Another boozy night, another embarrassing morning after for Britain, enjoy!

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya!

The Night Before!

Britain groaned. It felt like someone was sticking a corkscrew into his brain and he had not even opened his eyes yet. His stomach felt like a washing machine in mid-wash cycle, turning over and sloshing around and threatening to crawl up his throat and make an escape. All the familiar signs of a colossal hangover and, as there had been a World Meeting and they always went out for a drink afterwards, that was nothing unusual and Britain decided to just lay in his bed until he felt better.

Then he realised that his covers were missing and his mattress was thin and, for some reason, plastic covered. There was also a weird smell of antiseptic fighting a losing battle of covering the stench of urine and other things that Britain did not want to guess at. He cracked open an eye, fighting the spike of pain that shot through his head and found himself in a small room with plain walls, lit up by weak light coming from a strip of window above his head, showing a single door with an eye slot and a toilet with a small wall providing privacy, making Britain groan again.

It was not the first time he had woken up in a police cell after a night of drinking and he doubted it would be the last but it did not lessen the humiliation and he would probably get a lecture from his boss again about how his conduct would reflect badly on the country and, frankly Britain could do without the earache.

Then he realised that he was wearing something strange and he looked down at himself to find he was wearing a kind of white overall that looked like what they dressed detainees in when the police take their clothing for forensic tes …...

Oh God! What had he done?

He pushed himself into a sitting position and held his aching head in his hands while all the worse-case scenarios ran through his brain, making it hurt even more. Had he hurt someone or worse? He was a gentleman and the idea that he might have forced himself on someone was abhorrent but he could think of no other reason why he would be in a police cell in a white overall, minus his normal clothing.

There was a grating noise and Arthur looked up at the pair of hazel eyes staring at him through the now opened eye slot.

"Good morning, Mr Kirkland," said a voice that Britain recognised. It seemed he had been in this police station before and the officer clearly remembered him. "Sobered up now?"

"What happened?" Britain groaned. "Where are my clothes? Why am I wearing this?" Britain was dreading the answer and the officer guessed what was going through Britain's mind.

"Don't worry, Mr Kirkland," he reassured. "Other than drunk and disorderly, you haven't done anything really bad. You're just wearing that because we had nothing else to put you in."

"Where are my clothes?" Britain could see the officer's eyes crinkle up in a way that told him that the officer was trying not to laugh.

"Well," the officer replied. "When you were brought in, you were ….. how should I put this …... without apparel!" Britain was relieved that he had not done anything truly horrible but he looked non-plus.

"Are you saying," he said, slowly. "That I was naked!"

"As the day you were born," the officer smirked. "As a jaybird. not a stitch on, starkers, take your pick." Britain groaned.

"At least you didn't try to kiss the arresting officer like last time," the officer twisted the knife a little and Britain groaned again. "Or jump into the fountain in Piccadilly Circus, screaming 'I'm the dreaded pirate Captain Kirkland' and then start drowning," Britain hid his head as all his past indiscretions were laid bare.

"Just kill me now!" he moaned.

"Any way," the officer said, opening the door, showing brown hair and a police uniform and holding out a bundle. "Your friend brought your clothes in so, as soon as you're dressed, we can kick you out of here."

"Which friend?" Britain asked, taking his clothes. Whoever it was, it was going to be embarrassing.

"Blonde, glasses, loud and American," the officer replied. Great, America! Britain thought. Well, at least it is not France. "Give a knock when you're dressed and we'll let you out." The door closed and locked again and Britain began to change, wondering what happened to his clothes in the first place.

The officer went to the front desk where America was waiting for Britain.

"He'll be ready in a minute," the officer said. "He has no idea how he lost his clothes last night." America grinned.

"Dude can party," he laughed.

"I know, I saw it," the officer laughed. "I don't envy you breaking the news to him."

"I hear ya," America replied. "He's a pretty proud guy. When he finds out, it's gonna be spectacular!"

After Britain was dressed and brought out of the cells, he was given a caution and waved off with a 'see you next time'. Apparently the police were getting used to Britain's drunken antics. They got into America's car and pulled away with America trying to get to grips with driving on the left.

"America," Britain said. "What happened last night? How did I end up getting arrested without my clothes?" America gulped.

"How much do ya remember about last night, Iggy?" he asked. Now Britain was worried.

"I remember we all went for a drink and ended up in Soho," he replied. "And all of you dragged me into a s…..." Then he remembered where they went." …... What did I do?!" America gulped again. He wished he could tell Britain that it was not how it looked but it was actually worse.

"Well...," America was trying to think of how to tell him this. "You had a few drinks and …..."

"And …...," Britain said, darkly as America pulled up outside the hotel the countries were stay at.

"It's better that I show ya," he replied and they got out with Britain terrified of what he was going to find out. Of course, the first person they encountered was France.

"Well, well, well, Angleterre," he purred. "I must say I enjoyed your little show, last night. Perhaps you can give me a private performance. Later!"

"What are you prattling on about, Frog," Britain snarled. France smirked.

"Hon hon hon," he laughed. "So mon petit lapin doesn't remember, Amérique!. This should be fun!" Britain felt even more scared than he had before.

"What is he talking about, America?" he said. America coughed, nervously.

"Let's go to my room," he replied. "And I'll show you." And he lead the way to the elevators.

"I almost don't want to," Britain said but followed America anyway, with France tagging along, still hon hon hon -ing and muttering things about wanting to see Britain's tattoo again and what an interesting place it was in.

The elevator opened to reveal Prussia taking up space inside and his eyes widened when he saw Britain standing beside America and elbowing France to stop him from groping him. Prussia gave his usual smirking smile.

"Kesese, Britain," he said. "I almost did not recognise you with your clothes on."

"Ha ha, Prussia," Britain retorted. "Now if someone would just tell me what happened last night ….."

"You mean you don't know, Britain!" Prussia's smile became even more smirky, if that were possible. "Kesesese, this is going to be good, I'm not missing this!" So Britain had another witness to whatever humiliation he was about to under go as they all piled into the elevator and took it to America's floor.

They departed the elevator when it stopped and opened, walking down the corridor with some of the other countries standing around and talking. They turned to look as Britain walked by, making him feel self-conscious. China looked disapproving while Russia looked like he wanted to become one. Japan suddenly had a nosebleed while Romano muttered, "Stupid, naked Tea Bastard."

"Why is everyone staring at me?" Britain demanded of America and the corridor went silent.

"Does Britain-san not know, America-san?" Japan asked with a blood-spotted handkerchief to his nose.

"Ah no," America replied. "He doesn't remember that part." Romano rubbed his hands.

"Chigi!" he exclaimed. "This is going to be f**king fun! Come on, everyone, there's no missing this! I'm going to get the Tomato Bastard." and he disappeared into one of the room where he shouted, "Hasta la pasta, you lazy jerk, get out of that bed! Britain going to have the sh*t embarrassed out of him!" Britain turned to America who cleared his throat, nervously.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Britain commented. America said nothing and continued on to his room with Britain and the other countries in his wake.

Canada looked up from his laptop as the door to the room that he and America had been given opened and America walked in, followed by Britain and the other countries and Canada had gone a little red at what he had just seen on-line.

"Hey, bro," America greeted, sitting down beside him. "Mind if we borrow your laptop, Mattie?" Without waiting for an answer, America grabbed the laptop and was about to start typing the keys when he realised that what he was looking for was already there and he looked back at Canada who went a little redder. He took it to the beginning and pulled Britain down beside him.

"Now, Iggy," he warned. "Don't blame us for this! Someone else recorded this and uploaded it ….."

"Wait!" Britain interrupted. "Are you telling me this is on-line?" He did not know why he was surprised, anything that happened these days was on Social Media two seconds later. A kesese could be heard among the countries, waiting to watch the show. America blushed and hit play.

Britain saw himself on the screen, on some kind of stage with lights flashing and music playing to a cheering crowd. He clearly drunk as he staggered around and his jacket was already gone and he was trying to remove his tie in a sexy way but it was spoilt by the fact that he was struggling with the knot but he persevered and finally removed it and threw it to the cheering throng. Britain could already guess how this was going to go.

"Of Bloody Hell, NO!" he screamed, hiding his face in his hands.

"Kesesese!" Prussia chuckled. "Watch it, Britain. You don't want to miss any of it." Britain did not want to watch but it was like watching a tragedy unfold, you could not look away. Britain on the screen had begun to unbutton his shirt and managing to do it seductively, if not drunkenly and France could be heard shouting in the back ground, "Oui, Angleterre! Work it!" Britain turned to give the French nation the death stare while France became lost in the fond memories of the night before.

On the screen, Britain had removed his shirt, bearing his torso, and swung it around his head a number of times before throwing it to the audience who cheered him on with shouts of 'Take it all off!'.

"Yeah, Iggy!" Came America's voice off-screen. "Give us the Full Monty!" America shrunk down in his seat when Britain turned to glare at him. On screen, Britain was doing, or trying to do a sexy little dance with a drunken little butt wiggle to more cheering from the crowd and there were flashes of light like that of a camera.

"Keep going, Britain-san!" came Japan's voice from the laptop and Britain turned to stare at the usually polite and proper Japanese man in shock.

"Apologies, Britain-san," Japan said, turning red. "I was a little intoxicated, most regrettable." There was a 'woo' from the crowd on the video and Britain turned back to see himself undoing his belt, pulling it from his trousers and throwing out into the crowd after his shirt then removed his shoes and socks, one by one and threw them in different directions.

"Ja! Go for it!" That was Prussia, of course. Britain on the screen did go for it and began to undo his pants. He turned his back to the audience and bent down as he pulled his trousers down over his butt, taking his underwear with them, revealing a firm butt and a tattoo over his right buttock of a heart with the Union flag and the Star-spangled Banner on each side and words in the heart itself.

"Woo-hoo!" came America's voice from the laptop again. "I knew you really liked me, Iggy! …... Wait, why does it say Arthur and Francis?"

"Hon hon hon, Angleterre!"

"DON'T TOUCH ME, FROG!"

"Why does it say that, Iggy?"

"I was drunk, blame Scotland! AND STOP CALLING ME IGGY!"

"Whatever, Artie!"

Groan!

On the screen, Britain still had his back to the camera and he brought his hands down in front of him as he looked over his shoulder at the crowd who were chanting Show it all! Show it all! Britain wanted to sink into the ground, praying that he had not gone that far but Britain on the screen turned to face the crowd. He had a slight build but it was toned and attractive but one part of his body was hidden by his hands and Britain prayed that it stayed that way.

Show it all!

No, please don't!

Show it all!

God, no!

Britain, on the screen gave the audience a drunken grin, threw his arms out to his sides and Big Ben was exposed for all to see and was greeted by a massive cheer.

Britain screamed in mortification and crossed his arms over his eyes while America turned the video off.

"WHY?" Britain wailed. "I KNOW I WAS DRUNK BUT WHY DID I DO THAT?"

"Kesese," Prussia laughed. "It was a bit of dare. France said you were too much of a prude to strip in public and the next thing we knew, you were up on stage giving it your all." Britain turned to glare at France with an expression that promised dire retribution.

"I might have guess this would be your fault, you snail-slurping, cheese-eating, surrender monkey," Britain snarled, looking ready to jump over the couch and strangle France. "Thanks to you, I'm the laughing stock of the internet …." He turned back to America. "How many views does this have? It might not be too late to have it taken down before too many people see it."

"Sorry, Artie," America said with a sheepish smile. "It's already got over a million hits already and rising."

"A MILLION HITS!"

"Sorry, dude," America said. "Looks like you're the darling of the internet, look at these comments." Britain covered his eyes again and began to shake his head.

"No," he replied. "No, no comments!" But he was ignored.

"Who'd have thought that such a slender guy would have such an impressive package!"

"Is this guy in the next Full Monty film? He should be, lol!"

"Cute butt!"

"I'd tap that!"

"Was that your comment, Frog?" Britain snapped. France just looked in the other direction and whistled.

"My boss is going to kill me!" Britain groaned, crossing his arms on his knees and dropping his head on them. France purred in his ear.

"Does that mean I don't get to see our tattoo again, mon cher?" he was rewarded with an elbow to the gut.

"SHUT IT, FROG!" Britain shouted. "How did I end up in police custody?"

"Someone started a fight," America replied. "You ran out in the chaos and you were picked up by the cops a little way down the road. One of the cops recognised ya and called ya boss's office and they called me so I could go pick ya up."

Britain groaned again, his boss was definitely going to kill him.

A few months later and the teasing was only just dying down but he still got the occasional 'nice arse' shouted at him across the street. As predicted, Britain's boss had torn a strip off him about his on-line performance and he had been told to keep a low profile until the furore died down.

Which was why Britain was at home, rather then down the pub as his boss had put him on a pub ban for six months. He could drink at home but not among the ordinary populace, in order to cut down on any further public embarrassments so he was sat down in his front room with a bottle of beer in front of the TV, watching a program that have camera crews following the police around.

The police officers being recorded were in a police car on their way to a disturbance reported at a local strip club. As they drove and described where they were going and why, the camera picked up a naked man running past the car from the other direction. After a shocked moment, the car stopped and the police got out, followed by the cameraman as they ran after the naked man.

Britain had a bad feeling about this.

They caught up with the man and, despite his face and ….. other things being blurred out, Britain recognised the hair and the tattoo on the right buttock.

"Excuse me, sir," one of the officers said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "Could I see some identification please?" Britain groaned and took a big swig of his beer. No one told him there had been a camera crew when he was picked up by the police.

This memory of this escapade would not go away any time soon!

Ah, Social Media! The curse of modern technology has bitten Britain in his firm butt and anyone remember the tattoo ;D. Any more ideas for drunken escapades Britain can get into? Ideas welcome!

Hasta la Pasta!