England was interrupted in his preparations for morning by a text message. He snatched up the phone, reading the message while he arranged his tie appropriately with one hand. He assumed brunch was a slightly more formal affair and hoped the tie would add just enough of a nice touch to make America appreciative.

Then he would bitch less in the meeting.

Ill pick u up 4 brunch. Meet u dwnstrs.

England sighed at America's bloody awful spelling—he despised texts for their ability to further butcher his language in a way even America had not managed until now—but smiled at America's thoughtfulness. Perhaps they could carpool again, this time to the meeting. It did make things so much less complicated where parking was involved. He would just have to remember to complain adequately enough about America's Bumblebee look-alike. He would shave his left eyebrow before he admitted that he was actually fond of the little yellow beast after seeing those movies.

No. He would shave both eyebrows.

Britain looked himself over once more in the mirror before stepping out into the sitting room. He closed his bedroom door behind him and—

"Bloody hell!" he snarled at France, who was sipping at his morning coffee and eyeing Britain's state of dress with an approving but suggestive gaze. "Do you have nowhere better you could be?"

He turned his glare to Prussia, who was sitting at the table reading the paper and dressed in a—Britain had to admit—rather snazzy suit and tie.

"And why are you bloody here?" he snapped.

"Ze meeting iz not for 'ours, Angleterre." France pointed out casually, raising a trim eyebrow. "While I may not 'ave anywhere "better" to be, apparently you do. Where are we off to so early in ze morning?"

"None of your bloody business, Frog." Britain growled. He glared at Prussia again. "And why are you bloody here? And… I know I will regret asking this, but… why in all the bloody hells are you wearing a suit?"

Prussia glanced at him and set aside his paper—Britain wondered if he had even been reading it or if he was just using it as some sort of prop.

"I am wearing a suit, Britain, because a suit represents power. And chicks are into bros who exude power. I plan on sleeping with as many of those chicks as possible while I am here."

"Power." Britain looked at Prussia blankly. Then he shook his head and frowned. "Wait… are you sober? Is this you sober?"

"Britain, this is me being the Awesome Me. And the Awesome Me plans on getting laid. Hence, the suit. Damn it, bro, why do you think I wore my uniform all the time back in the good old days? That shit got the girls hot. If you know what I—"

"Yes, thank you for that image." Britain sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. The meetings were being held for the rest of the week. He was stuck with both these idiots until then since Prussia was, apparently, not going anywhere. And if he tried to bring any of his "chicks" back to the suite…

"You 'ave not answered my question, Bretagne." France sipped daintily at his coffee. "And, I could point out you are also wearing a suit. And a tie. Do you 'ave somesing special planned for zis morning?"

"If I have to say that it is none of your bloody business one more time, France, I will—"

"Ten euro says it's a date." Prussia said, "reading" his morning paper again. Britain seriously had his doubts…

France gasped happily. He set down his coffee so he could clap his approval.

"With Amèrique?" he asked, apparently delighted. "Ce qui est merveilleux!"

France turned to Prussia.

"Twenty euro that 'e denies it."

"Of course I am bloody well going to deny it!" Britain shouted. He didn't know if he was pissed at their idea that he was going on dates with America or that they didn't even care that he was still in the room.

"Where are you going, then?" Prussia asked, far too calmly. Britain decided he did not like this Prussia.

"Out." Britain growled through clenched teeth.

"With Amèrique?" France asked simply.

"Fine! Yes." Britain snarled.

"Is it brunch?" Prussia asked without looking up.

Britain's mouth fell open.

"Wh—how the bloody hell could you possibly know that?"

"What else would you be doing in a suit before two o'clock in the afternoon?" Prussia asked and Britain damned the man and his "power" suit. It was obviously focusing his observation abilities while giving him bloody stupid ideas at the same time.

France's eyes lit up.

"You are going to brunch with Amèrique?" he sounded like a school girl asking if her best friend had really, for honest kissed the star football player. Britain narrowed his eyes and tugged at his suit, trying not to feel self-conscious about it.

"What if I am?" he stood a bit straighter. "Two gentlemen can enjoy a perfectly civil meal together."

"Brunch is for couples." Prussia pointed out calmly. Britain realized he was working his mouth like a suffocating fish. He snapped his jaw shut and glared with all the intensity that had won him half the known world.

"Brunch is not just for couples and what the bloody fucking hell could you possibly know about it?"

"Because I'm Awesome." Prussia looked at him in a way that suggested he pitied Britain for not being able to pick up on that sooner. "And chicks dig brunch."

"I thought they "dug" the suit?" Britain sneered.

"The two working in concert with one another is a lure no woman can resist. Or country." Prussia waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Britain had had enough of this nonsense.

"That is it. I am leaving now. I have a d—I have to meet America. For a perfectly casual meal. Because we are friends." Britain spoke as he marched across the room to the door. He paused when he pulled it open and rounded on the two still sitting calmly behind him. He aimed a finger at Prussia and glared again, trying to ignore the fact that the former country seemed perfectly immune to it. "And when I come back you had better bloody well be gone!"

He slammed the door shut behind him.

oOo

"Do you think our dear Amèrique is picking up Angleterre?" France asked, going back to his coffee. He chose a crescent to add to his breakfast. They may not have been French, but America did manage a fairly decent crescent.

"Sure." Prussia smirked. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do on a date."

"Oui." France agreed. "'E iz probably paying as well."

"And England's probably convinced himself that's the whole reason he's going." Prussia peered over his paper at France. The golden-haired country wasn't entirely sure Prussia was reading anything, either. He just liked his props. "Fifty euro says America manages to get into England's pants by the end of the week."

France raised an eyebrow.

"One 'undred euro says that Angleterre thinks it was 'is idea."