Full Prompt- Song: Like it's her Birthday by Good Charlotte
This had probably been a bad idea.
The two of them together didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to parties. Why either of them had thought this would be different, Gilbert didn't know. Maybe because Alfred wasn't hosting it, in fact he wasn't even there. It was strictly European nations tonight, but still…both of them going out and getting drunk around the other nations was a recipe for disaster. And for slip-ups.
Francis and Ludwig already knew about them. It wasn't like they could risk anybody else finding out, they were on a slippery slope as it was already. How long would it be before their secret was out? Not long if they continued like this.
None of which had anything to do with the fact that Gilbert had lost Lovino about half an hour ago. He hadn't thought anything of it for a while, just that Lovino had probably gone to get another drink. It wasn't until he'd realised how long it'd been that he started to get worried. As drunk as he was, Lovino could be doing something stupid.
Which he was.
Gilbert wasn't even sure how Lovino had managed to get onto the table after drinking that much, although it was definitely a possibility that either Francis or Ivan had pulled him up. Lovino wasn't exactly the type to get up on a table and start dancing, drunk or not. Gilbert was actually more concerned with how the hell the table was supporting all of their weight, especially with the large Russian dancing on it.
Even though he knew he really shouldn't, Gilbert couldn't help but take out his phone and record some of…whatever was going on. He took a few pictures too, smirking at the good ones. Lovino was definitely going to regret this in the morning, especially if Gilbert had to remind him about it first. Now, how to go about getting Lovino off the table without completely screwing both of them over?
The answer turned out to be a lot simpler than he'd thought. He'd been right to think the table wasn't designed to take the weight of a dancing Russian, Frenchman and Italian. Just as Gilbert was about to return his phone to his pocket, a large crack sounded from the table. The three nations atop it continued dancing obliviously, and Gilbert pressed the record button just in time to capture the table buckling under the strain. The three drunken nations remained oblivious until they came crashing down to the ground, laying dazed in a mess of splintered wood.
The room immediately descended into silence, someone having the sense to stop the music as the rest of the partygoers stood staring down at the remains of the table. The three nations affected had very differing reactions. Ivan was surrounded by a dark purple aura, darkly letting out constant chant of 'kolkolkol'. Francis had been knocked unconscious, or had passed out after landing on the ground, Gilbert couldn't be sure. Strangely, Lovino looked the least affected, sitting slightly confused and mostly conscious on the floor.
After a few moments of stunned silence, everyone sprung into action. A few people approached Ivan hesitantly, attempting to help him up despite the Russian's assurances that he was fine. Feliciano was at his brother's side in an instant, Ludwig trotting dutifully after him. Gilbert desperately wanted to go to him, but with Francis lying unconscious on the floor he knew it would look suspicious if he didn't go to his friend's side. Antonio was already beside him, and Lovino was just going to love him going to Francis and Antonio rather than him, if he remembered. Gilbert really hoped he didn't.
"Francis, wake up," he said as Antonio gently shook the blonde nation. When he didn't respond, they exchanged a glance.
"We should probably get him to his room," Antonio said. Gilbert nodded.
Wordlessly they each slung one of the Frenchman's arms across their shoulders, supporting his weight between them as they half carried, half dragged him up the stairs to the guest rooms. By the time they'd deposited Francis unceremoniously on his bed, Antonio was swaying on his feet and Gilbert was reminded of how much he'd had to drink.
"I think I'll call it a night," Antonio said, shaking his head slightly to clear it.
"Me too," Gilbert admitted, although he had other plans in mind.
As soon as Antonio had disappeared into his room, Gilbert moved from where he'd been standing in his doorway, pretending to enter the room, intent on finding Lovino. It wouldn't be that hard to get near him, since Feliciano would be there meaning Ludwig would as well, giving Gilbert a legitimate reason to hang around Lovino.
Fortunately, it turned out to be a lot simpler than that. He nearly collided with Feliciano and Ludwig on the staircase, both attempting to help a protesting Lovino to his room.
Ludwig looked about ready to give up and leave Lovino swaying on the stairs, while Feliciano was torn between exasperation and concern.
"He okay?" Gilbert asked, nodding towards Lovino.
"I told you two I'm fine! I can get to my own damn room," Lovino said, pulling himself unsteadily up the stairs.
Feliciano whined quietly as Lovino refused his help, pouting even as Ludwig wrapped an arm around him. Without thinking, Gilbert spoke.
"I'll make sure he gets to his room," he said, internally slapping himself for letting it slip.
Luckily, Feliciano seemed to tipsy to really question the Prussian's motives. Smiling brightly, he embraced Gilbert with as much strength as he could managed before turning on his heel to wobble back down to the party, which seemed to be going in full swing again judging from the music now blaring.
After a second's hesitation, Ludwig nodded to his brother before following Feliciano, albeit surer on his feet. The sound of a loud bang drew Gilbert's attention to the hallway behind him, where he found Lovino sprawled out on the ground, rubbing his head.
"How much did you drink?" Gilbert asked as he hoisted him up, not expecting an answer. He didn't get one.
Supporting most of the Italian's weight, Gilbert managed to drag Lovino into his room. He laid him on the bed with much more care than he had Francis, locking the door behind them quickly before returning to Lovino's side. In the few seconds he'd been away, Lovino had passed out. Gilbert just hoped he didn't have a concussion.
He remembered a day in Paris, when he'd been the one drunk and acting stupidly, and he'd been the one hurt. Lovino had been the one to come rescue him then, although Gilbert hadn't been fast enough to actually catch Lovino when he fell. Sometimes he really wished they could just tell everyone that they were dating, and this was one of those moments.
But he knew, as well as Lovino did, that there may never come a time for that. So instead of thinking about what he wanted, Gilbert focused on what he had, which was a drunk, injured and unconscious Italian. With a sigh that was entirely forced, he pulled the covers over Lovino before laying down beside him, brushing hair out of the Italian's closed eyes before curling up around him protectively, eyes falling shut. That was how he fell asleep, holding Lovino close and wondering how much of this either would remember in the morning.