A/N: Soooo! I don't know how well this story will go down~ But, hey can't blame a Cookie for trying~! Um. I might continue if people actually enjoy it. Anyway! Enjoy I suppose!
Disclaimer: The only person who owns Hetalia is the one wrote it. If I owned it, things would probably be exactly the same! ^-^
Chapter 1: How it all began:
It started because Germany wanted out, just for a bit. Italy was all hyped up after a day filled with G8 Summit and had passed out. So Germany took his leave.
Now, he was walking down the chilly London street, a blue scarf around his neck making his eyes seem even brighter. Those eyes scanned the little closed down shops and bars, looking for a pub or something. Somewhere that might have good beer.
When he spotted a slightly smaller building, a hole in the wall sorta place, he entered. Taking his leather gloves off and rubbing his cold hands together he made for a barstool.
"What can I do for you sir?" The waiter asked.
"Just a beer. Not light." Germany muttered, leaning on the bar and hoisting himself up on the stool. Not minutes later a new voice inched it's way to Germany's ears.
"You bloody American! Wh-Who do you think you are! Touching the British Empire!" Germany could tell that drunken slur from anywhere. England.
He turned his stool slightly to the left and saw the bushy browed nation in a corner... yelling at no one.
Germany huffed and grabbed his beer, paying the waiter the respected amount, and walked to England's corner booth.
"'Ello Ludwig 'ol chap!" England chuckled.
"Hallo zo you as vell Arzur." Germany huffed. He noted the empty bottles of alcohol covering half the table not even having to guess why England had come.
Hosting the G8 Summits in your country could be quite stressful, this time is was hosted in London.
"Arzur, vould you like me zo valk you back zo your hotel room?" Germany asked, mostly fearful for the well being of the street, and the people on them.
"Ah, bollucks, Bloody hell, I'm sure I can get there my self. But fine. Bloody walk me home!" England grunted, getting up only to sway and bump against the table.
Germany finished off his beer before grabbing at England's arm and steering him out of of the bar. "Let's go Arzur, before you hurt somevone, or yourself."
With England's inability to walk properly, it took almost 20 minutes to get back to the hotel, and 10 minutes to get him into the elevator and up to the room.
"Give me zhe key Arzur." Germany ordered, annoyed and wishing he hadn't offered to walk the brit home. But England simply grunted and dug for to the room, dropping it in Germany's open hand.
After unlocking the door and leading England in, Germany turned to leave.
"Ello! Germany! Hand me that book before you go, git." England said, still slurred and drunk sounding. Germany just grabbed a heavily bound purple book and tossed it on the bed.
"Zhere. Anyzhing else?" Germany muttered, wishing he could just go back to the bar.
"Be a good lad and get me a glass of water?" England asked, sickly sweet.
"Vater? Fine." Germany grabbed a plastic cup and headed to the bathroom to fill it up.
As he filled the cup, he was unaware of England on the other side of the wall, waving a wooden stick around and muttering a slured spell. Just as Germany walked back out, England pointed the stick at Germany and yelled something out.
A veil of purplish smoke wisped around the completely confused German, and all of a sudden... Poof!
England watched in utter awe as the tall, blue eyed German disappeared into thin air, his clothes dropping and pooling onto the carpeted floor.
"Bloody hell..."