What dafuq are you doing in my kitchen? You were about to give him a cool gesture and a 'Get the fuck out'.
Oh, love! While you were taking a nap I decided to surprise you with some yummy scones! How did you slept by the way?
Not this again. The last time you had the talk with him about his cooking it ended up with him sulking in a corner and then getting drunk in the nearest pub, while you were hitting the wall with you head over and over again, before you took a break from it and decided to hit the table instead.
Arthur... Didn't we have talked already about the whole cooking and baking thing not a while ago?, you asked as you stood uneasily in the door frame and watched your friend how he mixed the ingredients together. And I slept well, thank you for your concern..., you murmured with a faint smile.
Of course we did, but I want to prove that you're wrong, love! My cooking skills are smashing! He was on fire because of the whole enthusiasm, which was pumping through his veins and turned around with a small childish smile on his lips, eyes sparkling like stars out of joy.
Why don't we just go to the pub instead? It'll be fun...?, you said in a questioning tone and titled you head slightly.
You rather deal with a drunk Brit than a burned down
Giving you an eager nod he followed your lead.
And oh boy.
You already regretted everything...
Taking a sip of your favourite non-alcoholic drink someone needed to drive, silly! , you watched how Arthur got himself drunk. Of course you're going to stop him if he would reach his limit...
Okay, actually he had no limit because this Brit couldn't hold his liquor but hey! You tried your best!
Iggy, don't you thi-?, you started with raised forefinger but got cut off in not even a second.
Dun cha b-bloody call me Iggy!, he spatted out and threw his hands in the air in not agreement.
Okay, okay!, you held your hands in front of your chest to show him that you wouldn't do him any harm and that he should calm down.
How about- And again he interrupted you.
How 'bout s-something- He lost his strain of thoughts for a moment. -'bout s-something with C-Captain? Captain Kirkland is ma' bloody n-name from n-now- A hiccup from him cut him off and he got himself his next round whiskey.
Giggling you patted his messy mop of blond hair and took another sip of your drink, before you heard him yell: Whut dah' bloody hell just touched my head?! Show yourself, you bloody ghost! And he flailed around with his arms over his head for awhile.
If you wouldn't know him better, you'd say that he had some serious mental issues.
Arthur! Calm down! It was just me!, you said in a hushed tone and grabbed his hands gentle as you could. Suddenly tears were pricking out of the corner of his emerald eyes.
B-But... Wh-Why would you do t-that? Why?!, he threw himself on you and hugged you tightly, crying like a waterfall at your shoulder, he said over and over again how stupid you and America were, while you were rubbing his back and made hushing sounds.
A few moments past and his sobs got quieter and the tears stopped streaming for now but he stayed in your arms for a little while. Not that you minded.
It was always like this when he got drunk so it was nothing new.
Suddenly the emerald eyed Brit shot up as a certain song was played.
OH MY GOD! This is my song!, he yelled out of his lungs, slammed his fist on the wooden plate of the bar. Completely out of the moment, he climbed up and stood now fully on the bar table and you wouldn't believe what he began to do.
Bitch, that man started to twerk! And he fucking knew what he was doing!
Your mouth hung open in awe as you watched how the blond moved his booty.
Never, really never you would've imagined that he can move his ass that good!
An amused smirk grew on your lips.
Oh, I know a name now... Mr. Twerkland it shall be from now on...!, you snickered to yourself and watched how Arthur had the time of his life, which he surely wouldn't remember the next morning, while you tried not to piss yourself because of the laughing fit you were suppressing.
Umm, Miss/Sir? Don't you wanna take your friend home?, the young bartender asked as he tapped your shoulder with his fingers and continued to clean a beer mug. An uneasy smile was given from him.
Mh? Oh! No, no! Let him have his fun, you waved off with a smooth hand-wave and supported your head on your palm.
Oh, and you would have your fun tomorrow for sure!
The next morning...
Pfft~ Mr. Twerkland~.
Oh, just shut the bloody hell up, [Name]!