A sort of roaring sound made Romania's ears ring unpleasantly, and he frowned in his shallow slumber, mumbling incoherently in hopes that it would go away. That wasn't the case. If anything, the noise got louder as he let out a low groan and rolled onto his side, trying to stay unconscious for just a few more hours...
Nope. Not happening. The Romanian's eyes fluttered open, and he snarled at the brightness that seared his irises, quickly jerking his head to the side and burying it into his-... Carpet? Wait, what?
Ro stayed very still for a few seconds, processing the fact that he wasn't in bed, and that the roaring noise in the background wasn't some sort of rabid animal. The carpet meant he was in the living room, and it smelled of palinka, which meant...
"Rahat.." he grumbled, prying himself from the floor with weary arms, his traditional hat flopping into his face and plopping onto the ground unceremoniously. He looked around slowly, temples throbbing as he struggled to take it all in.
Empty bottles, cake crumbs, pastries smeared on the table, leftover eggplant, barely audible folk tunes playing in the distance-... And why were sausage slices stuck to the wall? And then he remembered.
Birthday. Alcohol. Party. Bulgaria. Riiiiiiight. The Romanian nodded to himself slowly, head pounding as he stood on wobbly legs, throat dry. He was a year older, hungover, and it was... Three in the afternoon. Amazing.
"Happy birthday indeed," he rasped, clearing his throat and grimacing. Maybe there was such a thing as too much karaoke. Locating the source of the unholy roar, he picked up a cushion plastered in bat stickers and flung it at Bulgaria's snoozing form on the coffee table. "Shut the hell up, Bul."
"Mmmph...! Wha-... Shit, Ro.. What the hell is your damage?" Bulgaria growled, his head snapping up way too quickly. "Oooh, man..."
Romania flopped beside the coffee table and rested his head on the wood, eyes drooping as Bulgaria sat up and rubbed at his face, curling up on his side, their noses inches away from each other. Green eyes clashed with coppery tones.
"Buna diminiata, friend," Romania mumbled softly, letting his lids fall. "Some party, hm? I assume Norvegia, Anglia, Germany, and Prussia left early?"
"Da," Bulgaria yawned, puffing his bangs out of his face drearily. He nuzzled against Romania's temple and sighed, going still, his replies mere grunts.
"So this mess is ours?"
"Da," he mumbled, closing his eyes.
"Who did the sausages..?"
"You."
"... Eggplant?"
"You, stupid."
"Pastries? Icing on the fridge?"
"Oh, that was me."
"Endless music loop?"
"Also me- and the pot of melted Hershey bars and cinnamon buns was me too."
Romania let out a soft chuckle and opened his eyes, smirking.
"You're going to help me clean up," he stated, tone friendly, but leaving no room for arguments. He was answered with a groan, and snickered in response.
"Whatever..."
Soft lips pressed against the side of his head, and he felt his face warm happily.
"Happy birthday, Ro."