Hetalia One-Shots

UsUk - Captains Quarters

Edited 05.01.2023

"What do you mean we're out of rum!?" Howls the drunk Englishman, pushing an empty glass mug down the bar. The glass slides with ease, almost falling off the bar before being caught by a pale bartender, who certainly doesn't get paid enough to deal with this.

"I'm sorry sir," the bartender stutters, "I have to keep some stock until the next shipment. We're not out, per say, but you will drink me dry."

The blond laughs, "Drink you dry, eh? Keep 'em coming then! I have the money to keep you funded until next year!"

The bartender sighs, mumbles an okay and turns around to fix the drunkard yet another gin. As he's pouring into the glass, he hears a loud thump and turns to see the once standing fool leaning over the bar, passed out on the floor. The bartender sighs, once again, "I gotta get a new job."

Two hours later, a taller bright-eyed man pushes through the doors, his eyes are immediately caught by the passed-out drunkard, who had been moved into the corner to prevent other drunkards from tripping over him. He shakes his head and laughs, "Captain Arthur, how do you manage to find the bars so easily? You're such an alcoholic." Alfred rolls his eyes and leans down to throw the drunk man over his shoulder. The thrown over man stirs, mumbling, "Your face is..." 'My face is what? Attractive?' Alfred silently hopes. Alfred starts to walk out of the bar, trying to be ever so careful of the too intoxicated man on his shoulder.

"Your face is..." Arthur interrupts his own sentence with belching. Alfred groans, "I really don't know what I expected."

~

After what seemed like an eternity of Arthur mumbling with a mixture of burping and hiccupping, the pair finally reached the ship. As Alfred stalks on board, he beelines straight for the captains' quarters, a feeble attempt at trying to hide the fact that the crews straight-lace, hard-headed captain had to be saved, yet again, from the depths of a bar. Alfred reaches up a hand to the intoxicated man on his shoulder, sheepishly he digs around into Arthurs bag that is tied onto his belt. He pulls out a ring of keys and clicks into the wooden door in front of him.

Alfred steps into the quiet room, neat and tidy. He walks over to the velvety queen-sized bed and leans over it, letting the Englishman fall into the soft bed, something much softer than Alfred ever slept on. As he steps away from Arthur, he starts to pull off the other man's shoes, then moves to remove his coat and hat, knowing that if Arthur woke up with all these things on, he would be frustrated at himself for making a mess of his room. Before Alfred leaves the room, he pulls the blanket over the captain which causes the man to stir in his sleep. 'He has to be dead asleep by now,' Alfred thinks before leaning down to place a light peck onto Arthur's forehead. As he turns to leave, he hears a drunken mumble. He turns back around to see a hand draping over the bed, towards him, "Stay..." says the mumble.

Alfred blushes "I think you might be too drunk, captain." The mumble groans quietly, "Issa order." The sober man looks towards the door and back to the bundle of blankets, "I'll only stay for a little bit, then I gotta go, can't be giving the crew any ideas." The tall man then removes his hat, his tan coat and leather boots and crawls into the empty side of Arthurs bed. The drunken sack of sheets turns over and grabs onto the other man's arm, beginning to once again, snore peacefully. "I said only for a little bit, Artie..." Alfred pushes his hair back with his free hand. He looks around at Arthurs room, waiting for time to pass. As time ticks away on Arthurs golden clock, Alfred's eyes grow heavy and the bed he lays in becomes too comfortable.

~

Alfred awoke slightly panicked, unsure of where he was, that being until he saw the ruffled man next to him still snoring and drooling onto his pillow. 'Definitely did not mean to fall asleep...' Alfred looks at the clock hung on the wall and carefully sits up, 'Early enough to sneak out and not be seen by the crew, though.' As he stands up, he is watchful of the man in bed, making sure not to disturb him 'hopefully,' Alfred considers, 'Arthur just thinks that it was another one of those weird dreams he has'. Many slow steps later, Alfred opens the wooden door, hat on, with coat and boots in hand.

The blue-eyed pirate faces the early dawn on sea, the sky is misty with fog and the alluring sent of a night well done, barrels of ale sit empty on their side with wooden mugs scattered about. He stretches, taking in the glorious scenery. A lust filled chuckle comes from above him. As Alfred looks up into the crow's nest. A curly-headed blond aims a telescope at Alfred. "O-Honhonhon..." Francis leans over the wooden fence, "I see you spent the night with our dear captain... Finally told him how you feel?" Alfred's cheeks grow rosy, "It's not like that! I just fell asleep..." Alfred quickly puts on his coat and shoes, "He was too drunk anyways..." Francis laughs once again and descends from the crow's nest.

"Oh mon chère," the Frenchman steps over bottles on the ground, "You not telling him isn't going to solve anything." He then turns around to walk over to the crew's quarters. "Wait!" Alfred follows Francis, "You aren't going to tell, are you?" Alfred stutters, "About the sleeping in the same bed thing, and the crush thing..." Francis curves his lips into a smile, "tell who? The only one who knows about this is us and the man standing behind you." With another very lewd laugh, Francis sways towards the crews' quarters, yawning and opening and closing the crew doors behind him.

'Shit' Alfred turns around to see a very disgruntled Arthur staring up at him, "You left."

Alfred stumbles backwards, "Sir, I thought it would've been better if the entire crew didn't see me leaving from your room." Arthur steps forward, "Why would it have been better?"

The taller blond takes another step back, nervous, and unsure, "because it would've seemed like we were uh- y'know..." He stammers, bumping into a barrel. Arthur squints his eyes, looking up at Alfred, "You know, what? Finish your sentence."

"It would have seemed like we slept together, like..." Alfred pauses, "intimately."

"So?" Arthur crosses his arm, "Did I say you could leave?"

If Alfred wasn't already sweating due to the heat, his anxiousness would have been even more obvious, "no...?" Alfred quickly looks behind him, fearful that his crew was watching. Arthur unwraps his arms and tugs onto Alfred's cream sleeve, "Then come on, you idiot, I have a hang over to sleep off."