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Summary
“Please, hermano? I also have four other drunk nations in the back of my car i need to take care of!”
"Damn it... What made you think dropping him here was a logical decision?"
Spain stood at the doorframe of Romano's apartment, with a very wasted Prussia’s arm on his shoulder. Spain had only taken two to three shots, unlike the other nation, who had a few bottles of beer, and possibly some suspicious vodka from Russia.
"You are his closest friend, no?"
"..."
"Bastardo."
“Thank you again Romano!” Spain had already thrown Prussia onto Romano and shut the door.
OR—
Prussia is absolutely wasted and Romano is too sleep deprived to fight back.