The world meeting was to meet in America's country this year. America liked this because he didn't have to go through agonizing airport details that completely annoyed him. Sure, he had to go all the way to Nevada, but it was a hell of a lot quicker than Europe. This meeting was held in Vegas. America was elated, not because he had to go to a meeting, but afterwards he could go to the casino. Slots and sluts all the way, baby! He thought to himself.
After every nation in the world was thoroughly aggravated in the meeting, they all recouped in the hotel's lobby. America talked to almost every nation about the after party, courtesy of himself. From across the room, he saw England. He didn't exactly know what to call him. His friend? His ex-guardian? Ex-brother? Or whatever. Things had been tense between them since the Revolution. He really did want them to be friends, honestly, but every time he tried to, England would shoot him down.
America walked to the British nation, "Hey Britain! What's up?"
"Anything taller than me." England said, taking a drink of his tea, not looking to the American.
America nervously laughed, "Yeah, guess so. Good joke, didn't know you had it in you."
"It wasn't supposed to be a joke, wanker." He said.
America scratched the back of his head, "Uh okay then, are-are you doing anything tonight?" he asked.
"No." England said.
"Great! Then some of us are going to hit the clubs and get some drinks. Maybe, you'd like to come with us." America offered.
"No thank you." England stubbornly said.
"Aw, c'mon! Don't be such a loner. Besides as nations we get free drinks," he inched closer, "Whaddaya say?"
"Say it right, and I'll consider it." Britain said.
"Ugh, 'what do you say to a night on the town with me'?" he persisted.
England looked to the younger nation, he rolled his eyes, "Fine, I'll come."
"Awesome! I'll see you at eight." America left.
England stood out of the lobby, he checked his watch. It read about eight o'clock, America was coming any second.
"Hey, Britain!" America came up behind him. "Ready to go?"
"Where's everybody else?" England asked.
"I don't know, I told them eight. I guess they'll meet up with us later." America took England's shoulder and turned him to walk out of the door. "Anyway, I said eight, they weren't here, so we left. Let's go." America guided Britain out the door.
They managed to find a club that was just right for the older nation to handle on his first night in Vegas.
"Bartender, get us a couple of shots." Alfred said over the loud music and people talking. America was handed two small glasses filled with alcohol. He handed one to England.
"I just thought you should know, America, I don't usually drink." England said while taking his drink.
"Neither do I, but we don't have any more work, so why not hang loose?" America asked.
Britain, not exactly sure what 'hang loose' meant, drank down the drink along with the American.
37 shots later…
"Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!" the crowd roared as the British man downed his large drink, standing on top of the bar. By this time he'd already lost his shirt and tie somewhere in the crowd. The whole bar erupted with cheers as he finished his drink and threw it to the wall.
He looked down to the see America, whom was also cheering along with the crowd. He curled his finger, cueing the American to get on the table with him. America stood on a bar stool and was lifted by England so they were both the center of attention.
The bartender handed England another drink. The Brit leaned America's head back and pinched his nose. He poured the lime green daiquiri down America's throat. The two soaked up all the attention being given to them.
Somewhere in the crowd, someone shouted, "Body Shots!" above the music and cheers.
America pointed out to the crowd of drunken people, "Good idea!"
England laid his back on the top of the counter with a line of salt going down to his navel; he had a small glass of alcohol in his mouth. America licked up to Britain's diaphragm then took the shot from his mouth. He leaned his head back to consume the drink. America stood and then helped up England.
"Now you gotta return the favor, British dude!" the bartender, probably intoxicated as well, said.
England looked unsure, "I don't know, he's not the thinnest-" he started saying, being interrupted by American slowly removing his shirt to show off a secret six pack, gaining thousands of female shrieks. The Brit stood there in awe of his hidden muscles, tight skin, and the ever-so-sexy 'v' that went down into his pants. And with that, they did the same thing, but with switched roles. Although, America noticed England used the tip of his tongue to like up the salt line, he found it very sexual.
Once their whole fiasco on the top of the bar was finished, they founder their way to a booth in the back of the bar that was kind of secluded. The both had lost their shirts when they threw them to females in the crowd, so neither of them wore their shirts. They sat down in the booth, trying to seize their laughter.
"Wow, I didn't think you were this fun." America said.
"I'm not, that's just the booze."England replied.
"Whatever, man. I love this side of you." America said.
"Yeah well, don't go used to it." Britain chuckled.
"Hey, England, do you think we could do this more often? Not the whole get shit-faced drunk, but we should hang out more." America said.
"Well, it's be easier if you place wasn't so far away." England said, scooting closer. He looked to America with his eyes half-lidded, inching to his face per second.
"Yeah, it would be more convenient if we were closer, huh?" America said noncommittally, for he, too, was leaning in to Britain's face.
"You know… all these times I've gone to the States; I've never been to Florida." England said, still getting closer to America.
"And I've never seen Big Ben." America said in a flirtatious tone. Both knew the other caught their innuendos.
"Would you take me… there?" Britain seductively whispered in the American's ear.
Later that night they returned to America's hotel room. He tried to open the door with his key card, but England came up behind him and dove his hands down the American's pants. He touched the younger nation's junk and then palmed it. America fell standing up to the door and clenches his fists. He let out a moan that told England what he was doing felt great.
"Looks like Florida is going to have a heat wave tonight." England teased.
America gave a moan and a chuckle at the same time. England turned him around and they both started attacking each other's mouths. They didn't go to kissing and then slowly sliding their tongues into the other's mouth, no, they went full on sucking tongues.
America slid his card into the slot and they sloppily hustled into his room. Once inside, England hopped onto the American's grab and wrapped his legs around the taller blonde's hips, crashing everything that was on a table top. America held the British nation up by his ass. England, while licking every part of America's mouth, was also running his fingers through all of the sandy blonde hair.
They made their way to the bedroom where America crashed England onto the bed. Flashes of memories throughout the night went through their minds. No one could pin point at a specific time. All they knew was that it was a fantastic night, in which they'd have to pay for in the morning.
America grumbled to the morning light in his face. He wasn't exactly sure what happened after a few drinks with England last night. All he knew now was that he had his arms draped around a young blonde. He didn't usually prefer short hair on women, but this one seemed to pull it off nicely. Judging by the fact that she had the blankets under her armpits, revealing her bare shoulders, America deducted that she was still naked and last night they must've had sex. Hopefully, she wouldn't be too offended if he told her he didn't remember most of it.
England on the other hand, also woke up with case of drunken amnesia. He blinked his emerald eyes a few times before he realized he wasn't in his room. Seconds after that, he realized there were arms around him. Muscular arms, he deducted he was the bottom last night with this stranger. He fidgeted his way to see how good he was at picking up men in his drunken state of mind. England turned around to face his one-night-stand. Not too bad. Guess this old dog can still sniff out a good trail. He thought. Gorgeous face, blond hair, muscular. The man opened his eyes; clear blue… they were beautiful. He looked to the top of the man's head; a cowlick was there. Almost reminded him of… America.
America opened his eyes to see that his partner for the night had turned around. She had pretty eyes. Eyes almost like England's. Wait…
They stared blankly at each other until seconds later when they screamed in each other's faces. They pushed away from each other as fast as they could. Both were standing on either side of the huge bed. They two blonds saw that they were both still nude.
England reached for the blankets from the bed to cover up, "Cover yourself up, stupid wanker!" He yelled to the American.
America reached for a big white pillow and placed it over his genitals, "Dude, why are you naked in my bed?!" America yelled to the Brit.
"Are you really that daft to not put together what we did last night?" England shouted.
"Wait, do you remember it?" America asked.
"N-no," The Briton said sheepishly, "but it's obvious. Two men, naked, in a bed together…?"
"You got your logic all wrong, old man. I'm not gay." America defended for himself.
"Judging by the ache in my back, I'd say you are… and not very good at it for that matter." Britain said.
"Shit." America said quietly. He sat on the bed and rubbed his temples.
England showed some sympathy towards the lad. "Listen, I can just get my clothes, head back to my room, and we can just forget this whole thing even happened. You don't tell anyone, I don't tell anyone, deal?" he said, already reaching to the floor for his clothing. Noting his shirt was missing, but his jacket was still there.
"Uh, yeah. I guess that would work." America peeked over his shoulders to see England pulling his pants up and buttoning. He placed his arms through the jacket to put it on as well.
England walked to a mirror and combed out his light blonde hair with his fingers. Once finished, he turned to face America. Nervously, he spoke, "Uhm… a-anyway, I'll, uh, just be going then…" he slowly backed his way towards the door and out of the awkward room. He looked to the door knob as he turned it to exit.
America looked to the wall, trying to wrap his head around him and England… doing it. It made him shudder in disgust just thinking about it. All of a sudden, he felt a quick slap across the back of his head. "Ow! What the hell was that for?!" He rubbed his head.
"What the hell is this?!" England asked furiously with a hand on his hip. He held up his left hand to show a wedding ring on his third finger. "You think this is funny, wanker?" he shouted.
"Dude, you got married, congrats!" America smiled, and so he wouldn't have to hold the pillow to his crotch anymore, he reached for his American flag boxers.
"Idiot." England rolled his eyes and scoffed. He grabbed America's wrist forcefully and shoved the American's hand to his vision. "This isn't funny, and it doesn't even matter. Gay marriage isn't legal anyway." He let go of his hand.
"Wrong." America said quietly.
"What?" England asked.
"It's legal in Vegas." America explained. He saw the Brit's face turn red. Like, really red. "Britain…?"
He balled his fists, "I'm going to kill you!" England shouted and lunged at the American. The taller blond fell onto the bed with England's hands at his throat. America tried getting him off from his straddling position on top of him.
"Fuck, England, calm down." America struggled. He flipped the Brit to where he was now the one on top. He removed the Brit's hands from his throat and pinned them down on either side of his head. England, still crimson red and screaming.
"Angleterre, Amerique~" a French accent said. They looked to the door to find France standing in the doorway of the bedroom, with an arched eyebrow and a devious smile.
"Get off of me!" England commanded and shoved America to the floor. He stood up straight. "France, this isn't what it looks like." England defended.
"Ohonhonhon, doesn't it? I just came over here because I heard yelling. Sorry to interrupt." France said and began walking out of the room.
The Brit lightly kicked the American on the floor, "Get up, git." He commanded, he headed for the door. America grumbled and struggled his way up. England opened the door, over his shoulder he coldly said, "By the way, we're getting a divorce as soon as possible."