"W-What? It's not like that- It's a job, Wanker!" England shrieked. He wasn't gay! Well, not to his brothers he wasn't...
"Aye~? So it's a job~? Tut, tut England~ Ye' kno' that a one way ticket to 'ell!" The red-head chuckled back to his younger sibling. Earning a smack from his 'wee' brother.
"N-Not that kind of job! I-I'm just.. Just.. Nether mind! Lets just get you home, you reek!" Promptly pulling his hand away and waving it by his face, as if to prove his point.
Scotland simply muttered to himself before letting a cough out- Oh god, his head hurt...
"Ya' bent bugger, You can't tell me what ta' do!" He spat between coughs-
"Fine, be like that! I guess I can call France, He'd love to have a 'chat' with his best buddy, wouldn't he? Especially seeing you're drunk."
Now, Scotland was no fool. He knew England would call the frog. They were friends, yes. But he also knew France would be more then happy to get into a certain Scotsman's boxers, The more drunk; the more likely.
"EH?" hic. "Watch ye' mouth, Ya' little bitch!"
"Heed my warning, Scotland. Now, What was that you called me~?" Yes! He had power over his brother, somewhat! Giving his elder hell always did make him happy. Very, very happy.
"I called ye' a lil' bitch! You got a problem with it?" He shot back, the few people walking by turned to them. Can you blame them? How often do you see a drunk Scot and a 'Angel' fighting?
"... I'm calling Francis, You just stay here and be quiet, Okay?" With that, the Brit turn on his heel and started towards a red phone booth.