The Green Dragon was better than Alfred had been expecting. It was nothing like the pub he'd met Artie in—that one had been small and dim but modern, with cushioned booths in the corners and tables and a few screens hung from the ceiling to show sports games and other shows. This pub was nothing like that one. It was low-ceilinged, but not enough that he had to stoop, with wooden beams and off-white plaster. The doors were perfect circles and the tables and chairs all looked as if they'd been made out of wood by hand. It's walls were decorated with paintings that looked like they were done directly out of the Rings movies, including portraits of some of the characters. Even the bar itself was designed to look like the drinks came out of big wooden barrels instead of modern plumbing.

It was just what he'd always imagined the Green Dragon looked like.

"This is amazing," he commented, not for the first time, as he looked around the pub. They were sitting at a table in a corner where it was quieter, as this was apparently a favorite spot for tourists. Alfred wasn't embarrassed to admit that he would definitely have come here if he'd known about it, as a tourist, but he was still glad he was there on a double date instead of just sight-seeing.

"They did a nice job," Arthur agreed, amused. "I just wish it was a quieter place to get a drink."

"You just don't like anyzhing popular, do you, Arzhur," Gilbert teased, making Arthur roll his eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with enjoying a quiet place to drink. Besides, my usual place is conveniently close to home."

"Ja, so you can valk back vhenever you get vasted."

"What?" Alfred looked at the blond beside him, curious. "I didn't realize it was so close." And I didn't realize you would ever drink enough to get wasted. Even though he didn't say that part, it was obvious in his expression and posture that he was thinking it, and Arthur shifted nervously in his chair.

"Well, it's not…it's walking distance, but…"

"It's valking distance," Gilbert confirmed, his gaze locked on Alfred, "and ja, your gentlemanly date is vone of zhe heaviest drinkers I've ever met. He can almost out-drink me."

"Und zhat's saying somezhing," Roderich added with a raised eyebrow. He seemed slightly disapproving, but Gilbert merely laughed and kissed the brunet's cheek.

"Roddy doesn't like how much I drink sometimes, but I alvays manage to…mm…cheer him up."

If the man had been embarrassed before it was nothing to what he was now, blushing and mumbling and hiding behind the large mug of beer he'd ordered. It matched what the other three had ordered, all in large, old-fashioned mugs just like in the movies. Alfred wanted to ask if he could buy one to take home as a souvenir.

"I'm sure you do." Arthur wasn't amused. "But don't go putting ideas in Alfred's head—I'm not nearly as big of a drinker as you're letting on."

"You are too, Kirkland. Even Ludvig zhinks you drink a lot."

"Ludvig?" Alfred repeated, the accent strange to his tongue.

"Ludwig is Gilbert's younger brother," Arthur explained between drinks. "He works in Germany."

"Oh. Is he…" Shit, how did he ask without being rude?

A knowing look came into Gilbert's eyes as Alfred hesitated. "Nein, he isn't albino. Blond and blue-eyed."

Unable to think of anything to say to that because he didn't want to sound like some insensitive asshole, Alfred just nodded and took a long rink of his beer.

Okay, now what? We're in a bar with Arthur, and Gilbert and his boyfriend Roderich. This bar is super cool and nerdy but let's not freak out about that and give away how much we know about The Lord of the Rings. We can impress Arthur with that in a more private setting.

Arthur might get drunk. Arthur was a heavy drinker. Good god he'd never imagined that before. His Arthur, prim and proper and well-mannered and so easily flustered was also a man who got wasted? It seemed so out of place and yet he wanted to hear that accent slurred with drunkenness, and to see what sort of drunk the Brit was. Funny? Flirty? Angry? Hopefully not angry, but Arthur wasn't an angry person so he probably wasn't an angry drunk. Besides, Gilbert would have said so if he was.

I bet he's flirty.

A glance revealed that Arthur was watching him out of the corner of his eye, the slit of green glinting a little in the pub's low lighting. Damn, he wasn't even doing anything and he was sexy as hell.

Definitely flirty.

Okay, yeah, he wanted to see this. Drunk Arthur was something he needed to see, if only because it would be entertaining. Not because he thought he'd be able to sleep with him that way. Drunk sex was messy and sort of…gross, if he was completely honest. A person's pleasure and energy was always tainted by what they ate and drank and he didn't like the way alcohol affected that, but when he was hungry enough it didn't matter. Besides he'd fed from Feliks just that morning so that he would be completely in control of himself tonight. If anything happened with Arthur, it would be because he wanted to, not because he was hungry, and it would be because Arthur wanted to, not because he was drunk.

You're making this really hard for yourself, you know.

Yes, but so what?

"Artie," Alfred kept his voice low to match the atmosphere in the room, "you know you can drink as much as you want, since I'm driving."

"Yes," the shorter blond responded slowly, "but I don't want…it wouldn't be right…"

"Drink as much as you want."

"Come on, Arzhur," Gilbert chided, grinning cockily as he lifted his mug and drank at least half of the beer it held. "Don't pass up zhe chance of a hot DD." The last bit made Alfred chuckle, and even Arthur had to crack a smile. Minutes passed as he thought about it and eventually nodded.

"If you're sure, then all right."

Alfred grinned. "I'm sure. Next round's on me." And before anyone could argue, he got up and headed towards the bar for another order of beers.

"He's a catch, Arzhur," Gilbert whispered once the American was out of earshot. "Don't lose him."

Arthur merely scowled at the other man and finished off his beer in a couple of swallows. "I blame you for whatever happens after this."

"You're velcome."

X

Holy shit.

Gilbert hadn't been exaggerating, and Alfred could hardly believe what he was seeing. The two coworkers had gotten into a drinking game reminiscent of Gimli and Legolas, and both seemed to be playing the part of the dwarf.

"Let's take a bazh vhen ve get home, Roddy," Gilbert crooned, drunk and grinning in a way that was openly suggestive about what he intended to do when they got home. The brunet was flustered and helpless against him, hiding in his own mug as the taller male wrapped his arms around his waist and nuzzled into his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that made Alfred avert his gaze out of sheer decency.

Meanwhile, Arthur was slurring his words as he talked mostly to himself. His eyes were unfocused as he continued to drink, blurred by alcohol but still determined.

"Don' tell me I can't drink," he muttered, using his mug to gesture at Gilbert. "I drink jus' fine."

"I didn't say ya couldn't!" Gilbert tore his attention away from Roderich's neck long enough to protest the accusation. "I said ya could!"

Arthur grinned. "'n I can." Satisfied at having won the argument, he turned to Alfred. "Hey."

This was going to be fun.

Leaning one arm on the table, Alfred grinned and lifted an eyebrow. "Hi."

"Havin' fun?"

"Yeah. You're really funny."

A frown flashed across Arthur's face. "I am not here for your amusement!" he all but shouted, indignant.

"Hey, hey," Alfred soothed, touching the Brit's hand and pressing a bit of warmth into him. "I know. It's okay."

But Arthur's focus had shifted.

"How're you doing that?" he asked suddenly, gaze locked on their hands.

"What?"

"You're heating me."

A small wave of shock left Alfred speechless. Heating him? What? No way could Arthur feel that…it wasn't arousal, just comforting warmth. He shouldn't have been able to tell where that warmth was coming from.

Who the fuck are you?

"I just want you to be happy, Artie," he tried to placate him. "Does the warm feel good?"

Arthur nodded slowly, looking between Alfred's face and their hands. "Feels nice…"

"Good." Al smiled and kissed the smaller male's forehead. The gesture made Arthur let out an uncharacteristic giggle, and he smiled crookedly.

Okay, he admitted it. Arthur was an adorable drunk. A little flirty, maybe temperamental, not at all annoying. Just adorable, and that smile promised that Al just had to play his cards right in order to get whatever he wanted.

He can feel me passing warmth to him.

Intriguing, yes, especially in combination with everything else Arthur had done since they met. It made him wonder if this human was hiding any other surprises, things he could do that other humans couldn't.

Now isn't the time to find out.

Right, right. Not now, not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to keep his drunken date out of trouble.

"Excuse me, Alfred," Roderich interrupted quietly, gaining the attention of both blonds, "I zhink it's time I took Gilbert home." Said albino was busy trying to pull Roderich into his lap, though his uncoordinated attempts were easily put off by the brunet, and Gilbert was starting to pout because he wasn't getting what he wanted. The amount f alcohol he'd consumed seemed to be getting to him more than before, as he was mumbling in German, his tone varying from seductive to pleading without his notice.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I think it's bed time for Artie, too."

"Hey!"

Ignoring Arthur's protest, Roderich stood and managed to get Gilbert on his feet by pulling the taller male's arm around his shoulders. Gilbert leaned heavily on him, nuzzling his temple and whispering in his ear—the way Roderich blushed made Alfred glad that he couldn't hear what was said.

"Zhank you for inviting us," the brunet was polite as took Gilbert's wallet and paid for their drinks; Gilbert barely noticed.

"No problem. Good luck with him, we'll see you around."

"Gute nacht."

He watched the two make their unsteady way out of the pub and vanish into the night, chuckling at the way Gilbert kept trying to grope the shorter man's ass only to have his hand swatted away every time.

Have fun, Roderich.

Once the door closed behind them, Alfred turned his full attention to Arthur. "How ya holdin' up?"

Arthur grinned. "Fine."

"Good. Ready to head home?"

An unsteady nod.

"All right, let's go." He stood, then helped Arthur disentangle himself from the table and bench. While the Brit attempted to straighten out his clothes, Al fished out his wallet and dropped a few notes bills on the table.

"Come on, Artie," he urged quietly, linking arms with the green-eyed blond and guiding him outside.

"So clear out here."

"Yeah. It's a nice night."

It really was. The clouds were gone, letting the stars and moon shine down on the streets. Traffic nearby was muffled, mere background noise. Peaceful and quiet, that's what it was.

"Your bike." Arthur had wandered over to the motorcycle and picked up the helmet.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drive you home. You need to get to bed."

"Naw." He rolled the helmet between his hands, studying the way the streetlamps reflected off it. "I'm fine."

Uh-huh, sure.

"Well, let's just go for a ride, then. Sound fun?"

A smile appeared on Arthur's face and he nodded; Alfred stopped him before he could cram the helmet on his head and maybe hurt himself, helped him get it on properly then straddled the bike.

"Come on, and don't forget to hold on tight. I don't want you falling off."

Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically and huffed out a sigh. Really, he wasn't a child and he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But the sidewalk looked a little bit higher than normal so he did as he was told, pressing close to the larger male and nuzzling his helmeted head into the space between Al's shoulder blades. He smelled nice, like always, but he was wearing a different cologne, something cool and enticing. Ooh, his hair looked extra soft under the streetlamps. Running his fingers through it would be fun. But no, that would be weird, right? Since they weren't dating. But it looked so soft…

"Ready?"

Maybe just a little touch, just to see. But there was his neck peeking out from under the hair and it was so perfect, such an even tan and he smelled so good and he was so handsome, so kissable and Arthur wanted to kiss every bit of him and keep him forever, never let him leave, let this summer go on for eternity.

"Arthur, are you ready?"

"What?" Alfred was talking?

"I asked if you're ready."

"Oh. Yes. Go." He hadn't realized Alfred was talking and that was such a terrible thing. He should have paid attention. It was rude to ignore people and being rude was bad. Arthur didn't like when people were rude and he felt awful for ignoring Alfred, but those thoughts were wiped from his mind when the motorcycle roared to life and the vibrations hit him.

Oooh, that was…ah…nice…

A strange smile lifted the corners of his mouth and Arthur shifted forward to get rid of what little space there'd been between his body and Alfred's. He was practically purring, tightened his arms around the American's ribcage and rocked his hips ever so slightly to try to increase that wonderful vibrating.

"Uh…A-Artie? What're you doing?" The nervous tone Al used did nothing to put the older male off, just made him giggle again.

"Your bike feels good."

"…right."

He could feel how tense Alfred was, knew it was because of him but couldn't bring himself to mind. He was enjoying this too much, and if Al was tense then he was probably nervous, and what a funny thing that Alfred was the nervous one when all this time Arthur was having such a hard time controlling himself.

"Hey, wanna come inside?" he asked quietly, resting his chin on Al's shoulder so his mouth was just next to the ash blond's ear as they slowly drove down the street.

"What?"

"At my 'partment. Come inside." Let me kiss you.

"We'll see."

That was practically a no and Arthur pouted before he could stop himself, though he settled after a moment and snuggled into Alfred's back. He forgot about everything but the American's smell and his warmth and that lovely vibrating in his hips.

All too soon, they slowed and stopped, and then the vibrating went away. But he still had Alfred in his arms, and that was good enough for him, so Arthur smiled and let out a happy little hum as he wiggled slightly to get more comfortable.

"Artie, let go so we can go inside. You want to go inside, right? You'll be more comfortable in bed."

Bed? Alfred? Yes!

Excitement taking over, Arthur released his grip on the larger male and hopped off the bike, barely taking the time to yank the helmet off. He stumbled a little before catching his balance then ran as fast as he was able up the stairs to his apartment's door. At least, he thought it was his apartment. He hoped it was. Yes! The key worked! His apartment! With only a little difficultly, he got the door open and stood waiting for Alfred, wide smile in place.

There was hesitance in Alfred's movements as he abandoned his bike in favor of walking into the apartment. He wasn't so sure this was a good idea, but he didn't want to risk upsetting Arthur, so he offered a smile as he walked past him into the building. It was spotless, as he'd known it would be. No way would Arthur ever leave a mess behind. Before he could go very far, the Englishman bustled past him, kicked off his shoes, and headed straight down the hall.

Alfred let out a sigh as he toed his shoes off and left them near the front door. The sounds of Arthur moving around somewhere in the apartment led him to a bedroom, where the golden blond was struggling to unbutton his waistcoat and getting more frustrated by the second.

"This'…bloody…impossible…"

There was that adorable drunk bit showing up again.

Chuckling quietly, Al moved forward and gently moved Arthur's hands away from the buttons. "Let me." The shorter blond immediately held perfectly still, almost seeming to not even breathe as first his waist coat and then his shirt were unbuttoned; Alfred removed his bowtie, too, just in case. "There. Can you get the rest yourself?"

"Mm…"

Shit, he could see the wheels turning, knew Arthur was thinking this out in a way that probably shouldn't happen.

"Help." Arthur pointed at the buckle of his belt.

Fucking great.

Stripping Arthur was on his To Do list but seriously, now? When he was drunk? Not a good idea! Still, he kept silent as he knelt in front of the drunk blond and carefully opened the belt.

"Trousers."

Damn it. Fuck. Shit.

It was getting really hard not to take advantage of the situation as he popped the button on Arthur's pants and pulled down the zipper. The white fabric of briefs greeted him, along with a small, tell-tale bulge that made Alfred's entire body feel uncomfortably warm. Arthur was hard. Arthur was drunk, standing right in front of him asking to be undressed, and he was partially erect.

I'm going to die. This is going to kill me. He'll be pissed if I turn him down but he'll be pissed later if I accept and oh my god what am I supposed to do?

But the decision was taken from him as Arthur shimmied, wiggled his hips in just the right way to make his pants fall and pool around his ankles.

Holy fucking thighs.

They were perfect, creamy white from lack of sun, thin but still with a slight sensual curve and they looked so damned soft that he wanted to run his hands up them and squeeze them a little and kiss them and lick and—

Whump.

Arthur's waistcoat and shirt hit the floor, leaving him in nothing but his socks, briefs and sleeveless undershirt. Everything about him was slim and pale, soft as silk. Even his eyes had taken on a tender look as they gazed down at Alfred, only partially open to show just a hint of that beautiful green. His hair was mussed as if he'd run his hands through it.

"Artie…"

"Mm?"

Slowly, Alfred stood and caressed the smaller male's cheek. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispered, and a light blush appeared on the Brit's features.

"Yeah." It came out on a breath, barely audible, his lips parted in an inviting way, eyes wide.

To hell with it.

Both hands went to Arthur's hair, tilting his head back, and Alfred kissed him. Arms encircled his neck, pulled him down and forward until their bodies pressed together. Alfred's first instinct was to run his hands down Arthur's back, grab that perfect little ass and lift him up, toss him onto the bed and trap him there, leave no room for escape. So he did. But slowly, taking the time to caress the bones and muscles under his fingers as his hands worked their way down, and Arthur reacted to the touch by arching his stomach into Al's, a soft moan escaping him.

"A-Alfred…"

"Fuck, Artie." Finally, he encountered the waistband of Arthur's briefs and took a moment to tease the sensitive flesh there, let Arthur wonder what exactly he would do next. The Brit's breath caught in his throat. Alfred knew what he wanted and deliberately didn't give it to him, kept his hands outside the smaller male's underwear as he cupped his rear, one cheek fitting perfectly in each hand, and squeezed just enough that Arthur whined pitifully.

"N-no…don't tease me…"

"Sorry." And he lifted, easily picked Arthur right up off his feet and took the few steps necessary to drop the smaller male onto the bed. Arthur bounced slightly on the mattress, looked up at Alfred with flushed cheeks and uneven breaths, shrank away as the American crawled over him. Hot, open-mouthed kisses were dropped on the Englishman's body as Alfred moved up, eventually putting them face-to-face again.

"Artie."

"Yeah?"

There was so much want and need in those green eyes that it almost hurt Alfred to look at. How could he refuse this? He wanted Arthur, didn't he? Wanted him more than he wanted anything in the world. Just…not like this.

"We're not doing this while you're drunk."

Arthur's jaw dropped. "You…I…you git!" Embarrassment and anger replaced the other emotions he'd been displaying and he lifted a hand to slap Al, only to have his wrist caught in mid-air.

"Hey, relax." Alfred kissed the golden blond's palm then let his wrist go. "Any time you want, all right? But not when you're drunk. You'll hate me in the morning if I do you right now, and I don't want that. Okay? It's bed time—I'll sleep on the couch in case you need anything."

Slowly, the green-eyed gaze was lowered and Arthur turned his head away. It was as clear of a dismissal as Alfred was going to get, so he placed a tender kiss on the Brit's cheek before he got up. He tugged the blankets loose as Arthur lay down on his side, his back to the American, and tucked them around his curled form so he wouldn't get cold.

"Night, Artie." Another kiss, this one to his temple, then he gathered the Brit's discarded clothes and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Okay, he'd gotten Arthur into bed. He might have done a little bit more than that, but he'd gotten Arthur into bed and the green-eyed blond was probably already fast asleep. Now what?

"Ah…hamper. Hamper, hamper, hamper."

It didn't take long for him to find the hall closet where the washing machine was, and he tossed Arthur's clothes into the hamper beside it. There were blankets folded and neatly stacked on a shelf, so he chose two and wandered back into the living room. Ooh, the couch was a bit small for him, but he'd make it work. He'd promised Arthur he would stay, and he wasn't going to leave just because the couch wouldn't be as nice as his bed.

Abandoning the blankets on the couch for now, he searched the kitchen cabinets for a glass and filled it with water, then snuck back into the bedroom and to the bathroom. A small medicine cabinet provided a few painkillers, which he left on the nightstand by the water—by all appearances, Arthur was in a deep sleep. He was probably going to need those pills in the morning.

Satisfied by his work, Alfred cast a small smile over his shoulder as he left the bedroom again, and headed for the couch. It wouldn't be the best night's sleep he'd ever gotten, but taking care of Arthur put a content feeling in his chest that had him smiling as he shook out the blankets and settled as comfortably on the couch as he could.

Tomorrow morning was definitely going to be interesting.