"Holy fucking titties Batman, with a prick that huge you don't need a stick!"

Russia giggled.

America gazed over the ice ring with beer clouded eyes. He couldn't place the moment when everyone decided to get naked and play hockey, and he really could care less. The ring was empty of anyone other than themselves and bottles of Molson.

Never mind the when, where and how. It was time to play some fucking hockey.

Well, being completely in the buff was only part true. He himself wore his Nike Air Jordan's – because he was the her-fucking-ro, and he can totally own this game without any skates – Russia with his scarf, and Poland in his skirt.

Though America was pretty sure there was nothing under it. Oh and England.

England wore his old pirate hat.

It didn't surprise him that his brother could get them into a vacant ice hockey rink in the middle of the night being stark raving drunk. What did surprise him was how he never noticed how nice of an ass Russia had.

The usually soft spoken Canadian had taken on a much more aggressive persona. He grunted like a wild bare and bared his teeth. America was positive his brother was not only drunk but high also. But that didn't matter because it was pretty damn hot when the Canadian body checked England into the plexiglass.

Lithuania beat his hickey stick against the ice in front of the goal net like a territorial animal; he glared daringly for anyone to try and get the puck past him. Poland was practically humping his leg because of the uncharacteristic aggressive personality the drunk Lithuanian took on – and the Pol wasn't even on his team. Better than him rutting up against Russia though.

Because America kind of wanted some of that.

Oh hey the puck was coming right his way! - ha ha, coming.

Spain swiveled the puck against his hockey stick with a bounce in his step for America' direction. And did he bounce. America readied himself, he was so gonna get this one.

"No way you're gunna get this past me! Ha ha~!"

America waited for the right moment and took it to intercept Spain, he slid his hockey stick forward to block and swung-

Only to miss completely and Spain glided right past him humming and singing his national anthem.

"Oh fuck-" the force of his swing was too strong and it caused the American to half spin and fall on his ass. He screeched. "Holy shit ice is cold!" America scrambled up hurriedly. Which was more like clumsily with his hand slipping and sliding all over the ice in front of him and his ass raised to the air. Russia watched appreciatively.

"No shite Sherlock." England rolled his eyes and took a swig from his beer with one hand and held his stick in another. Germany held onto the goal netting to keep from falling. He was cross-eyed and saw more than double and goddamnit he couldn't feel his legs anymore. Somehow when drunk Italy gained super-no-more-clumsy-powers and spun and glided to the side of the net cheering Germany on. "Go Germany go! You can do it ve~" Because even with the power of Molson Italy still screamed at being chased even when playing hockey.

Prussia had bitched about his team not having a cheerleader. But he was quickly over it when a one hundred percent naked drunk Canadian began to bark orders and snarled aggressively at the other team.

Prussia creamed his naked self when Canada had threatened to "shove five feet of hard wood up his ass if he didn't stop running his mouth off and play the damn game."

Spain knocked the puck to the goal net, which hit Germany right in the foot, causing him to lose his footing. The German fell face first onto the ice. Hard. He didn't move after that having been reduced to a drunken-ice coma. Italy screamed and began to sob over Germany's prone body, draping his equally naked body atop his.

Spain clapped his hands with Spanish glee and giggles as he did a little victory dance at his goal.

The dance ended as soon as it began when England glided past him and stole the puck with a drunk but audible "YARR." Spain was suddenly flooded with memories of his younger years as a pirate and being both violated and beaten around by the English Nation, and began to sob. His knees quivered and he hugged his hockey stick. "F-fucking gringo!"

Romano sat in the bleachers looking content with himself. He was actually feeling pretty damn Pimp. He was gloriously in the nude with the World's Finest out on display before him and he was pleasantly drunk. Nothing could bother him this night oh no. France didn't even make him twitch.

Said Frenchman was on his knees (quivering, begging and needy) between Romano's legs with a fistful of blond hair. Romano gave a yank. "Fucking French invented the word 'bitch', now own up to it. Bitch." Romano took a long drink of his beer and shoved France's face into his crotch. He was definitely Pimp tonight.

Let's get back to the game shall we?

Prussia battled against England for the puck. With a sword.

America would have complained at how unfair it was, but Russia had his pipe in place of the hockey equipment. And America thought it was kind of sexy.

England threw poisonous curses and drunken slurs at the Prussian while the older German stabbed at the ice for the puck with maniacal laughter.

Eventually it turned into an all out duel, England fending off Prussia's raised sword with his well manufactured hockey stick. Russia stole the puck and actually skipped his way to the goal.

It was America's turn to gaze at that fine white Russian ass.

Lithuania glared and blocked Russia's goal with a violent swing, flacks of ice flying into the air. It was a feat in itself what with Poland hanging off the Lithuanian's neck from behind moaning wanton and attacking his neck with his tongue. Russia giggles at Lithuania's glaring eyes and pets his head. "Such a good little Leit~."

Russia made a move to cuddle at the Lithuanian, only to be violently shoved into the ice with a snarl. Poland hiccupped. "You –hic- not do that ever! Satellite for you no more!" If his face hadn't been fashioned into a manly gruff scowl and glaring green eyes, Lithuania's sentence would have been laughed and mocked at.

That and he took a vehement swing at the Russian sprawled out on the ice with his goal stick narrowly missing his cock and landing with a painful sound on the frozen water. America blanched; he had been eyeing that meat from the very beginning!

He kind of wanted it in his mouth. Because he was America and he liked to eat meat.

Russia blinked and tilted his head not really understanding what Lithuania was (trying) to say. So let out a bubbly giggle and gracefully got up from the ice- obviously it having no affect on the Russian Nation at all. He pirouetted away.

Prussia and England ditched their weapons – with the sword having been lodged into the plexiglass and hockey stick shattered into splintering halves. They began to outright beat and pummel each other in an all out fist fight. There was a Prussian shaped blood splatter on the ice from having his face smashed into it and England with dried clotted blood in his eyebrows.

Italy had achieved in rolling Germany on his back and attempted to give him CPR. Italy just ended up either missing the German's mouth altogether and blowing annoying blubbers of air on his face or up his nose. Germany was indeed going to have a bad case of ice burn when he awoke.

America wobbled in his tennis shoes and use his hockey stick to steady himself as he watched his brother angrily chase after the drunk and playful Russian for trying to cuddle with him. (Though the fact that Russia began to sniff the Canadian and call him "America" could also be an underlying reason)

Oh holy shit Lithuania just sent the puck flaying on the ice with a crazy ax-murder's swing-! America licked his lips and readied his hockey stick, the puck inching itself over directly at him. He so got it this time.

"Little mother fucker 'bout ta get owned~" The right moment came and he swung to put the puck and—

He missed. The puck glided right passed him and into Germany's head inside the goal. Italy screamed.

Once again the momentum of America's swing was too great, and this time his hold too lax. The hockey stick flew out of hands and went airborne.

And rammed right into Spain's head. The Spanish Nation blinked and sniffed back his tears (yes he was sobbing this entire time) before a wave of emotion changed on his face. He snarled and eyes flashed dangerously. "América I will kill you!"

Like a bull Spain charged intent with a rumble in the back of his throat. He exuded the intent to passionately cause violent bodily harm. He leaped and tackled-

Canada to the icy ground. "Fucking eh?" Canada was not pleased by this at all. How dare someone tackle him in his own hockey ring! Like a territorial bear needing to defend its home, Canada let out a roar.

A motherfucking roar.

The two rammed and slammed on the ice, mauling, snarling, roaring and making any other noise akin to an animal saying fuck-off-you-fucking-fucktard-before-I-fucking-rip-your-fucking-face-the-fuck-off.

America watched drunk and dumb as his brother managed to all but rip off Spain's arms behind his back and slam him face first into the glass. If Spain didn't have a broken nose before, he did now. America was both disturbed out and turned on when Canada barged his teeth and bit down on the junction between Spain's neck and shoulder – like a wild animal trying to subdue its enemy.

Poland had lost his skates and wrapped his legs around Lithuania's waist straddling him while holding onto the goal netting for support. The Polish Nation shuddered and hoped he could get a piece of that action when done at the goal post. Lithuania seemed to notice Poland's attention to briefly shift elsewhere and made a deep displeased sound before thrusting his hips and ramming Poland up into the air against the net.

Prussia, like his brother, was rendered unconscious and was being dragged around by England by his hair. The Englishman had somehow gotten his hands on another bottle of Molson and chugged it in victory with his pinky held out. He had managed to keep his hat on through the entire fight.

Oh hello~

Two arms appeared on either side of America placing a pipe horizontally in front of him. Russia giggled and pressed his face into blond hair. "Mmmm~ smell so nice~" America pressed himself flush on the Russian, moaning when his bare back contacted with bare chest. Russia dipped his head down to nuzzle the American and America reached his arm back to press a hand on the Russian's head. He rutted back against the Russian and groaned. "Fuck yes~" Russia giggled and moaned at once turning his pipe vertically and pressing up, against, and between the American who grabbed at and held onto it.

Italy, also not gaining any super drunk powers of strength, dragged Germany off the ice.

In the morning Canada refused to leave his bed, remembering the night's activities and despaired over his ruined hockey ring and the embarrassment of his crazed personality switch.

That and Spain was in his bed also.

-end-

I own nothing

If this ever get around to someone who notices, yes this is a deanon.