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A Bar, Two Blonds, and a Secret
”Excuse me, sir, all of the wealth, power and status of the United States of America would like to buy you a drink.”
Arthur turned on his bar stool to glare at the red-cheeked, slightly swaying, smiling American standing behind him. What was wrong with Alfred (besides being very drunk)? Why was HE drunk and Arthur was not?? Why the fuck was he acting like this in public???
“What…precisely…do you think you are doing, you twit?” Arthur hissed at the clearly inebriated personification. “We are in public, at a pub, and you choose this time to get flirty with me??”
The sparkle in his blue (so blue!) eyes was not dimmed by England’s harsh words, even though those eyes had a little trouble focusing on the scowling blond with the gin and tonic. England was being responsible and dignified, even though it was the last day of the World Conference, held in Paris this time (which was precisely why Arthur was being circumspect in his drinking). The last time they’d held the meeting in France, and Arthur had gotten drunk at the end (which he usually did, in gratitude that he could finally leave France again), Alfred and Matthew had had to rescue him from the slimy clutches of the French personification, who was trying to drag him back to his residence so he could finally get back into those Saville Row trousers again. He shuddered at the thought of waking up in Francis’ bed (which he’d managed to avoid since Napoleon), hungover, terrified, angry and disgusted with himself. Never again would he leave himself vulnerable (and tits over arse drunk) in the center of Francis’ influence again.
“You just looked so adorb…arod…cute sitting there, I jus’ wanned to share a di…drink wi’ you, befooore” a slight belch interrupted his speech, “we go back t’the hotel an’ all depr…defar…go home tomorr’w.” , the handsome drunk managed to slur out before trying to put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, missing, and smacking into his leg instead. “Ooops, sorry, not tryin’ t’get handsy with you. Respect you too much f’that, n’besides you’d clean my clock if I tried,” he giggled, pulling himself upright and waving his hands in the air in a conciliatory fashion. The personification of England pinched the bridge of his nose as he blushed, sighed, finished his drink and stood up, making the tall American stagger back and almost fall into the table Germany and Italy were sitting at. “Hoshit, sorry guys, din’t mean to int’rruuuupt” another belch, this one slightly louder, “your li’l tet-aw-tet here; ain’t French a stupidly fancy language? I mean, really.” He hiccupped and giggled, waving his arms again. “What’s wrong wi’ just sayin’ date?” Germany immediately flushed bright red and began stammering out a denial, while Italy blushed and giggled, trying to take Ludwig’s hand as he waved them in denial.
Arthur grabbed Alfred’s arm, swiftly apologized, and as the American swiveled his head back toward the Brit (making himself tilt a bit), began to drag Alfred out the door. Luckily it was late spring, so they didn’t have to stop to grab any outerwear. As he wrapped his hands around the tall blond’s forearm (involuntarily squeezing the dense muscle there) and ignored the hoots and catcalls from some of the other countries present (especially that slimy Frog), England was grimly amused at the role reversal; usually it was America dragging his drunken arse out of somewhere and getting him back to his hotel to sober up. Alfred began to giggle and snuggle drunkenly up to Arthur, purring what he doubtless intended to be sweet nothings into his ear, which was mostly gibberish and snickers carried on a strongly-alcohol-laced breath. Luckily he’d taken the precaution to have a car and driver waiting from his embassy this time, with orders to NOT let him leave with anyone but Alfred. Just another layer of his self-protection from the…what was it Alfred called him on that one occasion? That was a good one…oh yes, “wine-swilling surrender monkey”. As he manhandled the American into the back seat and climbed in behind him, he snickered at the memory of the look on Francis’ face; he was used to such comments from Arthur, but not from Alfred. Alfred had been getting irritated at all of the comments (sexual and otherwise) that Francis had been deluging Arthur with, and between protective irritation and the jealousy he admitted to Arthur later, he’d stepped in with that comment, surprising everyone nearby (except for Matthew, who smirked) and moving Arthur away from him.
That had been one of the most embarrassing, and yet endearing, things Alfred had ever done, and when that was followed after the meeting with a confession of love, Arthur counted that as one of the best days of his long life. Now, with Alfred being taken to his room by Arthur, he felt the way he imagined the American had felt all of the times he’d done the same for him: irritation, affection, protectiveness, and a wish he had stayed sober.
As the driver merged with traffic, Arthur clipped Alfred’s seat belt ( mostly to keep him upright) and did up his own. Alfred was staring out of the back window, then when they were a block away, he straightened up, ran a hand through his hair, and smiled, all signs of drunkenness gone. “Well, that went better than I thought it would.” Arthur whipped his head around to stare in his face, taking in that statement and Alfred’s sudden sobriety.
“You…you bastard! That was all an ACT??? WHY??? What in the giant flying hells did you do THAT for? Everyone is going to think that you’re a lightweight when we’re drinking!” The smile that spread over Alfred’s face and the intelligence shining from his eyes gave the Brit the clue to realize the American’s plan. “You want the others to think that…you want them to underestimate your tolerance. You want them to get loose and relaxed around you and maybe let some things slip!” Arthur paused as Alfred nodded his head, gaped at him, then whispered “That’s genius!”
Alfred laughed, and said, “Well, maybe not genius, but it certainly helps. As long as they keep underestimating me, I can keep surprising them, and I’ll always have the upper hand.” Arthur began to smile, thinking of how many times over the decades he’d done things that didn’t make him look too bright, then he’d turn around and pull some clever deal or situation out of his pocket; the other nations would just shrug and say he was lucky (Russia would mumble something along the lines of God looking out for fools). Of course, not ALL of those times were deliberate, and sometimes the American had had to scramble to keep from having all hell break loose over his head, but overall it was a good strategy and worked for him.
Arthur began to laugh out loud, thinking of all of the looks and sounds they’d gotten from everyone …
…but then a thought struck him, he began to blush, and then hissed, “Why did you blither all of that…that…sentimental rubbish back there?? We’re trying to keep our relationship discreet, remember?” He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed it, thinking of all of the things he knew the others would say to him when they next had the chance, and grunted in irritation.
Alfred winced, but put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and said, “Sorry, but one of the things I heard tonight was the word spreading about us. I didn’t say anything!” he immediately protested, holding his hands up in denial, “and I know Mattie didn’t, but the word is out now. We can still be discreet, but I think we need to just respond with a “Yes, we’re in a relationship, no, we’re not going to talk about it, and any further discussion will be ignored.” Then when France starts up, we can just punch him as usual,” he finished. “And at least we’ve got a grace period before we have to see everyone again, with the next meeting being in three months. By the time that rolls around, most of them will have more important things on their minds.”
“Not Francis,” England snarled. “He’ll be calling and texting and harassing me non-stop. It was bad enough before, but this will ensure I’ll have to deal with even more trashy innuendos and smarmy suggestions.”
“Not to worry, babe,” Alfred said quietly, giving him a gentle hug. “I’d planned for this since the day you looked at me with those emerald eyes of yours and told me you felt the same. I wouldn’t leave you unprotected.” He leaned in to whisper in Arthur’s ear, “I can fix all of your devices to reroute any calls or messages from France to his boss! If he really needs to contact you,” he continued, smiling at Arthur’s look of surprise, “he’ll have to go through them, and not speak directly to you unless you want to. Most of the time he just calls to natter and tease, right?” At Arthur’s speechless nod, he continued, “Then you’ll have control over all of your communications with him for however long you want. And if you ever change your mind, it’ll be easy enough to make a master command to stop the program. AND, “ he finished, booping England’s nose as the Brit began to grin, “you can keep the program inactive and reactivate it any time you please.” The American leaned back a little with satisfaction. “I worked this program out myself, on my own computer, and it’s sealed behind every firewall I ever worked out to keep my own work out of everyone’s hands, including my own government’s. Any new developments I come up with, and I’m constantly working on it, will automatically update on your devices, and also send you an email and text to let you know about it.”
Arthur stared, grinning wider and wider, at Alfred and when he finished, he began to chuckle. “Well then, love,” he stated, leaning into Alfred’s arms, “I think you’ve covered everything. Would you like to grab your things and come stay in my hotel room for the night? I believe,” he said, low and sexy, “that I have a great deal of things to discuss with you, and it will probably take all night for me to make sure I’ve…thanked you…properly.” Alfred blushed as he smiled and quickly assented, and they drove off into the night.