed angrily.
Through the fabric of his underwear, he saw the very thing he feared would happen.
Natalya followed his gaze, and choked on her breath, gazing hungrily at the big bulge now in his boxers.
"A-Alfie..." she began. "You know we can finish if...if it helps your..."
Alfred rolled off the bed and hit the cold floor with a huff. Slapping his palms over his erection, he shook his head violently. "I-it'll go away on its own! I swear!" He blabbered, tears clinging to his cheeks. He threw himself off the floor and up onto his feet. His boner still visibly piercing his underwear, he darted to the bathroom and yanked the door open and stepped in. Throwing the door shut behind him, he pressed his back against the surface and began to cry.
He cried with such embarrassment and confusion, slowly sliding onto the floor.
He stared at his bulge through blurry eyes and bit his lip.
From all that...from all that spicy action...his testosterone wanted him to touch himself. He wanted to touch himself to the thought of her exposed thighs and legs. To her soft breasts and her ass.
He snapped himself from his senses and growled angrily, throwing his face onto his head, softly crying.
They were friends, and would always be friends. He was simply overwhelmed, that's all.
As he cried himself into exhaustion, he repeated to himself this very notion.
__________________________________________________________________________________

Hey snails and slugs! Wow it's been like a hell lotta time since I have updated. I've been really inactive because COVID has sucked the ever living life outta me. I'm overworked and sick, and it's just been an emotional rollercoaster  But I'm back after a while, I don't know if any of my fans stuck around but if you did, hey thank you for the support and your patience. I made this chapter in honor of the fact Hetalia and its dying fandom is coming back in 2021. I found the funny and intriguing and I thought of this fanfic and how I haven't updated in a millennia. But yeah as always, I take ideas and need ideas, and appreciate your patience and support!!

-Jameson