England was at that stage of drunkenness where logic and decorum were but distant memories. Right now he was slumped against the damp surface of the bar, eyeing his half-empty drink balefully. Ireland, sitting to his right, checked her watch and wondered if she could sneak out before he started crying about America or whatever they were talking about tonight...what were they talking about tonight?

"I tried so hard...I shpent all tha'...all tha' money...and they pick Russia?" he wailed.

Oh right. They were talking about Russia. That's why he called her out here.

"Load a' bloody...bloody tossers...I invented the bloody game!" He took another gulp, and then coughed. "They ssshould all be bloody grateful to me! Instead they...they beat me at my own game a-and now they won't even let me host it?" England waved his arms around for emphasis, hitting Ireland on the side of her head and unfortunately knocking over the drink of the elderly man to their left, who gave them both a dirty look before moving further away from them.

Ireland rubbed the side of her head. "My team didn't do too great in the last one either, you don't hear me complaining."

"Your team's shit though."

Ireland paused, then shrugged. "Fair enough."

England pointed a finger between her eyes, making her jerk back. "I know why he's doing this! It's a trap! We're all gonna go there, and...and he'll invite us to his...to his house, and he's going to lock the door and smile his creepy smile and he'll say "Now you're all one with Russia, mwah-ha-ha.". And then he'll kill us all. With...with vuvuzelas."

"Well, at least then the vuvuzelas will have been useful for something."

England's face suddenly lit up with drunken glee. "I..I have a Queen though! Russia doesn't have a Queen!"

"Please never say that to his face."

He continued on as if she hadn't spoken. "So there! I have a Queen a-and there'll be a wedding next year, and...Russia's not invited!" He looked quite proud of his logic.

Ireland sighed and took a gulp of her drink. Usually going to a pub was more fun than this. "It's not your wedding, you can't not invite him."

"Sh-shut up! You're not invited either!"

"And I cry myself to sleep every night at the loss."

He downed the rest of his drink and immediately ordered another. She smacked him across the head.

"Don't get so drunk in my pub."

England glared at her. "I'll...get drunk wherever I want! And issnot your pub...we're in London, so it's my pub!"

"Wrong. Yer man that owns the pub's Irish, therefore it's my pub."

England blinked blearily. "Thassnot how it works..."

"Is so."

"Is not."

"Shut up. And you're paying for the drinks. "

"Wha'!" Suddenly England was a lot less drunk. "I'm not paying for you! I remember the last time I was foolish enough to do that!"

"You're going to make your impoverished sister pay for her drinks? When she's a guest?"

"Yes! Pay for your own damn drinks!"

"You're a terrible person." They sat in silence for a moment.

"You know, I bet Russia pays for his sisters' drinks."

"Fuck off."

In the end, he paid half of her bill and in the morning she made him tea before she left.

A/N:

- Just for context, this was written just after England's bid to host the World Cup was rejected in favour of Russia.

- "Your impoverished sister"= basically, Ireland used to be pretty rich, but due to a number of factors including the fact that we're governed by morons and the global recession, Ireland's pretty broke and we owe a lot of money to the EU and the IMF. My headcanon for Ireland is that she's pretty bad with money anyway. Also, our football (soccer?) team is pretty crap.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are always nice!^^