"Another bar?" Tino exclaimed as the Nordic men stumbled out of the disco. "I can't wait!"

"I'm surprised, Tino." Denmark said, smiling down at the smaller Finnish man. "I never really took you for a partier, but you're drinking like a true Dane!"

"Mathias, it's been an hour," Lukas said, checking his watch. "You said we'd be back to your apartment by now."

"Aww," Tino's face fell. "Not even one more bar?" His eyes drifted from Lukas to Berwald, who was sitting on a bench by the harbor, his face in his hands.

"I think Berwald is a little too drunk," Mathias smirked. "Typical.*"

The Swede raised head to glare at Mathias. He sighed and slowly stood up from the bench.

""M dr'nk," he slurred. "I kn'w my w'y b'ck to yer ap'rtm'nt, M'thias."

"There's no way you can walk back," the Dane stated. "I swear, you probably don't even know your left from your right."

"I'll take him back," Lukas suggested. "As long as you pay the cab fare."

"Deal," Mathias beamed. "I'll take Tino out for one more drink, then we'll be on our way home." He looked down the street and hailed a cab with a sharp whistle and a wave of his hand. The car pulled up, and Mathias helped Berwald stagger into the car. The driver grimaced as the Swede was dumped into the backseat.

"Is he gonna be sick?"

"Nah," Mathias replied, giving Berwald a quick pat on the back. "He does this all the time." He shut the back door and turned to Lukas, who held his hand out expectantly.

"Right, the fare." Mathias quickly reached into his wallet and pulled out a tattered 100kr bill. He leaned in close to Lukas as he placed the money in his hand.

"Wait up for me," he whispered. "I'll see you in my bed."

Lukas narrowed his eyes at the Dane, but there was no denying the redness that crept up in his cheeks. Without a word, he got into the passenger seat and slammed the door. The car took off, leaving behind only Mathias and Tino.

"And then there were two," Mathias smiled, clapping a hand on Tino's back. "I've got a great place to show you, come with me."

Tino trotted alongside Mathias, occasionally stumbling over the cobblestone sidewalk. The Dane led him into a small, dingy bar. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of stale beer. Tino fought the urge to cough as Mathias walked up to the bartender and began speaking in Danish. Tino didn't understand a thing, but still listened to the slur of sounds that fell from Mathias' mouth. The bartender laughed and brought a bottle of liquor from under the bar. He poured out four shot glasses, and handed them to Mathias.

Tino cringed as the Dane handed him two glasses of what looked like dirt water. He looked up at Mathias, waiting for an explanation.

"It's a licorice shot," he said with a smirk. "Ever had one?"

"No," Tino breathed, leaning in to smell the liquor. It gave off a pungent, menthol smell, and it made Tino's eyes water.

Mathias laughed as Tino coughed away from the shot. "Bottoms up," he said, and tilted the first shot into his mouth. He swallowed and shook his head quickly before downing the second.

When in Rome, Tino thought, as he raised the first glass to his lips.

"Say goodbye to your friends, Tino," Mathias urged, hanging onto a bar stool for support. "Time to head back."

"There you are!" Tino slurred, grabbing Mathias' arm and pulling him closer. He turned to the two people he was standing with, and pointed a finger to Mathias.

"This is my cousin," beamed Finland. "He took me out to see the nightlife. I got drunk."

The pair laughed, and one of them wiped away an invisible tear from under his eye before speaking. "Ah, your cousin is très funny, mon ami."

"That means funny," Tino piped up, looking up at Mathias with half-lidded eyes. "Francis is from France. He's been teaching me French. How neat!"

"But of course!" Francis replied. "If I was not to be married in a year, I'd take your cousin home with me tonight." He winked at Tino, which earned a smack to the arm by his brown-haired comrade.

"With that attitude, maybe you won't be getting married at all," the brunette said.

"Ah, mon dieu," Francis said, turning to the man. "This is the love of my life, Antonio."

"He's from Spain!" Tino said, turning to Mathias again. "I'm meeting so many new people tonight!"

"That's great," Mathias said, keeping a weary eye on the French man. "But it's time to go."

"Sorry, guys!" Tino said as Mathias began pulling him towards the door. His heels dragged against the floor and his arms waved frantically. "Skååål!"

"For fanden*," Mathias breathed, once they were out on the street. "How drunk are you?"

"This is –" Tino staggered into the Dane's arms. "—The most drunk I've ever been."

Mathias helped Tino stand straight before taking hold of his hand. Tino tried to pull it away, but Mathias held on.

"Ber—"

"Berwald won't care," Mathias said with a smile. "We're good friends. I'm not trying to seduce you, although you don't need to feel bad if you can't resists. I'm just making sure you get back safely."

Tino smiled, tightening his grip on the Dane's hand. They began their walk towards the main road, trying to find a cab. Tino was swaying and walking all over the sidewalk, occasionally stepping into the bike lane. Mathias had to pull him out of the way several times, trying to keep him from getting run over by a cyclist.

"I see…" Tino mumbled, pointing up ahead. "There's two of everything."

Mathias laughed, following Tino's gaze to the lights and sounds of Nyhavn.

"There isn't two of everything," the Dane explained lightly. "It's just the alcohol."

"I'm not drunk," Tino said indignantly. He tripped once more, nearly pulling Mathias to the ground with him. "I'm not drunk," he repeated; as if saying so would make him sober. Mathias hailed a cab, and helped Tino into the back seat.

"Déja vu," he joked, buckling up the Finn's seatbelt. "Too bad your French friend isn't here."

"Who?" Tino slurred. "I don't speak French."

"Wow," Mathias mouthed to himself as he closed the door. He hopped into the passenger seat and gave the directions to the driver. The car took off and started down the road. Tino's eyes widened as he stared out the windshield. The lights are moving so quickly! Where are we? What's going on?

Tino looked away from the window, and instead to Mathias, who was laughing and joking with the cab driver. Of course, they were speaking Danish. Tino tried his best to understand what they were talking about, but it was impossible.

Suddenly, the car stopped. Mathias paid the driver and got out of the vehicle.

"Don't leave me!" Tino shrieked, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Mathias!" He threw open the car door and fell onto the street. Mathias rushed over and helped him to his feet.

"Hey, calm down! I was coming to get you." Mathias waved away the cab and then dusted off Tino's clothes. "Are you well?"

"Where are we?" the Finnish man groaned, looking around the neighborhood.

The Dane stifled a laugh. "We're at my place."

Tino protested weakly, slurring in Finnish as Mathias lead him towards his apartment building. As he fished for the keys to the building door, Tino started to stagger away.

"Helvede*," Mathias muttered, shoving his keys into his pocket. "Where are you going?"

Tino rounded the corner, and Mathias could hear his horrible retching as he emptied the contents of his stomach on the sidewalk. Berwald is gonna kill me, Mathias thought, running a hand through his wild hair. He approached the Finnish man and stood a few feet away, watching to make sure he didn't fall over or pass out. After a few more gagging sounds, Tino turned and walked balk to Mathias, a sheepish grin on his face.

"I puked."

"I know, I saw."

"Typical": Beer is very expensive in Sweden, so most Swedes cross the bridge to Denmark on the weekends to get drunk. This was a play on the fact that most Swedes we see in Denmark are drunk.

"For fanden": Danish swear, basically means "hell".

"Helvede": Danish swear. Again, this one means "hell".