A/N: Yup. It's about the Olympics. I was wondering what it be like it all the countries were watching this, and thus: this was born! It's just something I wrote on a whim. I thought it was funny. Here it is!

England rubbed his temples in agitation, a headache already pounding its way across his forehead. What in the bloody blazes had his people been up to? All that banging and pounding and lights were quiet unnecessary, in his opinion. Yes, the Olympics were a time to show off, but that didn't mean he had to blow everyone's eardrums.

Although, the idea of getting his eardrums blown didn't sound that appalling when sitting next to a certain American.

"Dude, what was that?" America laughed, pointing to the arena as the hundreds of hospital beds were wheeled away. "Why would you put those in there?"

"We're proud of our health care, unlike some other's I know," England snapped, shooting the other a disgruntled glare.

"I thought it was very creative, Angleterre," France told him, leaning closer to the Brit. "I love it already."

England shook off the shiver that the Frenchman's purred words sent down his spine and sat back in his chair. He crossed his arms and huffed. Of course it was creative. He wasn't the bloody United Kingdom of Greta Britain and Northern Ireland for nothing. Just because he was getting older didn't mean he was dull and daft. In fact, it made him more empowered to show off his ability and prowess. And his people were doing a fine job of it. If not a noisy one.

"I liked it when the Queen jumped from the helicopter," Italy added, clapping as the next part of the show began.

"That wasn't the real Queen, bastard," Romano scoffed. Italy 've'ed' a question and his southern brother jumped to his feet, fists raised.

"Germany, save me!" Italy shrieked. He jumped over the back of his chair to get to the German, where he cowered in the seat next to the strong blond.

"Come here, Lovi~ It's okay," Spain cooed. He spread his arms as a smile spread across his face, ready to embrace the steaming Italian.

"Never, asshole!" he snarled and plopped back into his seat. He had to shove the Spaniard away with his fists several times before he got the message. Spain sat back down and turned to France, a small frown on his lips.

"He still does not like me, amigo," he sighed.

"Because you are using the wrong tactics," the Frenchman tsked. "Here, let me tell you a much better way to gain his love~"

England's hands curled into tight fists and he turned his steely gaze from America to France. "I don't want to hear about your perverse methods of attraction and I am too much of a gentleman to punch you in my own Olympics hosting, especially with the Queen here, though I wish to so bleeding much. Take it else where, frog."

"You wound me." Despite the sorrow in his words, France smirked. England snorted and turned away, trying to tune out his fevered whispers and Spain's chuckles.

"You call yourself a gentleman?" America laughed. "Dude, if you used to wear that in the seventies, you're not gentleman. Ever."

"Don't forget you used to dress like that too, lad. Think before you speak."

"At least I pulled it off better," the blond muttered and went back to watching the opening ceremonies.

England settled back in his chair to watch the rest unfold as well. Though the last part of the show before the parade was, he had to admit, a bit freaky, he couldn't say that he didn't like it. Every single person who made this production had put their heart and souls into creating this masterpiece, and he was proud of it. What did it matter that other people thought differently? They weren't the United Kingdom, now where they?

"I have to admit, it was well done," France said, standing up along the thousands of others as the arena went dark to signal the end of the opening ceremonies.

"It was fun!" Italy cheered once again, before dragging Germany away to find a bathroom.

"Da. Very fun. Very interesting." England shuddered as he spotted Russia peeking over the row of seats in front of him. "Belarus has left now, da?"

"She's gone," Ukraine answered. "We should go find our places before she tries to search for you amongst the teams." Russia nodded and followed his older sister, much to the Baltics' relief, out of the stands.

"Hey, someone wake Greece up," America said, already making his way down to the field.

Japan walked around the mobs of people; shoulder stiff and mumbling stuttered apologies. He shook Greece's shoulder and led him away, tiring to find a route well away from Turkey.

England watched those countries around him, as well as those on the other side of the stands, as they made their way down to the field to collect their teams. He smiled. It would be rude of him to jump up and down in glee at how well the show had been made and shout out how happy he was that he was once again hosting the Olympics. That was very ungentlemanly-like.

But he could still smile smugly at everyone he passed.

Canada blinked. America wasn't sitting next to him. It looked like Cuba had stepped away as well. Now that he was looking, he couldn't find anyone he knew in the seats next to him.

"Maple, they forgot about me again, didn't they?"

"Who are you?"

Canada glanced down at the bear in his arms. "I'm Canada, Kumagaro. The one every one forgets."

"Who?

"Exactly. Let's go find our team."