A/N: IM sooo sorry I haven't updated! It's been what…5 months? Anyways I'm really sorry to all you guys who were waiting for this. I have been really busy and when I'm not I have writer's block agh. Anyways, I'll try to keep this updated. Hope you guys the first part of this one shot ^^ Again, R&R is welcomed, constructive criticism is welcomed and erm grammar ones two because I seem to have that bad habit of forgetting grammar rules when I write fiction. Okay, now without further ado, here it is!

Part one:

Change of Plans

"Lovi! Lovi! Looovi-"

Lovino groaned as the persistent shrills of his brother became less and less tolerable. He knew that he should have answered the first time, listened to whatever the hell he had to say and then his brother would be content and leave him alone; even if it was for only a couple of minutes. It would have been better now that he thought about it, but his stubbornness and pride wouldn't let him. Feli had to learn, he had to learn to shut up and that when people don't answer you that means to stop talking. The kid was a freak'n boom box with no off switch , a freak'n mega phone that always said the same shit over and over again, "Pasta Pasta ve" "Pizza, Pizza ve," and "Luddy Luddy ve~". Maybe, just maybe, if his brother would be less hyperactive and less stupid Lovino could actually talk to him, like, really talk to him. Alas you can't control your brother's personality, no matter how dumb it is.

"Lovi Loooovi lovi—"

"Zitto!(1) Dammit Feli, can't you be quiet for just a second!?" Feliciano cringed at his older brothers outburst; Lovi could be really scary.

"Eh, oh scusate(2) fratello, I just wanted you to know that…uh." The Italian stopped to see his older brother facing him.

Lovino took a sip from his coffee, staring intently and annoyingly at Feli making the small boy let out a nervous chuckle.

"Well?"

"Ah well, you know how we were going to that restaurant on what was it now….uh

"Clover street stupido."

"Ah yes Clover street! Yes I knew that!"

"Dio Mio…" Lovino scratched his nose and looked back down at his coffee. He clicked his tongue, trying to savor the taste. Something was odd; the coffee was too bitter. Lovino took another sip and then smelled the dark drink. Sugar, that's what's missing. He actually liked his coffee black but with Italy being such a nuisance his dark love became bitter and well, it wasn't the same. He would pick some up later, of course after Italy was done rambling.

He looked up to see his brother.

Apparently not yet. "Feliciano. Get. To . The .Point."

"Ha…okay you know , well America—"

Lovino's eyes shoot up. "America?", Feli gulped, "What about America?"

"Well, he is kinda taking us out..to eat…I sort of promised he could."

Earlier that week Lovino was in good mood, Italy taking note of this, took the chance and invited his big brother to eat the next Friday. They were in the states for the world meeting and since Lovino had forgotten his American currency and was to prideful to ask Alfred for some, who the hell needs him anyways, would live off his tomatoes and some bread he brought from home. But not Friday, Lovino was all Feliciano's.

Or so he thought.

"What?"

"Era tutto all'ultimo minuto(3)"

Romano lifted an eyebrow at his brother's now crying figure, suddenly feeling the small coffee cup scrunch under his fists. Black Itallian roast gushed out like a decapitated victim. Its dark liquid running down Lovino's hands like veins ; increasing Feliciano's dread. Not his coffee..

"Oh signore(4)." Feli muttered, he inched away from Lovino, wrinkling under his hard hazel glare.

"Oh signore is damn right….."

The past week had been a real ass-kicker for Maria. Four meetings, four different locations, four different continents, and four different languages. The travel didn't really bother Maria, it was actually kinda fun. Putting aside the jet lag and time differences, the business travel was a blessing in disguise, allowing her to travel the world. It was always a pleasure meeting countries and their people, food and customs—always an adventure! Yet after having the pleasure to take this week "off" the Latina wasn't feeling it.

What made these meetings and traveling different?

"Mexico! Pass the ketchup man! My fries feel naked here!"

Alfred F. Jones was in every single one of them.

"Can you please give me some space? Me estas molestando.."(5)

"Oh quit your whining and pass da ketchup!" The American reached his hands forward, his big hard shoulders crushing Maria against the wall. Her cheeks bumped into the cold surface along with her shoulders and side; it made her nervous. America was a strong nation, giving off his "top-of-the-world- super-power" aura off, making anyone in a ten mile radius succumb under its weight. And this is if you're a "normal" country! Imagine a stage 2 country standing side by side with a stage 4. Pretty draining. Physically and well….egotistically.

"C-can you please get off me!"

"Hold up Mex, almost got it!" Alfred's long fingers itched towards the red bottle and with a final stretch (to Maria's dismay) he reached his beloved sauce.

"I don't understand why you even like that crap; it's not even made out of real tomato." Mexico sighed looking at her tuna melt. Honestly, sometimes she felt as if America's food was a hard slap in the face. You'd think that once in a nice "stable" country you get the best, well, apparently not. Americans didn't use spices whatsoever, you could forget about natural juice (would she kill for a guava drink right now), and let not forget that abomination they have at Taco Bell and Jack in the Box. The girl shuddered and shook her head in dismay. How dare he make a joke out of the taco!

'I swear, if one more pinche (6) Americano asks me for a hard shelled taco with cheese and cream, I WILL murder Alfred'

The American scoffed, sending her a playful glare, " It is made of real tomatoes! If you read the nutrition labels you'd know that."

"Oh yeah, like that's totally reliable."

The American was about to protest when his phone rang. Soon you could hear the loud catchy Super Mario theme at full blast. It wasn't long till everyone was staring at the two nations.

"Shiiiit," the American fumbled in his pockets looking for his phone ,while the small Mexican gave the customers around them apologetic looks. "Sorry, so sorry"

"H-hello?"

Maria looked at the blond then back to her tuna melt; would he notice if she didn't eat it? Oh but she felt so bad! Maria never was the one to waste food, no matter how bland, awful or gross it was. As a country with 33% of its population living in moderate poverty, food was always a valued thing.

"Oh yeah, no of course not!"

'who is he talking to?'

"you know what," At this Alfred looked at Mexico, giving her a sluggish smile, which in turn made her raise a brow, "I'll meet you there in ten minutes, uh you don't mind if I bring a friend along right?"

"America who is that—"

America waved her off, hand motioning her to get all her stuff, "we're leaving an a bit" he mouthed to her.

"No, it's not Prussia, haven't seen the dude in ages!" Mexico remained silent waiting for Alfred's next move. "Ok see ya there." Once he hung up his phone her turned to Maria and pointed to her sandwich, "You gonna eat that?"

She blinked twice, "Uh no, not now but I uh –"

"Good!" he grabbed the melt, along with his fires and half eaten burger and threw it away in the nearest trash can. Mexico looked at the trash can in horror as the American got his things and made his way to the door.

"Dude let's go! We'll eat somewhere else," He was tapping his foot impatiently as he put on his bomber jacket.

"Why would you-"

"Don't even start, you weren't going to eat it anyway." He motioned her to the door.

"Oh Dios perdóname" (7)

A/N:

Hope you guys enjoyed this! Again, criticism is welcomed!

Ok, translations!

up

was all at the last minute

lord

are bothering me

one is tricky but ok, 'pinche' would be best described as an alternative word..? Like, instead of fucking you'd use freaking. But it's a word on its own..? I don't know, Spanish slang is hard to explain.

forgive me

Kaiga!