"FOREEEEEEVER YOUNG

I WANT TO BE FOOOOOOREVER YOOOOUNG

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO LIIIIIVE FOOOOOOREVER

FOREVER YOOOOOOOOUNG..."

"For god's sake, shut up! Elizaveta is sleeping, you idiot!"

The albino draped on the poor, blond German's shoulder seemed not to have heard. He laughed raucously and, through his drunken stupor, he kept on singing.

"SOME ARE LIKE WATER,

SOME ARE LIKE THE HEAT,

SOME ARE A MELODY,

SOME ARE THE BEEE..."

"What. The. Hell."

Ludwig started in surprise. Shit. Elizaveta had come downstairs. Elizaveta was going to see Gilbert drunk off his ass. Elizaveta never liked when Gilbert got drunk. Elizaveta's eyes had darkened. Ludwig mentally cursed.

"... uhm, I can... I can explain..."

But before he managed to say anything, Gilbert cut him off, slurring his words and sounding completely, hopelessly drunk. Which he was.

"... oh, hey West, look, there's a beetch in mah house!"

Ludwig mentally face-palmed. Elizaveta seemed to become encircled in a dangerous aura. Clearly her husband was so drunk that he had not even recognized her. Elizaveta cracked her knuckles. It looked like she needed to show her beloved husband who exactly was the bitch of the situation.

"... Gilbert. You have ten seconds to explain yourself. Starting from seven seconds ago."

Ludwig closed his eyes and readjusted his big brother on his shoulder. He didn't want to see the pitiful remains of Gilbert when Elizaveta was done with him.

Gilbert looked intensely at Elizaveta, trying to focus his glazed eyes. Then he laughed really loudly.

Ludwig cringed. Oh well, at least he was going to inherit his brother's laptop...

"Man, West, look, the beetch in mah house wants me to epx... exlpa... say sumthing! What do ah tell her?"

Ludwig looked intently at the floor. "... maybe you should stop calling her a bitch, Gilbert. And maybe you should try with 'please forgive me' or something like that."

Gilbert laughed again and pushed off his brother, trying to stand on his own and miserably failing. He took a few uncertain steps, but then he draped himself over Elizaveta, whose nose twisted in disgust. He reeked of alcohol.

"Man, dude, why won't dah floor hold still!"

Ludwig decided to abandon all hope. He looked pleadingly at Elizaveta.

Who looked ready to smack a bitch or two.

And then Gilbert started munching on her pajamas.

Elizaveta's voice was very clipped when she spoke again.

"Peel this bastard off of me and kick him in bed."

Ludwig hastily obeyed. As he was trying to get Gilbert to stop gnawing on Elizaveta's pajamas, Gilbert spoke again.

"Uh, man, this tastes revolting! Like mah wife's cooking!"

Ludwig knew instantly that if Gilbert had a tiny, tiny chance of surviving the night, he had just fucking blown it with his last remark.

Elizaveta's eyes widened, then narrowed. Her mouth was pressed in really thin line. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Gilbert with so much hatred, irritation and pure murderous intent that Ludwig was surprised to not see his brother catch fire right there in the hallway.

"... your wife's cooking is revolting, then?" she asked the drunk man, trying to keep her voice even.

Ludwig tried to save his only brother. "Uhm, I'm sure he doesn't mean it, he's drunk, I'm sure he doesn't..."

Elizaveta snarled. "Yes, I can tell he's drunk, thank you very much for your insightful comment, Ludwig."

Gilbert laughed again. "Yeah beetch, yah should try what dah wife's cooks! It's just relto...rovel... it sucks, man! Oh dude, ah need to lie down for a while..."

Elizaveta tried not to show how much that last, reiterated comment on her cooking had stung. She snarled again and swiftly stepped back, leaving Gilbert with nothing to support him. He fell to the floor face first in a shapeless heap and didn't speak anymore. He seemed to have passed out.

Ludwig discreetly crossed himself in gratitude. At least he couldn't make any more damage now that he was sprawled all over the hallway's floor and his mouth was finally out of order.

Elizaveta turned the albino over with her foot, the look in her eyes hurt and disgusted. Honestly, she had no problem if Gilbert wanted to have a drink once in a while. She could live with that. What she couldn't live with was that it was four in the morning and her husband was so wasted that he would embarass her like that, calling her a bitch and degrading her cooking in front of other people. Elizaveta really felt insulted and hurt. But she tried to keep her voice even as she spoke again.

"Ludwig, please. Give him a piggy-back ride to our bedroom."

Ludwig instantly kneeled beside the sirry mess that was his brother and heaved him on his back. When he was done adjusting him, he followed Elizaveta to the bedroom.

"... uhm, I'm really sorry, I did try to stop him, but he... uhm... you know how he gets when..."

Elizaveta didn't even turn around. "It's not your fault."

Ludwig cringed. Her voice was as cold as winter in Siberia. He wisely decided to shut up.

Then she opened the door and gestured for Ludwig to put his brother in bed. Ludwig did, dropping Gilbert none too gently on the mattress.

Gilbert's eyes immediately shot open.

"Dude, imma throw up..."

Ludwig cursed. Elizaveta too. "Quick, go to the bathroom, get a buc..."

She couldn't even finish saying "bucket". Gilbert had simply leaned over the edge of the bed and threw up even his soul on the floor.

Ludwig looked mortified, as if it was him that had puked all over the poor bedroom.

Elizaveta looked really close to crying.

"I changed my mind. Please, get a rag from the bathroom, and some detergent. And disinfectant, too."

Ludwig dashed for the bathroom.

Gilbert wasn't done yet. He threw up some more before throwing himself back on the bed and saying "Dude, ah feel fuckin' relieved now. Imma sleep some. Night, beetch."

Elizaveta had never wanted to backhand Gilbert into the middle of next year so much.

"Yes sure, go to sleep, after all it's not you who has to clean a fucking lake of vomit off the bloody floor!"

Gilbert simply slurred something incomprehensible.

Elizaveta let out a frustrated sound.

"I swear, if I had some divorce papers handy, I would fucking fill them in right now!"

Gilbert didn't seem affected. Elizaveta snorted. Right. He hadn't even realized that she was his wife, so why would he care if she spoke of divorce like that.

Sighing, she decided to change the bastard into his pajamas. His t-shirt and jeans were stained with vomit, and no way in hell would she allow her bed to be soiled in that.

She scoffed and got on the bed, straddled that pathetic excuse for a husband and reached for the buckle of his belt.

She couldn't even start undoing it that Gilbert's hand snaked to her wrist, stopping her.

Elizaveta looked at him, a bit confused. What now? If he felt like getting frisky, she was really, really going to have to kill him.

"Get off beetch, ah have a wonderful wife back home."

I wanted to go on a bit, but I feel that the last sentence is so self-explanatory that it doesn't need a long, mushy, corny, cheesy follow up. I mean, that line wraps it all up so nicely and makes you perfectly understand what Elizaveta's feelings are after hearing that. The cute is so overwhelming.