madra_liath: (Catdog)
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Summary: England/Wales in a takeaway after the pubs close, bickering like an old married couple. Written for the Axis Powers Hetalia Kink Meme.

***

"Diet Coke?"

England wobbled slightly on his feet, staring at his pudgy lover with one eyebrow cocked. "Did I just hear you say Diet Coke?"

Wales rolled his eyes. England propped himself against the takeaway counter and nodded at Wales' doughy belly. "Fucking slimming, are we?"

Wales folded his arms, leaning back against the counter, and shot him a look of tired annoyance. "Being a drunken bastard, are we?"

"Nah, nah-" England pushed himself back onto his feet. "-lemme...get this..." He paused for a moment, holding his hands out to steady himself. "Alright mate, I'll have a large pizza please, wiv everything on it - except pineapple, cos it's just empty vitamins..." Wales huffed out a sigh. "Garlic bread? Yeah I'll have two of them actually, and a large chips. Wait, I don't think my arse is fat enough already, slop some cheese on the chips mate. Oh, oh - but a Diet Coke."

Wales shot him a stern look of disapproval. "Have you quite finished making a tit of yourself?"

England ignored him, instead reaching out to slap Wales' belly. "Take more than Diet Coke to shift that, mate."

"Aren't you hungry, then?"

England frowned, the question catching him off-guard. "Yeah, I'm bloody famished. Why?"

Wales shook his head at him. "Well I'm hardly going to eat all that lot by myself, am I? Although if you think I'm that much of a glutton, maybe I will."

England shifted guiltily, feeling his face go red. "No, no...don't do that. I was just - I don't like Diet Coke."

"I know," Wales replied impatiently, "I ordered you a Sprite." He began to smile as England furrowed his brows, trying to remember. "Not ten minutes ago? Is it coming back now?"

England glowered at him and then looked away, shame taking over. "Shut up."

Wales snickered. "That's what happens when you drink a whole crate of lager for dinner." He thanked the server and accepted the plastic bag with their order inside. "Your brain's fucking swimming in the stuff."

They weaved out of the takeaway and started for home, side by side.

"You're the worst bloody drunk I've ever been out with."

"Hoi! What about Ireland?"

"Ireland sings and throws up and goes to sleep, she doesn't get bloody Alzheimer's in the takeaway afterwards."

"Fat-arse."

"Prick."

"...pass us the chips, would you?"

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September 2015

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