France couldn't believe his pretty little ears. Did he correctly hear what that pompous over-zealous American said? Were the words coming from those grease-caked lips true? No, no, they most certainly cannot be. Of course they weren't. It was just a joke, a little something that that idiotic youth blurted out to give the dashing Frenchman a heart attack. Any second now, that dumb American will laugh, wave a hand in dismissal, and comment on how hilarious France's look of utter fear was--
"C'mon, dontcha agree that it's, like, an ingenious idea? I mean, really, two of the best things in the world," two gloved fingers were raised to emphasize, "together in the same place. It just kicks ass, don't it?"
Crash and burn.
Suddenly, the comforting bustle of Le Carrousel du Louvre was gone, replaced with the unmistakable muted commotion of disaster. Deep blue eyes, usually twinkling with the desire to do vile things behind closed doors, were glazed in horror. The mouth that should be murmuring dirty words of romance was instead hanging open in disbelief, not a sound creeping through his normally-puckered lips. Instead of feeling up the leg of his frienemy's former colony, his fingers were held over his gaping mouth, the digits twitching slightly. If he wasn't the picture of a kicked (and thrown and beaten) puppy, then nothing was. And either America was ignoring the depressing picture in front of him or he truly was that oblivious.
Instead, he continued to bug and push for some sort of response. "So, so, how 'bout it, Frankie? It's great, innit? Think of the business you'd really get from it. That, and I'd actually have a reason to visit the Musy di L'whatever." If possible, America's smile grew wider.
France couldn't even bring himself to correct the American's butchering of the Musée du Louvre's name. His heart had already been shattered moments before.
His large hand floated from its position over his mouth down to his chest, where he clutched his shirt over where his heart was. Finally, France was able to find his voice. "S-Surely you jest, mon ami l'Amérique. You really aren't...proposing..."
"Proposing?" A hearty laugh dared to erupt from America's lungs. "Francis, my friend. It's already in the works! Within a matter of time, the beautiful golden arch of McDonald's will finally grace its presence here in this Carousel place." It was obvious that he had more to say, judging from the deep breath he took, but France didn't want to hear any more of this blasphemy. He was instantly on his feet, the table shuttering from the force of his hands slamming on its surface.
"Surely. You. Jest," he wheezed out, ignoring the looks he was receiving from tourists and fellow French citizens alike. "You most certainly are not defacing my lovely Louvre with your hick excuse for a restaurant!"
America's brow furrowed and the edges of his mouth sunk into a deep frown that was the picture of sheer befuddlement. He didn't seem the least bit offended by France's outburst. "What're you talking about? It's not like this is your first amazing American restaurant or anything. You've got a ton more of them all over the place."
Yes, and I cannot believe I let such a disgrace in culinary arts scar the beautiful face of my country France added mentally.
"And besides," America shrugged and his face softened into an expression of nonchalance, "it's not like everyone's gonna be able to afford lunch after coming here, with all the bucks they're gonna waste already on tickets for getting in the museum and for the metro and what have you. Think about it - five bucks for a Big Mac value meal and they're good for the rest of the day. In turn, with all the people taking advantage of this deal, McDonald's will turn into a real good asset to this place. See, everyone wins!" That God-forsaken smile was back on the American's face.
The thought of Mona Lisa's virgin eyes being spoiled by the image of disgusting overweight tourists munching on greasy fast food burgers made France want to cry. Da Vinci and Michelangelo must be weeping in their graves.
"I do not approve of this," France said bluntly, his fingers migrating to his temple. A new emotion accompanied his shock and anguish - anger. He couldn't believe this daft America infiltrated the sacred grounds of the finest art museum in the world. Italy would most certainly be crushed once he discovered that the home of his beautiful paintings was to be tainted by deep-fried grease and excessive cholesterol and - dare he say it? - French fries. Oh, the poor boy; not even Germany serving him pasta cooked with the finest ingredients would ease his woes.
"It doesn't matter if you approve or not, it's happening anyway...wait, where are you going?" America stood up when France swiftly turned on his heel and marched away. "I'm not even done telling you my plans! On the opening day, someone is gonna be dressed as Ronald McDonald and is gonna walk around convincing people to check it out!"
The response he received was a choked and passionate sob.
A little thing I wrote on the livejournal kink meme ages ago. Thought it was about time I submitted it. C: