APH: Nightclub Confessional 1

"I can't believe you managed to talk me into this, you bloody git."

America smiled broadly at the Brit he had convinced to join him in going to the nightclub they were currently in. America was leaning against the bar casually scoping out the dance floor and the people around them. "I think you gave in when I promised to pay for all your drinks," America said, trying not to laugh.

England glowered at the American over his glass, which hadn't left his hand since they'd arrived. "You're damn right," he sulked. "What I honestly can't believe is this ridiculous outfit I somehow was convinced to wear." Said outfit was an extremely flattering pair of gray skinny jeans, classic Chucks, a t-shirt with a loud, nonsensical tag-line emblazoned on the front, a checkered bandanna around the Englishman's neck, and a wristband adorning his slender wrist. The effect was somewhat ruined, however, by the permanent scowl stamped on his features.

"I figured you'd feel better if you blended in a bit. I don't see anyone else wearing a sweater vest here." America made a sweeping motion with his hand. He was wearing loose brown cargo pants and a navy blue t-shirt that clung to his well-toned body. "Besides, you-" America stopped in mid-sentence as the DJ announced that the next song would be "Lovegame" by Lady Gaga.
America's smile grew even larger if possible. He gleefully recited along with the song, "Let's have some fun this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick."

A look of confusion came over England's face as he tried to pick out the lyrics, which transformed into a look of horror as he succeeded. "Wha- You LIKE this?" he exclaimed loudly, to many dirty looks from the surrounding clubbers.

"Of course! Lady Gaga's one of mine. She's pretty popular too. And hot. She's very bizarre in a hot way. Kinda like David Bowie, except she shows way more skin." America paused. "I think someone needs to show these people how to dance. You gonna join me, England?" America asked as he stepped away from the bar and towards the dance floor.

Skepticism became the predominant look on England's face as he listened to America's (unsatisfactory, as usual) attempt at an explanation. He was about to adamantly refuse any form of dancing, but America had already been absorbed into the crowd on the dance floor, and England suddenly felt very alone. Obviously America was the only person he knew there. He set down his drink and quickly hurried in the direction he had last seen the other nation headed.

America worked his way to a clearer space on the floor. Once he had slightly more room he began to dance. It was an interesting combination of moves from Lady Gaga's music videos and various other moves America had picked up over his lifetime; of course, it was mostly bouncing back and forth, but the point was to have fun! Looking good didn't matter, although America guessed he looked pretty good by the admiring look a girl dancing nearby shot him. She was doing pretty good herself, maybe he'd dance with her a bit tonight.

England finally managed to appear by America's side, red-faced, after having to squeeze through countless dancers who seemed completely unwilling to move. Then he stood there feeling like an idiot, as he was the only one on the dance floor not, well, dancing. He hesitated, and as he did so, more lyrics filtered down to his ears. "...Hold me and love me, just wanna touch you for a minute; maybe three seconds is enough for my heart to quit it..."

America turned his head and saw England had appeared next to him. He smiled at the Brit. He paused as the chorus played, then grabbed England's hand and spun him into him. He adapted his dance to his new partner as the chorus played, releasing him and reclaiming him at various points through the chorus.

He smiled as he released all but a light grip on England's hand as he heard the second verse begin to start. He released his partner again, but continued to face him as he mouthed along to the song, "I'm on a mission, and it involves some heavy touching, yeah."

England's face flushed lightly as America pulled him into his erratic dancing, and he tried not to stumble. Despite what most would think, he wasn't a bad dancer, he just... wasn't used to this kind of music. However, he allowed America to dance with him and managed to somewhat reflect the movements, if hesitantly. This music was rather catchy...

As the second verse began he looked at America and watched as he began mouthing the lyrics along with the song. At the next line, however, England's face turned bright red. "You've indicated your interest, I'm educated in sex, yes, and now I want it bad, want it bad, a love game, a love game..."

America smiled, lost in the music. He spun his partner around and then pulled him in as the famous discostick line repeated. He noticed that England's face had turned red at some point. Huh. He released England so that he could try a few different moves that he needed both his hands for, but he made sure to keep his eyes focused in the Brit's general direction.

Then the bridge came up. "I can see you staring there from across the block," he mouthed as he moved towards his partner. He spun behind England as he continued to mouth the lyrics and placed his hands on the Brit's shoulders.

England continued to blush as he listened closely to the lyrics and allowed America to twirl him around. He was surprised as the American ended up behind him for the line, "The story of us, it always starts the same," and he found himself closing his eyes, relying on his other senses, such as the sound of the heavy bass and the singer's catchy lyrics, as well as the feel of America's hands on his shoulders.

America let his hands slide down England's arms as he mouthed, "With a boy and a girl and a huh and a game!" Then as his hands reached his partner's he took one of England's hands in his own and placed his other hand on England's shoulder and spun the Brit slowly around to face him. He was surprised to notice that England's eyes were closed.

He allowed his hand to slide up from his partner's shoulder to wrap around the back of his companion's neck as the chorus began to repeat. Then he guided his partner in a more complicated pattern of spinning and pushing and pulling than he had already been engaged in as the chorus kept repeating.

England opened his eyes as America swung him around and placed a hand on the back of his neck. He looked up into those bright blue eyes and couldn't resist the small smile that quirked the corners of his mouth as the other, more carefree nation spun and pushed and pulled him around as the song came to a close.

Finally the tune ended and moved on to another and England pulled America to a stop, flushed slightly from the dancing and a bit of humiliation. "That song was all about sex!" he exclaimed accusingly, although he couldn't hide the small grin on his face.

America laughed when England yelled at him. "Most dance songs are about sex," he replied, "or getting drunk or being high. Gaga's songs are just a bit more obvious about it than most." Then America smiled at England as he led the smaller man back towards the bar. "You were great by the way! I doubt I could get anyone else to dance to Gaga with me."

England looked thoughtful for a minute as he pondered this, making his way back to the bar with America. "Ah, well, thank you... You did say she was somewhat like David Bowie, and I've been to a few of his concerts in my time..." He quickly returned to his glass of alcohol, hoping to avoid any more dancing that night.

"Yeah," America said leaning against the bar once more, "He was really big here too. Gaga's kinda like Bowie and Michael Jackson combined in a hot woman's body. Though sometimes I wonder if she really is a woman..." America pondered this briefly before ordering himself a beer.

England sipped his drink. "Well it probably doesn't matter what she is, her music's quite good." He leaned on the bar, hoping America wouldn't drag him out onto the dance floor again.

America smiled at England as the bartender handed him his drink. "Well, you know how my tabloids are. Most of what they say is total crap, but it's also almost believable." America sipped his drink. "Sometimes I wish they'd just shut up, you know? I don't need to hear about what drugs people are doing or how many STDs one guy got from visiting twenty prostitutes. My media can be pretty fucked up."

England laughed. "Yes, yes it can. Aren't you glad you've got the BBC for reliability?"

America laughed. "Boring news delivered boringly accurately? Man, I watch the Daily Show and the Colbert Report when I want to know what's going on in the world! At least they keep me awake. Although I suppose there's something to be said for your stodgy old news." America took another sip of his beer.

A pout formed on England's face. "Yes, "stodgy" and "old," those are the words most commonly used to describe me.... At least I don't have a program called Naked News..." He glowered into his glass, then perked up suddenly with a gleam in his eye. He turned to America. "I'll be back in a jiffy, all right?"

America tried to ignore the part of his brain that was saying that England's pout was probably cuter than his own kicked puppy look. America was trying to come up with a comeback from that Naked News jab when England said that he'd be gone for a bit. "Sure, no problem. Don't get lost, old man," America replied, unwilling to let the Brit get in the last word.
He watched his companion leave while he continued drinking his beer.

England wound his way through the packed club to the DJ's table, where he was almost deafened by the bass pounding out of the massive speakers. "Ridiculous," he muttered, then leaned in to shout his request to the DJ. The guy bobbed his head in acknowledgment and England made his way back to the bar. He got there as the song began to play, and a grin crept onto his face as he swaggered up to America. He tapped him on the shoulder and began to mouth the words as they started to play: "I'm bringing sexy back. Them other boys don't know how to act..."

America looked incredulously at England as he recognized the song the Brit was mouthing. "Wha-? Justin Ti-? Did you just-?" America floundered out as he recovered from his shock. "You know that "Sexy Back" is all about sex, right?" the younger one managed to quip, alluding to his companion's earlier reply to "Lovegame".

Perhaps England was starting to feel some effects from the alcohol, because now he was ready to dance. Something about the song had possessed England, and with a gleam in his eye, he wordlessly pulled America to his feet and back out onto the dance floor. He merely grinned at the other country when he mentioned the content of the song, and once they were on the dance floor, he danced. And yes, he could dance. He moved his hips gracefully and moved right up close to America to continue mouthing the words directly to the other country, looking up at him through his lashes seductively: "Dirty babe/You see these shackles, baby, I'm your slave/I'll let you whip me if I misbehave/It's just that no one makes me feel this way..."

America just mindlessly followed England to the floor, unable and unwilling to leave his companion. He watched England dance. Christ, could the Brit move his hips! It was like... it honestly didn't matter what it was like because all America knew was that England was looking very very seductive.
America was starting to hope that his blood would rush to his face rather than to any other place it would rush, because then he might have a problem... America managed to get his bearings and began to dance a little, not the full out spinning and bopping he had been doing for "Lovegame", but enough so that he wasn't just standing in the middle of the dance floor not dancing.
Then the lyrics trickled through his ear into his brain. Oh, he was screwed. And England was mouthing the lyrics at him, like he himself had done earlier. Dear god, this was turning him on so bad! He had to concentrate on something other than exactly how sexy England's eyes looked right now and how much he'd like to act out the lyrics of this song with England somewhere more private.
He decided to focus on making sure his feet didn't land on anyone else's. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he heard "Take 'em to the chorus". How many times would that bridge repeat in this song anyway?

England finished mouthing the lyrics to the bridge and spun away from America, dancing gracefully along to the music and attracting looks from many of the other dancers, and even threw flirtatious glances at a few of the girls dancing around him. His dancing was true to the song title... He was bringing sexy back. He swung his hips and then lifted his gaze to catch America's eye, grinning sexily. As the chorus came to an end, he gestured for America to come closer, mouthing the words, "Get your sexy on" along with the music.

Shit, England could move. He was the fucking embodiment of the song! Damn, who could resist that Brit when he acted like that? America knew he certainly couldn't. He lifted a curious eyebrow as he moved towards his companion as requested. A fluttering breath escaped his lips as England mouthed "Get your sexy on", but America managed to maintain enough control over himself to mouth back, "Go ahead, be gone with it".

England got right up close to America as he danced and began mouthing along to the second verse. "I'm bringing sexy back/Them mother fuckers don't know how to act/Come let me make up for the things you lack/Cause you're burning up I gotta get it fast." He began draping his arms over America's shoulders, chest, and back, caressing, and dancing around him with flagrant disregard for his usual stiff dignity. Bloody hell, he was enjoying himself.

America felt England's arms wrap around him, enfold him, and caress him. Thankfully he had gotten over his shock of the normally up-tight nation being so... well, sexy, for lack of a better word, so he could probably keep his attraction to the Brit from becoming too much of a problem, but still America was very thankful he was wearing loose pants. Then the bridge began to play again.
America closed his eyes, half out of trust that his dance partner wouldn't hurt him, half out of fear that if he watched England during the bridge his blood would rush south.

England's fingers trailed lower as he danced around America's back, tracing over America's lower back and waist. Then England spun around and pressed his back against America's, rubbing their shoulders together as he danced to the words of the bridge, mouthing along and continuing to dance seductively, using America as part of his dance. "Dirty babe... you see these shackles, baby, I'm your slave... I'll let you whip me if I misbehave... It's just that no one makes me feel this way..." With the last line he whipped around to America's front again and looked up into his face, directing the words at him, though he was surprised to see the other's eyes were closed as the song went on to the chorus.

America felt England's fingers delicately running over his back and waist, and, oh god, England was rubbing their shoulders together. He felt his partner move to his front as the bridge ended. He let his eyelids flutter open and his eyes were immediately met with England's emerald orbs. America felt trapped by the Brit's green gaze, but his mouth freely curled up into an appreciative smile.

England smiled back, but it was no longer his seductive smirk. Instead it was something more... genuine. He couldn't tear his gaze from those sapphire eyes as the chorus continued. When the words came up, he mouthed "get your sexy on" again to America, not looking away or dancing extravagantly anymore, just keeping time to the music with the sway of his hips and maintaining that gaze with America, grinning slightly.

America kept his eyes locked with England's as the song continued. He mouthed "go ahead, be gone with it" back to England and he felt himself leaning forward slightly, the distance between the two closing a little.

England's face was flushed from his dancing exuberance, but now it shaded a bit pinker as he kept his eyes trained on America's bright blue ones, unconscious of leaning forward a bit. The background of the song said, "You ready?!" and then went on into the third verse. England quirked a bushy eyebrow and continued lip-syncing, wearing a slightly mischievous grin. "I'm bringing sexy back/Them other boys watch while I attack/If that's your girl you better watch your back/Cause she'll burn it up for me and that's a fact."

America felt his face flush as he grew more aware of just how close his face was to England's, but he didn't pull away. If anything, he leaned even closer, barely aware of the song's chorus playing around them. His lips were almost touching his partner's, but America was barely aware of even this fact as he lost himself in England's beautiful green eyes.

England felt his cheeks flush and made the mistake of letting his gaze drop from America's eyes to his lips. His dancing slowed and his hands came to a rest on America's arms as the beat of the song pulsed around them. Their faces were so close... His lips....

America leaned forward such a little distance that it would be impossible to see, in fact he wasn't aware that he had even moved. He was just suddenly aware that his slightly chapped lips were pressed against England's soft ones.

England's head spun as their lips pressed together gently. They were kissing. Oh god, they were kissing. His fingers clenched and dug into America's arms as his eyes fluttered shut. After all this time, and... and...

And... No! What were they doing! They were in the middle of the dance floor! His eyes flew open and he took a step back, breaking the kiss. He looked up into America's face as a host of unreadable emotions crossed his face, before turning and fleeing across the dance floor towards the restrooms.

America's eyes fluttered open. A mix of shock, confusion, happiness, and sorrow crossed America's face as England broke the kiss, basically making him look like a lost but hopeful puppy. He was unable to move or speak as the Brit ran from him. It wasn't until his companion was out of sight that he raised his arm vaguely as if to stop the long-gone England from leaving.

His hand found its way to his lips and America felt himself whisper, "England."