God, who was he kidding? Well, the whole world for one. The nations mingled as they filled out of the building. A chilling wind blew through the alleyway (Nations NEVER left secret meetings through the front door. It just wasn't done!). The Bad Touch Trio huddled together in the corner. That was never good. Greece and Turkey appeared to be arguing over poor Kiku again, and Russia was no where to be seen.
"America." He turned to find Germany addressing him. "Yo! Germany! What can I do ya' for?" he smiled his trademark smile (And yes it was as a matter-of-fact!). Germany strolled up to him and jabbed him in the chest. "I want you to put some thought into this issue America. Not another Hero speech. Got it?"
Alfred gulped and smiled nervously. "Yeah! Okay! Can do Germany!" Germany merely scowled and stalked of in the opposite direction to stand with Italy.
America sighed in relief and looked around again. What had he been thinking about? Oh, of course, England. Thinking of England, where was he? He had barely gotten the thought out when England came out of the door followed by and angry Switzerland and a composed Austria. America strained to make out the conversation.
"-know your upset! And no! I'm not hearing this right now! Whatever it is! It can wait until morning! Can you manage to not kill each other until then?" England turned his back on the two nations glaring at each other and leaned against a deserted patch of wall a little away from America. Alfred swore he heard him mutter under his breath, "and get a goddamn marriage counselor already! Gits."
England stuck his hands in his pockets and shivered. None of this escaped Alfred notice. England was cold.
No Alfred.
But Iggy's cold! I can't not do anything!
Shut up. It doesn't matter!
But, all I have to do is walk over and hand it to him!
Alfred F. Jones! It's his own fault for not bringing a coat! But-
US OF FUCKING A TALKIN' HERE!
Same here dude! Shit, he was talking to himself. Creepy.
He shrugged himself off the wall and began to approach Arthur. Hell, he couldn't leave him standing there like that! It wasn't heroic! That's why he was doing this! Right?
He was halfway there when some one else stepped up to England. He blinked. Once. Twice. Shit! Three times for all it was worth! Russia was standing next to England. His England. What the hell?
England looked up at Russia. "Yes? Can I help you?" Russia smiled down at him. "Aah... I just thought that you looked cold! Spring isn't very warm here after all... And you where shivering... And I thought that, you might be cold and all..." His voice trailed off and he stared down at his feet, fidgeting. Wait, Russia was, fidgeting? What?
It was England's turn to blink now. "Er.. Um, it's kinda cold. Not really, I mean..." His words completely contradicted his body. He was rubbing his arms for warmth and was shivering in an pretty darn near violent manner.
Russia looked back at England's face and smiled. A real smile, not his, 'your gonna' get it' creepy-ass smile, but a REAL honest smile. "Um, you can borrow my scarf if you want!" he chirped. "It's really warm and soft and nice!" He began unwinding it from around his own neck before placing it gingerly around England's. He wrapped it around tenderly before tucking the ends in like Arthur was the most delicate flower on the surface of the entire Earth.
It was only when Russia blushed and stepped away that America noticed the silence. He quickly realized that everyone had been watching the exchange. He also realized when everyone turned to look at him that he was standing halfway between the wall and England, gawking like an idiot. Alfred quickly retreated, watching from a distance as England fingered the scarf.
He finally dropped it and went back to leaning against the wall, burrowing into the overly large scarf. He was no longer shivering, and his hands had stopped rubbing at his arms. He appeared content. Alfred's stomach churned. If he knew one thing at that moment, it was that that scarf had to go, and his jacket needed to be in it place. And it needed to happen soon.
As custom, they all went out drinking. It wasn't even custom. Hell! No one had even established it! It had always been and it just always was!
England wormed his way to the back of the room. He already had a headache and he didn't want to deal with France until he'd downed a few. Easier said than done. He wasn't even halfway there when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
"Arg!" He stumbled and landed flat on his back on a table. He cursed quietly and looked up to find the head of one Prussia the awesome leaning over him, grinning like a... well, a Prussian.
"Dude, wow. Just, wow." England sat up. Resigning himself to his fate, he sat down in the only vacant chair. Prussia headed the table, France and Spain sitting around him. An angry Romano sitting next to Spain. "Wow what?" he gave Gilbert his best glare for banging his head on the table top. It was ignored to say the least. "Seriously? You DARE sit here wearing Russia's scarf, RUSSIA'S SCARF! His prize possession! That NO ONE touches! Not even the awesome me! And all you can say... Is 'Wow what?'" Gilbert leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the wooden surface.
England thought for a moment. "When you put it that way, it does seem odd you know." He looked down at the scarf wrapped around his neck. It was easy to see why Russia always wore it. It was so bloody comfortable! It was soft, kept the perfect body temperature at any given moment (As far as he could tell, it wasn't summer yet after all.) even if it was a tad bit long.
Gilbert watched Arthur think for a few moments before cutting in.
"You can't be serious. You can't be FUCKING serious?" he threw his arms up in the air. "Really? You don't see it? All any one can talk about and YOU are just a clueless idiot! Well you know what England, I'm not going to spell it out for you! You got that?" He glared at England, his feet swinging off the table as he brought there faces close together.
"What the bloody hell Prussia? What ARE you going on about?" His large brows knitted together.
Prussia turned to the others at the table. "None of us are going to tell him! Right?" France and Spain roared in response. Lavino just sat there looking surly, going on about tomatoes under his breath. A voice suddenly chimed in out of no where, "Are you sure that's safe Gil? You know Ivan... This could end badly if he has no warning you know."
The only person who didn't seem surprised to see the newcomer pop out of thin air was Prussia. You could hear the double take at the table as he spoke.
"Of course Birdie!" Prussia wrapped his arm around the Canadian. "We'll watch out for him! We're just not gonna' tell him what he should already know! Get it?"
England chose this point to interject, "Okay, first of all, how long have you been sitting there? Second, what can I not see? And third, what do I have to do to get a drink around here?"