Another 1 am snippet. This time, inspired by a question I got on Tumblr some time ago. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Summary: Canada has had a bit too much to drink and America is an overbearingly overprotective older brother (and an unreliable narrator).

One Sip Too Many

Alfred's attentive eyes scanned the room, briefly landing on each of the small groups clustered around the tables. The low music and dim lighting slowly seeped into his body in a soothing wave, promising a relaxing evening after that row of conferences. Just one small task, and Alfred would be at ease. His lips spontaneously curved into a smile as he caught sight of a glossy, wavy mop of strawberry blond hair.

"Hey, Mattie, there you are!"

He quickened his pace to reach his brother just as the latter turned towards him. Matthew stumbled over something Alfred couldn't see, but his entire face lit up as he spotted his brother.

"Al! You're finally here, I'm so glad, Al!"

Alfred found himself halting for a moment at the surprise. Such a loud declaration wasn't quite like the meek Matthew he knew… Nevertheless, he was quite pleased to elicit such a reaction from his brother.

Another step, and Alfred's arm were filled with Matthew's body, who all but threw himself at him.

"Woah there, bro! Enthusiastic much?"

Matthew fervently nodded against his neck and muttered something unintelligible. He didn't try to get his weight back on his own two legs but clung to Alfred's sweater.

Alfred frowned, the excitement wilting into concern.

"Hey, you all right? Don't tell me you sprained an ankle or something…"

Matthew looked up at him. The smile stretching his lips was too wide, almost dazed; his cheeks cherry red.

"Oh no no… Totally fine. Everything's fine! It's so perfect you, know? We're all here and everything's good and perfect but even if I was happy I was kind of sad you weren't here because you were missing a lot of fun—"

Even without hearing Matthew's words, Alfred could have surmised what had happened from the smell that hit his nostrils. His entire body stiffened, the cheerfulness of a moment earlier all but forgotten.

He firmly detached his brother from his chest and kept him at arms-length, staring at his face. He had to tighten the hold on Matthew's shoulders as the boy wavered.

"Matthew? What did you drink?"

Matthew didn't react to the barely suppressed anger seeping through Alfred's voice. Instead, his addled smile widened.

"Eh… nothing much. It did taste good though! It burned at first, but then it was good. You should try a sip, I think you'd like it! Everybody liked it. I was a bit dubious at first but Ivan was right, it was good, and Ivan was super nice, you know? He told me he'd give me another one—"

Alfred's stomach coiled in fury. Of course Russia was behind it. In fact, Russia was sitting at a nearby table, sipping from a glass. His expression was neutral, but his eyes had followed Matthew.

"You," Alfred spat out.

Russia stared back at him.

"Are you blaming me for your brother's lack of restraint? I merely offered him a drink which he accepted of his own will. I didn't think he would be such a lightweight."

His stony features didn't betray any emotion, but was that a malicious glint in his eyes? Alfred was quite sure of that. He gritted his teeth, fury mounting inside his chest.

"Of course you didn't. Just like you didn't know Matthew isn't old enough to drink alcohol, I bet."

At that moment, the subject of the conversation finally registered what was going on and pawned at Alfred's arm with a small whine.

"Oh no no… Why are you mad, Al? Don't be mad. We're all friends here! We can all have fun together!"

"Not now, Matthew!"

Alfred pushed Matthew against his side, away from Russia's eyes, that were bright with mirth.

"Centuries old, fought into wars and bled for his own and other countries, but not old enough to drink alcohol. Sounds quite a contradiction, to me. And your brother seems to agree. He could have refused any time."

Matthew muttered something, but Alfred ignored him. He chose to scowl at Russia instead of acknowledging the way his stomach turned.

"Because you didn't force him at all, I'm sure."

Matthew could have probably refused, but he was too soft-hearted and eager to please for his own good. Russia only needed to push the right buttons. Even worse, Alfred was sure Russia was fully aware of that.

But Russia only addressed Alfred a smile that made his blood boil.

"Your brother is much more capable of making his own decisions that you give him credit for. Had he wanted to refuse the drink, he would have."

Alfred held his breath at the insult, ready to burst— and Matthew stumbled against his arm and clawed at his sleeve.

"Woah…" he muttered, his eyes wide in wonder, "Everything's spinning, Al… Why is it spinning? Are we in a merry-go-round? I… I thought it would be fun but it's not so fun anymore, Al… Can we please get off?"

Alfred would have loved so much to stay and discuss everything with Russia. If fists got involved, even better. Sadly, he had to shift his priorities.

"This is what you get for drinking alcohol, you know."

He tried to sound stern, but his expression melted at the sight of his brother's confused face. With a sigh, he hefted him in his arms and ignored the squeal of surprise.

"Off to bed with you."

He strode across the room, his head held high and his featured tightened into a frown to ward off any questions and show he didn't have time to waste for anybody. He counted each step and tried to regulate his breathing and heartbeat. Yet, he couldn't help but succumb to the itch and turn back just before stepping out of the door.

Russia's eyes were still glued on him, a look of disinterest on his face. Alfred knew better.

"Now listen carefully, because I'm not going to say it twice: if you ever touch my brother, I'll make you beg for death. And I keep my promises."

Alfred walked away without waiting for an answer.

Only after he had put enough distance between him and that damned room he looked at his brother's face and acknowledged again his mumbling.

"Am I drunk? I really didn't mean to, I didn't think it was going to be so strong… Ivan told me but I thought it'd be fine, I had forgotten I had already had two beers because Laura and Abel offered me some and I couldn't say no, besides, it tasted nice so I wanted to drink it…"

In spite of himself, Alfred felt the knot in his chest relax as he looked at his brother's earnest eyes. No matter what, he couldn't stay mad at him. He would have to, however. For Matthew's own good.

"You should know better," he said in a chiding tone, in spite of knowing that there was little chance his words would be remembered the following morning, "But I bet that commie didn't tell you how strong exactly was that thing, did he? This was totally on purpose."

Dread knotted Alfred's stomach at the thought of what could have happened to his brother. He had been lucky to arrive before anything went too far.

"Oh, I don't think he did," Matthew rambled, "Ivan really isn't as bad as he looks like, you know… he just wants to make friends…"

Alfred sighed as his brother's words slurred into an unintelligible mumble. As trusting as ever, I see. Matthew was just like that. He would keep getting hurt. Fortunately, Alfred would always be there to watch his little brother's back.

(word count: 1265)

Notes:
Abel is Netherlands
Laura is Belgium