[I don't have an exact setting, but somewhere in America]
"Why do you think this job is suitable for you?" asked the dirty blonde man who greedily chomped in his burger.
You waited, wondering if he is going to pay attention to your answer or not. He looks up from his meal after a few seconds of silence and you awkwardly adjust your chair. In previous interviews, usually they were conducted in the building you might be employed in, but it greatly confused you when Alfred Jones requested to meet in a McDonalds.
"Oh, I enjoy organizing files," you repeat the requirements on the resume, although there wasn't much. "I'm willing to stay over night when needed, and I can multi-task if ne-"
He gulps down his burger and extends his hand out, "GREAT! You're hired!"
You stare at his hand, "Wha-What? Really? What about the other applicants?" He returns a confused look, "Everyone else who applied?" You had little doubt you would get a call concerning this job since it gave a surprisingly high amount of pay for sitting at a desk and arranging documents, files. And, that you hardly had much job experience.
"Oh, once I saw someone applied I took the application down!"
That's not how it works. But that means...
"So I really got the job?" you bounce a little with excitement.
"Ah, right! I'm supposed to ask if you can drive?"
You stop bouncing, "Yes, sir!"
He crumples the burger wrappers, "All right! Go to this building at four today!" He shoves his hand in his jacket to pick out a drawn map and a list. A long list, "Stop by these places to pick up some beverages, please before you come to the building! I know it's a lot..." You gape at the amount of names and detail of drinks varying from tea to coffee, "You think you can handle it? As your first task?"
"Uhm, ye-yes!"
"Great! See you in an hour," he grabs your hand for a quick shake and rushes out the door. You then realize it was almost three o'clock and scurry out to your car while locating the stores on your phone.
...
The difficult part of the task was driving carefully for the drinks not to spill. You deeply sigh with relief and feel accomplished as you parallel parked in front of the conference building with a vintage design, held by columns and standing two stories high. Then, you realize Mr. Jones did not give you the exact location inside the building. "I'll figure it out," as you exit the car you shiver as the winter air hits your face, and struggle to balance about six cup holders in your arms. The sloshing of the liquids made you nervous, especially when the stack limited your vision.
You whimper as you shuffle against the sidewalk to gently close the door when you feel half the weight taken, "Good afternoon." Your eyes travel from the drinks taken from you, to the face of your savior. You shrunk at the tall stranger who wore a long coat, scarf, and had his light blonde hair combed back. "Do you need help?"
What an accent!
"Oh, if it doesn't trouble you, sir!" you blush.
He sighs, "It's okay, one of these is probably mine. It must have been troublesome for you to retrieve these."
"N-No, it's part of my-"
"Ciao Germany!" you both turn to see a cheery brunette man making his way towards you. He motioned to the tall gentleman, but circled around to approach you, "Ciao bella, nice to meet you, I'm Italy! You're so pretty, are you free later? Can I have your-"
The drinks are shoved into his arms, and the remaining cup holders from yours are retrieved by the gentleman. "Excuse my friend, he does not have any manners, miss...?"
"_, I'm basically doing desk work for...Mr. Jones? And, I guess that included errands like these," the three of you start heading up the stairs. You open the door for your helpful companions, "Thank you for carrying the drinks." You peek inside and gaze at the open space where the floors were carpeted red and the chandelier above sparkled. A two way staircase hid your view of whatever is waiting for you at the top.
"No trouble for a bella like you!" chimed Italy. You begin walking on the right staircase, grasping the rails firmly.
"Yes, it's no trouble at all. Oh, my name is Ludwig, miss _, but you can call me Germany." He tenses a smile.
Italy laughs, "Don't be so stiff Germany!" He leans in to your ear, "Sorry, he's a little inexperienced when interacting with bellas."
"Shut it."
As you drew nearer you begin to hear a clamor of different voices, each having a unique accent. You gulp when reaching the top and sigh when seeing it came behind two large rectangular Victorian doors. A small desk with a small vase holding a red rose stood at the side. Papers are stacked at the corner as a single pen rests on the pile. "Well, I guess this is where I work," you motion yourself to the empty wide wooden seat.
"Ciao, bella! I hope I see you after the meeting!" Germany opens the door for him and gives an awkward smile, before the door closed you hear Italy, "France! Was that you who gave the rose? How did you know the assistant would be a girl?"
"I just know," a creeper laugh followed with the statement.
You stare at the rose with caution for five seconds and then began sorting the papers.
...
You regret not bringing any of your books to study as the meeting carried on to their third hour. The documents were mainly complaints from England, or Arthur, first concerning politics to petty things such as the way America spoke or stood during meetings. The first hour you heard the booming voice of America, which was then overpowered by a clamor of various speakers. The crowd was immediately hushed by Germany's exploding yell. That was about the time you finished organizing and wasted an hour walking around the stairs, swinging your legs on your chair and twiddling with the rose. You slump back down on the chair as you hear the doors creak open.
Italy was the first to pop his head out the door and greet you, "Ciao, _!" He leans over the front of your desk close to your face, "How are you?"
You back away nervously blushing, "I-I'm good. What did you you all talk about, the meeting was about three hours long." People of different nationalities exited the door, most unaware of your presence, absorbed in their thoughts or another conversation.
"I have no idea! I slept right in the beginning!" A hand came out of no where and took hold of Italy's shoulder, "Oh, brother France!"
"Bonjour!" his hair was shoulder length, but gracefully flowed as his blonde locks shone in the chandelier's light. He winks and takes your hand, "What a beautiful flower."
"Oh, the rose, yeah, it's very pretty, thank you."
"I wasn't talking about the rose," the edges of your lips twitched as you smiled, since you weren't used to such attention.
Before you could respond he is head locked by a messy haired man, dressed in a formal suit with furry brows. "Bloody hell, can't you control yourself around any woman at any time?! I'm sorry, ma'am, if he offended you in any way."
"None at all," America appeared at your side. "Oh, I organized these complaints by country."
You give England's pile first, "Awesome!" He flips through them, and then dumps it in the trash, "Wow! I'll definitely consider those points!"
"YOU NITWIT I WROTE SPECIFI-" America plugged his ears with his fingers and sang a random song loudly and ran down the stairs as England ran after him along with France.
Italy slyly slipped a napkin in the other complaints, and written on it was "Not enough pasta ):" A man dressed in Japanese clothing shyly placed his complaint neatly above Italy's napkin and bowed. Germany handed in an organized binder and took out a note pad, "Ahem, I'm sure America did not address your duties clearly in your application, so here are a few. You are to keep track of who enters the conference and make sure everyone leaves, as well as locking this door."
"I don't have the-" he places an old looking key on his binder.
"I'll have more errands for you when we meet tomorrow at 8 a.m."
"8 a.m.?" you squeak. "Well, I guess I can skip my language class..."
"You're in college?"
"Part-time student."
"Which language?"
"Italian."
Germany gestures to Italy, "Perfect. I'll also bring a coffee maker and coffee grounds. It'd be more convenient. Good night, I hope you drive home safely."
"Wow, how formal!" Italy watches as you and Germany end with a firm shake. "Ciao, Bella!"
You swing the key ring around with your finger and enter the room to shut the lights. Your eyes traveled along the oval table and the amount of chairs in the room when they pass by a figure. He sat at the way end of the table with his face buried in his arms. As you circle the table slowly, you notice his silver locks and hear soft breathing. As you stood behind him you notice his broad back and shoulders, although it may be just his coat. You extend your hand, take it back when he snorted, and then tried once more. Softly, with a shaking hand you place your hand on his shoulder and move him a little.
No response.
"Hello?" you shake him a little rougher. "Sir, the meeting is ov-" a black gloved hand snatched your hand and the individual rose. His height made you shake as he was taller than Germany and made you look down at your trapped hand. You shut your eyes and gather up courage to strike back with your free hand.
Aim for the neck? Nose? SHIT.
The grip loosened, "Oh," a soft deep voice. You peek and are caught in these violet eyes, and as you stared longer you realize he's actually pretty darn cute. Although the smile does not convince you it sent color to your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't think the meeting would go on for so long that I actually fell asleep."
Oh sure, apologize for sleeping and not scaring the crap out of me.
"It ended a while ago, so everyone left..." he still had hold of your hand and you uncomfortably wriggle it.
"Oh," he let go. He looks one way to scratch his cheek, and then looks back at you, "Who are you?"
I should be asking the same question.
"I'm _. A part-time assistant for America...and you are?"
"Russia," he turns to exit the room and you follow behind after shutting the lights off. One door closed as the other scraped against the ground, you grunt as you pull the handle. The same gloved hand that made you freeze reached over and took a hold of the handle. You react by letting go and backing up...onto his chest. He didn't respond and continued to pull the door shut without displaying any effort. Although you stood between the door and Russia for a few seconds your heart could not stop pounding as he moved towards the stairs. Your hand squeezed the the handle as you steadied your breaths and waited for the sounds of his steps to recede.