If you asked Kiku, he wouldn't call it a honeymoon.

If you asked Alfred, he would definitely call it a honeymoon "and then some".

Nations could not technically get married, but after having gold bands on their fingers for so many years, they might as well have been married.

Which is then, Alfred realized, that they hadn't had a proper "honeymoon" after being "married" for so long. Kiku couldn't bring himself to argue - even if he didn't necessarily agree with the title of their week long outing to Kyoto, Japan.

(Not that Kiku would remember some of it - the interesting bits - and that is where we must discuss the "and then some" aspect of Alfred's statement).

Let it be known that Kiku Honda could not hold his liquor very well. At all. Not in the slightest. It was as if one drop of sake made his knees give out and cheeks flush.

(That is an exaggeration from Alfred's perspective, but he has good reason to think so).

Alfred knows about the asian's weakness when given alcohol, and knows very well how to respond and manage an intoxicated Kiku Honda, but it would just so happen that, quite miraculously, the blonde might have had too much to drink himself. It is miraculous because he is known for handling his liquor well, something that surprises many others (mainly a grumpy, scruffy haired blonde).

Which is how they find themselves in their current position: almost naked but not quite there because neither of them can stop giggling over fumbling fingers and sake-induced hiccups.

Kiku is halfway through unbuttoning Alfred's dress shirt, cold hands brushing over warm skin as he sits on his lap on the bed of their hotel room. The blonde shivers, laughs in a way that makes Kiku's chest warm. "You've been - you've been trying to get this off for hours."

"I have not," he tries to sound earnest because in the back of his mind he knows that Alfred's exaggerating, but then he's too absorbed in the alcohol and stupid buttons keeping him from seeing his husband shirtless (is Alfred really his husband? When was the wedding reception?). The last button is almost torn off, but he manages to remove it as civilly as one could while heavily intoxicated. He pushes the fabric off of his shoulders, down his arms. "See? It's off."

Those same cold hands find themselves on broad shoulders, running across the faint freckles there. Alfred finds this funny, for some reason. "You've seen them before."

"Seen what?"

"My freckles."

"Oh." Kiku blinks - almost sleepily - and smiles. Alfred thinks he looks like a dope. But that's his dope, isn't it? "I think they're cute. Like the rest of you. You're cute. Have I told you that before?"

"I think so. Yes, you definitely have. I remember." Kiku's shirt was removed long ago, and his flush reaches down to his collarbones. A kiss is pressed to the dip in between them. "You're hot, though. Like, really hot. But you know that."

Kiku laughs at that, leans against the other's shoulder as the button to his jeans is undone, the zipper pulled down. "You tell me that all the time. I actually started believing it. I am hot."

His jeans are finally off of his body and it's as if he can finally breathe and the first thing he does is roll his hips against Alfred's. He may be drunk, but he knows how to turn Alfred on in any state of mind.

Alfred bites his lip, swallowing a mixture of a moan and another giggle. "That was hot."

"I know." He manages to undo the button and zipper to his jeans, inwardly proud that he didn't need to even look down. He laughs at this. "Can you get the lube already? I'm tired of waiting. After it took me so long to get your shirt off."

With a request like that, how could he deny him?

Somewhere during that evening, they fall asleep against each other, panting and well spent. The next morning will be met with an unforgiving hangover and hazy memories, but the marks on their necks will be evidence enough as to what happened.

Alfred will laugh, despite it worsening the pounding in his head, and pull Kiku in for a kiss before they leave their hotel for breakfast.