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- Fuck, my head... -England grumbled, while trying to sit and wake up.
He stretched, trying to push away the terrible headache produced by the hangover –that reminded to him the extreme last night. There we go again; a horrible ache attacked his poor head again, causing him to shrink in pain. He clicked the tongue.
He couldn't remember anything.
Suffering from the remaining alcohol in his organism, he –hardly- stood and looked around. Sighing in relief, he concluded that this was his hotel room, so at least he reached it in one piece and didn't slept over in some ditch.
Entering the bathroom he looked to his reflection in the mirror. He looked as horrible as he actually felt inside, and was pretty obvious that he had gotten drunk until he had passed away. He sighed again, his headache intensified every time he barely tried to remember the last night.
Then, trying to figure out something, he looked at his body. He was totally naked –even if he never slept that way-, so he could possibly say he had passed the night in company. He also could say that he had gotten into some fight due to the little and dispersed wounds he could find all along his arms and torso. That didn't surprise him; he normally picked those fights on purpose, preferably with drunken idiots like his brother Scotland, the frog or the odious deutsche.
He took a shower and rapidly got into his meeting suit in order to get prepared for the meeting that was going to be held that morning. He tried to remember something again, only to be attacked by a new wave of punctures to the head.
He gave up, and left the room.
{ . . . }
When he first landed on the building where the meeting was going to be held, he felt something estrange right away. It looked like all the eyes were on him, and like if the nations were murmuring things about him.
He tried to look serious and impassive, but when he noticed the rare attitude of America, he couldn't help but ask.
- What's going on?
The United States froze and looked back to him, nervous. – You don't remember?
England grumbled; frowning his famous and enormous eyebrows. – I don't. I really don't have a clue of what in the hell could have I done to create this atmosphere! –he suddenly sighed, and said, in a very low volume-. Tell me. Was I that bad?
Question that had a remarkable effect on the other country, that nearly started laughing.
- You were absolutely insane, man! I hadn't seen you that way since you were a pirate and were currently drunk of whisky or Ron. –he said, giving friendly punches to the older-. Last night you were pretty aggressive and susceptible, you drove yourself mad pretty easy, too. You broke lots of glasses, bottles and wooden chairs, and even Germany, Denmark and Sweden couldn't afford to stop you.
England massaged his temples. – That sounds hard.
Japan entered the room, and the two of them immediately greeted him.
He smiled at them. – Ohayo gosaimasu for you too, America-san, Igirisu-san. –he said back, looking right to England a moment later-. Do you feel better this morning, Igirisu-san? Last night you looked troubled by the alcohol...
Shaking his head, he slowly laughed in a professional and a bit ashamed way. – I'm sorry for showing that part of me so extremely this time, Japan. I can barely remember anything.
That last confession made Japan freeze. – You don't remember anything?
Hearing the same question again annoyed the ached man a little. – I really don't. What's so bad about it? I don't think I did nothing far from the usual. –after this statement, America sweated a bit.
- That's... not...
- Ah, true. I got a chick this time, I can tell that far. –England expressed, and then the other two got pale. They suddenly quieted, kind of uncomfortable.
He clearly noticed that.
- 'Cause I did found a chick, didn't I?
The other two looked at each other with a confidential and concerned look in their eyes.
- That's... not completely wrong, I guess. –America commented, suspicious. England started to lose his patience.
- I've woken up naked and with this... "satisfaction" that the body has after having a good-sex evening, you know what I mean?
Japan's face suddenly became extra red and started steaming from the nose like a excited bull. He looked overheated and extremely shy about it, and England didn't get a thing.
America, awkward, touched the back of his head uncomfortably laughing. – Why don't you ask about that and the rest of the night to someone else...? –and pointing to some place, announced-. He can probably help you better.
England thought that all of that was pretty odd. And it became even odder when he followed the pointed direction and found out the depreciable frog there. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Was it a joke? He looked again to the former direction and the other two had faded. They weren't there, and the rest of the people in the room still looked at him and murmured, making the situation even estranger for moments.
It looked like he didn't have a choice. If he wanted to know what was the matter, why all the people was acting so suspicious and who it was this mysterious nation he put in his bed last night, he had to go and ask France for an explanation. A grimy feat that would have to be accomplished if he wanted to know that truth he didn't even remember.
He then leaded the way towards the naughty Frenchie.
{ . . .}
When France felt the aggressive touch of someone on his shoulder, he actually felt the shiver that came with it. He knew who it was even before turning around.
- What can I do for you, my most appreciated neighbour? –he had said, uneasy for some reason.
- Don't give me the stupid shit and talk. I want to hear everything.
France tried to remain calmed. – Everything about what my friend?
- Don't act as if you knew nothing! About last night. Last N-I-G-H-T. I'm giving you five seconds to speak. –and that created the same well-known answer.
- Wait a moment. Are you seriously telling me that you don't remember?
And that made England furious.
- That's true, I DON'T REMEMBER! What with it!? This has happened thousands times before, I don't get why-
- That's the problem, mon ami. This time you've crossed the line.
- What?
And at that very moment, when the door opened again and a new group of nations came inside, England instinctively noticed a single one of them, as his heart stopped for a second and a vortex of memories fell upon him like an elated waterfall.
In the middle of a fight he saw a certain person and started provoking him into the fight. He succeeds. They punched and kicked each other, and verbal insults flew between them rapidly. He likes to say to him "Invincible armada" ironically while grinning, while the other calls him "eyebrow bastard" with a perfectly pronounced Spanish accent. This detail, in extreme, made him lose his control and fell and fell into his locked emotions.
His apple-like green eyes opened a little bit more, at the same time France's voice said. – You picked up a fight with Spain on purpose. You were very drunk and started acting like the little punk pirate you were centuries ago. –and he knew, he remembered that.
And more.
More memories were coming to him.
It was him, nearly laid over Spain, who was damning in Spanish. He had always known, but he found those insults so damn hot that he couldn't help but stare at his face, hypnotized. The dark green eyes that sparkled with the color of alcohol looked back at him and he knew he was lost. He won the fight, like years ago, but the war was dominated by the other. He was irremediably charmed by the Spaniard, like always, like ever.
Before even knowing it, he was kneeling down and leading both of the other's hands to his lips. He then, completely serene even in his drunken position, said it.
"Marry me, Spain."
- You did ask him to marry you, England. To another nation. In front of everyone. –France continued, clearly anxious about it-. This is pretty serious, I bet you know it very well. –he looked concerned, but serious too-. Marrying by our own is completely forbidden between us, nations. Also, this is Spain we're talking about, you're his archenemy. This was a shock for all of us, even if I'd known for a long time that you're to the bone for him...
- W-what are you talking about!? T-this is... a drunken episode, that wasn't me. I truly don't...
- Don't even try to justify yourself. Onii-san knows pretty well the truth.
England burned in anger, but didn't deny anything, preferring to inquire into his memory to take out the rest.
But he couldn't. He couldn't go on and remember the rest.
That's why, embarrassed to the quick, looked away for a moment and lowly said. – And what?
France didn't understand him. – "What" what? –making England more awkward.
- What did Spain... -he coughed in his hand, and looked away again-. ...answer?
The French smile extended a bit, while his eyes closed and shrugged.
- He froze for a moment, and then he ran away.
- WHAT!? That's all!?
- I personally was waiting for a slap or a kick to the gut too, but that was the only thing he did after such a confession.
- I'm killing you right know if you don't shut up, you condemned frog-
But before feeling the freezing sensation of the English punch, France showed his bare hands and nearly screamed. – But you quickly ran after him, so I assume the party went on in another place...! -what England had already assumed. He clicked his tongue.
He let France go, while frowning.
- I can't... remember.
The other crossed his arms, a few feet of security away. He commented. – If you don't remember a thing, the other person that certainly knows what happened then is over there. –pointing that way with his chin.
And in the end of that way there he was.
Spain.
- If you want to know everything, he's your man.
Edgy, England couldn't help swallowing.
...
But, then, he started walking forward.
Till reaching the place in which Spain was sitting. Spain was talking to South Italy and Belgium, relaxed. He hawked in order of calling for his attention.
- Spain.
The man froze for a brief moment. Then he faced him, with the same neutral face he always had around him.
- Inglaterra.
England couldn't take his gaze apart from the other's eyes, which looked at him directly. His heart started beating at the same time his memory started functioning.
He didn't know what to say.
He then noticed Spain looked as awful as himself –result of the hangover- and decided starting an easy conversation. – How are you? You don't look so good. –he said, trying to be nice.
And he immediately regret saying that when the beautiful green eyes looked away and Spain smiled with a fake smile of courtesy.
- I'm a little bit sore. You know, I'm not very used to taking it from the back, so now I'm suffering taking it that hard last night... -he said, calmed, while England's eyes opened like plates and the new wave of memories hit him in the face.
Spain's voice. His own rudeness while kissing the other and throwing him into his bed. The hands that touched him and pulled his hair in ecstasy. The well-built tanned body that moved under his touch. The necessity in every word and ask from both parts, the green eyes that looked into each other before England devoured the other's mouth with anxiety. The bruises and bite marks that he expanded all along his perfect neck. The pleasure and delight that filtrated in every part of his skin and soul. The words he had said to him in a desperate prayer in his ear...
After remembering going all the way, the red became the predominant colour in his face, reaching to paint his pale neck and ears too. He exploded like a steam engine, absolutely embarrassed after remembering how, after following Spain out of the party room, they screamed at each other, anger started transforming into passion, and end up making out in his hotel room.
After remembering the previous scenes with France he had thought in the possibility that Spain had been that mysterious night partner he had had, that's true.
But having it suggested so roughly by Spain himself and, afterwards, remembering each moan and prayer, had been another history.
He stared, nearly in panic, at those pine eyes intensely. Right after, he coughed. – We were very drunk. –he only said, trying to avoid that charming gaze-. I was drunk.
Spain's eyes momently looked shadowed. But he maintained his fake and polite smile with honour and made his response calmed. – Yeah. You truly were drunk. I know better than thinking things that cannot be.
This last statement shocked England's awareness.
He had known this man who used to be an empire for a long, long time. He had even been, once, married to him; even if it was pathetically short and then leaded to war. So, given this situation, he knew lots of things about him; lots and lots. And one of them, very important, was that Spain hadn't been made to be a good liar.
He acted polite every time because he had always been very controlled by his government; like at this time, when his eyes trembled with disgust and another kind of emotion while his mouth pressed calmed words out. But he also knew better than that. He could read it as clear as the water.
That's why he extended his hand to trap Spain's wrist.
That action annoyed the other, apparently.
– What do you think you're doing? Let me go. –England didn't settle him free, though. He, on the contrary, held him more firmly.
- I don't want to.
What looked like annoyance suddenly became anger in the Spaniard. He nearly shouted. – What are you playing at, England? Haven't you have enough just by getting conveniently drunk and saying what you've wanted? –he separated his wrist from his touch and stood up violently-. I've had enough of your childish game, you hear me? Go joke elsewhere!
And started walking out of the room. A déjà vu from last night.
England didn't understand it very well, but his headache became worse when he disappeared from his sight. An uncompressible pain went through his chest too, creating a huge hole that took the breath out of his lungs.
He, then, ran after him, under the nearly funny gaze of certain Frenchman -that had been observing since the beginning- and the rest of the confused and uncomfortable nations.
{ . . . }
Once out, he targeted Spain at a certain distance and called out for him, screaming all kind of things that popped out in his mind.
- I'm sorry okay? I didn't want last night's party to become like that for any of us, I too wasn't aiming for that, you know? –even trying to hide his sickness after that typical tsundere attitude of his-. I guess it must have been impressive to receive that kind of attentions from me being you, but don't get a hard time, it's only a coincidence, a bad choice! I didn't meant it to happen and didn't feel what it looked. A simple accident, so let's forget it, okay!? –Spain didn't stop.
But he did say something, with voice calm as ice.
- You're a coward, England. –he had said, sufficiently high to let the named hear it. Then, he shouted-. I shall forget this now so, please, let me go. We'll never talk 'bout this again so you don't have to worry about this... slip again.
After hearing that England froze, even if Spain didn't notice and went on letting the other man behind-. Are you satisfied with that? I just want this comedy to end so we can quickly go back to ignoring each other...!
But England couldn't hear anymore.
It's true. He was a coward.
He had known it since ever. Even it was clear for people like the tedious frog. He was simply afraid; afraid of letting the truth out, of saying what he really thought and of freely feeling what he actually felt. Afraid of saying sober the overwhelming truths that he could only afford to let out while drunk. Afraid of doing at the daylight what he only had managed to perform under the cover of the night. Afraid of opening his heart and feeling alive once and for all.
Afraid of being rejected.
And now, while being actually rejected thanks to being a coward, he wasn't, for the first time in his long lifetime, frightened of being audacious.
He started taking a step forward, and then a second one, and then he started running for the nearly lost target. While running towards him, he cried out for him to notice.
For him to listen what he had to say.
- I've always been proud of my eloquent chat and talent for making convoluted conversations; I bet you know it pretty well! But now ... I'm going to let that apart to openly and frankly say what I want. I'm so sick of lying...! I have to tell you... -and stopped, leading his hand to his chest firm and gloriously.
- I love you! –he shouted, in the middle of the corridors, his voice hard and decided as thunder-. You hear me? I'm absolutely in love with you!! Since ever! What I did to you last night was my inner me expressing what my coward self couldn't. –at some point, Spain had stopped and was standing still without facing him. But England didn't care anymore. He started walking-. I can't deny it anymore, I'm crazy about you! It's all clear to me now. And I would love repeating what we did yesterday again and again, but totally conscious this time!
And stepping way closer, he even dared to scream. – And I know you love me too!
That made the teared up man to turn around and face him. – How can you be so shamele-...!
- Now that I'm saying everything that's been hidden from the world I don't pretend to maintain polite. You love me. As well as I do. You can't negate it because, even if you try to convince me, your eyes always betray you. You're enamoured.
- So what! –he suddenly broke-. You like playing with me? We're old enough to know that this isn't anything but a play. A tragicomedy!
- Marry me, Spain.
So green eyes paused.
Spain's shock wasn't as yesterday's but, anyways, he did maintain quiet for a while.
Then, he said. – You must be kidding.
- I am not. –England replied.
- I don't believe you.
- A great decision, I must admit.
- God will certainly not accept this.
- I've always been kind of heretic, anyway.
- You think you're witty, isn't it?
- I usually like to think it, to be sincere.
- Oh, just shut up! You put me on my nerves with so much paraphernalia! –he said, and directly looked at England-. Do you love or not?
A pretty rare smile crossed the English face like a phantom, and the he spoke.
– I'm suddenly not ashamed of saying it out loud, my lord. I do. I love you thousands. –and Spain rolled eyes.
- Quit the roleplay and kiss me then, you silly brat! –he complained, blushing for moments-. You've taken your time to admit it.
Getting close, blushing the same amount, England couldn't do anything but complain in a non-sincere way. – C-could you stop with that? I could reconsider kissing you if you-
A hand getting his way all along his nape and a pair of lips closing against his made him finally shut up.
Then, he melt while his arms passed through the waist and back of the other man there, who couldn't help but murmur Spanish words against his lips that made England's heart beat faster, while passing his arms around the others neck. Tanned hands locking blonde hair.
He had been sick this morning. Sick thanks to the alcohol in his veins, and later sick of lying.
He was now getting sick again.
Absolutely lovesick.