Pub and GO! | Drunk!England x Reader

For the twentieth time this evening, Arthur asks you to go to the bar with him.

“No.”

“Love, come on! Please?”

You’re beginning to feel exasperated. You and Arthur meet weekly for sessions of literature analysis, much like a book club, and he’s typically kind enough to host your get-togethers. Today happens to be that day, Friday, and you usually look forward to these meetings—but right now? Arthur’s getting on your last nerve. You’re seated comfortably in his living room, ankles crossed as you relax in the massive armchair in the corner with your chosen book for the week. And at his pleading, you pointedly turn the page of the novel, then glance up and meet his emerald gaze with your own. With the sweetest smile you can muster, you shake your head.

“No.”

He throws up his hands. “Why the bloody hell not?!”

He knows perfectly well why, and you don’t want to hurt his feelings, but you see no other way around it.

“Arthur, I hate to say this…but you know you can’t hold your liquor.”

Arthur crosses his arms over his chest, scowling.  “I can too! I promise I’ll behave!”

“No. Arthur Kirkland, do you remember the last time I took you to the bar? Besides, this is our time to read! I never get a break all week - especially now with my boss working me down to the bone! Arthur, I look forward to our chance to spend time together here in peace and quiet.”

He flinches. “All right, love, I see your point— and I’m flattered you enjoy the our time together. But for once in his life, Francis seems to have extended the olive branch! He invited myself and several other countries down to Allistor’s pub for the evening, just to have a few beers and chat, and he wanted me to bring you with me!” He adopts a pleading expression. “What if I ask Alfred to come along in our group instead of Gilbert’s? Then, if I do get a little tipsy, you’ll have him to help you out!”

You realize he must be desperate if he’s willing to ask Alfred for help, and that, combined with Arthur gazing at you through those begging green eyes, breaks your will. You swear inwardly because you can’t say no and curse the day you fell in love with this idiot.

You narrow your eyes at him. “If Allistor kicks you out again, I am not driving you home.”






You arrive at the pub fifteen minutes later with Alfred by your side.

The American snickers as Arthur practically sprints inside. “Dudette, did he really ask for me to come with you guys?”

“Sort of. I told him no until he suggested you come with us to help me keep an eye on him.”

“Oh. So I’m just a babysitter?”

“Yup. Be glad I invited you with us in the first place, Al.” You slap him on the back as you walk inside, and Alfred follows you in, resembling a kicked puppy.

“That’s cold, (Name)…” He pouts, following you as you duck inside (sighing happily at the cool contrast to the muggy July air outside) and weave between tables.
 
“You would’ve shown up as soon as you heard Arthur was here. You don’t miss a chance to film him drunk and you know it.”

“Okay, okay, that’s true.”

Arthur is nowhere in sight when the two of you enter, but you spot Feliciano and Lovino Vargas seated by the small entertainment stage toward the front, by the bar itself. You nod in the brothers’ direction.

“Is it okay if we sit there?”

Alfred shrugs. “Sure.”

“Ciao Feli, Lovi,” you say as you approach their table.

“Ciao, (Name)!” Feli bubbles back, while Lovino just grunts and sips from his glass.

“You mind if we sit?”

“Not at all! Make yourselves at home!” Feli pulls out a chair for you beside him, while Lovino scowls at Alfred but allows the blond to drop into the seat beside him. “What brings you here?”

“The same thing that brought everyone else - Arthur convinced me to come because of Francis,” you answer, and Feliciano nods in understanding. Your eyes flit to the dark wine in his glass as you speak—the sight is delicious and you know Allistor (owner of this pub and Arthur’s brother) always orders the best alcohol for his bar. He’s both a stickler and incredibly hard to impress as is, so it’s probable the wine is imported directly from Tuscany for assured quality and taste (not to mention Lovino, a die-hard Italian, is having a glass, which automatically gives a sound review). You lick your lips appreciatively at the thought and quickly wave down the bartender: Allistor himself, busy behind the bar countertop as he tends to customers and cleans. “Oi, Allistor! What can I do to get some service around here?”

He rolls his eyes at you but sets down the mug he’s wiping and emerges from behind the counter, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow. “Funny, lass. What’ll it be?”

You give him your brightest smile. “I’ll have whatever Feli and Lovi are drinking. Alfred?”

“Just a beer, thanks.” Alfred glances up at Allistor and grins teasingly. “So, Alli, you haven’t seen Arthur around, have you?”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, then his eyes dart over to you. “So it was you two who brought that git? I saw my brother pass through just a bit ago. Probably went over to Seamus - Ireland’s the only one who won’t kick him out right away.”

“Alli?” You laugh softly. “I haven’t heard that one before, Al.”

Allistor glares at you, but you know him well enough to understand it’s only half-hearted. “Shut up, (Name), or you won’t be getting your alcohol.” He switches his focus to Alfred and glowers at him, and this time it’s genuine. “The same goes for you, Alfie.” The redhead strides back behind the bar counter without another word and starts preparing your drinks, a smirk appearing on his lips when Alfred makes an offended sound.

“You know I hate that nickname! Only (Name) can call me that!” he yells, cheeks bright red.

Feliciano giggles, but he likely senses Alfred’s embarrassment and changes the subject out of mercy. “So, bella, what have you been doing lately?”

You cross your legs and relax. “Just hanging around Arthur’s, really. I was just there before Arthur got word from Francis and we came up here.”

“Ah, I see! So how are things going with him, then?” Feliciano winks.

“Wh-What?!” You blush fiercely and shush him immediately, but Alfred has already perked up.

“Hn? What does he mean by that?”

“N-Nothing! He didn’t mean any—!”

Feliciano cuts you off eagerly, clapping his hands. “(Name) told me a while ago that she was falling for a certain Inghilterra!”

Alfred’s eyes go wide. “Whaaaaaaat?!”

“Feli, shut up!” you hiss, the pink on your cheeks deepening.

He ignores you, cheerfully bobbing his head. “Sì, sì! I’ve been urging her to confess, but she’s as stubborn as fratello!”

Lovino’s head snaps up and he scowls. “O-Oi! Bastardo! I’m not stubborn!” He takes a violent swig from his glass and slams it down on the tabletop before crossing his arms, embarrassed and hot-faced.

Alfred pays no attention to him and instead turns to you, eyes sparkling. “Dudette, no way! You gotta confess now! Elizabeta told me everyone’s been shipping you guys and to get you together at all costs! Man, I didn’t think she was gonna get her wish since I thought you liked Lovino but I suck at reading the atmosphere so—”

You blanch and shout, “Lovino?!” at the same time Lovino chokes on his wine and spits it out while coughing,

“(Name)?! With me?!”

“You moron!” You pretend to gag. “When would I ever go for someone like Lovino?!”

Lovino looks like he’s about to agree with you for half a second, then he registers what you just said and twists back to you. His face glows crimson as his temper flares. “O-Oi, wait a minute! ‘Someone like me’?! What the fuck does that mean?! You wish you could date me!”

Before anyone else can say anything else, the situation grows significantly more uncomfortable when Allistor clears his throat and makes himself known. “Ah, lass, I, uh— I have your wine…”

Oh fuck, really?! Your stomach sinks all the way to your toes and your heart skips a beat. “You, ah…didn’t happen to hear that, did you?”

He sets your wine down in front of you before handing Alfred his beer, then gives you a reassuring smile. “Hear what? I won’t tell a soul.”

You heave a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Allist—”






You’re quickly cut off by a deafening shout, and it’s one you recognize immediately. You cover your eyes with your hands and shake your head in dread, muttering, “Oh, no.”

To your horror, you see Arthur appear through your fingers. He’s running toward you, tripping and stumbling over absolutely nothing, cheeks flushed and clothing rumpled and golden hair utterly disheveled. He flings himself into your lap and instantly starts digging through your pockets, mumbling to himself, “Where is it, where is it…?”

“Arthur, what the bloody hell do you think you’re—”

“FOUND IT!” he bellows. Arthur snatches something from your pocket, jumps to his feet, and holds it up victoriously. It’s shiny and white and— wait, that’s— that’s literally your cell phone?! He presses his fingertip to the home button, unlocks it (how the hell did he get his fingerprint into your settings?!), and hurriedly starts to search through your apps, giggling to himself.

“HEY! Give me back my pho—!”

Arthur interrupts with a giddy “YES!” and he twists on his heel, sprinting up to the entertainment stage.

Your table is silent for a moment, then you let your head hit the table with a loud THUNK and groan.

“What…what is he doing?” Alfred says, gaping at Arthur as Arthur hastens to rearrange the stage, moving microphones and speakers to his desired positions.

“I don’t know.” You slump down in your seat and take a long sip from your wine—something tells you you’re going to need a good portion of alcohol in your system to survive tonight. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

“It’s getting worse.” Alfred points at the stage.

You look up and almost do a spit-take. Arthur’s somehow managed to change into his green military uniform in the two seconds you looked away and is now currently plugging your phone into the speaker system. To your dismay, Pub and Go! begins to play loudly through the speakers—bagpipes start blaring throughout the room.

“He’s not…”

Alfred nods. “He is.”  

You sink even lower in your seat. “And everyone saw us walk in with him, too…”






Arthur starts the intro, and you feel your face burn red at the sight. “Alfred, get him down from there! I recruited you for back-up, now help!”

Alfred smirks. “Nah, you can handle this one, (Name). I have faith in you.”

Allistor shoots you a glare from behind the bar counter. “(Name), you better get that idiot offstage, or I’m kicking you outta my bar for the rest of your life!” he growls. You shake your head frantically and look to Feliciano and Lovino for help. As you do so, you miss the wink Allistor sends Alfred and the Vargas brothers behind your back.

“Feli, help!” you beg, but Feliciano only grins and gestures toward Arthur, giggling uncontrollably.

“Come now, (Name), you can handle someone like him! Love conquers all, sì?”






“Feli, come on!” you whine, wincing as Arthur prances about onstage. You feel like burying yourself in a hole and never coming out, and your wish only amplifies after he does a little twirl and flips his hair—you would’ve laughed, but you’re so mortified you can’t even think straight. So you turn to Lovino instead, praying he’ll help you out.

“Lovi!” you plead, but he only ignores you and jabs a finger at Arthur.

“You brought him, so he’s your problem!”






Arthur leaps down from the stage and starts making his way toward your table. “Oh, shit!” You duck beneath the table and fearfully watch Arthur’s feet come to a stop, as though he’s looking for something—likely you. You gulp, but when you glance up you see him shrug and start toward the back instead. You peek your head out to see him come to a halt in front of a different table. You spot Lucille, Matthew, and Francis sitting together (Lucille and Francis both sip elegantly from expensive French wine while Matthew drinks cutely from a mug of steaming hot chocolate). Upon reaching the trio, Arthur bows showily and smirks (you curse yourself for finding that teasing, smug look so undeniably attractive on him).

He extends his gloved hand to Francis and sings,






He abruptly rips his hand away before Francis can return the shake, grinning viciously. He turns on his heel and makes to head for the stage, but as he does so his gaze flits across your table, accidentally landing on you. Immediately, his face brightens and he dashes toward you. You swear aloud and try to scramble back under the table, but Feliciano and Alfred catch you by either wrist and pull you to your feet, and Alfred shoves you in Arthur’s direction without warning. You stumble and almost fall, but Arthur suddenly appears in front of you and catches you, causing your cheeks to flush a vibrant red. Arthur gives you a drunken smile, but then his eyes go wide and he backs away, pulling you with him.






To your surprise, the entire bar instantly echoes back, “Head to starboard!” as though it’s been planned. You don’t have time to dwell upon it, though—you’re too busy yanking yourself away from Arthur as he attempts to drag you over to the stage, marvelling inwardly at how he isn’t slurring as he sings. He somehow manages to remember the words to this stupid song all while being intoxicated and ridiculously sexy?!






Arthur waves a hand through the air and a trail of glittering light flows from his fingertips, the exact shade of your favorite color. The magic twinkles, twirling around you, and you momentarily pause in trying to get away from Arthur, stunned. You stare at Arthur in wonder, and he repeats the action. He flicks his hands in an elaborate pattern and more sparks emitting from his fingers. The tiny lights playfully dance around you as though they’re alive, and you try to touch one. When your fingers pass through one, they all disappear and you find yourself being tugged toward the stage.






Arthur declares. He struts toward the nearest table, at which several African nations are seated, and approaches the first country he sees: Qwara. He swipes her mug directly from her with his free hand (as soon as this happens, you can’t help but wonder why he’s doing this, as you know Qwara adores coffee specifically and likely this is what she’s drinking—plus, she drinks it piping hot, directly from the coffee maker). When Arthur takes a sip, he gags and spits it out, confirming your assumptions.






He gives a flustered chuckle.






Arthur slams the mug of coffee back down in front of Qwara (who is definitely snickering at this spectacle) and tightens his grip on you, dragging you up to the stage. You, no longer mesmerized by his magic, begin to fight his surprisingly strong grasp on you again. He smirks at your attempts and forcibly sits you down on a chair on the entertainment platform. He snaps his fingers and magical ropes appear in a large puff of smoke, which float menacingly toward you and tie you to the chair before you can escape. All while this happens, a separate chair pops into existence beside you, ornate with red cushions and lined in gold, and Arthur starts to sing ominously,






Busby’s Chair dissolves into harmless grey mist, slinking away into the shadows, and Arthur begins to approach you, humming along to the instruments in his song. You struggle against the ropes with every step he takes, cursing when your restraints don’t give at all. “Allistor! Alfred! Someone, HELP!” But no one steps up to free you and he creeps closer. You feel a blush set your face ablaze. “Feli? Lovi?!” you squeak.






Arthur gets about two inches from your face when he suddenly spots a glass of ale on the counter and loses interest in you. He skips happily toward the drink, and the fact that he prefers alcohol to ravishing you senseless irritates you briefly before you realize that the ropes binding you to the chair have vanished alongside Arthur’s concentration. You stand, shout, “FREEDOM!” and take off running toward the exit. Arthur turns at your voice with the alcohol in hand, and he hurriedly throws out an arm to catch you by the waist before you can make it past him. “DAMMIT!” you screech as he tows you back inside.






Arthur begins to chant the magical phrase as he sets you back onstage, and you find yourself unable to move as Arthur casts a spell. More sparks fill the space around you as he draws his hands through the air, enchanting light emitting from his fingertips once more. He moves closer, and you see a flicker of worry in your friends’ eyes as they watch Arthur work his magic on you—he’s not really going to do anything dangerous, right? He’s drunk, but he would never hurt you, right?! But when Arthur starts to mutter more incoherent words that border on slightly satanic, you see Francis and two others, Ivan and Yao, stand as though they’re going to approach and help you out.

Immediately, Arthur twists around and brandishes a glowing hand at them, roaring,






They all back down reluctantly, and you’re left on your own to strain against the spell as Arthur smirks.






He sings again, making small fireworks crackle and burst around you. Then he bellows,






Arthur punches the air and the spell around you shatters—literally, with shards of rainbow light cascading down around you, dissolving into fine iridescent dust, but it’s swept away by an invisible breeze before you can observe its pretty nacre any longer. When you take a step forward you sway slightly, unused to holding your own weight. Arthur catches you once more and grins down at you, emerald eyes dancing with amusement.






Arthur lifts you down from the stage and continues the song,






And suddenly, everyone in the pub is singing along. You look around in bemusement, completely confused; how does everyone know his song?! And why is Allistor singing?! Wasn’t he super pissed like two minutes ago?! Puzzlement turns to shock when Arthur yanks you upright into his chest, tilts your head back to look him in the eye, and smirks, dragging his tongue over his lips slowly—then he’s pulling you in for an utterly unexpected kiss. A gasp escapes you and you nearly lose your balance, but Arthur has one arm around your waist and the other on the back of your head, pressing your body into his, holding you steady and keeping you grounded, and yet you’re soaring, your face blazing and your heart pounding and you’re terribly embarrassed that you’re kissing your closest friend and long-time infatuation in front of an entire bar filled with your fellow nations, but you’re so elated, so thrilled, so high on the sensation of Arthur’s lips moving in sync with yours—you could hardly care less.






Everyone is carrying the song for Arthur as he kisses you fiercely. You can hear Francis, Feliciano, Lovino, Allistor and Alfred and Matthew, Qwara, Lucille, Michelle, Mathias and Lukas and Emil, Tino and Berwald, Yao, Kiku, Yong Soo, Mei, Kasem, Li Xiao and Su Min, Vash and Lili, Antonio, João, Ludwig, Gilbert, Roderich and Elizabeta, Vladimir, Sadık, Heracles, even Ivan, Natalia, Katyusha, Toris and Feliks and Eduard and Raivis— everyone is singing, cheering, but all you can see are stars, galaxies, as Arthur’s hands land on your hips and he pulls you so close all you can see and feel and taste is him, him, him—

And then he’s no longer there.

You blink and look around, arms falling to your sides as you try to catch your breath and understand what just happened. Arthur is no longer holding you close but is rather— ah, there’s the issue: Alfred has made his appearance. Arthur is slung over Alfred’s shoulder and Alfred is roaring in laughter while Arthur yells in displeasure, growling and pounding on Alfred’s back, yelling,






On that note, the music wraps itself up and shuts off, leaving nothing but quiet. Arthur’s eyes suddenly flutter shut, and he passes out on Alfred’s shoulder, head thunking against his brother’s back loudly. Alfred gives another contagious laugh, shouts, “I’ll take care of him!” and jogs out of the bar, leaving everyone else gazing after them.

…

…

…

…

…

Allistor is the first one to speak. He grins from ear to ear and says, “Let’s hear it for my brother and his new girlfriend!”

The entire bar breaks out into thunderous applause, and you sweatdrop. “What?”

“Ah…we may have planned this, (Name),” Feliciano explains apologetically from the table, smiling sheepishly. “You were being so stubborn, I had to find some other way to set you up with Inghilterra - so I told some others about your love for him! Mr. Scotland agreed to help, as did fratello and Mr. America and many others! That is why Big Brother Francis invited you to the bar in the first place!”

Your eyes narrow. “This was a set-up?”

Feliciano flinches and cowers behind Lovino, who stands quickly. “RUN!”






“(Name), love, can we go out for a drink?”

You pause in the middle of a paragraph. He best be joking. You glance up and meet his gaze squarely. “Pub and Go,” you remind him calmly, and Arthur’s face turns a stunning shade of crimson.

“BLOODY HELL! I SAID I WAS SORRY, DIDN’T I?!”

“I know.” Without giving him any form of warning, you reach up and grab hold of the black tie around his neck, then yank him down into a kiss. His face deepens in color but he gladly returns your affections, tilting his head to the side to find a better angle. The two of you remain like this for a good minute, him teasing your bottom lip with gentle nips, until you pull away for air, certain he’s forgotten all about his wish to go out for drinks.

Panting, you give him a sly grin. “And I said I forgave you, didn’t I?”