Another something from the hetalia kink meme that I'm de-anoning here. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me.
Useless Spectacles
It was a pre-meeting ritual. England sighed, as he watched America, in his normal seat next to him, pull out an old faded handkerchief. As he always did before each meeting, America would sit down, clean his glasses with that same old thing, and situate all of his various and sundry meeting paraphernalia: papers, pens, laptop, soda, burgers, candy.
Today, however, there was a disturbance in the ritual as England then watched America squint, pat himself and his head, and then fold down onto the floor, waving his hands around.
"Aw man!" he groaned and patted the floor in front of him. "Where'd they go? Where'd they go?!"
England stared at the display America made of flailing his arms this way and that, patting the floor, people's legs, their pockets. It was absurd!
"Sorry!" "Excuse me" "Oh! Gotta find 'em!" "Have you seen them?" "Sorry about your feet"
"What the hell are you going on about, America? Get off the floor this instant!" He tugged at his arm.
"I can't find them!" Finally, the emotional nation made efforts to rise from his undignified position on the floor, arms still flapping. He caught England behind the knees and nearly sent him to the floor.
"Ack!" Just barely did he brace himself against the table in time to prevent falling. "Oi! Idiot! Watch what you're doing!"
He was all but ignored. "What am I gonna do? They're not anywhere!" It was the expression on America's face that kept England from snapping at him, so innocently half-witted without his glasses.
"I still have no idea what the bloody fuss is about. Straighten up. Ugh! You're a mess. Just look at you."
"But that's the thing!"
"And what, pray tell, might that be?" It was like speaking to an over-grown child.
"I've lost them!" And, he sounded like one too.
England huffed and brushed off his suit, and then proceeded to brush the dust and wrinkles from America's suit. "What have you lost, America?"
"He misplaced his glasses." Canada spoke up, drolly, from behind America's shoulder where he had been sitting on the table, the only place where he could keep his legs out of his brother's way as he scurried along the floor.
England's eyes-widened. This never happened before. And was, in fact, so shocking that the entire room was temporarily silenced at the quiet declaration. And then, they were all a titter about it.
"Canada!" America spun around to address his brother, so squint-eyed that his nose wrinkled. "Dude! Do you have any idea were they mighta gone?"
England snorted and clasped a hand to his mouth, in a failed effort to suppress his laughter. America was not looking at Canada, but had turned in the opposite direction and was speaking to a rubber plant.
"Come on, man, speak up!" America huffed.
"That's not funny, America!" His brother cried.
"Oh!" He shifted his positioning slightly. "I know it's not funny. This isn't supposed to be funny, Canada."
England held his stomach, so as not to laugh, once again, because America now faced the water cooler.
"Can it, you,!" Canada cheeks puffed out in his frustration. "The bum doesn't even..."
But whatever the other North American was going to say was cut off, as America started to walk away, waving the air with one hand, while the other dug around in the depths of his trouser pockets.
"This is practically a National Emergenc—ack!" He ran straight into the Baltics, who were watching dumfounded at the other end of the table. "So sorry about that France!" he said to Lithuania.
He changed course and backed into Russia. "Oh, Sweden! Sorry, big guy." America patted him down in a general apologetic way that made England cringe. "'Scuse me. Gotta contact my government."
Russia gave him an innocent—creepy—smile and raised his hands. "America," he said. "You do not know what you are doing, da?"
"Oh shit!" Canada intercepted the other nation as he reached out toward America. "Russia! He doesn't! He doesn't even..."
But, America had moved. And, again, Canada was cut off as his brother ran head on into the door. "Ow!" He rubbed his forehead and elbow. "Did someone move the door something?"
"Here." Canada opened the door and placed a stabilizing hand on his brother's back. "You idiot."
"That's mean!" He pouted, crinkling his nose at another rubber plant. "I'm at a disadvantage here."
"Maybe, but it's your own making." He tweaked America's nose, pulling his head so he was facing him.
"Hey, now!" America's pout grew. "Sorry 'bout that. But, you've got your glasses. Don't be a meanie and gloat about it."
"I'm not." Canada fought to keep his voice level. "You're just being ridiculous and I'm just trying to help you. I have no idea why."
"Hehe. 'Cause you're my brother and you love me."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." He gave him a playful shove out the door, probably so they could call his secretary. "Sure, I love you. Come on."
And thus it continued. Canada convinced America that it was not necessary for him to call the FBI, the CIA, or the Secret Service—that they would continue to look for Texas, after the morning session.
Lunch came and went. They searched constantly for them, as America flailed and ate and whined.
"But!" he spoke to the philodendron just outside the conference center building as they returned from lunch. "I can't think without Texas!"
"I really wish you would try to think with a different state," Canada muttered. "You're being a child."
"Geez, bro. You know it's really hard to hear you sometimes." He leaned closer to the plant.
Canada huffed, and spun America around to face him. "This is really getting old, America. You can see just fine. I know. Just stop this."
"Ahem." England approached slowly, having watched their exchange from inside the lobby, and held the door open. "Come, boys. The meeting will resume soon."
"Oh, sure!" America grinned. "On our way, England. Aren't we, bro." He turned again to the plant.
England gave Canada a commiserative smile.
"Come on," he grumbled and walked behind America, pulling him along by a firm hold on his arm.
And, it continued still. America talked to the elevator's mirrored wall as he stood next to him. Odd that, England thought, as he watched the display. He could look straight at Canada from across a room, but not when directly beside him. Strange, indeed.
Their latest debate—still about America's glasses, (he doesn't need them? Clearly that's a load of bullocks) which was no surprise—was finally put to rest when the elevator doors beeped and opened to let them out. At last. This time, England takes America by the arm and directs toward the meeting room.
"He really doesn't need you to do that," Canada muttered, yet again, skulking ahead of them to open the door.
"If he doesn't why did you open the door? Hm?" England smiled, attempting to humor both brothers simultaneously. Though, that was never a rational idea.
"Seemed like the thing to do at the time."
He smiled wider, because he had taught both boys to be polite. Canada took to his etiquette lessons more than America, it seemed.
"Well come, let's all sit down, shall we?"
"But I don't wanna go through another part of the meeting without my glasses!" America crossed his arms over his chest with a petulant huff. "Ah-ha!" He patted the chest of his suit underneath his jacket. "Haha! I knew I couldn't have got far without them!"
"What?!" England gawked.
"Heh..." America had the shame to look appropriately sheepish as he slid them on over his nose and took his seat. "There all the time. How about that? Go figure."
"America." Canada was fuming. "You mean to tell me that you had your glasses." He took a deep breath. "In your pocket." And, another deep steadying breath. "All morning long?"
"Um," America turned to the rubber plant. "Yeah?" he whispered, and smiled, as though that would forgive all.
"I'm over here, jackass!" his brother swung America's chair around to face him. "God, America, you're so ridiculous sometimes!"
"Oh," America blinked comically, in innocent bafflement. "Sorry, thought you were over there." He gestured in the general direction of the rubber plant. "You really need to stop muttering or something. I can't hear you half the time."
"Ugh, you're impossible."
"Geez, sorry. Sensitive much."
England felt it was time for him to speak up again. "Enough, you two. We really need to start the meeting."
He received a chorus of "You're right" and "Okay, chill."
Germany moved to the front of the table and made a production of examining the agenda. "Ahem," he cleared his throat very loudly to get everyone's attention. "I believe that it is America's turn to speak."
"All right!" America pumped his fist and jumped from his seat as he collected his papers. "The hero is gonna rock this meeting now." He moved to the front and settled at the lectern.
"Make it brief," Germany mutters as he takes his seat.
"Okay then, everyone." He glanced down at his notes. "Today I'm gonna talk about... I'm gonna talk about..." He craned his neck down to get a closer look. "Hold on, folks, I gotta clean Texas." So, he took the frames off his face and pulls out his handkerchief and cleans his lenses.
England really does think it is sweetly sentimental that he has kept the old thing all these years.
"Wow," America squinted his eyes through his glasses at his notes and then at the congregated nations. "Huh, I need to deep clean those babies." And, he slides them up to perch atop his head "Ah well. I'll just continue on with out them."
"What!?" Most of the nations gawked.
"Wait!" England rose slowly from his seat and slunk toward the lectern. "Do you mean to tell me?" He plucked America's glasses off his head. "That you don't need them to see?"
"Well, yea- Hey!" America batted at England's hands in an effort to retrieve his glasses.
"Good lord, these things are filthy. How do you see out of them?"
"I don't really need them to see, ya know."
He shook his head and walked slowly back to his seat. "You are such a prat."
Well, I hope you enjoyed. I would appreciate reviews. I edited it myself, so if you see anything that needs to be corrected, please let me know. Other comments are also appreciated.