A note from ME! Hey guys, it's been a while since I updated anything so I dug through a load of little one-shots I'd written in the past, cleaned them up and put them up. I hope you enjoy!

Too many Cooks

The United Kingdom brothers generally tried to avoid the World Meetings. They had much better things to do, like getting drunk, or seeing who could throw a log the furthest. In fact, it was the only time they acted like the 'United Kingdom', and sent England out to 'represent them.'

England himself didn't mind. It was better then letting his rowdy older brothers out in public. He'd never live it down. The only countries outside the British Isles that were acquainted with his brothers were France, Denmark and Norway, and it was better it stayed like that.

"Gud mornin', England!" England curled up tightly under the sheets as that loud, obnoxious voice drummed into his skull, and the curtains were drawn back to reveal a bright summers day – well, the brightest you got in England, anyway. Scotland smirked as he observed his little brother, hands on his hips. It took England a few seconds to realize what was wrong with that scene, and when he did, he shot up in bed.

"Y- YOU!" He spluttered. "What are you doing down north? In my house? In my room?" Scotland raised an eyebrow at the Union flag pyjamas.

"Ah, me and the boys just wanted ta see our wee brother, ye ken?" England gaped.

"T- the boys?" He asked. "W- who are the boys?"

"Well, North and Wales are doonstairs eaten brekkie." Scotland replied. England felt his eye twitch. His kitchen would be ruined, he just knew it.

"Now, hurry it up, ye scunner! We're gonna be late fer the meeting!" Scotland insisted. England paused, staring up at his fiery haired eldest brother.

"Y- You're gonna be late for what now?"

Germany checked his watch, frowning.

"Where's England?" He asked, looking around. "He's normally one of the first here…" Automatically, every gaze swivelled to France, who blinked.

"It's not my fault." He said haughtily, before adding under his breath "This time." Germany sighed.

"Looks like we'll just have to start without-"

"For the last time, NO!" Every country raised their heads to stare at the door from which England's voice had exploded. "Look, it's really not interesting; you have plenty of better things to do, I…" The ex-delinquent's voice was interrupted as the door was slammed open by an imposing man, with fiery red hair and muscles at least as big as Germany's. Behind him, a slimmer man with the same fire like hair and a blonde man who wore a happily oblivious expression followed, the rear taken by a reluctant looking England.

"H- hey…" He said, waving to his fellow nations weakly. "Sorry I'm late… My… brothers have decided to join…" Germany felt a pang of sympathy as he remembered his own older brother, who, after an incident with Austria's shirt and a firework, was banned from joining the world meetings.

"T- This is Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales." He said, gesturing to each of his brothers. Scotland smirked as he looked around, before his gaze paused.

"Franny!" He greeted, walking across to lightly punch France's shoulder. "How've ye bin, ye ol' frog eater?" France winced as he held his shoulder with one hand, but smiled.

"Ca va, merci. Et tu?" He asked, and smirked as he noticed England's glare on them. Scotland shrugged.

"Ah, ye ken, same ol'." He said. France smiled, patting the taller mans back. Germany sighed, clearing his throat.

"Are we going to start now?" He asked, his gaze darkening. England nodded, yanking Scotland back.

"Yeah, we'll start now." He told Germany, before hissing at his brothers. "I don't know what you're up to, but sit down and be quiet!" Before they could retort, he had turned and settled into his seat between France and America.

Across the table, the Republic of Ireland raised an eyebrow at him, nodding towards their brothers. England shrugged and shook his head sadly in return. France leant in to his neighbour.

"What are they doing here?" He asked. England sighed.

"I don't know. They suddenly declared this morning that they were coming to the meeting with me." France smirked.

"Maybe they want to spend some quality time with their "wee brother", non?" He sniggered, and England growled at him to shut his mouth, turning his attention to the front where Germany was still talking.

It wasn't long before England noticed a discreet rustling at the back of the room, but resisted the urge to turn and confront his brothers. As the rustling continued, one green eye began to twitch, but he clenched his fist in determination. France glanced round.

"Your brothers seem impatient…" He commented, and England scowled.

"I know." He said. "I just-" He stopped as Germany finished his speech, and looked to England, who nodded, standing up.

"We're gonna take a five minute break." He announced, checking his watch. Italy cheered as he scrambled up and ran round the table to talk to Germany. England sighed.

"I'm gonna grab a drink." He told France, who nodded, noting in amusement that England's accent slipped into a gruff, Devonshire growl when he was stressed.

"I'll have a glass of red wine, please. Real wine, not your English sewer water." He announced as England walked away. The so called gentleman casually flipped him as he left the room.

England sighed, draining the bottle of brandy before tossing it in the bin. He checked his watch, and noted with interest he was a couple of minutes late. Ah well. The other countries could survive without him for an extra minute or ten…

With his insane, evil genius type brothers.

Rolling his eyes, England stood up and straightened his jacket, heading back to the summit.

England entered the room to chaos. Scotland sat in one corner, matching Finland and Russia drink for drink, as Denmark bent over next to them, throwing up while being berated by an irritated Norway, and Germany lay snoozing against the wall. Wales, in the centre of the room, was happily petting a sheep with New Zealand and Australia, just one of many that were grazing on various books, papers and, in one case, Greece's hair. Greece, being asleep, didn't seem to mind.

One wall had, regrettably, appeared to be dubbed 'North's wall', as the red-head watched happily as it was blackened by flames licking up the paint. Switzerland and America watched in appreciation as this happened, not seeming to mind the heat or fire hazard. The majority of the world seemed terrified by the three tiny – geographically speaking – countries, and huddled carefully in the corner. The Republic of Ireland, used to the chaos that were their brothers, was casually sitting in a chair, the only one still sat at the table, reading. France was smirking as he leant against the wall next to the door, watching the now infamous British Isles brothers wreak terror and destruction.

The country of love looked up as he felt a dark, terrifying aura, and stared as England growled, shrugging off his jacket. The older blonde grimaced, and carefully slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. As he wandered away, the sounds of a struggle reached his ears, and he offered a quick prayer for Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. Mainly Scotland, though. England had always treated him with more contempt then the other brothers…

The meeting was moved, in the end, to the week after, and England was, as usual, one of the first there, sipping delicately at a cup of tea, one leg folded neatly over the other as he leant back in his chair with a content smile. He looked up as the other countries started to file in, and smiled.

"Morning!" He called happily, placing his cup back on the saucer, before placing them both on the table. "Ah, Russia, I wanted to ask a favour of you." The taller nation paused midway to his seat, and his gaze followed England's finger as the ex-pirate pointed to the back of the room, where the grumpy and battered Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland sat.

"I was wondering if you would keep an eye on those three. Feel free to use any methods you deem necessary if they start playing up." England smiled broadly, before picking his tea up again, taking another long sip of it, and sighing in appreciation. The witnessing nations watched him, terrified.

England was truly ruthless.