America turned back to the television sipping his now cold coffee as he waited for the Russian to arrive. He sighed and shifted uncomfortably after a couple minutes had passed. When he had made the phone call he was pretty hungry, but now he was starting to feel really uncomfortable. After months of starving his body wasn't exactly feeling fond of missing even one meal, let alone the series that America already had. He placed his hand on his stomach as it rumbled and just as it did, a knock tapped through the door. America felt his heart race excitedly and he jumped out of bed, slipped on his shoes, and then opened the door. Russia was met by a disheveled man who had clearly been wearing the same suit the day before. It was wrinkled as though the man had slept in it as well and he hadn't even bothered to tuck his shirt back in or straighten the collar. He felt a little sick to his stomach seeing how pale and sallow the blonde still looked and worried about the dark bags under his eyes.
America shifted from foot to foot anxiously as he closed the hotel door behind him. With his stomach still aching he started to walk down the hall, turning back in confusion when he noticed the Russian wasn't following him.
"Hey, Commie? You coming?"
Russia was silent for a moment before he began processing what the American had said. "Ah, yes."
"Spaz," America muttered without any bite. "Come on Russia, hurry it up! I'm starving over here!" Russia's expression grew dark for a moment.
"You nearly starved to death without concern, but you are making a fuss over being late to one meal?" America's stomach grumbled loudly in protest which the man tried to silence with a hand.
Seeing America's blush, Russia started to understand. "When did you last eat?"
"Hahaha, first I'm too fat and now you're worrying about me eating enough? Way to be bipolar…" Russia gave him a pointed stare.
"I haven't worried about you being too fat for a while, Amerika. Something tells me you aren't exactly here with provisions." The American ignored him as they stepped into the elevator and rode to the bottom floor. The doors opened and Russia realized that America intended to ignore the question completely. Oh well, he would squeeze it out of him eventually. They stepped out in to the streets of London, looking for which direction they should head.
"Do you have any idea where one of these 'restaurants' you're so fond of may be?"
"Not off the top of my head, but I'm sure I could figure it out." America sniffed the air tentatively and then started off to the west.
"What are you a pointer?"
"Oh, shut it," America snapped rolling his eyes as they walked. "It shouldn't be too far, maybe a couple more blocks."
They walked the rest of the way in silence as America concentrated on where he was going and Russia wondered how the hell the other man could smell a fast food joint from a half mile away. Sure, the places reeked of inedible messes of lard, but still! He'd be owing Prussia twenty bucks on this one... Who would have thought the prankster German would have been telling the truth?
As soon as the yellow double arch was in view, America's pace easily doubled. The symbol relaxed him immensely, reminding him of his home country and people. He opened the door and strode to the counter with upmost confidence as the Russian lulled uncomfortably by the entrance. Without pausing to look at the menu he caught eyes with a cashier and smiled playfully. She raised an eyebrow curiously, questioning the man's sanity before he asked, "Are you ready?"
"Uhmm… yes?"
"Excellent! Well in that case, I'll take five double cheese burgers, three orders of large fries, two apple pies, a large soda, and a large cup of coffee." She stared at the cash register shocked for a moment before looking sheepishly back at the foreigner.
"D'ja think you could repeat that, sir?" America looked disappointed for a moment before starting again.
"Yeah, no problem." He repeated himself slowly this time allowing the woman to press the necessary buttons before he moved on. When she finally finished he waved Russia over to pay the bill.
"W-Will that be all for you?" She asked, slightly worried.
"Yeah, thanks." America whistled to himself and patted his hands to entertain himself as the bill was paid. He walked contentedly to the next counter as Russia followed him silently.
"Who all do you intend to feed with that?" America rolled his eyes.
"Just me," he smiled to himself as the other man looked at him in disgust. The disgust on his face only increased as the bags were handed out. He could see the spots where the grease had turned the cheap paper translucent and shuddered. They walked over to a table and America plopped down with the first bag already open and Russia stared at the seats apprehensively. The British had done little to improve either the quality of the food (no surprise there) or the cleanliness of the American restaurant chain. He sighed in submission taking a mental note to have Estonia wash his coat when he got home. Blood was one thing, but this was nauseating.