Wild Night

Lmao, I'm so sorry for not updating anything and then boom here i am with a pwp
But, but, but, i wanted to write something for my honey, Mimi :3c

Arthur is 18 and Alfred is 19 btw

Not beta-ed

***

Arthur was never one to party before. He preferred to stay home and read a good book or maybe watch a movie or even bake something. That was his definition of having a good day or night. Nothing to piss him off.

However, everything changed when they started to make a bloody Music Festival near his town, and of course his family forced him to go.

The first year was bloody awful and he vowed to never go again. The heat, the dust, the sweat, the lack of hygiene, and, well, everything. His family seemed to have had a jolly time nevertheless.

Next year he didn't put a single foot in it, no matter how much his family wanted him to come, he stubbornly held his ground and locked himself in his room until they went away.

Then, it finally came a year that he went, willingly. His vacation was being a little too... bored, and he had finally made eighteen, and could now drink... So, that was what he intended to do at the sodding Festival. At least if he were drunk he would have more fun and not care as much.

It wasn't his first time drinking, but it certainly was the first time he was drinking with the intent of getting completely and utterly smashed. His family had disappeared a few moments ago and he was left alone at one of the various bars.

And someone sat beside him when he was in his second mug of beer. He glanced to his side with an eyebrow raised, because there had been other seats unoccupied and yet the guy had sat beside him.

The guy that didn't seem much older than Arthur had introduced himself as Alfred F. Jones. The Brit's nose wrinkled at the very obvious American accent, he hid his grimace with another sip of his beer, grumpily replying with his name.

The American didn't seem bothered with his prickly attitude and chattered away, drinking his own mug of beer. Arthur replied once in a while with a grunt or nod or something because really he didn't have anything else to do.

Before Arthur knew it, the both of them were laughing and telling stories and jokes to each other, night had fallen and Arthur hadn't had so much fun like this in centuries.

The both of them had gotten drunk. Or rather, Arthur was, and Alfred was tipsy, and they were stumbling through the crowd. The Brit was leaning heavily on the American, grasping onto his arm. Muscled, muscled arm which he squeezed while saying exactly that to Alfred which had said American bursting into laughter.

Alfred lead him into a secluded corner in the middle of the woods, behind some rocks, behind some trees and it was dark, but there were people right behind that one huge stone. Arthur could hear the music and the people as if they were right next to him, but they weren't and he felt slightly dizzy but Alfred was there supporting him, and he looked up.

The light of the moon didn't quite reach them as they were underneath some trees, but he still could see the blue of Alfred's eyes, and that idiotic cowlick that refused to stay down.

One thing somehow lead to another and then they were kissing. Arthur was pushed against the huge stone, and, had he been soberer he would've cared more that he was in public, outdoors, in the middle of nowhere and people could see him if they so choose to explore this side of the woods.

But, he wasn't sober and Alfred was a very good kisser and there were hands pushing his t-shirt up and off. Arthur, although definitely not as experienced as Alfred seemed to be, with the help of alcohol, managed to pull off the American's tank top with a groan.