Title: AMERICA OWNS A FUCKING SMOOTHIE BAR.
Pairing(s): Hospitality, good service, and flirting cannot be distinguished in this smoothie place.
Rating: PG13, probably, but that doesn't really limit it, now does it?
Summary: Shall I say it again? AMERICA OWNS A FUCKING SMOOTHIE BAR.
Alfred lovingly wiped the kitchen counter, the shiny linoleum--
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Comments 15
England pushed the door open and stepped inside, casting a curious glance around. The text message that he had received from America had only stated the place's address and a request to visit it without mention of what the location was or why his presence was desired. Looking around, it was quite clear that it was an establishment for refreshments... England made his way over to the counter and slid into one of the stools, taking a menu and glancing down it, not realising that it was America who stood behind the counter.
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The person took a seat across from him over the counter, and when America looked up, he couldn't help but grin.
"ARTIE~!" Alfred launched himself over the countertop, wrapping his arms around the other man.
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He had to raise one hand to steady America and used the other to grab the counter so that he wouldn't fall off his stool. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to be truely angry at the other. Especially when he shifted slightly and saw America's grin. Well, he could settle for mild annoyance.
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"HI, AMERICA," he practically shouted. He took one of the turtles off of his head, Antonio Jr., and set him on the counter as he sat down.
"HOW ARE YOU?" He asked with an idiotic grin on his face.
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"Spaaain~" Alfred grinned, only mildly distracted by the turtle walking across his countertop. It was.. just.. walking..?
"I'm good! Business is booming~.. unlike my economy," he mumbled as an afterthought.
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"Germany come on. America send me a text that I should come to this new smoothie bar."
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