"Y'shee." He paused for a moment, frowning slightly. "Y'shee. Th'thin's, 'e jus' won' go 'way." Prussia nodded, or at least moved his head slightly, and then downed another shot.

"No matt' what he puts m' frough, what I put 'im t'rough, neith' us go 'way. I pre'tec' him, he make me food." Germany gulped the last of his beer. "I don' 'now why, not like I like pasta that mush, bu' it wha' he makesh."

"Like, I mish the old days, when, when, when if you didn't like shomeon', you damn well shmashed thei' face in. No, no, now, don' like shomeone, gotta be thei' beshtestesht friend, get goody-goody wif 'em, then wait for shomeone elsh to shmash thei' fash in 'fore you grab th' loo'." Prussia accompanied his drunken ramble with a finger, poking it randomly into the air to accentuate special points.

"I mish th' goodoldaysh too, Prushuh... Good ol' Prush, alwaysh there, jus' like, Felicicicianio. Felischi. Bof ya', good ol' frien's. We're alwaysh here, y'know. Bof of us. Together, Prush. No matter wha'. No matter what, what wall built t'day. Prush. Youan'me. Nev' min' who we ar'. No matter what. Alwaysh shtay frien's." Germany cut Prussia off before Prussia started rambling about how he was going to smash everyone's face in, 'cuz he was just that awesome, see how awesome he was? Both of the brothers were drunk, hugely drunk, Germany realized vaugely.
"C'mon. Le's go home 'n talk abit. 'Bout old times. Good ol' times. All th' times." He hauled his brother up, threw his money on the table, and staggered home with his brother's arm over his shoulder, both of them slurring about whatever crossed their minds, content with the world as it was.

_{Typing drunk speech affected anon's typing. And anon apologizes if her drunk speech is bad, she's never seen anyone drunk. xD;;; This was fun to write and I hope anon likes it. :D}