[Fanfiction] For chibi_spork
Another drink disappears down Prussia’s throat, and England blinks blearily at him. The heavily fuzzed eyebrows draw together with some
effort, and Prussia pays no mind to it.
“Don’t’cha…. Don’t’cha think ye’ve… you’ve… had enough yet?” he slurs at Prussia who slams the beer glass onto the bar. The ring left on the counter earns a disapproving glare from the barmaid who is cleaning up for the night.
“You’re one to talk.” Prussia sneers, before turning to the barman. “Another.” The barman dutifully supplies him, sneaking a look towards the clock. Before Prussia has finished the bell has rang for last orders, and England refuses to allow him another one, as does the barman. England himself just drinks the rest of his pint quickly.
They stumble out the door together, leaning heavily on one another for support. Today they are out in the countryside, in one of England’s favourite pubs. It is miles away from the nearest town, and a small village lies to the side. The silence is thick and would be prohibitive were the pair not blind to it. And still… The first thing England does once he lets go of Prussia is check his phone, smirking at the message and firing off another one. Prussia barely notices the way the other sways.
Prussia frowns, as if disapproving of England having more of a life than him. In fact, he should show that idiot right now! The paler haired man pulls out his own phone, squinting and blinking blearily at the screen. The words dance and the world spins as he tries to concentrate, the thick fuzz of alcohol filling his head. Instead of doing something that would not end up disastrous, Prussia presses the number 2 button- speed dial for Austria.
The ringing is finally interrupted by a curt voice at the end of the rings. “What?”
“Österrich!” Prussia slurs, cheerfully. Far too cheerfully.
“Was there a reason you interrupted me at…” There is the sound of bed sheets sliding across one another and someone sitting up in the background, which Prussia assumes is Austria. It’s far enough away to be muffled by poor cell quality, “1 am, drunk?”
Prussia pauses a moment, England is giving him a strange, bleary look. “Of course not! Just thought you should know how the awesome- Hey wait! I’m not… I’m not drunk at all!”
A short, barked and forced sound of laughter comes from the other end of the phone. “I’m going to hang up. Don’t call me back, Prussia.” The tone is serious and Austria seems to be waiting for a moment for Prussia to say what is needed.
“Hey, wait! Iloveyou.”
It is too late and the empty dialling tone sounds for a moment, before the cell phone beeps forlornly from low battery.
“We’re all just players in this game.” England has his arm thrown around Prussia in a remarkable drunk display of affection, the words of a wise drunk. Austria would consider it an oxymoron, but Prussia is not thinking of Austria now, aside from the nagging empty feeling that he’s never really gotten over.
The pale German turns to face the road that he presumes leads them to where they are staying. “What game? I’m perfectly happy as I am, I don’t need a game.” The shaking voice belies the truth.
England lets go, and stares down the road. “Wrong way, we’re uphill.”
“No, we’re downhill.”
“I know this town better than you!”
“But we came up a hill to get here!”
“Don’t try and confuse me!”
Both storm off in a different direction- Prussia is a mile down the road before England comes running up from behind, puffing and panting.
“So?”
“Sod off you albino brat.”
Prussia lets out a bitter laugh and just keeps walking.
NOTES:
-Imagine that all this is carried out in drunkspeak. Eg, “O’course no’! Jussssss th’gh ya shhhhhhould know… know h-*hiccup*-how th’awesssssome- Hey, waaaiiii’! M’no’… M’not drrrruunk t’aaall!”
… Not only is this incomprehensible but it’s a horror to type every sentence in.
-I’m sorry I was aiming for fluffy and sweet and slightly funny, but it just DID NOT HAPPEN.
-Also I'm really sorry there was a lot less Prussia/Austria than I would have liked to have written for you. I can't help but see Prussia and England as fail!drinking bros though.
-Enjoy I guess?
effort, and Prussia pays no mind to it.
“Don’t’cha…. Don’t’cha think ye’ve… you’ve… had enough yet?” he slurs at Prussia who slams the beer glass onto the bar. The ring left on the counter earns a disapproving glare from the barmaid who is cleaning up for the night.
“You’re one to talk.” Prussia sneers, before turning to the barman. “Another.” The barman dutifully supplies him, sneaking a look towards the clock. Before Prussia has finished the bell has rang for last orders, and England refuses to allow him another one, as does the barman. England himself just drinks the rest of his pint quickly.
They stumble out the door together, leaning heavily on one another for support. Today they are out in the countryside, in one of England’s favourite pubs. It is miles away from the nearest town, and a small village lies to the side. The silence is thick and would be prohibitive were the pair not blind to it. And still… The first thing England does once he lets go of Prussia is check his phone, smirking at the message and firing off another one. Prussia barely notices the way the other sways.
Prussia frowns, as if disapproving of England having more of a life than him. In fact, he should show that idiot right now! The paler haired man pulls out his own phone, squinting and blinking blearily at the screen. The words dance and the world spins as he tries to concentrate, the thick fuzz of alcohol filling his head. Instead of doing something that would not end up disastrous, Prussia presses the number 2 button- speed dial for Austria.
The ringing is finally interrupted by a curt voice at the end of the rings. “What?”
“Österrich!” Prussia slurs, cheerfully. Far too cheerfully.
“Was there a reason you interrupted me at…” There is the sound of bed sheets sliding across one another and someone sitting up in the background, which Prussia assumes is Austria. It’s far enough away to be muffled by poor cell quality, “1 am, drunk?”
Prussia pauses a moment, England is giving him a strange, bleary look. “Of course not! Just thought you should know how the awesome- Hey wait! I’m not… I’m not drunk at all!”
A short, barked and forced sound of laughter comes from the other end of the phone. “I’m going to hang up. Don’t call me back, Prussia.” The tone is serious and Austria seems to be waiting for a moment for Prussia to say what is needed.
“Hey, wait! Iloveyou.”
It is too late and the empty dialling tone sounds for a moment, before the cell phone beeps forlornly from low battery.
“We’re all just players in this game.” England has his arm thrown around Prussia in a remarkable drunk display of affection, the words of a wise drunk. Austria would consider it an oxymoron, but Prussia is not thinking of Austria now, aside from the nagging empty feeling that he’s never really gotten over.
The pale German turns to face the road that he presumes leads them to where they are staying. “What game? I’m perfectly happy as I am, I don’t need a game.” The shaking voice belies the truth.
England lets go, and stares down the road. “Wrong way, we’re uphill.”
“No, we’re downhill.”
“I know this town better than you!”
“But we came up a hill to get here!”
“Don’t try and confuse me!”
Both storm off in a different direction- Prussia is a mile down the road before England comes running up from behind, puffing and panting.
“So?”
“Sod off you albino brat.”
Prussia lets out a bitter laugh and just keeps walking.
NOTES:
-Imagine that all this is carried out in drunkspeak. Eg, “O’course no’! Jussssss th’gh ya shhhhhhould know… know h-*hiccup*-how th’awesssssome- Hey, waaaiiii’! M’no’… M’not drrrruunk t’aaall!”
… Not only is this incomprehensible but it’s a horror to type every sentence in.
-I’m sorry I was aiming for fluffy and sweet and slightly funny, but it just DID NOT HAPPEN.
-Also I'm really sorry there was a lot less Prussia/Austria than I would have liked to have written for you. I can't help but see Prussia and England as fail!drinking bros though.
-Enjoy I guess?