A/N: I own nothing -w-


Chapter 3. Pruk

"Kesese! Eyebrows, you're a riot!"

Said 'eyebrows' was dead-drunk, and just about naked save for an apron covering his most vital regions. Currently, he was spinning and dancing around a pole like a professional.

The night had started out innocently. Well, at least more innocent than it was now. Arthur, along with Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio, were getting a few drinks. The Englishman had not been happy, at least not until he'd had a couple beers. One thing led to another and Antonio and Arthur had made a bet to see who would have to pole-dance.

And it wasn't Spain's ass being flashed every other second.

So while Francis was off flirting with whatever girl he could find, sending the occasional supportive whistle in Arthur's direction, and Antonio practically drowning in tomato wine, Gilbert's eyes were locked on the Brit's movements.

He acted as if he knew the pole better than he did a cup of tea. The way his hips swung, the way he grasped the pole in his hands, hell, the Brit's facial expressions were enough to keep Gilbert mesmerised.

Along with half of the other attendees of the bar.

Gilbert drifted into his own thoughts, many of vivid scenarios of how he could get the Brit into his pants. Because, damn. He was hot. It made Gil's pants tight just watching him.

A disappointed groan erupting from the audience that had formed caught Gilbert's attention and he looked back up to where Arthur was.

Or, had been. Now he was passed out on the floor, pretty much ending the show.

Gilbert turned to see Francis with two women on his arm. "Mon ami, would you mind taking Angleterre home? I'm, ah, busy now, and I would prefer that no one suspicious took him home..."

The albino raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to note the Frenchman's own sketchiness. He did care for Arthur, even if it was in a perverted way.

"Well why can't Toni..." His incomplete question was answered when he saw that the Spaniard was nowhere to be found. Probably off somewhere either passed out or on his way to Lovino's house. He had a tendency to do that as of late.

The Prussian went up to Arthur and poked him. No response. "All right, let's get you home." Gil scooped up the passed out drunk in his arms and left the bar after a short nod to Francis, before reaching his car. He put Arthur in the passenger seat and buckled him in before climbing in the driver's seat and starting the car.

After a short, silent drive, Gilbert parked his car in the driveway of Arthur's house. He carried the drunk inside(luckily the key was under the mat) and tucked him into bed upstairs.

The ex-nation ran a hand through his colorless locks and sighed. "You can be a lot of trouble, you know that, Eyebrows...?" He turned to leave, mostly satisfied but also left with a feeling of disappointment.

A tug on his retreating jacket stopped him. The drunk Englishman had a lustful, or perhaps it was just sleepy, look on his face as he tugged on the jacket once more. "Stayy with mee...~" he slurred, smiling at the sound of his words.

Gilbert sighed, a smile stretching his lips, and climbed under the covers of the bed. He wrapped an arm around Arthur's bare waist and pulled him close. In response, the blond gave a hum and snuggles close to him before losing himself to unconsciousness again. Gil sighed and gave a quick kiss to his forehead before going to sleep himself.

Now that the Prussian thought about it, he wouldn't have had it any other way.