I don't own. (as always.)


The conference room was unusually silent the next morning, but that had probably something to do with the fact that China had gone home the day before, refusing to stay a moment longer in a country full of 'rude' animals. He grunted on that, annoyed. What did the guy expect?

That they wiped their mouth with a napkin after mauling their prey?

Russia had been oddly quiet during the whole ordeal, explicitly after China had voiced his opinion about brown bears, and bears in general. Truth, he felt sort of hurt by the words too and he wasn't the one who had them as his national animal.

But honestly, for someone who tortured puppies the guy was really to softhearted sometimes.

As always, he zoomed out after the first hour, as the host he had the questionable honor of presenting first and the rest didn't interested him that much so he resolved to watch his guests instead.

Or, more, one particular guest.

Did China's words really cut that deep, he wondered, eying Russia out of the corners of his eyes. He looked straight out depressed. Someone poked him in the side.

'Stop glaring.' His brother mouthed to him. 'The others are already staring.'

He scowled darkly; displeased upon being interrupted - but quickly re-schooled his expression to one of interested indifference once he realized he'd done so. England was talking now and suddenly he was rather glad for the 'improvements' he'd made on his headset. Reaching into his poked he pushed the 'on' button and the second the Bluetooth needed to connect later, one of his favorite songs filled his ears, droning out his new enemy's monotone voice. …Mommy doesn't have her head anymore, keep it underneath my bed on the floor; that's alright though; that's ok... Ah, maybe he'd lived to see the lunch room after all.

Mattie only gave him a scandalized look.


'You're humming again.'

'What?' He turned, a bit out of it, to his brother. Mattie rolled his eyes at him.

'You're humming. Stop it. They're giving you weird looks.'

Indeed, the ones standing behind them in the queue that had formed in front of the buffet were staring rather...fearful. Hach.

'Aw, Mattie∼' He warbled cheerily while he shoveled some backed potatoes onto his plate. 'You know exactly that I don't give a flying fuck!'

His brother groaned. And groaned again when he saw to which table he headed to, but Russia still looked depressed and he was called much but definitively not a bad host!

'Mind if I sit here?' He asked, pointing at the free chair across from Russia. The guy's head snapped up and a long moment, he simply stared with surprise.

'Please.' He said then, with an inviting wave towards the free chair.

'Thanks.' He sat down, Mattie following him after a brief moment of hesitation. After that, an slightly awkward silence settled over the table. But they were at lunch, not at a cocktail party so he simply speared the first piece of broccoli and brought it to his mouth - before the stench hit him. He swallowed dryly, opened his mouth, closed his lips around the fork's load and chewed. Then came the worst part: he had to swallow. After some seconds of battling his stubborn tongue he'd made it.

Okay, one task done, many jet to come.

He ignored Mattie's concerned sidewards glance, skillfully, as well as the openly curious one Russia cast his struggle with the food but at least the guy didn't commented on it, something certain others would've done - and had done before.

'Say.' He said eventually, several gulps later - the plate wasn't even half-empty but he'd come further than yesterday so it was okay in his book. Russia was poking listless around in his food, contrary to his brother who inhaled the stuff, figuratively spoken. 'You don't think bears are vile beasts too, right?'

That was what China had said before.

Russia looked up. 'Nyet.' He said toneless.

He felt a broad grin rise on his face. 'Thanks man, that's what I wanted to know.' His brother eyed him as if he seriously questioned his sanity but, he did that half the time anyway so what gives?

'Well, it's just unusual, don't you think? I mean why would-' He went on, using the opportunity his poor attempt on conversation gave him to 'forget' he rest of his lunch - and to get rid of the gloom around Russia, it started to make him gloomy too and that was just ...annoying. After another slightly puzzled look, Russia actually responded.

And so they slowly went into a discussion about what bears weren't, with sporadic input from Mattie once they moved over to the topic of Hunting acts concerning them in Alaska - and he subtle denied the possibility of some measurements China 'suggested' to be done against them.

'America...' Russia interrupted him quietly, eventually. 'Why are you telling me all this?' He tilted his head, as if really being confused by the others question. 'But the bear is your national animal, right? I thought that would make a nice small talk topic. Or did I get it wrong?' He added in a worried tone.

After a moment Russia shook his head in the negative, then 'You know about that?' He shrugged appearing to be unconcerned - actually he was but that motion always just hinted into the negative and that was too useful to pass up. 'Ah, well you know, after a while the evening program gets a bit boring...'

He trailed off, and then shrugged again. And because being drunk will let you do stupid things, he added inwardly. Like, raiding the next bank for shit and giggles, or putting the neighborhood on fire.

Or 'visiting' your fellow nations on Facebook.

Russia stared at him with a rather interesting expression, he thought, while feeling a bit stupid - the Eurasian nation's mask was perfect but one only had to look into his eyes - nobody dared though - and they would tell you books about him. Still, he never would've thought those purple orbs could appear that ...warm.

Mattie cleared his throat, interrupting his little moment of fawning. 'The break's over in five minutes - I just thought you ought to know.' He added upon the slightly annoyed look he gave him. Well, mind you; he had an 'Aw is that kitty cute' moment here, and didn't want to be disturbed, thank you.

But now, Russia stood up with an apologizing smile. 'Nu, then we better don't let them wait, da?' And he could only nod, although he found, he hid his disappointment rather well.

Or so he thought.


Russia hadn't had a good day so far. First, his 'toy' had gone missing the day before and despite that he searched for hours he hadn't be able to find it - although he had an rather interesting encounter along the way - and then, it stumbled out of the very forest he'd searched as if it hid from him on purpose.

Of course it did.

Next, the only thing he thought would help him over the endless hours of bore-doom he suffered during the conference - worse than the Moscow traffic jam - said toy, China had went home.

But not without utterly humiliating him – to his face, no less. There really was no need to insult his national animal like that. And him, for that matter. The sad thing being, China didn't even realize he'd done so. It wasn't as if he really cared about the Asian man, but somehow he'd always though the other would not allow himself to be so ignorant about his 'friend'- and be it only to safe his own throat.

So, he attended the first day of the conference throughout depressed, the aura of doom enough to hold anyone at bay.

He was fine with that, seriously.

At least he hadn't to endure his neighbors forced civility - sucking up, if he was honest with himself - or his sister's 'attention'. That in mind, he forced himself to go on listening to Iran's sermon with the uneasy feeling one of his eyelids had adapted a spastic twitch some when during the last minutes.

Next was England.

'What is America doing?' Two seats away some small Asian country he didn't know the name off whispered to his neighbor. And really when he looked America was-

'He's head-banging.' He said exasperated, though it sounded more like the last groan of a dying man. (Ups.) The other's flinched.

'Is...Is that bad?' Still-no-name dared to whisper back after a second.

Up at the podium he could see England's enormous caterpillars twitch in annoyance all too plainly. 'Not necessary.' He said flatly. 'Just not something you do while pretending to listen to others.'

Still-no-name nodded, as if he really said something worthwhile. Or was that another sucking-up-man? His thoughts were interrupted only minutes later, when England headed straight towards America - sadly the island had gone through with his speech before doing so, but alas, you can't have it all, right?

'Alfred!' England screeched, ripping the cable of America's headset off before the other could react. 'You blasted Wanker, couldn't you at least― !'

'…For my machine, put him in a homemade guillotine; Blade falls, gonna need a casket; Watch the head plop in a wicker basket…'

'What the bloody hell is that?!' England yelped, tossing the cable back at the other so he could stop the noise. 'That's awful!'

'But I though you liked Punk Rock!' America countered wide-eyed, in a voice that sounded... hurt. And he looked so innocent by doing so.

'That - I- I - What are you-' England sputtered, flustered beyond words while his face slowly grew red with mortification. And they really still thought America was nice. He sighed deeply.

'That wasn't nice.' Still-no-name said quietly, letting him hope for a second. 'He could've hurt his ears doing that.'

He suppressed the urge to face palm at the guy, if only barely. Was it really just him who saw how much of a twisted social sadist America could be?! But now, France had joined in the banter which would soon lead to the usual –

'BLOODY FROG!'

Right. After whole centuries of these two quarrelling he couldn't even think about it as something else than another program point in the normal conference's routine, and if he tried to. Eventually, Germany reached the end of his patience and after some ear-splitting shouts the silence in the room was restored. He sighed. He should've brought a book or something, knitting was only helpful as long as you didn't have pessimistic thoughts floating around in your mind.


They had pelmeni at the buffet and he took some, having fleet the conference room as soon as they announced it being lunch time. Most of the tables were still vacant so he settled for one in the back - but with an escape window in close proximity - so he had a bit time to think.

About China, mostly.

Being friends had its advantages, he could come over (spy) as much as he wanted on the other and what he saw lately only proved the suspicions which had motivated him to approach the other in the first place. Apart from that, the more he got to know the Asian man, the more he found his character...concerning. Oh he was nice alright, if he wanted to, but there were some traits that reminded him uneasy of a certain ancient empire. He had to watch his 'toy' a bit longer. Can't have him shot him in the back when he didn't look after all.

damn da-da damn da-da damn damn damn da-da damn-

He glanced up from his plate. America had entered the room and was now standing in the queue in front of the buffet, humming gleefully - which was in all good coincidence really nothing short of a threat - until that nation nobody ever seemed to remember stopped him. The two really looked remarkable alike, he mused, then remembered that he thought that during the last conference too - and during the one before that, too. Maybe the guy was cursed.

'Aw Mattie∼'

So, Mattie was the name of that man, he noted absently - who was he anyway, America's twin-brother?

'You know exactly that I don't give a flying fuck!'

He had to withhold a groan. What was that about being the 'nice' guy? But when he looked closer, America appeared to be a bit ...worn out; at least he thought that, seeing as nobody else seemed to notice the slight maniacal glint in the other nation's eyes from whom he once thought had the color of a summer sky. Now, they only reminded him of the arctic sea.

Cold, deep and full of undesirable surprises.

Regardless, that development was interesting enough to get him away from his gloom about China, at least somewhat.

'Mind if I sit here?'

He looked up to find America had put a hand on the back of the chair on the other side of his table. Why would he want to sit here, of all things he thought bewildered. The other ignored him consequently in the normal case, as he himself did. But remembering his manners - had he stared - he gestured to the chair.

'Please.'

And America actually settled down, along with, ah now he remembered, it was Canadia, right? Though the guy didn't seemed too pleased about sitting here, seeing as he cast glances to the table where the BTT had settled down every other second. But Canadia soon slipped his mind completely when he witnessed America's eating habits.

A fierce battle against his food, really.

Maybe he should suggest using a PEG tube, he had that too after all - every time the elections came up and that was by far the easiest way. But bringing that up now would probably not be very well received so he simply ignored it after a while. And then America started asking him about his opinions about bears. He couldn't help that the assumption arose that the other only did that to confidently 'forget' about his full plate.


So I finally came around and posted the next chapter... for the two or three people that actually read this, if I'm honest, but -

ah, Never mind.

I finished the epilogue, I think I said before that I already finished most of the story, it's not long, I promise, and I'll post the rest when I fell like it.

Bye.