ScotEng fluff
I hold no responsibility for the cavities in your heart caused by this sweet fluffiness
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DarkPheonix666
England roused weakly, his mind still foggy and dazed from sleep. The room was dark except for the bright lights of the lamps outside causing artificial light. He could hear the sound of the rain falling outside heavily. It was another storm again, seems it was a common occurrence in the summer due to the humidity.
He had always been sensitive to the rain ever since his birth as a nation. However it always tended to happen during a sad or emotional moment, be it one of love or heartbreak. But when it happened during the night he always found it more peaceful than annoying.
The sound of the pattering raindrops hitting the rooves and the ground, the gentle dripping of the water and the flowing of water. Though it could be tedious sometimes, he strangely found it relaxing. Allowing him to think and create a deeper and more serious mood compared to what brightness the sunshine brought.
Slowly he sat up, his blonde hair now a tousled mess from sleep. He scratched the back of his head a little and looked around the darkened room quietly. Everything looked so different in the dark. Everything that looked familiar in daylight was now distorted and strange compared to when it was light, haunting almost.
He then looked beside him to see Scotland fast asleep. His own wild red locks a mess and his bangs falling in front of his face like a crimson waterfall. His long lashes caressing his pale cheeks. His fearsome appearance he usually carried, now replaced by a slight angelic aura. Alluring England's attention towards him.
Compared to his own nation, Scotland didn't get as much rain as England. He did tend to get humidity, fog, cloudy days and a lot of wind but never as much rain as himself. He was often jealous of his husband in that sense, but he didn't envy him in terms of snow. He would take rain over snow any day.
England then turned onto his side quietly to gaze at his husband as he slept. His lower body covered by the sheet of the bed, since it was summer they tended to simply go nude. It just got uncomfortable otherwise, plus their combined body heat was so warm that they had no need for clothes when in bed anyway.
He then rested on his side, using his hand as a leverage to keep his head comfortable. He then continued to gaze upon the sleeping face of the Scot lying next to him in bed. Though England very much loved his partner, he never really took the time to appreciate him often enough. To admire the physical beauty of his significant other.
His stunning red hair, his silky tousled locks that were wild like a fire at night. Always gleaming in the sun and standing out in a crowd like a walking fireball. He would never lose him, his heart would always call out to England whenever they were apart. Their souls connected by fate, born to be together.
He had always loved Scotland's hair, he loved to play with it, pull it, stroke in and run his hands through it. Scotland would allow this depending on the situation they were in. His skin was so creamy and smooth, like a baby's ass. Though it was sensitive to heat and temperature, Scotland never had been one who tanned very well in direct sunlight.
His chiseled abs, his mischievous smile, his forest green eyes and that accent of his. Scotland really was a looker, and he was England's husband. He had certainly got himself a catch. Not even France could compare in terms of appearance compared to the likes of Scotland, even with his infamy as the nation of love.
Though he admitted his husband had some less than pleasing personality traits, that didn't stop him from loving him. Nobody as perfect, not even himself in that sense. It was because of this that they were so perfect for each other, because they made each other better despite their imperfections.
Scotland had a temper that would rival Spain's and make America turn tail. He tended to drink a lot and had a potty mouth that would make France complain endlessly. But he had a kind heart though he was bad at showing it. He doted on England and was more physical than vocal when it came to showing his affection.
He was a very passionate lover and his emotions ran deep (just like all redheads). There was nobody else like him and would never be replaced in England's heart, no matter how hard another person may try. He was glad he chose him of all people, even after all these years.
Suddenly Scotland's face scrunched a little showing displeasure as he slept. What could he be dreaming of to cause him to make such an annoyed face when out cold? Mind you, Scotland's past was even more colourful than his own. War and bloodshed going hand in hand with him, much like himself.
He then rolled over to face England instead of laying on his front like he was before. His body now facing him instead of being pressed into the mattress, giving England and even better view. His earrings gleaming in the darkness as the lights outside vaguely caught their shine, once again capturing England's attention.
To England's surprise he reached out a hand and wrapped his arm around the Englishman's waist. His grip strong and tight, not wanting to let go of his lover even in sleep. Even if England wanted to (which he did not) he would never be able to break free of Scotland's hold and he knew this.
His embrace was protective and loving, making sure that England was still close to him and unharmed. Even when he was sleeping, Scotland protected his beloved. Making sure he was still here and was where he could find him, knowing that when he woke England would still be there.
A fond smile came across England's face as he felt Scotland's strong arm wound around his waist like a snake. It was funny how Scotland tended to be clingier behind closed doors, away from intense gazes. You would never guess he could be, given how moody and antisocial he tended to act around everyone else.
He then moved closer to his husband and kissed his head affectionately. The latter winced a little upon the contact but did not complain, his body trying to figure out what was happening. Being kissed when asleep would often either cause someone to relax and smile or become confused by what was going on.
England then laid close to his lover still watching him dream. His green eyes filled with adoration and affection, his love for his partner burning bright within his heart. Simple moments like these reminding him of how precious Scotland actually was to him, though he was often bad at conveying his feelings.
He then reached out to caress Scotland's cheek gently as he slept "I'm glad I chose you" he whispered affectionately. He could look for centuries, miles, years, months. But he would never want another, only Scotland.