A click sounds from the kitchen door, and a deep sigh as a cigarette is lit. François leans lazily against the doorframe, huffing out a breath of smoke. François, Oliver's babysitter and fuck buddy, is sickly-looking and unkempt, very different from the representative of France that Gilbert is used to. His stained clothes hang off his frame, his hair is unbrushed and dragged into a bunch tied with what looks like one of Oliver's ugly bow-ties, his jaw is unshaven, his eyes seem to be trying to sink into his skull to hide behind the shadowy bags clinging to his eyelids.
"Where the actual fuck did you appear from?" Al asks plainly.
"The third circle of hell," is François's blunt answer.
Oliver squeals a cheer as he glomps François into a tight hug. "I fetched him!"
"How did you even have the time to do that?" Seamus asks, "Around the cake, the cupcakes, the cookies, whatever the fuck else you've been baking, as well as being as creepy as shit? How do you find the time to kidnap and magically turn a Frenchman around all that?"
"You underestimate my abilities," Oliver says plainly.
"And my counterpart wasn't exactly a challenge," François drawls, "I wasn't waiting anywhere near as long as I expected."
"Matt told you to prepare, then?" Nikolai asks.
"Yes."
"Loyal little bastard," Al grunts, "Ruski still following him about?"
"He was. Matt was trying to get him to stay at the house with Ludwig and Feliciano, but I turned before that conversation ended."
"Any word on who's next?" Nikolai asks.
François laughs around his cigarette, "He mentioned Chuckie. He also mentioned that you would probably forget."
"You wanna know what I think?" Al pipes up.
"No." Is the unanimous reply.
"I think we should overthrow Nikolai, and have Matt as leader," Al says anyway. Did you think anyone's opinion could stop Al from expressing his? Get fucked. "Just have that sweet-toothed, stoner lumberjack telling us all what to do. He'd much less of a penis than Doktor Psycho over here. Plus, it seems Matt is the only one who has any idea what he's doing."
Nikolai kicks Al firmly in the ribs. "Shut up and fetch Peter."
"There's only one problem with that plan," Al says, smirking as he massages his throbbing side. That kick cracked the bones, at least.
"And what would that be?" Nikolai asks, Ivan's threatening smile splitting into his cheeks.
"I haven't a fucking clue where the little bastard's gonna be. He's a cunt to find at the best of times, but now other nations are going missing he's going to be hiding."
"You're right," Nikolai admits begrudgingly, "We will have to lay low for a while."
"Yeah, that's so going to lure him out," Al says with an eye roll.
Nikolai kicks Al a second time, and the crack of ribs is audible, "Since you're only proving yourself useless, I am going to fetch Yao, and I am going to do it personally."
"Suits me," Al shrugs, "I'll just sit here with Uncle Seamus and Herr Steroids. And the others, too, I guess."
"Glad to know you're thinking of us," Gilbert snarls.
"Where've Liz and Loz gone?"
"Haben Sex," Lutz answers bluntly.
"Already?"
"But I wanted to give Lorenzo a cupcake!" Oliver whines.
"Nobody likes your cupcakes!" Al yells.
"But they're so pretty and delightful," Oliver chirps, "Aren't they, France-y?"
François simply nods in agreement, taking a cupcake, completely poker-faced, as Oliver nudges him semi-encouragingly, semi-warningly with the tray of the cannibalistic 'treats'.
"Yeah, but underneath all that pretty icing and sparkles and unicorn piss, the cake is nothing but a lie!1!" Al hisses. Don't ask me how he managed to say '!1!' out loud, he just did.
"Your death will be a lie because I will make it look like an accident," Oliver hisses.
Al dives behind Lutz, who pulls an expression that can only be described as 'what the fuck?'. Or 'was zum Teufel?' since he's German. You now know how to say 'what the fuck' in German. And you thought fanfiction couldn't teach you anything.
"Come on, Alfie-dear, I made one especially for you," Oliver says, holding out a cupcake with a red and white pipe icing covered in blue fondant stars.
"Nope!" Al says bluntly.
"You know you want to," Oliver says, and Lutz is trying to get out from between Britain's answer to Hannibal Lecter and America's answer to something.
"Leave him alone, you bastard!" Seamus barks.
"You're all so silly!" Oliver chirps.
"Sit down, Oliver," François pulls on Oliver's shoulder.
"I'll have a cupcake," Nikolai says, taking a cupcake decorated with chocolate and yellow icing piped to look like petals; a sunflower. Sunflowers actually represent happiness. That's two things you've learned now. Give yourselves a pat on the back.
"Listen to you Frenchie fuck-buddy," Seamus snarls.
"Oh, I will," Oliver sniggers. François rolls his eyes, dragging Oliver backwards into one of the armchairs, "Ohh, now, now, don't be getting rough, France-y."
Seamus, Al and Gilbert all gip. Oliver pulls François into the armchair with him, their legs wrapping together and their bodies pressing against each other in order to fit.
"Weren't you fetching Yao?" Oliver asks Nikolai out of seemingly nowhere.
Nikolai blinks. "I forgot."
"This is why Matt should be in charge," Al says plainly.
Nikolai kicks Al again, this time in the back of the knee. Al's legs buckle, and he strangles Lutz on his own shirt as he pulls it, still using the German as a human shield from Oliver.
"Somebody work out how to get Lorenzo down here without having to actually go into his bedroom," Nikolai orders openly.
Lutz crouches, pulling the shirt over his head as he does so, leaving his shirt dangling from Al's clenched fists as he steps away and clears his throat, shouting in plain English; "Sorry, the princess is in the other tower!" Whoo, Italian/Mario jokes!
A number of crashes sound from the floor above them, then down the stairs before Lorenzo appears at the door, completely naked, but for the sake of censorship a conveniently placed * insert name of a perfectly generic object here* covers his *insert Italian-themed euphemism for penis here, like 'breadstick' or something, here*. Use your own creativity, readers, I'm not doing everything for you. "What the fuck do you mean she's in another tower?"
"Do you want a cupcake?" Oliver asks.
"No!" Lorenzo snaps.
"Now that everyone's back together, I'm going to collect Yao and Peter," Nikolai says openly.
"Did you really have to get me out of bed to tell me that?" Lorenzo demands, "I was getting laid, and it was fucking amazing!" Gilbert grimaces at his words.
"Don't forget again," Al smirks.
That kick goes into the ribs again, and knocks Al to the floor.
"Why do you even have to get Peter?" Al asks as her rubs his bruising side, "Ain't one not-nation enough for you?"
"Don't bully Gilbert!" Oliver scolds, "He's much more useful than you. You, dearie, are almost completely expendable."
Nikolai rolls his eyes, slamming the door behind him as he leaves, Lorenzo heading back upstairs to Liz, much to Gilbert's chagrin.
"You look down," Oliver says to the Prussian, "Have a cupcake."
Gilbert politely takes the cupcake decorated with mostly yellow icing until it looks like Gilbird, which only succeeds in making it more disturbing than it already is. As Oliver turns his back Gilbert tries to hide the grisly sweet, but a glare from François has him begrudgingly taking a bite of mostly icing. The sponge is red. That does not help the miniscule mouthful to go down.
"Do you like it?" Oliver asks hopefully.
"Ja, ja," Gilbert answers as convincingly as he can, but it doesn't fool Oliver in the slightest. But instead of reacting in anger like most people would expect of a gay Cockey cannibal, Oliver's face screws up and he begins to sob, tears flowing quickly over his cigarette-scarred cheeks and his lips pulled back to show tea-yellowed teeth.
François pulls Oliver into a protective hug, glaring angrily at Gilbert. "Shoosh, shoosh," he soothes as Oliver sobs into his shirt, "If you stop crying, I'll have a pillow fight with you."
"Wait, what?" Gilbert asks.
Oliver sniffles, and the crying stops as quickly and suddenly as it started.
"They're always like this," Seamus sighs.
"I know what else we can do," Oliver says to François, pressing their bodies flush together, "And it can involve pillows."
"Whatever could that be?" François asks, voice far too sultry for the question to have been serious.
"They're always like this, too," Tommy says, and Seamus pats his nephew awkwardly on the back.
"You're all just jealous!" Oliver snaps.
"Of what?" Al and Seamus ask in almost complete unison.
"I get to play with France-y," Oliver chirps, and François grimaces in embarrassment.
"And why would anyone be jealous of that?" Al asks.
"It's fun, it make me giggle, and it feels really good," Oliver answers, giving an example of one of his giggles. Of course, his giggle is really fucking creepy. I could go into much more detail than that, but it's half past ten at night and I can't be arsed, so "really fucking creepy" is the best you're going to get.
"You need to feel good, just borrow a magazine from this guy," Al gestures to Lutz, "The pages are a bit sticky, though."
"Ew," Oliver whines, "Wait, Al, how do you-"
Oliver in interrupted as Nikolai barges back in, attention whore that he is. I bet he got that trait from Putin.
"Cupcake?" Oliver offers.
Nikolai throws Yao down onto the sofa, and takes a cupcake decorated with the Russian flag. I can't be arsed with describing the cupcakes either. Nikolai takes the cupcake, and gives one decorated with a Chinese flag to Yao. I don't know why Oliver made a cupcake decorated with the Chinese flag; I'm too tired to think of a reason. I should probably stop writing and go to sleep before this chapter gets any more incoherent.
Whoo, cliffhanger!
Yao is China
Peter and Chuckie are 1p/2p Sealand respectively
Yao, Oliver and François were all rp'ed by another friend of mine. Let's call her 'L Kintaro'. That's a good name.
I really shouldn't write when I'm tired. This shit happens.
I own nothing
-Laurel Silver