Slurred Words And Hiccuped Promises

You know those days when everything just seems to suck ass and everything is irritating you? Today was just one of those days. One of those days when the tube of toothpaste is empty, and there's no more toilet paper, and when Flying Mint Bunny is busy visiting her friend, Twinkle Fairy (who is a complete bitch, by the way.) All of those things happened to England, and that was just in the morning. Then he had to go to a World Meeting in America and listen to the other insufferable nations argue (Romano and Germany, Greece and Turkey, Prussia and Hungary (occasionally Austria,) etc, etc.) and pitch stupid ideas that would never, never, never, in this lifetime, work! Cough, America, cough. There was also that stupid bloody frog who kept attempting to molest him (and Italy, at times.) What the hell was wrong with that stupid snail-eater?!

So, basically, today sucked some serious ass. Thus, he decided to go drinking. And this time, he made sure that France would not come along. (Waking up in the frog's bed had been a terrifying experience. At least he was mostly clothed, though. Mostly.) He could only hope that none of the other nations found him there. He was told that he was very social and open when he was drunk, as well as somewhat depressed. Anyway, without further ado, "To getting shit-faced drunk!" He cheered with himself, knocking his two scotch bottles together.

Clink!

...

"I was the great British bloody Empire, where did it all go?" England sobbed to himself, leaning with his forehead against a dark corner in the bar, jumping and turning around to face the opposing party when his back was rubbed. "Th-there there, A-Arthur" a familiar voice hiccuped, obviously drunk as well. "What the bloody hell are you doing here, Ita-Feliciano?" England slurred, just barely catching himself from jeopardizing their identities. (Again...He was rather...distracted whilst drunk.)

"Ger-Luddy and Gilbert wanted to go drinking, b-but I just tagged a-al-long a-and I think Gilbert m-may have p-put a s-stronger a-alcohol in m-my dr-drink" Italy giggled, looking rather beautiful with flushed cheeks. And drunken England acknowledged this. "Feliciano, I don't think that you've realized how absolutely stunning you" England purred, leaning closer to the (slightly) younger nation.

"T-thanks" Italy giggled, and continued, "Even if y-you are a little s-scary sometimes, I think you're pretty h-handsome" Italy smiled charmingly, despite the drunken slur still managing to sound just that, charming. Yet he didn't lean closer. (Then again, he didn't lean away either.)

England smirked as he leaned even closer to the tantalizing nation. Italy giggled lightly when England rested his forehead on his own. "May I?" England purred, because even drunk, he was a gentleman at heart. (And a pirate, and a punk, and a...well, I can't think of anything else England was.) "Yes" Italy-Feliciano smiled and Arthur leaned in, only to stop just before his lips. "I want to see your eyes, Feliciano" Arthur mumbled on a whim (Okay, that was a lie, he had wanted to see Italy's eyes before, but had never known how to ask), lips just barely brushing against Feliciano's.

Feliciano in his drunken state didn't hesitate, if only to feel the soft lips of the other nation on his own. Honey golden, almost hazel eyes (perhaps it was hazel, he couldn't see that well here) opened and met with green. "Beautiful" Arthur mumbled before his eyes slid closed and he went to close the distance between their lips. Their lips touched softly and that was all they needed before the kiss began getting more passionate. Feliciano's arms found their way around Arthur's neck, tangling in his hair, and Arthur's arms found themselves around the lithe waste of his partner, hands just barely resting on that cute little butt of his.

After awhile, both needed breath and released the other's mouth. Both panted and eyes were lidded and glazed with alcohol and lust and...another unfamiliar emotion. Feliciano initiated the kiss this time and Arthur's tongue entreated entrance at Feliciano's mouth and Feliciano allowed the hot, wet muscle entrance.

"Mm" Arthur and Feliciano both moaned softly as they felt the other fight for dominance, having the respective skilled tongue slide against the other. Eventually, Arthurs hands found themselves under Feliciano's thighs and pulled the other nation up so that the thin legs were wrapped around his hips. As soon as he did this, he turned around so that Feliciano's back was against the wall.

"W-what the-! Hey, West, look! KESESESESESE!" They didn't register the familiar cackle until a voice boomed out at them, making them jump apart quickly, causing a brunette's head to hit the wall before a blond helped him get his footing by grabbing Feliciano's arm tightly. "FELICIANO! ARTHUR! ARTHUR, YOU'RE DEAD!" Germany bellowed from the other side of the bar, face burning red at seeing them in such a compromising position. It appeared that Prussia had been pointing out that England was taking "advantage" of Italy.

"C-crap" Arthur cursed, flicking a glance over at Germany then to Feliciano who had a beautiful blush on his face and a pout on swollen lips, whilst he rubbed his slightly hurting head softly with his free arm. He warily watched Germany as he swayed for a moment, before stomping towards them angrily. However, it would take a good minute to reach them with his pace and distance from them.

"Will you remember this tomorrow?" Arthur found himself asking somewhat hopefully. "Y-Yes, I will d-definitely remember this. And y-you?" Feliciano asked breathily, searching the slightly older nation's expression. "Of course" Arthur smiled charmingly, despite the drunken slur, taking delight in Feliciano's blush. "And...make sure you remember this" Arthur murmured before he gave Feliciano a soft, sweet kiss this time.

Feliciano pulled away first. "I w-will, I promise, but you should r-real-ly get going before Luddy gets here" Feliciano mumbled, flicking his eyes across to Germany who was only a short twenty seconds away. "Alright, love, call me in the morning when your hangover passes" Arthur smirked softly before disappearing into the crowd of drunken dancing people. "ARTHUR!" He heard Germany shout angrily as he snickered softly. "Humph, the wanker's just mad because Feli's mine now" Arthur smirked before blinking. His? Since when was Italy his?

"Since you kissed him, of course! But remember, he is not an object to be owned" Flying Mint Bunny informed him, the ever helpful friend. "I know...Hey, you're back!" England grinned happily and drunkenly as Flying Mint Bunny regarded him warily. "Yeah, I am, Twinkle Fairy is kind of a bitch" she sighed tiredly as England's eyes widened. "My thoughts exactly!"

...

England made it to America's home surprisingly unharmed. And if Germany and Prussia glared at him much more than they used to, and he or Italy blushed or smirked when they "accidentally" sat next to each other or brushed against each other, no one else would really be able to connect the dots because there was never any real evidence...Well, there was that one time in the closet...Damn France...Damn you...