Yay! So, third chapter it is? Already?! I wouldn't have thought it would be so easy… but of course, reviews are like fuel for authors^^
What I DO have troubles with sometimes, is keeping their reactions in bay. I want to give them time… Even England would agree.
England: Of course I do! Giving enough time and not forcing is essential!
France: Olala, look at that! Angleterre is giving an advice about love that actually works!
England: Why, you bloody wine-face! You've forgotten I had Shakespeare, Byron, Keats and Shelley?! *tries to give France a nice big punch*
Me: *holding Arthur by one arm* Er… England… I don't think this would be the time for this…
England: *calms down* You are right. *glares at France* After the Meeting. Bare hands. You and me.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them, unfortunately. Or else, I'd be the matchmaker xd *The whole UN glares at her and begins to walk in her direction* J-Just joking! Geez, don't you understand jokes?!

3

The meeting room was nearly full, although it was still about 15 minutes left till nine. Hungary sat down to an unoccupied chair- it wasn't as easy as one would think. Most nations were gossiping and chatting in small groups, leaving the table nearly deserted, but their coats, bags and other possessions more than clearly signed the few vacant seats. As she examined the area next to her, Elizaveta had to suppress a moan: Gilbert's Prussian blue jacket (what the ex-nation was even doing here was beyond everyone, but he kept visiting the meetings anyway) hung loosely on her one side (next to Ludwig's gray and Feliciano's vanilla-colored overcoats), and… France's perfumed, white tuxedo lay nicely folded on the other. On the other hand, the amorous man would surely be irritated to see that brown bomber jacket with the white 50 on the back in his neighborhood. What was it doing there? The grass-green coat (belonging to a certain Englishman) on the American's right gave the answer- and she felt nearly prone to quote the writing on Hell's gates from Dante's Divine Commedy in her mind: All hope abandon, ye who enter in...

Clearly, she had taken Spain's place, thus separating the Bad Company Trio… But she couldn't find any other! Turkey of course sat by Heracles, so did Japan, and along with him came the rest of the Asian family. That meant Russia had to be right there, too, with Ukraine, Belarus- and the unwilling Baltic trio, plus a slightly irritated (by the looks Ivan gave Toris when China refused to notice him) Poland. Estonia attracted Finland to the spot, and so the Nordics found themselves in the lot as well. Feliciano sat between Ludwig and Lovino, who in turn… Was that Vatican, who sat closer of the two, or perhaps San Marino? They both had the same curl in their hair as the two Italies… no, it had to be Vatican: he had shorter hair, a cross in his neck, accompanied with the black trousers, black shirt and the white collar of the clergy. The rest of the world- Oceania, Southeast and Inner-Asia, Africa, Middle and South-America- sat in what seemed to be a mess, but she had the feeling it had to have the same reasons as the sitting order at their side of the table.
A cheerful as always Spaniard came in as the last of the expected nations (followed closely by Canada, but only America, France and Gilbert noticed him), with a basketful of tomatoes.
'Oh… hi, Spain… er… I guess I've taken your seat, but you can have it back…' Hungary said awkwardly, her face slightly resembling the fruits Antonio brought along.
'Oh, no, you can of course stay where you are! I don't mind sitting somewhere else at all!' he waved, smiling broadly. That, with his loud voice, did the least of the things Elizaveta wanted: it made France and Gilbert realize who they were witting with (since they have been chatting idly with Ludwig and Feliciano at one of the windows). Now they both turned towards her, with a mischievous glint in their eyes.
'Well, well, well, if it isn't our lovely l'Hongrie… -said France, taking some steps to his seat. –Really, it's an honor to…
'Cut this shit, I'm not in the mood for it- that's for one. For two: last time I checked, I was nobody else's but my own.' She whispered in French, earning a cringe from Francis, a light chuckle from Russia (who looked up when he saw France moving towards the green-eyed woman), a hidden but approving smile from Switzerland, and big eyes from England. She didn't notice how the room went quiet.
'Oh, if you knew how you…'
'Hurt your feelings? Sorry, but I thought you were by far too self-secure enough for only that to work.' Hungary answered in English. England snickered, Switzerland spat the mouthful of water he had been drinking, and America burst out laughing- seemingly enjoying the fact it wasn't he who had to argue with France or England.
'Touché.' Arthur murmured under his breath, in unison with Russia and France.
'Somebody's tongue became quite sharp, I see…' it was now France's turn to hiss in his language.
'Blame your buddy here- growing up with him does that to you.' Hungary motioned towards Gilbert with her head, now in her normal tone, and of course in English.
'She's got a point.' Germany chimed in, causing everyone else to turn towards him in disbelief. Germany getting into an argument, not ending it was of course absolutely new to the UN. 'What? You all know it.' he murmured, blushing slightly.
'West! On whose side are you, I ask?!' Gilbert cried. Germany frowned and already opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say a word, England cleared his throat.
'As much as I bet we all enjoyed this, he have serious business to do here, so, in order to avoid future mishaps… America, you will swap places with me, so that I can keep this wino-bastard in check. Ludwig, Eliza, I guess I can trust you to deal with Gilbert… but…' he furrowed his eyebrows in thought 'that reminds me… there's one less German-speaking nation here… Where's Austria?'
'Oh, yeah, about that… he said his boss made him swear they have a talk today at 10 am.' Hungary explained. The host sighed, but nodded, meaning he accepted the fact.
'All right, let's begin then.'

A couple of hours later, the nations began to leave, one by one or in groups. France particularly had a vengeful and infuriated appearance; he unceremoniously grabbed Gilbert and Antonio by the hand and left as soon as England closed his file, and he kept shooting glares in his female neighbor's direction during the meeting. This made Hungary think twice about hurrying back to the motel and packing- she had probably better wait until the Frenchman calmed down, if he ever did at all. Germany ensured her he would keep an eye on Gilbert, and even little Italy swore (along with Romano, which was weird), that they saw to Spain and France.
'I'm sure Spain isn't mad at all, though. The main problem is that jerk France…' Lovino said, getting a bit uncomfortable.
'Don't worry, fratello, he'll listen to me just as Spain-nii listens to you.' Feliciano chimed in with a bright smile.
'Even if he doesn't… the shortest way he can get to you is through MY possession- I doubt that he'll take a place, that's much too detectable.' Switzerland added, lifting a revolver he had on him right now instead of his rifle- indicating what would happen to France should he dare to cross the Swiss border.
'And Austria-san's there, too.' Italy continued. Hungary had to suppress a bitter smile- since when was Austria a match to France? He certainly wasn't one at the time of Napoleon, or in the world wars. She thanked them all anyway, and they set out as well, leaving only her and England. Elizaveta was surprised to see the all-packed briefcase- and a single file in the Englishman's hand. She gave him a questioning look, to which he slightly blushed.
'So… Since Austria didn't come, he'll need a copy of the materials, and… I thought you could give it to him.'
Hungary nodded, reaching out for the file and taking it safely away.
'I didn't remember you could put up with France like that. It was… well…' Now he was behaving strangely, looking everywhere but at the woman in front of him, hands in his pockets (something he rarely did), his cheeks still a little reddened. Hungary couldn't help but find this kind of… cute, in the ir… w-wait, did she nearly think of Arthur Kirkland as irresistible? She felt the blood rushing towards her cheeks, quickly turned her head away as well, and knew her face must be trying to put Antonio's tomatoes and even her own precious paprika to shame. O-okay, she had to admit, he was good-looking, and nice, and… had loads of other values, too, like courtesy and stuff, but…

But realistically speaking, could she actually believe she had the same kind of influence on him as he did on her? No chance. He had loads of nations who had more to thank to him than her or even grew up under his care. She saw it on every meeting, although it only met her eyes now that she thought about it: especially with America (and sometimes with France as well), he might have been bickering, but he couldn't have meant everything just the way he said it. He was a master of irony, sarcasm and subtle hints, after all… and he was always absent from those birthday parties in Washington DC, to which practically the whole great world was invited, and most of them came as well. Yes, she did, too- and it always made her wonder, why is America looking towards the east from time to time, or re-checking the guests, as if expecting someone who didn't come. It seemed they both cared for the other, and both felt lonely on the 4th of July.

No, she couldn't delude herself: this blush of Arthur Kirkland's had nothing to do with her person. It was only a natural reaction from someone who's used to giving sharp remarks and scolding, rather than complaints- and as for the complaint itself, it was merely due to the fact that she had opposed England's long-time rival, as it should be. She could consider him as nearly a friend, but he had always others, others who knew him way better than she did.
What she didn't quite understood (or didn't want to admit the reason even to herself), was why this would bother her in the slightest. She couldn't allow it to, not if she wanted to keep this where it should belong.
'Well… it was good job and nicely done.'
'Thanks…' Hungary smiled, yet she couldn't bear to look in his eyes- she was afraid it would give her completely away, even those things she didn't dare to think through in the first place. She turned towards the door, wanting to leave… but would it do any good? Would it prevent her from realizations?
'Until the next meeting, then.' she said, finally looking him in the face, managing a little smile.
' Yes… until then.'

Only as she entered her small motel room did Hungary remember a simple yet crucial fact: the next meeting will be in Paris, in two months.

AN

Well, not too much to say about this one. As for the fact that Russia and Hungary speak French: they were just as fascinated by the French Enlightenment and fin de siècle as everyone else in Europe.
I hope I give Hungary-chan justice here… and if you are disappointed by England's final sentence: he would like to say pretty much, but… he just finds it difficult, after Hungary behaving like that at least. Bu he begins to feel something as well…^^