Alfred sighed as he struggled with the weight on his back. The figure slumped over him was mumbling mostly gibberish and reeked of rum.
"UGH! You can't ever take your alcohol, Arthur. So every single time we have a drinking party with everyone else I have to carry you home," Alfred pouted as he tried to readjust the way he was carrying Arthur. "You're sooooo stupid, taking Francis seriously."
-FLASHBACK-
"He-hehn~ you're so wimpy, I bet you can't even drink half as much as I do." The man with the (self-proclaimed) "luscious golden locks of hair that doesn't compare to Arthur's bedhead" teased.
"What did you just- Don't dare look down on me, you bloody fool!"
"Kesesese, if it's a drinking contest, count me and West in!"
"Wha- why me?"
"Ehhhh? I want to play too~ The loser has to pay for my vodka!"
"It's on-aru!"
-END FLASHBACK-
So in the end, everybody ended up being wasted with the exception of Ivan and Alfred. He vaguely remembered Ivan saying that he'll take everybody else home…but probably will make them BE ONE WITH MOTHER RUSSIA before that.
Shudder.
Anyhow, that was their problem, and Alfred had a drunken Englishman to…err… take "care" of.