Author's Note: This is the fic collection in which I'll be storing my shorter AmericaxEngland fics.
Prompt: The Morning After
They had no earthly idea why they were even there. All America and England remembered was going to a bar, a haze of activity, and waking up with massive hangovers from hell. In a jailcell. Together. England was laying rather sloppily on America's lap and America was sitting up, his head resting against the cold concrete of the cell. Their heads were pounding so hard as to inhibit much coherent thought.
"What... the fuck," America finally spoke. He looked down at England who was squinting up at him with bleary green eyes. "Did we do something terrible? Heroes don't go to jail."
England scrunched his face. "Whether heroes go to jail or not is the least of our concerns, you idiot." He pushed himself off America's lap, steadying his body with his hands due to an inevitable onslaught of dizziness. "My shirt is ripped." England picked at his tattered white shirt. It barely stayed on his shoulders, torn along the collar it was. "And my sweatervest is missing entirely. How much did we drink"
"So is mine." America frowned, surveying his own garment. "I mean not the sweatervest part. I didn't wear one. Who the hell goes barhopping in a sweatervest?"
"Shut up," England snapped. He paused. "Did we get in a pub brawl?"
America went quiet as he considered it. "Don't see any injuries on you, and I don't feel sore anywhere..."
"I do," he murmured.
"Feel sore somewhere." His eyes widened. "Oh bloody hell. We didn't."
America blinked in confusion. "Um, didn't... what?"
England was about to reply when the door of their cell clicked open and an officer entered. "Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F. Jones, your bail has been paid."
"Who paid it?" England inquired.
The officer shrugged and a wry smile crossed his face. "A Gordon Brown did. Imagine that, bloke has the same name as our Prime Minister. S'ppose it's not terribly uncommon though..."
England looked positively mortified. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped. "My boss found out?"
"Haha," America laughed weakly. "It's a good thing we're in England and not America right now..."
"Oh quiet you," England retorted. "If my boss found out, I'll bet you ten quid that your boss already knows as well."
He gaped. "N-n-o way. Dammit England this is all your faul---"
"Aflred," England stressed, pointedly reminding him to use their human names in front of the officer. Generally America had no problem remembering, but if his mind was even half as muddled as England's was, it was no wonder he slipped. "I highly doubt it was only my fault."
"We don't even remember what happened, Arthur!" America shouted.
The officer cleared his throat. "Want me to fill you in?"
The pair nodded tentatively.
He glanced at the clipboard he held. "You two were arrested at three a.m. this morning near Essex Road for indecent exposure."
"What?" America queried. England's cheeks grew crimson, the officer's statement confirming what that one sore spot was telling him already.
"You had sex in the middle of a public sidewalk," the officer stated dryly.
"Christ's sake," England cursed. "How pissed were we?"
America was speechless. His cheeks had grown red as a stoplight and when he opened his mouth, only spluttering noises came out. They'd gotten completely plastered, ripped each other's clothes off, and had sex in the middle of London. England's sweatervest was likely lying discarded in some alleyway, and now that he thought about it, America recalled that he had been wearing a belt when the two went out the night before. It was missing as well.
Public sex, with another nation. He didn't think he'd have the nerve to face his boss for months. And if any other countries found out...
"You two will find a ride waiting for you outside. I'll walk you out," the officer interrupted America's panicked consideration. He walked out of the cell, waiting for them to follow. "Oh and for some reason I'm not privy to, you won't be prosecuted."
They didn't need to be prosecuted. The potential embarrassment was enough, America thought. He stood up and pulled England to his feet by his hands.
"Next time I pick what we do on our date," America quipped.
England flushed. "I hate to say it, but that's a very good idea."