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New York City.
The city that never slept, bustling with life.
People and vehicles flooded the streets, surrounded by the neon signs and billboards plastered onto the sides of glass buildings. Pedestrians stood at its crosswalks, waiting for the cars to go by.
One, a foreigner fidgeted nervously in his place, squished in the middle of the building crowd. He wore a black turtleneck underneath his loose dress shirt, forgetting how much warmer NYC was. And he felt the difference, noting how miserable his stay was going to be.
His white hair stuck to his face - dead set in a scowl with eyebrows that downturned, a mean look especially soured by the fact he didn't want to be there, surrounded by bodies. It was suffocating. He'd never seen so many people before.
Their beady human eyes all stared ahead, pointed at the blinking screen of a hand. The longer he stayed in one place, he could hear his heartbeat thumping louder as he counted down the timer.
3... 2... 1.
SCREECH
Just as the crosswalk signaled to walk, a sleek black limousine blew a red traffic light as it turned the corner, catching the attention of a few drivers that honked while it flew past. Smoke tailed behind it, with the bold blue letters on the plate shamelessly reading "U.S. GOVERNMENT."
The wheels of the limo sounded a horrible squeal as it skidded to a stop, pulling up at a restaurant. Two bodyguards propped themselves to either side of the door, letting out a young man. He stepped onto the red carpet, pulling on his dress coat.
He wore a black suit, a tucked in white dress shirt and ruby tie that hung neatly around his shirt collar. His sunglasses labeled him as a mysterious figure, as they were dark enough to cover up half of his expression. It was all in the smile.
"Handsome," the tabloid magazines would call him.
His long strides read as confident. Cameras clicked as he passed by, to which he fixed himself a smile and waved to, even as the light shot at his glasses. Reporters knocked themselves over, fighting to call out their oddly personal inquiries. It was typical of his public appearance. He was used to it.
His entourage of bodyguards tried the best they could to contain the people, but a few had already slipped onto the carpet, frantically waving their cameras and microphones as they snapped photos from behind. They were a loud bunch too, incredibly rowdy and shouting their unhinged questions. Paparazzi. A bodyguard rushed him to the restaurant's entrance, their cries getting louder as he reached the doors.
"America! What's your relationship with Ru-"
The doors slammed behind him. America seemed to look behind himself for a moment, cocking his brow disdainfully as he frowned, but continued to follow his escort.
He was led to the family's private room, which had been reserved for them about yesterday. He grinned to himself, barely able to hide it. Not being human had its perks, they had been moved up the guest list.
The place held a gorgeous view of New York's Manhattan Bridge, which stood against the navy skies that bled into a smog gray. Certainly, it was worth whatever the government spent for him to dine here.
His eyes trailed over to the empty table, already set up as if they were prepared for him to arrive earlier. He checked his watch. 9:37 PM. They should've been here by now.
"Mon chéri!"
The sound of red heels clicking against the tile floors could be heard, growing louder as a tall woman approached him. Three stripes ran down her face, in a consecutive order of blue, white and then red.
France.
The long black train of her dress bounced up and down behind her as she sashayed, wrapped in one of her white fur boas.
Her rosy cheeks lit up as she caught wind of America's own growing smile, bringing him into a tight embrace.
"Oh, my Meri!" She cooed, kissing him on both cheeks.
"I'm happy to see you too." He grinned.
A single file line of cameramen walked from behind her, branching off to the either sides of the room and surrounded their table.
Their cameras snapped as UK, holding both Australia and New Zealand by the hand, entered the room. They all matched in their gray suits, making US out to be the only outlier.
UK stepped forward to shake his hand, exchanging an amused smile as he playfully shook off New Zealand.
"My, have you grown! You're no longer a little boy." He said aghast.
"You seem well off your business trip, Father." The American remarked, taking a hold of his gloved hand.
"Yes, however, do take off those shades," UK chuckled, gesturing to the venue. "You should be enjoying the view."
"My apologies."
USA kept a smile, and once shielded from the cameras, he tucked his sunglasses away and joined France. Interlocking their arms, he proudly led her to the table first. She giggled softly to the cameras, touched. "I've raised quite the gentleman!"
"That you have." UK added with the hint of a grin, taking a seat by his wife.
"Not without you, my dear."
The two lovebirds exchanged a small peck as the twins snickered in their seats. They were a sweet couple, it was hard to believe the marriage was arranged with how well they got along.
After they truly settled in, the lead cameraman stepped up to interview, clicking his pen. "So, how long have you two been wed?"
"Long enough," UK swooned, keeping his eyes on France. "I can barely keep count."
"-It is about over a decade!" She teased, hugging his arm while she nodded in agreement.
"Aww. What a lovely couple. How are the rest of you?" He moved on rather quickly, to patronize their sons.
America cleared his throat, speaking up first, "I'd like to say I'm very honored to be here with my family. I'm happy to see that all are doing well." He nodded to the twins. "Especially those two - the troublemakers. My father's quite the strong man for having to deal with them." He earned a polite laugh from his father, messing with the tie Australia had undone.
"Heyyy, I haven't even done anything today! No pranks, nothing!" Australia chimed in and stuck out his tongue.
NZ was silent. He just stared ahead, fixating on the food as the waiters arrived with their platters. As soon as his dish was set in front of him, he quietly flinched in horror. It was a plate of a chunky lamb cut, soaked in a puddle of lemon sauce. Freshly clipped herbs were stacked against its side, the only thing he would bother eating.
He received a soft shoulder nudge from US, who nodded to the cameras pointed at them. Your turn, NZ.
New Zealand tried his best to forget the slab of meat in front of him, offering a shy smile to the interviewer as he mumbled an answer. "...f-fine. I'm doing fine."
And as soon as the cameras shifted after, he leaned towards America and whined. "Ame... I can't eat sheep."
Ame continued looking straight ahead with a smile, trying to causally mouth his response. "Kiwi. You should at least take a bite, it's to be respectful."
"No! I really can't-" he scoffed at his food, holding a firm tone. "I don't eat lamb."
"...pretend it's chicken."
"This looks nothing like chicken!"
"Boys?" UK raised an eyebrow over their loud chattering, gesturing to the cameras in warning. "Is something wrong?"
"No, Father." America replied coolly. Kiwi stiffened at his change of tone, quickly shutting himself up as well. The loud, uncomfortable whirring of a camera's lenses focused on them, catching US's attention, who sighed.
"It's a deal then!"
He sounded a loud clap, grinning to New Zealand as he gathered everyone's attention. He rose to take control of the interview, naturally relaxing when he turned to the cameras. The stage lights were now on him, beating down hard on his face, yet he continued on as normal.
"I promised that if this-" he winked at his younger brother, " -little goofball here, eats his veggies, I'd buy him dessert."
NZ caught up quickly with the lie, perking up at the offer and generously helping himself to the pile of sprouts on his plate. US thought to tie it up, diverting the attention to France. NZ had gotten enough of the spotlight for one day.
"Well! What'd I tell you?" He hummed in amusement, quietly chuckling underneath his breath before he continued. "France had to bribe me with sweets just to get me to eat vegetables!"
France laughed along, politely covering her mouth as she spoke.
"Oui! Any pastry really, you had such the sweet tooth." She pinched his cheek, "And cost me the most trouble!"
The whole family burst into laughter in sync.
One of the camera guys rolled their eyes, muttering in another's ears before he turned back to them.
"Cut!" He called out with a snap of his fingers. "Advertisement break. We'll return to take two."
And at once, the family's cheerful faces fell. The American poured himself a glass of wine in advance, awaiting the freak show about to fall upon them as UK and France turned to one another. It was like watching war. Except both parties were your unstable parents that were as fake as the characters on reality TV.
The way France's lip curled up in the slightest, how UK's eyebrows twitched in a downturned position just as he paused her advance to take a sip of red wine. His jaw clenched as she spoke, with words that seemed so sweet yet dripped with venom as she delivered them. America had observed it all throughout the years.
"Australia. New Zealand. Out of the room." He clicked his tongue in annoyance, shooing away the boys.
They stared at him, concerned. "What about you, Meri?" Australia muttered, anxiously looking in-between him and their parents.
"UK. I trust that you're "trying" to be convincing - mais Dieu. You are bad at it. How did you have me fooled for 15 years?"
"This, again? You really can't get over feeling like such a victim, can you? You'd cry your eyes out for the camera if you could."
"You tore this family apart. At least I wasn't the one bais-"
America cut in and plugged both of their ears. "I'll be fine, Aussie."
Kiwi snatched up his half eaten dish, dumping the mutton underneath the table innocently before he turned back to Meri.
"Come."
"He makes a compelling argument, Meri." Aussie commented, pulling away from his hold.
"So, let's go." NZ spoke bitterly, glaring a hole through America.
America groaned. He knew that gaze. He put his hands up reluctantly, muttering, "You win."
New Zealand grabbed him by his collar, pulling him down in front of the cameras as they took off toward the exit. Australia followed closely behind, shoving them out for good as he casted a few glances back at the table.
UK and France were too much at each other's throats to care, obviously.
They continued walking like that for a bit, until the screams of their unstable parents finally subsided into an echoed whisper. The hallways didn't seem so different from each other, it was hard to tell where they came from and where they were going as it stretched on.
"We're just leaving to get away from that mess, right? We're going back, sooner or later, aren't we?" Aussie piped up, a little too cheerful to return to the chaos.
"You ask. So many questions." NZ hissed, trying to block out the rest of his sound.
NZ didn't look at him as he did so, keeping his eyes focused on the ground. Australia made a little "O" sound, falling back a little, to where America was.
"...did you hear that?" He whispered, although Kiwi wasn't that far away from them. He could hear. And he did, eavesdropping on their two-sided conversation.
"What about it?"
"He's acting off. Can't you see?" Can't you mind your own business? New Zealand scoffed.
"He's going through some things."
"We're all going through some things! Why does he have to direct his anger at me?" Aussie whisper-yelled.
"It might be... because of France."
New Zealand's heart thumped. He wanted to yell out and accuse US of being wrong, but - he wasn't.
How? How did he know...?
"Mom?" Australia squeaked. "Why would it have something to do with her?"
NZ snapped.
"United States."
"Yes?" He stopped in his steps.
"How."
America mumbled, as if too caught up in his own thoughts. "How....? What?"
"How did you make France like you?"
"...Kiwi."
"That macaron thing. Why did she treat you like th-that, but n-not me li-like..." he paused, sounding strangled as he teared up.
"Oh, Kiwi," He knelt down, wiping away the boy's tears with a smile. "I lied about that."
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It's okay he didn't lie about getting him dessert they're going to the overpriced ice cream place across the street B)))
Why did I have to make ame be such an emo I'll go fix that later (he's not supposed to be that edgy I swear)
Word count: 2168