Note: In America, the drinking age is 21. I know. We're crazy.

Arthur Kirkland was a regular at the Hetalia Bar. He was well known for being a heavy drinker, a fairly good karaoke singer, and and hell of a good time.

He was sometimes accompanied by a whore of a Frenchman and his other Europeans that liked to call themselves the bad touch trio. They were quite the life of the party.

Arthur Kirkland was only twenty, but the hell with it, he knew where to get a fake ID. Besides, he probably supplied the bar with half of their profits and the stupid Americans couldn't refuse him now.

Arthur tapped the bar table, smiling to the pretty bartender. He was wearing his usual clothing. Dark, tight jeans and a ripped shirt with the union jack on it. He had a few ear piercings (and a small stud in his nose.)

He was all-out punk tonight, and he felt sexy. (He had every right to he was fucking hot. You should have been there, man.)

Then there was Alfred F. Jones.

He wasn't sexy in the sense Arthur was, but he wasn't lacking either. It was only his third night out on the town. He just got a fake ID, being only eighteen years old. He was with his friend and brother, who were named Matthew and Toris. Alfred was ready to party.

And how can you party without being drunk?

"Hey, I'll have bud." He told the bartender. The man next to him snorted. Alfred looked down his nose to see a punk-looking guy. He had really big green eyes that looked even bigger with the addition of black eyeliner. He was punk. Alfred didn't have anything against punk music, but this guy was kinda weird.

...and really, really hot.

"What?" He asked, trying to keep up a facade of disinterest.

"Budweiser? Really? It's your first drink of the night! Start out with something fun! Like...vodka. Or coke and rum minus the coke. Something stronger."

Alfred wrinkled his nose and sat down on the stool next to the stranger. "Oh yeah? Who're you to tell me what to do?"

The man laughed, throwing back his spiked hair. "I'm Arthur Kirkland, that's who! And you better appreciate yourself because I just picked you to entertain for the evening."

Alfred didn't really know what was going on. But considering the looks that a few girls were throwing his way he figured Arthur was pretty well-known and on-demand. So he threw caution to the wind and smiled. "Lucky pick."

Arthur laughed and played along. "Oh? Very well. Have you ever heard of jell-o shots?"

It was a good hour and Alfred was so wasted he could barely stand. He was still with Arthur, and he was really starting to like him. He was fun. They sang a few songs together and Arthur had a really good voice. Too bad Alfred was so wasted he couldn't see the lyrics on the screen. Then, as the night grew darker, the music turned faster and the lights grew dimmer. Arthur pulled Alfred onto the dance floor and holy shit.

Arthur could move. Alfred didn't even think it was possible to be so...wiggly. Arthur was grinding him and oh god it felt so good. He was getting hot just looking at him move, it was amazing Alfred could even stand there with the way Arthur was moving. He clung onto his hips and tried to do his best, but he was pretty sure he was just trying not to hump his brains out or something.

Then came his favorite part.

Arthur led him outside and tugged him into an alley. Alfred wasn't concerned with Matthew or Toris or the fact that the alley could have ghosts lurking everywhere. Nope, he just wanted Arthur to keep moving against him because he was so hot and his jeans were getting tight.

Arthur, along with being a fantastic dancer, was a mind-blowing kisser. His tongue was sliding over Alfred's and Alfred couldn't stop moaning, especially when Arthur's hand moved below the belt.

"Come back to my flat with me?" Arthur breathed into his ear, eyes half-lidded.

Alfred couldn't agree fast enough.

The ride there was way too long. Arthur was driving, but for all his talents in the bar he was a horrible driver. Probably because he was English and used to the other side of the road or maybe because Alfred kept rubbing his hips and arms.

Either one.

When they finally got to the apartment Alfred pinned Arthur to a wall and ravaged him. Arthur barely had time to kick the door closed before they stripped off their clothes and fell on the bed.

Alfred was engulfed in pure pleasure.

America! Fuck Yeah! Coming to save the mother fucking day yeah, America!

Alfred never thought he would say this, but his ring tone was annoying as hell. He looked around the room. Oh shit.

He wasn't in his house. He was in Arthur's apartment.

Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. The guy who just had amazing sex with last night. Well, that explained the hangover. The horrid hangover at that. Oh god, he could see noises.

Alfred leaned over the bed and fumbled through his discarded pants (he was butt-ass naked currently) and quickly turned off his phone.

The noise stopped, and Alfred breathed again. He fell back into the pillows, when he realized.

He was still in Arthur's apartment.

Fuck.

He was about to freak out. One night stands never happened to him. He liked relationships. He liked being able to know they person you were having sex with.

Speaking of that person, he was moaning now. It was that way-too-early-please-just-five-more-minutes groan that signified waking. Alfred's heart began to speed up as he watched the blonde. He still looked good.

That eyeliner he had been wearing smeared off, but Alfred thought his eyes looked better without it. His hair wasn't spiked. In fact, it was really messy. But that was adorable, especially when Arthur's eyes blinked open inches away from his own. Alfred could tell Arthur was hung-over. He stared around groggily before his eyes widened. "What are you still doing here?" He shouted.

Alfred winced. Loud noises were not his friend today. "I just...I guess I didn't want to leave."

Arthur sat up and started getting out of the bed. "W-well, leave already!" Arthur stood up, but immediately winced and stopped moving.

Yeah, he might have bottomed, and apparently awesome sex had a price.

"Hey, are you okay? Arthur, lay back down. I'll get out of the bed if it makes you more comfortable. I'm sorry, it's my fault just lay back down."

Now Alfred was out of the bed, looking for his boxers. Oh—there they are. He pulled them on and turned back to Arthur, pushing him back into the bed. Arthur complained a bit but didn't put up much of a struggle, so Alfred managed to get him back under the covers. Alfred was tugging on his jeans when he asked "Do you want water or anything? Asprin?"

Arthur looked so small in that comforter.

Alfred looked around the flat, and he didn't see what he had expected to. He didn't see guitars and cd's. He saw bookshelves and a really old computer. Pictures of London were hung up around the room. It was...homey.

"Why are you still here? Don't you know how these things work? You leave, and we never see each other again."

Alfred felt his heart give an awful stutter at that. Never see Arthur again? But...no!

"But I want to see you again, Artie!"

Arthur spluttered. "Artie?" He repeated.

"Yeah! Please, dude? I know...I mean I guess you're not really into long term relationships but will you at least go on a date with me?"

Arthur blushed. His mouth moved as if to say something, but nothing came out. Then he looked down at the sheets. "It's not that I don't like relationships. It's just that...well, no one had ever offered me a second date..."

Alfred almost tripped. What? Do they not realize how awesome Arthur is? Well, hes glad they didn't because now he was all his!

"Well, then how about tonight at six? We can go out to eat. We don't even have to have sex after. Unless, y'know, you want to."

Arthur looked up. He smiled. "Alright, we'll see."

Alfred was so happy he felt like laughing.