England quickly shushed him, pulling America's arm over his shoulder. "Get back in the house," he murmured, feeling America's sick soak farther into his clothes. America attempted to walk with him, but mostly he just let his feet drag. England was confused as to why he was so sick until he had pulled America into the living room. A rather large pile of empty beer cans were lying on the floor. As he thought about it, America did smell bad—and not just because of the vomit.
"Idiot," he muttered, continuing to drag him until they arrived in America's room. "Can you stand?" England asked, still supporting America's weight. Weakly, he looked up, his face a bit dazed. He gave a brief nod as he straightened up. England made sure that he was standing straight and not threatening to tip over, then began searching through America's room. "Where do you keep clothes?"
America looked up, his face pale. "I c'n get clothes," he drawled, trying to move from where he was standing. As soon as he moved, he immediately began to tip. England rushed over and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him upright again. America's eyes were looked muddled, his face only paler. England huffed—and America said that he didn't hold alcohol well, stupid git.
"Just tell me where your clothes are," England said, now having to hold him upright to keep him from falling over. "The sooner you get washed up, the sooner I can get clean too."
America looked at him—or at least looked in his general direction—as it looked like he was thinking it over. It looked like his obvious hang over was making this task very difficult. "Juss pull sum stuff outta d'closet," America slurred, weakly pointing to wear he was referring too. "Dun't matter, I guess."
Carefully, England let America lean against the wall, hoping that it would be enough support to keep him from falling and hitting his head against something. He then quickly went to the closet and rummaged through it until he found a shirt, some pants and—to his extreme discomfort—underwear. Once all of the items of clothing were found, England turned around to see that America had slid down the wall and was now on the floor asleep. With a sigh, England knew he had to wake him up—even though he was kind of cute when he was sleeping.
"America," he said, lightly shaking him. "America, come now, you need to wash up."
America's eyes fluttered open, giving England a sad look. He then closed them again and murmured something. "What?" England asked, lightly shaking him to make sure he was still awake.
"Carry me?" America pleaded, opening his eyes just enough so England could see his blue irises. England felt himself blush. He couldn't carry him! America was rather heavy, and at the moment he was covered in his own sick. But America's eyes were doing something to him that he really couldn't explain. So, even knowing he was going to have a difficult time with it, he slid one arm around his back, the other beneath his legs.
"I might drop you," England warned as he began to slowly lift America. "And if I do, please know it's not on purpose." England held in his breath as he stood up straight with America in his arms. It was awkward holding someone who was taller than him, and even though America didn't look overweight, he definitely wasn't light. America seemed bewildered by England actually complying, but gave a weak smile as he wrapped his arms around England's neck. England stiffened, not sure if he liked the contact, but decided to not say anything. For some reason, he just couldn't say no to America anymore
By the time England had gotten America to his bathroom, England couldn't feel anything in his arms besides pain. He tried to set him down gently, but his arms gave out, making America spill out on the floor. He expected for America to burst with complaints, but he just gave a little "oof" as he just laid still. "Sorry," England said, stretching out his arms. He looked down at him, and was concerned with how little he was moving. "America," England said, "please don't tell me I'll have to bathe you too."
Curses! Goodbye?
Start from the beginning
