"7:30 a.m., if I cut through this street I might make it before 8," you muttered to yourself while locking your apartment door. No matter how

"Good morning bella!" you hear two honks and turn to see Italy sitting happily in his small red car with the roof retracted. Someone groaned and lifted his head from the back seat, "Are you okay Japan?"

"Good morning, what are you doing here Italy?" your bag bounced as you approached the car.

"To pick you up of course!" he stretches himself from the driver's seat to open the passenger door. "The resume had your address on it, and America wanted you to be picked up and I volunteered! Your apartment is near the hotel most of us are staying in."

"I should have ridden with Germany," cried Japan as he huddled in fetal position.

"Are we going to make it on time? It takes about thirty minutes to arrive at the conference hall," as your question ended Italy stepped on the acceleration pad and raced down the street. "OH SHIT!"

"I can get us there in five minutes!" the tiny car zoomed down the street along with the screams of you and Japan.

...

It took ten minutes of speeding to arrive at the building. Although his driving was terrifying his parallel parking came out better than yours ever did. You and Japan excitedly collapse out of the car as Italy skips to the entrance. "Oh boy I'm so happy I get to teach you Italian than attend the meeting!" he burst through the doors, "GERMANY WE'RE HERE!"

You hear Japan mumbling as he tried his best to compose himself and walk with his back straight. Instead of rushing upstairs, Italy ran to the open doors at the middle of the stairs. To your surprise, there was a sparkling white kitchen, and Germany in an apron. The kitchen was not only bright from indoor lighting, but from the huge window at the end. Rectangular tables were lined up from the entrance to the window. To Italy and Japan it seemed like a normal sight, but for you to see buff Germany in an apron, preparing pancakes is more of a shock. "Good morning."

Italy leans over, "Are you making crepes Germany?"

"No, it's obviously pancakes!" he flips one in the air and places it on the mountain of pancakes you did not notice before. There were at least three rectangular tin pans filled up with the thin pastry. "I was going to make wurst, but most have a sweet tooth."

"Pancakes, syrup, blueberries, strawberries," Italy drooled. "Ahh, Germany is amazing!"

You begin gathering the bowls and utensils into the sink and reached to turn the faucet, but someone spun you around. "Bonjour. You do not need to worry about those dirty dishes, leave it to someone else. Spain! Your hands are already dirty!"

A shaggy hair brunette with a basket of tomatoes and paper grocery bags entered the room, "I do need the sink to be clear in order to wash these tomatoes...Romano?"

Another man who looks similar to Italy followed Spain in with his nose in the air, "No wa-" he paused when he saw you and immediately whispered something in Italy's ear. "Hmph, all right," he nudged you aside and started on the dishes. "Only because I'm a pretty nice guy...A-AND I LOVE TOMATOES!"

"That's my big brother, Romano," explained Italy.

"Buenos dias!" greeted Spain and joined Germany at the stove. "Move over Germany I wanna make churros!"

"It's not breakfast without whip cream!" France dug in one of the grocery bags to take out a can of cream. "Let's make crepes instead!"

"PASTAAA!"

You watch the three fight over kitchen tools, ingredients and pans, so you back away to head upstairs and open the conference room doors. You hear the clamor grow louder as you took a step down when you see America, England, and a few familiar faces run for the kitchen instead of the meeting room. You glance at your phone and see the time is 8 a.m. "...What are the damn points of holding these meetings?!" you murmur aloud.

I really should be in school by now...

"Aw shit, I should be checking off the list on whose here or not," you dig in your bag for your clipboard and the list Germany gave you and check off those you knew. Your foot slipped and the only thing that ran through your mind is that...Oh hell I'm falling.

Your clipboard is dropped and you sprawl an arm to grab the railing and once you had a hold of it with your left hand, you swung over and held it tightly with your right. My life flashed before my eyes and it was pretty fucking boring.

"Dude, are you okay?!" footsteps trailed out from the kitchen. Your eyes were shut tight and when you opened them you first see America's concerned face, "Hey, did you fall?"

"N-No, I g-grabbed on just in time, so it's fine," you take his hand, and as you stood up you see twenty or more pairs of eyes staring at you. Your knees collapse from embarrassment. "I think I should just sit at the desk an-"

"Oh, yeah everyone!" yells America. "This is _! She's my assistant for when we hold meetings here! And online, ain't that awesome?!" He turns back at you, "You should totally come down to eat before going back to work, it's like a total buffet!"

You continue to blush and hold the rail while going downstairs. Your eyes frantically search for Russia for some reason and once you found him, Italy took you by the arm and dragged you to the kitchen. "Come on! Let's be first in line!" you pull away.

"I'll wait Italy it's fine, I still have to check everyone in first, save me a plate, uhm, per favore?"

"Si!" he surfed his way through the crowd as you moved against, apologizing and saying "Excuse me."

"Unf," was the sound you made when your head met with Russia's chest. Behind you everyone hushed, "Sorry, Russia, I was uhm-"

He continued to make that same smile. The smile you have yet to interpret is genuine or not. "Ivan," he gives the fallen clipboard to you. "You can call me Ivan," his large hand lands on your head, at the same time you swore you heard a gasp from Italy. You didn't know what else to expect as his hand stroked your head for at least two seconds and then returned to his side.

Badump. Badump.

You hide your red face behind the clipboard until the bustling noise returned. "A-Are you Russia's girl?" stuttered Italian number two.

"What? No! We just met yesterday!" you claim. "I don't even know much about him."

Italy shivered behind his brother, "He's so scary!"

"Sort of, but he's pretty nice, I guess..." your voice drifts off as you shyly stare at Russia's wide back ahead of you. You mutter to yourself, "Ivan..." His head twisted to your direction and so you make full eye contact with Italy, "...Hi."

"Does he not frighten you?" Romano asked with suspicion.

"He did, but doesn't he remind you of a warm teddy bear?" you look back, but are disappointed since people began to line up.

"More like a cold harsh winter in Russia!" disagreed Romano. "Do you not feel the chills?!"

You look back at your clipboard and notice you ripped half the paper from digging your pen in it...and then falling. "So, is it not common to call each other by actual names?"

"It's much easier calling everyone by country!" Italy swirled to the end of the line. "Besides saying our names are pretty...personal."

...

You dragged yourself away from the large crowd with your plate of food and plopped back on your desk.

Everyone are really countries? How do they get along so well? Or even tolerate each other based on history. The war between England and America, well, I guess that's why they are hostile towards each other. What about the World Wars? Amazing how they don't display their grudges... And why isn't a professional working here?! I guess I got this job out of pure coincidence, but-

Nom.

Oh Jesus Christ this food is so fucking good.

You stuff another pancake covered with syrup in your mouth before going into the conference room and switching the lights on. "You wanker! You ate the last biscuit on purpose!" the yelling was trailing up the stairs.

"I did! And I didn't even enjoy it!" you hear America panting. He sees you, takes your shoulders and hides behind you, "COME AND GET ME BUSHY BROWS!" You uncomfortably move to wherever America pulled you as England tried to get around you. "YOU CAN'T CROSS THE BORDER BRO!"

"We aren't even connected you twit!"

You grab your plate of food and continue munching.

"BORDER RULES!" America still clutched your shoulders and took you inside the conference room. "Russia bro! Sit here!" he whispers to you, "He's my England repellent."

America sat Russia on his left side and you on his right and smirked proudly at his fort. Pretty damn sure this wasn't included in the application.

"Ugh, what a bloke," groaned England as he took his seat opposite of America probably to directly yell at his face later.

...

America liked to stand up and walk around the room most of the time, so there was an empty space between you and Russia. After eating your food you took your notebook and textbook out to practice Italian. However, Italy shoved the book away and spoke pure Italian to you the whole time. As little as you knew, his teaching turned out to be better than the book, even Germany was impressed. Once, America made an exclamation following a finger at England. Your gaze went down to Russia leaning on his right hand. He acknowledges your peek with a smirk.

On the second hour, Germany restored order when England threatened America with curses. One of the Nordic states spoke up, you couldn't tell who, but he liked to drink, "C'mon let's get along now and we can hit the nearest bar and get drunk later!" he holds up his cup of coffee imagining it as a beer mug.

You continued counting in Italian to yourself while tilting your head back "Dieci...undici..."

Italy failed to stay awake.

Phrases were next on your vocabulary, "Grazie...per favore..." You glance at Russia again who seemed to also doze off, "Ti amo."

"Let's conclude today's meeting here," sighed Germany. "Really, we are supposed to be addressing politics, but the only thing we focused on was food."

"You heard the dude the meeting is over!" cheered America. He leans over and pushes a check under your elbow, "Here's the pay _!"

Your eyes widen, and body shook when you saw the payment, "I CAN'T ACCEPT THIS!" Your outburst made those who were leaving look back and Russia wake up. You take America's arm, leaving the check on the table, and whisper, "That's just way too much for two days."

"Really? But you did so much hard work."

You shook your head, your honest ate at you. "No way! I hardly worked today and yesterday! I don't think I earned this much."

"Hmm," he scratches his chin with a finger. "How about think of this as a month's payment? Don't worry about it! We'll think of things to make you feel like you worked that ass off! Anyways you see how much of a handful we are."

"B-But," Germany places the check inside the textbook Italy shoved away and holds it out. "O-Okay..." America is startled as you immediately grab his hand and shake it with both of yours, "Thank you, Mr. Jones."

America shook his head with a red face, "NO NO NO AMERICA IS FINE! OH GOD." He tries to hide his blush, "Good night!"

"So polite!" admired Japan. He bows to you, "Good night _-chan, I hope to see you soon."

"Wait Japan, do you not want a ride!" Italy asked.

"I'm going with Germany," insisted Japan as he rushed out.

Italy ran after him. You approach Germany and shake his hand as well, "Uhm, thank you, Germany."

"For vat?"

"Being so...cool?"

A tint of pink shown on his cheeks, he looks away and scratches the back of his head. "Danke, _."

You peek behind Germany to see if Russia was still sitting down. To your dismay, he wasn't.

...

You heard voices in a distant room, but it still felt weird for the building to be quiet. No one yelling, or the clanging of silverware. Just your footsteps.

You felt the weight of Germany's binders and your textbook thump on your back. When opening the door you realize and ask yourself, "Do I even have a ride home?"

The cold wind hit your face along with cloth. Instinctively, you take hold of it and see it's a scarf that leads up to, "Russia." His silver hair shone more under the sunlight and you see more color on his cheeks and his nose. His violet eyes made you shudder, and blurt out, "You have beautiful eyes."

The ends of his mouth that usually held a smile twitched. He quickly faces his back to you for a few seconds, and then returns, "W-We can be good friends, don't you think?"

You nod your head, "Y-Yeah! We can!"

Oh man I totally lose my composure around this guy. DAMMIT.

His face lit up making your the atmosphere feel fluffy, "Really?"

Don't die on me heart.

"Mhmm!"

"Wow," he pulls his sleeve to check his watch. "How about lunch?"

"Sure," he begins walking and you attempt to match his walking pace.

A minute of silence felt like an hour. You tried to think of things to ask or randomly say, but instead it resulted to your mouth opening and closing. Russia suddenly stops, "Do you not find me intimidating?"

Without thinking you respond, "Oh, no, you're like a huge teddy bear to me."

Beautiful eyes? Teddy bear? FUCK YOU MIND.

You clear your throat, "AHEM. I mean-"

Instead of receiving a weird look, his eyes seemed to glimmer like a kid getting a puppy for Christmas. He then stares at you and ponders, "Hm..." Before you were able to question him he pets your head, "Kotyonok!"

"Eh?"

"A kitten!"