A/N: Visitors from 35 countries! Holy crap, guys.
I like writing Canada. I like writing Canada a lot. He's so whiny. Next chapter is him again, and after that... well, I'll give you a hint: FIGURE SKATERS.
The end of this chapter is still meant to be funny, but in an "oh haha it's like the real thing" way. And, uh, I still haven't written about ANYTHING related to the real MUN. Maybe next chapter they'll actually do some, like, political stuff or something. (Probably not…)
Someone should write a story with Turkey as a dashing corsair. Don't look at me, I'm busy.
The General Assembly
Chapter Three: Canada
The first fifteen minutes of the first debate were a complete nightmare.
Matthew was trapped between Arthur and Alfred, who seemed to be engaged in a heated debate (read: screaming contest). From across the room, the Canadian delegate could see Japan restraining Greece from hitting Turkey over the head with a chair. Bahrain and Qatar were making out under the conference table, and Switzerland had apparently decided it was a good idea to barricade himself into the supply closet, surrounding the door with overturned furniture.
Of course, the fifteen hours leading up to the conference had been a nightmare as well. The plane ride was a turbulent one, and his roommate, Francis, turned out to be a complete lunatic. To make matters worse, Matthew's brother Alfred had fallen head-over-heels for Arthur Kirkland, who Matthew may-or-may-not have had a small crush on since the shuttle ride to the hotel. Which was way before Alfred saw him, thank you very much.
But of course, Alfred was the one who got Arthur for a roommate. Matthew got the perverted one who smelled like cheese, and in an effort to escape him last night, he had walked in on his brother and the man of his dreams making out.
And now there was a stapler flying through the air towards his head. Holy Shatner, he was going to die a virgin.
"Get out of the way!" someone called, but it was like trying to dodge a shot from Gordie Howe. Belarus had a pretty good arm. Maybe he should ask her if she wanted to join his team, eh? Too late now.
--
Matthew felt as though he were drowning in syrup. The sounds above him were muffled, distorted. He wondered if anyone saw him go down. Probably not.
It was almost uncanny, how invisible he was. Even his imaginary friends snubbed him, and hey, they were invisible, too. How silly he was to think that Arthur would notice him instead of his courageous, loud-mouthed brother.
Now there was shouting going on, something along the lines of "YOU ARE BRILLIANT STUDENTS AND YOU ARE ACTING LIKE CHILDREN." It sounded kind of like Miss Karpusi.
--
"Hey, buenos días," said a deep voice. "But it's already dinner time, isn't it? Are you hungry, amigo?"
"Ketchup chips," Matthew moaned. "I want some ketchup chips."
The voice laughed softly. Matthew tried to open his eyes, but the light hurt his head. Not that it wasn't hurting already anyways.
He heard a rustling noise and something cool pressed against his brow.
"You're gonna have a pretty good bump there, man. That stapler hit you pretty hard."
"Who… who're you, eh?" Matthew sat up and cracked an eye open, pulling the cold washcloth off. He was lying on a cot in what must have been the hotel's first aid station. He couldn't see the rest of the room, however; the cot had curtains on either side of it.
"I'm the guy who finally found you," said the man seated by the bed. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and wore his hair in dreadlocks pulled back in a ponytail. "Juan."
Matthew's heart skipped a beat and he found himself staring down at the infirmary floor. He could feel a blush creeping across his cheeks.
"How-- How long was I lying there, eh?" the Canadian asked timidly.
"Well… Mama finally showed up and got everyone to calm down… What a disaster of a first meeting!" Juan pulled out a cigar and lit it up. Matthew's mutter of, "Idon'tthinkthat'sallowedinhere," went unheard.
"Are you kidding me?" a voice exclaimed in broken English from behind the curtain on the left. "That was the most awesome meeting ever."
"You hit your head pretty hard, Gilbo," Juan rolled his eyes at Matthew. "I am afraid you are still not thinking clearly."
"Fuck you," came the muttered reply.
"So…" Matthew cleared his throat.
"Oh yes. I saw the stapler heading toward you, so I ran over. I thought you were America, and, uhh…" Juan scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.
"You… You ignored me because you thought I was America?" Matthew asked in disbelief.
"…But then I tripped over you, and I realized my, ahem, mistake. The least I could do was bring you to the infirmary. I figure I should treat you to some ice cream, too," Juan smiled sheepishly.
"I… I have to go…" Matthew touched his feet to the floor and pushed himself up. He swayed a moment on the spot, and Juan reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Whoa, easy there, amigo." He gave the Canadian student a friendly smile.
"I'm sorry about all of this..." Matthew jerked his arm away and fled for the door.
--
Matthew hurried down the hallway, reaching up only once to gingerly prod the ugly lump in the middle of his forehead. Once was all it took for him to decide not to do it again.
"Miss Karpusi!" He came to a halt in front of the auditorium. The raven-haired coordinator was standing a few feet away from Mr. R and a blond man Matthew didn't recognize. They were arguing fiercely. At least, the blond was. Mr. R. was just jamming his fingers in his ears and whistling. Miss Karpusi turned to Matthew, smirking in amusement.
"Yes? Alfred, isn't it? That stapler hit you pretty hard. Are you alright?"
"Fine, ma'm," he mumbled.
"Yes, well, that's good." Mama cleared her throat. "The students have been asked to research for a position paper and a speech. Right now it's a little bit after dinner, so most people are probably in their rooms or out on the town. You can pick up your papers from the auditorium. I believe your assignment is also there."
"Yes, ma'm." Matthew turned to leave.
"Alfred?" said Miss Karpusi hesitantly.
"What, eh?" He turned around, and she squinted at him.
"No, never mind. Go ahead."
"Yes, ma'm."
--
"Bonjour," Francis purred from his bed as Matthew closed the door to their room behind him. "Are you alright? That welt looks rather painful. Shall I kiss it to make it better?"
"Non, merci," Matt deadpanned. He happened to have studied French in college, which was just as well. Francis claimed he had no use for English, and preferred to speak his mother tongue. "What's going on out there, eh?" He jerked his head, indicating the shouting from across the hall.
"That moron England is fighting with your brother," said Francis gleefully. "We may have his company in our room soon. He is a fine specimen. I should like to--"
Francis continued on in French, and Matthew became rather glad that he didn't know that much of the language.
"--while he is asleep, and--"
Matthew flopped on his bed and turned on the television. Screw that position paper he was supposed to be writing. Maybe there was a hockey game on…
--
He must have dozed off, because Matthew found himself startled out of his sleep by loud voices.
"I have independent thoughts, you know! You can't control me!"
"You--You're so naïve!"
"Yeah, well, I don't need you! Get out of here!"
Oh, great Gretzky. It was his brother and Arthur. Matthew got up and walked over to the door. Francis was already peeking out the keyhole at the two delegates arguing in the hallway. Matthew bent down beside him and peered out.
Arthur was standing in the doorway of his and Alfred's room, a suitcase in hand and a furious expression on his face. Alfred stared him down, equally livid.
"Then I'll stay with your brother. Surely he wouldn't mind my company. You mentioned that he liked me, didn't you?" Arthur's words dripped with malice. Matthew felt his chest tighten, and Francis gave him a surprised look.
"I should invite Francis over, then," Alfred replied with a sneer.
Arthur stiffened, and his mouth set in a thin line. He walked up to Matthew and Francis's door and turned. His voice was much softer as he whispered, "Damn it, Al…"
Francis let Arthur in, and the English delegate was already out of earshot before Alfred spoke, fists clenched and eyes downcast.
"When I met you, I thought you were so much different…"
Matthew felt his heart sink into his toes, and he quietly closed the door.
