A/N: I ove PruHun and Frying Prangle I'm sorry.
Francis looked up abruptly from where he was sitting in his house, his blonde hair framing his face as he rose from the chair. Who called at this time of the night? He was only sitting downstairs because of this stupid Thunderstorm keeping him awake. The doorbell rang again, and he pulled his robe tighter around his slender body.
"Francis!" Antonio puffed as he opened the door. "We have a problem." The Spaniard had a man leaning against his shoulder, his eyes closed to the world but Francis could already see he'd been crying.
"Antonio! Gilbert! Get inside!" he held his door open wide and ushered his friends through it. Gilbert was clearly drunker than ever and Antonio was clearly soaked to the bone. The blonde clicked his fingers to the maid he was talking to, and she swept from the room, to return seconds later with a bucket for the German.
"I found him n-near to here drunker than ever, I was on my way back from Romano's when I found him." Antonio frowned, before Gilbert keeled over to vomit in the bucket. Francis frowned.
"Rodrich and Elizabeta got married today." Antonio simply sighed as Francis patted the silver haired man's had a feeling that the fiery little Hungarian had a part to play in Gilbert's drunkness. He frowned.
"I think some of your clothes are still drying from the last time Gilbert was drunk and you slept over in them..." he turned to the maid, who nodded to see if the clothes in question had dried; in the run up to the wedding, their friend had been drinking his sorrows away every night, but tonight he seemed worse. Usually they'd end up staying with him to make sure he didn't choke on his vomit in his sleep or something, or taking him to Ludwig's so that the wurst lover could perform his younger brother duties.
"Great, they don't smell of beer sick anymore." the tanned man grinned as the maid handed them back. She also placed a set of Gilbert's clothes on the chair. "They don't either!" he grinned after sniffing the black pants and white shirt.
"You can go to sleep now, Anais." Francis nodded to the maid, who nodded, before frowning.
"I'll make up the spare bed first, if that's okay. It seems your friends are staying again."
"That would be great, my dear." Francis purred, and she made her way down a corridor.
"We need to get him in a shower first." Antonio frowned, as Gilbert looked up, his eyes dilated and staring at the pair of them.
"I-I need to talk to-tooo Elizab*hic*beta" his red eyes were dull and his fair messed in the wrong places, it looked kinda cute.
"You cant, I'm sorry."
"B-but"
"You're drunk, but we're going to help you, right Antonio?" Francis swept in, before sliding an arm under his armpit and hoisting him to his feet. The sudden movement made him throw up down his front and it just made the bucket.
"Yeah, you can go tomorrow." Antonio held his other side and they managed to get him down he hallway. Francis and Antonio managed to get him to undress and shower, and waited patiently staring at the door as he did so, in case he threw up again. Francis hurled his robe over Gilbert and they carried him to the bed Anais had made, before throwing him onto it.
"Guys...?" he hiccuped as he landed onto the bed. "I-I really want Elizabeta..."
"She's married now..." Antonio frowned.
"But she-she loves me?!" the drunk man crowed into the pillow.
"She'll be fine, you should know she's a fighter." I muttered, and awkwardly patted his silvery hair.
"Too much of a fighter." Antonio agreed.
"When they crash and burn, I'll have to pick up the pieces..." Gilbert frowned.
"That's the beer talking." Antonio muttered, as some chirping began at the window. "Oh it's your birdy, Gilbert!" he opened the latch and the yellow chick flew straight for the almost asleep man.
"Send a message to Ludwigsaying I'm alright."
"Will do." Francis nodded, and the pair began to leave Gilbert to sleep.
"A-and send a message to Elizabeta saying I'm-I'm sorry."
A/N: this was fun to write! And please no comments on them being Pervs/Pedos/Rapists and what evers. THEY'RE NOT!
