Under The Old Roots
A/N: Yes, I'm back, so soon! And with more England and Scotland for you!
The reason behind this is simply that big brother, my Scotland, has been talking to me more often recently, and RPed a bit with me. So, England and Scotland RPs = Scotland and England stories. And this was based on one such RP, as requested by big brother.
Enjoy~
~~::.::~~
It was raining, heavily. A small blonde boy was sheltering under some roots, where a tree had tipped over, providing a large hole in the ground that easily fit the boy in. He stared up through the roots at the dark clouds overhead. This rain would last a while. The blonde boy gave a tiny sigh and nestled down into the roots, preparing to spend his night there. Just as he had made himself comfortable in the relative warm and dry amongst the leaf-litter in the hollow, he caught sight of a flash of colour outside, looked up, and let out a tiny, surprised squeak.
Outside was another boy, a good few years older than the blonde. His hair was what had caught the blonde's eye, being a dark yet strangely vibrant shade of red, and currently ruffled by the wind and sticking to his face from the rain. He was wrapped up in a dark blue cloak, which was soaked through from the downpour, and he was peering down through the roots at the smaller boy.
For a moment they stayed there, staring at each other. Wide, curious emerald met calm, collected forest. Then the red-headed boy straightened up and held out his hand, keeping his steady gaze, and waited, not saying a word. The little blonde looked at the hand being offered, back up to the other's eyes, and then carefully pushed himself forwards, up onto his knees, and reached out to place his tiny hand in the larger hand of the redhead. A gentle pull got the blonde to his feet, and another tug pulled him out from the shelter of the roots.
The blonde grimaced slightly as he was assaulted with the cold, harsh rain, and pulled his own, green, cloak tighter around him. The older boy noticed and swept his cloak around the smaller boy as well.
For a moment the youngest looked up at the oldest, searching his face and his eyes. Then, he smiled, hesitantly at first, but it slowly became more assured. The redhead let a tiny smile tug at his lips as well, before tightening his grip on the blonde's hand and leading him away.
~~::.::~~
"You are not coming in, git."
"England, ye cannae keep daeing this. Open th' door!"
"No! You can sleep outside for all I care!"
"It's gunnae rain!"
"I don't give a shit!"
England sighed, glaring at the door as if it could go through and hit Scotland instead.
The brothers had fought, once again, the same old argument. Spiralling from Scottish independence to Scotland being a bad brother to no-one liking England, until England had stormed off to brood alone in his – their – house, and Scotland had gone and drunk, before coming back to a locked door.
As per the usual.
"I live here tae – what dae you expect me tae dae?" Scotland persisted.
"Sleep under a rock or a tree or something. Maybe under that bar you're so fond of." England snapped back sharply.
"A tree, England?" Scotland sighed, leaning against the door. "Aye, maybe I could. I've got one in mind if it comes tae it."
"Well then, you've got your place for the night, haven't you?" England huffed, turning his back on the door and leaning back against it.
"Aye, I dinnae like tae, but I go there a lot when ye dae this." The older nation's tone was soft and hinting. He knew that England would know where he was talking about.
"...The old tree roots?" The blonde asked, sure enough.
"Aye."
England sighed, letting himself slide down the door until his knees were to his chest. He thought back to the old place, letting himself remember it.
"It's peaceful there, ye ken?" Scotland murmured, similarly letting himself drop down to his knees and rest his forehead against the door.
"Yeah, I know... I remember."
"First time I found you was at that place." The Scot continued. "I didnae have tae sae a word... ye would ken what I meant, just at a gesture."
England didn't respond, instead staring away at the far wall of the front corridor, thinking back... it had been so long...
"... I never was guid wi' words."
"I know you're not, you git." England muttered. This was their difficulty – words. Communication. Neither quite knew what to say to the other, so understanding between them was rare.
"We didnae speak for a long time, ye always were afraid that people would hate you. But ye ken all that..." Scotland was in full flow, reminiscing aloud, pressing his hands to the door and hoping England was still on the other side, still listening. "Ye mind what I said? Cannae say it these days... No' really."
England's breath caught slightly.
"...I like you."
England remembered that day – to think, they'd been having the same argument all the way back then as they did now – when Scotland actually told him, in words, that he didn't despise him with all his heart and soul. He hadn't heard any such confirmation in centuries. Yet, he still remembered that one time, that first time.
"...Aye... it was a long time ago... I'm... ah ye ken..."
Scotland waited for a moment, hoping for some confirmation or response from England, but got none. The blonde nation stayed silent, hugging his knees to his chest, his head in his arms.
"Aye... sorry." The redhead sighed, pushing himself up to his feet. He paused for a moment more, but still, no response. "Ye ken where tae find me..."
Scotland turned and walked away, leaving England to his thoughts. The blonde sat there for nearly a quarter of an hour, deep in thought, before his mind finally caught up to the last words Scotland had said.
"Aye... sorry."
Sorry? When had Scotland ever said sorry to England? Sometimes he would express it with small actions, but he never said it outright. England sat there for a moment in shock before scrambling up to open the door.
"Scotland...?"
All England saw was an empty doorstep and rain pattering down, growing steadily heavier.
"Ye ken where tae find me..."
England strode out of the door, pulling it shut after him and setting off quickly into the rain in search of his older brother.
~~::.::~~
When he finally reaches the site of the old tree roots, England is soaked through to the bone and shivering from the cold. He peers down into the hollow beneath the roots and, sure enough, Scotland is sheltering there, knees to his chest due to the limited space. The blonde waits for the older nation to notice him, not saying a word.
When Scotland's eye finally catches sight of him, the redhead turns and gives him a small smile. A hand is extended in offering, and forest looks up to emerald. With a quiet chuckle, the blonde takes the redhead's hand and allows himself to be pulled down, into the shelter of the roots. The space seems a lot smaller than he remembered it, but then, he knows he's grown dramatically since the first time he sheltered here. Scotland watches him for a moment, before turning to stare out at the rain.
"It was raining then tae..." Scotland murmured, breaking the silence.
"Yeah..." England also turned to stare out at the rain. "You were soaked through."
"Aye." Scotland chuckled. "Th' cloak wasn't very waterproof."
"No, they weren't really, were they?" England agreed, then looked down at his shirt, which was clinging uncomfortably to his skin. "Then again, I can't say this did a much better job."
Scotland laughed and glanced over, smirking at England's sodden hair and clothes.
"We'd better wait until the rain wears off... dinnae want you getting sick."
"Looks like it might last a while though." England said, looking out at the thick grey clouds that went on over the horizon. The rain showed no signs of letting up any time soon.
"Aye, but there are worse places." Scotland replied, before looking back at England. It was getting late, well into the evening, and England had trekked a long way to get there – he looked tired. "Why don't ye get some sleep? I'll stay up."
The phrase held some strange comfort to the English nation. It reminded him of time spent curled up next to his brother, secure in the knowledge he was being looked out for, that he was being protected – the feeling of safety still accompanied those words. He sighed quietly and lent back against the wall of the hollow, letting his eyes close.
"Wake me when the rain stops." He mumbled. Scotland chuckled softly.
"Ye ken I will."
"I know..."
England's breathing slowed and he relaxed, falling asleep against Scotland's shoulder. Scotland smiled just slightly at the sight of his sleeping little brother, and placed a protective hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, and settled down to watch the rain.
It was still raining heavily.
~~::.::~~
A/N: The beautiful Scots is thanks to big brother being Scottish. In case you're not very familiar with some of the harder bits:
Ken – know
Mind – remember
The rest is mainly just accented; you should be able to work it out.
Enjoy your brotherly fluff, and again, reviews much appreciated!