Title: Lacking In Any Sanity
Summary: The UN kindly requests you stop terrifying the interns. Oh, and having sex in all the cupboards. That too.
Pairing(s): Implied America/England, Australia/New Zealand, Germany/N. Italy, Poland/Lithuania, UN/EU.
Length: 2,675
Warning(s): Utter insanity, seriously.
A/N: Revision? What's that! HAH.

The meeting was proceeding smoothly – that is to say, no one had started throwing chairs, and that is to say, England hadn't started throwing chairs. However, it was only a matter of time. There were plenty of them lying around after all.

"-and so, with those main articles to discuss, I shall hand the floor..." Germany pursed his lips, exhaling through his nose and praying to a higher being for protection. "I shall hand the floor, over to Amer-"

Germany had barely begun the hand over when America erupted out his seat, shoving the other nation off the podium and crashing into the Mediterranean's a few seats down. "THANK YOU!" He yelled into the microphone, causing poor Latvia to jerk sideways out his seat in surprise. America raised his arms, trying to placate whatever standing ovation was currently occurring in his mind. "Please, hold your applause."

Someone coughed.

America remained unfazed.

"Okay!" He chirped, dragging the microphone a bit further out the stand, forgetting he was already mike-d up and causing a massive screech of feedback to travel down the headphones. The majority of nations winced, England's yell of – DON'T BE SUCH A TIT AMERICA – conveying the general mood of the room.

A minority had been sensible enough to plug their headphones into mp3 players – they had no idea what was being said, and therefore probably had the most democratic vote out the lot of them.

"Right, anyway!" America waved off the general agony of the room with a sunny smile. "Back to me!" The temperature of the room dropped a few degrees. "So, I've been thinking really hard about it this time, and I think I've finally figured out how to stop Global Warming!"

"America," Germany began, slowly, in case he attempted to throw him down another row of chairs for stealing his thunder. "This meeting is on Nuclear Disarm-"

"HAHA. Oh Germany, you're such a loon." Which is to say: touch my nukes, and everyone dies. "Anyway! Like I was saying, what we need to do is get a massive-"

The door burst open. America faltered, and several nations stood in their seats, craning their necks to see their latest interruption – except for Poland, who was too busy jiving to the latest Katy Perry song with unusual and worrying vigour.

"NOBODY MOVE!" An unfamiliar voice bellowed from the debris, followed by a hacking cough as they inhaled some of the plaster. "THIS IS-" Another cough, it sounded like they were trying to clamber over the wreck of the door without really having had much practise of doing so. "THIS IS-"

"Sparta?" A translator offered helpfully.

They were swiftly ushered out the room, a black bag over there head. For that was just being too silly.

After a few seconds of respite, a figure finally made his way into view. He stood atop the wreckage, the swirl of plaster around his feet as beams of light filtered through the dust, making it impossible to see his face. All of this was somewhat ruined when a light fitting smashed off his head.

America took this opportunity to lean over the podium. "...Canada?" He enquired hopefully.

"Oh for fucks sake!" Canada yelled from the back, ripping his headphones off and storming for the door. "Why do I even BOTHER?"

Spain, who had been sat next to him at the time, blinked in bewilderment as he went. "Who was that?" He asked, tilting one of his headphones off to listen to the answer – something that sounded like 'My Hips Don't Lie' playing down the speakers.

"I have no idea; I thought he was a translator."

"Whoever he is, he's very angry."

There was a general nod of agreement, and Poland began chirping about being hot enough to melt popsicles.

Everyone pretended he wasn't there.

"RIGHT!" The figure erupted upwards once again, eyes slightly crossed from the blow to the head. "NOBODY MOVE!" He repeated, waving his weapon about his head.

England frowned. "That is a water pistol." He pointed out, rather fairly.

The unknown man sighed, resting a hand on his hip – "I know, but my founding morals mean I'm banned from holding firearms so this is all I can do." He squirted the gun for emphasis. "I am however, allowed to unleash rabid ferrets. So don't test me!" He growled, shoving the gun into England's face for Extra Threatening Aura. He even put it on its side.

Whatever England said next was edited out the records, caused several translators to lose their jobs, and almost started a war in a small cafe in East Rome.

The stranger also backed off rather quickly.

But that was just a bonus.

"Well, that was just rude!" The intruder announced – safely repositioned on the other side of the room behind Russia, in a very strange definition of safe, of course. "If I had a mother, she'd of been a very decent person!"

"Where the fuck is security? Isn't it their jobs to stop this stuff?" Romano wondered aloud.

"We have security?" Australia mumbled in awe. "Seriously? I thought they were just France's groupies or something, the amount of times they take you into the back to have your clothes taken off in this place...jeeze." There was a murmur of agreement, and France began scribbling down ideas for a new battle plan all over his notes. It wasn't like nuclear warfare mattered in the face of not being able to grope unresisting nations.

"Yeah! I mean, the amount of people who keep breaking in here, it's ridiculous!"

"...Prussia, you aren't supposed to be here either." Germany muttered patiently, massaging his temples.

Prussia ignored him. "All in favour of actually getting some security?"

"Aye!" For a millisecond it looked like the UN had finally agreed unanimously on something, until England yelped, and went diving under the table.

France sighed. "Mon cher, Scotland isn't actually here. It's just a term of agreement."

"I know," England hissed from under the table, sounding alarmingly frantic. "But it's a default fucking reaction! Now someone go check on Yorkshire! It might not be there when I get back!"

"Ahem!" The stranger cut in, waving from behind the mountain known as Russia. "I'm still here you know!"

"And me!" America protested, loathing the attention spinning off him for longer than its recommended three seconds.

"Yes, well, I'm about to deal with you!" The unknown man announced, flouncing out from behind his 'safe' spot.

America glared – he didn't trust a man who could flounce better than him. It always spelt trouble. "Oh yeah? Who the hell are you anyway?"

It seemed like the guy had been waiting for that very question, for he suddenly inflated with self assessed importance, flicking some of his hair away from his face and beaming. "I, oh ignorant ones, am the personification of the United Nations!" He waited for the gasps of shock, swooning women and frantic apologies.

All he really got was a Styrofoam Cup thrown at his head.

"Fuck off!" Someone yelled from the back.

"I am!" He insisted, stamping his foot in effeminate rage. "And I am pissed off!"

"How can you be the personification of the UN? That doesn't even make sense!" Hungary interjected, slamming her fist off the table and nearly splitting it in two. This was the last time they stocked their meeting room with furniture from IKEA.

"Oh, it doesn't even make sense!" The 'UN' repeated in a high falsetto voice, shooting Hungary a glare. She cracked her knuckles, regretting that she'd left the frying pan at home that particular day. "Says you, Miss Personification of a Country!"

"I will end you." Hungary vowed.

"Deep breaths darling, remember what the councillor said." Austria murmured, confiscating any sharp objects from within her reach.

"Anyway," the United Nations, for no one could really be bothered to argue at this point, drawled. "Like I said, it has come to my attention that the time is ripe to speak out for myself about a few issues." He pulled a piece of paper out his pocket, well, a wad would be more accurate, and wandered over to the podium.

Several nations paled. This looked like it was actually work. The fictional construct they told their colonies about if they didn't go to bed on time.

England just wondered how on earth he'd managed to fit all that in one pocket.

"Hey, it's my turn to speak!" America protested once the UN had reached the top. "You can wait your turn!"

"Bumpkin," The United Nations began soothingly, resting a hand on the super powers forearm. "I'm the representation of the UN - democracy can kiss my totalitarian arse. Off the podium."

America sat down after that, mostly to contemplate the meaning of his own existence.

"Okay! Can everyone hear me?"

"Unfortunately," muttered Hungary darkly.

"Cuz, you're hot n' you're cold!" Sang Poland, making suggestive and wholly inappropriate gestures toward a mortified Lithuania.

"Fuck off!" The anonymous person yelled from the back. The UN was really starting to get annoyed with him.

"Excellent! Item one – the no bullying the humans policy. " There was a collective groan, and Holland began passing round weed. "Oh shut up! It's not like you guys make it easy for them! The amount of humans I have come blubbering to me about how this nation told me this, and that nation touched me there-"

"SHE SAID SHE WANTED IT!" France exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Everyone gave him a very blank stare and decided to pretend the last five seconds hadn't happened.

POLITICS IN ACTION.

"Er, yeah. Anyway." The UN ploughed on, coughing into his fist in an attempt to regain composure. It was hard to achieve when covered with plaster powder. "I want that to stop, I don't want to spend every meeting going 'Oh Mr President its okay, I'm sure he didn't mean that about your wife!'"

"Ve~ well maybe if she got some better shoes I wouldn't have to say anything!" At this point even the guards outside leaned in to stare. North Italy just giggled and went back to drawing tomatoes over Germany's notes, the nation in question trying to avoid the death glare being sent at him by Romano.

"So...yeah. Onto item two!"

"Item two! ITEM TWO!" Denmark exclaimed, voicing the panic that was seeping through the room. "We've never got that far before! HOLD ME SWEDEN."

Sweden punched him. It was extraordinarily cathartic. He made a mental note to do it more often.

"Okay everyone!" Germany hushed, as horrified whispers swept round the room. "Just remain calm. I'm sure by item three England and America will start fighting again." He looked at the two nations in question. "Isn't that right?"

"...democracy is meaningless..." America mumbled, staring up at the ceiling.

"Has anyone checked on Yorkshire yet?" England snarled, snapping at France's ankles from under the table.

"Oh dear."

"Still talking!" The UN hissed, slamming his fist off the podium. He then realised why only manly people like Hungary did that, and ducked down to nurse the injured appendage beneath the stand.

"Dude," New Zealand muttered in sympathy. "No more special time for you then."

"Ew." Belgium uttered, wrinkling her nose. "There are ladies present."

"Right!" The United Nations leapt back to his feet. "Item two-" another shriek of terror, Denmark was quickly escorted from the room. "-stop ignoring rulings passed here! And actually get some work done!"

"...we're supposed to be working?" Australia gaped at the personification in shock. "I thought this was just an annual group therapy session! I can't take this much truth in one day man."

"See! This is what I'm talking about!" He narrowed his eyes, pushing his glasses back up his nose, as he leaned over the podium to glare at the rather lax Australia. "Despicable."

"Oi! No one talks about my colonies like that! Except for me!" England snapped, finally crawling out from under the desk. The United Nations regarded him coolly, walking slowly out from behind the podium. He reached up with one hand and took his glasses off, tucking them gently into his top pocket.

"Ah yes, I have something very special to tell you about England." The UN cleared his throat. "Item 3-"

"GERMANY LIED."

"...existence is meaningless..."

"Someone take that eyeliner away from America, he's going to gauge an eye out! Probably not his own!"

"ITEM THREE." The UN repeated, bending down suddenly and gripping a chair. One minute England was standing, wondering why he was going to get the blame for the choice of decor, and the next he was sprawled across the floor, a rather sizeable bruise on his forehead.

"STOP THROWING CHAIRS! This is a government building, not a wrestling ring! Also, it gives me really bad indigestion, and I come out in a rash, so please don't. Think of my beautiful skin."

England gargled something that could've possibly been 'okay' or 'wanker' and France leapt from his seat, sensing opportunity.

"Fear not mon petit Angleterre! I shall administer CPR!"

"Er...France...I don't think his clothes need to be off for that..." Norway stated, really regretting showing up to these things.

"I don't think France's clothes need to be off either." Portugal remarked, wondering if he should help, and then remembering he wasn't that good of a best friend and went back to observing from his safe vantage point at the back.

"See!" The UN snarled, pointing at the KO'd England on the floor. "This violence is exactly what I'm talking about!"

"But you're the one who threw the chair, aru!" China despaired, tugging at his hair.

"Make love, not war!" The UN ploughed on, making a 'V' peace sign and beaming.

"Please don't encourage France..." Romania sighed, not at all surprise when, not two seconds later, France was also on the floor howling in pain as England administered a particularly lethal kick to his favourite appendage.

"FATALITY!" Estonia hollered, realised he probably should've kept that reference to himself, and went back to watching videos of fat people falling off chairs on YouTube.

"Item 4, the most important." The UN wandered over to a nearby cupboard, swinging the door open and walking inside. For a second he was no longer in view, and the remaining nations sighed in relief, then he wandered back, holding a wad of paper in one hand, and an ink cartridge in the other. "See these?" He held the items aloft. "This is what we put in cupboards, not fornicating nations."

An awed 'oo' went round the meeting room, as though they were watching a fire display instead of a rather irate personification.

"So...where are we supposed to go now?" Australia mumbled, wrinkling his nose.

"You could, I don't know, get a room!"

"...beds are boring, mate." He purred, giving New Zealand a lecherous leer that the other ignored with admirable restraint.

"Right, well!" The UN chirped, clapping his hands in glee, forgetting about the ink cartridge and accidentally covering himself in black ooze. He chose to ignore it, he had so done that on purpose. "I think I've made me point quite nicely..."

He glanced around the room.

America was trying to talk to a paranoid England about the deeper meaning of a happy meal toy, and how it was a metaphor for human limitation. Poland had started talking about disco sticks, and activities one was able to accomplish with them. And it looked like France was still unconscious from the blow England had dealt him earlier.

All in all it was a significantly lower casualty rate than normal, and the UN patted himself on the back for it. The EU would so stop going on about her 'crippling headache' and sleep with him now, he thought in triumph.

(Out of a cupboard, of course.)