Characters and Pairings: England, France, America (non-speaking cameo), Japan (non-speaking cameo), Mexico (non-speaking cameo), a couple non-nation OCs
Warnings: Language (a given), mentioned/implied groping, the legal system
Summary: In which France skirts being charged for something and England asks how he does it. Of course, when England's in the same situation…
"Angleterre, I 'ave a favor to ask of you," France called out, hurrying over to where England was sitting and enjoying his morning; well, before France came along, of course.
He sighed. "What is it, frog?"
France pointed to his necktie. "Is my tie straight? I cannot go into court looking like some uncultured buffoon off ze streets. Zat would simply be unbecoming of a passionate man like myself; you, on ze ozer 'and…" He smirked at the flush that spread across his colleague's face, enjoying the fact that he could always get a rise out of the ill-tempered Brit.
"Are you being charged with being an imbecille?" England retorted, resisting the urge to strangle the Frenchman with his tie.
"Non. Sexual 'arassment. But it's no problem; I will 'ave no trouble talking my way out of it, because I 'ave a secret weapon zat zey cannot win against."
England rolled his eyes. "Oh? And what would that be?"
A laugh. "Ze truz, mon ami. I just tell it like it is. 'Mr. Bonnefoy, can you explain your reasoning for inappropriately touching Mr. Brown?' 'Oh, why yes, monsieur. You see, je suis français. C'est ce que nous faisons.' It works every time, wizout fail."
"I highly doubt that really works. Don't call me to bail you out."
. . .
France was back after a few hours, shedding his suit jacket and tie as he walked through the door to the meeting building. "I 'ave returned, mon cher Angleterre."
"So, do you have to pay a fine? Serve time? Anything?"
"Non. I told you it really works. It's not my fault you didn't believe me."
The Brit's mouth gaped, rendering him useless past blinking for a moment. "Nothing? You got off completely scot-free?"
He smiled. "Oui."
. . .
A mild ARTHUR appears!
ARTHUR goes to the supermarket to buy groceries!
Focused elsewhere, ARTHUR slips in a puddle of water!
To avoid serious injury, ARTHUR puts his hands out to cushion his fall!
In the midst of the action, ARTHUR mistakenly gropes BOOBS!
BOOBS unleashes Purse Attack Tampon Storm!
ARTHUR fails to block and takes the blow!
Unable to fight any longer, ARTHUR is completely pwned by BOOBS!
For his troubles, ARTHUR receives a SEXUAL HARASSMENT CHARGE and a complimentary COURT SUMMONS!
ARTHUR grudgingly accepts and admits defeat!
. . .
"…you've been summoned here…"
Please kill me.
"…on the charge of…"
Please, please kill me.
"…sexual harassment toward Miss Davis. Miss Davis claims that you inappropriately touched her without her consent or prior knowledge. Is this correct?"
Fighting unmanly tears, he replied, "Yes, Your Honor."
"And you understand that the implications of your actions may result in a heavy fine?"
Why me? "Yes, Your Honor."
The judge nodded, resting her elbows on her "desk" and resting her chin in her hands. "I will give you the chance to explain yourself, Mr. Kirkland, and I would like a thorough and complete explanation as to why you sexually harassed Miss Davis. You may begin."
England had three options:
1. Tell the truth and hope the judge believed him.
2. Lie and say that he thought she was someone else, or something along those lines.
3. The unmentionable thing that, when mentioned, made shivers go down his spine because unmentionable things should stay unmentioned for the sake of being labeled unmentionable.
Standing up slowly, he adjusted his suit and cleared his throat, subtly taking longer than necessary before opening his mouth and saying, "J-Je suis français. C'est ce que nous f-faisons…?"
. . .
When he came storming back to the UN, England did not look the least bit happy about his predicament. With America annoyingly explaining something to Japan and Mexico in the background, France asked, "'ow did it go? Did you use what I told you to?"
"Yes, I did, and do you know what I received for it?"
France pursed his lips, cocking his head to the side. "Quoi?"
"A fine, you arsehole!" he yelled, grabbing onto the front of France's shirt and shaking him back and forth. "Almost eleven thousands pounds worth of a fine! This is the last time, the last time, I ever take advice from you, you egotistical, no-good, snail-slurping son of a bitch!"
As he stomped off, the rest of the nations in the general vicinity went silent for a moment before France waved it off dismissively and said, "'e will be back. Zey always come back."
Translations (used the pathetic amount of French I actually know, so correct me if I'm wrong):
Je suis français. C'est ce que nous faisons.—I'm French. That's what we do.
You should be able to figure out the rest.