Hey just gonna credit TheFullmetalAlfred again for helping me write this story
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What Happens At The Bar Stays At England's House
Chapter 2:
Come On England, Lighten Up Dude!
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"Ugh." England looked around, scorning America's taste in pubs. This place was loud and boisterous and packed to the rafters with chattering people; not the kind of bar for a gentleman like himself to be hanging around in.
"I hate this place. It's so… alcoholic-y." America rolled his eyes as England sniffed the air, screwing up his nose in distaste. "And it smells awful."
"Can't be much worse than the air outside," the younger nation jibed. "I don't think the smell's gotten any better since way back when horses still crapped in the streets and you wore a top hat!"
"Oh, can it, you sodding great twat," England huffed, folding his arms on the counter of the bar they sat at. "I looked good in a top hat."
America grinned. "Lighten up, dude! This place has a great atmosphere! Heck, first drink's on me. Whatcha want?"
"I hate you sometimes."
"Not as much as you hate France though, right?" England snapped up, shaking his fist.
"France?! Where?! I'll show that no-good frog who's a better cook!" He glanced around, grinding his teeth. America exposed his palms, making soothing movements with his hands.
"Whoa, dude! What the actual fuck? Calm the shit down! France isn't even here." England cast one last raking glance over the crowd.
"You never know. I wouldn't put anything past that miserable frog-face."
"Hey, just shut up and have a drink." America waved over a bartender. "Hit us, man!" He slid a glass over to England, who picked it up and sniffed it tentatively.
"Sorry about that, chap. And I'm still not quite convinced this is a good idea. Are you sure I should be doing this?"
"I am 900% sure!" America exclaimed, actually completely unaware that this really wasn't mathematically possible. "Lighten up! Please? For me?" England sighed heavily and submitted to the puppy-dog look that America was giving him, his blue eyes pleading and his bottom lib stuck out.
"Fine. Just a little. I'm sure nothing could go horrifically wrong. I mean, my problem's not that bad." America dropped his act and brightened, slapping England on the back heartily.
"That's the spirit! Positive thinking rules! It's the mark of a hero!" He sipped his drink and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully."What a weird word. Spiiiiriiiiit. Spirit. Spiritspiritspirit." He laughed. "Spirit!" England's attention wandered as his fellow country preceded to stick the word 'spirit' after every other word that came to mind.
"American spirit! Hamburger spirit! Basketball spirit! Pie spirit! Victorious spirit! Christmas spirit!" A red hat popped up behind the counter, complete with fluffy white trim and pompom. It was quickly followed by the rest of Finland, who arose fully decked out in a Santa suit and calling at the top of his little blonde lungs,
"Did someone say 'Christmas spirit?!'" America stopped halfway through 'free spirit'.
"OMFG, I just love Christmas! It's such a magical time where everyone can get together and celebrate the beauty of love and the magic of giving! I simply adore—" America leaned forward and pushed down on Finland's head, attempting to shove him back down into whatever magical void he'd appeared from.
YOU ARE READING
What Happens At The Bar Stays At England's House
HumorEngland and America catch up to have a night out at the bar. They of course get drunk and crazy stuff happens that should be left unsaid. C'mon dudes, this will be one of the funniest things you'll ever read.
