A/N: Okay, yo, hey. Of course I felt the need to infiltrate even your most sacred grounds. But, this was intended to be chapter-y, so chapter-y it shall be.

ALSO: For general info, see my profile, please. (I put stuff there so I wouldn't have to put it on everything I do ever.) Also, I believe now is when I give the constant "DON'T LIKE DON'T READ" slogan. Heed this, please.

I.

Today was turning out to be a terrible day. First, Russia had woken up much too late, and with all the symptoms of a hangover. This was annoying; he was certain he didn't drink that much last night. Or, at the very least, not enough to warrant this. Second, since he woke up so late, he didn't have time to shower or have breakfast. Russia wasn't so bothered about having to skip a shower (it wasn't like he needed to, and it was better to conserve water. Right?), but he wasn't so thrilled about skipping breakfast. It was probably better this way, however, since he'd reached his third problem: finding pants that fit. He couldn't wear the pants he wore every day to the world meeting, but his Meeting Pants were... a bit too tight. After a few precious minutes of struggling, he finally managed to button them. He was more than a little uncomfortable, but there wasn't much he could do at this point. The meeting was in the city and started in...ten minutes. It took at least thirty to get there on a good day. As stated before, today was not one of those days. In fact, as it turned out, he'd be lucky to get there in the first hour, because problem number four made itself apparent: his car wouldn't start. Russia didn't have time to think about why or how to fix it, just that he needed to get to the meeting and how could he get there when his car wouldn't work. It was unlikely that someone would come get him, the buses didn't run out here, and it would take forever for a taxi to come. His only option, it seemed, was to walk.

Luckily for Russia, after walking for a good long while he managed to find a bus heading in the general direction he was and arrived at the meeting only an hour and a half late. When he walked into the room, Germany looked like he was going to say something but decided not to. No one else said anything, either. This was just fine with Russia, who found a seat and started taking notes.

He looked at his watch. Only two more hours until lunch. He could make it.

His stomach growled. Oh. Only two more hours until lunch. He knew he'd gone much longer without food, but he also knew how terrible those times had been. His stomach growled again, louder and longer, and he blushed when America turned around to give him a nasty smirk. He wasn't really in the mood for fighting, and did his best to concentrate only on his notes, especially as his stomach growled again. This was going to be a long two hours.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, it was time for lunch. The nations had an hour to do what they wanted. Some went off to do their own thing within the building and city, though most went to the cafeteria. Russia followed along, piling his plate high with foods from the Slavic, French, Chinese, and Italian tables. He knew this wouldn't help his weight problem and that the other countries were (probably) staring and snickering at him, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care. That was for later. Now was for eating.

About halfway through with his meal he started to reach a comfortable fullness. He wouldn't stop until his plate was empty (because it was a waste of food and rude otherwise), but...his pants, already painfully tight, were beginning to dig into his stomach. He wanted to unbutton them, but there were people around! Perhaps...he should go to the bathroom and do it there. Yes.

Standing up proved to be rather uncomfortable as well, and walking had it's own level of discomfort. He finally got to the bathroom, and slipped into the handicapped stall. It was embarrassing to do in to open – what if someone walked in?!

Russia took off his coat, pulled up his shirt (which had already been rolling up a bit), reached under his belly, and unbuttoned his pants. They unzipped themselves, and he just left them that way. He held his pants up using just his belt, which, regretfully, was on the last loop. His coat was long enough to cover it, so he wouldn't worry about it just now. As he left, he checked himself in the mirror. He certainly didn't look his best, but it was good enough.

Just as Russia finished his lunch (with a few minutes to go), a tray full of food from the Germanic table slammed down across from him.

"Hey, fatass, did you like your first chin so much you decided to grow two more?"

Before he could stop it, his hand flew to his chin. He only had one! He'd made sure of that in the bathroom. Sure, it was probably a lot fleshier than it should have been, and kind of looked like two sometimes, but...lots of people's chins did that!

After he'd recovered, he looked up to see who had spoken. "Gilbert."

Gilbert, who was currently gasping for breath, pounding on the table, and shoving food into his mouth all at the same time, managed to choke out, "Your face!. Mein Gott, if my camera still worked, your face would be all over my blog!"

Russia had two options. He could break Prussia in half right now, or he could be personable and friendly like his boss sometimes asked. True, Prussia wasn't really a country anymore, but he was linked to Germany. There was no doubt that whatever Russia did to Prussia, his brother would take as a personal attack. He should really try to be polite. "Why did your camera break," he asked, without any actual interest or tonal inflictions.

"Eh, I dropped it in a mug of beer last night. Dunno why, I wasn't really using it... What, do want some?"

Russia had been staring at Prussia's mouth, wondering how it could do so many things at once; he was pretty sure Prussia wasn't breathing, and talking as he swallowed. At the question, he shook his head and placed a hand on his stomach. "Ah...I believe I've already had too much."

Prussia waved off Russia's answer and shoveled some food onto his plate. "You're already so big, what's a bit more going to do? I don't think I have time to finish without help."

Russia was fairly certain that was another jab at his weight, but Prussia was right. There wasn't much time left. The cafeteria was nearly empty, and he should really head back, but...he couldn't turn down food. He'd lived through enough famines and food shortages to learn that turning down offered food was not a thing one did. So, despite his already moderately uncomfortable fullness, he ate. "Why are you here?"

"My brother and I went out for lunch, and I decided to follow him back here, to see what you all were up to. Everyone was at lunch, so I thought, 'Why not?'"

Finished, Russia leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. He really was far too full, and wished he could loosen his belt a few notches. It and the teeth of his zipper were digging uncomfortably into the flesh of his belly. "Why did you sit with me? Weren't France and Spain here?"

Prussia shrugged. "Everyone else was leaving. Besides, you look like a fatass eating this much alone."

Again with the weight. Russia knew he wasn't thin, but did they really have to rub it in constantly? More importantly, everyone was gone?A quick survey of the room showed that yes, everyone else was gone. A time check showed the meeting started five minutes ago. Shit. Russia stood up and gathered his things. This was the second time he was late today, in a meeting in his own country. This was beyond embarrassing. He turned to leave, but being friendly and polite meant saying good-bye, right? Even if he didn't particularly care for the person. Well. It didn't mean he'd have to be nice. "I have to go thank you for the food good-bye." He spoke as if he were reading it off a teleprompter, and with no emotion at all.

"Hey, wait! Why bother going back? You're already late. West told me you were late this morning, too. What's it even matter? It can't be that important."

Looking back at Prussia, he looked absolutely pathetic. Pale, scrawny (how could he stay so thin, eating two lunches?), and forlorn, though he was trying hard to cover that up. Russia felt kind of bad leaving him like this, but he really needed to get back. "I have to go to a meeting in my own country. It's bad manners not to. But...perhaps, if you want, you can come to my house later. For dinner."

Russia knew Prussia wasn't exactly fond of him, either, so he was more than surprised when Prussia shrugged and said, "Why the hell not. Guess I'll see you later, then?"

Russia nodded and quickly left, not thrilled to be stared at again for being late.