Blame it on Whatever England Drank
Rating: T
Warning: Awkward situations galore!
Summary: Because when England shows up at your door wearing nothing but an apron, you know that shit went down. *OC!States, Crack*
EDIT: the entire story has been rewritten and totally improved! :D I added little touches to California's personality, and made the story into a cracky comedy, which suited the fic better, while keeping the basic premise of the story.
There just isn't enough T rated Naked Waiter!England stories to go around, so a year ago I decided to do one. Unfortunately, I don't own Hetalia (or England), only the OC!States.
XXX
With a small stack of paperwork in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other, California sat down on the sofa in her living room, dressed in the tank top sleep set Spain had given her for her birthday. It was painfully obvious who it was from anyway: little tomatoes decorated the hems.
She reached for the pen on the coffee table and glanced over the first paper. Illegal immigrants again; she would have to talk to America about it, and maybe have him bring it up at the next World Conference.
If they even got around to discussing business that is. Besides, that would probably spark another war between America and Mexico, and that usually ended up in a tearful phone call from America that usually went along the lines of "Cali! Who did you love more as a dad? Me or Mexico?"
Truthfully, that phone call was not at the most opportune time (if you must know, she had been in the process of getting drunk with Pennsylvania, and the events of that night were something she'd rather forget.)
Signing the paper with her name, she set it aside and moved to an article about her dismal education. Ugh, just thinking about it made her want to get a pot brownie.
"Actually, I think I have some left over from when Netherlands and Canada got totally stoned and somehow hitchhiked to San Francisco," California mused to herself as she stood up.
Thump!
Startled, California jumped and nearly fell on top of her coffee table. "Ow! Damn..." Rubbing her foot, she turned her head toward Carlos, her faithful chocolate Labrador, and nodded.
Picking up on her nonverbal command, Carlos trotted to the door to investigate this mysterious intrusion on the relative quiet. However, a few moments later he ambled into the living room and curled up next to the sofa. California knew her pet was an excellent watchdog and since he was totally relaxed, that meant someone he (and she) knew was at the door.
When California opened the door you could've knocked her over with one of Spain's grapes.
England stood in front of her, swaying from left to right. His emerald green eyes were half-lidded; cheeks flushed a tantalizing pink, mouth in a mindless smile. A black bow tie with a white shirt collar went around his neck, matching cuffs on his wrists. A bare, flawless chest was faintly illuminated from the light pooling in her house. But what really made California's mind fly out the window was the short black apron tied around his hips.
Slamming the door in his face she scampered back to the living room and snatched her cell phone off the coffee table. "Louisiana, you won't believe who's at my door!"
"Mon ami, is Sacramento bothering you again?" the smooth accent of the Bayou state drifted into her ear.
"No. England's at my door dressed as a naked waiter!"
Louisiana sighed, "Why are you always the lucky one?"
"This has nothing to do with luck!" she ribbed.
"Perhaps not cherie, perhaps not; so what do you plan on doing?" the attempt to hide his smirk failed.
"I have no clue; maybe call Daddy and tell him tha—ACK!" a startled squeak escaped her as England started to throw his body against the door repeatedly. "Hold on a minute Lousiana!" backing up against the door, she used her body as a barrier between the drunken Englishman and her home. "Ok! You were saying?"
"Hahahahan~ Perhaps someone is getting some tonight, oui?"
After spluttering curses in mixed Spanish and Italian, California finally came up with, "I am not someone who sleeps around, unlike you mi amigo! Besides, do you know how old he is? Dio, that's the equivalent of sleeping with Spain!"
"Excuse me, but age did not stop you from sleeping with Romano, Beijing, Tokyo, and Seoul!"
California gritted her teeth, "For the last time, I. Was. Drunk!" Okay, so maybe she had a kink for hot Asians, but she knew for sure that she had been drunk when she slept with Romano. Another bodily thrust courtesy of England nearly knocked her away from the door.
"Blasted door…" she heard England mumble, "Open up! I'm th' bloody British Empire!"
"Not since 1945!" California yelled back. "Louisiana," she begged, "you have to help me!"
"BRITANNIA KICK!" A powerful kick with the unreal speed of an angry and drunk little British man sent her flying away from the door and swung her door open. She could only watch as England, in all his drunken glory, strode into her house like he fucking owned it and loomed over her. A blissfully victorious grin lit up his face as he snatched up her phone.
"Francesca, darling, what's going o—?" After fiddling with it a little ("Ruddy technol'gy…") he ended her call. Holding it up for her to see he tossed it onto the sofa.
Ocean blue eyes darted to the sofa before glancing back at the island nation. "H-How did you get into my house England?"
England still had that smile on his face, "Hailed a cab. Driver even let me ride for free."
I bet he did, she couldn't help think appreciatively, before slapping her mind to make sure she wasn't turning into France. He took a step closer to California, who quickly stepped back.
"Wh-what are you doing here anyway?"
He took another step forward, words coming out slurred, "Ambass'dr sent f'r me on bizness. Went out for a drink. Pubs here remin' me of home…although most o' them are fuckin' Irish."
I should've known, California thought. She dropped into an armchair and groaned. How was she going to survive this? After going through (and rejecting) several solutions, California looked up—and froze completely.
England had walked to her chair and was leaning down close to her, arms gripping both arms of the chair, trapping her in the seat.
Feeling a lump in her throat she kept her gaze away from England as much as possible. "You-you're drunk." Shitshitshitshit…
"Tippy," he corrected. "I onl' had one bloody beer. Wait," confusion riddled his face for a second, "is i' tippy o' tipsy. Dammit I don' know…"
"Tipsy," unable to not look at the practically naked country any longer California locked her eyes with England's half lidded gaze. Blush covered her cheeks despite herself and she looked down.
"Californ'a…" England slurred huskily, letting one hand trace her cheek gently before leaning down closer than before, blonde hair shining in the living room light.
Said state's head snapped up, only about a foot from England's. Meeting those emerald eyes she froze like a deer in the headlights. And despite herself, she couldn't help but feel that her name sounded dangerously hot when the naked waiter spoke it, the slightly slurred word sending a whiff of whisky to her senses, making her heart thud haphazardly in her chest. Shitshitshitshitshitshit…
Grrr, fine! She'll admit it—everything about England that night was dangerously hot – his slender, fair chest, half lidded eyes that whispered "bedroom", cheeks stained a rosy hue, mouth curved in a tipsy smirk, and that short black apron…
What the hell had happened to the real United Kingdom?
Leaning in until he was mere inches away, the island nation's hands gripped the arms of her chair, preventing her escape.
California instinctively leaned back until she hit the back of the chair, gaining only three inches of length from his face.
"Y' know," he said, trailing one hand down her jaw, "I want'd to make you part o' th' Empire a loooong time ago…"
"England, what—?" She was silenced as Arthur closed the distance and kissed her. Synapses, already wired and ready to shoot, fired emotions that ricocheted through her body. Oh my God he's kissing me! He's old enough to be my caretaker! This is wrong! WRONG! Whisky swam into her mouth as his tongue brushed her lip questioningly, one of his knees resting on the cushion of the chair to keep balance. The whisky, combined with the previous wine, addled her senses and she opened her mouth—and remembered a split second later what she was doing.
"Ngh…get…OFF!" Using both legs to kick him in the stomach he lurched backward and fell onto the floor like a flopping seal. California, panting as she wiped the thread of saliva on her mouth away, leaped up off the arm chair and sprinted towards her phone.
"Ther' will be time f'r phones later love," she heard England say behind her, an alluring smile on his face, "I need t' rebuild th' British Empire."
"Oh, heeeeell to the no!" Slipping into her street slang persona for a moment the Golden State snatched up the device and leaped the sofa, "Who are you and what've you done with England?"
"'E's still at th' bloody pub." Struggling to his feet, he stumbled toward her, alternating between lurching and sliding.
Letting out a wild shriek California ran for it, darting around the living room in her attempt to confuse England. Going through her contact list she selected the one labeled "Daddy" and listened to the ringtone. "Pick up pick up pick up pick up…"
"Cali Girl! What's shakin' bacon?"
"Daddy, you have to help me!" California wailed, switching from her usual self to 'Hollywood' rather quickly.
America immediately became concerned. "What is it Sweetie? Are your politicians threatening to split you up again?"
"It's England!" Hitting said nation in the face with one of her tomato pillows she continued her mad dash around her living room. "He's convinced himself that he needs to rebuild the British Empire!"
"That's bad," America gnawed his lip, "but look at it this way, it could've been France!"
"Daaaaaaadddyyyyyy!" she wailed again. "You're the one who needs to rescue him when he's drunk, what do you do?"
"Usually just take him back to his hotel room, but he's never tried to make me 'part of the empire'—that's something Prussia would do."
"Let me put it this way, if Russia showed up at your house drunk off his ass, what would you do?"
"Easy," America grinned, "knock out the bastard and then put him up for the night! The hero never lets an enemy get hurt because no one but the hero is allowed to hurt him!"
California beamed. "Great! Thanks Daddy!"
He chuckled, "No problemo Cali Girl. Uh," his face clouded in confusion, "wait, what are you going to—?"
Hanging up on him, the Golden State placed her phone on the coffee table and spun past England like a whirling dervish into the kitchen. Silently thanking Ohio for all those spectacles of whacking Pennsylvania with a frying pan, she wrapped her hands around the dark blue skillet and lifted it off the stove.
"England~" she sang as she stepped into the living room. "I decided that I want to be part of the British Empire~"
Looming in front of her like a grim reaper, England grinned, sliding in front of her and holding her face with both hands. "Thas' good love, now how 'bout we—?"
CLANG!
With a mighty swing of her frying pan, she delivered a blow to England that rendered him unconscious instantly and he slumped forward, falling against California and bringing her down with him.
"Erk!" she grunted in a panic, dying on the inside as the island nation lay sprawled on top of her, the flimsy apron fluttering against her thighs. She saw where it started to tie before disappearing behind England's hips. It was so tempting to let her fingers run over the bow, give one strand a tug, watch the apron fall to the floor…
Fuck! I'm thinking like France! Mentally slapping herself before her mind went out the window again California looked at the drunken and out cold young man. "I would suggest you stay tonight, but I assume that's out of the question."
Now the dilemma was how to extricate herself from the possessive grip of the man currently on top of her. Sending a prayer to God, Jesus, and anyone who was interested, she buried her shame and slowly spread her legs, sending England into a position of straddling her as she slid out of from under him, freezing in a panic as she brushed against the apron.
Once the danger had passed she completed her maneuvers and dragged him to his feet, heading past the living room and into the main hall. "Come on England," California grunted as she pulled the drunken nation upstairs.
Going over to one door she opened it and continued to drag England like he was a fresh corpse. "Thank God I inherited a little of Daddy's strength," she commented as she succeeded in tossing him onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. "Otherwise I would've died from the weight; you're heavier than you look, especially since you're basically dead weight right now."
Articles shifted as California rummaged in an armoire's drawers, soon coming up with blue jeans, blue-green/white boxers, and a white graphic tee, left behind by Florida when he visited. Folding and placing them on the night table, she violently ignored the warm tingles that ran through her body as she stared down at the defenseless form.
Pulling aside the bed covers she adjusted them and flung them over his body, tucking him in as tenderly as Spain did for her when she was younger. She went for the doors. "Good night England," hand on the doorknob she shifted her body to look at the blonde head sticking out of the blankets.
A sleepy, mumbled string of words that sounded like, "Back off bloody frog, America's my colony," answered her.
Quietly giving a snort of laughter California turned back to the doorknob and let herself out, mutely closing the door.
Holding the banister while descending the stairs she soon reentered the living room and flopped onto the couch with a dizzy sigh. Snatching her glass she took a generous gulp of wine and cast a baleful glance at her unfinished paperwork on the coffee table and conceded to the wine once more. There was no way she was finishing her work tonight.
Carlos jumped onto the couch next to her with a soft thump, lying down with his paws crossed and head up.
His mistress looked at him slightly reproachful, bringing a hand out to stroke his head, "And where were you, mi hijo, when all this craziness was happening?" Finishing her glass in a final swig she plunked it down.
"Cali~fornia girls, we're unforgettable~"
Snatching up her phone, she placed it to her ear as she poured more wine. "H-hello?"
A very FRENCH laugh answered her, "Ohonhonhon~ And how are you this fine night?"
"France," pronouncing the name like it was a death sentence she placed the wine bottle on the table. "I'm guessing Louisiana called you?"
"Yes. When I heard from Leon that Angleterre had invaded your home, I simply had to call. But tell me," here he crossed one leg over the other like a therapist, "how was he acting?"
"A lot like you when you're drunk. I.e. trying to sleep with any attractive human you can find."
A sound that to her ears was an awful lot like "Pffffffffft" came over the phone as France doubled over in laughter. "Mon Dieu, I can't believe he didn't realize…I had no idea…and he tells everyone that he can tell when it's there!"
Irritated further by his patronizing tone and the wine she consumed, California growled, "Drink what, France?"
"My dear, do you know how easily affected our beloved England is by drink?" After listening to the affirmative, he continued, "Well, the symptoms you described—all of which a deviation from his normal drunken state—I have a very vivid memory of Angleterre acting like that many years ago during Carnival in Rio!"
The anvil dropped on her head with a satisfying bash as France's laughing explanation echoed in California's ears long after the phone call was over: "Someone had slipped an aphrodisiac into his drink!"
XXX
I bet it was France, that sly dog. *shifty eyes* I hope you enjoyed the crack that is my story. xD Reviews, of course, are always welcome and appreciated.
-Education is a big issue in CA right now. Budget cuts are threatening to kill the arts in schools.
-California has Little Tokyo, Korea Town, at least two Chinatowns, and a Little Italy from sleeping with those nations' capitals as well as Romano, since they were both raised together by Spain.
-The British Empire was officially dissolved after WWII, which ended in 1945.
-In the 16th century, when England showed an interest in Alta California, Spain claimed her after ignoring the area for roughly 227 years (according to Wiki).
-Politicians occasionally try to split California into two. Yeah. That's seriously what happens.
-Because California has the largest economy of all that states as well the most people, I decided to give her some of America's strength, but not a lot.