A/N: Welp, the Royal Wedding is in exactly a week's time, so I thought I'd celebrate by writing up a quick fic for the occasion. Scotland/France obviously, and mentioned England/Portugal. Rated mostly because, quite frankly, France is a pervert.
...
Scotland fidgeted with the tablecloth nervously, not looking up at the blonde nation that was sitting opposite him
"I mean, ye dinnae hae tae come if ye dinnae want tae." He said hastily, "It's gonnae be a pretty damn hectic day. I just thought that since we were, ye ken, gauin' steady and everythin'..." he trailed off and looked up as he heard France start to laugh. The other nation grinned at Scotland, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief,
"Oh, deui, Ecosse, you can be so silly sometimes." He chuckled, laying a hand on the Scot's, "I would be more than honoured to go to this wedding with you." He said, a bright smile on his face. Scotland immediately mirrored it and leaned over the table to place a gentle kiss on the Frenchman's nose,
"Thanks, gradhan, this really does mean a lot." He said. France flushed a little but waved the comment off,
"It is I that should be thanking you mon cher." He replied easily, "This wedding is going to be the biggest event of at least this decade." Scotland nodded as he rubbed his thumbs absentmindedly over France's hands,
"Well, the Queen said we could tak' partners wi' us, and England's a'ready asked Portugal along, so it only seemed fair that I ask you." France chuckled again,
"Well at least Portugal can keep Angleterre in line at the party afterwards." Scotland nodded,
"Aye, that an' a'." He agreed, "but seein' as it's a celebration I dinnae think Arthur'll cause ony trouble once he's had a few. Hell, he'll probably dae whit he did during the huge party we threw on V.E day and jus' go roond kissin' everyone afore passin' oot in a corner." France laughed at the memory; that had been a very good party. He smirked a little at Scotland,
"Maybe we can recreate our own celebration as well." He purred, sending a shiver up Scotland's spine as he walked his fingers up the Celtic nation's arm. The red haired nation smirked back,
"Oh aye?" he asked, leaning forward, "Well, if it'll make things ony easier, I will be wearin' a kilt this time." He said, his smirk widening as France sighed breathily at the mental image,
"That, mon couer, will make thing a lot easier." He replied. Scotland snuffed in amusement before kissing the end of France's nose again,
"Actually that reminds me, I'd better go an' get a new one." He sighed, "The ither one's getting a wee bit ratty." He looked at France thoughtfully, threading their hands together, "Whit dae ye think, Black Watch formal, or Royal Stewart fer the weddin'?" he asked. France thought about it for a moment,
"You do look ridiculously handsome in both, cher, but I think the Royal Stewart tartan would be better suited to the occasion." He replied, "The red contrasts so much better with the black." Scotland nodded,
"Royal Stewart it is then." He said, glancing to his watch, "It's getting' a bit late," he noted. He looked back up at France, who was gazing back at him with a slightly disappointed pout, "ye can stay o'er if ye want. Save ye haein' tae go a' the way back tae Paris." He chuckled. France's expression brightened immediately,
"I would love to, mon cher." He replied, "And perhaps we can get some practice in before the big day, oui?" he suggested, causing Scotland's ears to turn an interesting shade of maroon,
"Bloody pervert." He growled, only managing to half glare at the blonde nation, who merely laughed and kissed the Celtic nation as he walked past,
"Ah, but that's why you love me, non?" he asked, grabbing Scotland's hand and pulling the larger man up from his chair. Scotland snorted in amusement as he got up and grabbed his and France's jackets from the windowsill,
"I suppose." He sighed, "Tha gaol agam ort." He murmured as he wrapped his arms around France and gave him a proper kiss this time. France smiled into the kiss,
"Je t'aime aussi." He whispered when it finally broke off. The two nations entwined their hands as they left the bar, France huddling into Scotland as the bitter Edinburgh wind bit at them as soon as they stepped outside, both just glad to be in each other's company for the night.