Comfortably Numb
By: Verin Mystal
Summary: America has gotten drunk. The problem? He gets really uncontrollable with his physical strength. Those with him decide to lay this problem on the only one who can physically control him: Russia. Who wasn't even in their little drunken party.
Note: Written for the Kinkmeme at LiveJournal.

(Epilogue)

One Year Later/Early Spring

"And then… he said- 'I may be drunk, but in the morning I will be sober…and you will still be ugly.'" England fell into a throaty laughter. "And oh god– America's face-"

"…Oui-oui, I have heard this story before." France sniffed and poured himself another glass of red wine. "You tell it every time you drink-"

"Belt up frog." England slapped his glass to the counter and waved at the bar tender for another Guinness. "I'm not done telling the story yet."

"You pussies. I got one even better. Back in 13'- when Bräurosl was put up-"

"I thought I told you never to speak of that again."

"Aww West-" Prussia groaned and leaned over. "Remember when you woke up naked with your hands tied to the bathtub faucet and-"

Germany gripped his beer and glared into the opposite wall.

"Never. Again."

"Wait-wait…you woke up in the bath tub?" America asked, his smile huge and eyes incredulous. "Naked?"

"From the waist down." Prussia snorted from behind his pint. "And his head was half-shaved-"

America fell into hysterical giggles. Russia smirked and poured another shot of vodka.

"It took three months for your hair to grow back, didn't it?" France asked breezily. "I remember. I offered to do your hair."

"This conversation is over."

Germany slapped a few bills on the counter and stood up.

"Aww come on west, don't be like that- you can't leave now~…" Prussia pleaded. "I need you to pay my tab."

Germany glared at him. "Is that the only reason why you invited me!"

Prussia pursed his lips and blinked innocently.

"…No."

Germany turned around and left the pub.

"Wait- West-!"

Prussia downed the rest of his beer and ran over him, nearly tripping over his own feet. Germany whirled on him and grabbed him by the front of the shirt.

"You still owe me for breaking the door handle and frame of my 1954 Mercedes-Benz 300s Roadster! And now you want me to pay off your tab!"

"But that was America not me-"

"You're the one who drove."

"But-"

"Ahhhh." Russia perked up suddenly and twisted around on his bar stool. "So you were the one solely responsible for dumping America on my front porch. I assumed it was a group effort."

"It was all Prussia's idea." France and England stated at exactly the same time.

"Hey! West please-"

"Yeah! I froze my ass off!" America shouted. "I didn't even have shoes on."

"That's not my fault!" Prussia jabbed a finger in the air at him. "You tried flushing them down the toilet."

"You left me to freeze to death on Russia's porch." America insisted, leaning into Russia's shoulder and breathing into his ear. "I was turning blue and shivering."

Russia glowered at Prussia, violet eyes seething.

"B-bullshit!" Prussia back pedaled and hid behind Germany. "You were on that porch for what- 5 minutes?"

"Thirty." America twirled his empty beer bottle, pleasantly adding fire to Russia's slowly growing temper. "And I was going into the first stage of hypothermia and-"

Prussia grabbed Germany's shoulders and dragged him from the building, the door slamming shut behind them.

"Awwww." America pouted and turned back to the counter, signaling for another beer. His fun ended now that Prussia left.

Russia also turned back, but grabbed a fork from the dinner they ate previously and started carving into the counter. France and England edged away nervously.

Without pause, America gently tugged the fork from his hand, leaned his head on Russia's shoulder, and poured more vodka into Russia's glass.

"Drink up~ I'll pay for this bottle."

"Hmm…" Russia rubbed circles into his right temple. "…Fine."

America smiled and popped the cap off his beer.

England and France gawked openly.

Music from outside started thudding into the windows noisily, the window frames rattling with each booming beat from overpowered sub-woofers outside. Distant shouting came from outside, following by obnoxious laughter.

"That better not be fucking Prussia." England slurred, sipping his Guinness. "He knows I hate that bloody techno shite."

France rubbed the rim of his wine glass. "Yes, you always have liked that ear-splitting garbage-"

"Don't you call the Sex Pistols garbage!" England shouted, and hiccupped suddenly. "You wouldn't know good music if it fucking hit you in the face."

France sniffed and sipped his wine.

America chugged his beer, wiggling in his seat happily while Russia sighed and rubbed at his temples. Noticing Russia's distress, America ending the chugging session with a gasp and slapped his beer to the counter. Hiccupping, he shook his head and breathed deeply before leaning over to peer at Russia with glazed eyes.

"Something wrong?"

Russia hummed and winced at a particularly loud booming from outside. Distant shouting followed.

"…Headache."

America stared at him for a long moment before turning to his beer, raising it to his lips and chugging the remains down his throat. Finishing with a gasp, he slammed the beer to the counter and stood up suddenly.

England, France and Russia peered at him in surprise.

America wiped the excess beer from his lips with the back of his hand, wiped said hand on his cream dress shirt, staggered across the bar and through the door, slamming it shut. The window of the door cracked.

"…Should we warn them?" France asked breezily.

England snorted, stood up and nearly fell on his ass, clutching the edge of the bar counter for support.

"No."

America staggered across the parking lot to a modern Mercedes-benz car. Germany stood outside the driver's window, shouting in German at his brother and pounding on the car door, who had the windows cracked and the stereo blasting techno with a woman singing in german.

"Hey-…hey!" America shouted over the music. "I need you to turn it off."

Germany turned to him and with an angry wave of his hand, pointed to Prussia, who smirked and waved at America. Shit-eating grin firmly in place.

America gently pushed Germany away, gripped the door with both hands, and promptly tore the door off its frame. Germany made a gasping, choking sound. Prussia stared, open mouthed. Tossing the door away as if it were a piece of tin foil, America leaned into the cab, balled his hand into a fist, and, slammed it into the stereo, his fist sinking into the dashboard up to his elbow. The music abruptly ended. Sweet, golden silence prevailed. America pulled away, tugged his wallet free and shoved his insurance card into Germany's chest.

Germany took it, his mouth parted, his face pale.

"You were giving my boyfriend a headache." America says with a deathly sweet smile at Prussia. Then he turns back to Germany, his face turning sincere. "I'll pay for a rental and the total damages."

He then turned and stumbled across the parking lot, reentering the bar.

Germany stared at the insurance card for a long moment before withdrawing a brick-sized cellphone and dialing the number on the card America gave him.

Prussia sat in the driver's seat, staring at the deep hole America punched through the dashboard.

"Remind me to never do anything to Russia again."

America slid back onto the bar stool, ignoring the suspicious stares France and England were sending him, and leaned into Russia's face.

"..Better?" America purred into Russia's ear, kissing the outer shell. "No more headache, right?"

Russia hummed and leaned into America's face, closing his eyelids in bliss from the golden silence.

France stared open mouthed at the two and leaned into whisper in England's ear.

"I never knew America was so possessive and… protective."

England snorted into his Guinness.

"You have no idea."

~~(END)~~

Notes: [From wikipedia]

I may be drunk, (Miss), but in the morning I will be sober…and you will still be ugly. – Quote from Winston Churchill. I omitted the Miss.

1913/Braurosl - In 1913, the Bräurosl was founded, which was the largest Oktoberfest beer tent of all time, with room for about 12,000 guests.

Title reference - Comfortably Numb is the name of an awesome(!) song by Pink Floyd. Every time I listen to it, I'm reminded of Russia and America.