Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Note: I would be using their character names, mostly. This is an AU fic—a very AU one. Also, I would like to apologize early for any out of character behaviour and/or poor plotting.

..

"…too drunk to fuck," whispers the Englishman and then closes the gap between he and the other man.

Neither of them moved; it was as if they are statues who will forever more stay as they are. Though time had not stopped at that moment, the smaller man feels as if it's so. His eyes are wide open, yet he doesn't see anything but a dark blur—his mind has wandered off.

William releases his hold on the smaller man's wrists and embraces the other; their lips are still against one another's (the intimate feel seems only to be coming from the drunken Englishman), and Kiku's arms still have themselves above his head. The Japanese man blinks a few times, but it looks to be as if his mind is still somewhere far away.

An empty feel soon replaces the Englishman's warmth, and the other begins to come back into reality; he sees William walking unsteadily (but more balanced that a few minutes ago) towards the fallen bags and picks them up, one-by-one.

Kiku remains where he stands as he watches the other pick up the last bag on the floor. William then looks back at the smaller man with a ghost of a smile on his face and cheeks slightly coloured.

--

William frowns deeply as he sits up in his leather couch; he rubs his temple with one hand as he uses the other to help himself up to get something to eat. His head throbs irritatingly a few seconds later; an area of his back and one side of his neck dares to become sore as a result from the way he was sleeping in last... why is he not in his bed, again?

Ah yes, someone else is using it.

What time is it?

It's somewhere past noon—his stomach mumbles incoherent complaints.

He grudgingly walks over to the kitchen and looks for something that won't need much effort to prepare—he finds an unopened box filled with packets of instant coffee. Desperate to find anything else, the box in his hand (other than raw foods in the refrigerator) is the only other damn thing he could easily make. Grumbling about having a 'disgusting brew of sludge' in the morning, he hears, in his perspective, an unbearable noise of someone stomping down in the flat's stairways.

The Englishman turns to see Kiku coming over to the kitchen; William, with already a steaming cup of coffee in hand, steps out and sits on one of the chairs by the dining table (one person can only fit in that small space, really). He sets the mug down and props his head on his palm and has his elbow on the table—"We've never really talked about you staying in my flat, have we?"

Kiku stops what he is doing (which is making himself a complete meal consisting on rice, fish, soup, vegetables, and the like) to pause in thought, and then he resumes his personal task—"…I would like you to leave, please."
"These really are my things, remember."
"I will do my best to take care of them."
"In all matters to consider into, you're actually trespassing in my property."
"It has been sold—"
"—without my permission. Therefore, making your stay illegal."
"…There are rules meant to be followed in here…"
"All of that is locked away and out of reach inside that old bastard's mind, I assure you."

An irritating tension arises between the two; Kiku proceeds to cook the fish in the overwrought atmosphere as if it wasn't there or couldn't be felt. Leaving the mug untouched, William continues to look at the other with a nearly unreadable expression on his face—the discussion has yet to be settled, it shows.

The Japanese man finishes with his cooking and goes over to the table to eat. William has not looked at anywhere (or anything) else but him. Kiku sits down in front of the other and eats his food whilst ignoring the man. Halfway through his meal, the smaller man sets his chopsticks at the side of his bowl and looks at the Englishman. "I find no reason for you to keep looking at me."

"This is but a free world, love," he smiles… then looks as if he realises something… then looks away with his face turned red… then (impulsively) drinks from his mug and makes a noise of disgust.

In turn, without really understanding what was wrong with the other, Kiku stares at the Englishman. William suddenly stands up and walks over to the kitchen sink and pours out the contents from the mug of cold coffee directly on the drain.

After he sees the other leave the apartment, Kiku continues to eat his meal. The smaller man has not heard the other's reply, it seems.

--

As William heads out of the complex, his headache has somewhat lessened from his damned hangover; he regrets ever having to drink so much. He has only walked a step or two away until he meets up with the neighbour—"It's nice to see you again, George," the woman greets with a kind smile; she is carrying a bag of groceries—four bottles of wine are the ones that immediately catch the Englishman's attention.
"Having a party, are we?"
"You can come over, if you like."
"I've had my fair share last night…"
"In case you feel like drinking more, then."

Without a chance for the other to say anything—she must be in a hurry, the woman has already walked away from the Englishman. Looking ahead of him, as if on cue, there walking towards him is a man slightly taller than him—"I thought you still had something to do in Spain, non?"

Ah, yes… the bloody Frenchman.

Despite the sudden sour look on William's (or should that be George's?) face as he sees the other, the Englishman waits for the man to stop at a near distance from him; a familiar yet loathsome air is soon surrounding the two. The other man decides to start the conversation once more— "What are you doing here in Italy?"
"I should be asking you the same thing."
"Unlike you, I have many parties to attend to—"
"Fucking every person in sight, you mean."

The other man glares at the Englishman in annoyance; William also glares at the other in the same manner. "Speaking of which, andouille, how was that boy?"
"…What—"
"Ne me prends pas pour un imbécile… you were singing that awful song beside him."

William thinks of the times where he had last met the other in front of him… that would be a few months ago, he believed; it was before he was told to go over to Spain and investigate about a man with a long list of criminal deeds (aside from the already known acts of theft and fraud, there's actually a few acts of murder committed).

The whole thing is rather amusing for the Englishman, really.

After all, this 'unknown man' is actually none other than himself…very amusing, indeed. He could laugh right now if it wasn't for the Frenchman in front of him.

William casts that thought aside and digs deeper into his mind to suddenly remember a gist of what happened last night. It's a bit muddled, but he recalls—his eyes widen in disbelief and his face colours again. The other man sees this and smiles languidly. "Je le savais."
"N-nothing happened, you git."
"Ah, not even a kiss?"

William scowls at the other in an attempt to prove a point of some sort, but it is soon betrayed by having his own face become a darker shade of red.

"Let us help Elizaveta prepare for tonight's party, oui?" The Frenchman suddenly announces then walks with the (embarrassed) other back inside the complex.