Alfred was in a bad mood. Actually, now that he thought about it, he'd had been in a rather foul mood for the last week. But regardless, he was in a particularly foul mood after they had left the suit shop. He didn't usually like clothes shopping in the first place, but shopping for formal wear had always been a nightmare. And that afternoon's suit fitting had been as bad as he remembered. His personal space had been invaded by an older gentlemen whose breath smelled like it had never met a toothbrush, and he had been poked and prodded by pins and the old man's fingers as he had been fitted. That and Russia kept making "clever" remarks about his weight, and they had gotten into another fight.
When they had returned home Alfred had sulked in his room for a few hours to heal his bruised pride, but eventually he dragged himself into the bathroom to get ready for that night. He was currently staring at his reflection with a scowl on his face. He was wearing his new black suit with a red and blue stripped tie, and he had just finished combing his hair back, but still had his cowlick sticking up. To put it simply, he looked elegant, and he hated it.
He had always preferred a more relaxed look, and when he wore clothes like this he couldn't help but feel like a rich asshole. Well, not that he wasn't rich. He was, but he didn't like dressing the part. He preferred to hang out with his citizens like a common Joe. Although England had always disapproved of that-
Alfred shook his head. No, he didn't need to let his mind wander down that road. Sighing, he made his way out of the bathroom. Hero immediately tried to run over to him, but Alfred had to prod Hero back with his shoe. "No Hero, the last thing I need is white cat hair on my new suit."
"Maybe we should have picked out something a little lighter." Ivan commented with a frown. He was sitting at the bar, his phone lying next to him with the directions to get to the restaurant. He was dressed in a dark grey suit with a plain black tie, but he had his white scarf still around his neck as usual. "I forgot about the fact you had a white cat."
"It's fine, I look terrible in white anyways." Alfred said, glancing down at his watch. "I think it's time we head out. Are you sure we can get into the restaurant?" He asked, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. "I mean, this is a super last minute thing."
"Do not worry about that." Ivan said with a cold smile. "My friends assured me that we would be in good hands tonight. There should be no trouble. And if there is…let's just say that I'll deal with it." He said, patting his coat were he usually hid his pipe.
"Well, that wasn't terrifying." Alfred muttered as he made his way over to the door. Hero meowed sadly, following Alfred.
"I'm sorry little fatty man." Alfred cooed as he grabbed his coat off of the table. "I promise I'll cuddle you when I get home."
"I still fail to see how calling him a fatty is endearing." Ivan commented, making his way to the door as well.
"It's meant with love, and that's all that matters." Alfred said with a laugh as he put on his gloves and opened the door.
They made their way down to the lobby, and to Russia's surprise and delight, Greg was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an older lady was reading a book at the desk. Ivan recognized her from a few days ago. Hearing them approach, she looked up and her eyes instantly landed on Alfred.
"Alfred dear!" She said with a delighted gasp. "Why, look at you! Where are you going at such an hour dressed like that?"
"Mrs. Carol!" Alfred said with a laugh, heading over to the desk and hugging the lady with a big smile. "It's been awhile!"
"Let me get a look at you." She said, taking a step back to look Alfred up and down. "Wait, don't tell me! You're on a date with a pretty girl!" She said with a cheeky grin.
Alfred's face flushed, and he shook his head with an embarrassed laugh. "Uh, no. Actually I'm-"
"Oh!" Mrs. Carol said, spotting Russia, who had been awkwardly standing in the corner of the room. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you swung that way. I didn't mean to assume."
"NO!" Alfred squawked, his face now burning red, franticly waving his hands. "He's a work friend of mine! It's not like that at all! We're going to a business dinner is all!"
Russia just buried his face into his scarf and desperately wished the floor would swallow him as the lady started to apologize again.
"Oh my, I'm sorry! But Alfred, you can't blame me for thinking that dear. You never bring any girls around. Me and Greg have been having our suspicions you know."
"Greg?" Ivan asked in horror, his face falling.
"This," Alfred said quickly, "is Greg's wife. They run this place together."
"It's a pleasure to meet you!" Mrs. Carol said cheerfully, giving Russia a small wave, which he awkwardly returned. "And you must be Ivan! Yes, my husband mentioned that he met you the other day. Look at you! You're just as tall as he said you were, and quite handsome as well!"
"Um, thank you." Ivan said, his cheeks turning slightly pink at the compliments.
"I'm sorry, we have to get going!" Alfred interrupted, much to Ivan's relief. "Reservations and all that, we can't be late."
"Oh yes! Well, you two have a fun night!" Mrs. Carol said with a soft smile. "And don't forget that I expect you to join me next week at our usual time. And don't forget your gloves this time! Greg said that you stretched his pair out."
"I'll buy him a new pair." Alfred said, pushing Ivan towards the door. "I'll get them to you tomorrow if I can. Okay, gotta go! Bye!" and with that, they both hurried out onto the street.
"She was…interesting." Ivan commented, looking mildly disturbed.
"She's a bit lively, I'll admit." Alfred said with an awkward chuckle. "But that's why most of the people in the apartments like her."
"What did she mean by usual time and gloves?" Ivan asked as Alfred flagged down a taxi.
"Oh, I volunteer at soup kitchens a few times a month." Alfred said with a smile. "She runs one, so I stop by once a month to help with the heavy lifting."
"That is nice of you." Ivan said in surprise, staring down at the younger nation in confusion.
"Well, you don't have to sound so surprised." Alfred huffed, glaring up at Ivan. "I've been volunteering at them for about a hundred years now."
"But I've never heard you mention it before."
"Why should I?" Alfred asked as the taxi pulled up.
"I thought as the self proclaimed hero you are you would have been telling everyone about it." Ivan said with a shrug.
"I don't do it to brag about it, and I don't do it to make myself look better. I do it to help people. And real heroes don't make themselves look better by using people less fortunate than them to look better. I'm not heartless you know." Alfred explained as he opened the taxi doors.
"I see." Ivan muttered thoughtfully.
" Now get in, we're going to be late!" Alfred said impatiently, motioning for Ivan to get a move on.
"Da."
_LineBreak_
"Are you sure this is the place?" France asked with a frown, looking up from his menu to look around the room again. They were in a large room with dark rich oak floor boards and light cream colored walls. They were sitting at a small table with a white table cloth covering it, with a small display of blue and yellow flowers in the center. They had been seated next to one of the many large windows that lined the walls, looking over the city sky line. The lights in the room were dimmed so that they could look out the windows without the glare interfering with the view. Around them were about twenty or more so tables, most of which were full of rich looking business men or older couples, dressed in their finest evening wear quietly chatting. Some waiters were walking past with food, while some others were going around the room pouring out wine.
"I am sure." Japan confirmed with a frown of his own. They had arrived at the restaurant about a half an hour ago, but Russia and America had yet to arrive. They had already ordered their drinks, but hadn't ordered anything to eat, much to the displeasure of their waiter.
"Do you think they changed their plans?" France asked worriedly, checking his watch again.
"I don't think so." Japan said. "I overheard Russia make the reservations this afternoon outside of the suit shop. I doubt they would be able to change their plans so quickly."
"Why was he outside the building?"
"He and America started arguing in the shop about something, and America kicked him out of the store."
"Ah, I see. But are you sure you weren't spotted?" France asked, tapping the side of his wine glass nervously. "Maybe they found out that we are following them."
"I am sure I was not spotted." Japan reassured. "If Russia had spotted me, he would have let me know."
"Let you know how?"
"By most likely walking right up to me and threatening me."
"How scary! To think America would fall in love with someone like him. Perhaps he is attracted to people with an opposite personality than him?" He pondered.
"Why do you believe that they are in love?" Japan asked, giving France a questioning look.
"It is quite obvious. They have been having sexual tension for years." France scoffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "The worst part is that neither of them realizes it yet, so they fight to try and sort out their feelings."
"Do you really think that?" Japan asked doubtfully. "Wouldn't it be more likely that they fight because they don't like each other?"
"I suppose so, but I just have a feeling that's not the case." France explained with a smirk. "My feelings are rarely wrong you know."
Japan didn't reply, just shook his head disapprovingly.
"You do not agree?" France asked in surprise. "I thought you also enjoyed pairing the other nations together."
"Well," Japan said with a slight blush, "I will not deny that I do, but I cannot see Russia and America working out. I believe Russia is up to something, but I have no proof to support my suspicions."
France laughed, shaking his head at Japan's words. "What would he be up too? He's clearly on America's turf, and I'm sure America and his government is keeping a close eye on him. He would have to be rather foolish to try anything."
"Like falling in love with America?" Japan asked, letting some of his bitterness bleed out into his words. France's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Japan's tone, and he studied Japan for a second. Then a large smile started to grow on his face.
"Oh?" He asked, leaning towards Japan with a knowing grin. "Am I mistaken, or is that jealously I hear?"
Japan sputtered for a second, and then he furiously shook his head. "No, of course not! I am just worried about America is all! America can be oblivious sometimes, so I am just making sure Russia does not do anything!"
"Of course, of course." France said with a chuckle, leaning back into his chair. "You are a good friend, but I think America can handle himself. He's not as dumb as he looks you know."
"I know." Japan sighed, picking up his menu again.
"Did you bring your camera?" France asked, pulling out his own disposable camera from his jacket.
"I am using my phone." Japan explained. "I thought bringing a camera would attract unwanted attention."
"Not as much as you would think." France said with a shrug, pocketing the camera. "This is New York, it is not unusual for tourists to carry them."
"Excuse me." A waiter asked as he walked up to the two nations with a nervous glance at France. "Are you ready to order?"
"Ah, I suppose I am." France said with a wink. "But I cannot seem to make up my mind tonight, so I may I ask what your personal favorite dish on the menu is?"
"Me sir?" The waiter asked in surprise. "Well, I suppose that would be the oysters."
"Then I shall have those. And you may surprise me with the appetizers and dessert. The same for my friend here." France said, waving at Japan.
"Of course sir." The waiter said, putting his hand out for the menus.
"Ah, you wouldn't mind letting us keep these, would you?" France asked sheepishly, glancing at the entrance of the room.
"Sir?" The waiter asked in confusion.
"Just in case I change my mind." France explained. The waiter just shrugged his shoulders. "Very well sir." And with one last confused look, he made his way back towards the kitchens.
"Why do we need the menus?" Japan asked in confusion.
"Put them up quickly." France hissed, hiding his face behind his. "They're here! Don't let them see us."
Japan quickly hid his face as well, and they watched as the two other nations were led into the room by an older man with salt and pepper hair and a heavy Russian accent, who Japan assumed was the host. America and Russia were dressed in rather expensive dinner suits, and Japan had to admit that they both looked rather nice. But while Russia looked quite relaxed and was talking easily with the host, America was eyeing the man nervously, and holding himself rather tensely.
"What?" France gasped, staring at the duo in disbelief.
"What is wrong?" Japan asked in alarm.
"That is the owner of the restaurant!" France whispered angrily, pointing at the older man, who was now seating America and Russia at a nearby table. "When I called in tonight he wouldn't even speak to me personally, even though I'm a famous critic! How on earth did they get his attention!?"
"Maybe they had connections?" Japan offered unsurely.
"Yes, but which one has the connection to him?" France asked, eyeing the two nations jealously. "I doubt it would be America, seeing as the boy couldn't tell a salad fork from a dinner fork to save his life, but then the likely hood of Russia knowing anyone in the city is slim to none!"
They watched as Russia said something to the owner in Russian, making the man laugh loudly. They saw America looking between the two men with a confused expression, and then the owner handed them two menus and with a slight bow, he walked back towards the kitchens. America started to ask Russia something, but Russia just shook his head at whatever America was asking.
"Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that conversation." France fumed. "I wish they had been seated closer to us. What on earth are could they be talking about?!"
_AlfredandRussiaPOV_
"So, that was the head of-" Alfred started to ask, but Ivan quickly shook his head, holding out a hand to cut off Alfred.
"The only reason you were allowed through those doors with me was because he is under the impression you have no idea who he is." Ivan warned. "Do not ask any questions while we are here, because the walls are always listening. If you wish to remain without bullet holes in your skull, you should probably be quiet."
"Okay, but what did you tell them about me to get me in?" Alfred asked in alarm, trying not to look around the room in a panic.
"Only that you are an important business partner of mine, and that we are here on business." Ivan explained said with a reassuring smile. "Do not worry; they will not poison your drink."
"Oh yeah, that's real comforting." Alfred hissed. "Do they poison people's drinks often enough to worry about it?!"
"Let's just say that if they knew you were getting the wine for the Italian brothers they would have likely poisoned the bottles." Ivan explained. "They don't exactly take too well with the Italian mafia, or those who know members."
"Wait, the Italian brothers are in the mafia?! Wait, don't tell me. I don't want to know. This was a bad idea." Alfred groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "Is it too late to go home?"
"I am afraid so." Ivan said with a chuckle. "I have arranged it so that we will get the bottles on the way out, but if we leave now we would be insulting our host. It is only a dinner, my little comrade. As long as we don't make a scene we should be fine."
America sighed, and just shook his head in defeat. "Okay. But just to let you know, this is the last time I'm listening to any of your plans. Even my stupidest plans don't involve people who want to kill me handling my food. And you wanted to get them to pick us up from my house."
"It would have been cheaper than the taxi." Russia argued. "And do not worry. You are under my protection here."
"I'm going to die." Alfred groaned.
"I find your lack of faith disturbing." Ivan huffed as he opened his menu.
"Did you really just quote star wars?" Alfred asked in amusement.
"Maybe." Ivan said with a smirk.
"Hmm, I think you'd be a good Darth Vader. You certainly have the height for it." Alfred said with a small smile as he opened his menu.
"I'm afraid I don't have a deep enough voice for that role." Ivan said with a laugh. "But I think I'd be rather good as Chewbacca."
"Because you're cuddly and cute?" Alfred joked.
"No, because I like the character and I want the bowcaster he uses."
"Yeah, that thing was sweet. I would want to be Han Solo." America said with a grin.
"I could see you as Solo." Ivan agreed. "But I think you would be better as Luke. England could be Darth Vader, and you could be the son who destroys the empire."
"Wow, that makes a little bit too much sense." Alfred said in amazement. "Who would play the emperor?"
"King George."
"Yeah, that could work." Alfred snickered. "Oh, I know, China could play Yoda! You know, seeing as he's an ancient dude who keeps trying to give younger people advice." Alfred put on a serious expression. "Surrounded by dark omens you are. Nearby Russia is. Hmmm!" He mimicked, nodding his head wisely.
Ivan, who had been taking a drink from his water, choked on it as he started to laugh. "That was perfect!" He wheezed though a mixture of coughing and laughter.
"You think?" Alfred asked with a grin, as Ivan wiped off his face.
"Yes. Let me try one." Ivan said as he cleared his throat. "Alfred," he said in a deep voice, raising his hand dramatically. "I am your brother. Join me, and we can rule the burned out kitchen together!"
America started to roar with laughter, and had to cover his mouth when some of the tables around them threw them annoyed glares. America gave them an apologetic smile, but continued to chuckle. "Oh my god, that was hilarious!"
"Do you think we could get England to say that when he gets drunk again?" Ivan asked with his own grin.
"It wouldn't be the first time I got him to do something stupid while drunk." Alfred giggled. "Oh, I just had an idea. Italy and his brother could play cp3o and r2d2. They bicker enough to fit the roll."
"Would Italy be cp30 or r2d2?" Ivan asked.
"Oh, he would defiantly be cp30." Alfred said. "And his brother would be r2d2 without question. I mean, they had to censor everything that tin can said, so Lovino would be a perfect fit!"
"Who would be Princess Leia?" Russia wondered.
"Oh, defiantly Hungary." America said with a nod. "She has enough spunk to play the role. But then I guess Han Solo would be played by Prussia?"
"I could see that. He certainly has enough swagger for the part."
Just then, a waiter approached them. "Good evening gentlemen." He said coolly. "Have you decided on what to drink tonight?"
"I will have a bottle of Golden Line, and my friend here will have a glass of cider." Then Ivan paused. "Non alcoholic if you don't mind." He added.
"Very good. And have you decided on what you would like to order?"
"Steak, well done." Ivan said with a smirk, handing the menu back to the waiter. The waiter raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.
"I'll have the steak as well, medium well." Alfred said giving Ivan a judging look as the waiter took his menu.
"Very well. Your dinner will be out shortly." And with a final nod, the waiter left.
"You disgust me." Alfred said, glaring at Ivan, who just smiled. "Who the hell orders a steak well done?"
"Is that so unusual?" Ivan asked innocently.
Alfred paused, then he narrowed his eyes at the older nation, who kept innocently looking back at him. "You're doing this on purpose aren't you?"
"Doing what?"
"You know what. You're doing this to bug me." Alfred said in an accusing tone.
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"So you didn't just order a tough chewy steak to mess with me, but because you like it?"
"What's wrong with a steak being well done?" Ivan asked, tilting his head slightly to the side, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
"You can't be serious."
"I am very serious."
"That cow died in vain." Alfred said mournfully. "To think good meat would be wasted on someone who likes meat cooked well done."
"I assure you, it is not a big deal."
"Lies! Meat is supposed juicy and tender, not taste like leather!"
"But it lasts longer when it is more chewy." Ivan explained. Alfred looked like he was about to cry, and then hung his head in defeat.
"How could this happen?" He asked in horror as Ivan just watched in amusement.
"I had no idea you were so passionate about food." Ivan commented.
"Dude, I love food! Of course I'm passionate about it!" Alfred said, looking up at Ivan with a fiery look in his eyes. "Food is awesome! But what's not awesome is ruining food! Like cooking a steak well done!"
"You mean like putting marshmallows in a casserole?" Ivan asked as the waiter placed their drinks on the table.
"Are you dissing my sweet potato casserole?" Alfred asked with an offended gasp. The waiter wisely decided he wanted no part of their conversation and hurried away.
"Not at all, I am simply saying that you make less than rational decisions when it comes to combing food sometimes." Ivan said easily.
"No I don't." Alfred denied.
"Peanut butter and Jelly?"
"That's a classic."
"Chicken and waffles?"
"Savory and sweet."
"Root beer?"
"How dare you."
"Easy cheese?"
"Amazing."
"Spam?"
Alfred paused. "Yeah, okay. I'll let you have that one. But the rest of those are really good!"
Ivan just shook his head. "I do not think you should be telling anyone how to eat."
"But-"
Ivan looked Alfred straight in the eyes. "Donut Burgers."
"Once. I eat that once and no one lets me forget." Alfred said with a pout. "And come on, everyone knows that well done steaks are the worst. You can ask anyone! Well…except maybe England."
"I suppose we will have to agree to disagree." Ivan said with a shrug as the waiter returned with their salads.
"Never."
_FranceandJapan'sPOV_
France was frustrated. He and Japan had been there for two hours and four courses, and they hadn't gotten any closer to getting any solid evidence they needed. In fact, it seemed to France that America and Russia were doing everything except acting romantic, much to his dismay. They were just talking, laughing, or bickering every now and then, but nothing that he could say for sure was intimate. He glumly watched as they were served their ice cream, and America getting excited over the amount of sauce was on his dessert.
Glancing over at his partner, he noticed that Japan didn't look too upset about the outcome of the evening. In fact, much to France's annoyance, Japan looked quite happy with how they were acting.
"You are looking rather pleased." France grumbled as he pushed away his own dessert, too upset to eat anything else.
"Do I?" Japan asked in surprise. "Well, I must admit I am pleased in a way. It doesn't seem like Russia is up to anything, so I don't have to worry about America anymore."
"Good for you, mon ami." France huffed. "As for myself, I could not be more disappointed."
"Oh?"
"It seems that I may have been wrong." France sighed, watching the other nations with a disappointed sigh. "It is a hard pill to swallow, but I must admit defeat." France waved at a nearby waiter for the check, and then turned to face Japan again. "I suppose this means you can now chase America freely."
Japan chocked on his mousse. "What!?" He asked in alarm.
"Come, come!" France said with a click of his tongue. "Do not lie to big brother France. I know you only followed America because you have some sort of feeling for him. Maybe not enough to act upon, but enough to make you wear your emotions on your sleeves. Green is not a good color on you."
"He is my friend, nothing more." Japan denied, a frown growing on his face.
"If you say so." France said with an unconvinced shake of his head. Glancing back at the other table, his eyes grew wide. "Oh Mon Dieu!" France said excitably, quickly grabbing his camera out of his pocket. Confused, Japan looked over at the table and he felt his mouth drop. He watched as Russia leaned in towards America, a smirk on his face, and America slightly blushing. Then America smirked back, and scooping a bit of ice-cream on his spoon, he put it on Russia's nose, leaving an ice-cream mark. America laughed as Russia went crossed eyed in confusion.
"Perfect!" France cackled, clicking away. "Just a few more like these and everyone will believe me!"
Japan watched in horror as Russia laughed, wiping the ice-cream off of his face and asking a passing waiter for the check.
"I was not wrong." France said gleefully. "We have to follow them! Waiter!" France said excitably.
Japan couldn't help but feel dread as he watched America and Russia getting up from the table, making their way towards the exit. It couldn't be…it could never happen…could it?
_AmericaandRussiaPOV_
"You did not have to put ice cream on my face to prove your point you know." Ivan chuckled as they made their way towards the exit.
"Well, that's what you get for saying that ice cream sucks." Alfred said, sticking his tongue out at Ivan. "If you weren't so smug about it I wouldn't have done it."
"I just said Italian ice is better." Ivan said in exasperation.
"Wrong." Alfred said.
"And who puts cherry sauce on top of ice-cream?" Ivan asked as they were approached by the owner, who was holding two boxes in his hands.
"Me, that's who. I don't like having chocolate sauce every time you know. Although the candles on the table did make it look really tasty. The whole bowl turned pink due to the reflection."
"It made you look positively pink. You looked silly."
"You're just jealous that my complexion is better than yours." Alfred said with a grin.
Ivan rolled his eyes as the owner caught up to them.
"There you are." He said with a sly grin, handing Ivan the two boxes. "I am rather sorry to see these go, but I suppose that is just business." He glanced at Alfred with a knowing smirk. "Aren't you a little young to be here?"
Ivan was about to speak up, but the owner held up a finger. "Ivan, the boy is old enough to speak for himself." He said with a dangerous look at Alfred. "Right, boy?"
"Yes, I am." Alfred said smoothly, giving the man his famous Hollywood smile.
"I do not think Ivan explained what business you are in together." The owner said casually, but his eyes never left Alfred's. "Would you mind telling me?"
Ivan stiffened slightly, and his eyes quickly snapped to the other nation worriedly as Alfred reached into his jacket, still smiling.
"Oh, he didn't tell you?" Alfred asked cheerfully. Then to everyone's surprise, he pulled out a business card and handed it to the owner. "Names Alfred Jones, and I'm currently a home designer. Ivan's been looking for a house here in New York and I've been trying to hook him up."
"Oh?" The owner said, reading the card with interest.
"Yeah, I've been letting him stay at my place while he's house hunting, as a favor for a friend. He insisted on taking me out to dinner to repay me." Alfred said with a shrug.
"Well, a friend of Ivan's is a friend of mine." The owner said with a chuckle, putting the card into his front pocket. "I hope to see you both again." He gave them a final nod and then walked off. Ivan felt himself releasing the breath he had been holding, and he pushed Alfred out the door as fast as he could without making it look suspicious. As soon as they had gotten into the elevator, Ivan turned on Alfred.
"Why," Ivan asked with a hint of anger in his voice, glaring down at the younger nation, "did you tell him your real name, and the fact that I am rooming with you?"
"The best lies have a sprinkle of truth in them." Alfred said with a shrug. "This isn't my first time dealing with mobs you know, so I had a cover ready."
Ivan stared at Alfred for a second, before letting out a relived laugh. "I see your cold war tendencies haven't dulled."
"Nope." Alfred said with a smug grin. "And if he really wants to check up on what I said, he'd find I was telling the truth. Even the thing about being a home designer is real. I actually was one a few years ago, so if he tries to dig up anything on that he'll find some lovely decorated apartments sprinkled around the city. Plus, you wanted them to come to my apartment in the first place, so don't act so mad."
"I wouldn't have given them your real name." Ivan said in exasperation. "And telling them I'm rooming with you might get you in trouble."
"I doubt that. And it's not like I'm a threat to them in any way." Alfred scoffed. "I'm a freaking home designer to them. What am I going to do, threaten to redecorate their living rooms in a lovely shade of blue?"
"Why were you even a home designer?" Ivan asked in bewilderment.
"I got bored, needed a hobby." Alfred said with a shrug.
"So why does your apartment look so ugly?" Ivan asked with a chuckle.
"Okay, screw you. I like my apartment!" Alfred said with a laugh, playfully pushing Ivan. "Anyways, how about we get out of these monkey suits and order a pizza. This place didn't have nearly large enough servings to fill me up."
"I know, that steak was too small." Ivan grumbled. "What is it with fancy restaurants and having super small food?"
"Man, I have no idea." Alfred said as they reached the bottom floor.
_FrancePOV_
France hummed as he walked into his hotel room, pulling his tie off and throwing it over the side of the couch. Canada looked up from the armchair where he had been watching a movie and saw that France was looking through his phone with a grin.
"Have a good hunt?" Canada asked with a yawn.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" France said with a smirk, taking off his coat and walking towards the fridge with a happy whistle.
"I don't think I want to." Canada sighed, turning the T.V. on mute. "Where's Japan?"
"He said he wasn't feeling rather well, and decided to head back to his hotel." France said with a shake of his head. "Unfortunately for him he couldn't find any malicious intent from Russia to America, so it was a bit of a wasted trip for him. He was most disappointed."
"Well, I suppose that's good." Canada said, relaxing a bit. "Did you get what you needed?"
"Not what I thought I would." France admitted. "But I suppose so." France grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and strolling towards his room. "I'm going to be working on my power point for the meeting, so I will say goodnight."
"Night." Canada said with a wave, turning the sound back on. France quietly closed his door, then with a maniacal laugh he ran towards his computer and pulled out his camera. He downloaded the pictures, and giggled as he pulled up England's email. He was sure that he would want to be the first to know.
A/N: Oh me, oh my… France, what have you done? Next chapter coming soon! Comments welcome.