Anime One Shots

Hetalia - England

The bars in France didn't seem to have any sort of visible age-restriction, and they let you in without so much as a questioning glance. Once inside, you witnessed the most exquisite spectacles, including a variety of drunken men shouting about how the food was far superior in another country: England. You, being from that same place, could attest that the food truly was a delicacy, although not in the way that French food was. The tastes and aromas were strikingly different, and cultural variations in dishes meant that you couldn't really compare them. You ghosted by an incapacitated blonde-haired, emerald-eyed man, clad in a suit and spilling wine on to the floor. He was lying on one of the couches, with seemingly no company whatsoever. Sighing, you wormed your way to the bar and ordered a drink. When it had been obtained, you travelled back to the passed-out man, who you now noticed had turned himself over. He was drooling a little, which you thought was cute.

The guy reeked of alcohol, so it was obvious that he had been drinking for a while - too long, perhaps. You wondered why he would sleep there, so defenceless, especially in France, of all places. You sat beside him, making sure that no harm would befall this charming fellow.

"He sure has big eyebrows..." You muttered quietly, not wanting to wake him.

"I'm *hic* the United bloody Kingdom, you *hic* wanker!" He grumbled in his sleep.

That was when it hit you - he was British, just like you.

As you started to study further, you noticed some peculiarities, such as the dark, bushy eyebrows which stood in stark contrast to his blonde hair. He squirmed on the seat, at one point getting dangerously close to you, so much so that his alcohol-laced breath ghosted across your face. In any normal situation, you might have blushed at this, but the culprit was in a trance-like sleep, muttering to himself about unicorns and fairies. Sweat-dropping and laughing awkwardly, you planted a light tap on his arm, knowing full-well that it was unlikely to wake the sleeping beauty. You breathed a sigh of defeat, glancing at his fluffy-looking locks and wondering whether they truly felt as nice as they appeared. Naturally, this was when you began stroking it, like he was a long-haired labrador or something. A gentle smile crept on to his lips as he subconsciously registered your gesture of affection.

This nearly made your insides collapse as you squealed, trying not to be too loud. To be perfectly honest, you weren't quite ready to give up on this guy yet. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Shooting a look at whoever it was, you found yourself face-to-face with an old friend. You instantly cracked a smile when he gave you a charming wink.

"It has been far too long, mi amour! I see you have captured a drunken Brit."

"France!" You yelled excitedly. "It has been a while! Is this one with you?"

The wine-loving blonde replied with a smirk. "Well he was, but you seem to want him more."

With a quick nod, you asked, "Who is he, anyway?"

"That, my belle femme, is England." He scratched at his stubble as he spoke.

"Oh, another country? Wow. Wait - does that mean he's my motherland or something?"

France laughed. "Why don't you call him "Daddy" instead?"