Ugh. Another day, another hangover. Nikolai had just awoken in his room and was not only seeing stars but the bright sun flashing in through his window. He reached over and pulled the string, forcing the curtains closed. Ah, perfect. He closed his bloodshot eyes and attempted to go back to sleep. A harsh, rapid knocking came at his door.

"Nikolai, vake up! Breakfast is on zhe table!"

"Ugh, go away! I have hangover..." Nikolai responded, pulling his gray blanket over his head.

That didn't stop Richtofen from picking his lock and entering his room. He was wearing a red short-sleeved, button-up shirt, a pair of jeans and two mismatched socks. One blue, one red. On his head was a navy blue bandana that held his hair back. In his gloved hands was a large white laundry basket. Yep, he was cleaning again.

"What do you want, Doctor? Leave Nikolai alone."

"The Doctor vants you to get up." the sadist said, picking a dirty shirt up off of the floor.

"Can't Nikolai just sleep today? Is tired." Belinski explained from under his blanket.

Richtofen stepped over to the bed and pulled the blanket off of his head. The Soviet looked up at him sadly.

"Up. Jetzt." the German spat, picking up 3 empty vodka bottles from the floor, then taking his leave, shutting the door behind him.

The Russian gave a pained sigh. This was going to be the worst day ever.

Dempsey and Takeo sat at the wooden table in the kitchen. They ate in silence, actually listening to Milz's loud jabber from the living room. He was on the black couch, laying on his blood-red blanket. He was talking in his high-pitched, demonic voice to no one in particular. Richtofen walked into the room and over to the couch, placing the white clothes hamper on the floor.

"Mein goodness, you are more talkative zhen zhe voices today." he told the infant, picking him up and heading into the kitchen.

The sadist dropped the child into Dempsey's lap.

"I'll be in my lab today. If he dies, someone vill be coming viz me down to zhe basement. Und zhey von't be coming back." Edward threatened, opening the door down to the basement/his lab. He squinted his eyes at the Samurai and the Marine, slowly backing out of the room. He slammed the door shut, disappearing for the rest of the day.

"Ah ba!" Milz screamed, drooling on Tank.

"I think that means bye." Takeo murmured, placing his chopsticks down on his empty plate.

Nikolai stumbled into the kitchen wearing a dark purple jacket and another pair of black sweatpants and joined his friends at the kitchen table. He picked up his fork and began to stuff his face with the bacon, eggs and hash browns that were on the plate.

"I'm surprised you were able to actually get dressed." Tank insulted as Milz stood up on his lap, holding his shoulders tightly. "Hey, you're standing!"

"Leave Nikolai alone. Is tired." the Russian whined, holding his head in one hand and eating with the other.

The zombie of the household stared at Belinski deeply with his shining yellow orbs, possibly wanting to play with him. He reached out for him with one rotting hand, holding onto Dempsey's tank top with the other.

"What are you looking at, filthy zombie?" Nikolai growled, glaring at him.

"Don't be such an ass, Nik. He's a good kid." the blue-eyed man said, raising an eyebrow.

"For once, I agree." Takeo commented, collecting the empty plates off of the table and taking them to the sink.

"I still don't trust him." Nikolai muttered, rolling his eyes.

Tank gave him an annoyed look.

"Okay," the Marine picked up the child and stood to his feet, then dropped him into the Soviet's lap.

"You watch him today."

"What?!"

"You heard me. Watch. Milz." Tank said, leaving the kitchen with Takeo behind him, drying off his hands from washing the plates.

Nikolai sat on the couch viewing a movie and sipping a bottle of vodka. His hangover was still going insane, but at least all was well. He had vodka, TV, Christmas cookies. Perfect.

"Gah."

The soviet glanced over at the brown-haired zombie infant that was laying on the couch next to him, eating his own fingers yet again. He narrowed his eyes at him. Why would Richtofen bring home such a dangerous little thing? Disgusting.

"Well, what are you looking at, huh?!" Belinski shouted, leaning over the babe. "You want piece of Nikolai?!"

Milz laughed, reaching up towards the man and babbling something again. Wrinkling his nose his disgust, the Russian returned his attention to the TV. Annoying child. Ugh. For some reason, Nikolai couldn't really enjoy the film knowing that the cannibal was laying right next to him. Curiosity struck him and he put his liquor down long enough to pick up little Milz who was drooling all over the place.

The infant wore a diaper and a tiny orange shirt. On his head was a little white hat and on his feet, orange socks. His skin was a dark-ish grey and he had small scars on his arms. Some of the coffee-colored hair on his head curled up on his cheeks, making him look even cuter and bringing out his lemon-colored eyes.

Belinski sniffed him slightly and he actually smelled decent for a rotting being. He wondered: how on Earth did the Doctor cover up that smell? Milz grabbed his nose with a saliva covered hand and chuckled.

"Hey!" Looking at the kid a second time, he thought that possibly, today wouldn't be so bad.

While on a commercial break, Milz sat on Nikolai's lap crying frantically. The blue-eyed Russian thought he'd stop, but he didn't. Dempsey stomped into the room, annoyed out of his mind. He held his head in anguish.

"Dammit, Nikolai! What'd you do?!"

"I did nothing! Tiny zombie just started crying. Not Nikolai's fault!"

"Well, make him shut up! I'm trying to take a nap!" And the Marine exited.

Rising up off of the couch, Nikolai raced into the kitchen, Milz cradled in his right arm. He searched around frantically, looking for something to feed the whining baby. He didn't have teeth, so what could he eat? Oatmeal? Too hot. Cereal? Too crunchy. Sounds painful. Vodka? Vodka! That was it!

"D'oh, of course! Is always good time for vodka!

Before the Russian got the chance to leave the kitchen, the basement door slammed open and a black and white baby bag flew up from the basement. The door closed and the drunk stalked over to the bag. On the side was a bloody hand print. It was fresh. Resting on top of the bag, there was a note.

Dear Nikolai,
Open the bag and look towards the bottom. There are bottles of food for my sweet Milz.
Do not. Do not. DO NOT.
Give him vodka.
Or there will be consequences.

You're welcome,
The Doctor

Following the simple instructions of the note, the bag was opened and Nikolai was slightly surprised by what he pulled out from the pouch. A bottle of crimson red blood. Did this baby really drink this stuff? The Russian placed the tip of the bottle into the crying baby's mouth and he began to drink, cutting out his cries.

"There. Better." Nikolai smiled, heading back into the living room. He placed the child's head on a pillow as Milz held the bottle up to feed himself.

An abrupt desire filled him. It was as if he couldn't restrain his hand. No, don't. Don't do it. The Soviet extended an arm and pet the newborn's brown head. Then, jerked his hand away. He didn't really just pet a zombie, did he? He was cute, but he was the enemy years ago. His people destroyed the world nearly. Yet, Nikolai felt something different about him. Milz was different from all the others. He knew it. Russian instinct.

Maybe this child wasn't as bad as he thought he was.

Richtofen walked upstairs from his lab and closed the door behind him. He tip-toed over to a cabinet and received himself a cup, then poured a glass of orange juice. He looked up at the clock on the wall while taking a sip. 12:24am. He really needed to get to bed. Finishing his juice, he placed the blank cup into the sink.

Striding into the living room that was only lit up by the Christmas tree in the corner that Takeo had produced, the Doctor progressed to his room but a heart-warming sight caught his eye.

On the ebony couch, there was Nikolai, snoring away. His right arm was hanging off of the couch and in that hand was a nearly empty bottle of vodka. On his stomach was baby Milz, sleeping silently and holding his empty baby bottle in his left hand. Nikolai had a hand on his back, making sure that he didn't roll off of him and onto the floor.

Richtofen grinned to himself, picking up Milz's red blanket off of the floor and draping it over the two. He stalked to his room for the night. At least he didn't give him the vodka.