This is dedicated to TheChildOfSilence, who requested a ScotEng story for proving me wrong. This story contains a bit of bad language, and of course, light hints of yaoi. There's a weeeeee bit of UsUk in this. I don't care for the pairing, but it should appease some. If not, oh well.

Enjoy?

Arthur let out a choked sob, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. The rain poured down, showering the British Nation in a grey atmosphere. Painful tears bit at his eyes, stinging their ways down his cheeks, not caring at all.

Why? After all he had done for Alfred, why had he done this to him? A pained cry escaped him, and he doubled over, hands hitting the rain softened earth, digging into the wet soil. Everything they had been through, it had been for nothing, hadn't it? Arthur had tried his best, to protect and shower the younger nation in unconditional love.

Around him, his soldiers who could still walk, were helping those injured to return back to their camp. It was over. Alfred had won. He was free. But what about Arthur?

It hurt so badly, being abandoned like this, betrayed by the very person who he had taken under his wing, and raised at all costs. He was alone. No one else had experienced this pain. No one could comfort him.

Footsteps, heavy boots sloshing through puddles, approaching him. The Englishman stiffened, feeling the strong magical presence coming closer. Not him. He couldn't possibly face him like this.

"Hurts, donnae it?" a rough voice asked, missing its normal hidden hatred. Arthur kept his face down, trying his hardest to stifle the tears running down his face. No, he couldn't let his big brother see him like this. It was bad enough he had cried in front of Alfred. He couldn't live with that shame.

"Leave me be," he managed to say, having to hold back a bad urge to sob without stopping. There was no way he could do that. The damn bastard would only use it against him sooner or later. He knew Allistor, he knew that the great Scotland the Brave would use anything in his arsenal to gain the upper hand.

Arthur jerked away when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He found his face grabbed roughly by a gloved hand, and he was forced to look up at his older brother. Dark green eyes glared at him, before slowly softening, and letting the younger go. Allistor knelt down in the dirt, and pulled the shocked blonde into a comforting hug.

"Ah ken it hurts, Artie," Allistor said, running a hand through his brother's untameable blonde hair. Arthur, to his surprise, and Allistor's as well, flung his arms around his brother, and began to cry heavily into the Scot's shoulder.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, holding onto his hated brother, crying without stop into the warm, familiar shoulder. He didn't care what others might think as he sobbed like a baby, gripping onto Allistor's dirtied blue coat like a lifeline. All he knew was that there was no way he would survive if Allistor pushed him away now. Why was the brute playing with him like this?

"Wheesh'd, Arthur," Allistor finally said, gently forcing the younger to look up at him once again. Allistor was smiling sadly, his deep eyes swirling with an unseen emotion as he looked over Arthur. "Yer a tough lad. Ah ken it hurts roight nao, but ye'll be alroight," he said softly, running a thumb across Arthur's cheek, swiping away a tear. Not that it mattered. Both of them were soaking wet, the rain having made sure of that.

Arthur let out another choked sob, shutting his eyes. "Shut up. Y-You don't know. How can you? You've never loved anyone! You only caused harm to everyone!" Arthur snapped, opening his eyes, and pushing his brother away with all his might. Allistor feel over, having little balance while kneeling, and stared at his brother with wide eyes.

"Ah donnae ken?" Those eyes narrowed into thin slits, and Arthur felt fear go through him. He had lost Alfred already, and know he was going to get a beating from his older brother. He should have known. Allistor only ever acted nice. He never meant any of it. Still, it took Arthur by surprise when he received a power slap to his face.

"Ah donnae ken whit it feels loike!" Allistor nearly screamed, getting to his feet. Arthur stared up at him in shock from his spot on the ground, one hand coming up to cover his reddened cheek. "Of course Ah donnae ken whit it feels loike! It's not loike ye never stabbed me back! Or, all those damn toimes ye invaded me, and took away me culture! It's not loike me wee braw who Ah raised at the cost of me own health decided tae try and kill me!"

Arthur winced, Allistor's words hitting him harder then any physical attack. The words seeped in, and he glared down at the ground.

"It's not the same! I-It's different... Some how..." Arthur said, his words trailing off. When he looked up, he nearly screamed when he saw Allistor's face, mere inches away from him.

"Different? How is that sae?" Allistor growled, grabbing Arthur by the front of his collar. "Come on, tell me? It's different because ye did it repeatedly. Sae tell me again how Ah donnae ken how it feels. Come on," the Scotsman said, egging his younger brother on.

Arthur tried to glare at him, but found himself cowed, and dropped his gaze to the ground, unable to meet Allistor's gaze any longer. It was strange, instead of another physical attack, Allistor hugged him again, pulling him up into his arms, and lifting him off of the ground. Years, centuries, it had been so long since the personification of Scotland had ever done that to him. It brought back happier times, before Rome had invaded, when Britannia had still been alive, and Allistor had showered him endlessly with affection...

He wrapped his legs around the older's waist, his arms circling around Allistor's neck so he didn't fall from his brother's grip. He felt Allistor start to move, and realized that his brother was taking him back to the base. He sobbed, and buried his face in the crook of Allistor's neck. He was sore, and tired. So incredibly tired...

Arthur awoke with a start when he felt his head come in contact with a soft surface. His emerald eyes looked around with worry, before landing on a tall figure. Allistor? No, it faded, and revealed a grinning American.

"Yo dude? You feeling alright now? You scared me when you fainted," Alfred said, ruffling Arthur's hair, laughing as quietly as he could. Arthur groaned, and shut his eyes again. It was the obnoxious American's birth day, yet again, and he must have drank too much at the party still going on downstairs. He mustn't have been asleep for very long, he could still hear the strong beat of the bass going on downstairs.

"Leave me alone Alfred. Your voice hurts," the Englishman groaned, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. He heard the American give off a loud round of laughter, and ruffle the grumpy Brit's hair again.

"Awww... But I wanted a present from you~"

"Get the fuck out you git! You're almost as bad as that fucking frog!" Arthur snapped, slapping at Alfred's hand, which had given him a light tap on his rear. He was ready to commit murder by the time the American had left the room, leaving him alone to suffocate himself in the pillow again.

He heard the door open, and he jolted up. "Didn't I tell you to get out you git!" The figure standing in the door blinked, deep green eyes confused, and a bit of ash falling humorously from the end of his cigarette.

"Wot?" Allistor said, raising an eyebrow. Arthur sighed, relaxing when he realized it was just his brother. He snorted at the thought. Relax with Allistor around? That was a funny thought. It must have shown, because Allistor was looking less than amused.

"Never mind," Arthur said, resting his face into the pillow again. He heard footsteps, and the door shutting, before a weight pressed down on the edge of the bed. Arthur sighed heavily, rolling onto his back, and looking at his brother, knowing that ignoring him wouldn't do anything for the situation. He felt those familiar eyes looking over him, taking in his current condition.

"Ye never could hold yer liquor," Allistor said, ruffling Arthur's hair, and blowing smoke out of his mouth. Arthur blinked, letting his eyes close at the calming feeling. Unlike Alfred, Allistor's hand never accidentally pulled Arthur's hair, or put to much pressure. Whenever the eldest did the signifigant gesture, it was always gentle, and relaxing.

"Shut up... I'm allowed to get drunk once in a while, especially today," Arthur mumbled, peeking out at his amused brother. Allistor held his cigarette out in one hand, and pressed the end to the underside of his boot to put it out, and placed what was left on the bedside table.

"Is that sae? Ye okay Artie?" The concern in Allistor's voice was enough to break the other's fragile mental state, and he burst into tears, which quickly developed into sobs. He held his arms out to his brother, who leaned in and hugged him tightly, cooing words of comfort in Gaelic.

"D-Does it ever stop h-hurtin'..." Arthur managed to sob out, clinging tightly onto his brother. It was a lot like that day so many years ago...

"Nae. Nae really," Allistor admitted, sitting up, and pulling Arthur into his lap. The younger didn't protest, and clung tighter to his brother, fat tears rolling lazily down his face. He was sure he looked extremely ugly at the moment, hair sticking up everywhich way, eyes red and swollen, and snot beginning to drip from his nose.

Allistor pulled Arthur's face out of his neck, and began to wipe the tears and snot away with the bedsheet. It was no little known fact the redhaired nation hated America with a burning passion for what he had done to his little brother. Arthur looked at him, hardly able to keep his eyes open, his fingers playing with the hair at the base of Allistor's skull.

"Allistor... I'm so sorry..." Arthur said, pressing his face back into Allistor's shoulder the moment he could. He heard the soft, deep chuckles rumbling in his brother's chest, and felt long fingers rubbing his back.

"Ah ken Artie... Ah's sorree tae... Nao, try and git some rest. Ah wonnae let anything hurt ye nae more..."

{Omake}

America laughed, slamming his pint down on the table, a wicked grin on his face. His eyes widened porportionally when he saw the staggering amount of empty glasses on Scotland's side of the table, compared to his measly five. He really did not want to count how badly the Scotsman had outdrank him.

Scotland leaned back in his chair, a red eyebrow raised as he studied America's face with calculating, cold, dark green eyes. He allowed a smirk to appear on his lips, and he tilted his head to the side, an evil glint appearing in his face.

"Ye ken lad, ye either die a hero, or live long enough tae become the villain." America's eyes narrowed, and his muscles tightened. Scotland chuckled. "Yer tae auld tae die a hero any longer, ye ken?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" America snapped, bright blue eyes narrowing at the Scotsman. Scotland rolled his eyes, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tables, and looking at the younger nation over the top of his hands.

"It means, yer nae hero. Ye've done more bad then good. Ye've ruined this earth laddie. Ye nearly killed me wee braw." There it was. A murderous glint appearing in the Scotsman's eyes. "Ah may git intae fights wit' him, and beat him up, but Ah've never doon somethin' tae ruin him sae completely." A cruel, dark smirk. "Sae tell me, who's the villain here?"

America blinked, thinking over what the eldest British nation had said, his eyes narrowing as he caught on to what the other was saying. His brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to reply. "Well, it's you. I only ever hurt him once, you-" The glare Scotland sent him made him shut his mouth.

"Ah didnae destroy him, lad. Ah ken ye've developed a wee crush on him in the last hundred or sae years, but Ah'm gonna tell ye something here lad. An' ye better feckin' listen tae me good," Scotland said, his voice cold and cruel. He stood up, pulling out several bills, and placing them on the table. "Arthur is more than me wee braw. He is mine. An' Ah will personally see tae yer demise if ye ever dae anythin' tae harm him again." Scotland smirked at the flastered look on the young nation's face.

The door to the pub opened, and a hassled looking England walked in, closing his umbrella. Scotland walked over to him, and made sure that the American was watching, as he hugged the smaller male, and placed a teasing kiss on his lips. England blushed, though a soft smile appeared, and took the Scot's hand, pulling him out of the pub.

Scotland winked at America.