notations: Suggestions are welcome, and will be listened to if they are polite enough. Demands on the other hand, will be received with less maturity. Other than that, enjoy~
Feliciano wins out in the end
"Plan aborted, plan aborted!" Prussia hissed to the other male nations.
"What's wrong?" America asked, glancing into the dimly-lit restaurant with an air of uncertainty.
"Oh gee, nothing's wrong - in fact, everything might be fan-freakin'-tastic," Prussia replied, darting his gaze back to the restaurant and then continuing in a low (and overly dramatic, England secretly thought) tone, "Except for the fact that Russia's little sister is not alone."
"You mean she has another date, aru?" China looked scandalized.
"Is there a non-nation male sitting next to my sister?" Russia demanded, shoving Canada out of the way unwittingly in his attempt to see into the restaurant.
"No," Germany said flatly, "No males, but I can make out Hungary, Liechtenstein, Taiwan, and Vietnam along with Belarus."
"Taiwan and Vietnam?" Japan perked up at the names, "At the same table?" He shared an incredulous glance with China, who was standing on his toes (and still unable to see past the tall blond's shoulders).
"What are they doing there?" Canada, of course, posed the most logical question.
"Making an alliance against us!" America immediately responded, thrusting a determined fist into the air, "We must not let them stop this Supremely Heroic Plan Number One of ATAHWDATAANNA!"
"For what purpose?" France questioned, "I see nothing in our ridiculous goals that would possibly cause a divergence in plans, non?" And then he finally caught a glance at the restaurant and hissed out, "Don't look at once, messieurs, but I think I see the lovely Belgium and Luxembourg, poorly disguised as waitresses no less!"
"I see Katya from the bushes," Russia remarked, fury shifting slowly to surprise.
"See?" America triumphantly reiterated, "This is obviously a set up by the girls! They clearly have ulterior motives for being here!"
"Don't we have ulterior motives for being here as well?" England grumpily demanded, "And what's with standing around the door in such a silly manner! We should either go in or get out - no point just standing around here for no particular reason, right?"
"Well, if you'll excuse me, aru," China spoke out, elbowing his way past both Germany and Russia at the head of the 'line', "I have a date to attend to, and it would be much appreciated if you guys would not interfere." And then he practically sauntered past them, suit and all.
"Easy there, man, I know how you feel... just, breath in and breath out..." Prussia councilled, while his brother took the infinitely more efficient (and effective!) route of simply holding the Russian back.
"Natalya and Katya are both there!" Russia protested with a snarl.
There was a bit of scuffle, but not too rowdy; the ten of them were in suits after all. The restaurant manager was still cowering behind his desk (courtesy of Hungary's 'convincation' tactics) and as a result, was never seen nor heard in the thirty seconds it took Germany to usher the ten of them out the restaurant door. In order to 'alter' the 'super-awesome plan' which, apparently, was not as awesome as was proclaimed. Loudly.
"Right, right," America acquiesced, "Which means we have to split up into different groups so that everything will work out alright!"
"What is with you and groups?" South Italy grumped.
"I just want to sit at a table and order pasta~!" North Italy, who returned, unnoticed from stealing breadsticks, declared.
"Anyways," America continued, undeterred, "We need three groups, because there are two tables and one group has to be posted outside in case we need a quick getaway!"
"Why would we need a quick getaway?" England felt the need to ask.
"Because that's what they do in all the awesome and heroic movies, silly," America responded, not batting an eyelash, and then plowing forth with, "So this is how everything will go down: Me and Japan will take the table with Vietnam and Taiwan, France and England and Canada will take the table with Liechtenstein and Hungary, and the rest of you guys have to play backup."
"Sounds feasible," Japan replied, right as Russia ordained:
"I must be at a table next to Natalya."
"And I just really really really want to eat the really really really good pasta here!" North Italy sobbed.
"What about the awesome me!" Prussia, of course, protested, "I'm the most likely to get a girlfriend out of these chicks! So why am I in the background? I need to be sitting at the table with Eliza - I mean, Hungary and Liechtenstein!" And then he coughed, because Germany had elbowed him, "Because I would be really good at eavesdropping on China and Belarus' conversation, I mean."
"Um... I would be alright with staying outside," Canada confessed.
"I have my eyes set on Seychelles, no need to pair me up with any other belle femme," France professed.
"Didn't I tell you, you frog?" England grumbled, "I've already established my constitution in her country! She's more mine than yours so hands off!" And then he coughed, "But because it would be uncouth to continue, I withdraw the right to sit with Hungary and Liechtenstein."
"This is stupid!" South Italy raged, "I want to stay outside as well!"
"Okay, okay!" America declared, putting his hands up in some degree of defeat, "I get that you guys are more or less totally unsatisfied with my current heroic plan of action, so I've changed it a little bit to make everyone happier!"
"Please please please just let me have pasta!" North Italy cried out, "Ludwig, Ludwig~ You won't let them bully me like this, ve~?"
"Jeeze, Italy, you'll get your pasta, okay?" America sighed, rolling his eyes, "Okay! Here's my third plan of action: Italy gets to go with Prussia and Ludwig to Hungary and Liechtenstein's table. Me and Russia and Japan will go to Vietnam and Taiwan, and Canada, Italy Number Two, France, and England, all stand outside in wait of, well, I dunno, trouble? Gunshots?"
"There will be no gunshots," Russia said with an ominous smile.
"Okay, that's so not going to impress the ladies," America interrupted. "Well, okay - the Awesome Team of Awesome Heroes!"
"That is definitely a better name," France decided.
"Anyways!" America valiantly continued, "Let's start the third plan, and remember - China is paying for everything, so eat what you like and eat all that you can!"
"I'm pretty certain-" Japan tried to put in, but was cut off by the stampede of five relatively-hungry nations. He sighed, mentally apologizing to Yao-nii, before heading in after the crowd.
"What about me?" Canada asked, after the course of the whirlwind which left only France, England, South Italy, and himself outside.
"Loiter around, I suppose," South Italy put out, sitting on the ground.
"This is going to be a long night," England foreshadowed.
"Or..." France wiggled eyebrows in some mock version of suggestive body language, "We could follow the six of them after they've begun serving the appetizers. And if there are any waitresses, perhaps they, too, would like to dine with us? It would be, after all, on the house then. I am, of course, relatively faim-ished after all."
"Oh Dear God, you did not just use that pun," England groaned in agony.
"Surprisingly," South Italy started, "I'm all for that plan. But mainly because I have to make sure potato-bastard keeps his hands to himself."
"You have such a brother-complex, you know?" England felt the need to point out. He was promptly rewarded with a kick to the leg.
"Evening, ladies," Prussia had smirked, before pulling a chair from the opposite table (Yao and Belarus' table, no less!) and sitting opposite of Hungary. "My friends and I just 'forgot' our reservations, but you looked nice enough and I figured, hell, we could probably... share yours." And then he quirked eyebrows.
"Ow!" Prussia hissed, cheek making intimate contact with the silk tablecloth, "What the hell was that for, you crazy violent -"
"Please forgive my older brother," Germany started, "We're just a bit... hungary."
"Oh. My. God. West-" Prussia stood up to hug his brother, "Did you... that was... oh my God... your first pick-up line!"
"Th-That was hardly a -" Germany tried to stutter out.
"So cute~" Hungary squealed, camera in-hand. "You guys are adorable, you know?" And then she actually smiled at Prussia (and no, his heart did not somersault and backflip only to melt into a puddle of goo two seconds later - it did not do that), motioning for the two of them to sit down. "If you act so sweetly, I'm sure we wouldn't mind sharing a reservation with the two of you, right Liechtenstein?"
"Of course," micronation replied demurely, nibbling on some of the aforementioned breadsticks.
"Ludwig ve~" North Italy sighed, cheeks a bit rounder than before, "La Fôret really has the best breaksticks in the world, ve~"
"Too cute," Liechtenstein agreed, already fantasizing about the possibilities of threesomes, love triangles, and heck, just double-dating and switching off. "Ah... the menus!" The two of them promptly flipped open their gold-embossed menus (amazingly classy, despite have clashed elements, much like the rest of the store), ready to order least expensive items on the menu until Italy pointed out-
"Hey, hey, isn't China paying for all of this, ve~?"
"Could I take your order, misses and misters?" Belgium twitched. She had known that she would have to go 'undercover' for the sake of the ICFNILC goals, but being a waitress? And for her fellow nations (two of which were doing their best not to crack up, and she had no idea whether it was at their predicament or their terrifying fantasies of the male nations), no less?
"Ah, yes!" Taiwan piped up, "I'll have a glass of Bloody Mary, and the Chef's filet mignon, well-down, if you will." She felt a little guilty about the priciness of her meal, but with Vietnam's next order...
"As for me," Vietnam noted with a smile, "I'll take a bottle of Merlot, the oldest you can have - five glasses, please - and the Beauharnaïs-cut steak, medium slices, rare-cooked, please." She had thought about the latest weapons shipment which dear Yao-ge had 'intercepted', which made the oh, somewhat 'hefty' pricetag of her dinner all the more delicious.
"Okay!" America exclaimed excitedly, "I'll have five hamburgers and an orange slurpee, please!"
"Five hamburgers... orange slurpee..." Belgium repeated. She hadn't known America very well, but he was fitting true to the movie-like stereotypes so far. Distressingly well, actually.
"A-ah," Japan fumbled through the menu, "A plate of foie gras and a bit of pâté will be fine, thank you."
"Alright," Belgium nodded, writing down said orders, "And for you sir?" Russia - now here was a nation she knew less than America, and had actually heard more about. "Excuse me, sir?" Why if only he knew she was on his rank, perhaps then he'd actually - Belgium was shaken out of her train of thought with Russia blinking, then looking at her, and smiling.
Shivers ran down her spine as he gave his simple, curt order.
"Just an empty glass, if you will. Or perhaps even an empty jug for water, if you have those?" He cocked his head, almost innocently, "It would be such a shame to ruin such lovely carpets, da?"
Belgium walked away from that table with more speed than necessary (and consequently spent the next twenty minutes searching for said empty jug for water).
Things were looking pretty good on the inside, France and England continued to report, as South Italy and Canada were busy ranting (well, one ranting and the other patiently listening and nodding and maybe falling asleep) about the injustices of worlds and siblings and people that confused other nations in general (ninety percent of this was America, but of course).
"Ah, I see Russia has successfully scared the wipers off of Belgium as well," England remarked, quirking an eyebrow, "You'd think that he'd be a little less protective, what with that one character always hanging around her."
"You mean Lithuania?" South Italy questioned, quirking an eyebrow as well, "But isn't he..."
"Absolutely in love with Poland? Yes," France sighed, fluttering eyelashes and hands, "But you know, there are so many beautiful things in this world, it's so hard to simply pick one and stick with it." And then he laughed, winking at England, "But of course, Angleterre knows what I mean, oui?"
"Your gratuitous injection of French is disgusting frog," was the loving reply.
"Oh! How I am constantly wounded!"
"But..." Canada spoke out, "If Lithuania were constantly chasing after Belarus for her affections, that would... well, that would explain a lot of why Russia is so violent to him in particular, right?"
There was a pause in the witty banter, as the three others sat back to think about the logic behind such a situation. And it dawned on them, slowly, but surely. The reactions were varied; albeit loud and violent in their consensual and utter disgust.
"You mean-" England began, face flushed and unwilling to comprehend.
"That Russia is so overprotective of his sisters because-" South Italy attempted to continue, but found his face too similar to those tomatoes he adored to continue talking.
"He's actually-" France finished, but didn't actually finish, because the implications were a bit too grave, even for a casual - not to mention, practical - joke about Russia. And Belarus and Ukraine and Lithuania.
"Still," Canada put forth, completely forgetting that this was one of the few times he wasn't being ignored, "It would... make a lot of sense, wouldn't it?"
"I'm going to pretend I never heard that," South Italy resolved. France and England added their agreements, and the entire matter was dropped. Canada sighed; there went his fifteen minutes of limelight. Or just spotlight, really.
"I'm really hungry," England complained, and France rolled his eyes.
"We must be the 'back-up' people, as America put it, in case there is something that just happens to go wrong; I refuse to let my fellow nations down simply because of your terrible appetite!" And then he put on a brave face for about ten seconds, until his stomach rumbled - in unison - with England's. "Ah, well, la vie m'appelle," he shrugged, and only Canada understood.
"Speak English, you frog," England grumbled, as the four of them made their way into the restaurant.
Meanwhile, inside the actual restaurant, all of the main orders had been served out. Belgium and Luxembourg had hastily given the four newcomers a cartful of bread, for the purposes of being able to reconvene with the female nations, Seychelles and Ukraine in this case, that were hiding behind the bushes right next to Yao and Belarus' table.
"Oh My God," Luxembourg exclaimed, wringing her hands in a motion too forceful and practiced to be truthfully cathartic. "If I so much as touch another fish head or carve up another rib of pork, I think I am seriously going to throw up!"
"I agree!" Belgium hissed back, as Seychelles desperately motioned for the two of them to lower their voices; the bushes were not particularly good covers after all, "And you didn't even have the worst customers! I mean, I had to serve America and Russia! Japan was perfectly alright, particularly compared to those two - America wanted FIVE hamburgers and Russia wanted an empty water jug!"
"An empty water jug?" Ukraine echoed, confused, "What for?"
"For the bloodstains," Belgium replied flatly.
"Ah, that makes sense," the older sister nodded in understanding, "He's always been very thoughtful, you know?"
"Oookay, I'm going to pretend I never heard that," Seychelles put in. Belgium and Luxembourg nodded in agreement, while all Ukraine could do was cock her head in confusion. "Anyways," Seychelles continued, "We've been back here, and it seems as if China and Belarus' dinner plans are going well!"
"How could you tell?" Belgium questioned.
"We couldn't," Ukraine cheerily responded, "However, because Natalya has yet to kill him, I'm sure they're actually having a wonderful time."
"...Of course," Belgium affirmed, voice a bit, "Well, you know what, I think I hear a call from Table Fifteen - lemme go check it out!"
"Oh!" Luxembourg straightened up, "And I heard a bell from the chef; he must be asking for more roasted sirloins!"
The two of them promptly left the bushes in a flurry.
"Wow," Seychelles remarked, raising an eyebrow, "Don't you think they're taking their jobs a little bit too seriously?"
"I don't mind," Ukraine replied, "After all, they managed to give us so many delicious dishes, and all for free!" She took a hearty stab at the fillet mignon (roasted to perfection, or so the sous-chef had claimed) and drank a bit of the red wine. It was from 1978. "Mmm... delicious..." she murmured, as a bit of the sauce (or was it blood?) dribbled down her chin.
"...That seriously shouldn't look as tasty as you're making it out to be..." Seychelles muttered, chomping down on some of the ravioli.
"The reason why I called you here," Belarus began, after they had finished their appetizers and bread and had had their main courses served, "Is because I am wishing to strike up an agreement with you about the current situation of the nations."
"And by the current situation, aru, you happen to mean?"
"Surely you have noticed the strong percentage of diners at this restaurant that happen to be our type, no?" China choked on a vegetable, before nodding a hasty affirmative. "As you may have suspected, all these people gathered are not gathered by chance - your side, of males, wants something - my side, of females, wants something as well."
"Ah," China replied, downing half his glass of water, "And would these goals happen to be the same?"
"I think not," Belarus flatly responded, "After all, Hungary and Liechtenstein have decided that it would be imperative to... matchmake all of the male nations."
China choked on his meat this time.
"Wh-what?" Two refills and three long-and-loud coughing sessions later, "The female nations want to... want to pair us up with one another?" And then, as the facts began to arrange themselves, he hastily glanced through the restaurant. Germany, North Italy, Prussia, Liechtenstein, and Hungary were lightly chatting, some people with more bruises than others. The two girls hiding behind the bushes had begun to eat, as evidenced by the clacking of their utensils. And then there was America, Russia (who was too close and somehow managed to carry his water pipe into the restaurant) and Japan and also-
"You don't mean to say..." China started, unwilling to believe, "That Taiwan and Vietnam are involved in this as well, aru?" A firm affirmative nod was all that was needed for all the color to drain from his face.
"What is the agreement?"
"You wish for your sisters to stay out of the whole ordeal, and wish the same of my brother," Belarus replied, "Therefore... because we are on opposite sides, and on the sides of our particular... partner's sibling... we could... cooperate, no?"
"Ab-Absolutely," China readily agreed, "I'll keep Russia out of trying to get a girlfriend, and you'll keep Taiwan and Vietnam away from trying to pair me up with other guys. That sounds like a wonderful plan, Belarus."
"There is a catch, however..." Belarus looked away, in the direction of Hungary and Liechtenstein, who waved supportively. Then she leaned in closer to China, whispering, "They... have expected me to convince you to join our cause."
"Join...?" And then the second role he was supposed to play dawned upon China. "Of course," He readily supplied, shrugging and grinning and thinking of all the good blackmail he was sure to get out of this endeavor (not to mention the endless jokes and entertainment).
And that was when a pipe - filled to the brim with onigiri - came flying at superhuman speeds towards China's face.
"Ah," Belarus noted, before snatching the whole thing out of the air, and proceeding to take an onigiri from the pipe and pop it into her mouth. Like it was everyday business or something equally terrifying. And then she continued with, "Worry not, I have relatively good reflexes." China was thoroughly scared because was that a blush upon her face? (And if so - how the hell did the people Russia tried to 'court' ever actually survive Belarus?)
A beat, and then (it was only to be expected, really) -
"FOOD FIGHT!" America - of course - declared, before grabbing a handful of his french fries and flinging them into the air.
"Enough!" The tired-of-cowering restaurant manager bellowed, causing the remaining twenty occupants of his restaurant (it was amazing how fast people could clear out in the face of pipe-throwing Russians, China mused) to freeze. "I have had enough of your antics and schmantics!" He screeched with a terribly authentic French accent, "It is two minutes until closing time, and if you guys are not out by nine, you all will be the specials for tomorrow!"
Many things happened simultaneously after the second the restaurant manager had declared his intention to serve the twenty-odd nations as meals the next day. America scrambled to snarf down two more hamburgers (inhale them, really), Belarus regrouped with Hungary and Liechtenstein, who gave the signal to the other female nations to clear the hell out. Prussia and Germany forcibly dragged North Italy out the door and away from the pasta, while England and France and Canada were required to keep Russia from stranging China.
"Some getaway drivers!" America complained as the eleven of them piled into some insanely-long car or another, "You guys not only didn't save us, but you didn't even have a vehicle prepared!"
"Shut up Alfred," England said gratuitously, smacking said nation with his fifth and final hamburger.