There is some cursing. Romano does most of it. You have been warned.

What was he even doing here?

Oh, that's right, Spain had nearly begged him to come.

Romano took another swig of his drink as he glanced around at the party goers. They were all seeming to have fun while he sat off to the side and glared at them all.

He shouldn't have even came; he didn't like America's parties after all. Not to mention Spain ran off with his friends as soon as he got here. Stupid 'bad touch trio' or whatever they called themselves.

At least there was alcohol.

But it wasn't like he was planning on getting drunk! Being buzzed was just fine. Once that would happen he would switch to something weaker or nonalcoholic. Getting drunk at one of these parties didn't seem like a good idea. Who knew what could happen?

He took another drink as he caught sight of Spain, who laughed as Prussia tipped to the side and fell over. It was obvious that he was hammered. Romano shook his head with a sigh. See? Being drunk at a party was never a good thing. He finished his drink and shook his head. He was defiantly feeling buzzed now. Better stop before he got drunk. He kept hanging out at the sidelines of the party, watching rather than participating. It seemed like everyone was at least a little buzzed. Just how much beer was brought to the party anyway?

Romano wandered over to the punch bowl for a drink. He shuddered as he passed by a smiling Russia. He was just as creepy smiling as he was angry...

Reaching the punch bowl, he ladled out some into a cup and took a drink.

Huh. It didn't really taste like any punch he knew. Though it did seem a bit familiar, he couldn't put his finger on it. He took another drink. It seemed to have a bit of a bite to it. Perhaps it was carbonated? That sounded like something America would do. Carbonate punch.

"Tch, idiota..." He took another drink. Whatever type of punch this was, it was really good. He didn't even notice as Russia chuckled and walked away from the table. Romano downed his cup and poured himself another. The party may suck, but at least the refreshments were good.

It sounded like someone turned up the music. As if it wasn't loud enough already.

He drank that cup of punch as well. He needed to find out what was in this punch. It was really good. He got another cup and finally wandered away from the bowl, stumbling a little.

Was the world moving faster all of a sudden? It sure felt like it...

"Hey! Frattello! Come and play a game with us!" Italy waved over at his brother, calling him over where there was a ring of people forming on the floor.

"Tch, why would I play a stupid-a game with you guys?" He rolled his eyes.

"But it's truth or dare!" America grinned stupidly.

"That's a child's game. Count me out."

"Sounds like little Romano's afraid of a little challenge! Ohonhonhon~"

Romano bristled.

"The hell I am!" He downed the rest of his drink quickly and tossed it to the side before stomping over and flopping down beside Spain. He crossed his arms and glared at France. He'd show them. He'd take whatever challenge thrown at him. Spain looked at the angry Italian and quirked an eyebrow and took a sniff.

"Roma, are you drunk?"

"Of course not tomato bastard! Only idiots get drunk at parties!" He shot a glance over to Prussia, who just fell into his younger brother as he laughed raucously. Germany sighed and pushed the albino off of him.

Spain shook his head.

"I'm just checking. Boss would hate for you to get a hangover tomorrow-"

"Ho detto che non sono ubriaco! I just had enough to get buzzed, then I had the punch!" He gave the Spaniard a scathing glare, which he seemed to be immune to, as usual.

"Just checking Roma."

Romano rolled his eyes and ignored him. The game was starting anyway.

The game quickly swung into full gear, the dares becoming more frequent and more ridiculous. It was also all blurring together for the usually grumpy Italian, who found himself laughing at the misfortune of others. Soon though, he heard his name called.

"Romano-san. Truth or dare?" The usually quiet Japanese man stared at him from across the circle.

"Dare." He challenged the man quietly with a glare. Japan thought for a moment.

"I have just the thing. Please excuse me for one moment." He got up and left the circle for a minute, coming back with a large brown paper bag.

"Please take this and put it on."

"What is it?" Someone shouted as the bag was passed to Romano. He looked inside.

"..." He wanted him to wear THIS?

"Look at his face!" Prussia shouted, amused. "You gonna give up Romano? Kesesesesese!"

Romano bristled and closed the bag.

"Hell no! I'll-a wear it! Even the boots!"

"Boots?" Spain looked at him curiously and tried to peer into the bag. Romano stood up with a wobble.

"I'm-a not gonna back out of a dare!" To prove he was serious, he pulled off his shirt right there and threw it to the ground, all ready to start changing in front of them.

"Change in the bathroom you bloody idiot!" England yelled as America cat-called and laughed.

"Fine!" He turned on his heel and stormed off into the bathroom. He quickly tore off all his clothes and pulled the outfit from the bag. After a bit of fumbling, he managed to put it on. He wobbled, a little unbalanced on the high heeled boots. The tights itched, but it was bearable. He looked in the mirror. He looked pretty good, if he did say so himself.

He was wearing a Sailor Moon costume.

He tugged the long gloves up a bit and couldn't resist twirling a bit to see the short skirt flare out in the mirror. Though that wasn't a good idea, as he nearly fell over and had to catch himself on a wall. A chuckle escaped his lips as an uncharacteristically happy smile splayed across his face. He showed them. This was easy! What a stupid dare! With a stumble, he headed for the door and walked back to the group.

'How in the world do females walk in these shoes?' He nearly tripped as he came up behind Spain. The group quickly caught sight of him and stared open mouth.

"What is he wearing?"

"He doesn't look half bad..."

"Mon ami, look!"

Spain turned to look over his shoulder and gaped, his eyes bugging out of his head.

"R-Romano..." He cupped a hand over his nose, almost afraid that it would start bleeding.

"Che cosa?" He asked, oblivious. A second later he ended up stumbling, and falling right into Spain's lap. Prussia shrieked with laughter as Spain's face flamed scarlet in a second.

"Haha! Japan, I think your dare is the best so far!" America laughed and elbowed his friend in the side, who only nodded quietly in agreement.

"U-uh.. R-Romano?" Spain stuttered and stared at the younger man who now lay in his lap.

"Ma che diavolo? The room moved!" He placed his hands in the Spaniard's lap and pushed himself up, making the man blush harder.

"Qué? No it d-didn't." He tried to keep his voice even as Romano righted himself and sat down next to Spain.

"Whatever." He relaxed with his legs splayed out in a way that almost gave everyone a look up his skirt. Spain flushed brightly and tried to get Romano to sit properly as he caught France trying to take advantage of that.

"A-are you sure you're not drunk amigo?"

"Of course I'm sure!" He pouted. "Why do you keep asking?"

"Fratello never wears skirts!" Italy chuckled.

"What-a does that have anything to do with-a me being drunk? It was a dare!"

"Well, you didn't exactly put up a fight."

Romano glared over at Germany.

"Shut up potato bastard!"

Someone else snickered, and Romano turned to yell at them as well. But Spain took his hand and stood up, pulling him to his feet as well.

"I think we should get you a glass of water, okay Romano?"

"Why do I need water?" He shouted as he was led away from the group. They headed into the kitchen, and Spain got a glass of water just as he said he would.

"Why did we leave? The game is still going." Romano put his hands on his hips and glared at the other man as he was passed the drink.

"You looked like you needed a break; besides, you've already beat your own dare." He watched as Romano finally accepted the drink and downed it.

"Yeah, I was winning." He tried to put the drink down on the counter and missed, dropping the glass to the ground. Spain barely caught it before it shattered.

"Perhaps you should go lay down for a moment..." He put the glass on the counter.

"Why would I do that? I'm not tired!" Romano crossed his arms and swayed on his feet.

"Well," Spain quickly reached out and steadied the other nation. "If you don't fall asleep after laying down, then you can get back up and do whatever you want. How does that sound?"

"Tch. Fine. I'll go lay down. But I'm not tired." He stumbled a bit as he allowed Spain to lead him to an empty guest bedroom. "And these are really hard to walk in!"

Spain chuckled and sat him down on the bed.

"I'm sure America won't mind if we use a bedroom. Try to get some rest okay?"

"I'm not tired!" He rolled his eyes, but laid down anyway, not bothering to kick off his boots.

"Boss will leave you to get some rest now." He smiled and left the room, knowing that Romano would most likely pass out.

"Whatever..." He yawned and snuggled into the bed. "I'll be up in a minute..."

The next morning...

Romano groaned and pulled the covers over his head. Such a pounding headache! What happened last night? He felt like shit... Everyone was too loud, the sunlight was too bright...

Wait... Everyone? ...Oh, that's right. He went to one of America's parties... He tried to go back to sleep.

Wait... He sat up quickly, which made the world spin sickeningly. That means this wasn't his bed! Or his room! With effort, the hung-over nation pulled himself out of bed and stumbled for the door. His head ached and it was hard to walk in a straight line, or at all for that matter.

He yanked the door open and stumbled into the hallway, and the toward the living room. When he got there, he overheard a conversation.

"Well, I figured out what happened last night," America was picking up random trash items on the floor, talking to France.

"And what was that mon ami?"

"Turns out Russia spiked the punch bowl. With vodka."

Romano froze.

"... He did WHAT?" At the Italian's shout, the blond nations turn to looks at him, starting to snicker.

"He spiked the punch dude. And you look very hungover."

"You did have the punch, oui? I remember you saying so." France let out another chuckle, and Romano glared.

"What the hell are you laughing at wine bastard?"

"Dude, do you remember anything from last night?"

"Not really..."

"Having any trouble walking mon ami?"

"...Yes...?" Romano was confused as to why that had anything to do with what they were talking about. The other two continued to laugh. Bristling, Romano looked down.

And saw high heeled boots and a skirt.

"What the fuck am I wearing?" He yelled, making his headache worse. America and France continued to laugh, louder this time.

Romano made a beeline for the bathroom, threw open the door, and looked in the mirror.

Needless to say, he was not pleased.

"Chigi! What is this shit!" He pulled at the tight shirt and glared at the bow adorning the front.

"I look like a girl!" He looked back up at the mirror to scowl at it, as if it was the mirror's fault he was in this predicament. "How the hell did I get put in this shit anyway?"

"Don't you remember Romano? You put it on for truth or dare last night."

Romano jumped and turned around, seeing Spain in the doorway.

"Spain, you jackass!" He shrieked and grabbed at the hem of his skirt and tugged it down, now painfully aware how short it really was. He face burned a bright shade of red.

"This is your fault, isn't it?" He glared at the older man.

"Aw! Romano, you're face is so red right now. Mi pequeño tomate." He smiled, and Romano blushed even brighter.

"Shut up!" He shook his head. How embarrassing! "J-just.. Do you know where my clothes are?" He needed out of this ridiculous outfit.

"Are they not here? This is were you changed last night." Romano scanned the room, hopeful. His clothes were nowhere in sight.

"They're not in here..."

"Then we shall go look for them."

"Che cosa? No way! Not while I look like this! I'm not leaving this bathroom!"

"Alright the, I'll go look myself." Spain smiled and left the room, leaving Romano behind to close the door.

Romano fumed silently as he was left with his thoughts. This was Spain's fault. After all, he was the reason he was here. Because he thought it'd be fun. And he should have guessed the punch bowl was spiked. How did he not realize it?

A couple times while he stood there and grumbled to himself, someone came up to the door wanting in. Romano would shout and curse at them until they left. There was more than one bathroom in America's ridiculously big house anyway. And there was no way he was leaving this bathroom.

After a while, Spain came back into the room.

"Lo siento. I could not find your clothes anywhere." He grinned sheepishly as he came into the room, shutting the door behind him.

"You're kidding me!" Romano bristled and turned to Spain, seeing him hold a bundle in his arms.

"No amigo, I am not. But-" He grinned again. "Boss has an idea." Spain took the bundle out of his arms and threw it around Romano's shoulders, the bed sheet completely hiding his outfit.


"See? Now no one can tell what you're wearing. Well, except for the boots." Spain chuckled.

"... I guess it works for now. Just get me out of here..." Romano shook his head, wanting nothing more to get out of these clothes and get into bed. Maybe take some painkillers.

"Sure thing Roma." He smiled and led him out of the bathroom. Romano flinched again at the sunlight coming in from the windows. It also seem that he wasn't the only one hungover.

They made it to Spain's car and climbed in, Spain starting the engine and driving away.

"... How come you're not hungover too?" Romano pulled the sheet over his head to block the sunlight from his eyes. He heard Spain chuckle.

"I only had one beer last night Roma. Then I switched to soda. I didn't touch the punch. Good thing though. Otherwise neither of us would be able to drive right now." He chuckled again and kept driving, every once in a while glancing over the unmoving lump that was Romano. It looked like he fell asleep...

'How cute.' He smiled and thought to himself as he drove back to his house and parked in the driveway. After climbing out, he walked over to Romano's side and open the door.

"Get up Roma," He poked the lump under the cover. "We're back at my place now."

"Why your place?" Came a murmur from the mass, which shifted away from the offending poke.

"Por qué? Because it's closer of course." He prodded the lump again.

"Fine... Just stop bothering me..."

"We're here already!" He chuckled. "Get out of the car." Romano sighed and moved the sheet from his face, staring daggers at the other. But he did get up out of the seat and out of the car. Spain led him up to the house and inside, letting him plop down on the couch. Romano stayed there and glared at the ground while Spain fetched him a glass of water from the kitchen and some painkillers.

"...Thanks jackass..." He took the medicine and downed the water. For a little while, it was quiet.

"So... You're going to keep the outfit, right?"