Bad-Assery Subject to be Censored
Slight Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters
Any character likenesses or ideas to actual persons is completely coincidental and totally and accidentally on purpose ;)
Rated M for language
Title subject to change
This fanfic was not only for my own amusement but also as a response to a nonchalantly made request by BAYBAY841. This is also my first fanfic so bear with me - I looked it up and that is the correct use of the term X] - You see that? Yeah bro, that is totally how dedicated I am to this! No way am I half-assin' this shiznit! XD
Alright, I can hear the Monty Python characters yelling at me to "Get on with it!" so I'll stop rambling so you can enjoy yourselves.
Rate and Review or whatever you guys do on here. Again, first time XD
Chapter One: Colons Aplenty and a Drunken Trump of Hearts!
Narrator: Is everyone listening? No? Good, because these are words, so you should be reading. And even if you're not, I could care less.
Anyways, in today's fanficiton, the Americas are throwing a party and all of the other nations, including a few civilians of their choice, are invited for an evening of drinking, dancing, and a whole sack full of drama for all of those fangirls and guys with France, Japan and Hungary characteristics. American fan translation: A whole freaking night of bad-ass partying, fist-pumping, getting hammered and getting laid!
Location: Britain's bedroom in his UK home.
Arthur was dreading tonight. He let out a sigh as he gave up on deciding between his ACDC and Rolling Stones t-shirts and threw both (with much pent up frustration) into the UK flag-styled suitcase lying on his bed. He then threw in a few motor jeans and his more casual suits, just in case.
He never really liked going to the parties thrown by his fellow nations; the activities always included drinking. Both the Lord and Queen knew after a few pints, he would be asking anyone who would listen just exactly what his religious status was. And since the party was to be held in the United States, Arthur thought of the horror of future obscured judgment.
The butterflies in Arthur's stomach only showed how nervous he felt about the possibility of drunken slurs and what secrets he might reveal, especially in the presence of America. He smacked himself in the forehead for even thinking of that wanker. Arthur knew he had trust issues and he knew how he felt about Alfred… how he was strongly, and not surprisingly attracted to his once colony. But…. He wasn't sure if he wanted to even confess his feelings to Alfred. He had his reasons, too.
America, if one hasn't noticed, is a bit of an international relations whore and can be so annoying. He got on everyone's nerves with his "hero" talk and his nosiness and anyone could lose their lunch just by watching him eat. However, Arthur knew how much Alfred cared for other people, and although his goal was a bit extreme, the idea of giving everyone unalienable freedoms was actually quite respectable, even though Britain would never give up his loyalty to his queen. Also, Alfred has quite recently gotten himself into a bit of a health craze… he still has much of a ways to go; South Carolina is still really heavy, and a bit of a douche. But America's commitment to getting healthy is really admirable. Why, just the other day, Britain saw how much agony Alfred was in as a nearby hamburger tempted him to take a bite. Still….
Just then, Queen Elizabeth II burst through the door with a lampshade tipped on her head, a champagne glass sloshing gold liquid in her grip, and the flushed stamp of a drunken smile sweeping across her wrinkled and aged face. "Are you done with your –hiccup- luggage, Arthur? Do be getting –hiccup- along; with this speed, you're sure to –hiccup- miss the supposed 'kick-ass' party in –hiccup- the Americas."
Arthur sighed. "Oh dear, Your Majesty, you have drunken too much. Perhaps you should lie down." He offered the Queen his hand to lead her to the bed but was immediately slapped away in wavered manner. The Queen then proceeded to inform her nation of the importance of enjoying one's self, especially at a party. "Don't be such a Pansy while you're there either. Get on and tell that Alfred fellow how much you'd love to practice hanky panky and cover his whole –hiccup- body in love bites."
Arthur's jaw created a loud "thud" as it hit the ground beneath his feet.
The Queen smiled through her bender-caused vision, "Don't look at me as if I'm off my trolley; I always had a notion of your being a bit of a Nancy boy." She laughed then as Arthur dipped his head in shame and set her hand on his shoulder. "Keep your pecker up, old chap. I still love you and I'm sure the other nations will respect you for what you are."
Arthur forced a grin, too blurred by the Queen's arsed judgment to be noticed as such, and sent her to her royal chambers for a well needed sobering nap. However, as soon as he had her under the covers, she chunked her glass at his head and firmly warned him to get his blimey arse to the airport and have fun in the Americas, threatening to make his bum the new placement for the royal jewels and use the leg of her throne to smash his own "royal jewels" if a good time factor was not met. A bit harsh, yes, but it sure as fire set Arthur to chivvying along.
OoO
On the plane to the Americas, Arthur was left with much time to think upon himself as his magical friends were chatting amongst each other. Hook giggling and googling his eyes at his tiny and beautiful frenemy Tinkerbelle, and Flying Mint Bunny debating with Uni about who will win the bet made between Hungary and Japan on… something Arthur can't quite place…
He began to think about Her Majesty's words; his heart sank as he thought and feared of the possible rejection he would face. He still didn't know how Alfred felt and was afraid of what might happen again…
He thought of the first time Alfred pushed him away; the day his demand punched a gaping hole in England's heart…
The deep blue iris' filled with disappointment that match his last shameful plea…
Arthur looked out the window and into the passing white sky and the ocean below as he wished for a jagged sea cliff…
OoO
Narrator: I sure hope mister Britain doesn't fly away from his punk phase so quickly and into an emo/suicidal phase. That trend is four years ago!
Looks like there's some drama brewing in this pot and seems someone has added a huge ingredient of homosexual angst! I wonder what Hungary and Japan are betting on. Stay tuned for the next chapter and totally bug this darned writer to hurry up and feed your fantasies.
Quickly now! I hear she's a bit of a dunce… *whisper* She's American!
END CHAPTER 1