acatwhowrites: (Default)
A Cat Who Writes ([personal profile] acatwhowrites) wrote2010-12-24 02:25 am

[Fanfic] I Never Kissed You

Title: I Never Kissed You; one-shot
Fandom: Hetalia
Genre: general, au, school life, longing
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): human names, AU, alcohol, brief swearing
This is a prompt from [ profile] usxuk for the Secret Santa exchange written for [ profile] jade_rzeznic. Initially, I was planning on a different prompt, but I ended up with less time than anticipated, so I couldn't do it.

Next best thing: college alternate universe. I may have taken more liberty than acceptable, but I think I stuck with the general prompt.

I ended up rushing, anyway. I managed to lose my plot somewhere in the middle, and it kinda dribbled to something of a close many many words later.

The games mentioned are real drinking games. "I never..." is basically a game where a group of however many people take turns saying something they're never done. Whomever haven't done it drink; the ones who have don't...

I Never Kissed You

The barn had been renovated from its initial purpose of sheltering farm animals to hosting college parties. It was ideally located nearly the same distance from each of the four sister colleges and was far enough away from any town that no one cared about the size of the turnout.

It was the last evening before Christmas break officially began. A few students had left early to return to their families for holiday preparations, but many remained for the greatly-anticipated party. People arrived by the busload and cars, mostly sober.

Multicoloured Christmas lights and silver garland surrounded the cavernous room, clinging to the ceiling rafters with nails. Green garland arched over every doorway while wide red ribbon spun around the main supports in an imitation of candy canes. Fake snow was piled in various spots, complete with snowfolk and shovels. Some students, already wasted, laid in the chemical snow replication and made demented snow angels.

“Whoever oversaw decorating really went all-out.” Sophomore Alfred F. Jones, affectionately called Al by friends and Mr. Jones by teachers, marvelled at the holiday features from his stance just inside in the side door. It was even heated inside, warm enough that Alfred shrugged out of his bomber jacket and tossed it onto the growing pile of coats in front of the door.

“Hey, Al! Al! You made it!” The sophomore was tackled in a hug by Feliciano Vargas, a junior. His seemingly constant companion, a quiet German, hovered nearby with two beers in his hands. If Feliciano had held onto his, Alfred would’ve been doused in Miller Lite. “Buon Natale!”

“You’re early, Feli,” Alfred laughed, wrapping the Italian in a friendly bear hug.

“I won’t see you on Christmas. I’m going home with my brother! Ludwig’s coming with me, too! His family’s on vacation, so he’s coming with me, and Gilbert’s going to Roderich’s.”

“Aw, dude. That should nice.” Alfred looked at Ludwig, who simply nodded. He’s not much of a talker, sometimes, Alfred thought. Releasing Feliciano, who then returned to his “spot” beside Ludwig, Alfred looked through the crowds of students for other familiar faces. “Is Mattie here?”

“No…he went home already, I think,” Feliciano responded. Even a single drink from his beer seemed to make him tipsy, and he leaned heavily on Ludwig. He excused them both, saying Feliciano needed to sit.

Alfred mingled with various groups, chatting and laughing with friends and people he didn’t know. It was amazing how many people managed to fit in the barn, and things were made interesting by different games, mostly involving alcohol. Those who didn’t arrive drunk ended up at some level of intoxication from the many rounds of beer pong, horse races, and landmine that students started. Alfred managed to avoid being iced a few times thanks to stepping out of the way before being challenged.

He mingled on the outside of a game that sounded similar to “truth or dare” taking place at the corner bar that had been constructed. Six people were seated, each with a drink in front of them. Alfred caught the statement of a brown-haired boy at the corner of the counter.

“Never have I ever,” he began “seen a fairy.”

Three of the six immediately drank, but two blondes seated side-by-side remained stoic.

As the game progressed, the choice of drink changed, and soon it was decided that the game should end. The winner received the leftover booze and stumbled outside to celebrate his victory by vomiting in the snow.

The crowd dispersed, and Alfred took a vacated seat. Toris Lorinaitis, the student who played bartender, offered him a drink, but Alfred waved it away. “I have to drive; I’m trying to keep my record clean so my dad doesn’t stop giving me money for school.” Toris smiled and produced a can of Coca-Cola from beneath the counter.

Before Alfred could pop the tab, something pushed against his arm. One of the boys who played “I never” had apparently fallen into a drunken stupor and was sliding out of his seat without realizing it. Setting his soda out of the way, Alfred picked the boy up by his forearms, standing to set him upright. He moaned at the sudden movement. It was too fast for his sloshed brain to handle. “Bloody…fucking…hell…” he murmured and pushed his face into his arms.

Alfred didn’t know him. “Toris, who is this?”

Toris walked around the counter, shrugging into his coat. “He’s from the North school, a transfer. I think his name’s Arthur.” He pulled a hat and gloves from his pocket. “Francis is rooming with him.”

“Okay… You leaving now?”

“I have to; otherwise Feliks will be sick until New Years.”

“Alright then; Merry Christmas, man. See you next year.” Alfred thumped his friend on the shoulder. Toris grinned and disappeared into the thinning crowd to gather his friend before he started hallucinating ponies in the empty stalls.

For some reason Alfred felt responsible for Arthur. He didn’t even know the boy, but he seemed to be alone, and if he was as drunk as he seemed, then he would never make it home without help. He probably can’t even walk, Alfred noted. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, the sophomore looked around the barn for Francis Bonnefoy.

He spotted him intimately sharing one of the sofas with a brunette girl. Slowly backing away from Arthur, willing him not to fall off his chair, Alfred walked across the wooden floor, sidestepping groups and staggering students.

“Hey. Fan...” Alfred nudged the blonde with his arm. After a few more nudges—during which he was blatantly ignored—Francis finally broke apart from the girl and sighed exasperatedly.

“What is it; can you not see I am busy?”

“Your room mate’s trashed… Oh, hi Liz; I thought you were dating Roderich.” The young woman’s gaze dropped, and Francis interjected, saving her from having to answer.

“He is what?”

“He’s drunk.”

“So are most of the people in this room. What do you want me to do about it?”

Do…” Do what? Tell him to stop drinking? Send him home? “Something?” Alfred finished lamely.

Francis shifted in his seat to face Alfred. “I have already checked out of the dorms; I’m flying home tonight. Arthur is there until tomorrow morning; he is not my problem.”

“What’m I supposed to do?” Alfred sighed and blew his bangs off his forehead. Liz put her hand on his.

“Hey, why don’t you keep him company? Make sure he doesn’t get in a fight or something. He really likes you; I’ve heard him talk about you a few times,” she said.

“Really?” For some reason he couldn’t stop the colour that tinged the tips of his ears and back of his neck. He rubbed his neck awkwardly.

Liz smiled and hummed. “You should talk to him. He’s only a year ahead of you; maybe you’ll be friends.” Francis kissed her neck, annoyed with waiting through their chat. She giggled and flinched, which only prompted the man to tease behind her ear, whispering in French. Slightly sickened, Alfred waved and shuffled back to the bar.

Arthur had managed to stay somewhat upright, although he was slouching so much his seat had scooted back a few inches. Alfred tapped his shoulder. “Hey. Arthur.”


“Dude, wake up. I’m going to take you to your room.” He didn’t respond to any amount of tapping or nudging, choosing to mumble and bury his face into his arms. “Dude… If you don’t wake up, I’ll carry you.” Arthur still ignored him, and Alfred groaned. Why am I even bothering? he wondered.

Ludwig passed him, carrying a sleeping Feliciano against his chest. “What happened to him?”

The blonde man paused briefly. “He cannot handle any alcohol but wine,” he stated. Three beers plus sips from Ludwig’s had been too much for the smaller Italian, but he was happy snuggling into Ludwig’s warmth. Alfred frowned in sympathy but laughed. The duo left, and Alfred returned his attention to the passed out Brit sliding further and further away from the counter.

“Whoops!” The sophomore caught him before his chin could strike the counter. Arthur was surprisingly heavy but not unmanageable. He grabbed his neglected can of Coke and readjusted his hold on the junior. “Alright, since you’re here,” Alfred mumbled to the deadweight “we’re going to go for a walk.”

It wasn’t so much a walk as a drag. Arthur seemed unwilling to use his legs at all. Feeling annoyed, Alfred touched the soda can to the back of Arthur’s neck. He jumped, rearing back in surprise. “Bloody hell!” He squinted at Alfred, a deep frown tugging his thick brows into a vee. “Whut the hellzat fer, wanker?”

“I was making sure you’re alive! I’d hate to leave a dead body in the dorms over break. It’d be nasty when we got back.”

Arthur pushed at the arm beneath his arms. “I kin walk on m’ own…” Grinning, Alfred loosened his hold slightly, tightening it right away before Arthur dropped onto his face. “Mebbe not… Where’re we goin’?”

“I’m taking you back to your room. You can sleep off the booze.” He saw the scrutinizing look that had replaced the angry frown. “What?”

“Yer purdy handsome fer a fella...”

Alfred’s ears flushed, even though it was a compliment from a drunken man. They stood near the front door. Most people who remained had migrated to the centre of the barn, chatting and enjoying the evening much more quietly than they had initially. Alfred shuffled through the pile of jackets with his foot, finding his bomber jacket near the middle. “Here, just…find your jacket…”

Arthur snaked his arms around Alfred’s neck, drawing him into a kiss that stalled the freshman’s brain functions. Alfred’s gaze was stuck on the centre of Arthur’s face, unfocused and staring between his thick brows. Even when Arthur’s mouth parted against Alfred’s, his jaw slackened at the mere touch of Arthur’s tongue to his lips.

The junior pressed close to his body, forcing him back against the jutting pillar of the wall. The corner dug beneath Alfred’s shoulder blade. Once Arthur’s thigh shimmied between his, Alfred’s autonomic nervous system kicked in, and his heart raced as if it was trying to fast-forward his delayed response to catch up with Arthur. His entire face flushed bright red as his temperature rose, and he felt his hands suddenly become clammy.

While his body temperature and blood pressure were doing rapid fluctuations, his brain replayed the same sentiment: Oh my God. Oh my God.

It may have been rude, but circumstances being what they were, Alfred wasn’t about to be a gentleman. He took Arthur’s shoulders and pushed him away, propelling him back a few steps. “Dude, just…whatever.” He grabbed his jacket, took Arthur by the bicep, and marched out to his car.

Arthur managed to crawl into the backseat and promptly fall asleep, which was fine by Alfred. He sat on the hood of his Mustang, pushing his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and crossing his arms. His face still felt hot, even in the crisp winter air. Soon a chill set into his body sending a short but violent shiver through him, and he slid behind the wheel of his car.

Thanks to Toris, he knew Arthur roomed with Francis. He knew where they dorm room was, but he didn’t have the key. Hopefully Arthur keeps it in his pants pocket rather than his jacket, Alfred mused as he drove down the icy country road.

He’d find out soon enough. If nothing else, he could always leave Arthur in the hall with a note: Fairies got me drunk and left me.

The drive was quiet except for Alfred’s choice of CDs. Arthur spoke incoherently in his sleep for the most part, but a few words stuck out.

“Knock it off Hook…min’ bunneh’s not edible…fuckin’ frog…”

“Dude can party,” Alfred snickered. Parking in the almost-empty lot, he cut the engine and looked in his rear-view mirror. For some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at Arthur’s mouth, even though his brows called more attention. “Wakey wakey,” he declared, stepping out of the car. He opened the rear door Arthur’s feet leaned against, taking his hand and pulling him into a sitting position. “C’mon. You can sleep in your room.”

Alfred ended up carrying him on his shoulder, which probably was not the best idea considering the amount of alcohol settled in his stomach. “Where’s your key?” Why bother talking to him when he’s pretty much asleep? Alfred searched Arthur’s jeans pockets, marvelling at how small they were. He managed to manoeuvre a room key out of a hip pocket with his forefinger and unlock the room.

It was a typical arrangement with two beds, dressers, desks, and chairs. The decorating was the most unique feature. Francis’s half of the room was identified by wall hangings of art prints and French movie posters. Arthur had rock band posters, books, and embroidery on his side.

Alfred laid Arthur on his bed. The junior stretched fitfully, unsuspecting of the impending hangover. Getting a good look for the first time, Alfred noticed that he wasn’t an unattractive man. He had unusually thick eyebrows, but his face had an attractive shape. Alfred stopped his observation when he caught himself locked onto Arthur’s mouth again.

With a final look around, he walked out of the room, shut the door, locked it, and then slid the key back under the door. “Santa’d better appreciate this…” he sighed.


[identity profile] 2010-12-24 12:28 pm (UTC)(link)
ASDFJKL this was awesome. ; w ; You wrote all the characters perfectly!

[identity profile] 2010-12-24 04:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you. ;c;
As I was writing, I was freaking our because America didn't seem like his happy-go-lucky douche self. oTL England developed a redneck accent while drunk, too. orz


[identity profile] 2010-12-26 12:47 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you so much for this! ^^

Not only did you pick my favorite prompt, you filled it beautifully! Alfred was adorable, as was Arthur in his drunken way. <3

Again, thank you for a wonderful Christmas fic!

[identity profile] 2010-12-26 04:18 am (UTC)(link)
You're very welcome. c'B
I wish I'd had more time to really work this more. It was a really fun prompt, and I think I spent more time thinking about drinking games than the real prompt. orz
I apologize for England's redneck accent. I don't know Cockney, so it was as close as I could get. ;c;

sephydark: (America England police)

[personal profile] sephydark 2010-12-29 09:10 am (UTC)(link)
Alfred's fixating on Arthur's mouth was so adorable. I think I see the beginnings of something between them, and I hope I'm right, because this reminds me of how perfect they are for each other, despite their differences.

[identity profile] 2010-12-29 10:38 pm (UTC)(link)
I thought it was appropriate. People tend to fixate on things that shocked them to some extent. America's confused [but strangely turned on?] by this drunk punk. c;