Chapter Text
In a bar somewhere along the Mediterranean, there was a drink bill that was growing by the minute, and two individuals responsible for it. Well, one responsible for adding more onto it and one responsible for covering it, his treat. Portugal let out a drunken chuckle, flirtily calling over the bartender for another drink. Macau sat next to him, quietly running the numbers in his mind.
Portugal had been in a bit of a mood for the past few days. He didn't like to lose, and especially not to his brother, but that's exactly what had happened to him rather recently. He lost a potential fling to Spain. It damaged his pride quite a bit, so Macau had tried to remedy that by taking him for a night out. He had expected Portugal to get a little tipsy, find someone he thought pretty, and ditch Macau halfway through the night for them. He did not anticipate Portugal threatening to drain his wallet dry with all his ordering. Perhaps it was revenge for all the times he'd convince Portugal to gamble in games they both knew he sucked at. Macau sighed.
He turned to his companion and placed a gentle hand on his back. "Perhaps you should call it a night before you drink yourself to sunrise."
“It doesn’t even matter, Macau, it’s not like I can do permanent damage to myself anyway.”
Macau frowned at the response, worried about it. “Just because you can’t die permanently doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself.” He scolded, placing a gentle hand on Portugal’s shoulder. “I know you’re in pain, but please slow down.”
“I’m fine, Macau,” Portugal huffed, prickling up since Macau dared to suggest that Portugal was hurting… in public. In all honesty, had he minded his location just a little bit better, Portugal would have probably given in and admitted it. He didn’t want to acknowledge his pain in the middle of a crowded bar, though, and he didn’t think he was alone in that.
Macau sighed. It didn’t really seem like he was fine. “Tell you what, come play a round of pool with me first before you start in on another drink, okay? It’ll be something to do.” It might get your mind off of it… even if just for a moment.
“Mm… fine,” Portugal gave in, getting up and squinting for a free pool table. Once he found one, he grabbed Macau by the elbow gently, escorting him to it. Macau let himself be pulled along, and they arrived.
The pair sorted out the rules of their game together before Portugal started off. Macau went easy on him, but didn't tell him- goodness knows what Portugal would have done had his pride been injured any more than it already was. That said, there was only so much bragging a man could take from a drunken Luso before he grew tired. By the third game, Macau wanted an out. Just for a little bit. He didn't trust the idea of his intoxicated companion left on his own though, so he searched around desperately for someone to keep him company. Perhaps it was a silly idea, but Macau had had a few drinks himself. He wasn't going to leave Portugal for too long anyway. Just five minutes , he told himself
"Another win for me, Macau!" Portugal laughed, "We should start having the loser buy a shot for each ball the winner sinks!"
Okay, fifteen, Macau corrected. His eyes scanned the crowds again for anyone who was still managing to stand upright and didn't clearly look like a potential assailant.
Eventually, his eyes landed on an odd fellow past the crowd, having a chat with the older men at the bar and laughing along with them like a jackal. Oh yes, he would certainly do. Macau gave Portugal's back a light smack.
"I'm going to use the restroom. I'll be right back." He told him.
"Boo, você é puta," Portugal gave him a thumbs down, "Okay, don't keep me waiting too long."
Macau nodded before leaving the table. He approached the man- no, the country, who had caught his eye before.
“Good evening,” he greeted formally, bowing his head slightly with respect.
The country smiled, a bit bemused. “Don’t worry about being so formal, Macau.” He said, shaking his head. Sure, sometimes formalities were nice, but he preferred a more relaxed attitude, especially when they weren’t at work.
“Right. Could you watch Portugal for me? I’m afraid I hadn’t bargained on spending so much time with him- I expected he’d find someone pretty by now. Frankly, I need a break.”
“How long will you be?” The other asked, not wanting to commit to an entire night of Portugal quite yet.
“About 15 minutes, if that’s alright.”
“Oh, no problem, then,” the country slapped Macau on the back in a friendly manner. “I’ll watch him. Go, take your break.”
“Thank you. I’ll buy you a drink later, how about that?”
“No need, you go take care,” The man shook his head again, chuckling. Macau always thought in transactions in his experience. It was strange- not unwelcome in a stranger, he had to admit, but for some reason, he didn’t want a reward for this task. Besides, transactional relationships were formal, and he didn’t want to be formal right now. Or at least, that was what he was telling himself.
The country approached Portugal. “Playing the pool, huh?” He smiled, his tone conversational yet smooth.
Portugal jumped, looking over. He’d know that voice anywhere. “Turkey?” He looked up, shocked to find the country in question without his signature mask. He squinted at his face, confused.
“Portugal,” Turkey nodded, a smile on his face.
“You aren’t wearing your mask.”
“I wanted a casual evening,” Turkey shrugged.
“I barely recognized you,” Portugal said softly, meeting his eyes. The mask was nice- it gave every day a fun masquerade-y feel, but Portugal had to admit that without it he was quite handsome. It was a more genuine, warmer handsomeness. Although he’d have to get really drunk to consider taking Turkey home, the man did not seem submissive in the slightest, and Portugal liked being top dog.
Turkey laughed at the comment. “Well, the bottom half still looks the same.” He shook his head, amused.
“Yeah, whatever, it looks different. The mask is like your signature.” Portugal chuckled. “Want to play a game of pool?” He asked Turkey, tilting his head.
That was the beginning of how Portugal found himself waking up in Turkey’s bed, a horrific hangover blasting his head with pain, naked, and under Turkey’s arm. He checked the time, and since it was 6 a.m., later than he’d like to wake up in this situation, he attempted to weasel his way out.
As soon as Portugal shifted, attempting to squeeze out under Turkey’s arm, Turkey wrapped his arms around him tighter. Portugal gulped. He would much rather do his walk of shame before getting caught and spending an awkward breakfast. Unfortunately for him, Turkey wanted the opposite.
Portugal tried one more time but got pulled in further, brown eyes blearily opening to meet anxious green ones.
“What are you doing?”
Fuck.