I was going to put this up as a separate story but then I thought I put this on Britain's Morning After. This actually happened to someone I know, quite a long time ago before Health and Safety were so strictly enforced. Don't try this at home, kids! ;P

Tattoo Hullabaloo

Arthur Kirkland AKA Britain did not often drink with his older brother, Allistor Kirkland AKA Scotland because, when he did, nine times out of ten, something usually went disastrously wrong but, at first as Arthur woke up after spending the day and night with his big brother, aside from the inevitable hangover, nothing untoward seemed to have happened this time. Of course, he had very little memory of the day before, although he had a vague memory of Allistor passing out on his sofa, so he was not going to speak too soon.

Groaning, he rose from his bed, still in his clothes from the day before, holding his head with one hand, trying to stop his brain from spilling out and his other hand on his stomach in the hopes of keeping what his stomach contained, in. He staggered to the bathroom, staring into the bathroom mirror at his paler than usual face with bags under his dulled green eyes, almost as big as the eyebrows above them, almost hidden by his blonde hair. He was looking a little green around the gills and then the contents of his stomach would no longer be denied and he dashed for the toilet.

After giving his offering to the Great Porcelain God, Arthur flushed the toilet and got back to his feet, moaning. Why, oh why did he do this to himself? He liked a drink but he was a lightweight drinker and he always paid for it next day.

He decided to have a shower and hoped it would help him feel better or, at least cleaner and he began to strip. His shirt fell to the floor and he began to remove his trousers and underwear when he felt the waistband of his underpants rub against something on his lower back. He looked and he could just see some medical wadding taped to his lower back on the right hand side.

What the hell is that? Arthur wandered back to his room where there was a full length mirror and he would be able to see exactly what was under the wadding. He gingerly peeled the tape away from his skin and removed the wadding.

What he saw made him scream!


Allistor was all limbs, flung about every which way on the sofa in his little brother's living room as he snored away the day before as if his body knew what it would be facing when he woke up and was delaying that moment for as long as possible but the alcohol induced snooze was rudely interrupted when...

"ALLISTOR, YOU WANKER! WHAT IN THE ACTUAL HOLY BLOODLY HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO ME THIS TIME?!"

Allistor came to with a startled jerk that sent him crashing from the sofa to the floor where he stayed for a moment, groaning, more from his hangover than actually hitting the ground. What was the wee bugger's problem this time? Allistor could not think of anything he had done recently that warranted that kind of verbal abuse from his …...

Then the events of the day before slammed their way back into Allistor's head. He had gone out for lunch with his little brother and had a few too many drinks, dragging Arthur home while neither one was entirely sober, Arthur more drunk than he, when they passed a …...

Oh shit!

The red-headed Scottish Nation staggered to his feet and trudged wearily up the stairs to his brother's bedroom and went in to find his brother with his back to the mirror, looking at the red raw tattoo just above his right buttock, of a heart with a waving Union Flag and Star-Spangled Banner on either side. As Arthur turned to glare at him, Allistor realised that the tattoo was not even the worst of it.


The day before …..

Arthur had been in a better mood of late, not that you could tell if you did not know how to read him but Allistor, who was a bigger tsundere than his little brother, could read Arthur like a book and Allistor knew that the change was down to Arthur finally kicking the flamboyant, but philandering, Francis Bonnefoy AKA France to the curb and confronting his true feelings for the energetic, child-like, sometimes annoying but could-only-be-more-faithful-than-Francis, Alfred F Jones AKA the United States of America.

Arthur's relationship with Francis could only be described as on-off and it had been going on for centuries, with them getting together but Francis's roving eye always spoilt things. His excuse was he was the Country of Love and he could not help but spread it but Allistor believed that Francis was just allergic to fidelity but Arthur always took him back after a few years had passed, despite Allistor warning him that the French Nation would do it to him again and he felt like he was beating his head against a brick wall until a few weeks ago.

Arthur caught France putting the moves on Matthew Williams AKA Canada at the last World Meeting, not that Matthew was receptive, he knew that Francis was seeing Arthur but Francis did not let the fact that he was supposed to be in a relationship interfere in his pursuit of the Canadian Nation. That is, until they were caught by Arthur, just as Alfred walked in, slurping a soda.

"AGAIN!" Arthur yelled, his eyes filling up at this latest betrayal. "You can't be faithful for five minutes, can you! Well, I've had it! We're through and I mean it this time, you wanker!" Alfred's teeth clenched. Francis had hurt Arthur again! Did he not realise just how lucky he was to have someone like Arthur for his boyfriend when so many would kill to have the Brit by their side? Alfred had loved Arthur for so long now and would jump at the opportunity to be his lover but the hot-cold, yes-no relationship had gotten in his way once too often and he was going to seize his chance while he could and prove to Arthur that he would always treat him better than the Frenchman.

Arthur was storming away with Francis chasing after him, pleading his case.

"Non, Angleterre, please!" he begged. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have responded but Canada was throwing himself at me!" The lie did not go down well. Matthew gave a gasp of shock at the untrue accusation, Alfred gave a growl of anger at his brother being maligned and Arthur gave a snort of disbelief at the idea that Matthew would do such a thing when it was Francis with the track record. Then Matthew did something no one expected. He grabbed Alfred's soda and tipped it over Francis's head who gave a girly cry of dismay at the destruction of his beautiful hair and ran off to hide himself.

Arthur ran in the other direction to find somewhere to cry out his pain. Alfred turned to his brother and gave him a thumbs up.

"Good move, bro," he said. "I'm proud of you." Then he followed Arthur.


Alfred found him outside in the gardens, in an out-of-the-way corner, sobbing and Alfred's heart broke for him. Arthur would always weep in private as he did not like people to see him like that and Alfred wanted to find Francis beat him to a bloody pulp for doing this to his beloved Arthur.

"Iggy, dude!" he called out. Arthur rubbed his eyes clear of tears and looked up but he eyes were still red-rimmed. "You okay?" Alfred winced inwardly at the inane question. Of course Arthur was not okay, not that he would admit it, of course.

"I'm fine," Arthur replied, right on cue but Alfred was not fooled. He was not as oblivious to the atmosphere as everyone thought he was and right now he could hear the hurt and betrayal in the Brit's voice. "And it's England, not Iggy!" Well, at least the tsundere-ness was intact.

"Dude, why do you keep going back to him?" Alfred asked. "You know he'll never change, right?" Arthur pondered the question. Why did he keep going back? Why did he always do it to himself? The truth was, Arthur was lonely and just wanted to feel loved and, while what Francis offered was only an illusion, it was better than nothing but the problem was that the illusionary bubble would burst under the slightest pressure and Arthur was always the one who ended up hurt.

What Arthur wanted more than anything was for this country before him to feel something for him. Arthur had always loved Alfred and even during the Revolutionary War, that feeling had never gone away which was why he had been unable to shoot when he had Alfred right where he wanted him but after the dissolution of their brotherhood and the time they spent apart, when they came back together, Arthur's feelings had undergone a change. They were less brotherly and Arthur felt more romantic toward the handsome, blonde-haired, blue-eyed nation. From the tip of Nantucket, right down to the tips of his toes, Arthur was lost in love with every part of Alfred.

But Arthur could get no sense that Alfred felt the same and he would not approach the American Nation for fear of being rejected and covered the pain of unrequited love with the false notion that Francis offered deep and meaningful commitment, only to feel the pain of the betrayed and jilted.

"I just wanted to know that someone, anyone cared," he admitted, his feelings too raw to cover up. "That I was loved." Alfred's jaw dropped. This was how Arthur felt? That he was this lonely? And everybody thought that Alfred was clueless.

"Dude, you have no idea!" he replied. "You have so many people who care about you but you just don't see it. Your bros may have a funny way of showing it and they might never say but, dude, you're the most important person in the world to them, even when you're fighting with each other. Matthew cares about you too and what about your Magic Trio Friends, Norway and Romania? They could have been your rivals but instead they chose to be your friends. More people care about you that you realise, Iggy." Alfred stepped forward, wrapping his left arm around Arthur's waist and pulled Arthur against him, his right hand tilting Arthur's head up.

"And you are loved," Alfred whispered, huskily before lowering his lips to brush Arthur's before going in for a firmer kiss.

Arthur was surprised at Alfred's actions at first. Alfred loved him! ALFRED LOVED HIM! His every dream had just come true and he wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck to make sure he did not move from that spot and he realised that his days of illusionary affection were over. It was the real thing for him from now on.


"You know," Allistor said to his brother as they sat in the pub, three weeks later. "You're quite nauseating when you're in love but at least you're not with someone you know is going to break your heart." He swirled his whiskey around his glass before knocking it back and nodded to the landlord for another shot. Ahhhh! You could not beat a good Scottish whiskey and you could find it almost anywhere, even in an English pub. They had met for lunch and went to the pub afterwards.

"If only I'd known how Alfred felt a long time ago," Arthur replied, taking a sip of his ale. "All that time I wasted with Francis when I could have been with someone who really did love me! Still, Alfred's all mine now."

"I'm very happy for you," Allistor drawled. In truth, he was happy for Arthur. He knew his brother had not had much happiness in his life and Allistor knew he was part of that, being hard on Arthur in his younger years to toughen up the little Nation and he wondered if maybe he had gone a little too far sometimes. Allistor could only remember Arthur being truly happy when he first found Alfred. Now, Alfred was making Arthur happy again and Allistor wished the both of them the best of luck as he tossed back his next whiskey shot.


At three in the afternoon, a drunk Scot and an even drunker Brit were strolling (if staggering could be called strolling) through the streets, back to Arthur's house, with Arthur trying to figure out if he was Catholic or Protestant (not this rubbish again) and then began singing America the Beautiful in Allistor's ear as he thought of his new boyfriend while Allistor tried to drown him out with Scotland the Brave. They staggered around a corner and Arthur pulled them both to a stop in front of a shop façade and above the window were the words The Ink Parlour. Arthur peered through the window at all the tattoo artwork designs adorning the walls. He grabbed Allistor and wrapped his arm around his neck.

"I'm going to prove how much I loved Alfred," he slurred, trying to wave his finger under Allistor's nose and almost poking him in the eye and then he dragged the intoxicated Scot into the tattoo shop.


The tattooist looked up as the door opened and a blonde and a red-headed man staggered in, trying to stay on their feet, both with a glassy look in their eyes. These two are as pissed as farts at three o'clock! They must have started early! he accurately assessed as they wove, side to side, over to his counter.

"What can I do for you gentleman?" he asked. The blonde one looked around and then back at him.

"Two battered cod and chips please," he slurred. The tattooist stared at him.

"This is a tattoo parlour," he replied. "Not a fish and chip shop."

"Then I'd like a tattoo please," the blonde said with a demented grin and a laugh. The tattooist rolled his eyes. Apparently, being drunk did not stop this bloke from being a smart arse and he decided, as he had no customers at the moment that he would give the man what he wanted and if he regretted it when he sobered up ….well, it would teach him not to drink so much so early in the day.

"What kind of tattoo would you like?" he asked. "One of these …." He indicated to the designs on the walls. "...or your own design?"

"I want a heart!" the blonde declared. "And on one side of it, I want the British flag and on the other, the American flag. And in the heart, I want the words Arthur and Aaaargh..." The blonde fell backwards in a drunken heap. The red-head snorted.

"Yer need ta take more water with it, ya wee piss-head," he commented, his Scottish accent fighting with the intoxicated slur. The tattooist did not think that the red-headed Scotsman was far behind the blonde if he was honest.

"You want to get him into the chair," he said and the red head picked up the blonde and dumped him into the chair where the blonde landed face down and began snoring. The tattooist sighed. This was going to be fun.

"Where does he want this tattoo?" he asked. The red head snorted.

"He didn't say," he replied. "Stick it on his arse, I'm not moving him again." The tattooist sighed again and flattened out the chair. After pulling the blonde's trousers down enough to clear an area just above his right butt cheek, the tattooist sterilised the area and got to work.


Allistor fell asleep in one of the waiting chairs while the tattooist worked on Arthur and fell into a satisfying dream of pummelling Francis for all the times he broke Arthur's heart. The dream was rudely interrupted by the tattooist shaking him awake.

"Hey, mate," he said, giving Allistor another shake. "I've almost finished, now what did he wanted in the heart again. Arthur and what?" Allistor rubbed his face and said something without thinking about it. The tattooist nodded and went back to his work while Allistor drifted back to sleep.

When the tattooist finished, he taped medical wadding over the tattoo and went to wake Allistor. The Scottish Nation groaned and stood up, swaying slightly and went to get Arthur. Arthur woke as Allistor pulled him out of the chair.

"Whaa?" he muttered, still fairly out of it.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty," Allistor groaned. "Pay the man and we can get back to your house." He pulled Arthur's arm over his shoulder and dragged Arthur over to pay the tattooist for his work. After dropping his wallet twice, Arthur manage to finally pay the man and Allistor dragged both their still drunk carcasses home. Allistor staggered into the living room and passed out on the sofa while Arthur managed to zombie-walk up the stairs and collapsed on his bed, both sleeping like the dead, unaware that all Hell was going to break loose in the morning.


Arthur could not believe what he was seeing. The fact that he had a tattoo was enough to have him screaming but what the tattoo said …..even backwards in the mirror, he could understand what it said.

"WHAT'S ALFRED GOING TO SAY?!" Arthur screamed. "HOW DO I EXPLAIN IT TO HIM?!" Allistor groaned, vowing never to drink again (Yeah, right!).

Yes, when the tattooist woke Allistor for the second name, Allistor had said the name that was on his mind at the time so the words in the centre of the heart now said...

Arthur and Francis

Arthur had to spend a fortune to get the tattoo removed and it was quite some time before Arthur and Allistor went drinking together again.

Oh dear! XP Fortunately, this couldn't happen any more. At least, not in Britain! You have to make an appointment now for a consultation about what tattoo you want and then another appointment to actually get it done, that is, if you go to a professional tattooist, and I seriously doubt that they would tattoo anyone drunk any more and that's probably just as well ;)

Hasta la Pasta!