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France twiddled her thumbs and pursed her lips. The debating chatter regarding the political balance of Europe seemed to flow in one ear and out the other. She twirled her hair with a finger, tapped a tune on the table, shook her leg beneath her dress—she did anything but focus. This meeting, after all, was about as entertaining as a single sock. She knew that she should probably listen, but the droning voice of the annoying Brit, yammering on about his overseas territories, made it rather difficult to care.
She glanced up, her cerulean eyes scanning the room for entertainment. Britain was to her left, speaking on something France had long since tuned out; Spain was doing his own paperwork; Austria was on the verge of falling asleep, and .. oh? Russia and Prussia were ..
France quirked her eyebrow. She tilted her head, squinted, and paused. Was there .. something going on? Prussia himself didn't seem to be acting different, but .. this was weird, even for them. Quite the odd sight indeed.
Prussia himself was sitting as stiffly and coldly as usual, without a hint of emotion or even fatigue within those swirling blue eyes. He neatened his stack of documents by tapping it on the table, before scribbling down some notes even though there wasn't much to take note of.
This part was very normal. Prussia was being very Prussia today, or so it seemed from the outside. Russia however, was proving to be a very interesting source of entertainment for the antsy Frenchwoman. Those two were always one heck of a show to watch, but something in particular had drawn France's eyes. Though she wasn't quite sure what it was exactly, since she's not too good at deciphering things like these. That was more of Holland's skill.
Usually, Russia and Prussia's interactions went something along the lines of this: Russia messes something up or asks Prussia for help, and then Prussia sighs and helps him. Every. Single. Time. France might even say that Russia's doing it on purpose, but she has this vague feeling that she won't make it home alive if she shares her musings out loud. In any case, that was how they usually interacted with each other, but today was way different.
Russia was sitting close to Prussia. More than usual. The Russian was practically pressed up against Prussia's arm, and he had an oddly childish look on his face—as if he were a spoiled child that was just denied a batch of cookies. Russia seemed extra clingy to Prussia today, and Prussia seemed extra cold in response. How odd.
As far as France was concerned, Prussia treated everyone equally, which was both respectable and annoying. Something must've happened between the two, for better or for worse. To be honest, France never really knew what to feel when Russia tagged along with Prussia at every meeting, or how Russia would always somehow end up falling asleep on Prussia's shoulder outside of meetings, forcing the poor guy to wait because his morals are too straitlaced to wake him up. If it was only her and those two, then she would start feeling like a third wheel, and that was never fun.
Before she got the chance to ask or observe more, however, the one-sided conversation shifted back into the original topic, regarding the actual purpose of this meeting. Britain finally finished his abhorrent speech on the land where "the sun never sets" and Prussia took over, finally sensing an opportunity to do something other than listen. It was always Prussia who kept (or tried to keep) everyone focusing on whatever the topic of the meeting was for the day.
Sifting through his documents, he procured a few reports and newspaper articles on the face of Europe, the balance of power, and some other stuff France wasn't listening to. In fact, it seemed that no one was really listening to Prussia (not today, at least). France traced Britain's stare and found it lingering on .. Russia. If even the dense-as-a-boulder Britain could tell that something was up, then this must've been a big issue.
"Psst .. what's Russia doing?" France muttered to Britain, who snapped out of it for a second and sneakily glanced over.
"How am I supposed to know, mate? He's just .. sitting there. Very very close. Looking a little pissed too, I reckon."
"Pissed?" France furrowed her brows, before raising them. "Oh, I see it."
"Right? It's so weird though. I never get what's up with those two, I swear."
"Well that's because all the tea you drink nullifies what little brain power you have," France smiled, causing Britain to scowl.
The two continued bickering lightly until the argument spiraled, as it always did with those two, to the point where everyone else was watching. France only noticed once Britain finally stopped shouting and warily looked off to the others. She huffed, sitting back down in her seat (when did she stand up?) and muttering a bit of profanity. Of course, the stupid Brit heard and perked his ears up, annoyed.
"What did you say, you little prick? Speak up, if you aren't cowardly enough to not do so."
France's eye twitched, and she was about to come up with a rebuttal when she felt an ominous gaze looming over them. Both her and Britain—no, it was her, Britain, Austria, and even Spain—instinctively straightened their backs and slowly turned their heads.
There was Prussia, looking unamused, slightly bored, and exasperated. And right beside him, linking arms with him (when did that happen?) and staring down at the other countries with a rather menacing smile, was Russia, who seemed to exude a look that plainly said: "you're annoying me, so shut up." Yikes.
That certainly stopped Britain and France's argument. The room got dead silent as Prussia blinked, obviously confused at the sudden change. He tilted his head quizzically, following the gazes of the others and turning his head to Russia for the first time today (as far as France could tell).
"Russia .." he said steadily, prompting Russia to glance down at the shorter man with a wide, if not slightly creepy, smile.
Prussia's face was blank, but it always was, and France was one of the few people (Russia and Austria are included) who could read the subtle changes in his demeanor. She could tell, at a moment's look, that he was more exasperated than usual today. He had been unusually cold to Russia during the meeting, hadn't he?
"You're finally looking at me," Russia remarked, his golden eyes twinkling in pleasure. "Good. It should stay that way."
Prussia furrowed his eyebrows slightly, sighing and turning back to the mildly confused, mildly scared onlookers. "Please, for the love of your god, don't stare at the other countries like that. Staring is rude, and it can be seen as a sign that you're looking down on the other person, which isn't a good impression to make," he lectured.
Russia listened intently, though he appeared more focused on Prussia himself than on Prussia's words. Nevertheless, he nodded afterwards, murmuring unapologetic apologies and leaning his head on Prussia's shoulder with a pout. It was clear that Prussia himself didn't mind, likely because this sort of thing didn't bother him, but the other countries of the room were a little shocked.
Okay, a lot. France's jaw was to the floor at how unabashed Russia was in showing very clear favouritism towards one specific country during work hours. She only knew of their peculiar relationship because she'd often spotted them outside of meetings, doing who-knows-what in their more private lives. Even during meetings, it wasn't this public. Russia would smile in Prussia's direction, but that was mainly the extent of it all.
Russia's smile was that of a victorious Cheshire cat's. He buried his face into Prussia's shoulder as Prussia merely took out a few documents, skimming over them.
"Now, let's continue the meeting, ja? There appears to be an issue regarding .."
But nobody could really focus anymore. Certainly not France, after finding out just how interesting their relationship was.