~ 6 ~
"Kesese! You're spilling it all over. Keep still."
"Okay! Okay!"
They sat on stools leaning heavily on each other. Up close, England's flushed face was almost diabolical but Prussia was too drunk to tell the difference. He was so far gone, he didn't even notice when he swung his arm around the Brit's thinner shoulders, giving him a squeeze and ordering for more beer. At any other time England would have ripped off his arm but seeing as how things were, he just went along with it. He raised his glass and bumped it against Prussia's forehead to get his attention.
"One more time mate! An' this time I'll beat you." His cackle sent shivers down the spines of the other costumers and many stared at the two like if they were crazy.
Prussia's eyes immediately brightened once he caught on to what England was thinking.
"Not a chance!" Prussia said, cocky and willing for the challenge. Despite the high amount of alcohol he'd already consumed, definitely more than England, his face was less red but his eyes were bloodshot and way scarier than England's creepy smile. Together, they looked like serial killers actually.
They grinned at each other, pulling back to start the drinking contest. It was their second one so far because the last had ended in a tie with both of them momentarily blacking out. Although Prussia had claimed he'd won that one.
The bartender looked at them wearily but also with a small confused smile.
"One…two…thr – oh, not again ye bloody prat!"
England watched with growing annoyance as Prussia downed his beer before England could properly announce the start. Not one to be left behind though, he quickly tipped his glass back and swallowed the golden beer in one gulp. He slammed his glass down and smirked at Prussia's disappointed face.
"Whatever," he said and raised his glass for a refill but the bartender didn't move.
"Don't you think you have had enough yet men?"
Prussia snorted. "What are you, my bruder?"
The bartender raised his hands to show he meant no harm. "I'm going to have to cut you off. You've had too much to drink."
"Give me a break," Prussia said, rolling his eyes and staggering to his feet to be more intimidating. He couldn't quite pull it off. "We're in the middle of a…um, what's the word…?"
"Drinkin' game."
"Yeah! Thanks limey. Drinking game."
But the bartender wouldn't budge. Instead, he gave England an amused smile and said, "I think it's time for you two to head home. Want me to call a taxi again?"
England shook his head and also staggered to his feet. Unlike Prussia though, he tried to look more presentable by smoothing his wrinkly clothes and running a hand through his hair. But he was clumsy and his hand coordination was off. In the end, it did nothing to improve his look but he didn't seem to notice.
As soon as they stepped out into the cold and damp London air, England started humming.
They were a good way down the street, with no real direction in mind, when England began singing to some tune that Prussia swears he'd heard before but he was too drunk to remember from where he'd heard it before.
Way, hay up she rises,
Way, hay, up she rises,
Way, hay, up she rises,
Earlye in the morning!
"Hey," Prussia said frowning. "It's not morning! Change it to nightfall or something."
He received a clumsy smack. "I can't do that ye bloody idiot. It's part of the song." And then he continued singing.
What will we do with the drunken sailor?
What will we do with the drunken sailor?
What will we do with the drunken sailor?
Earlye in the morning?
Prussia began singing with him on the second "What will we be doing with the drunken sailor."
Their singing was cut off with a loud yell as England tripped on the curb. The only reason he didn't fall flat on his face and possibly knock himself out was because Prussia still had a hold of his shoulder. They landed hard on the pavement, England with a grunt as they knocked their heads together.
"Ow," Prussia said after a moment.
They didn't make a move to get back up. Instead they lay on their backs, staring up at the sky, their legs dangling out onto the street while the other half rested on the still wet pavement.
England picked off from where he left off in the song until he was rudely interrupted yet again, this time by a stupid question. "How does the rest of the song go?"
"If ye let me finish, you'd know!"
"No I mean teach me." Prussia laughed. "I wanna sing it to Germany when he gets drunk." He struggled to sit up and England followed suit but the Brit had turned bitchy and he crossed his arms in defiance.
"I don't wanna to teach ye anything."
He growled when Prussia brushed up against his bicep. "Come on. Be a pal." The rancid breath on his cheek made him reel his hand back and punch. He stood up on unsteady legs and watched with sadistic glee as Prussia complained and cursed him in German.
England smiled wider and Prussia caught sight of it.
It took all of two seconds for Prussia to forget his pain and jump to his feet. He didn't give England a chance to react before he lunged, arms reaching for his throat. The only thing that saved England from getting strangled was that he was unsteady on his feet and wobbled to the side. That didn't stop Prussia from colliding with the left side of his body and they both flew in different directions. Aware that he was in some trouble, England immediately broke into a run.
"Komm gefälligst zurück, Limey!"
England just yelled, "Fuck ye, ye drunken kraut!"
Ten minutes into the chase, both forgot why they were even running and stopped to catch their breath. England starting laughing first, unsure as to why, and Prussia soon joined him just cause. They started walking again, in the opposite direction of where they were going before but still nowhere near the direction to the house. England finished his shanty and then sang it again. After two more loops, Prussia knew enough of the lyrics to start singing along.
Put him in the scuppers with the hose pipe on him
Hoist him aboard with a running bowline
Put him in the brig until he's sober.
Make him turn to at shining bright work.
Put him in a boat and row him over
Hoist him up to the topsail yardarm
Make him clean out all the spit-kids
That's what you do with a drunken sailor
They sang until their voices cracked.
"Man," Prussia said when he noticed he was seeing double lights. "We're so wasted."
"Let's sit down for a moment."
They found a nice little bench and Prussia immediately leaned on England. The Brit would have none of that and shoved him away with enough force to send him flopping to the other side of the bench. "Keep to yourself!"
"You know England," Prussia said without really thinking. "You're a real heartless jerk sometimes."
…
Instead of screaming and yelling obscenities like he would have if he was sober, England's eyes teared up. He turned his head quickly to try and hide them but it was too late. Prussia had seen.
"Are you…crying?"
"No!"
The albino leaned over and tried to turn England his way. He succeeding in jerking England's hand away from his face for only a moment but it was enough. "You totally are!"
"I said I'm not!" he cried and he quickly morphed from sad, to angry, and then to depressed. This all happened in the span of a second and Prussia sat back to watch the transformation. He cringed as he realized what he'd done.
"How dare you accuse me of being heartless! I gave nothing but affection and support to all of my colonies. Yes, I might have been strict and sometimes our governments got in the way, but I always treated them like my little brothers. Nothing more, nothing less. When they were children, I bathed and fed them. When they grew older, I gave them space but I was always there in case they needed me. I—," England chocked and said, "I cared for them like they were my brothers. And look where that left me! America betrayed me. Went off and did that bloody revolution. One by one Canada, Australia, New Zealand, India left me. I'm not heartless! But they all left me alone! And you!" he said, almost hissing. "You're not much better. What gives you the right to call me heartless you – you, lazy arse!"
And as the rant went on and on, Prussia couldn't help but notice that rare but familiar feeling he sometimes got when he felt uncomfortable (usually by something he'd said or done to someone). That one feeling where he felt like if he'd been punched in the stomach while trying to swallow. He suddenly felt responsible for fixing the situation but he could only think of one thing to do (since his mind was too fuzzy to really think things through) so he stood and awkwardly tried to hug the Brit.
Surprised by the attack and confused by it, England let him self be hugged.
It was brief and when Prussia pulled away, there was a wide and excited grin on his face. "Hey, why don't we go to some place and beat people up! That always makes me feel better and I know how much you like fights." It didn't matter that they weren't really supposed to go around beating humans up.
What England should have done was shake his head and drag them both back home to sleep off there intoxication. He was supposed to be a gentleman after all and what would his boss say if he found out?
Except he was a drunken sailor right now so being a gentleman wasn't high on his mind.
Instead, England's eyes brightened and he clenched his fist in anticipation. "That's a brilliant idea! I know a place. Scotland took me there…once. Or not really. He was drunk you see, and so I had to pick him up."
Prussia tuned out that last part and instead focused on the first. "Great! Where is it?"
"Just follow me."
The place was one of those buildings that put on a front of a dance and bar but underneath, literally in the basement, there was a whole other world. It didn't take much to get in. They were let in rather easily, much to Prussia's delight. Apparently England had come here more than once. In fact, he was such a familiar face the guy guarding the door had even asked him if he had come to pick up his brother. Seriously, if England could get him into places like these without a problem, he was his knew best friend.
"This is going to be awesome!"
He looked around at the mish-mash of people cheering for one or the other contestant. He felt adrenaline burst into his blood stream as he anticipated a battle. He spotted the booth to register and quickly told England his intentions.
"I'm going to go sign up. Buy us some beer."
He shoved his way through and cut in front of the line. The people behind him yelled and cursed and one even tried to forcefully push him out of the line but Prussia was stronger than he looked. He just gave them the middle finger and his cockiest grin before turning his attention to the person in the booth. Not even batting an eye, the person just preceded to do their job.
"Name."
"The Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt. Make sure to write in 'The Awesome' part so the announcer guy can properly introduce me to the crowd."
"Fine. Sign these papers and you're in. Next!"
"Sweet," he mumbled as he went to do just that. He took a moment to look for England and saw him talking to some pretty brunette and laughed.
Meanwhile, England was highly impressed by his citizen's knowledge of Shakespeare. Enough so, that he'd invited her to have a drink with him and was flashing her his most charming smile. His voice had gone through a transformation from drunken piratish grumbles to suave the instant he'd been engaged in conversation.
"So why are you in a place like this?" she asked.
Before he could answer her, a loud, "For our next round it'll be Charles Thornton vs. The, uh, Awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt!"
The two men pulled themselves on stage and waved at the crowd. They cheered and England could see Prussia milking the attention for all it was worth. He could see the stupid grin on his face from all the way across the room and he snorted. He looked back at his companion who was cheering along with the crowd.
He jerked his thumb at Prussia who was now engaging his opponent in some, not so friendly, banter. "That would be the reason," he said with a dry chuckle.
A/N: Well, originally I wasn't going to write them actually out drinking. Instead I was going to write about the morning after but I figured you guys deserved to watch, at least, the beginning part of their fun filled night. It helps too that I got curious. Next chapter should be the morning after. As always guys, read and review to tell me what you think.
Translation:
Komm gefälligst zurück, Limey! – Get back here limey!