[This chapter was uploaded on April 1...]
A/N: Today I am announcing my plans for a 300k-word sequel! More Quidditch! More drinking! More romance! More smut! More! Exclamation! Points! Here is a preview with very insightful author's notes, excellent grammar, and defiantly no typos!
Sometime in the near future in a universe parallel to our own…
Chapter I: The World Cup
When the U.S. team went up against the English team in the quarter finals of the Quidditch World Cup, people bet hard against the Americans. Everyone knew that Americans preferred Quodpot to Quidditch and barely paid attention to the world's favorite sport, so their national Quidditch team was bound to be terrible.
Alfred F. Jones, one of the U.S. team's beaters, was determined to prove the doubters wrong. First, they would be playing in Mexico. As a Texan born and bred, he was used to the heat. The English team would wilt like delicate English flowers in the hot August weather. Second, he had studied his rivals and he could see the path to victory. All he had to do was knock out Arthur Kirkland, the top-rated English seeker. People had warned him that Arthur was a good player, but for some reason they forgot to mention that he was also drop-dead gorgeous.
[Note to self: add lengthy paragraph about what a total dreamboat Arthur is. Needs a reference to "emerald orbs." Possible synonyms: apple green, chartreuse, or shamrock green.]
No wonder the English team did so well! Everyone was too distracted by Arthur's gorgeous eyes, messy hair, and those long legs gripping his broomstick in a provocative manner. Even the thick eyebrows were cute in a frumpled, grumpy sort of way. And instead of melting in the heat, the stupid English seeker sweated and flushed, making him look even more attractive.
It wasn't until a bludger hit Alfred in the shin, leaving a bruise that would last for days, that he remembered he was supposed to be dodging, not drooling over the other team's seeker.
"You okay there, Al?" the other beater asked.
"Yeah!" Alfred refocused on the game and his target. He spotted a bludger coming towards him, perfect for aiming, and shot it directly at Arthur. Their gazes caught across the field, and even though Arthur had time to dodge, he just gaped for a critical second before the bludger hit him directly in the head. He dropped like a stone to the ground, but the referees were prepared for these types of accidents and caught him with a spell before he went splat.
Alfred breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he was holding as he watched the medi-wizards carry Arthur away on a seeker. He felt a touch of guilt, unsure why Arthur had kept staring at him instead of dodging. Then he shook his head and went back to the game as the English team fielded their alternate seeker.
Seventeen goals, five fouls, and three bruises to his arms and legs later, the Americans won. If Alfred had been betting on the game (which, unfortunately, was against the rules), he would have won a pretty penny.
[Or maybe a pretty peso? Hmmm…]
He celebrated his victory with his teammates and a shot of tequila.
When he went back to get another shot, he was shocked to find a mop of messy hair (and its disgruntled owner) sulking at the bar. Arthur turned to glare at him with icy emerald eyes, and Alfred winced when he saw that dark bruise covering half of Arthur's face.
"Hey, man, I'm really sorry about the bruise," Alfred apologized, taking the stool next to Arthur. "Can I buy you a drink to make it better?"
"It's going to take more than one drink to make me forget my ignominious defeat."
Alfred scrunched his nose in confusion. "Iggy-what now?"
"Never mind. Make it three drinks and we'll call it even."
"Done!" Alfred handed the bartender some bills. "Tres tragos de tequila, por favor."
"You speak Spanish?" Arthur stopped glaring and arched an eyebrow.
"Enough to cross the border and order alcohol after I turned 18."
That actually drew a chuckle from the Brit, so Alfred decided he was doing fairly well in the flirting department, even though he hadn't intentionally been flirting up until that point. It must have been his good looks and natural charm. Arthur knocked back the first shot when it arrived. He didn't sputter, so Alfred knew he was dealing with a serious drinker. The night suddenly looked a lot more interesting. Alfred flagged down the bartender and ordered another shot for himself. He wasn't going to let some skinny Seeker beat him (a beefy Beater!) at drinking.
Several shots later they were grinding on the dance floor. Alfred felt pleasantly dizzy as he rocked to the beat. Arthur had lost some of his balance and grace, but he still moved with a raw energy that felt more intoxicating to Alfred than alcohol. He felt like he could get drunk on the feeling of Arthur's slim hips.
[Need another paragraph about sexy dancing that dances on the edge of the M-rating. Gosh, I hope no one is actually reading this story for the Quidditch games.]
Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's neck and looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Let's go… let's go somewhere," he breathed into Alfred's ear.
"Yeah..." Alfred didn't need any more convincing. He wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist and stumbled along with the other man as they pushed their way off of the dance floor. Alfred took a deep breath as they stepped out into the cooler night air, helping clear his head a little. "Your place or mine?" he asked.
Instead of replying, Arthur stumbled away and retched into a bush.
[Psyche! I'm doing a realistic drunk scene. Normally I just skip the puking stuff.]
"…or maybe not," Alfred finished. Some dim part of him recognized that the vomiting was probably his fault since he had paid for the tequila. Feeling guilty for both the booze and the bruise, he held the wasted Englishman steady while the poor guy emptied his stomach into the shrubbery. After Arthur finished heaving, he helped him back to his feet.
The Brit stared at Alfred for a second and jabbed his chest with a wobbly finger. "You!"
"Okay, man, sorry about the drinks. I thought you could handle it." Alfred wasn't that sorry. The sweaty grinding had been amazing, well worth the price of an angry drunk afterward. He would have offered to buy more drinks to make up for it, but even his alcohol-soaked brain could tell that wasn't the best plan.
Despite the half-hearted apology, Arthur kept glaring. His eyebrows gave him a very intense scowl. "I got smacked by a bludger cuz of you!" he complained.
"What? That's just part of the game."
"It's your fault!"
"How's that my fault?"
"You dinnit 'ave to look so goddamn fit!"
America gaped in surprise. "What!?"
"Bloody bludger came out of nowhere.
"You think I'm attractive?"
"It was just blue eyes and then BAM."
"Focus, Arthur!" Alfred gripped Arthur by the shoulders. "Am I or am I not attractive?"
"Oh yes, I'll 'ave two please," Arthur mumbled as his knees went wobbly and he sprawled across Alfred's chest. He smelled like sweat and tequila. But in a good way. He seemed to have moved past the angry-drunk stage, which was a good thing, except now he looked a bit pale and sick and Alfred was the one holding him upright, so that probably made Alfred responsible for taking him to the medi-wizards.
"No, no more tequila for you," Alfred complained as he hefted the Brit over his shoulder and carried him to the infirmary near the stadium. He could have used a spell to levitate Arthur through the air, but he wanted to show off his impressive muscles and he kind of liked the feeling of the Englishman's nice legs pressed against his body (obviously he had to hold Arthur in place by wrapping his arm just under Arthur's nice butt). Seekers were usually skinny and light to help them move quickly across the field, and Arthur was no exception.
"We're going the wrong way," Arthur protested. "The road to El Dorado is portside!"
[Note to self: USUK Road to El Dorado. Just sayin']
Once Alfred reached the infirmary, the on-duty nurse was kind enough to take a look at Arthur, including an appreciative look at the Englishman's legs while Alfred poured him into a cot. Alfred was pretty sure there wasn't anything wrong with Arthur's legs, but he couldn't blame her for visually drinking up her fill.
"Been drinking and fighting, haven't we?" she asked, applying some cream to Arthur's bruise.
"No, ma'am, just drinking. He got the bruise from a bludger."
"Oh, I see. Well, give him plenty of water and have him take these in the morning," she walked over to the medicine cabinet, pulled out a strange jar of things, and handed Alfred two hairy pellets that looked like something a goat pooped out.
They both heard a loud thump and turned over to see that Arthur had fallen off the cot and onto the floor. He started giggling and petting the air around him. "Oh, sugarbell, that tickles!"
[You know what they say, One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, FLOOR~!]
The nurse looked worried. "Are you sure he wasn't drinking a hallucination elixir?"
Alfred suddenly shared her concerns. "I don't think so?"
"Pink nurses outfits," Arthur added, giggling happily to himself. He rolled his head over to look at Alfred and let his eyes drop from Alfred's head to his toes. He hummed in appreciation as he practically ravished Alfred with his eyes. "Hello, teddy bear."
"Man, what do they put in those worms?" Alfred asked as he pulled Arthur to his feet. But he suddenly didn't mind the thought of drunk-sitting Arthur for the night. He liked the look Arthur had given him and it certainly wouldn't hurt to mention some of the more exciting ways to help someone get over a hangover. They stumbled their way back to Alfred's tent and Alfred was glad that the silencing charm on the tent walls meant that their noises wouldn't bother anyone else. (Though Alfred had expected the noises to be something other than a drunk singing loudly.)
When Arthur ran out of songs, they snuggled together on the cot and passed Alfred's endless decanter of water back and forth as they whispered secrets long into the night.
In the morning, Alfred decided that his dry mouth and throbbing headache didn't seem so bad as he gazed down at the gorgeous blond curled up against his chest. He carded his fingers through Arthur's soft, messy hair and tried to ignore the angry bruise on Arthur's face. Arthur looked so peaceful in his sleep.
That all changed when the Neo Death Eaters attacked.
[I'm sorry, were you expecting the Spanish Inquisition?]
Arthur's eyes flew open and he gasped in pain at the sudden explosion of shouts and bright spells. "Shut up you bloody bastards!" he croaked as he tumbled out of the cot, grabbed his wand, and stumbled out of the tent.
"Wait!" Alfred called, grabbing his wand from his jacket pocket. He dashed out of the tent to find Arthur cursing left and right. Arthur cussed out a group of wizards wearing black hoods and snake masks as he shot jinxes and hexes in their direction. The wizards fell like flies, proving that hell hath no fury like someone with a really bad hangover.
[Eat your heart out, Shakespeare!]
Alfred added a few jinxes of his own, but Arthur clearly didn't need the help. Neo Death Eaters were pathetic. Usually they just organized pointless marches with signs like "Pureblood Pride" and "Voldy Lives." Their attack sputtered out in a manner of minutes.
"And you! Stop being so bright!" Arthur shouted and scowled, trying to jinx the sun after he finished with the group of Death Eaters.
"Hey, why don't you come back into the tent and lie down?" Alfred suggested, trying to grab Arthur's wand so that he would stop trying to turn off Earth's only source of heat and light. Wizards didn't take many science classes, but Alfred was pretty sure that they needed the sun to live.
Arthur stopped for a second. He squinted at Alfred, frowned, and then punched the American in the face, the force of his fist knocking the larger man back a few steps. "Now we're even!" Arthur growled as he turned on his heel and stalked away.
And that was how Alfred fell in love.
Author's Notes
I was so excited I just had to post this TODAY and share it with you TODAY...
Thank you to everyone for your faves, follows, and reviews! I hope that the past five months have been as much fun for you as they were for me. Every notification made me smile and gave me another reason to keep writing. Thank you to Fire Bear1 for beta-ing this story with your reviews. It's much better and mostly typo-free because of you. Thank you to elizabeta H. Austria, Ember Hinote, EverydayUSUK, Iggy Butt, and octopus for reviewing basically every chapter. There is a special place in fanfic heaven for reviewers who review lots of chapters of a multi-chapter fic :)
And thank you to HaPPy2901, Calexy, ArtieluvzAl, purecarnation, CrossoverCourt, Ghosty Starr, A pirates life for Bunny, Byakusharinnegan, Lady Queria, Silent Black Kitten, USUKFangirl4690, LillyVain, Loeily, Thefreakoutsideyourwindow, Maelstrom Alert, GlassCase, Kyle, Annzy Bananzy, HiMyNameIsMeep, SukiWilliams, Raven Ella Black, Sadiescooby11, Jill92, EveningBlack, Fred and George Weasley Twins, Dolly-Doll-Face, clowcard123, blulious, FanGirlOfThe21st, FORDGE, crashing-avalanches, anikidazo, dozefallsdownthestairs, Wonderwoman132, Dearest Destiny, CharlRhodes, CieloFiamme, QuinnStormTwilight, Bob, kiiroiyuuri, imagenationFOREVER1, otakumaku18, Le Guest Person, Minute Mace, Cras, 01blackcat02, ShadowNightRose18, ItalianCrybaby, and lots of guests! (I hope I didn't miss anyone.)
Anyway, Happy April Fool's Day! The thanks are genuine, the sequel is not ;)