"Romaaannnooo," Gilbert groans from the ground in front of the bar, his voice slightly muffled by the sidewalk he is laying face first on. "Romano, I'm druuunnnkkk."
"Not drunk enough, obviously," Romano scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You can still talk. Now get up. You're getting stupid all over the street." He prods Gilbert's side with his foot for emphasis, but it only serves in making the albino let loose a pathetic whimper.
"'Mano, that huuurrrtttsss."
"Good," Romano states, giving a sharp jab to in between Gilbert's ribs and feeling a sadistic smirk plaster itself to his lips. Yeah, it's harsh, but so what? If the bastard wanted to be babied, Romano reasons, then he should have called someone else to come get him after he got shitfaced. Besides, it isn't often that the oppurtunity to physically abuse Gilbert presents itself, and Romano isn't going to lie and say that he isn't having more than a little fun.
"You're so mean, 'Mano," Gilbert whines, and before the Italain can register what's happening, the albino has rolled over and wrapped his arms around Romano's legs, nearly sending the brunette toppling over on top of him. After succeeding in a fearsome battle with balance, Romano looks down, his molten gold eyes narrowed into an irritated glare as they stare into hazed over crimson.
"Let go," he snarls, a scarlet blush painting his cheeks when Gilbert only clings tighter. What the hell? Is Gilbert so drunk that he actually thinks Romano won't kick his sorry ass for this? Romano isn't some... some teddy bear, Goddamnit!
"Let go," he repeats, shaking one of his legs in order to dislodge the inebriated German.
Gilbert doesn't let go.
"Nuh-uh," the albino murmurs, shaking his platinum locks. "Dizzy."
Romano groans. 'Nuh-uh'? What is he? Five? While the Italian would normally find Gilbert's childish behavior nothing short of hilarious, and no doubt would use it as blackmail material to use against the proud albino for many years to come, right now it is not quite so entertaining.
"I don't care," Romano snaps. "Get off and get up so I can take you home."
"'M dizzy…" Gilbert says again, as if that's a perfectly acceptable reason to clutch Romano's legs and look up at him with wide, pleading crimson eyes.
"What the hell do you expect me to do about it, bastard? Carry you?"
Gilbert's eyes immediately light up.
Shit.
"Oh hell no," Romano begins, not liking the grin that is growing on the German's face at all. "No. I was joking. There is no way in hell that I am dragging your pasty ass through town. No."
Half an hour later, Romano is pulling Gilbert through the town square while the albino happily caws the Prussian national anthem.