Author's Notes:
Second chapter here to pick up from where chapter 1 left off~ :D Enjoy!
Now, Arthur Kirkland was a man who considered himself pretty much prepared for anything; be it a new challenge life threw at him or one of the irritating, completely avoidable mishaps of one of the other nations. He had the seven seas to thank for that.
Numerous out just sailing around through the international waters was what molded him into the bright, refined gentleman he was today who was very hard to catch off-guard. If another country decided to attack him, he knew he could maintain a cool head, along with a tactful mind, and devise an equally clever counterattack in a short span of time.
Nothing at all, though, could've prepared him for seeing Juan dela Cruz, along with that damn filthy water buffalo of his, to show up on the front step of his peaceful London home, where he and the rest of the Allied Forces were having a meeting in the living room, bringing with him unconscious, drunk-off-his-ass Alfred Jones.
"Really sorry if I'm interrupting anything, kuya," Juan apologized as he sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, smiling nervously up at the Englishman. "It's just that…you see…"
Pedro, the muddy carabao that seemed very much disturbed by both the gloomy British weather and the American dead-weight that was on his back, rapidly shook his head, grunting lowly, as he spun his tail around erratically, mimicking the movements of an electric fan, from where he was standing: a few feet behind his owner.
"No, it's really quite alright…" Arthur automatically answered, not aware that he did so, whilst staring at the unconscious Alfred. He couldn't help but wonder what could have caused him to pass out so…ungracefully.
"Well, I just came here to drop off Kuya Alfie," the tan boy said as he looked back at his pet and the man that was lying down on top of it.
The green-eyed man snapped out of his daze and offered, "Wh-Why don't you come inside for a while? You must be tired from travelling such a long way just to deliver this idiot…" He hoped that he didn't make it too obvious that he wanted to know what had happened as well.
"Ah, thank you but…how about Pedro?"
"…Pardon?"
Juan simply pointed at the animal in question.
"Er, well…uh…" Arthur tried to think. There was absolutely no way that that giant…thing could fit through the front door.
"…Oh, I know!" Like an excited child, the Filipino ran over to his carabao and tugged it along using the creature's horns until they reached the sidewalk, to where a silver, partially rusty parking meter stood.
This was another thing he wasn't expecting. "Ah, Juan," he tried to stop him but before he was able to actually gather up his wits and walk to where he was, the boy whipped his head round and gave a thumbs-up.
"It's alright! I already paid!"
Two things registered in Arthur's head. First was the fact that Juan had just walked over to a parking meter and, quite literally, 'parked' his carabao into the space. Second was that he said he paid for it, despite not having any pounds that the blond was aware he had.
"Pedro, dito ka lang, okay?" [Pedro, just stay here, okay?] He gave the big mammal a loving pat on the head then called over his shoulder, "Kuya, I might need a few more people to help me carry Kuya Alfie! It took me and four of my neighbors just to carry him out of my house and so…"
"Eh…eh…sure…" He was still dazed from the silliness and abruptness of everything that had just happened, not to mention how random it was, as he sauntered into his living room, where Francis, Ivan and Yao had been kept waiting.
"What happened to you?" Francis asked in a rather mocking tone as he leaned back in the plush armchair he was sitting on, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing much; just that Philippines and his blasted buffalo just arrived, bearing a drunken Alfred. Then he literally parked aforementioned buffalo next to a meter and somehow paid for it without using money…" He forced himself to snap out of his reverie, in fear that he end up saying something stupid.
"…It's either you're spouting some really strange nonsense that you believe is true or you're lying."
"I'm not! Look out there yourself, why don't you? And besides, Juan needs some help because he can't carry Alfred on his own." He sputtered out, pointing at the front door a few paces behind him.
"Ah, kuya, I don't need help anymore!" Juan's voice floated over to their ears as he pushed the slightly ajar door to make a wider opening using his shoulder, as his back was facing them from what they could see.
And much to the Allied Forces' chagrin, it was none other than the members of the Axis Powers who had decided to stop by and help the scrawny tropical nation.
The tan boy entered first, carrying one leg of the unconscious man he had the misfortune of taking care of; and Feliciano, who seemed to be his usual self, more happy than what was presumed as sane, followed close behind, carrying the other limb.
Behind the two of them were Ludwig, who looked like he was about ready to kill something, and the ever-so-stoic Kiku; both of whom were supporting the upper body.
And somewhere outside, Pedro 'ungaaa'd loudly.
"Hi, everyone!" Feliciano, who didn't seem to mind (or simply wasn't aware) that he was addressing his supposed enemies. "We just happened to pass by…uh…" He furrowed his eyebrows and turned to the person beside him. "Hey, what's your name again?"
"I'm Juan." He didn't seem to mind the small bout of rudeness.
The happy-go-lucky smile returned full-fledge as the Italian continued, "We just happened to be passing by Juan here while he was trying to get Alfred off his cow by himself and so, we decided to go and help him!"
By that point, Arthur was sure if Ludwig didn't have both his hands full, he would've either slapped his forehead, or strangled Feliciano.
Perhaps both.
"Wow," Ivan stood up and walked over to where Alfred was being hauled; his eyes were wide like an innocent child's, a far cry from what his inner personality really was like. "He looks really out of it…" He gave off the aura of being more curious than actually concerned as he poked Alfred's cheek.
"Pedro's a carabao; he's not a cow…" Juan softly corrected the Italian then turned to the tallest of all of them in the room. "Please don't do that…You might bruise kuya's cheek."
Wordlessly, the Russian slowly drew back his hand.
"Thank you," Juan said; he turned his head to England. "Ah, where should I put kuya?"
"There's a nearby guestroom here on the first floor," Arthur replied. "That will have to do for now, everyone will be going, alright?"
He almost felt sorry for Ludwig when Feliciano immediately said, "Okay!"
So both the Allied and Axis parties quietly followed Arthur; once in the empty bedroom, they placed Alfred on the bed. Arthur sat on a chair, Ivan decided to just stand, Francis was outside in case he was going to be… himself, Feliciano happily bounced on the bed where the drunk American was sleeping, and the rest opted to sit on the carpeted floor.
"Alright, first— Why in the bloody hell are you three here?!" He nearly forgot about them.
"Ve~! Don't worry about us, we're not going to fight you guys," Feliciano happily replied. "Juan was under Spain once, like my brother! I want to know stuff about him!"
The Italian then turned to Ludwig, and Arthur was impressed at the way the weakest member of their group persuaded the stoic German with his kicked puppy look. The sparkles rivaled the ones his fairy friends had.
"Alright," Ludwig sighed, feeling very tired. "But only for today."
"Back to what I said," Arthur said, clasping his hands together and looking at the young colony. "Why is Alfred in his state right now?"
"Oh, it's nothing to worry about!" Juan said, smiling. "Kuya and I were just drinking in my house; he got really drunk easily…"
"Heeeh? Alfred isn't the type to be drunk that fast." Ivan pondered, curious on what alcohol did the Filipino give.
"That's true, aru," Yao said. "It's usually Arthur who is the tipsy one, aru."
Arthur merely glared at both of them.
"Oh, I brought the bottle with me!" Juan then had a glass bottle on his hand that seemed to pop out from his red bandana. Arthur's left eye twitched, the boy probably learnt that from the idiot. How else would you explain the hamburgers that seemed to pop in front of the blond as if by will?
"… Wait, that prat actually allowed you to drink?" He glared at the unconscious so-called prat. He taught him better than that, allowing a fourteen-year old boy to drink was very irresponsible, even for him!
"We only drank a few shots, and it would be rude if I didn't drink with him," Juan explained. "I would be a bad host if I didn't want to."
Arthur frowned at the answer; he was definitely lecturing Alfred once he was sober.
"Well, it wouldn't do good to waste a drink, would it?" Ivan cheerily said. "How about we try some of that…"
"Lambanog," Juan supplied.
"Yes, lambanog, we should have some, this is probably the last time all of us will be in friendly terms." He gave an innocent smile.
Yao and Kiku didn't seem to mind, Feliciano happily agreed, and Arthur and Ludwig reluctantly agreed as well.
Juan beamed at them, it was too bad kuya was sleeping. He would miss the fun.
Ivan laughed at the chaos going on in Arthur's house; after only a few minutes of drinking the La-whatever it was, everyone was instantly a swaying and slurring mess. He had to admit, what the boy brought was pretty strong stuff, and was impressed that he still had a clear head, albeit blotches of pink were already appearing on his cheeks.
"Kiii~iku… whu' happen when you were so~oo small an' chu~te-aruyooo?" slurred Yao to Feliciano, slinging his arm around the Italian. Both of them swayed in random directions. "We used ta' 'ave lot'cha fuuun…"
Feliciano giggled, slapping the back of his drunken mate.
"Ve, ve, ve, ve! 'Mm not Ki-ki-whu'ever you call'd me," he replied, giggling non-stop. "My name's Feliciiiaa~anoo~o!"
"Tha's choo' long-aruu! Ca' I call yooouu Shampoo~o, in'teaad?"
Kiku was currently bowing to the wall, slurring out what seemed to be apologies in Japanese.
Francis was currently doing something extremely inappropriate, and not to mention illegal, to the chair Arthur was sitting on awhile ago. Juan made a mental note to tell the owner of the house to burn it afterwards.
Arthur somehow got dressed in an angel suit, and was actually flying, bonking Ludwig on the head with a plastic star wand, and screaming 'You got me booty!' repeatedly.
Ludwig was just staring at Arthur like how a child would look at a mountain of candy, and was drooling.
It seemed like Alfred was the lucky one, being rendered unconscious. Ivan somehow conjured up a camera out of nowhere and was currently clicking away while drinking his vodka, which also came from nowhere. Juan wondered if he was using the technique kuya used when eating hamburgers.
"I AM TEH HOLY ROMAN EMPAH-YEEE~ER! FEAR ME!" Ludwig suddenly screamed, fists pumped up, startling Arthur. The German then began running around rambling about potatoes.
Ivan laughed again, and Juan actually joined him.
Alfred groaned as light hit his half-asleep eyes. His head hurt like hell, what happened?
Oh, now he remembered, he was drinking his ward's lambanog.
He slowly got up, groping the bed he seemed to be lying on.
'Damn, where are my glasses?'
A blob suddenly sat on the bed he was lying on.
"Here you go, kuya." He graciously took what the brown and black blob gave him and put it on. The blob was replaced with Juan, who was grinning at him.
"Good morning, kuya! Did you have a nice sleep?"
"Could be worse," Alfred said, observing his surroundings with curiosity. "What happened?"
Juan snickered.
"Lambanog," He said simply.
"Ah."
"Well, I better look for Kuya Arthur," he said, standing up and walking towards the door. "I lost sight of him a while ago, and he's still very… delusional."
He was about to leave until he heard his big brother's voice.
"I wasn't joking, you know," the American said quietly as he stood up and started to make his way toward the door. "You'll be a great country, and I promise you, you're gonna get your independence."
Juan smiled; he felt a huge burst of happiness in his chest.
"I know, and thank you… you're truly my kuya for me, and not in the sense of just an honorific."
He left the room, leaving the young boy alone. Alfred smiled; he was a good kid, really. He just had the rotten luck of getting horrible big brothers.
"BRITANNNIA BEAM!"
"Waaaaaaah!"
Crash! Bonk! Wham!
"Ugh, well. I found Iggy."
"Do you have a wish, young man? I can grant it, for I am the Britannia Angel!"
'Just how strong is that stuff Juan got?'
It was already approaching evening when all the commotion in Arthur's house finally died down, leaving only drunk Nations who were sleeping (Straying in and out of sleep in their drunken state all night long must've taken quite the toll, after all), broken pieces of furniture, and irremoveable carpet stains in its wake.
The only people who were still awake were Juan, who seemed as sober as ever; Alfred, who had just finished putting Arthur down somewhere to sleep; and Ivan, who was smiling like a little child on Christmas Eve.
The blond sighed and scratched his head as he surveyed the mess that used to be the living room. Arthur would definitely not be happy when he finally woke up. He couldn't help but smile, despite himself. An angry Arthur was always entertaining to see.
"Well," the tallest of the three of them started, smiling at Juan. "You seem like you can hold your alcohol well, da~"
Alfred resisted the urge to snort at that comment. 'What an understatement…'
The Filipino, in turn, awkwardly grinned back. "Th-Thank you…?" He didn't know if he was supposed to take that as a compliment or not.
"The others can't handle alcohol as well as you do," Ivan mentioned. "How would you like to come to my house sometime to sample some drinks, da? I'm sure you haven't tried that many varieties of vodka before, have you?"
"Ah, that's a very nice offer, Kuya Ivan…" he answered. "But I'm afraid I have to decline."
A few moments passed before he finished,
"You see, we Filipinos are mild drinkers."
Author's Note:
According to something I read a few months back, lambanog is typically 80-90 proof but can go as high as 166 (at least…here in the Philippines, it can. XD). From what I heard, traditional Russian vodka is typically 80 proof. :D
And if any of you were wondering about why Philippines' name differs in this story (This is addressing the people who read 'Just Today,' wherein Philippines' name is Felipe), this was written about...half a year ago and since then, we decided to give Philippines-tan a cooler name. XD
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed and please leave a review~
-IceFlake 77 & Clover Phantom-