It had taken you three hours, a bribe of Canadian syrup, two vials of pixie dust, a dance off, and a debt to France but you got the plans approved for the party, and for, more importantly, the prank. Everything was set, now you just needed to meet with the committee of set up. You have no idea how it got picked but you ended up with Romania, Norway, England, Germany, France, Spain, Iceland, Hong Kong, and America. Things would be interesting to say the least.
The magic trio was running around casting spells for decoration and amusement, of course once that was decided Iceland and Hong Kong kindly insisted upon their expert fashion advice to coordinate the part themes and concept. You trusted them, most of the time at least. You knew between Norway and England things wouldn't get to out of hand. This actually seemed to be working well though, everyone had seemed to fall into a rhythm. I mean how bad could it be? You hadn't heard, "Would you put that down you bloody idjit!" or "No we are not using leopard on zebra!" or any other complaints of the color scheme or theme in a while now.
"A little more to the left," you heard Iceland say. You could imagine his gestures, every single one purposeful no extra movement, all of it flowing perfectly. Just like Norway.
"How far to the left?" Norway asked, probably not wanting to have to go back and froth to the left.
"Hong, how far over should we go? Probably only about half an inch."
"Half an inch?!" Hong Kong called, "What are you trying to do throw off the entire feng shui of the room?"
You could identify the facepalm from a mile away, England, "Oh bloody hell if I have to move that blessed crystal ball one more time because you throw off his feng shui, Iceland I will smash the thing over your head."
Norway offered a chuckle, and Romania completely lost it.
You could hear the eye roll in Iceland's voice, "That is why I was asking for your measurements. I would hate to upset you." The sarcasm the nation was able to string into a single sentence always surprised you.
"Three millimeters. Exactly."
"Are you serious?" Norway replied.
"CAREFUL, would you pay attention Norge you're going to drop the bloody thing on the floor! And then I will really have to hear about his feng shui," England called, probably taking over the magic.
"Well why don't you do it, he is your kid."
"He's your brothers boyfriend!"
"I hate this," Iceland moaned, "Would you mind, Romania?"
"Not at all," Romania beamed, "Three millimeters? No problem."
You waited a moment.
"Perfect," Hong Kong said, and nothing was even sarcastic. You smiled for the nation.
"I know I am," Romania gave his natural cocky response, probably twirling his wand along with it.
"Smashing, moving on," England replied, "What about this?"
Yep everything seemed fine after all. At least it did in that section of the house.
Meanwhile, France and Spain where in the kitchen cooking like mad. Even in another room you could hear them running around; stirs in pots, flower powdering into clouds, scrapes on metal, fire from the oven and heat. You heard demands in French, "Non you fool. This is Havarti not Gouda! Immedicable, it's like trying to communicate the fine art of culinary to the blasted sheep."
Then screams of Italian, "How dare you compare me to that uncultured bastard? He doesn't even know what salt and pepper is, let alone rosemary and basil. Maybe if your accent wasn't so hard to understand or if you would just stick to mozzarella, we wouldn't have such a problem."
Then of course came the curses Spanish, "Ay, Dios mios. France, mi amigo I beg of you. Do not start this this with Roma again? You know how he gets. Todos tiempos en la cocina, siempre cocinamos. Siempre es la misma lucha. Nunca es nuevo. ¿Por qué estoy yo siempre en el medio?"
"English!" France called, "How am I suppose to understand you when you go on a Spanish tangent?"
"You always talk in French to Canada."
"Huh? Don't pull me into this," Canada said as if he was pulled out of his cooking daze.
"What does that have to do with it? Spanish and Italian are two separate languages!" France screamed.
You thought you were going to have to go in when suddenly you heard a very loud, "HEY EVERYONE!" America, it couldn't be anyone else. "What's a motto, bro?"
"Nothing, what's a motto with you?" Canada replied.
The bomb was instantly defused; you managed a large smile at the thought of your hero knowing he saved the day for you. Things always got bad in the kitchen. France and Canada where fine in the kitchen they knew each other better and could speak in any language to one another, France and Romano where fine even they both loved food to much to fight, France and Spain where fine food had always strengthened their friendship never complicated it, France and Italy where fine too though that scene was more silent as they both would get intense about their work. No, no none of that was the problem, not France or Spain or Romano, the problem was all of them together. Normally you would pull someone out, but you were glad they all joined in on the mess. It was overall a good idea especially since there was such a large amount of food and such a large range of food that needed to be made.
You started to walk back into the other room, hoping Iceland and Hong Kong hadn't gotten to out of control. Your mind started to wonder and you thought back to the committee. You were wondering where Germany was. He had originally been commissioned as someone to help make sure America didn't get too overwhelmed and out of control, although when he wasn't on time for the meeting you knew something was up. America must have left the kitchen because suddenly you heard a call from France for more pots, you ran off in the direction being pulled towards it and out of your worry.
You stopped when you heard Canada actually scream, "God bless it Switzerland, you have all the worlds' money and you can't even buy a third oven!" You inhaled sharply and all you got was a deep scent of maple syrup. You chuckled lightly, trying to keep yourself composed.
"You'll have to turn ze vents on, can't let Denmark and Prussia smell the syrup. Assuming America has not taken it all fer himself. "
You jumped at the sound of Germany's voice, it seriously freaked you out when he spoke so softly and suddenly, "Dang it, Germany! Why do you have to do that?"
"I apologize."
"Why are you so late? I've felt like Austria conducting a fifth year band concert."
Germany shuddered at the thought, "I apologize again."
"Don't be sorry, just is everything ok?"
He nodded, "Fer me? Ja. You have an appointment though."
"Switzerland?" you raised an eyebrow.
"Ja, he's in his office. Now vould be ze best time."
"Are you willing to be the SO for everything and everyone then while I'm gone?"
He nodded again, "Vill do." You smiled at him as wide as you could. Germany looked extremely puzzled, he had to be used to smiles though between Prussia and Italy. He raised an eyebrow at you, "You do know of mein brother, ja? I speak of Switzerland not Prussia. Most people are not so," he paused thinking of the kindest word, "eager. To see him."
You continued your smile, "Oh no I am terrified, don't worry. I'm smiling to thank you though."
Germany glanced behind you trying to peer into the kitchen, "I promised I vould look after them, I never said I vould not kill them."
You laughed, "I'm okay with that actually, well most of them."
"I'll shall make sure to keep America alive."
You stared at him, even he knew, "Do you always know everything, Germany?"
"My English has become some vhat rusty."
"That's not what I meant."
Germany made a small thinking sound, "Perhaps my sarcasm is slipping too."
Did Germany just make a joke? You softened and for some reason you stepped forward and hugged him. You felt him flex his muscles out of surprise for the sudden personal contact. Eventually you felt his one hand rest lightly on your back, but you could feel how rigid it was. The movement was unnatural and his face still hung in surprise. You squeezed his shoulders trying to get him to relax, "Thank you, Germany. I didn't mean about keeping them all in line."
Germany took a small stepped back and studied you, "Vhat did you mean zen?"
"Yesterday, er well last night with Sealand. It really meant a lot to him and to me, you would be a really good parent nation. Your brothers and your sister are lucky to have you, so is Italy."
He gave you a small smile, "Maybe you should inform Romano."
You laughed at his light joke, "I'll see what I can do, but it will have to wait until after I visit Switzerland, I've kept him waiting long enough."
Germany nodded, "Best of luck." You nodded and turned to leave, but Germany caught you and pulled you into a quick hug, "Thank you."
It was your turn to be surprised by the contact. You had never been very close with Germany, but you knew enough about him to know he wasn't exactly the hugging clingy type. You understood though, you got the thank you and what it meant. You smiled and hugged him back, "You're welcome."
The two of you parted and Germany looked almost embarrassed, you still had a smile, "Sorry."
"Don't be, I'm the one that should be. I'm thanking you-" you were cut off with the sound of food flying in the kitchen.
"You bastard! How dare you question my spices?" Romano screamed.
"Now mon amie, Canada was merely saying that-" France tried to but in.
"Don't you touch me, frog! This kitchen is mine."
"I thought it was Prussia and Germany's normally…." Canada said meekly.
Something was flung again, and Frances temper rose, "Je t'emmerde!"
"This isn't good," you said to Germany, "France is swearing in French now." America had definitely left the kitchen, possibly the building.
Germany nodded, "I'll take care of it, go see Switzerland. It'll keep him out of ze kitchen."
You nodded and both of you took off running in difference directions. Germany ran to the kitchen bursting the doors open, and you running to Switzerland's office to run interference.
