It's really no surprise to anyone that they would get absolutely nothing done at this meeting. It was held in Austin in the summer, and the air conditioning was either bent on making snow feathers on the windows or non-existent depending on which room you were in. Other than that and the fact that Texas was going to America's head and giving him an incurable southern accent, the meeting morning fairly predictably. Sealand was banished to the Phony Nations' Table, Italy took a nap, and everyone forgot Canada until Germany called it quits and ordered a lunch break.

And that's where it all went to hell.

America inevitably sought out England in the cafeteria of the office building where their meeting was held. The cafeteria seemed more like a food court to England, and told America as much.

"Really, why would you need a McDonald's indoors in an office building?"

"'Cuz it's hot as all the fuck outside, an' ain't another one here for awhile," was the reply. Oh yeah. England thought. That accent. Fuck. America didn't talk for a bit. There were more pressing matters at hand. (A Big Mac if you were wondering.)

All of a sudden, America slammed down his food. "AW YEAH! Shit, Iggy, I almos' forgot. Y'know the new Les Mis movie's comin' out, the new one, right?" England nodded. "Y'all wanna come see it with me tonight?"

It might have been the bastardized English, but England said, "No, thanks."

America's face fell. "What?"

"I said, No, thank you."

"Are ya kiddin'? It's the best! Why not?"

England shrugged. "I don't know. You've seen it once, you've seen it a thousand times." Here America made a pained noise. England tilted his head. "Unless, of course, it's The Phantom of the Opera. That is the best musical ever created."

America laughed, then, seeing England face, faltered and blinked. "What, yer serious?" England nodded. "Not- not Les Mis?"

"No"

"Les Miserables!"

"No. Phantom of the Opera is better."

America slammed his hands down on the table and stood up. "Les Mis!"

England shot up as well. "Phantom!"

There was a pause.

"We're taking it to the board." America declared.

***Paris is Truly Splendid***

" But Both Valjean and Javert are victims of the lives they chose for themselves. Very telling of the human experience!" Hungary said.

"Ha!" America gloated, placing another tally on his side of the white board.

England glared. He was losing. This couldn't happen. "Italy what about you?"

"I can't possibly vote against opera!" England marked him up under "Phantom."

"Ya'll've betrayed me."

"By voting for the superior musical?"

"I'm beatin' you. Swiss? Yer vote?"

"No comment."

"Poland?"

"Are you kidding? Andrew Lloyd Webber is, like, awesome!"

"Point for Phantom!"

America growled. Then said "Canada!"

"How come you only remember me when you need to make a point?" Canada mumbled.

"Yeah yeah yeah. What's yer vote?"

Canada thought for a minute. "Les Mis."

"I will vote for that, too." Japan piped up.

"Ahaha! Yeah! Les Mis! Freedom, bitch." America marked two points for Les Mis.

"Shut it you."

"This is such a waste of time." Germany said.

"Uhh," England scanned the room for a country who hadn't given their opinion yet. "Belarus?"

"I will vote for whatever big brother does," she replied. All eyes turned to Russia, who, incidentally, was on the other side of the room."

"I personally like Phantom of the Opera better," he said.

"No you don't," Estonia pointed out, "you just want to contradict America."

"It counts," England said quickly.

"Spain?"

"Phantom of the Opera."

"Taiwan?"

"Les Mis!"

"Lichtenstein?"

"Um…Phantom of the Opera?"

"Monaco?"

"Phantom of the Opera."

"I like Les Mis better!"

"Get out of here, Sealand!"

"Nah, let 'im vote."

"Wanker. Norway?"

"Phantom."

"France?"

"They are both set in Paris, mon ami."

One by one the nations realized that they had just spent the better part of an hour discussing how France was awesome. England promptly turned around and silently began erasing the marks on the board. America followed suit.

No one ever spoke of it again.