Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
Comments and Suggestions go here
Don't forget to link your new fill at the fill index over here.
Remember though that you need not post your updates unless you posted in a new part
Keep yourself up to date -- check out the NEWS HERE
Original Request and Parts 1 and 2 here:http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/9482.html?thread=13588746#t13588746
“Don’t you, like, know what a burger is?” Poland asks, breaking the initial silence, fine eyebrows raised questioningly. “I mean, America eats them mega often, and you, like, sit right next to him, and if anybody else knows about junky food it would totally be you.”
Before England can tell the bubble-headed ditz that, yes, he bloody well knows what a god damned burger is, France interjects.
“Angleterre, that wouldn’t happen to be Amerique’s burger, would it?” France inquires, grin cat-like and devious.
England flushes angrily, masking his embarrassment at his desperate act being called out with his general dislike for the Frenchman. “I- Shut up, frog. Nobody wants to hear you speak.” Turning his attention back to Poland, “This is not a burger.”
“Ve~ Are you sure, England?” Italy leans forward curiously. “It looks like a burger to me…” he observes, though how he can tell with his eyes closed is a mystery best left alone.
“It certainly doesn’t taste like a burger,” England retorts, shoving it in his direction. “Taste it if you don’t believe me.”
Italy, self-proclaimed gourmet he is, practically flinches at the suggestion of sampling fast food, but the glare England tosses him is enough to force him to swallow his apprehension. As slowly as a man being made to walk the plank, the Italian takes as miniscule a bite as possible from the burger.
“Ah!” Italy squeaks, turning to shove the food into the face of the burly man beside him, eating wurst and trying his hardest to ignore the growing clamor around him, “Germany, Germany! England’s right! This isn’t a burger! What is it?”
“Italy,” he says as calmly as possible while internally waving goodbye to dreams of a smooth, peaceful lunch break, “hamburgers taste different in different countries. Just because it doesn’t taste like what you’re used to doesn’t mean it’s not a-“
Abruptly, Germany’s attempt at logic is ceased by Italy shoving a chunk of the burger in question into his mouth.
“See, Germany, see!” he exclaims, gesticulating as wildly as only Italians can. “It doesn’t taste like a McDonald’s burger at all!”
Germany swallows, and if one knows him well enough, they would be able to catch the slight widening of his blue eyes. “I…Italy’s right…” he confesses, tone of voice obviously suggesting he is not used to having to say such a phrase often.
“W-well,” a quiet, disembodied but oddly familiar voice pipes up from…somewhere in the room maybe? “They could be home-made. America’s burgers are never wrapped, you know.”
“Mmm, America’s burgers are never wrapped,” Greece’s somewhat sleepy voice -he had been in the middle of a nap when the growing voices had awoken him- points out over the airy whisper coming from…well, maybe it was just drifting in from the window or something. “How strange.”
“I always figured he, like, tore them off super-quick or something. He’s freaky fast like that, y’know?”
“Why don’t you just check the receipt from his bag?” Austria suggests, and the rolling of his violet eyes is noticeably present in his tone.
England strolls over to the bag and begins to dig through its contents, pushing aside packets of ketchup and napkins and little bags with bright yellow, curved Ms and maybe sneaking a few leftover fries from the bottom because he still hasn’t eaten anything other than that one bite of the not-burger and he’s still hungry dammit.
Reply
Meanwhile, the not-burger is passed between the growing mass of curious countries, who do anything from taking small bites to sampling its smell to pulling the bun back to examine the patty closely.
“Ah, here it is,” England says, and even though he is sure he hadn’t been very loud he is crowded by questioning, curious nations, all desperate to know just what their self-proclaimed hero is really eating.
“It,” England’s large eyebrows shoot up behind his bangs, “It says he only bought fries and a large Coca-Cola.”
“But he always buys his burgers from McDonalds, aru!” China exclaims, snatching the receipt from England’s hands to observe it himself.
“No, he only takes them out of the bag,” Russia points out, smiling his large, spine-tingling smile, very obviously amused by the confusion sending the room into growing chaos. “Maybe he brings these burgers from home and only pretends he buys them, da?”
“Why the hell would he do that?” Romano asks, passing the greatly diminished burger to Korea who takes a hearty, eager bite.
“Perhaps he wants us to think they are from one of his,” France scrunches his nose in palpable distaste, “fast food chains. But no matter.” He takes the burger from Korea between his thumb and forefinger, as it too much contact with it would burn his hand off. “As an accomplished chef, I will most certainly be able to tell you all what this is.”
The nations gather around to watch France excitedly as he, wincing, takes a bite of the remains of the burger, making a big show of chewing and tasting and thinking on the taste on his tongue and swallowing.
“Well?” England demands impatiently, hands on his hips.
France’s eyes are almost comically wide as he gapes -yes, gapes, and very un-suavely, it must be added- at the small bit of food in his hand. “It…”
“What is it, aru?”
“It’s a veggie burger!” France exclaims to the small crowd, just as the door bursts open with enough force that it smacks loudly against the adjacent wall.
All eyes turn to America, who returns the stares with a curious look of his own and a tilt of his head. “What? …Is there toilet paper attached to my shoe?”
Ugh, so much fail. Not only did it take me forever to get this next addition (busy, busy past few days including a tiring two-day orientation and family and so many other things I don’t feel like getting into right now), but I suck at humor of any sort DX Sorry OP!
As for updates…I make no promises, because it very obviously backfires if I do ^^’
lol yes, recaptcha, Francis does have wineries, though I don't see what that has to do with this...
Reply
Reply
And don't worry, anon is just glad you updated.
Poor Alfred. They tore up your man burger!
Reply
KEEP GOING ANON!!
Reply
Reply
Reply
God this is amazing. And oh, poor Germany, having to concede to Italy.
pfff can't wait for the barrage of questions to follow this stunning revelation (as soon as Alfred confirms that he doesn't have toilet paper stuck to his shoe).
for some reason, this reminds me of the fill where fem!California was mistaken for Alfred and went on about civil rights and vegetarianism while the nations freaked.
>_< update soon?
Reply
Leave a comment