If there was one reason that England agreed to hold meetings in London, it was because he could easily go drinking afterward. Sitting at one of the stout tables in his favorite pub, England grasped the pint glass in front of him and savored the malty porter. He sighed contently and wiped the froth from his upper lip with the back of his hand.

Germany had been to London many times but had never really bothered to look around. He found the city to be quite idiosyncratic, many buildings were old as some at his home, but there was so much on the frontier of culture. Germany was thankful that Italy had gone home right after the meeting; it gave him a free chance to do something alone. After almost getting hit by a car, Germany made the decision to get off the streets. On a corner, he saw a wooden sign hanging over the street, carved into it was the gilded silhouette of a small woman with wings sitting in a crescent moon with the words The Gold Fae printed above. It looked respectable enough; Germany wrenched open one of the heavy oak doors and stepped inside.

England turned his eyes to the open door and the broad shouldered man silhouetted against the brightness of outside. As the door closed and England got a better look at him, his heavy brows shot up. "G'rm'ny." He called across the pub. The German jumped slightly but looked relieved to see England and quickly crossed the heavy floorboards to England's table.

"Hallo." He said, taking the seat England had motioned to.

"Thought ya went home like ev'ryone else." England said with a slight edge in his tone.

"I wanted to see your Stadt." Germany replied, looking around the establishment. There was a lot of dark oak, making the room seem smaller than the German was sure that is was. There was a pinball machine and an old style jukebox tucked into one corner. There were several five person tables, and a few two person tables, one of which he sat at.

"Well, wha'dya think uv it?" England asked, placing his half empty pint glass back down on the thick table top. Behind him, Germany could see the mahogany bar lined with stools manned by a stout fifty something man who was filling glasses from a tap. A girl in her early twenties took the glasses to tables. Another girl would come in and out of a side door with plates and bowls laden with usual British pub fare.

"London is quite a unique place. It pleases me." Germany replied, bringing his focus to rest back on England, who had finished his beer and motioned for the attention of the waitress on her way to the bar. The girl came over with an amicable smile and a cheerful voice.

"'nother porter?" She asked, picking up England's glass.

"Yep," England nodded, "Y'want anything, G'rmany?" He asked, leaning forward.

Germany raised his eyes upon being addressed, "Ah, I-I really shouldn-"

"No, I'm buyin' ya a pint." England declared with a regal gesture, "Two, Tara." He said to the girl.

"Sure thing, Arthur." She replied, flashing her smile and gliding to the bar.

"Bitte, you do not have to-" Germany muttered once the girl was gone.

"But I want to." England said slowly and definitively. He put his palms flat on the table, showing that there would be no more discussion on the matter. "We're no' en'mies anymore, G'rmany." He said softly.

"I suppose so." Germany agreed, picking up the pint that had been set down in front of him.

"Then, Cheers." England grinned, holding up his glass.

"Prost," Germany replied, meeting England's toast before he drank.

-Five-

"...S'merica says I dun need you anymore, ya fogie bast'rd." England yelled swinging his arm and almost hitting Tara on her way back to a table with a tray of pints. "'nd off 'e went, jus' like that." Germany nodded slowly, "'nd look w'ere we are now. 'e's go' the bigg'st ego 'n'th w'rld."

"I denk mein Bruder could've challenged that." Germany replied, leaning on his hand. His tongue was definitely slower as he began to slip up with his English.

"Aw yeah," England whined, "Yur bruther wuz a real prick!" He gestured with his beer in Germany's general direction, "No 'ffence though." Germany found himself laughing and nodding in agreement.

"Y'vanna know who I hate?" Germany muttered after a minute. He'd loosened up enough to take Britain's never ending offers of more booze. They hadn't spoken much, but beer was always a conversation starter, whether the drinker liked it or not.

"'Oo zit?" England slurred, downing the rest of his ale.

"Franz." He spat, dropping his chin to his chest, "He'z such 'n dummkopf."

"'ll drink t' that." Britain laughed, hailing down Tara to bring another round.

-Eleven-

"Stupid bloody space 'nvadin' wank'rs." England growled as he lost his tenth game on the pinball machine. He began digging in his trouser pockets but found that he was out of change. "Fuckin' bollocks." He grumbled, turning to Germany. "Y'got 'ny change?"

"E'n Moment." Germany said gruffly; from his pocket he produced a handful of ridged coins. England took a few and put one in the machine. It fell back into the coin return. This process repeated several times before England made a discovery.

"Thes're Euros!" He shouted at an unnecessary volume, tossing them back at Germany who furrowed his brow.

"Ja," Germany replied, picking up the coins he'd been unable to catch, which was most of them. "Ist es ein Problem?" He groaned, standing back up and watching England, who was fishing in his pockets again.

"M'chine takes pence." He answered bluntly before simply sitting down in the space between the game and the jukebox.

"Vhy don' you jus' uze Euros?" Germany grunted, leaning against the pinball machine.

"'Cuz pounds have fuckin' drag'ns and stuff on them. Th're mint." England muttered, swishing the porter in his glass before downing it.

"Euros haben buildings, and eagles, and Mozart on them." Germany challenged, feeling distinctly as though he had won when England didn't answer for almost a whole minute.

"It d'mat'r." He slurred, "G' ge'me 'nother beer." Germany took the empty glass England gestured with and swayed off. Neither realized the obvious solution that England could get change from the man at the bar.

-Fourteen-

Enough time had passed that the other pub patrons had turned to the jukebox to supplement their entertainment needs. Germany and England had fallen silent for a while; alcohol only made people talk for so long. England sat slumped over the table, sliding his glass back and forth until familiar music reached his ears, then his pint glass slid right off the table and shattered on the floor when his left hand didn't stop it.

"Oy, I know this song." England slurred, stumbling to his feet and swaying and waving his arms. What Germany couldn't understand was that he was trying to dance. His took a sip of his--how many drinks had he had? The alcohol in his mouth dropped into his lungs as England came a shook his shoulders, "Ya gotta dance wif me." He laughed.

Choking and sputtering, Germany got to his feet. He turned to see England jumping and stumbling around the chairs and tables, mumbling the lyrics of the song more to himself than anyone else. The men by the jukebox were nearly in hysterics. Then England came around again, hip checking Germany, "Y'r not dancing." He garbled before taking Germany's arms and spinning.

Already very drunk and disordered, spinning around only made everything worse. The whole pub became a stream of colors, thick accents, and nausea. Even England laughing like a madman on the ends of his arms was barely in focus.

The song ended rather abruptly, and the spinning nations came to a stumbling halt. Germany leaned heavily against the table he'd almost run into as England waved for Tara's attention.

-Last Call-

Germany and England stumbled out the heavy oak doors of the Gold Fae with their arms around each others shoulders. England had explicitly turned down all offers of help getting home. Thus the two nations shuffled through the streets of London. England seemed to know where they were going, so Germany simply went along laughing and slurring lyrics as England tried to sing "Neun'dneunzig Luf'ball'ns auf 'm Weg z'm Hor'zont."

"Tha's a good song, man." England mumbled once they both got tired of singing. "Wazzit 'bout?"

"End of de world." Germany chuckled.

"Whatev'r it is," England kept talking like he didn't really hear, "Ya'v got a b'utiful tongue m'friend." He patted a hand on Germany's chest as both of them tripped up the few stairs to England's flat overlooking the Thames.

"Mm, danke." Germany grunted a reply, steadying himself against the other nation, which was less than wise considering that England wasn't exactly stable. "'Schuldigung." He mumbled after almost banging their heads together.

"'S okay." England replied with a chuckle. He fished in his pockets for keys, and upon finding them, proceeded to attempt the feat of unlocking the door. As this went on, Germany leaned against the door frame. What was he supposed to tell Kanzlerin Merkel when he got home? He stopped thinking about this once England laughed in triumph at finally choosing the right key. He leaned against the door and said, "This'uz a lot ov fun. We oughta do it ag-AH!" The door opened as England put his weight onto it. Flailing out an arm for anything to grab on to, he got a fistful of Germany's jacket, and both nations crashed to the floor just inside the threshold.

"You 'lright?" England asked, looking down his nose at Germany whose head had landed on his chest. The larger nation's weight pressed down on him bringing with it a heat that seeped through all of England's body.

"Ja," Germany replied simply; he closed his eyes, listening to the heartbeat resounding in his ear. When the rhythm picked up, Germany raised his head. In the dark, he could see England's cheeks were redder than they'd been before. "Alles gut mit you?" He asked, shifting on to his hands and knees. England nodded slowly; the heat wasn't going away.

They were so close...

So close...

-Back to one-

The G8 summit meeting was to be held in Frankfurt, but a week before the date, the other seven members received a letter from Germany saying that the location was changed to Munich. Apparently, there'd been a water main break and the building in Frankfurt was unusable.

England spent the whole meeting trying to avoid Germany, which turned out to not be that hard as Italy kept him occupied. He barely listened to the presentations of the other countries and even got caught staring out the window as his own Prime Minister spoke. This went on for three days until the summit ended.

As England rose to leave with his boss, he felt a large hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Germany. "Would you like to come to the HofbrÀuhaus with me?" The taller nation asked. England raised his eyebrows and glanced to his boss who was talking to America's new president.

"Can we do that?" England whispered, turning back to Germany, who glanced to his boss. She smiled to him, and he returned the gesture.

"Yes we can." came Germany's terse reply. England found himself pulled toward a back exit. He glanced back at his boss. Brown would be cross with him for leaving, but England didn't care; he really needed a drink.