I'm alive! Holy shit. I'm sorry I haven't done too much. I've been busy with life AKA school and other things. I dedicate this to my baes Katie and Laura!

Warning: It kinda gets a bit steamy, but nothing too drastic.

"Je suis désolé, ma amie. We could only do so much to stop him. We didn't want him to get too drunk," Francis muttered, holding a semi-passed out Arthur by one of his arms. Their third party member was already passed out on the door step, a man named Gilbert.

"A little too late for that, but no harm. No foul. I'll get him into bed," she replied. The Spanish woman barely smiled as her drunk husband suddenly fell forward into her awaiting arms, forcing her to take a few steps back. "You can put Gil in the guest room." Francis nodded, picking up his own drunkard and taking him up to one of the guest rooms on the ground floor.

"Thank you for bringing him home before something happened," she sarcastically muttered as she closed the door with one of her socked feet. Arthur was heavier than her looked. Maybe she should have called Alfred for some help, but he would only just drain her of food and energy. With these thoughts bouncing around in her head, the brunette woman dragged the Briton to the living room, ignoring the perverted comments being uttered to her during the trek. She ignored him for the favour of trying not to bump him into the various objects that lined the hall to the grand living room.

"You need to control your drinking problem, tesoro," she huffed, pushing him back on the couch. "That's been the eighth time this month, Arthur!"

With a devilish smirk on his face, the blond male pulled his scolding wife down on his lap, ignoring her to wrap his arms around her upper chest. "My lass..." he slurred, nuzzling his face into her neck.

A heavy sigh escaped her pale lips as she attempted to force herself out of her husband's hold. "Arthur, you're drunk. You need to get to bed."

"Bed?" He perked up a little at that statement made by his Spanish wife. He thought to himself for a few fleeting seconds before grinning evilly, for his smirk from before had changed into one of drunk thought. If there was such thing. "If you wanted to bed, then why aren't we?" His smirk remained stationed on his lips as he scooped the brunette up into his arms, standing up shakily.

"Arturo... You're going to hurt yourself," she stated, slipping out of his weak grasp. Her socked feet hit the wooden floor as her hands reached for the sides of his face, gently stroking his flushed cheeks.

He pouted, letting the smirk fall off of his lips. "Bu' deary... Ye always let me–" He cut himself off by pressing his warm lips against hers' swiftly, his hands sliding down her sides to pull her waist closer to his.

In turn, she muffled out a noise of disapproval as her slim hands came up to rest on his chiseled chest, gently pushing him away from her. "Arthur. You're drunk. You know how you get when– Arthur!" By that time, he had already started to trail his lips up her jawline, ignoring her pleas for him to cease his actions. The Brit's warm, calloused hands slowly made their way around his wife's small waist to that Spanish butt, massaging and groping at it needily. The woman gasped deeply, trying not to moan. She wasn't going to let him have his way and win. It would have ended messily if she let him do that.

Carmen stifled another moan then pushed him away from her to the floor, standing above him in a dominant matter. Her husband was laying on his stomach whining as he found his wife's right foot pressing into the small of his back, keeping him flush to the floor. He groaned underneath her foot, not even attempting to anger his wife even more. "You're drunk, Arthur, and I don't appreciate you trying to bed me. Especially when I say no."

"Yer feisty when you're in denial, luv."

"No. I'm not." With that, she left the room and turned off the lights, leaving her British husband pouting in the dark living room.

"Dove?" he cried out, groping around in the darkness for his beloved wife.

"I'm not coming down for you. Not until you're sober," he heard his lover call from their bedroom.

His pout deepened as he sat up on his knees, folding his hands together on his lap. "Please can I come back to bed, love? I'll be a good boy! I-I promise!"

"No, Arthur. You're sleeping alone down there, and that's final."

"Aw..."