The chapter's up. Enjoy!
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England had been hiding in the toilet stall for far too long when he finally heard the door slam closed once.
Oh thank goodness, finally.
The door opened and slammed again.
That must be both of them.
He opened the stall door, only to see the same two girls, one having just returned with another bag of accessories that she was now opening up. Seconds later, the first one spotted him in the mirror.
"Heeey, look!" she shouted, pointing. "It's that hot guy who sang the Beatles song! What are you doing in—"
Mortified, England sprinted for the exit. The second girl laughed something about cute guys getting drunk.
England nearly took the door off its hinges.
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America, meanwhile, had in fact made it into the right restroom. That, however, marked the end of his cognitive successes.
"Friend dude? Are you heeeere?" he called out, staring at the wall.
Nobody answered, though, even though he could have sworn that one guy peeing was the right size. America tapped that guy on the shoulder, making him jump and…well, the golden arc followed the normal laws of physics. Several curses later, America was certain that the peeing guy was not, actually, the one he was looking for. Very certain.
So he started checking under the few stalls. After getting kicked in the face by the guy in the one that was occupied, he decided to forget about finding whoever.
"I don't feel so good…" he mumbled.
The guy who had just finished peeing inched a bit farther away.
America vomited into the nearest receptacle, which happened to be a sink.
"Whoa! Do it in one of the stalls, #$%!" the other guy called, making a beeline for the exit. He reached for the door, only for it to slam open as England walked inside.
"Have you seen a—"
"Fuzzy-eyebrowed #$% who had too much to drink? Yeah, your friend's right over there, singer. You keep the guy under better control if you come back here again." The guy marched past England in a huff.
"You rude little—" England turned around, but the other man had already disappeared into the crowd of bar patrons. He briefly wondered if America got that sort of reaction when England ended up drunk with him. He pushed that thought to the back of his head.
England turned the corner and gagged at the smell. America was hacking and coughing over a sink that looked like it had been vomited into repeatedly.
"Oh, great," England sarcastically muttered. "You look pathetic, by the way."
He quickly regretted the second sentence. It was impossible to insult the moron without a really annoying part of him making uncomfortable comparisons.
The guy who had been in the stall emerged, took one look around, and decided to forego washing his hands. America's head tilted in the direction of the movement.
"Canaaadiaaaa?" he said hopefully, before turning back to the sink to vomit one more time.
England blinked a few times before remembering all the weird names America had called him earlier.
Oh yeah... He doesn't recognize me because of the swap. Still…who exactly does he think I am? He called me his twin earlier, I think…I think I would know if he had a twin, though… He decided to check his recollection.
"Um," England asked. "What did you call me?"
"You're my twin. Syrup dude. Whisper guy."
It took several more awkward minutes until England was somewhat ashamed to remember that America did have a twin, whom he had apparently forgotten about.
America whined something more and staggered up.
"I think that's …all the nasty stuff," he huffed. "I found you!"
He quickly proved himself wrong about having expelled all the vomit, however.
"No, don't—Oh, why'd you have to do it in a second sink?" England complained.
"Was close," America wheezed.
England sighed and started the water running in the first sink. This was going to be a long night.
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A/N:
Hi. What'd you think of the chapter?
…Need to go do homework now (that's why this chapter's short.)…bleargh.