Ok, how do you not do this one for 'D'. It's just asking to be done. Again I wish I could draw, such a cute ending scene. -sighs-

Summary: "I'm not drunk!" Arthur defended, feeling rather drunk.

I own nothing.

D= Drunk

It was his fourth…no, his fifth…full glass of brandy. He really didn't know what was going on any more, or how much he had consumed…maybe even what he consumed. All he knew was that the bar tender was cutting him off, giving him suggestions to go home, he would call a cab. He didn't want a cab, he wanted whatever he had had before, and home was so far away, how would he get there?

He didn't know what he was saying, but everyone was looking at him like he was crazy. He knew his mouth was moving and slurred English was coming out, but other then that he didn't know anything else. He wish he had someone else to talk to, aside from the glasses who were rather good listeners, why could everyone be like the glasses and leave him alone, not talk back when he was talking.

Glass cups were what he wished Alfred could be sometimes…but then maybe he wouldn't have had his eyes opened to what he was doing. He buried his face in his arms, hiding from the glasses and everyone else who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Something started poking the side of his head, in the blonde dirty blonde hair above his ear. It was growing rather annoying; he hoped it was a fairy trying to tell him he should go home…or 'home'. He groaned, turning his head, finding rather curious blue eye behind glasses, which looked a lot like Alfred's, he also was almost poked in the eye. That only put him in a worse mood, for it wasn't what he thought. No, it was some wanna-be-hero, who was a ungrateful, independent declaring brat.

"Arthur?" He asked, Arthur looked at him lazily.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" He snapped, and Alfred cringed a little. Arthur hadn't realized the harshness of his voice and the caring worry in Alfred's

"Come on, we should go back to my place." Alfred said…or rather suggested as he pushed and pulled Arthur along. "You're drunk again." His voice seemed to frown on Arthur as well as his face did.

"I'm not drunk!" Arthur defended, feeling rather drunk.

Alfred nodded, giving a small 'yeah, sure, whatever you say' as the existed the bar. Alfred thanked the bar tender for something, or rather he yelled it as they left the door, and the yell just so happened to go straight in Arthur's ear. Arthur was ranting, complaining, maybe just rambling on about something to no end. Either way Alfred just listened and nodded, adding small little comments to show he was listening.

Arthur eventually fell asleep, he didn't remember where, or when, but Alfred's should become rather comfy.

Arthur woke up the next morning with a horrible hang over, and in some comfy bed. He looked at the clock it was slightly past noon. He sat up, ignoring the headache that was drilling into his head, looking around. He was in some guest room…with a small puff of blonde hair peeking over at the foot of the bed.

He crawled over to find Alfred sleeping soundly at the foot of the bed, the position hurt a little just looking at him, but other then that Arthur though it was sweet. He smiled…maybe he should go back to the bar…slightly more often.

Please RxR