[America shifts abruptly so he can stretch out on the couch, head in England's lap.] It's fine, we can still have a cool party just with what we've got.
[England has to move the bottle to look down at America's face. His expression tries to be exasperated, but the sadness really eclipses it all.] This is a remarkable distraction you're coming up with, you know.
[How many times now has America said that? The process of "making it okay" is often a long one, but England is rather tired of convincing himself to believe it will be.]
[England grimaces, averting his eyes as much as he can while they're so close. Perhaps the liquor has loosened his tongue, because he grumbles it instead of just thinking it.] Stop that, it's like looking into the sun.
[Caught out, England tries to turn his gaze away even further. His face is getting a little red, as well.] Yes, you silly oaf. [This does explain a lifetime of being unable to look at America's smiling face for too long.]
[At least England has gotten a consolation for his embarrassing moment of bluntness. And an excuse to close his eyes. Whether he will get his dignity back is unknown as of yet, but this is nice enough for now.]
I've already started. [England lifts the momentarily forgotten bottle of alcohol in indication. His following sentence is soft, leading.] Unless you mean something else.
Mm. [The top for it is around here somewhere. England feels around the couch until his fingers stumble upon it, and then he carefully twists the cap back onto the bottle.] I suppose I should save some for the party, anyway.
[Now that the whiskey's taken care of, England can set it aside properly and use one of his hands to hold America's back steady. He sighs through his nose as they kiss again.] Maybe?
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That's very ambitious of you.
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What did you have in mind?
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Definitely, indeed.]