A/N: If you're an Earthbound reader of mine, I'm really sorry that this isn't the next installment of The Universe Will Die Without You! Luckily, I have already started writing it.
This is just something really stupid/silly that popped in my head when I ran into a fanart picture of America and Russia eating breakfast together. There's no plot to this, but I think a lot of funny little things can happen in little moments like these, so I kinda drabbled about it. I may or may not continue this. If you do think I should continue, please leave a review! I kinda tortured England in this.
But anyways, I'm giving some credit to that artist that inspired this. : ) Hope you enjoy if you read!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, durhur, cept for my own writing.
~The Breakfast Table~
The house was always the busiest in the morning. Well technically, it wasn't really a house; it was an old hostel, three stories high with multiple bed rooms upstairs. The floors and walls were all made of aging oak and wood, and the kitchen on the first floor had black and white checkered tile flooring. It was very vintage, almost Victorian, blending in well in downtown San Francisco. But half of the time, not many people were there all at once during the day, everyone had their own lives.
So what better time to all gather together than at the time of breakfast?
France had woken up long before everyone in the house/old hostel that day at 7:03 am. He was smirking to himself, as he opened up the curtains to let the morning light shine through. He made a jar of French roast in the coffee mate machine, all the while preparing his French toast on the stove. Francis didn't always have French every morning, but he did when he was feeling damn good about something. And the smell of that good strong coffee was like a big pack of nicotine sticks up the nose, making him feeling even more fucking amazing.
"Good morning, Francis," Ivan's calm voice spoke as he walked down the stairs, wearing a blue button down shirt, black slacks and his signature scarf, though this time it was lavender, with hand-made embroidery work on it. It was a girly scarf all on its own, but Ivan could pull off its look better than any girls on the block. It didn't matter if it was summer or winter; Ivan always wore the damn thing. It made him look even cooler than he already was. And the vodka in his hand amplified that to plus twenty-five hundred levels. Not even gameshark could handle the sheer epicness. Ivan smiled as his violet eyes met the breakfast table, eying the vase of sunflowers. He loved those things.
"Why good morning, Russia. You're up early," France said, waving to him. Russia yawned.
"Early shift this morning. Did you get the paper?"
"No, I haven't gotten it yet, I was about to though," France responded, placing the pot of coffee on the breakfast table, placing a couple mugs.
"Ah, don't worry about it, I'll go get it," Russia responded, walking towards the door. Francis flipped the bacon and sausages before taking in its smell. It was then that he heard the sound of a groan in the background. Francis immediately smiled darkly to himself.
"Hangover again, oui?" France asked; smirk still plastered on his face as he twirled around while playing with his blond hair with his left index finger.
There slowly coming down the stairs while holding the wall for dear life was Arthur. England. He was out of it.
"Need help sitting down, mon cheri?" He asked. All Arthur could do was groan.
"I feel like I've been hit in the head by an elephant," England barely mumbled; looking forward to the nearest chair. France laughed.
"You might have been hit somewhere else by something else, but not in the head by an elephant," Francis replied calmly. There was a pause.
"Huh…?" England asked.
"Who?" Francis responded.
"Whatever." England let go of the wall before tumbling to the ground with a thud. After a moment of pause, he still just lied there face down, bearing the sheer pain that just caused him to his head. It was around this time that Francis could have sworn that he heard a yell coming from both outside and from inside the old hostel. Despite, Francis chuckled happily, helping Arthur into his seat.
"You know, it's best not to push yourself during a hangover, why don't you go back to sleep, mmm?" France asked. England leaned over, supporting his skull; keeping his eyes closed.
"No… gotta get… up," He responded. A tinge of guilt passed through Francis, just slightly. Oops. Oh well. It was then that Russia finally came back inside through the front door, paper in one arm and a bottle of sweet-pea-scented body wash in the other hand. His smile was slightly brighter than usual.
"That took a while," Francis noted. "And you look even happier than you did when you walked outside," Francis spoke enthusiastically. Russia took the pot of French roast off the coffee table before sitting down. It took a moment, but Russia pressed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose. He blinked, but happily smiled up to Francis as he placed the bottle of body wash on the table.
"Oh, Alfred was taking a shower on the third floor," He replied calmly. It was then that they heard another anonymous yelling from above.
"LEAVE MY VIRGINITY ALONE YOU FUCKING RUSSIAN SPY!" The ever so anonymous voice yelled randomly. Francis flashed Ivan an "oh you" expression. Russia got the idea immediately as he shrugged happily, his expression reading, "well what can I say?"
When England finally managed to actually sit at the table, he slowly but surely lowered his head to the surface, before bringing his hands up to slowly hold it.
"Morning, England," Russia said happily, as he poured himself a cup of Joe. England slowly looked up to Ivan, but inwardly cringing as he saw him pull out a small bottle of vodka to pour in his mug. England made a small strangled noise as he watched Russia sip the vodka- invaded coffee while opening up the morning paper like it was No Fucking Deal at all.
Alfred, dressed in ridiculous lime green pajama pants and a red plaid button down shirt, came dashing down the stairs, but stalling as he saw Ivan at the table. He quickly disguised his flustered state by focusing his attention on Arthur. He forcefully patted the back of his head.
"MORNING ARTHUR, YOU'RE UP EARLY," America spoke loudly. England violently shivered.
"Bloody don't… fucking ever do that again, gahh…" England groaned. Alfred's cheeky grin spread.
"What did you say? You're mumbling again Arthur, you know no one can understand what you're saying when you mumble," Alfred said, sitting beside him, across and away from Ivan while patting his back.
"You know what will cure that migraine of yours? Try hitting your head against the table, and then violently shaking your head afterwards, it always helps mine." England paused.
"You can't be bloody serious…" Arthur asked. Ivan smiled to himself.
"He's right, England. Hitting yourself in the head when you have a hangover really makes it feel better." England grumbled.
"How would you know? You can't get drunk even if you tried!" Francis walked over to the table with the French toast and bacon and sausages.
"Arthur, you have to hit your head really hard for it to work. Banging it softly makes it worse, but the harder you bang it, the better you'll feel," Francis said, taking a seat. "If your magical fairytale friends exist, then this method is truly fact." England paused in thought for a moment, processing the words very slowly through his brain. Head. Bang. Fairytales. His… his friends were real, damn it! No one in their right minds could say so otherwise! Francis placed his hands under his chin, smirking at him.
"Trust me." Arthur couldn't comprehend the last thing France said before forcefully hitting his forehead against the table. He froze.
Holy sweet Jesus on a pogo stick with Rick Astley cosplaying as Steve Carell in a pink unicorn getup, he felt like a complete dumb shit falling for such a low trick. The suffocating noise he made against the table was utterly ridiculous.
"Oh… oh my fucking god…"
Ivan couldn't help but snort before the three of them laughed uncontrollably.
"Ahhhh, just let it sink in, you'll be feeling better in no time," France smiled to himself taking a sip of his coffee before claiming his breakfast. Of course, America had already eaten half of the food already. What a fat ass.
"So America… anything planned today that you had to shower up over?" Francis asked. America almost choked on his food as he quickly glanced up at Ivan, who was covered in newspaper. Thank god. God Bless America.
"Urreem, I have a special meeting today. About the economy. Yeah." Smooth one, America. Ivan put down the paper to claim his breakfast, revealing the fact that he had his sweet-pea-scented body wash by his side. Alfred bit his lip as Ivan flashed him a friendly smile.
"Why do you have my shampoo…" Alfred asked.
"Body Wash. You threw it at me, remember? Thanks, it smells nice, I think I'll use it tonight," He smirked. America narrowed his eyes.
"No. No sir, I cannot permit you to use my limited edition sweet-pea-scented cologne tonight," Alfred calmly stated, sipping his coffee. Ivan smiled.
"Body Wash. And I beg your pardon, but I would love to adopt it after finding it abused and neglected by its previous owner. Amendment number eight, remember? You'll let me use some tonight," Ivan reassured. Al shivered.
"Don't make me take this to court over a damn bottle of sweet-pea-scented conditioner."
"Body Wa,"-
"I don't care, give me the damn bottle!" America's face grew hot as he stood up to claim his body wash. Ivan however, snatched it away towards his chest before Al could even get the chance. Alfred growled in frustration.
"Don't make me…" Al paused looking down at Ivan, whom in return cocked his head and looked into Al's eyes smirking. It sent shivers up Al's spine whenever he did that. Al had totally forgotten that France and England were right there. Russia chuckled.
"I don't mind sharing," He remarked. Alfred sighed.
"Ok never mind, keep it. I want to try a different scent anyways," He said before ascending upstairs quickly to get ready for his day. Ivan frowned.
"Like I said, I don't mind sharing." Russia sighed. But America was gone. So bipolar, Ivan thought. He looked over to England, who was still keeping his head against the table, then glancing at France, who shrugged at him. Ivan shrugged in return.
"I've always wanted to smell like flowers, it'll remind me of spring," Russia commented. England sighed.
"I think… I'm feeling slightly better," England said. France chuckled.
"Bang your head again,"-
"No thank you, you wanker," England cut him off. France snorted.
"Well, not to myself," France replied. England paused.
"Huh?"
"Where?"
"No."
"Maybe."
"Damn it."
"Tea?" England looked up to the tea cup that was offered to him, full of some sort of dark liquid. Arthur grimaced for a moment.
"Uhhh… yes, thank you," He said, claiming the cup and drinking it. Only to find out that he drank coffee instead. With Ivan's vodka sexually violating it nonetheless. England spit the bitter crap out.
"Urgh, you're going to make me sick, Francis," England held his stomach. "Give me some bloody French toast." Francis whistled.
"I'm gonna have to remember that one," Francis sung, handing some toast over to him with the serving fork. England didn't seem to catch on to what France really meant by that, but he decided that he didn't care anymore, as he picked at his toast. It took a moment before England felt like his stomach was about to invert itself inside out. Like a fucking popple.
"I'm sorry… I don't think I can stomach anymore of this-this French," England spoke lightly, putting down his fork. Francis sighed, taking the plate away from him.
"Maybe you had too much then…" He responded. In moments, Ivan spit out his coffee and started laughing. His spit, slash coffee, slash vodka sprayed over practically everything. England and France looked at Russia with blank expressions, as he could not stop laughing.
"Too… too much French, ahaha the puns!" He laughed. Francis smiled.
"Captain Obvious to the rescue," Francis responded.
England still didn't get it. It was best that he didn't know, Francis and Ivan decided telepathically. Yes, telepathically.
"I… I think I will go upstairs now…" England said, holding his stomach as he slowly made his way back to the stairs.
"Need some help walking, mon cheri?" Francis asked.
"No! More of your French will only make it worse!" England responded haughtily. Francis slightly took offense to this, but what could he say? England was always a whiney bitch during his hangovers.
"Want me to call your work to tell them you won't make it then?" Francis asked.
"No- gah!" It was the sound of Arthur being knocked down by some inevitable brute force running down the stairs.
It was that arrogant America. Wanting that freedom. Out of the old hostel of course.
"ThanksforbreakfastFrancekbye!" Alfred hollered as he dashed out the door. Ivan finally closed the paper as the both of them heard England cursing things that neither of them understood. Probably his black magic again.
"Eh, I'm already here," Ivan commented. Francis flashed him another "oh you" look.
"Yes, yes you are ohohoho," Francis replied. Russia looked down to his watch, which he happened to be wearing.
"Though I must be going now. Duty calls. My shift starts now," Russia walked out the door, but poked his head back inside.
"This is a good breakfast, Francis. I shall cook tomorrow morning." Ivan spoke as he walked out the door. Francis felt something incredibly warm and fuzzy inside. Like happy bunny rabbits. Now those things existed.
"Merci," France replied, as he walked up the stairs to "help" out England.
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I'm so sorry if you read that all the way through, and that you had to read my stupid writing! If I happen to do more, I'll feature other characters. Thanks for reading!