Little bit of fun. Enjoy!
I do not own Hetalia!
What Happens In Vegas
Britain's head felt like it was going to explode as he lay in the bed and his mouth felt like there was a party in there and everyone was throwing up. He pulled the blanket from over his head, only to pull it back up when the light hit his eyelids and his head screamed in pain. He groaned.
"Oh, why won't the light just shut up?"
He inched the blanket down slowly as he adjusted to the light and that was before he even opened his eyes. He shut them almost immediately and squeezed them tight as the contents of his stomach threatened to part company with extreme prejudice. He swallowed hard and, when he felt ready, opened his eyes again.
The room he saw looked like a hotel room and then he remembered. It was the World Meeting in Las Vegas and he had gone drinking with several other nations. He did not remember much after the first hour and a half.
Gingerly, he sat up, closing his eyes and groaning, dropping his head into his hands.
"What was I drinking last night?" he moaned. He opened his eyes and looked down at himself. Then he took another look.
He was wearing a T-shirt with the Stars and Stripes on the front. Where did he get this piece of Americanism? This was something America would …...
He looked around the room again and spotted the leather bomber jacket with the big 50 on it, thrown over a chair, realising that this was America's hotel room. Why would he be in America's room? He ran his hands through his hair and dislodged something that fell onto the pillow. He turned, picked it up and examined it.
Why did he have Texas on his head?
He realised that there was a lump next to him when it moved and groaned, a familiar voice coming from under the blanket.
"Oh man!" said America's voice. "I must've had one hell of a party last night! I feel like I've been eating Britain's cooking." Britain stared down at the lump, offended.
The blanket was pulled down and Nantucket appeared, followed by the rest of America's golden head, his blue eyes bleary and out of focus. He sat up, the blanket falling from his bare chest and looked round. He spotted Britain and tried to focus on his face. Britain put Texas on his nose and America was able to see clearly.
"Britain," he said in surprise. "Whatcha doing here, dude?"
"It's 'what are you' not 'whatcha', git," Britain said, tersely at the English language being butchered. "And I don't know! I don't remember much after the first hour or so in the bar."
They looked at each other and then lifted the blanket and looked down. Britain realised he was not wearing underwear and America realised he was not wearing anything.
They stared back at each other, each thinking the same thing.
"We didn't, did we?" America went pale.
"I don't remember," Britain replied with a hint of panic. Britain and America continued to stare at each other. America's head dropped to his hands as he groaned. Britain propped his elbow on the bedside table and facepalmed. Then he spotted the document.
He picked it up and read it, going as white as a sheet as he took in the contents. America looked up.
"What's that?" he asked. Britain handed it to him, with a stunned expression. America read the paper.
"Marriage licence!" America blurted and shook his head. "No way this happened, dude! No way!" Britain groaned.
"How could this possibly get any worse?" he declared while America stared at the licence with both of their human names on it as if he could make it disappear by force of will.
"There's another name here," he said, staring at the paper.
"Witness?" Britain asked. America shook his head.
"Another groom," he replied. Britain frowned.
"That's not even legal!" he exclaimed. "What's the name?" America peered at the name and looked like he was going to faint.
"No!" America gasped. "Oh no! Oh Hell, no!"
The blanket between them moved and another head rose above the sheets. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, stubbly beard.
"Oh," France said, sheepishly. "Bonjour!"
The screams of Britain and America could be heard in London and New York!
Awkward!
Hasta la Pasta!