A/N: I've been wanting to post this for a while, but I couldn't think of a good ending for it XD... I hope you like it :3!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia... Or McDonalds... Or IHOP... If I did, I would never starve and I would never be bored :D.

It's been a long day... Canada thought as he pulled into the drive through at... shudder... McDonalds. He would have much rather gone to IHOP. The only problem was that he didn't know where the IHOP was, and he sure as hell didn't feel like driving around trying to find it after the day he had.

America had insisted that the meeting be held at his place. After the usual idiotic ramblings of Alfred (which were annoying enough to make a mime want to scream... Seriously, ask France.) it had only gotten worse.

Arthur had brought scones, which made Italy cry. Russia had tried to "convince" him to "become one", which made Belarus chase him with a butcher knife. France tried to rape him, Sweden sat on him by accident, Switzerland shot at him, and Hungary tried to make him do... bad things... with Austria...

The end result of such a day: One very stressed out Canadian with a headache that even ibuprofen wouldn't get rid of. He was hungry, he wanted to go home and he wanted to sleep. And he wanted to do so as quickly as possible.

Therefore, Canada was eating at McDonalds instead of IHOP. When it was his turn, he pulled up to the little speaker and waited for someone to take his order...

"Welcome to fucking McDonalds! Would you like to try a motherfuckin' brownie melt today?" said the loud and obnoxious voice coming from the tiny intercom.

That voice... Oh shit... Not today...

Matthew took a deep breath to calm himself (read: to keep himself from screaming).

"Prussia... Why are you...? Um... Do you work here now?" Canada asked, a bit nervous, and more than a bit agitated.

"You didn't answer my question~!" Prussia said in a somewhat out of character singsong voice.

"Ugh... Fine! No, Prussia, I don't want a brownie mel-"

"Are you sure? They're some tasty little bastards!"

"Yes! I'm sure! I just want a chicken sandwich and something to drink-"

"Chicken sandwich? Do you mean a 'McChicken'?"

"Yes! Whatever! Just-"

"Say it."

"Argh! Damn it Prussia! Yes! I want a fucking 'McChicken' or whatever it's called!"

"That's better. Now, what do you want to drink?"

"Just water... Medium... Can I pull up now?"

"Wait! One more thing!"

"... What is it?"

"Your sandwich… Would you like that with or without an extra thick gob of snot?"

"I swear, Gil! If you spit on my damned sandwich I will never make you pancakes again!"

"Fresh semen?"

"What?"

"Nothing..."

"I could've sworn that you just said-"

"Kesesese~! Okay, without. Got it! Pull the fuck up to the first fuckin' window!"

Canada did as he was told. In fact, he couldn't pull up fast enough. He wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. He paid the woman at the first window, and then pulled up to the second.

"One 'McChicken', without bodily fluids, and a medium water! Thank you and have an awesome damned day! Oh, and I'll be by for some pancakes later tonight... Now get the fuck out of here! Kesesesesesese~!"

Matthew gave Gilbert the finger before pulling out of the drive through as fast as possible without getting himself arrested.

Gilbert chuckled to himself. Matthew had said that he wouldn't make him pancakes anymore if he spit on his sandwich… He didn't say that Gilbert couldn't spit in his drink.