You had been attempting to enjoy a quiet night, curled up on the couch with a book you’d just recently bought and a nice cup of tea. Just as you took a seat on the couch in the living room and opened your book, a light rain began to patter on the window, making everything seem calm. Then, you felt your cellphone vibrate in your pocket. Pulling it out, you groaned once you read the number. It was Alfred F. Jones, better known as America. You really didn’t want to deal with his idiocy…and why on earth would he be texting you close to bloody midnight?! Oh, there you went again. You sighed and shook your head. You’d been spending a bit too much time around England lately. Flipping open your phone you groaned again, even louder this time, upon reading the message.
‘Hey (y/n), Iggy is SUUUPER drunk and im buzy tnight. Im pickin you up and u cn watch Iggy for the night at his place, kk?’*
You set your book down on the table in front of you and pinched the bridge of your nose. So much for your peaceful night. You really didn’t like dealing with Arthur when he was drunk, it was an experience you could really live without. Sadly, your thick-headed American friend was more stubborn than a mule and really didn’t understand the concept of a ‘peaceful night reading’ so there was no way you’d be able to talk yourself out of caring for the Englishman unless you were sick.
True to his word, Alfred arrived a few minutes later, ringing your doorbell at least seventeen times before you actually answered it…and the couch was across from the door. Sighing softly, you opened the door and crossed your arms, staring at the widely grinning, and soaked, American in front of you.
“Alfred,” you started, your voice showing that you were by no means pleased about this. He seemed to wince at your tone, only slightly, before brightening back up.
“C’mon, (y/n), please~?” He begged, giving you that puppy dog look, his glasses falling down to the end of his nose to show his big blue eyes perfectly, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. Dammit…not ‘the look’. You couldn’t do say no when he gave you THAT look. You then began your attempt to block out that puppy dog face.
“No, Alfred.” You said, hating how your voice wavered slightly. He continued to give you that look.
“I said no!” You said stubbornly, stomping your foot, hoping to intimidate the American, or at least show him that you weren’t budging. His face remained frozen in that stare.
“Alfred…N-N…FINE!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms up in defeat.
“Yay!!” He yelled and flung his arms around you, pulling you into a nearly bone crushing hug. Sadly, he didn’t know his own strength. Also, he must’ve forgotten he was dripping wet from the rain, which had by now become a down pour.
“C-Can’t…breathe…” You wheezed against his chest. He pulled away immediately, rubbing the back of his head and chuckling nervously.
“Heh heh…Sorry, I don’t know my own strength.” He muttered, a crooked grin plastered on his face when he looked at you. Once you finally got air back into your crushed lungs, you glared weakly at him.
“I figured that much…Just watch it next time, okay?” You asked, wringing out the side of your white PJ shirt. Then, you noticed America was blushing lightly and…staring at you.
“What is it you bloody git?!” You yelled after a minute of just seeing him stare at you.
“Uh…(y/n)…I can see through your shirt.” He mumbled quietly. You looked down and your eyes widened. Right then, you thanked your lucky stars that you’d forgotten to take your bra off. Then, you realized he’d been STARING AT YOUR BOOBS. Even if you were wearing a bra, that was completely improper! Grabbing the book from nearby, you brought the spine of it down on his head* and the book was by no means small. Over four hundred pages to be exact. Then, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs to change your PJ shirt. You slipped on a black one, not wanting to put a white one on and have it soaked by the rain, before going back downstairs.
You saw Alfred, who had by now stepped inside and out of the rain, rubbing his head and attempting to fix Nantucket, since your book had pretty much flattened it. You couldn’t help but giggle at the tiny, childish frown that was on Alfred’s face as he pet the crushed piece of hair and attempted to get it to stand back up. He always spoke about being the hero and saving the day but, in reality, Alfred was still just one big kid. He glanced over at you when you giggled and shrunk back a bit, scared of you bringing the book down on his head again.
“Okay, so where is our favorite Brit?” You asked, the book still tightly clutched in your left hand while you twirled a bit of your (h/l) (h/c) around your index finger nervously. Alfred nodded toward the car.
“In there, I think he passed out on the way here in the middle of one of his rants about me being an idiot.” You sighed loudly and shut your eyes for a moment. Great, he passed out…which meant that you had to carry him into the house and into his room. How were you going to accomplish that? You still had no clue…Opening your eyes again, you grabbed an umbrella from by the door and stepped outside, opening it quickly. Alfred also took refuge under the umbrella. Once you reached his car, he unlocked the doors and you both quickly got in, you closing the umbrella as you sat down.
The drive to Arthur’s home was awkwardly quiet but thankfully short. Once you did reach his house, the rain was coming down so hard that the umbrella would be torn to shreds by the wind if you tried to open it out there.
“Oh bloody hell.” You cursed loudly, glancing back at the passed out Brit in back. Then, you looked over at Alfred.
“You,” you said, jabbing your index finger into his coat, “are going to help me get him inside.”
“What?! Look at how hard it’s coming down out there!” He shouted, gesturing at the windsheild where the water droplets were pounding mercilessly against the glass.
“I don’t care,” you hissed. “I didn’t want to do this but you forced me to, so whether you like it or not, you’re going to help me get him inside!” You yelled, causing America to wince, both at how loud your voice was and what he’d imagined the rain would do to his clothes.
“Fine,” he mumbled, sticking his lower lip out in a pout. You smirked smugly before unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car, just as Alfred did. Then, the two of you worked together to get Arthur into his home and onto the couch. That was as far as Alfred was going to carry him since he had to get home to change into some dry clothes.
You were also soaked to the bone, as well as Arthur. You shivered terribly from the feeling of your cold, wet clothes sticking to your body. Thankfully, you had some clothes left over here from the time that Arthur had taken you in for a few weeks, until you got a job and managed to move out. He’d been so nice about it and never complained…A tiny smile grazed your lips at the memory before you bolted up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. Going into the bottom drawer of the dresser in there, you found a pair of grey sweatpants and a large, dark green pajama shirt. You quickly took off your wet clothes and then carried them downstairs to the dryer.
It was then that you noticed England’s clothes were also soaked. You couldn’t just leave him like that…he’d get sick! Biting you lower lip, a rosy blush spread on your cheeks as you walked over and took off his white shirt and his pants, leaving him in only his boxers…Even though they’d been soaked you were NOT going to take them off… Thankfully, during all this, he hadn’t woken up…If he’d woken up and seen you, well…Talk about awkward.
You then grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over him, then attempted to wrap it as tightly around the Brit as you could. You really didn’t want him to get sick; you would’ve felt terrible if he did! Then, you took the dripping wad of clothes and put them in the dryer. After all this, the energy you’d had previously suddenly drained away, leaving you yawning and rubbing your eyes. You sluggishly made your way upstairs and then collapsed on the guest bed with a sigh, pulling the blanket over your body before letting yourself succumb to sleep.
- Le Time Skip –
The next morning, you woke up sluggishly, your (e/c) eyes glancing over at the clock next to the bed. You groaned loudly when you read the numbers on the display.
For some people, that wasn’t ‘early’ but for you, any time before noon was too early. You were just about to go back to sleep when you heard Arthur’s horrified yell from the bathroom nextdoor.
“What the bloody hell happened to me?!”
Your eyes snapped open and you flung the covers off your body, running toward the bathroom. Your feet slid on the wood floor as your stopped and, when you realized what was wrong with Arthur, you stood there, gaping at him. On top of his head, he had fluffy, creamy white cat ears that poked up from his blond hair. On the one to the right, there was a bit of a brownish splotch on it. Then, he had a long tail that poked out from the top of his boxers.
He turned to you slowly, a look of absolute horror in his green eyes. Green met (e/c) as you both stared at each other for a long minute.
Finally you managed to get your voice to work.
“A-Arthur? What did you do?”