Dislcaimer: Hetalia and its characters are not mine. If they were, then the FrUk vs. UsUk debated would've ended a while ago, with UsUk victorious. /shot by angered FrUk fan girl/boy

Chewing happily on a large bite of a Big Mac and a mouthful of fries, America sat in the back of the McDonald's restaurant, savoring the relative peace and privacy of the isolated area as well as the saltiness of the fries that complimented the juicy deliciousness of the cheeseburger. It was his third burger and second order of large fries in six minutes, and he had meant to just use McDonald's as a workplace to finish his paperwork (he hated working in his own office; it was just too forcefully reclusive, unlike the fast food chain) but he was already starting to unwind and let the quietness of the restaurant calm his nerves.

Although he didn't seem like the type of man to like quiet areas, America really did enjoy the occasional solitude as long as it wasn't forced or anything. It was definitely a godsend after a stressful day at the world meeting or the meeting with the boss, both of them seeming pointless and unfruitful to America. Really, all the boss ever did in those private meetings was grind his balls about not having the report on the nation's educational system in on time, and calling him a mindless glutton who can't focus two seconds without thinking about food. The other countries tend to just split up and go crazy, having side arguments, forming secret alliances, napping (mostly Greece) tussling with each other, and all sorts of insanity that sent the conference room into a disorderly frenzy.

America sighed in content after finishing his Big Mac and fries, crumpling the cartons they came in and placing them far away on the table from the files he brought with him. He wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin and sucked in some of his milkshake before opening the file folder the paperwork came in. His eyes skimmed the first page for a few moments before they wandered involuntarily to the pile of burgers and cartons of fries. At that instant, a voice sounded in his head:

"America, you fat Dumkopft!" Germany's voice barked. "With the way you're eating, you're going to send yourself into an early grave and your citizens into a national extinction! I swear, if I had known that you Americans would get addicted to this, I would've never allowed my people to make it!"

America reached for another burger, slowly pulling back the carton's top. He looked at the burger with disgust.

"Wow, America, another one?" China scoffed as he walked by and noticed America with another burger. "Isn't your ass fat enough without shoving that grotesque excuse for food down your diabetic throat?"

America brought the warm burger to his mouth and took a large bite out of it, coupling it with a few French fries.

"Wow, mon chubby pal, it's no wonder your head is so big; it needs to be proportional to that unflattering waistline of yours!" France chuckled snidely behind his rose.

America felt his eyebrows scrunch together in concentration as he crushed the beef, cheese, tomatoes, and lettuce into an edible mulch before swallowing it. He quickly followed with another bite and more fries.

"America-san, it isn't right to simply sit around all day and shovel down so much food! And at one sitting, too! It makes me ashamed that my army of long ago lost to someone like this!"

America wolfed down a handful of fries and tersely wiped his lips with another napkin, pretending to not notice the stares coming his way from other patrons, many of them looking his way with obvious disgust. He closed his eyes and tuned out the heavy silence to focus as much of his senses and concentration on the delicious fries in his mouth. He chomped on the burger greedily.

"America, you flabby git," England sighed. "I can't believe I raised such an unrefined, uncontrollable swine…"

America choked on the burger, coughing and hacking to bring it back up from his windpipe. He took out another napkin and brought it to his face to make it seem like he was using it to wipe his mouth and spit the burger in it so that the patrons watching wouldn't know that he was wiping away tears. After the burger went down his throat roughly and the milkshake's coolness soothed the soreness afterwards, America sat back in his bench tiredly, hanging his head back and laying his arm across his eyes. He didn't feel like writing reports at that time. He didn't feel like finishing up the fries before they got cold. He didn't want to look at that disgusting pile of garbage in front of him.

He felt a tap on his arm and peeked from underneath it to find a McDonald's worker looking down on him with such concerned eyes.

"Hey, dude, you okay?" The worker asked, leaning on his broom.

"Heh, yeah, I'm cool," America said as he brought his arm away from his eyes.

"Good. Hey, you should slow down on the eating, man," the worker chuckled . "That stuff ain't going anywhere."

"Heh heh, yeah," America feigned a chuckled as the worker went back to sweeping the tiles. He looked at the pile of burgers and fries sitting in front of him and reached for another burger…