ehehe, fail!title :'D in case you don't know what it is, "coochie, coochie coo!" is often said to little kids in an attempt to piss them off get them to laugh but it really only pisses them off and they yank your hair harder than ever afterwards ;A; hope you enjoy, OP~

-x-x-x-

Ahhh, what a beautiful day! The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and the Bad Touch Trio currently lay in a hungover heap on Romano's bed.

Or maybe it was Belgium's. Or Seychelles', or Monaco's, or...you get the picture. The three really didn't know where the fuck they were, all they knew was that the bed was really comfy, and their heads were really killing. Besiiiides, "sharing is caring" and all that jazz, right?

Prussia was the first to wake up, and that was only because he heard the bedroom door slam open. The shrill shriek emitted by none other than England - oh, that was where they were! Prussia felt proud of himself for figuring that out...but...wait...how the fuck did they get in England again? - woke France, and France's elaborate stretching (a motion which here entailed hitting Spain in the nose) woke the third up.

So all three turned to blink sleepily at the furious figure standing in the doorway.

"You - why - what -" England sputtered, pointing one hand at the trio.

"You bastard!" shouted Spain all of a sudden, lifting a hand to point at England and falling off the bed. "You brought reinforcements! This is supposed to be one on one, not five on one! Apparitions, begone!" Cue exorcistic hand motions.

(Of course, by this point, France and Prussia were laughing too hard for England to hear the rest of Spain's words.)

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" England screeched, hurling the book he held at France's head. It hit the blonde in the jaw ("MON VISAGE!" because, you know, he's French and French people don't yell MY FACE in English, now do they?) and England stomped his feet in RAEGGG when none of the too-drunk-to-care trio complied to his wishes.

So there was only one thing left to do!

With a dramatic pirouette and a jump, England's green military uniform - because, you know, he's an insomniac who spends his time embroidering instead of sleeping - transformed into a crisp white toga, and a wand materialized in his hand.

The Bad Touch Trio stared in awe (well, not really. It was more of a YOU'RE HIGH AND WE'RE HUNGOVER expression of appreciation) as England twirled again and pointed the wand at the three rather grandly.

"If you want to act childishly, then children you shall be!" he said (grandly), sweeping his arm (grandly) in a wide arc and smirking (grandly) as sparkles flew out the end of the wand (grandly). The three on the bed passed out at the same exact time, from overexposure to grandness of proportions as epic as those the blonde was portraying.

Of course, this was England, and if you've ever been to England you'll know that nothing goes right there. (No, seriously, the forecast says NO RAIN, YIPPEE! and so you go out in a dress, and the guy's right, it doesn't rain. No, it hails instead, and Mother Nature cackles as you shake ice out of your panties.)

-x-x-x-

The three woke up several hours later, decidedly more sober and curious as to how they ended up on England's bed.

"Maybe he kidnapped us," suggested Spain.

"Hah! Kidnap the awesome me?" crowed Prussia. "We obviously went drinking together, and the loser had to host us for the night!"

"Then shouldn't we be at your place, mon ami?" interjected France. "It is clear that we had an orgy and England woke up first."

"Then why're our clothes on?"

"Foolish Spaniard! You know how prude Arthur is. And how much he likes touching my five meters! I bet he dressed us just so he could -"

"Fascinating, Gilbert. Mais, Antoine is right; darling Arthur has never dressed us before."

"Maybe we're just imagining to be dressed!"

"Maybe we actually got drunk and wound up here..."

"Oui, Ludwig has been most kind, but even he must be annoyed when we waltz into his home at all odd hours, drunk beyond measure -"

"Okay, first, the awesome me doesn't waltz."