"For the last time, I don't want to go out drinking with you." Canada sighed, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading. They were hanging out in Canada's apartment, as America was visiting for the weekend. They were currently in the living room, and Canada was sitting in an arm chair, with America standing behind him. America pouted, and draped his body over the top half of his brother.
"Aww, come on, it'll be fun!" America whined, making sure to put as much of his body weight on his brother as possible. "It's no fun drinking by yourself! It's just pathetic!"
"Will you get your fat body off me?" Canada asked with a huff, smacking his brother face repeatably with his book. "I'm being crushed."
"Ow, stop hitting me!" America yelped, but refusing to get off his brother. "And no, not until you agree to go out with me!"
"No!" Canada said irritably, attempting to push his brother off his shoulders. "Why can't you just let me be an introvert in peace? You know I don't like going to bars. I really don't need a headache from loud music and drunk people."
"You need to get out of the house more!" America argued, but he was suddenly pushed off by his brother and in surprise fell to the floor with an oof. Sighing, Canada shot his brother an annoyed look. "Look, if you really want to go out you can, but stop bugging me."
America pouted, and glared at his brother from the floor with a huff. "You don't love me." America accused him.
"I do in fact love you, even if you are an idiot." Canada said with a smirk. "Now leave me alone."
As Canada went back to reading his book, America let out a defeated sigh and got off the floor. "Fine, but if I'm kidnapped or robbed at gun point I'm blaming you."
"Mm-Hmm." Canada hummed, "You'll be fine."
"I'm going to blow up the moon." America said.
"That's nice."
"I've decided to become a stripper."
"Have fun with that."
"Cuba asked me out."
"Uh-huh."
"Are you even listening to me?"
"That's lovely."
"Ok, fine. Be a boring asshole. I'll build my own bar! With blackjack and hookers!"
"I believe that's called Vegas."
"Oh, so you can respond to me when you're being a smart ass." America huffed, grabbing his keys from the front door, and throwing a glare at Canada as he opened the door.
"I try my best." Canada said with a smug look. "Text me if you get too drunk."
"Whatever, see you later loser." America said, sticking his tongue out at his brother and slamming the door behind him just to piss his brother off.
As he walked down the street, he looked around. He was currently in a small city, as Canada didn't like to live in any of the bigger cities. Thankfully, they weren't in an area that was totally isolated either, so there were a few places to go and party. Unfortunately, about halfway to the bar he realized he had left his wallet back at his brother's place, and that had his ID in it, so he couldn't get into the bar.
America considered his choices. He could go back to his brother's place and retrieve his wallet, but he really didn't feel like going back there just yet, only because he didn't want Canada getting on his case about slamming the door. (It was one of his pet peeves.) And he obviously couldn't go to the bar now. And he only had two dollars in his pocket. It was also late, and he wasn't in the best part of town now.
"This calls for snacks." America said happily, walking over to a nearby vending machine. "Nothing bad has ever happened to someone while buying food from a vending machine! At least, I don't think so…" America pondered as he put in his money. As he decided what to pick, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Like he was being watched.
"Nah, it's probably nothing." America hummed to himself. "And I'm not getting into any shit tonight. Nope, no sir." Ignoring his instincts that were telling him to get the fuck out of there, he decided to pick a hard candy. He pressed the button for the candy, and the candy started to move forwards, and as it fell it got stuck.
"Aw man, come on. That was my last two dollars!" America muttered, smacking the glass, trying to get the candy to move. When it didn't, America started to shake the machine. "I swear, if I don't get my sugar fix I will murder you!" America threatened the machine.
After banging on the glass for a minute, America was about to cut his losses and go back to Canada's place and try and grab his wallet when a hand flew past his face and into the glass, breaking it. America let out a girly shriek and grabbing the candy that fallen at his feet and threw it at the person behind him. It hit the person square in the face, but instead of, ya know, dying from America's super strength throw the person simply chuckled as the candy bag burst.
"America, I didn't know you could scream in such a high pitch." Russia chuckled as he peeled the now empty candy wrapper off of his face, giving America an amused look.
"RUSSIA?" America asked in total bewilderment. "What the fuck are you doing here? Why did you just break that vending machine? WERE YOU TRYING TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF ME?"
"I broke it because it seemed you were having trouble with it." Russia said simply, walking past America and pulling out a dollar and putting it in the machine like nothing happened. "As for if I was trying to scare you, I wasn't. I was simply trying to help." After deciding which chips he wanted, he pressed in the buttons and the chips feel to his feet.
"That still doesn't explain why you're here." America pointed out. "What are you doing? Stalking me?"
"Well, to put it simply yes." Russia said with a shrug. "I'm actually surprised you haven't noticed me sooner. It wasn't like I was hiding it or anything. You've really let your guard down since the cold war times my friend."
America sputtered in shock for a moment as Russia munched on his chips, then he exploded with anger. "YOU'VE BEEN STALKING ME?"
"Yes, I just said that." Russia said calmly. "There is no need for you to ask a question I have just answered."
"How long have you been following me?" America asked, glaring at Russia in suspicion.
"Ah, let's see. It's October now, so I would say around, a month." Russia answered after a moment.
America struggled for words for a minute, then with a defeated sigh he sat down on the pavement and just put his head in his hands. "And for what purpose exactly have you been following me around?"
"No particular reason. I was just bored." Russia said with a shrug, putting another two dollars into the machine, and picking out the same candies America had chosen earlier.
"So, anything of interest in my life?" America asked. "It's hardly like I've been up to much."
"No, as you say, I've found that your life is extremely dull." Russia agreed as he threw America the packet of candies. America caught them in surprise as Russia sat down next to him. "In fact, I was so bored that I decided to reveal myself simply because I was getting bored with you not noticing me."
"Great." America huffed, opening the packet and popping a candy in his mouth. "I'm so boring my stalker got bored with me."
"Not to mention that you've been kind a kill joy these last few weeks." Russia pointed out. "I've heard of teenagers being moody but honestly, watching you be angsty these last few weeks has made me feel like I'm watching you be a hormonal teenage girl."
"That's really weird man. And I'm not being 'angsty' as you put it," America said, making air quotes with his hands, "I'm just been kind of down in the dumps for some reason."
"So, you're being angsty." Russia said in amusement.
"I'm not angsty!" America protested angerly. "I'm the hero! Hero's don't angst!"
"Batman does. Spiderman too. They're pretty famous for being angsty." Russia pointed out.
"Shut up." America said with a huff. "Don't you dare use my own heroes against me."
"Anyways, you're angsty behavior is part of the reason I'm stalking you." Russia admitted. "To be honest, I've been wondering why you haven't been bouncing off the walls like you usually do. Obviously, anytime you're not cheerful is a cause for worry, because that means you're up to something, or something is affecting you and thus might affect me in the future."
"And you couldn't just ask me how I'm doing like a regular person?" America asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
"What's the fun in that?" Russia asked with a yawn. "Plus, I can't be seen being concerned for you, people would think I'm up to something."
"Yeah, well they wouldn't be wrong." America muttered.
"Anyways, since you now know my intentions, I will ask you outright. Is there something bothering you?" Russia asked, giving America an almost concerned look.
America shrugged. "Nothing in particular. I've just haven't been feeling overly cheerful these last weeks. I mean, there isn't a particular reason. I've just been feeling kind of blah. You know?"
"Hmm." Russia hummed in thought, munching on a chip with a serious look on his face. "I can understand in a way."
"Really?" America asked in mild surprise.
"I often feel that way when there is a particularly bad snow storm at my place, forcing me to stay indoors for a long period of time." Russia explained.
"Well, I am sure that isn't my problem." America said with a disappointed look. "The leaves haven't even started changing in some parts of my country."
"I might have the cure for your bleakness though." Russia said, suddenly looking cheerful. "It is an old Russian tradition that has been carried through generations. It can make even the most stone hearted person cheerful."
"Yeah, and what's that?" America asked curiously.
"Drinking!" Russia announced. "You are still a growing boy, obviously you need alcohol to help you grow into a real man."
"Excuse you!" America said, glaring at Russia in annoyance. "I am a man!"
"Nonsense." Russia scoffed. "You don't have any hair on your chest."
"EXCUSE YOU!" America shouted. "I HAVE NEVER BEEN SHIRTLESS AROUND YOU! JUST HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT?"
"Can you even grow a beard?" Russia asked in amusement at the raging American in front of him.
"I mean, not rea- WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?" America shouted, his face growing red.
"If you can't even grow a beard, you obviously can't have chest hair." Russia said, patting America's head. "It is alright, I'm sure you will be a man one day."
"I didn't need a beard to kick your ass!" America shouted, throwing the now empty candy wrapper at Russia, who dodged it with a laugh.
"It is alright." Russia said, standing up and lifting America up on his feet. "We can fix that problem tonight. I shall take you, what is the term, bar hopping!"
"I don't even have my ID on me." America pointed out. "I can't get into the bars without ID."
"Oh, were we are going you will not need ID." Russia said with a smirk. "You did not think I was taking you to some weak bars, did you? No, tonight you will be drinking Russian style."
"I don't know what drinking Russian style means, but it doesn't sound legal." America commented as he followed Russia down the street.
"That's because it's not." Russia said with a grin.
"This isn't going to kill me will it?" America asked with a hint of worry in his voice. "I mean, we can't all be all alcoholic loving Russians that can't get drunk."
"I would never kill you in such a way." Russia almost purred.
"Well, that was not comforting at all." America muttered as Russia led him down an alleyway and to a shady looking door. Knocking twice, a little window opened. Russia and the man spoke in quick Russian for a moment, then the man glared at America.
"He is with me." Russia assured. The man gave America one last glare, then shut the window. The door opened, and he was ushered into a dingy little bar. The first thing America noticed was how grimy the bar was. He didn't think this place had ever seen a broom in its life. The second thing that hit him was the smell. It smelled strongly of alcohol. Like, pure alcohol. It actually made America a bit dizzy. The final thing he noticed is how he did not fit in at all. Everyone in the bar either looked like an acholic or looked like a murderer.
"You sure pick the most cheerful places." America joked weakly as Russia picked out a corner booth for them to sit at.
"Da, I know. I often come here when I visit North America." Russia said cheerfully.
"Hey, did I mention that I don't have my wallet on me." America said suddenly. "I can't pay for anything."
"Oh, that is no problem. I'll be paying for everything tonight." Russia said, patting America on the shoulder. "You can pay me back later."
"Great." America muttered.
"Stay here, and I'll go and get our drinks. Oh, and don't make eye contact with anyone." Russia said, and with that he left America and walked over to the bar.
Glancing around the bar, America noticed how most of the people were glaring at him suspiciously. Quickly looking away, America stared down at the table. He did not feel comfortable. After what felt like years, Russia walked back over with a number of bottles in his hands.
"Tonight, I will be treating you!" Russia said cheerfully as he sat down and placed the bottles on the table. "This bar is special because it serves some of the most acholic drinks in the world! Illegal or not!"
'That sounds shady.' America thought.
"Anyways, we're not going to be drinking large glasses of this stuff." Russia said with a slight chuckle as he pulled out shot glasses. "Unlike me, if you drink too much you could die, and I'd rather not deal with that mess. Your brother would probably kill me."
"Yeah, after he's done killing me." America said with a shudder.
"Let's start with something small. This one is called Grappa. It's a brandy with Italian origins, and this bottle has 60% alcohol in it." Russia said, pouring the drink into the shot glasses.
As Russia downed the shot, America did as well. To put it simply, the stuff tasted horrible.
"Oh god." America gasped, his face screwing up. "That tastes like rocket fuel. Bleh."
"If you think that's bad, you are in for a rough night my friend." Russia laughed, putting his glass back on the table with a thunk.
"Do you have anything that tastes better?" America asked, wiping his mouth.
"We'll see." Russia said, pouring America another shot.
A FEW HOURS LATER
Russia couldn't remember the last time he had gotten totally wasted. He had been drinking for so long that all he ever felt from drinking a large amount of alcohol was a slight buzz. Tonight was no exception, but unlike other nights he did get to experience something he had never seen before. A completely shit faced America.
"Hey Russia…" America slurred, swaying a little in his seat.
"Yes?" Russia asked, downing another shot.
"How are you not plastered?" America asked, waving his hand awkwardly in Russia's direction.
"I am Russian." Russia explained with an amused look.
America blinked in confusion, then nodded slowly. "Oh, ok." Looking around him, he frowned.
"Hey Russia?"
"Yes?"
"I…uh," America started, then paused. "Um, what was I about to say?"
Russia chuckled at the confusion on America's face. So America was a confused drunk. That was interesting. Russia had expected America to be an excited drunk, or even a happy drunk.
"Whatever, it doesn't matter." America said, putting his head down on the table.
"Are you ok?" Russia asked.
"I'm ok. Just dizzy." America muttered.
"I'm not surprised. You drank quite a bit." Russia said, glancing down at the shot glasses surrounding them. While America's pile wasn't as large as his, he was still impressed. If America hadn't been a personification, he would be in the hospital with alcohol poisoning about now.
"Hey Russia?" America asked again, lifting his head and attempting to focus on Russia.
"Yes?"
"Why don't you like me?"
'Oh boy.' Russia thought as he put down his drink. If he didn't handle this correctly, he was going to have a drunk, crying America on his hands. "I don't hate you." Russia answered.
"Yeah you do." America said, pointing an accusing finger at Russia. "You said so."
"That was during the cold war." Russia pointed out.
"Still counts." America said with a pout. "I don't get it, you used to be nice to me."
"Yes, but that was when you weren't such an egotistical burger muncher." Russia said with a smirk.
"You're mean." America whined. "You're a Meany head. I hate you."
"I think you've had enough to drink." Russia said, pulling the liquor bottle away from America.
"Nah, I'm fine." America slurred with a clumsy thumbs up.
"Right." Russia said, unconvinced. They fell back into silence again, then America gave Russia a thoughtful look.
"Hey Russia?"
Russia sighed. "Yes America?"
"Do you like snow?"
Russia blinked in surprise. It was well known that he actually didn't like snow very much. "No, I find it to be unpleasant. It is too cold, and it is a pain to travel in."
America looked disappointed. "You don't like snow?"
"No."
"Not even to play in?" America asked.
Russia thought for a moment, then shrugged. "The novelty of it has worn off for me."
America hummed in thought, then picked up a shot glass and stared at it for a moment. "I don't like snow because it's cold. I don't like the cold. And it's a pain the ass to shovel. But I like…like playing with it. It's fun." America slurred.
"How does that make sense?" Russia asked. "How can you hate it and love it?"
"Good thoughts." America answered. "Good thoughts keep me warm."
"You aren't making sense."
America shifted his gaze to look at Russia. "Good thoughts. Ya know? Like, I have good thoughts with snow. Good…uh, what's the word? You know, remembering?"
"Memories?" Russia offered, and America nodded happily.
"Yeah! Memories!" America said with a grin. "From when I was a little kid." Looking back in the glass in his hands, a soft expression came over America's face. "Like my bro. I have a lot of memories of us playing in the snow. He's kind of like snow that I think about it. Soft and interesting, but dangerous when underestimated. And with England. He used to yell at me for tracking snow into the house, but he'd read me stories by the fireplace. And I built a snowman with-" but America stopped talking, and a sad look came over his face.
"Oh, I just made myself sad." America muttered, putting the glass back on the table.
Russia gave America a sympathetic look. He didn't really know what America was remembering, but he decided not to pry. Instead, he changed the topic. "Why were you thinking about snow anyways?"
"I don't know." America said with a shrug. "Every time I hang out with you, I think about snow."
"Because I am cold?" Russia asked.
"Nah." America said with a shake of his head. "Cause you're, uh, like… I don't know." America gave a huff of frustration. "I don't know how to describe you. It's like, you're like calm one second, like fresh snow on the ground, and then in an instant you can turn dangerous like a blizzard. You remind me of snow, that's all I guess."
Russia considered this for a moment. "When I am around you, I think about the sky."
America gave Russia a confused stare. "Huh?"
"You remind me of the sky." Russia said.
"Yeah?" America asked in interest. "How come?"
"You're always changing." Russia said. "One minute you can be all sunny, and then you can be a hurricane. You can be dangerous, or you can be pleasant. Sometimes you're one way, then another day you're another."
"Nah, I'm not like that." America said with a laugh. "I'm always sunny. This conversation is boring." America suddenly said, looking around the bar. "Hey, Russia?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"What is it?" Russia asked, plucking a chip from the basket in front of him and eating it.
"Are we friends?"
"I don't know." Russia said with a shrug. "We are allies, so I suppose we are on friendly terms."
"No." America said, shaking his head quickly. "I mean, are we friends?"
Russia just gave America a blank look. "I'm not following you." Russia said with a frown.
America sighed in frustration. "Are we friends? Like, not America and Russia but Alfred and Ivan?"
"I-, well…um…" Russia stammered in surprise. No one had ever asked him a question like that. He didn't really think of himself outside of his personification. Ivan and Russia were one in the same to him. "I'm not sure."
"Oh." America said, looking disappointed. There was an awkward pause, then America continued. "It's just we've been getting along well lately."
"I suppose we have." Russia said with a thoughtful look.
"And I don't have a lot of friends, so it would be nice to have more." America said sadly.
"That is not true." Russia argued. "What about Japan?"
"Yeah, but I haven't seen him in a while." America explained. "He's busy with stuff."
"What about England?" Russia asked.
"He's more like my brother than my friend." America said with a shrug. "Same with Canada. And no offense to them, because they're like family to me, but I mean…"
"France?" Russia tried.
"He's like my weird Uncle." America said with a snort of laugher.
"China?"
"He's more like a work buddy."
"Italy?"
"I don't know about him."
"Germany?"
"Work buddy."
"Lithuania?"
"Yeah!" America said brightly. "Yeah, we're buddy's!"
"So that's two." Russia said kindly, but America deflated again.
"Not a lot of people like me." America muttered. Russia opened his mouth to argue, but then realizing that America actually had a point, he closed it again.
"I don't get it." America sniffed, tears building in the corner of his eyes. "I try so hard to be nice and heroic and shit, and people just want to punch me in the face."
Russia sighed. "America, I have no idea what to tell you. If you want advice on making friends, you probably shouldn't come to me for advice."
"People just use me." America said sadly. "They're only nice to me when they want something from me. Then they go back to hating me when they get what they want."
'Oh boy.' Russia thought. 'Turns out he's an emotional drunk.'
"It's not fair." America wailed as he started to cry. "Why is everyone so mean to me?"
At this point, other people in the bar were starting to send irritated glances their direction. Russia sighed, and flagged for the bill. So much for having an amusing evening.
After paying the bill, Russia pulled America from the booth and helped the sobbing teen out the door. America was swaying quite a bit and was clinging onto Russia to stay upright.
"America, calm down." Russia said, awkwardly patting the younger nation on the back.
"No." America said with a hiccup. "It's not fair. I want friends."
"Why me?" Russia muttered under his breath as he pulled America out of the alleyway and towards the main street. This evening wasn't turning out at all like he planned.
"I want to go home." America sniffed.
"I'm taking you home." Russia assured America.
"No, I want to go home." America wailed.
"I'm taking you home." Russia repeated with a sigh.
America started crying again and tried to push Russia away from him. "No, you're going to kidnap me again!"
"For god's sake-, America calm down." Russia said, grabbing the teen's arm and dragging him in the direction of Canada's house. "No one is going to kidnap you."
"You did." America said in an accusing tone.
"Once!" Russia argued. "And you didn't even try to escape!"
"I was too confused to run away!" he yelled. "Let me go!"
"No, you're going to hurt yourself. Just calm down!" Russia demanded.
"No!"
Fed up, Russia grabbed America around the waist and threw him over his shoulder. America let out a squeak of surprise at being flung around like a sack of potatoes.
"Now, I'm taking you back to your brother." Russia said firmly as he started walking.
"Lemme go!" America yelled, struggling to get out of Russia's grip. "You jerk!"
Russia ignored America's cursing and punches as they walked down the street for about ten minutes. It wasn't like America was actually hurting him, as he was too drunk to actually put any force behind the blows. But he was yelling loudly, and if he didn't stop he was going to draw attention.
"America, if you shut up I'll buy you ice cream." Russia offered.
America stopped fighting and gave Russia a confused look. "Ice-cream?"
"Yes, ice-cream." Russia said patiently. "But you need to be quiet."
America considered this for a moment, then with a sigh he finally stopped fighting. "Fine." He muttered.
Sighing with relief, Russia walked towards a nearby gas station and after America picked out what he wanted, they sat outside the store on a bench eating their desserts.
"Sorry that I called you a jerk." America muttered.
"It's fine." Russia sighed. "Just please don't start crying again."
"Ok." America said. After a few minutes of blessed silence, America spoke up again. "This is why my brother won't go drinking with me."
"Really?" Russia asked, not at all surprised.
"But he's just as bad when he goes out." America added. "But he gets slightly aggressive. Never towards me mind you, but towards the people around me. And that's not even when he gets drunk."
"Why?" Russia asked in surprise.
"I couldn't tell you." America said with a shrug. "Something about perverts."
Russia didn't comment but raised an eyebrow. That was odd. Suddenly, America started to sniff.
"Please don't start crying again." Russia begged.
"Are we friends?" America asked again, giving Russia a pleading look. "I mean, it's cool if you don't want to be, and I would probably never tell you this sober, but I think you're actually kind of fun to hang around with."
Russia stared at America in shock. He actually felt his jaw open in shock. Then with an awkward cough, he shrugged. "I guess we can be friends."
America's whole demeanor changed as Russia said that. His face lit up and he started to bounce up and down. "Really!? You mean it?" America asked excitedly.
"Uh, sure?" Russia said.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" America yelled happily. To Russia's surprise, America threw his arms around Russia and gave him a big hug. Russia, unsure what to do, hugged America back.
"Um, you're welcome?" Russia said.
Just then, he felt a chill go down his spine. Looking behind him, his face paled when he saw Canada behind him. He looked really pissed. America on the other hand, was thrilled.
"Mattie!" America said cheerfully, letting go of Russia and running over to his brother. "When did you get here?"
"I was driving by." Canada said coolly. "I was actually looking for you. It was getting pretty late, and I was getting worried."
"Hey, guess what! I made a new friend!" America said excitedly, pointing at Russia.
"I see that." Canada said, pushing America towards his car. "Why don't you tell me all about it in the car?"
"Ok!" America said cheerfully. Waving at Russia, he added, "Bye Russia! Thanks for the drinks!" and with that, he bounced towards Canada's car.
"So, you're the reason my brother is drunk out of his mind." Canada said icily.
"Uh, yes?" Russia said uncertainly.
"And just what do you think you're doing getting him that drunk?" Canada asked, his eyes narrowing.
"I just thought he would like a drink." Russia explained.
"Don't think I haven't noticed you following him." Canada said coldly. "You're up to something."
"I swear, I just was being nice." Russia tried to explain.
"You don't just do 'nice' things." Canada said. "If I find out you were trying to take advantage of him while he was drunk, I'll use your head as a hockey puck."
"What do you mean take advantage?" Russia asked in confusion. Suddenly, he remembered what America had said about Canada just a minute ago and his face turned bright red. "NO, THAT'S NOT IT AT ALL!"
"A likely story." Canada huffed. "I saw you with your hands all over him."
"HE WAS JUST GIVING ME A HUG!" Russia shouted. "He was being emotional about not having friends."
"That better be all." Canada said with a glare. "Now if you excuse me, I need to take my brother home. Remember, I have eyes everywhere." And with that final threat, Canada left. Russia sat down again and as Canada pulled away, he made a vow to never take America drinking again. It just was too much trouble.
LINEBREAK
"Kill me." America groaned as he rested his head on the rim of the toilet.
"It's your fault for drinking so much." Canada said with a smirk.
"Just shoot me." America whined. "It'd be more merciful."
"Don't be such a drama queen." Canada said with a snicker as America starting hurling again.
"Uh, what the hell were in those drinks?" America gasped. "I swear, I'm going to kick Russia's ass next time I see him."
"Speaking of Russia, why were you drinking with him in the first place?" Canada asked, leaning against the sink.
"I don't remember. Something about putting hair on my chest or something." America groaned. "Please tell me I didn't do anything stupid."
"Well, you hugged Russia." Canada said. "And Russia mentioned something about you being emotional about not having friends."
America looked at Canada in horror, then slammed his head down on the toilet. "Please kill me. I don't want to live anymore."
A/N: This chapter is the one I promised for the celebration for 1000 favorites! America and Russia getting into trouble again, with a bit of overprotective Canada! And I've been looking through my reviews, and I just want to say, yes, I will be doing a few suggestions. All in good time. Anyways, like always, there is no romance in my story, just shit's and giggles. But like always, feel free to strap on your shipping goggles. Now I'm going to bed.