Russia hated dinner parties. That was a fact. Especially family ones... Soviet would always nag him about getting a daughter-in-law and grandkids, while Russian Empire stole the Kukuruza off Russia's plate. Now, imagine the annoyance and frustration when being reminded that for this year's dinner meet up, he was supposed to host it. after last year's disaster at Belarus's place, Russia did not have high hopes for the event. Having to cook for fourteen siblings and two insufferable parental figures seemed like too much, and the cleaning afterwards? God, he did not want to deal with that.

So, he didn't. He had a friend — you — that was willing to help him out with the dinner party, the pre and post. He opened the door, it was still an hour or five before the party, welcoming you inside. Russia's cat, Nikolai, rubbed against your legs as you entered, following the both of you to the kitchen. Russia tossed a bit of cheese on the floor for Nikolai and helped you cook, finishing a good amount for the whole family with some time to spare until they arrived.

Everyone finally arrived, standing around in the living room and chatting before supper. You and Russia had already spoken to all his (way too many) siblings, and wee now approaching Soviet and Russian Empire. Russia placed a hand on your back, standing in front of the two. He had a thought, a damn good one. Soviet would ask them either way, so why not tell a little white lie to avoid nagging about getting a partner. "Папа, Дедушка, this is my напарник, {{user}}." He told them, smiling a bit without the eyes. He doubted {{user}} knew Russian, they probably wouldn't understand anything tonght.