You sit at the edge of the table, your butt planted on the bench as you watch the others settle down. Well, as much as they could with Viktor in the room. You put your elbow on the table, cupping your cheek. For the past hour, France and China were going back and forth in the kitchen, grabbing bags, herbs, pans and utensils. It was entertaining to watch the masters at work, and after the first three attempts of you asking if they needed help, France sent you off to lay the table and ask what people wanted to drink. You tap the table, a bored huff leaving you. That is until someone sits next to you. And opposite you.

"Dude, what's with that face?" You didn't even need to look up to know who that one is.

"There's nothing to do." You look up at America, turning your lips up in a forced smile.

"I saw you reading earlier, why don't you continue doing that?" Canada asks from beside you.

"Dinner is going to start soon, and I finished it." You note, fingering the fork.

"How about the Grimms Brothers book?" Canada asks, placing his hand in his lap.

"Oh, you heard about that?" You chuckle, sitting up attentively. Canada smiles as America furrows his brow. You give a bashful look to America as you explain yourself. "The Grimms brothers is the original fairy tale book, and I've always wanted to read it. I just... wanted to read the original, but it's in German." You rub the back of your head, laughing. "I don't know German."

"Then learn it." America shrugs, leaning back on the bench.

"Of course," you roll your eyes, "because it's that easy." It didn't seem America noticed the sarcastic tone, so you give him a grin for good measure.

"Exactly. Just learn it!" He grins back, seemingly pleased with himself. You laugh at that, before looking around once more. You then remember something that had been bothering you for a while. France had been injured not too long ago, but he is up. Up and cooking.

"Canada, you were with France when he got attacked, right?" You turn your body to face him, showing him that he has your full attention.

"Yes, I was." His expression falls slightly as he thinks back. That isn't what he wanted to talk about.

"I was there too." America adds. You look at him, a hesitant expression, nodding slowly.

"Can I ask what exactly happened?" You play with your hands, running your fingernails up and down the side of your thumb. Canada adjusts his position in his seat.

"I didn't see it, but I could hear it. We finished checking the rooms, we even collected some spare clothes just in case of anymore... incidents." He glanced over to Italy, who is currently resting in bed with a new change of clothes. "Then, as we went to leave the room, France suddenly pulled out his sword. I thought it was the Thing, and we were all ready to fight until we heard France having a rather loud conversation." He cringes.

"What... what sort of things did he say?" You tilt your head, brows pulled down.

"It was mostly French, but I'm--but I don't want to repeat them." He looks down at his lap.

"Then there was this crunching sound." America continues for his brother, leaning forwards and making motions with his hand. "It was Frances fingers being slammed into the wall, the commie throwing him into it." America juts his finger towards Viktor, who is awake. The man doesn't move, seemingly unaffected by the mention of him.

"Okay..." You say, eyes peering over at Viktor before raising a brow at America. "This is all that you heard?"

"Yep." America pops the p. "France managed to knock him out before he fell." He laughs, grinning. "That's France. If he's gonna fall, then he's gonna bring someone with him." He shrugs with a what-can-you-do expression.

"Is France all right?" You furrow your brow in worry. "To be up, I mean?" You repeat, looking between both boys.

"Eh, he'll be fine." America waves it off. You give him an incredulous look before going to Canada.

"Papa - when I asked him earlier - said he was all right." Canada explains, but his face is twisted in worry. "Worrying about him makes France uncomfortable." The blond looks down, speaking from experience.

"Okay then." You try to stop fiddling with your fingers, moving your arm up to grip your elbow. "Do we..." You lower your voice, trepidation filling you. "Do we know what we're doing next?"

"Not as far as I'm aware." England appears, shuffling his fingers to a tighter grip around his forearms. You look up at him, pleasantly surprised.

"Hi, England." You greet. He nods back, before raising a brow.

"Have you apologised for your actions?" He gives you a stern gaze, and you hiccup, body jolting.

"Wh-what did I do?" You become paranoid.

"I was joking." England smirks, flashing his teeth at you. You notice his right canine, it twisted slightly. Isn't that considered cute in Japan?

"Oh." You fiddle with your fingers, an airy laughing leaving you. Maybe that was his version of lightening up the room. "Are you joining us for dinner?"

"Is there a reason I should not?" He questions, sitting next to the more behaved brother.

"No, not really." You chuckle, brushing back your hair. God, you're being so awkward right now.

"(F/n)!" You jump in your seat at the loud shouting. You look back to see Spain, Russia hovering by his side. The Spaniard sets forward, sitting on the edge of the table beside you, firmly planting his feet on the chair. He gives you no time to respond before blabbering on. "A little birdy told me you and Ita are close. And that you've been here since the very beginning, helping mi amigo Prussia." You force a smile, unsure of how to reply to that.

"I guess."

"And the stuff you carry around. What's with that?" Now you're perplexed rather than unsure. The stuff you carry around? He needs to be more specific. "The beer." He reiterates.

"Oh." You leave your mouth open before nodding. Then you pause, unsure once again. "What do mean, 'what's with that'?"

"How did you know it would do what it does?" The bright smile, the naievity, it takes you all a second. Spain is intelligent; he was a pirate. You frown, your bottom lip pushing out as you furrow your brow.

"Luck, I guess." You shrug, then realise that they are all looking at you. You bring in your shoulders, feeling small. "They fell from the Thing, so they seemed like boosters." It's quiet. You feel your body tense, the stupidness of that logic to someone who doesn't know this is a game hits you. You fucked up. You shouldn't have said that.

"That stuff fell from that monster, and your first rational thought was to feed it to us?!" England asks in bewilderment, the disgust on his face clear. He is no longer trying to be light with you. You flinch. "And I even ate some." Britain adds ruefully, scowling deeply. "I hope you realise the severity of your actions." England scolds you, sending you a sharp gaze. "Those drinks and food could have been poisoned and sent us all to an early grave." He shakes his head at you, and you feel a ball grow in your throat. "(F/n), I hope you realise how lucky you are that it worked." You feel a sting in your chest.

"Sorry." Your voice rises an octave, and the sound of tears welling up in your throat doesn't go unnoticed by Canada.

"We're better off because of it. I'm sure the counterparts think the same thing as you do England, so they haven't bothered. For once, we're a step ahead of them." Canada seems to be pleading your case to Britain, and the man clicks his tongue.

"I just want to know what compelled you to think that was a good idea." Britain looks at you, a hand on the table as he leans forwards. You squirm in your seat, head down in embarrassment.

"We-well, in video games..." You muster up the rest of the sentence. "Mobs drop loot and boosters." You know how dumb that sounds out loud and look around to everyone as you speak in a flurry. "Be-because, like, why else would the Thing drop something? What other purpose do those items posses?" The confused stares push you further into your shell. "That was my line of thinking, anyway..." There is a thick silence, one that even France seemed confused by when he approaches and drops the stew pot on the table. He goes to ask what the issue is, seeing England was the one to brew the argument. But he is cut off by boisterous laughter, America practically shaking in his seat. He tries to speak between his cackles, but he can't stop. His hand grips the table, ignoring the stares he receives for his actions.

"You--" He stops, gasping for breath as he looks at Britain. The Brit looks even eggier than he did with you, his face brought into a sneer. "You can't complain at them for that." America takes in a gasp of air, steadying himself till all that remained from his outburst is a cheeky grin and flushed cheeks. "I would of done the same thing. Monster dies, monster drops loot, I take the loot and use it. It's basic video games rules. C'mon, even an amateur like you should know that." America gives the grumpy man a pat on his shoulder. Britain splutters a response before Spain and Russia drop down on the bench.

"I would say it was pretty quick thinking. The only reason this cabron-" Spain juts his finger at England. "-is upset is because he didn't think of it first."

"That food has gotten us all from tight spaces, right?" Russia inclines his head. "You can't complain about something then continue to use it." Britain makes a disgruntled noise, dragging his hand down his face. He sends you a pointed glare, aiming a finger in your direction.

"Next time you test something, do it on yourself." He says gruffly. "I'm not trying to complain, but you have to understand that your actions could have harmed us, or worse, yourself." You nod, looking down at your lap as France and China begin dishing out dinner.
It had been a long day, so everyone deserved a hearty meal. The morning started off with you overhearing Luciano, meeting the Allies, breaking clocks, piano room, meeting Allen and Mattieu, freeing France, America and Prussia, then being kidnapped, trying to save the countries, then being knocked out, racing towards Italy, and Viktor. Today had been a hefty one. You sneak a look at Viktor before Canada distracts you with a conversation. You smile and nod, listening along to the odd discussion as France and China glide gracefully around the table, filling bowls. You give thanks where it's due, before grabbing some buttered bread and dunking it. You tear it up, gaze drifting.

"Yo, (F/n)!" America hollers, a grin on his face. You blink at him, confused. "How quickly do you think I could drink this?" You flutter your eyelashes once more before realising he's on about the bowl in his hands.

"You'll choke." You state, levelling your brows, lips parted. Does he realise there are bits in it?

"America, bet I can down it before you!" Prussia challenges, raising the rim to his lips.

"Prussia..."

"Brother!" Your voice crosses with Germany's frowns. You give a small chuckle, rubbing the nape of your neck. You didn't realise you were that loud. Prussia drowns out your inner thoughts with a cackle. A smile tugs at your lips before you begin using your fork. Your foot scuffs across the floor, smiling to yourself as you give a content hum. Today, or at least now, you aren't on edge. You sit between Canada and Russia. The two dwarf you in size, and it makes you smile. You aren't that close to them, physically one foot away from each of them, but you feel cosy. You look up at Russia, studying his face absentmindedly as you chew. Then you look behind you to the other Russia. He is sat there, still. He hadn't moved or complained. You look down at your food.

"Are you not enjoying the food?" France burst your bubble, observing you over in concern. You straighten up, shuffling in your chair.

"Oh, no. It's lovely." You rush. "Just..." You cast your gaze back over to Viktor. "Is he not eating?"

"You are so strange." England shakes his head. "You don't feed prisoners." You furrow your brow.

"You do." You add, trying to stop the bitterness seeping into your voice.

"He doesn't need food." He adds flippantly.

"Why not?"

"We don't need as much food as a regular human. Our bodies don't process it the same. We can go days, even weeks, without food."

"And you're eating now because your body is human?" You tilt your head.

"Exactly." He grabs himself another loaf of bread.

"They made us like this, they can deal with the repercussions." China adds.

"But what's to say he isn't human?"

"They wouldn't put themselves at a disadvantage like that." Germany explains to you.

"But... He isn't with the others?" You furrow your brow in thought, looking down at you bowl as you speak under your breath. "Maybe he upset them and was cast away because of his behaviour?" You're unsure of yourself as you look back at Britain. "The way you make these people sound, it's like something someone evil would do - which is what you've made them out to be. How do you know for certain he isn't human too? How is--"

"You're fucking chatty, you know that?" Romano jumps in, a distasteful scowl on his face. "Those assholes did this to us, and you care about their health? I'd say let them rot." You falter, looking down at your lap. You don't reply.

"We shouldn't waste our food on it." Russia said, not even passing you a glance. You frown at your lap, twiddling with your thumb. You don't see the look America gives to Canada, a nod in your direction. Canada bites his lip, tugging at it as he looks you over. You weren't being listened too, so what you needed was for someone to make it clear why your argument doesn't persuade them. His voice softly speaks by your side.

"We can't take the chance. What if by feeding him he becomes stronger? We can't fight him if he gets out of hand. We don't know the limits of his power. He could hurt us - hurt you." Canada says. Your lips part, eyes staring up at him in confusion. You look away, sulking.

"You... I can't believe you can tell yourself that." You take in a shaky breath before giving him a level glance. "You're very convincing, Canada, it's just a shame your barking up the wrong tree." You defiantly push your bowl forwards, scowling.

"Kinder, what are you doing?" Prussia looks at you in confusion. You hesitate, mouth open to yell at him angrily. But you don't, you have more self-control than that. You won't let them anger you. Because then you'll never be taken seriously. You bring in a deep breath, steadying yourself.

"I'm not eating." You say softly, disappointment in your words.

"What do you mean you're not eating? Don't be daft." You lift your head to stare at England.

"I'm not eating until you feed him."

"Okay, you've fainted today." Spain speaks up. "I can see that you are a compassionate person, but you can't put your body through anymore. You've injured yourself. You can't not eat."

"I take that as a challenge." You say, folding your knife and fork neatly. You set your shoulders back, watching them watch you. "Go on, eat your food." You say, a smile now on your face. Forced. Too forced for anyone's liking to the point they're uncomfortable.

"I like this kid." Romano chuckles as he continues to eat his food. "Don't agree with what you're doing, but it's funny." You beam at him falsely, before looking to those whose stares still linger.

"Why won't you eat? I just don't understand." England shakes his head in scepticism.

"It's unfair. Why do I get to eat and he doesn't?"

"He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't even need it."

"Food isn't for those who deserve it." You comment blandly.

"Feed it to America, I'm sure he'll scoff it down."

"Hey! What have I done?" America sulks. You look at Britain, propping your face up on your palm. He raises a brow at you, lifting his nose.

"I don't know why you're looking at me like that." He says hautily. You give a hum in reply, tilting your head to the side. "And don't think making eyes at me is going to allow you to break eating etiquette. You can't leave until everyone is finished, nor put your elbows on the table." You chuff through your nose before shaking your head, but listen and remove your elbows from the table and rest your hands in your lap. You look at France and China.

"Thank you for making dinner." Your voice comes out as monotone, so you add a small smile to smooth it over.

"The pleasure was all ours." France answers for both of them. "It's just a shame you won't be enjoying a warm family meal with us all." You muster a smile once again, humming.

"As nice as that sounds, and as good as this smells, I'm not eating."

"We aren't going to feed him." England repeats himself again. "You will starve."

"Then I'll starve." You roll your eyes. He gives a short laugh. "I'm not kidding, Britain. I'm doing this."

"I'll just sit back and laugh when you pass out." He grumbles, stabbing at his food.

"England's talking to you like he's talks me!" America beams.

"That's not a good thing." Romano rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Most people had finished their food, and your eyes scan around the table before turning to the blond beside you.

"Canada, would you like mine?" You offer. "I haven't spat in it or anything."

"Oh, no. I shouldn't." He shakes his head, his hands sitting in his lap.

"Are you sure? It will go in the bin if you don't."

"Or, or you could eat it?" He forces a smile, before dropping it and laughing nervously.

"I don't break my word." You level your eyes at him before taking a deep breath. "Now, eat this or I'll throw it away myself."

"If you insist, I guess I'll have it. Maybe share some with Kummerow."

"You do that." You smile, before lowering your voice. "Eh, and no hard feelings, right?" You raise a brow, trying to act casual, but your fingers begin fiddling, eyebrows now drooped.

"We're good." He smiles, closing his eyes. You sigh in relief, shoulders dropping.

"Bro, you in?" America speaks up, before grabbing his drink and downing it.

"W-what?" Canada squeaks, cheeks turning into a rosy hue.

"Me, you, Russia, Japan? Check around?" America gives an exaggerated sigh. "It's like you weren't listening."

"Oh, right. Sure!" He smiles to his brother before glancing at you. "Let me finish my food first, and we can get going."

"This is the slowest you've ever eaten. Is your mouth shrinking?" Then America's eyes widen in horror. "Did you get more food than me?!" He quickly runs off over to the kitchen, practically throwing himself at France as he begins asking questions left and right. Canada sighs, body deflating.

"He is so--" He makes a grunt of agitation.

"Loud? Erratic? Head strong?" You count off on your fingers, laughing. Canada turns to look at you, who grins in reply. "America can be overwhelming, but for me, personally, it's charming." You look over to the blond. "He's not doing it intentionally to be malicious or annoying, so he can't be blamed too much for agitating people. If it was that bad, I'm sure someone would point it out to him."

"When I tried pointing it out to him last, he had a chainsaw." Canada's voice is monotone, but you laugh anyway.

"I bet he did."

"Canada!" America whines loudly. Canada stands up, calling Kumajirou over to finish his food. You wave bye to him, watching as the group leaves. That just leaves you with China, France, England, Germany, Prussia, North Italy, South Italy and Spain. You wonder if you could make this situation go to shit too. It's what you are good at.