When he had heard that the flood waters in Wales were to reach a record high, Scotland had put down his whiskey, and drove to his brother's place as quickly as possible. He'd arrived in the middle of yet another rainstorm. The panicked Welshman was attempting to direct his sheep up to the loft of the bar, the flood waters almost up to his waist, but quickly made his way over to the Scotsman as soon as he saw him.
"Scotty, thank got you're here." He said to his brother anxiously. "You have to help me get my sheep up in the loft right no or they'll die. They're not too good of swimmers."
Wales grabbed another one of his sheep and carried it to the barn. Scotland followed in pursuit, another sheep in his arms. They collected every one of Wales's sheep they could see. By the time the flood waters were only a few inches below the floor of the loft, all of Wales's sheep had been rounded up, or so they thought.
"Scotty, do you know where Fluffy is, I can't find her." Wales cried. "She's a little, black lamb." Scotland shrugged. "It's only one sheep, you have almost fifty. Do you need to save one, little sheep? You could die."
Wales looked horrified. "Don't tell the others, but Fluffy is my favorite. Her mother died, so I fed her with a bottle until she could eat solid foods. I even let her sleep at the foot of my bed. Please, we have to find her."
All of a sudden, as if on cue, they heard a small cry from across the barn. Fluffy stood on a pile of hay, the little sheep was terrified. Wales was exhausted, but he jumped into the water anyways, struggling to stay above the flood waters. He swam over to the tiny lamb, and carried her over to the loft. He placed her on the floor of the upper level before trying to pull himself up. He was too weak, and went under.
"Wales!" Scotland yelled. "I'm coming to get you!"
He dove under the water, and pulled his unconscious brother to safety. Luckily, Scotland had finished his CPR course the week before, so he was able to revive his brother. When the Welshman opened his eyes, Scotland pulled his brother into his arms.
"That was way too close, Wales." He ran his fingers through his brother's hair. "I never wanna lose you."
Wales pulled out of the Scotsman's arms. "I don't understand you Scotty, if it was Ireland or England, they'd be all over my ass about that stupid move. You never yell at me. When I was twelve, and shot your favorite horse by accident, you didn't even raise your voice, I was more upset than you were. And the time I almost burnt down the house, you weren't even mad. Why is that?"
Scotland stayed silent for a moment before finally speaking. "Wales, when I found you, you were lying with my sheep, almost dead. I could never get that image out of my head, and I never wanted to see it again. I was always afraid that if I yelled at you, you'd run away and die. I love you more than anything else in the world."
Wales smiled. "I love you too."