A/N: O.O Well, making up for the time I spent not doing anything by getting this next chapter out so fast! :D Yay! Sorry, but there's not a lot of yaoi in this one. Well, there's a tad, but this is mostly insanity. I wrote this while I was taking the bus to my therapy session, so yeah...READ!

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own any of the songs mentioned in this!

Russia looked around for a moment, vodka in hand, wondering where America had gotten to. It had been America's idea to go to a bar because, apparently, he wanted to see what Russian bars were like. Russia had agreed and allowed himself to be tugged along.

It had been a few days since Russia had taken America to Alexander Garden. Since then, Russia was about 90% sure that the Baltics knew everything. Mainly because America kept trying to get in his pants at least once an hour. Russia had to laugh at the eager little American.

But he hadn't seen America since he had told Russia that he was going to the bathroom, and that was fifteen minutes ago. Deciding that America had probably passed out somewhere, Russia got up and started searching the bar.

Unlike most of the other patrons in the bar, Russia wasn't drunk. Years of drinking vodka had left him with an almost infinite tolerance for alcohol; however, he wasn't so sure about America, who rarely drank.

After looking in the bathrooms, up on the roof, and asking the bartender, the Russian was unable to locate America. Maybe he'd wandered off somewhere, drunk, and couldn't get back? Probably not, even a drunk America wouldn't want to go anywhere without a companion, Russia reasoned.

You're so good to me baby, baby

Russia looked around, trying to find the source of that drunken, yet unmistakable voice. And lo and behold, there was America, completely hammered, up on a table with a few other drunken men, singing Avril Lavigne's 'Hot'. Russia wasn't sure whether to laugh or pull America down from there before he fell off and broke something. He settled for videotaping the performance with a smirk.

I wanna lock you up in my closet when no one's around

I wanna put your hand in my pocket because you're allowed

I wanna drive you into the corner and kiss you without a sound

I wanna stay this way forever I'll say it loud

America was now trying to dance, but was finding it difficult when the table was so crowded with drunk people. So one by one, the horribly off-tune choir jumped from the table and relocated to the stage, never stopping their singing. By that time, Russia was positively laughing, watching his boyfriend make an idiot of himself.

Now you're in, and you can't get out

This would make excellent blackmail, Russia thought, observing the performance through the video camera's screen.

You make me so hot

Make me wanna drop

It's so ridiculous

I can barely stop

I can hardly breathe

You make me wanna scream

You're so fabulous

You're so good to me baby, baby

You're so good to me, baby, baby

America caught Russia's eyes and smiled drunkenly, beckoning wildly. Russia didn't particularly want to, but America leaped off the stage – and fell, but he picked himself up well enough, with only minimal cursing at the floor to stop moving – and grabbed Russia, pulling him up onstage with him.

I can make you feel all better, just take it in

And I can show you all the places you've never been

And I can make you say everything that you've never said

And I will let you do anything again and again

The crowd of drunks cheered loudly at the new addition to their group, waving shot glasses and vodka bottles in the air as a show of appreciation. Russia didn't know the lyrics one bit, but didn't leave the stage, content with just continuing to tape America's performance. One of the drunk singers had somehow gotten hold of a microphone, and their voices were amplified, making it all the more clear how utterly wasted they were. And the fact that they wouldn't be joining a real choir anytime soon.

Now you're in, and you can't get out

America, seeing that Russia wasn't participating, went over to his boyfriend and tossed his arms around Russia's neck, laughing and slurring something that Russia didn't quite catch. Russia laughed at his partner's ridiculousness; America was entertaining when drunk, he found.

You make me so hot

Make me wanna drop

It's so ridiculous

I can barely stop

I can hardly breathe

You make me wanna scream

You're so fabulous

You're so good to me baby, baby

You're so good to me baby, baby

America surprised Russia by kissing him hard, twisting his hands in Russia's hair. Not about to be outdone, Russia kissed back, pulling America closer against him. America moaned upon feeling Russia's tongue in his mouth. Reluctantly, Russia pulled away when America's hand started fooling around with his pants.

"Aw, c'mon, Vanya," America slurred.

"Not when you're drunk," Russia promised. "Why don't you keep singing?"

Kiss me gently

Always I know

Hold me, love me

Don't ever go

Ooh, yeah, yeah

America threw himself at Russia again, and the taller man couldn't help but give in for a moment, letting himself kiss America in any manner but gently.

You make me so hot

Make me wanna drop

It's so ridiculous

I can barely stop

I can hardly breathe

You make me wanna scream

You're so fabulous

You're so good to me

"You can't stop that, can you?" Russia asked after America tried to get his pants off again.

"Mm…no," America decided, locking his lips with Russia's again. Russia pulled back for the third time, holding America just far enough away to keep him from kissing him again.

"Alfred, you're drunk," he told the American.

"Yes I am. I am shit-wasted," America proclaimed. "I have never been more drunkerer in my life than I am right now! It's actually pretty awesome, except for the spinning. Dammit, floor, stop fucking moving, I can't stand…"

You make me so hot

Make me wanna drop

It's so ridiculous

I can barely stop

I can hardly breathe

You make me wanna scream

You're so fabulous

You're so good to me baby, baby

You're so good to me baby, baby

Russia chuckled when America, after swearing the floor out, went right back to singing happily, not caring that he wasn't even sure when the song ended. As a result, the wasted choir sang the chorus at least three times extra before someone passed out and fell off the stage. The crowd apparently thought the man was stage-jumping, and they passed him back until there was nobody else there, so the unconscious man was just dropped on the floor.

You're so good…

Russia reached for his phone again; he had turned off the videotape after America dragged him onto the stage. Now, he had dragged America back off the stage and to the side. Dialing the home number, he had to stop America from joining the rest of his choir back up on the stage in their dirty rendition of nursery rhymes.

Jack and Jill went up the hill

Each with a buck and a quarter

Jill came down with two fifty

That fucking whore!

"Lithuania?" he asked when he heard the phone stop ringing.

"Russia-san?" a sleepy voice asked in confusion.

"Da. I'm sorry, but could you pick up America and I?" Russia asked. "I'm afraid we may have had a bit too much to drink."

Ordinarily, Russia would've just said, "fuck the alcohol, I'll drive myself," but America was so completely plastered that if Russia was driving, his companion most likely would've done something stupid and made Russia drive off the road or into a tree or whatever. In any case, someone had to restrain America on the drive home.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Lithuania agreed. "I'll be there in five minutes."

I make the pussy purr with

The stroke of my hand

They know they gettin' it from me

They know just where to go

When they need their lovin man

They know I do it for free

When Russia looked back for America, he discovered that he had run back to the stage, where the choir was singing "Cat Scratch Fever". Russia decided not to drag him back; let the American have his fun. He'd regret it with the hangover he'd have the next morning, anyway.

"Who knows the rest of the lyrics?" America shout-asked, looking around. The others had no idea, so they changed songs.

I'm gonna slide it in

Right to the top,

Slide it in,

I ain't never gonna stop

Slide it in,

Right to the top,

I'm gonna slide it in, slide it in,

Slide it, in baby...

Was is just him, or did all the songs seem like they were full of sexual innuendos? Russia wondered as he watched them all form a shitty little line, holding onto each other's shoulders for support. Soon after the song change to "Slide It In," they forgot the rest of the lyrics, and nobody else remembered. So they switched again to "Makin' Love".

Red light, green light, don't say "No"

I really want her, she says

"Stop, baby" go, go, go

I really want her by my side

The whole night through

We do all the things that we wanna do

Well, come on baby, don't leave me sad

'Cause you're good lookin', the best I've had

Well, at least America looked like he was enjoying himself. By the time Lithuania got there and found Russia in the sea of drunk people watching the also-drunk people singing, Russia was sitting on a table. He had gotten slightly bored, so he resorted to recording the performances again.

"Russia-san?" Lithuania asked as he joined Russia in sitting on the table. "Where's America?" Russia, in response, gestured up at the stage.

Hey, you remember when that girl was prom queen?

Take it off! Take it all off!

Whooo! Ow! Woo! Aw, yeah!

Woo! Woo! Ow! Yeah!

"What is he doing?" Lithuania asked, laughing when he saw America among the inebriated choir.

"I do believe they are now singing Van Halen's 'Dirty Movies'," Russia told him. "You should have been here earlier; they were making up explicit versions of children's nursery rhymes a few renditions ago."

"Should we get him down from there?" Lithuania asked.

"Yes, I'll go get him." Russia slipped off the table and made his way to the stage. "America-kun," Russia called, trying to catch America's eye.

"Hey Vanya!" America said loudly, breaking off from the group on the stage to walk unsteadily over to Russia. "Wassup?"

Pour some sugar on me

Ooh, in the name of love

Pour some sugar on me

C'mon fire me up

Pour your sugar on me

Oh, I can't get enough

I'm hot, sticky sweet

From my head to my feet yeah

"Lithuania is here to drive us home," Russia explained, speaking a little louder than usual to be heard over the magnified voices of the choir who were now singing 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'.

"Aw, but Vanya~" America complained, "I wanna stay here..."

"Alfred, it is one in the morning. The bar will be closing soon, anyway. And," he added, "I promise we can come back some other time."

"Really? Promise?" America asked. "Pinky cross heart swear?" Russia had no idea what America was attempting to say, but agreed to that too. "Mm...m'kay, I'll go," America finally said. Russia helped him off the stage, and then had America lean on him to get back to Lithuania, who grinned at the drunk American.

"Good afternoon, Alfred. Russia, I don't think I've ever seen him quite this drunk before, and I've seen him pretty wasted."

"Yeah!" America contributed. "I am so fucking wasted righnow...heh, 's funny..."

"Let's get him home," Lithuania suggested.

On the car ride home, America tried molesting Russia several times. Each time, Russia rejected him, telling him that he was drunk.

"C'mon Vanya," America slurred, "I'm so fucking drunk!"

"Yes Alfred, this is the point," Russia said. America looked confused. Up front, Lithuania was chuckling at the American's antics. Back when he had lived with America, they had gone out drinking every so often, and Lithuania was often the one sober enough to call a taxi. However, America had never tried to come on to anyone when he was drunk before.

At some point, America stopped talking and got rather quiet; Lithuania supposed it was because he was just coming off his extreme alcohol high. Every so often, America would moan in annoyance and pain, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I told you you'd regret the drinking later," Russia scolded, but he really couldn't be angry at America; the poor guy obviously had the worst hangover in his life.

"I...hate...everything," America muttered.

A/N: What is this I don't even...

Sorry for the crack, but I thought this fic needed some. I actually saw this (sort of) once. A table full of drunk guys started singing Avril Lavigne's "Hot", so I remembered that and this happened.

I like to think that America is a pervert when drunk. And, when not drunk, is just eager to get into Russia's pants. Apparently, 16 million Americans are sex addicts.

The next chapter...well, it has yaoi, let's say that :D