EDIT: Created out of extreme boredom. This story was inspired by Trisana Tennant story 'At the bitter end'...which was hilarious. Ivan is a cat and it's just, aw so cute!

So, I was sitting in my Sociology lecture and thought, hey, what if America was the cat? This is written based on my cat's crazy adventures =_=.

This is bro-mance. If you want you can interpret the later and final chapters as romance, but obviously leading up to the end it will be all...you know...befriending a really annoying cat.

I don't own Hetalia or its characters.

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It was a sunny afternoon as Arthur walked along the pavement, his shoes clicking as they hit the ground. People passed by without the slightest idea of what was happening right before their eyes. He grinned wickedly. He had made sure to google the current weather in Russia, and wasn't it his luck? A bloody snowstorm was wreaking havoc on Moscow at that very moment. Perfect. The door chimed happily as he walked into the small café, the man behind the counter smiling at him.

"Hello Arthur!"

"Hello Jack. How are you on this fine day?"

"Very good sir. The usual then?"

"No no…I think I'll have something special today…" He trailed off, staring down at the various cakes stored happily behind the glass.

"Oh, something good happen then?"

"Oh yes. Today is a very good day…"

"Um, sir, aren't you worried that something might happen to America? He wasn't wearing proper clothing for the cold." Muttered the small fairy, who was also eyeing a slice of strawberry short cake. He shook his head.

"Of course not. That idiot always finds a way out of these messes." Jack merely stared as his customer as he continued his conversation with no one in particular. A smile still plastered to his face, Jack sighed. This guy seriously freaks me out…

And it was at that moment, thousands of miles away, that said American woke up.

Freezing.

Laying in a dumpster.

W..what the hell? His head ached as he rolled over in the trash. Where was he, and why did it smell like rotten peanut butter?

He squinted his eyes to the left and saw a hobo who stared back at him. He turned his head to the right and saw the wall of the dumpster. Begrudgingly he sat up, before freaking out and laying back down again. It was FREEZING outside! Since when was Florida so friggin cold? He huffed and slowly peeked out of the garbage bin, noticing a street to his right. Or…it could be a street. There were fleets of white sheets shielding his field of vision.

It's snowing? In Florida? Why would it-OH GOD THE ORANGES! In a desperate attempt to get into action, he heroically leapt out of the trash bin, only to fall on all fours to the ground. He raised his eyebrows at the sudden signals that made no sense in his brain. His hands and feet felt as if they were the same length, and his face felt a little itchy, as if he had grown a beard (which he had managed to do only once, but was beaten by Canada who grew a lumberjack beard). But it was the sights that scared him the most, that almost made him cower. The garbage can was HUGE from where he stood, and the walls of the buildings looked as if they went up for miles…which…wouldn't be that big of a deal if they hadn't been made of bricks, or if the doors to said buildings were not equally massive. He felt like he was Jack coming up the beanstalk into the giant's territory…just…there was no hot harp chick and no golden eggs. And there was no beanstalk. And- you know what, scratch that metaphor. His mind raced, attempting to think. Where was he? Where in the world would it be so deathly cold and snow so hard, and yet be completely different from everything he knew? Where giants apparently roamed the earth?

And then it clicked. Russia. He was in Russia. Except…the last time he was in Russia, everything wasn't so big…

But it sure as hell wasn't Canada. He could tell that much by the fact that it was too dirty to be Toronto. But…maybe it was another city there?

No, it had to be Russia. America knew it had to be. He slowly began to walk towards the opening in the ally. The cold wind slapped his face over and over. It was strange, he was freezing, and yet his skin wasn't clamming up like it normally did. He squinted his eyes as the snowflakes bombarded his face. As he looked up he saw-HOLY HELL!

WHAT HAPPENED TO RUSSIA? He screamed as he gazed upwards at the giants that passed him by. Sure, he was used to Russia being taller than him, but this was ridiculous! They were…they were all huge! They were like buildings compared to him! The wind almost knocked him over as he gaped at the image before him. There were not many people on the streets, but those who were walked tall and quickly, leaving as soon as they got into his field of vision. In fact, everything in this world was massive. The cars, the pavement, the houses…

But his thoughts were confirmed by the clothing that the giants wore. Thick fur coats and hats protected their delicate skin as they stormed past him, eager to get to their destinations. He wrinkled his nose, his legs beginning to harden from the cold weather. He had to find somewhere warm, and quickly. But where to go?

And just as soon as the thought came to mind, he noticed a store across the street with mechanical doors. He could bolt inside and hide somewhere while he called for help. He began to move, remembering Canada's advice to him if he were ever caught in the cold 'Just keep moving…and try not to piss off the wolves. They won't attack unless you try anything stupid…which you will. Oh, and don't run on a lake just because the ice looks thick. And don't try to make a blanket out of snow, just because it looks warm and soft doesn't mean it is, and- you know what? Just don't get lost in the snow. You'll be dead.'

Right, so all he had to do was not punch a wolf or attempt ice skating and he'd be fine. As he trotted towards the street corner he kept his eyes peeled for wolves and the tall people who would almost run over him. When he finally did make it there, he stared up at an older gentleman, his face barely visible underneath his thick layers of clothing.

E-excuse me sir- Began Alfred as the man looked down on him. He hissed and kicked Alfred away with his boot.

"Get away you filthy little thing."

DUDE! Whow! You don't have to freakin kick me! But the man muttered something under his breath and walked out onto the street, ignoring Alfred entirely. Alfred hissed as he followed the man, who he was quickly losing.

Hey! I'm talking to you! Just because I'm short don't mean you can just walk all over me! HEY BUDDY! I will pop a cap in your ass if you don't-

"Look out!" His rant was interrupted by the sudden screech of tires and undeniable sound of crushed metal. Alfred whipped his head around and gazed up at the massive car, its wheel inches from his body. His brain, not quite knowing what to make of the situation, instead made him look up at a man. His arms were outstretched and holding the car at bay, the metal under his strong hands dented and broken. He smiled down at him. "You should be more careful little one, if you do not wish to be road kill." America gaped up at the familiar face who smiled under his unmistakable scarf. Alfred stammered.

R-russia? What are you doing here? And how did I get here? His body tensed as his muscled screamed from the cold. Is this your doing? AND WHY IS EVERYTHING SO FRIGGIN BIG? Russia laughed as he crouched down and picked America up gently in his arms. Alfred, naturally, had a spaz attack.

"What did you do to my car?" Screamed the driver as he rushed out of the car door. But Ivan ignored him, instead staring down at the squirming thing in his hands.

"It is very cold out, dа? You should not be out here in such cold weather little one-"

You piss me right the-friggin- LET GO! PUT ME DOWN! He continued to wither and squirm as Russia patted his head.

"You're so cute. Stupid, but cute."

WHAT DID YOU JUST- Oh I am so NUKING YOUR ASS- and it's when Alfred's head turned that he saw the fine reflection in the car windshield. He could clearly see Russia…but for some reason he wasn't there. All he could see was Russia holding some dumb cat in his hands, the cat staring back at…his reflection…

But wait. He was being held by Russia, not the cat.

Or…wait…does that mean…

And all too suddenly, Alfred passed out.

Russia looked down at the suddenly limp cat, his face growing with concern.

"Oh, did you die from the cold already?" The cat did not answer. Perhaps he was pretending to be dead, in order to trick Ivan. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to pull that trick on him. He shrugged and quickly opened his coat, gently bringing the cat into the warmth of his body. He couldn't just let the thing die out there, not after he had saved its life. He mused and walked away, ignoring the screaming citizen as he went.

So, what do you think, lame? Totally. I was just bored and wanted to write something fun and just...I don't know, not serious. The story will pick up when Alfred goes to Russia's house and gets into all kinds of cat related shenanigans. Hope you like it =D