(mrs. robinson)
America's Gucci jacket is shrugged off, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His feet are on the dashboard of his car, next to the steering wheel. He's hunching down in his seat, holding a lighter to a glass opening.
Right now, Alfred is supposed to be in a briefing regarding the G8 about the newest ideas in extinguishing pollution. 'Fuck that,' Alfred thinks, pulling away from the bong and rubbing his eye. He would literally rather get high than go to a stupid briefing.
His iPhone in his jacket rings for probably the billionth time this morning, alerting him of another text from England or Canada or maybe Japan or some government official wanting the latest information about some fucking stocks or something.
Outside Alfred's car window, France is late, fumbling with his tie and looking around. He notices Alfred's car is blaring music, and he ends up going to the window, wondering, 'Did Alfred really fall asleep? Is he at the meeting?' and knocking on the window.
At that moment, Alfred has an aneurysm, almost dropping his bong and throwing his lighter across the car. He's a bit high, yeah, but he still turns down the music and opens the window of his car.
"Yeh?" Alfred mumbles, resting his head lazily on his seat.
"What are you doing? Where did you get that?" France asks hysterically, pointing at the glass in Alfred's hand.
"Jus' get in the car, an'gemy lighter," America says, closing his window to France's face and turning the volume up.
Needless to say, France gets in the car without a second thought. Hey, who is he to deny a free high?
An hour later, Francis is upside down in his seat, and Alfred is laying on the dashboard, his feet hanging off the steering wheel, the two completely baked as hell. The bong is on the floorboard of the passenger seat, fairly used up and the two are going back and forth with that barely intelligible banter.
"He'so lovin' you, man," Alfred whispered, tapping the windshield, and Francis shook his head, his shoulders shaking, in a strange mix between laughing and sobbing.
"I love'im so much,"
"Muhbrutherisinlovewithyouman," Alfred laughed, and Francis nodded wildly.
"England loves you somuch, Al-Alfred," France said, and America waved a hand of dismissal.
"Pfft, yeah, okay, man," Alfred said, dangerously close to crying.
"He does, 'merique, I swear by—by my hand!"
"You lie!"
Alfred hits his head on the windshield, and moves back down to the driver's seat.
"I heard him!"
"Let's go see, then! God!" Alfred screeched, opening the car door and stumbling out, Francis doing the same.
"You are despicable," England scowls at America, "honestly."
"Are you saying you didn't like it when I declared my love for you?"
"You were high."
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean that it's not true, y'know—that I love you."
hey all! there is a possibility i might add another chapter to this... if enough of you like it. so, let me know! thank you for reading!