A/N: Okay so this is for the Writers Anonymous 10 Year Challenge. Hope y'all like it

As the storm clouds burst outside his kitchen window England sighs quietly to himself. Around this time, his front door should be opening, and he should be hearing the sound of wet muddy feet on his hard wood floor. He should be poking his head out of the kitchen and glaring at a tall blonde man with a wide smile plastered on his face. "Idiot, get out of those wet clothes," he would be yelling out as laughter filled the halls, but as the thunder rolls above him his house remains mostly quiet.

As he reaches for an apple, the sound of the front door creaking open makes his heart stop, "Alfred?" He calls out, only to be answered by the sweet smell of cigar smoke. "Oh…"

"The fuck do yah mean, oh?" Scotland answers as he walks in trailing a path of water. "Ain't yah glad ta see your big brother?" He chuckles warmly as he helps himself to the alcohol in England's cabinet not even bothering to dry off. "Who'd you expect?"

England doesn't answer as he starts to slowly peel his apple. "Want some?" He asks as his hands start to shake slightly. "I have a few more."

As the younger reaches the peeled apple out Scotland sips his glass of whiskey. "I'm alright but why don't we go sit in the parlor instead and talk?"

Talking is the last thing on England's mind, but as Scotland takes his shoulder and pushes him towards the nearby room, he doesn't put up a fight. As he sits in his large chair a roll of thunder shakes the whole house, but he barely notices.

After what feels like hours of silence, Scotland speaks up, "Alright what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Scotland answers quickly, "Bullshit," With a shake of his head, Scotland sighs. "Who broke your heart this time?"

This gets a bittersweet smile from the English man. "I didn't think I still had a heart to break anymore." He rests his head back as memories start to flood back to him. "He called me big once; he called me powerful, an ally…a friend." The last word catches in his throat. "When did that change?"

As the tears start to rain down, Scotland places his hand on his brother's trembling knee. "They're kids Arthur. They don't realize the power words and actions have."

"He knows…he's known for a long time now." He let a small hiccup escape as he wipes his eyes in vain. "At least when you say you hate me, you still come see me."

As he places his glass down Scotland nods. "Yah keep the good shit around." He gives his brother a warm smile. "That, and I made a promise ta Mama that I'd watch over your little pale ass." Both comments get him nowhere as England just nods as he continues to stare at a spot on the rug. "But how long as it been since you've seen him?"

Again the thunder roars out as it finally passes over the house. "Ten years."

"Ten years?"

"Today," he says quietly as his eyes glaze over, "It was raining that day, too…I told him to come in from the rain."

Slowly Scotland kneels in front of him as he takes England's hands. "Arthur,"

"He just looked at me as if I had just slapped him and told me no. He told me I wasn't his…I wasn't." The words refuse to come as he falls into his brother's arms. "I just wanted him to come out of the rain."

Countless times before, Scotland's known what to say, but this time, he just holds his brother tightly. "I know…"

"No you don't!" England yells as he tries to push him back. "You don't know what it's like to watch the man you love walk out. To watch him fight for a war that's not his to fight. To…to wonder if he misses you every bloody night as you lay awake in his sweatshirt…" He stops fighting for a moment as Scotland just stares. "Because it smells like him and it's the only thing I have left."

Quietly Scotland wipes away the tears falling from England's cheek. "You haven't washed it in ten years, have yah?" When England shakes his head Scotland sighs.

"Say it. I'm pathetic. I know you want to."

"If I wanted ta call you pathetic, I wouldn't be on the damn floor with you crying on my shoulder."

England whispers softly as he lets Scotland embrace him again, "You're already wet…"

"Not the fucking point," Scotland answers as the sun starts to creep into the window and the birds start to sing. As he rocks his brother, he notices a figure walking towards the front door. "Hey…why don't I go see if there ain't a rainbow for me to stand under?" He has a good idea who it is as the figure makes it to the front steps.

"What are you talking about? Are you making fun of Ireland again?" England says as he holds tighter to his brother. "Or are you that drunk already?"

Scotland helps him to his feet. "Perhaps I am," he says as the front door opens again.

Strong footsteps enter the hallway as England's head spins around at the familiar sound. "Hello?" He calls out in near disbelief.

There, standing in his doorway is a blonde hair man caked in mud, soaked to the bone with a smile that he hasn't seen in a decade. "Hey…" He says, "Um I thought…I'd come in out of the rain. If you don't mind, that is."

England inhales slowly. "Do I mind? Really, you are an idiot." As America takes a small step back, England races into his arms, "Ten years…"

"I know…"

"Ten fucking years," England says again as he buries his face in his chest.

As America nods, he wraps his arms around the shorter man. "You always said I didn't have any sense…" he says weakly as his wet hair drips down on the English man.

"You don't," England answers, "You never have. But..."

"But, what?"

England looks up into America's eyes. "But maybe it's why I still love you."

As the birds continue to sing, Scotland just chuckles to himself. "At least the storm's finally over."