C- CONTINUATION?
I- I got peer pressured into writing a follow up.
Okay, so fine, Shell just said 'you should do a follow up' and I was already writing the first words down, but GD it... I feel like I should blame someone. That someone is, as always, Shell.
Title: Some Hypothesise That International Relations is in a State of Anarchy, or The Consequences of Prank Calling.
Characters: Germany, Italy, Romano, Poland, Russia, Spain, Portugal, France, England, America, Canada; mentions of Prussia, Lithuania, Belarus, Ukraine; implied Prussia/ England, Spain/Romano, Portugal + England, America + Canada, possible Germany/ Italy, Poland/ Lithuania, Belarus/ Russia.
Rating: 13+
Warnings: Bad language, implication of sexual situations (lol France).
Summary: Hobbes (a 17th century English philosopher) theorised the state of nature for human beings was one of war, thus leading to the popular Realist and Neorealist view that, without global police, international relations is in a constant state of anarchy.
Which possibly has something to do with the chaos that can occur as a result of a few simple prank calls…
Germany sighed heavily, not looking forward to the morning in the slightest.
As the leading economy in Europe, it was really his place to be taking control of things on the EU front, and it was nice to be working with two such solid European powers such as France and England on this banks thing… but on the downside, he was working with France and England.
It wasn’t at all that he didn’t respect them. It wasn’t even that he didn’t like them, because, once one got past France’s arrogance he was a genuinely charming fellow who talked about interesting things, and once one clawed through some of England’s layers of obstinacy, he was actually a very funny, and very charismatic individual. So certainly, he liked them both. In their Europeanness (though England on occasion argued that point) they all had a great deal in common.
The problem arose from the fact that he had to work with France and England. As in… he’d have to get between them, and negotiate, and act as a referee, and generally be the third wheel in their battle of words that always seemed to degenerate into childish insults. So yes, much as he liked the two, and much as working with the pair of them usually pretty much set the example for the rest of Europe, Germany could already feel a headache coming on.
Briefly, and distantly, some part of his mind helpfully suggested that he should have taken England’s offer up last night, and joined him along with his own brother Prussia down the pub.
He was startled from his thoughts when Poland came storming in, flouncing through the door with his face twisted into a furious scowl which, on his features looked somewhat comedic. Any amusement that Germany had felt, however, dropped into his stomach, manifesting itself as cold dread when Poland veered off towards Russia, stomping up to him and standing before him with hands on his hips.
‘Is everything well with you, Poland?’ Russia smiled blithely.
Poland, Germany had to admit, was a braver man than most, standing unflinchingly glaring down at a man who was almost twice his size. ‘You! You total dick! I don’t even know what you said to Liet last night, but he totally freaked out! He was, like, hyperventilating when he came off the phone to you and he totally wouldn’t say anything. He just closed all of the curtains and hid under the bedcovers all night. He won’t even come in today, you jerk!’
Most of the room pretended not to listen in on what was being said, though that same ‘most of the room’ were eagerly awaiting Russia’s response. To their surprise, it was unusually lacking in creepiness. ‘But I did not phone dear Lithuania last night, Poland.’
‘Shut up! You’re totally lying. I heard your creepy Kolkol-whatever chant from the other side of the room. I keep telling you, Russia, leave Liet alone!’ Poland argued back.
‘No, Poland. I do not lie. I was…’ to the shock of the nosier nations in the room, Russia looked, of all things, uncomfortable for a moment. ‘I was… playing… hide and seek last night with little sister Belarus.’
‘You wha…?’ Poland trailed off, losing a great deal of his righteous fury over that little admission. It was certainly something that Russia wouldn’t lie about anyway. ‘Then who…?’
‘It was not me, Poland. It saddens me that you immediately think the worst of your poor, dear little brother,’ Russia lamented, though he didn’t look particularly stricken over it.
‘Argh!’ Poland threw his hands up, expression dropping into one of disgust. ‘I totally wish you’d stop calling yourself that. I am not related to you, you creeper.’
‘But big sister Ukraine said-’
‘Just drop it!’ Poland snapped, stalking off in a huff.
Germany shook his head, really wishing that he’d gone for that drink last night.
‘Hey, Germany?’
Startled out of his regretful thoughts, Germany was surprised to find America standing over him. Actually, he was less surprised that America was addressing him, and more surprised over the fact that America had actually turned up early.
‘Ah, America, are you alright?’ Germany asked, brow creasing in concern. America looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night, all pale skin and drooping eyes.
‘What? Oh yeah, sure. Look do you think I have time to go and grab a quick coffee before the meeting starts?’
Germany glanced down at his watch. There were about ten minutes before the meeting was officially going to start, which made it about half an hour before the meeting actually started. ‘I believe so,’ Germany stated slowly. ‘If you hurry, then you should be able to go to the cafeteria instead.’
‘Y- yeah, good idea,’ America responded, completely lacking in his usual eagerness. ‘Thanks, Germany.’ He nodded at the other man and walked away, pausing as he passed Canada, who was busy pulling his chair in and setting his papers on the desk. ‘Oh, hey, Canada?’
Canada looked startled and glanced around himself a few times. ‘Me?’ he questioned dubiously.
‘Of course you,’ America gave him a somewhat pained smile. ‘Look, I know it’s kind of sudden of me to ask, but can I stay around yours tonight? We could talk about NAFTA and… stuff…’
‘Uhhh, okay, but I got a big hockey game on tonight,’ Canada responded, still sounding rather uncertain, as if he expected America to shout “psyche!” at him at any moment.
‘T- that’s cool!’ America laughed, though it sounded rather hysterical. ‘That’s absolutely cool. I’ll see you after the meeting then.’ With that, he walked off, presumably to head to the cafeteria. Canada stared after him in bemusement.
Germany felt rather perplexed himself. He preferred to keep out of the business of others, but if it was going to affect how smoothly the meeting went…
Come to think on it, England still hadn’t turned up yet. If he was out with his brother last night then, Germany reasoned, it was likely that England had got trashed. Still, although he wasn’t late, in Germany’s opinion it wasn’t quite on that he wasn’t at his own meeting yet. France was already starting to eye him up, and Germany really didn’t relish in having to sit through his attempts to persuade him over to “his side” again.
‘Germany! Germany!’
His thoughts were interrupted by a somewhat familiar weight being thrown against his back, coupled with clingy arms folding around his neck. He wheezed for a moment, before bringing his hands up to loosen their grip a little. ‘Italy,’ he said by way of greeting.
‘Germany!’ Italy said again, helping himself to the seat next to Germany’s. ‘Good morning!’
‘Good-’ Germany broke off in order to take a quick glance at his watch. ‘You’re… unusually early.’ Which was true. It wasn’t that Italy was lazy, or a late riser, but he still always seemed to make it to meetings with little more than a few seconds to spare. Well. That or just plain late.
‘Ohhh, well my big brother wanted to get here early so that he could get a good chair!’ Italy explained. Germany took a moment to glance hesitantly up towards Romano, who was lurking off to the side and wearing a murderous expression. Since Germany had yet to receive any sort of verbal tirade from him, he was safe in assuming that he was not the object of Romano’s wrath. If it wasn’t him, then it was probably going to be-
‘Germany!’ Spain wailed as he simultaneously smashed the door open. ‘Germany! Prussia lied to me!’
‘You!’ Romano screamed. ‘Get the fuck away from me, you fucking pervert!’
‘Romano!’ Spain sobbed. ‘Prussia lied to me! It’s not my fault!’
‘That doesn’t change the fact that you’re a fucking pervert, you tomato- brained bastard!’ Romano yelled, though he had placed a chair between himself and Spain, as if to fend him off.
‘Italy,’ Germany sighed as Spain continued to sob apologies at Romano, and Romano continued to hurl insults at Spain. Italy looked at him with a wide, questioning smile. ‘What did Spain do now?’ he asked, noticing that Spain was sporting a rather painful- looking black eye.
‘Hmmm?’ Italy placed a finger to his lips in thought. ‘Well, last night big brother Spain came around our house really, really late. And he knocked the door, so I let him in, and he hugged me, and I hugged him back, but then Romano saw us and got jealous, so he started shouting at big brother Spain, so then big brother Spain hugged him too and was really, really happy!’
‘Yes…?’ Germany prompted. Surely that wasn’t the reason. Surely.
‘Oh!’ Italy clapped his hands together as if he had just remembered something. ‘And then big brother Spain said that he was really, really happy that we wanted him to be the man that we had a threesome with, and that he’d always dreamt that it would happen one day!’
‘Wait, he what?’ Germany choked.
Apparently hearing this, Spain turned his attention to Germany. ‘Germany!’ Spain whined. ‘It’s not my fault! Prussia rang me up last night and told me that they wanted a threesome.’
Oh God. Germany cursed himself for not putting things together sooner. He buried his face in his hand and sighed as everything started to make sense.
‘Oh! And, Germany, big brother Spain said that he really, really loved my big brother! Do you think that they’ll get married?’ Italy gushed.
‘I will never marry that perverted freak!’ Romano shouted.
‘Romano, that’s cold!’ Spain whined in response.
‘What are you even doing here? You don’t even belong here!’ Romano snapped, giving Spain a disgusted glare.
‘He’s representing the EU,’ Germany sighed. ‘Now can we please calm it down? We have important-’
‘I’ll sit down when that fucking moron is nowhere near me or my brother!’
‘B- but-’
‘Romano!’ Germany thundered. ‘Sit down next to your brother.’ Romano looked ready to argue. Germany turned his attention to Spain. ‘Spain go and sit… over there somewhere,’ he said with a vague wave of his hand.
Spain looked heartbroken, but complied, though he paused as moved along the table. ‘Can you tell Prussia that he was really nasty though please, Germany?’ Spain said with a pout that a man of his age really shouldn’t have worn.
Germany frowned. He’d do a lot more than tell Prussia that he was “really nasty” once this meeting was over. A lot more. Not that it was entirely his brother’s fault, he was willing to bet. He most assuredly had a partner in crime in all of this.
‘Portugal!’ England said as he followed Portugal into the conference room. ‘Please just ignore that message. Please. Prussia tricked me, I swear-’
‘England!’ Portugal turned to him, laughing. ‘Stop going on about it, honestly! You were both drunk. It’s not as if I took it personally.’
‘Yes, but-’
‘England,’ Portugal smiled. ‘Really. It’s fine.’
‘Yes, but-’
‘Although,’ Portugal smirked, cocking his head to one side. ‘I’ll have to see what I can do to earn back my position of being your first- best friend.’ England pulled a face, flushing in embarrassment as the nations closest to them snickered behind their hands, but rather than make a comeback, he looked to the side and muttered something that made Portugal grin.
Obviously forgiven for whatever he or Prussia had done to apparently offend Portugal, England made his way over towards where Germany sat near the head of the table, Portugal trailing along behind him.
‘Morning,’ England muttered, moving to the chairman’s seat, rubbing idly at his back.
‘Morning!’ Portugal parroted, though his tone was much sunnier. ‘What’s my little brother doing here? He phoned me up this morning, asking me if I could take his place as the EU rep. Said he wasn’t feeling very well…’ he trailed off, staring over at where Spain was sulking at the other end of the table.
‘He’s in big trouble with my big brother,’ Italy sang.
Portugal laughed. ‘When is he not?’
‘He’s in more than big trouble!’ Romano snapped rather loudly. Spain’s flinch indicated that he had heard.
‘Nothing that you’d know about, right, England?’ Germany said quietly.
England coughed awkwardly, ignoring the question, and still rubbing at his back.
‘Actually, England, I was wondering if you’d seen my brother around,’ Germany pushed. ‘He was with you last night, if I recall correctly.’
‘He must have gone home,’ England muttered, easing himself slowly into his chair.
‘What’s the matter, England?’ France spoke up, finally moving to take his own chair. He grinned as if he smelt fresh blood. ‘Rough night?’
‘Shut up, Frog!’ England shot back.
‘Hey, Spain, now that your much better, much more attractive elder brother is here, do you want to try fucking off back home?’ Romano shouted down the table. ‘You’re not needed here any more,’ he smirked.
‘But Romano! You said that you’d come around mine today to play with the turtles!’ Spain responded with a pout.
‘So, England,’ France purred. ‘Do you need any cream for that? I’ll be happy to apply it for you, naturally.’
‘I- you- argh! You’re such an idiot!’ Romano yelled back at Spain, pointing wildly.
‘I swear to God, France, if you don’t shut the fuck up-’
‘Why? Will Prussia get jealous? You never know, maybe he’ll want to help me,’ France grinned.
‘Romanoooooo!’
‘Germany! Germany! Can we go out to eat after this? I’m hungry,’ Italy pouted, pawing Germany’s arm.
‘England!’ America sobbed, running up to his former guardian as soon as he entered the room. ‘England you gotta help me! My chessboard is possessed! Please, man! You gotta help me out!’
‘Come on now, France,’ Portugal chuckled. ‘Don’t tease him.’
‘Why are you defending him, Portugal?’ France laughed. ‘I thought that you were only his second- best friend.’
‘Why are you so fucking nosey you… you… big nose!’ England spluttered.
France looked deeply offended by that. ‘How dare you! At least I’m not an alcoholic!’
‘What, unlike you, you fucking wino?’
‘But, Romanooooooooo!’
‘Germany! Germany!’
‘So noisy, aru!’
‘Cheese- eating tosspot!’
‘Oh go and suck on some wurst!’
‘England! My chessboard! What are you going to do about my chessboard!’
‘Like, Russia stop looking at me, you freak!’
‘Ger-’
‘Enough!’ Germany roared, smacking his palm to the table for good measure. ‘This is supposed to be a G20 summit and you’re all acting like school children! Now be quiet!’ Slowly the occupants of the room complied, though a few spare glares were thrown around. ‘Right,’ Germany breathed out slowly, trying to ignore the thudding of his head. ‘England,’ he said, turning to the man sitting at the head of the table. ‘Would you like to open your meeting? That is of course,’ he added with a very small smile, ‘if you’re feeling up to it?’
England blushed hotly and sent him a scowl, but otherwise got up and headed over towards the projector.
Germany watched him for a moment before closing his eyes and massaging his temples. With any luck his brother would still be loafing around in England’s house after this, because right now Germany was fully ready to take England up on his offer from the night before. He needed a good drink, and he fully planned on tagging along with England and his brother on their nightly pub- raid.
Even if it meant that at the very least he’d be acting as a chaperone.
Okay, so fine, Shell just said 'you should do a follow up' and I was already writing the first words down, but GD it... I feel like I should blame someone. That someone is, as always, Shell.
Title: Some Hypothesise That International Relations is in a State of Anarchy, or The Consequences of Prank Calling.
Characters: Germany, Italy, Romano, Poland, Russia, Spain, Portugal, France, England, America, Canada; mentions of Prussia, Lithuania, Belarus, Ukraine; implied Prussia/ England, Spain/Romano, Portugal + England, America + Canada, possible Germany/ Italy, Poland/ Lithuania, Belarus/ Russia.
Rating: 13+
Warnings: Bad language, implication of sexual situations (lol France).
Summary: Hobbes (a 17th century English philosopher) theorised the state of nature for human beings was one of war, thus leading to the popular Realist and Neorealist view that, without global police, international relations is in a constant state of anarchy.
Which possibly has something to do with the chaos that can occur as a result of a few simple prank calls…
Germany sighed heavily, not looking forward to the morning in the slightest.
As the leading economy in Europe, it was really his place to be taking control of things on the EU front, and it was nice to be working with two such solid European powers such as France and England on this banks thing… but on the downside, he was working with France and England.
It wasn’t at all that he didn’t respect them. It wasn’t even that he didn’t like them, because, once one got past France’s arrogance he was a genuinely charming fellow who talked about interesting things, and once one clawed through some of England’s layers of obstinacy, he was actually a very funny, and very charismatic individual. So certainly, he liked them both. In their Europeanness (though England on occasion argued that point) they all had a great deal in common.
The problem arose from the fact that he had to work with France and England. As in… he’d have to get between them, and negotiate, and act as a referee, and generally be the third wheel in their battle of words that always seemed to degenerate into childish insults. So yes, much as he liked the two, and much as working with the pair of them usually pretty much set the example for the rest of Europe, Germany could already feel a headache coming on.
Briefly, and distantly, some part of his mind helpfully suggested that he should have taken England’s offer up last night, and joined him along with his own brother Prussia down the pub.
He was startled from his thoughts when Poland came storming in, flouncing through the door with his face twisted into a furious scowl which, on his features looked somewhat comedic. Any amusement that Germany had felt, however, dropped into his stomach, manifesting itself as cold dread when Poland veered off towards Russia, stomping up to him and standing before him with hands on his hips.
‘Is everything well with you, Poland?’ Russia smiled blithely.
Poland, Germany had to admit, was a braver man than most, standing unflinchingly glaring down at a man who was almost twice his size. ‘You! You total dick! I don’t even know what you said to Liet last night, but he totally freaked out! He was, like, hyperventilating when he came off the phone to you and he totally wouldn’t say anything. He just closed all of the curtains and hid under the bedcovers all night. He won’t even come in today, you jerk!’
Most of the room pretended not to listen in on what was being said, though that same ‘most of the room’ were eagerly awaiting Russia’s response. To their surprise, it was unusually lacking in creepiness. ‘But I did not phone dear Lithuania last night, Poland.’
‘Shut up! You’re totally lying. I heard your creepy Kolkol-whatever chant from the other side of the room. I keep telling you, Russia, leave Liet alone!’ Poland argued back.
‘No, Poland. I do not lie. I was…’ to the shock of the nosier nations in the room, Russia looked, of all things, uncomfortable for a moment. ‘I was… playing… hide and seek last night with little sister Belarus.’
‘You wha…?’ Poland trailed off, losing a great deal of his righteous fury over that little admission. It was certainly something that Russia wouldn’t lie about anyway. ‘Then who…?’
‘It was not me, Poland. It saddens me that you immediately think the worst of your poor, dear little brother,’ Russia lamented, though he didn’t look particularly stricken over it.
‘Argh!’ Poland threw his hands up, expression dropping into one of disgust. ‘I totally wish you’d stop calling yourself that. I am not related to you, you creeper.’
‘But big sister Ukraine said-’
‘Just drop it!’ Poland snapped, stalking off in a huff.
Germany shook his head, really wishing that he’d gone for that drink last night.
‘Hey, Germany?’
Startled out of his regretful thoughts, Germany was surprised to find America standing over him. Actually, he was less surprised that America was addressing him, and more surprised over the fact that America had actually turned up early.
‘Ah, America, are you alright?’ Germany asked, brow creasing in concern. America looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night, all pale skin and drooping eyes.
‘What? Oh yeah, sure. Look do you think I have time to go and grab a quick coffee before the meeting starts?’
Germany glanced down at his watch. There were about ten minutes before the meeting was officially going to start, which made it about half an hour before the meeting actually started. ‘I believe so,’ Germany stated slowly. ‘If you hurry, then you should be able to go to the cafeteria instead.’
‘Y- yeah, good idea,’ America responded, completely lacking in his usual eagerness. ‘Thanks, Germany.’ He nodded at the other man and walked away, pausing as he passed Canada, who was busy pulling his chair in and setting his papers on the desk. ‘Oh, hey, Canada?’
Canada looked startled and glanced around himself a few times. ‘Me?’ he questioned dubiously.
‘Of course you,’ America gave him a somewhat pained smile. ‘Look, I know it’s kind of sudden of me to ask, but can I stay around yours tonight? We could talk about NAFTA and… stuff…’
‘Uhhh, okay, but I got a big hockey game on tonight,’ Canada responded, still sounding rather uncertain, as if he expected America to shout “psyche!” at him at any moment.
‘T- that’s cool!’ America laughed, though it sounded rather hysterical. ‘That’s absolutely cool. I’ll see you after the meeting then.’ With that, he walked off, presumably to head to the cafeteria. Canada stared after him in bemusement.
Germany felt rather perplexed himself. He preferred to keep out of the business of others, but if it was going to affect how smoothly the meeting went…
Come to think on it, England still hadn’t turned up yet. If he was out with his brother last night then, Germany reasoned, it was likely that England had got trashed. Still, although he wasn’t late, in Germany’s opinion it wasn’t quite on that he wasn’t at his own meeting yet. France was already starting to eye him up, and Germany really didn’t relish in having to sit through his attempts to persuade him over to “his side” again.
‘Germany! Germany!’
His thoughts were interrupted by a somewhat familiar weight being thrown against his back, coupled with clingy arms folding around his neck. He wheezed for a moment, before bringing his hands up to loosen their grip a little. ‘Italy,’ he said by way of greeting.
‘Germany!’ Italy said again, helping himself to the seat next to Germany’s. ‘Good morning!’
‘Good-’ Germany broke off in order to take a quick glance at his watch. ‘You’re… unusually early.’ Which was true. It wasn’t that Italy was lazy, or a late riser, but he still always seemed to make it to meetings with little more than a few seconds to spare. Well. That or just plain late.
‘Ohhh, well my big brother wanted to get here early so that he could get a good chair!’ Italy explained. Germany took a moment to glance hesitantly up towards Romano, who was lurking off to the side and wearing a murderous expression. Since Germany had yet to receive any sort of verbal tirade from him, he was safe in assuming that he was not the object of Romano’s wrath. If it wasn’t him, then it was probably going to be-
‘Germany!’ Spain wailed as he simultaneously smashed the door open. ‘Germany! Prussia lied to me!’
‘You!’ Romano screamed. ‘Get the fuck away from me, you fucking pervert!’
‘Romano!’ Spain sobbed. ‘Prussia lied to me! It’s not my fault!’
‘That doesn’t change the fact that you’re a fucking pervert, you tomato- brained bastard!’ Romano yelled, though he had placed a chair between himself and Spain, as if to fend him off.
‘Italy,’ Germany sighed as Spain continued to sob apologies at Romano, and Romano continued to hurl insults at Spain. Italy looked at him with a wide, questioning smile. ‘What did Spain do now?’ he asked, noticing that Spain was sporting a rather painful- looking black eye.
‘Hmmm?’ Italy placed a finger to his lips in thought. ‘Well, last night big brother Spain came around our house really, really late. And he knocked the door, so I let him in, and he hugged me, and I hugged him back, but then Romano saw us and got jealous, so he started shouting at big brother Spain, so then big brother Spain hugged him too and was really, really happy!’
‘Yes…?’ Germany prompted. Surely that wasn’t the reason. Surely.
‘Oh!’ Italy clapped his hands together as if he had just remembered something. ‘And then big brother Spain said that he was really, really happy that we wanted him to be the man that we had a threesome with, and that he’d always dreamt that it would happen one day!’
‘Wait, he what?’ Germany choked.
Apparently hearing this, Spain turned his attention to Germany. ‘Germany!’ Spain whined. ‘It’s not my fault! Prussia rang me up last night and told me that they wanted a threesome.’
Oh God. Germany cursed himself for not putting things together sooner. He buried his face in his hand and sighed as everything started to make sense.
‘Oh! And, Germany, big brother Spain said that he really, really loved my big brother! Do you think that they’ll get married?’ Italy gushed.
‘I will never marry that perverted freak!’ Romano shouted.
‘Romano, that’s cold!’ Spain whined in response.
‘What are you even doing here? You don’t even belong here!’ Romano snapped, giving Spain a disgusted glare.
‘He’s representing the EU,’ Germany sighed. ‘Now can we please calm it down? We have important-’
‘I’ll sit down when that fucking moron is nowhere near me or my brother!’
‘B- but-’
‘Romano!’ Germany thundered. ‘Sit down next to your brother.’ Romano looked ready to argue. Germany turned his attention to Spain. ‘Spain go and sit… over there somewhere,’ he said with a vague wave of his hand.
Spain looked heartbroken, but complied, though he paused as moved along the table. ‘Can you tell Prussia that he was really nasty though please, Germany?’ Spain said with a pout that a man of his age really shouldn’t have worn.
Germany frowned. He’d do a lot more than tell Prussia that he was “really nasty” once this meeting was over. A lot more. Not that it was entirely his brother’s fault, he was willing to bet. He most assuredly had a partner in crime in all of this.
‘Portugal!’ England said as he followed Portugal into the conference room. ‘Please just ignore that message. Please. Prussia tricked me, I swear-’
‘England!’ Portugal turned to him, laughing. ‘Stop going on about it, honestly! You were both drunk. It’s not as if I took it personally.’
‘Yes, but-’
‘England,’ Portugal smiled. ‘Really. It’s fine.’
‘Yes, but-’
‘Although,’ Portugal smirked, cocking his head to one side. ‘I’ll have to see what I can do to earn back my position of being your first- best friend.’ England pulled a face, flushing in embarrassment as the nations closest to them snickered behind their hands, but rather than make a comeback, he looked to the side and muttered something that made Portugal grin.
Obviously forgiven for whatever he or Prussia had done to apparently offend Portugal, England made his way over towards where Germany sat near the head of the table, Portugal trailing along behind him.
‘Morning,’ England muttered, moving to the chairman’s seat, rubbing idly at his back.
‘Morning!’ Portugal parroted, though his tone was much sunnier. ‘What’s my little brother doing here? He phoned me up this morning, asking me if I could take his place as the EU rep. Said he wasn’t feeling very well…’ he trailed off, staring over at where Spain was sulking at the other end of the table.
‘He’s in big trouble with my big brother,’ Italy sang.
Portugal laughed. ‘When is he not?’
‘He’s in more than big trouble!’ Romano snapped rather loudly. Spain’s flinch indicated that he had heard.
‘Nothing that you’d know about, right, England?’ Germany said quietly.
England coughed awkwardly, ignoring the question, and still rubbing at his back.
‘Actually, England, I was wondering if you’d seen my brother around,’ Germany pushed. ‘He was with you last night, if I recall correctly.’
‘He must have gone home,’ England muttered, easing himself slowly into his chair.
‘What’s the matter, England?’ France spoke up, finally moving to take his own chair. He grinned as if he smelt fresh blood. ‘Rough night?’
‘Shut up, Frog!’ England shot back.
‘Hey, Spain, now that your much better, much more attractive elder brother is here, do you want to try fucking off back home?’ Romano shouted down the table. ‘You’re not needed here any more,’ he smirked.
‘But Romano! You said that you’d come around mine today to play with the turtles!’ Spain responded with a pout.
‘So, England,’ France purred. ‘Do you need any cream for that? I’ll be happy to apply it for you, naturally.’
‘I- you- argh! You’re such an idiot!’ Romano yelled back at Spain, pointing wildly.
‘I swear to God, France, if you don’t shut the fuck up-’
‘Why? Will Prussia get jealous? You never know, maybe he’ll want to help me,’ France grinned.
‘Romanoooooo!’
‘Germany! Germany! Can we go out to eat after this? I’m hungry,’ Italy pouted, pawing Germany’s arm.
‘England!’ America sobbed, running up to his former guardian as soon as he entered the room. ‘England you gotta help me! My chessboard is possessed! Please, man! You gotta help me out!’
‘Come on now, France,’ Portugal chuckled. ‘Don’t tease him.’
‘Why are you defending him, Portugal?’ France laughed. ‘I thought that you were only his second- best friend.’
‘Why are you so fucking nosey you… you… big nose!’ England spluttered.
France looked deeply offended by that. ‘How dare you! At least I’m not an alcoholic!’
‘What, unlike you, you fucking wino?’
‘But, Romanooooooooo!’
‘Germany! Germany!’
‘So noisy, aru!’
‘Cheese- eating tosspot!’
‘Oh go and suck on some wurst!’
‘England! My chessboard! What are you going to do about my chessboard!’
‘Like, Russia stop looking at me, you freak!’
‘Ger-’
‘Enough!’ Germany roared, smacking his palm to the table for good measure. ‘This is supposed to be a G20 summit and you’re all acting like school children! Now be quiet!’ Slowly the occupants of the room complied, though a few spare glares were thrown around. ‘Right,’ Germany breathed out slowly, trying to ignore the thudding of his head. ‘England,’ he said, turning to the man sitting at the head of the table. ‘Would you like to open your meeting? That is of course,’ he added with a very small smile, ‘if you’re feeling up to it?’
England blushed hotly and sent him a scowl, but otherwise got up and headed over towards the projector.
Germany watched him for a moment before closing his eyes and massaging his temples. With any luck his brother would still be loafing around in England’s house after this, because right now Germany was fully ready to take England up on his offer from the night before. He needed a good drink, and he fully planned on tagging along with England and his brother on their nightly pub- raid.
Even if it meant that at the very least he’d be acting as a chaperone.