THE EU CLUB WATCHES AN ACTION MOVIE

By Kaschai

I only own the story (and my OCs).

For all what he's called, Arthur Kirkland wasn't a patient man, not in the least.

And now, sitting cooped up between the foursome of his brothers, who had insisted to attend the EU Club for no apparent reason whatsoever and that bloody frog who shuffled near ever so slightly; that almost nonexistence patience wore tin, and that very quickly.

At the front today's special guest, Canadia-something, still ranted on about his recent developments and that in a tone so monotone all he could do was trying not to fall asleep right on the spot.

England crossed his arms, to his left; Scotland sniggered at something Ireland and Northern Ireland had whispered to him.

England took a sip from his tea; France let a hand sneak its way under his button-down shirt.

'BLOODY FROG!'

At the front, Canada interrupted his report, seeing as nobody listened anyway. Apparently, his colleagues rather chose to watch another episode of 'Frog-ing' unfold. A vein popped at his temple.

'Excuse me?'

England punched his lover in the gut while his redheaded group of brothers' cheered the Frenchmen on. "BLOODY BUNCH OF TRAITORS! HELP ME, YOU IDIOTS!" Instead of doing that, Wales started taking photos; wearing a grin that threatened to split his face.

'Er... hello?'

Ire & Ire started a betting pool with Denmark and Netherlands who were sitting across from them at the table. France caught his seething lover in a headlock while the other unsuccessfully tried to land a swing at him, screaming bloody murder.

Germany slammed his folder down on the table, rising up from his seat. 'WOULD YOU-'

Canada exploded.

'FOR THE FUCKING LOVE OF GOD! I'M TALKING OVER HERE YOU BUNCH OF FUCKING HOSERS! TALKING, DO YOU EVEN LISTEN?! WHY DO YOU THINK I COME HERE, WASTING MY TIME, BREATH, MY MONEY AND NERVES!? JUST TO WATCH YOU ACT OUT THE NAPOLEON WARS OR WHAT!? YOU KNOW WHAT, FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU ALL ANT THIS SORRY EXCUSE FOR AN UNION! ALL YOU DO IS TALKING; EVERY DAY NOTHING BUT FUCKING TALKING, TALKING, ARGUING AND STILL YOU DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT EACH OTHER, ISN'T IT SO? HA?ALFRED IS COMPLETELY RIGHT WHEN HE SAID YOU'RE A BUNCH OF FUCKING DICKS! I'VE SHOULD JUST STAY OVER THE POND INSTEAD OF WASTING MY FUCKING TIME HERE! DO YOU EVEN LISTEN TO WHAT I'M SAYING?'

The room was nicely silent after that.

Canada huffed, glaring at the frozen people at the table. 'Now. If you're all quite finished, I'd like to go on with my report, if you would be so kind and let me.'

Germany applauded, tears in his eyes. 'Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much.' He said, overwhelmed. 'Please, go on. Ich bin gans ohr. Everyone is, right?' The last word was growled at the rest of the table. There was collective nodding in the plenum.

'Bien. Now, the...' And the blonde went on with his report, obvious to a certain colorless individual lounging next to France. Said would-be ghost was now watching him intensely, an expression of blatant adoration on his face. 'Awesome...'

'What is awesome, mon ami?' Francis dared to whisper to his long-term friend.

'He. Canada.' Prussia whispered back, not taking his eyes of said man. 'You've got something against it if I invite him for lunch?'

'Oh, I'm all fired up already, indeed~'

'That's not what I mean, Francis.' The albino said in a low tone, while the object of their conversation proceeded to describe the upcoming economic plans for his oil industry in more detail. '...You know what; I think he needs a nickname. Ja.'

Spain turned his head, sharply, and stared.

'Mhm…lemme think." Prussia's face morphed into a broad grin. "Yep, birdy; that's an awesome one.' The other two exchanged a knowing glance.

Birdy. The hunt was on.

'…Now, thank you all for your attention.' Canada said frostily and headed for his seat.

Only, it was already occupied by - Prussia?

'Aren't you dead or something?'

The zombie grinned at him, cheeky. Canada stared back, expressionless.

Should he dare to...well, it wasn't just Russia who could play the insensitive asshole. Throwing his doubts and manners finally out of the window, he flopped down.

'So Russia was right.' He exclaimed blankly. 'Others do make good cushioning.'

'AND I WAS RIGHT TOO!' The man on whose lap he sat -and nearly crushed it- shouted into his ears, startling him. 'YOU'RE AWESOME!' Canada tried to stand up, only to find himself being trapped.

'What?!'

'Bruder!' Germany said, scowling jet again. That was one interruption too many for his taste. 'What are you- ...When did you get here?'

'Oh, the awesome me was here all along.' Prussia replied carelessly. 'You just didn't notice me because of my awesome ninja skills, which you're like, totally lacking, Ludy~'

'But didn't I tell you to stay at home for the time being?' Germany said, voice strained.

'And I said that's totally unawesome and boring as fuck, oh unawesome brother of mine~' Prussia sang in mock-falsetto and stood up, pulling the protesting Canada with him. 'Anyway your bunch are all so unawesome, you know what, I'm gonna treat Birdy to lunch instead.' And without further ado, he dragged the sputtering man out of the room.

'Birdy?' Scotland echoed from where he leaned against the blackboard. 'Ouch, that's serious.'

'What? Alistair, what are you doing up there?' England hissed.

'Reporting.'

'Reporting? What do you think I'm here for? You don't have to report anything, that's my job! You've forgotten that already or what?!'

'No, of course not, brother.' Scotland said serenely. 'I'm still in the prime of my live, thanks. No chance for Alzheimer. Certain people, on the contrary, I'm not so sure...' He grinned, holding up a DVD.

'Al? Did you-' One part of Ire & Ire shouted.

'-Recorded them-'

'-After all? I know you-'

'- Had it in you!' That had been unison. England covered his ears, groaning.

And Wales rolled his eyes at them. Germany seemed slightly as if he suddenly got an unwelcome reminder of something he'd liked to forget, very much so.

'What recording?' Belgium asked.

'What you're all here for, of course. Come on, admit it~' Scotland grinned smugly. 'Ya know, the days before Sylvester I had a very interesting encounter. I just had to film it, can't have ya all think I'm bullshiting you.'

'For Gods sake!' England growled. 'Get to the point.'

'What, you mad, bro?' Scotland asked innocently.

'Alistair...'

'Aye aye Captain. Yours truly went shopping for our New Years party, I mean, can't have you kiddos play around with the fireworks and all that. So as the responsible big bro I am-'

'I resent that.'

'-Shut up, Morgan, It's story time and I'M reading to the brats, not you.'

'ALISTAIR!'

'Jeez, can't a guy have some fun here?' Scotland rolled his eyes. 'Whatever. So shit happened and then I turn a corner and what do I see? Our two wayward anarchists raided your beloved Magical Community and you hadn't had the slightest~ At all."

'WHAT?' England jumped up, red in the face. 'How- When?' He sputtered, gesturing wildly. 'WHY?!'

'Oh, something about an international smuggler ring, I believe.' Scotland shrugged uncaring. 'Now, do you want to watch this, or not?'

That was not something anyone in the round had to mull over.

'What are they doing to my harbor?' England said faintly some minutes later.

On the screen the two embodiments of the United States (…) were midway through with demolishing a hideout loaded with smuggled goods, and enjoyed doing so. Then, Scotland was seen for a second, or more his boots. Something clicked and the picture got a bit sharper.

'...are you recording this?' Alfred had apparently noticed the camera in the redhead's hands.

'Yup!' They heard Scotland's voice. 'Gotta show these blockheads some evidence, after all! Or would you believe it if I told you I've see Belarus and France going shopping together?'

Several of the occupants of the room flinched; France seemed torn between interest and fear, which showed on his face. (Eventually, the interest won.) England narrowed his eyes at him. France stared back, smiling innocently.

England punched him.

Meanwhile on the screen, Alfred dropped what he had in hand, shrieked, and hid behind the next thing in reach (Ivan). 'ARE YOU INSANE?! DON'T-'

'-MENTION THAT NAME!' Ivan ended terrified, sending paranoid glances left and right before searching every corner.

'Right.' Austria commented. 'Are you?'

Scotland shrugged.

'And they?' The brunet asked while the scene changed, going from a ratty harbor scene to the eerie streets without name that made up the labyrinth behind Knockturn alley.

'I'm pretty much confident.'

'So, that would be all, da?' Ivan's serene voice was heard out of the speaker. He checked off something on a list once he tossed another undefined item onto a pile. Alfred strolled over to him, languidly.

'Already?' He snatched the list out of the others hand and skipped through the pages. Ivan shrugged, and in contrary snatched the cig out of Alfred's mouth which was met with weak protest.

'You still have that thing on?' He questioned somebody behind the watcher's viewpoint, inhaling deeply.

'I think Wales likes a laugh once a while...when are you two coming out anyway?'

'Some when next month.' Alfred said distracted. 'If all goes as planned, at least.'

'Wait a second." France exclaimed blankly, absently stroking his lover's cheek who'd fainted mere seconds ago. 'You know about this beforehand?!'

'Duh.'

On the screen Alfred had come near to the camera, his face in full view for a second. The expression in his eyes was plain bloodcurdling, for a lack of better words. '...But I do hope for you that this won't- '

'- land on our bosses' desk one of these days.' Ivan finished from his position somewhere out of the picture. 'Or ever, for that matter.'

'Ey, easy there!' Scotland's amusement was clear in his voice, despite the dire death threats aimed at his person. 'Maybe I'll hand it over to the club, though, but only maybe~'

Ivan blinked, and then laughed uproariously.

'What?'

'Nothing...just imagined Iggy's face, that's all.' In the background, they heard Alfred's maniacal cackling.

France gulped. 'They…they finally lost it, didn't they? Alistair, you can tell me the truth. They did, right?' He stammered, horrified. 'My poor Amerique…'

Scotland only smirked. 'Quite the opposite, Francis, And anyway, they seemed to enjoy themselves so I don't see how it maters even if they did.' As if to prove his words the persons in question indeed progressed to have the time of their lives during the next minutes. On the contrary, the mood in the meeting room worsened from simple dismay to doom in no time.

Austria was quietly muttering under his breath, something they hadn't seen him doing since the Napoleon wars.

'Who would have thought?' Spain, calm as one could be, scratched his chin. 'So they're the dream team made in hell, ought to make our life feel like said realm. Joy.'

Germany shot him a glance, strangely apathetic. 'I could have very well lived my remaining days without that comment.'

'It was a pleasure.' The southern country replied smoothly. The sound of gunshots, shortly followed by the distinctive sound of a chainsaw put an end to any further conversation, seeing as they all became witness of America once more chasing after a bunch of security guards that were so unfortunate to have crossed their path. Ivan was laughing in the background, clutching his sides.

"Mein Gott…"

Yup.