Memories of a Different Time

A Hetalia Fanfiction

Disclaimer: Still don't own, but this is fun!

Memories of a Different Brother

[A/N: Thank you all very much for supporting this fic! =^^= I'll keep doing my best, mkay?]]

—oO—Oo—

Summer was beginning to end. Both France and England were fast asleep that day, exhausted from a mix of their meetings and playing, so Peter was given the task of watching the house by himself until one of them woke up. The boy—who was starting to look more like a six year old—munched on snacks, pleased with being able to do whatever he wanted.

As the day started to near noon, Peter was starting to get bored—he had already jumped on the couch, found all the snacks hidden in the house, eaten all those snakes, jumped on the couch some more, ran around in nothing but his underwear, and had even drawn all over France's face with markers.

It had just started to become a boring day when there was a knock at the door.

Peter looked up as the knocks became louder and more frequent. He made his way to the front door, the bangs on the door growing louder still. He finally reached the door and peeked through the mail slot—he was much too small to reach the eyehole. What he saw was a pair of dark blue pants and brown boots. Peter frowned. That didn't tell him much.

"Who is it?" Peter finally asked warily.

"Eh? Who th' hell is answering th'damn door?" A deep masculine voice barked back at Peter. "This is Scotland. Tell that ass England that I'm here to see him."

Peter paused. He was specifically told to not answer the door to strangers, but this man knew who England was. That meant he wasn't a stranger, didn't it?

"Who are you to England?"

There was a snort from the other side of the door. "Tch, that's what I'd like t' know. I'd assume I'm nothing to 'im."

"If you're nothing to England, then I'm not supposed to let you in." Peter replied firmly.

Another snort. "You're a cheeky little brat, ain'tcha? I'm his older brother, Scotland."

Peter's face immediately brightened. He fumbled with the locks, trying to undo the top latch, which he could hardly reach. After a few moments, he threw open the door, grinning. "If you're England's brother, that makes you my brother, too!"

The person who stood before Peter was a particularly large man, with fiery red hair that came out of his head in tuffs,. His large eyebrows were cocked downwards to show displeasure, and his green eyes pierced right through the boy. There was a cigarette jammed in his mouth. The man—Scotland—looked at Peter with almost surprise, for a long moment. "Well, wouldja lookit that." he grinned wily. "Aye, you be a mini-England, small stuff."

The child stared up, wide-eyed, at the redhead in wonder. "England has big brothers?" he asked in awe.

Scotland shrugged. "Course he does, brat Why don' ya ask that stupid little brother o' mine about all o' us?"

"Can't. He and Jii are sleeping right now." Peter informed the older man smartly. He started to tug on Scotland's sleeve. "Anyway, come in, Big brother Scotland! Come in an' sit down!"

Scotland, mildly irritated, walked into the house, scowling as Peter continued to tug on his sleeve. At the older country's glare, Peter let go of him, almost pouting. The redhead sat down in a chair, only to have the blond immediately climb onto his lap. "So, Big Brother Scotland, how come you don't live with England?" he pestered, still wide eyed.

The redhead paused, then propped his chin on the palm of his hand. "Why don'cha ask 'im that for me, too, squirt?"

Peter pouted. "My name is not squirt." he informed the older man. "It's Peter."

Scotland took a drag from the cigarette in his mouth. "Hnn. Good t' know." he replied, starting to bounce the leg that Peter was on.

The boy smiled. "So, Big Brother Scotland, why're you here?" he asked.

Subtlety was not one of Peter's strong points.

Scotland stared at the child, then burst out laughing. "Ha ha! You cut right to the chase, don'cha, squirt?" he grinned, ruffling Peter's head. "Yer a chip off the ol' block, ain'cha? Just like England's brat, t'say somethin' like that!"

The boy frowned. "I told you, my name is Peter, and I'm not a brat!" he insisted at the older man, who simply continued to guffaw.

"Aye...you remind me o' England as a brat, y'know that?" the older man grinned, taking another drag of the cigarette. "And while I'm thinkin' of it, one other brat, too."

Peter blinked. "I do?"

"Tch, yeah you do. Mor' then I'd like to remember." Scotland suddenly made a face like he had eaten something disgusting. "Ugh, now that I'm rememberin', I need a drink."

The blond smiled, taking how he reminded the older man of England as a compliment. "So, then, what didja come over for, Big Brother Scotland?"

Scotland groaned, already getting tired of the overly-chipper child. "I came t'talk t' my brother."

Peter's face brightened. "England's asleep right now, but I'm your brother, too!"

"Englan'd be the one I wanna talk to at th' moment, squirt."

The boy frowned, almost pouting. "You mean you don't want to talk with me? But I'm bored! You can't leave now, Big Brother Scotland! You just can't!"

Scotland sighed irritably. "Fine, fine, squirt, but what d'ya s'ppose we talk about, hnn?"

Peter's brows furrowed for a moment, before he brightened up with an idea. "Let's talk about England!" he exclaimed excitedly, at which the redhead gave an apathetic shrug to. "England's always real nice to me! He's a great big brother!" The boy started to snuggle Scotland, much to the older man's horror. "Were you a good big brother to England, too?"

The redhead merely rolled his eyes. The child studied him for another moment, until finally, he stood up, tugging at Scotland's sleeve. "Hey, hey, d'ya wanna see something fun I did to Jii?"

Scotland blinked. "Who?"

"France-jii! He's sleeping right now, and I had some fun!" Peter giggled, obviously remembering something mischievous he had done. "Here, let me show you!"

—oO—Oo—

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Look at what you did, squirt!"

Scotland's merry—if somewhat disturbing—laugh filled the room of the Frenchman. France was laying on his bed, still deeply asleep, covers askew, with large black lines drawn all over his face and his bare chest. Next to him was a black marker. Scotland didn't need to ask in order to connect the dots.

"Ba ha ha! Nice going there, squirt!" the redhead childishly pointed his finger at France, tears nearly spouting out of his eyes. "Jeezus, lookit that! You got 'im really good, didn'ya?"

Peter smiled in return. "Yeah, Jii did it to England once, and I wanted to try it!"

Scotland continued to guffaw. "Jeezus, when was the last time I ever did this? Bah, must have been before I left this house! I can' even remember!"

The boy studied the older man for another moment. "...you don't like England, do you?"

"Ah? Well, I don't dislike 'im." Scotland continued to grin. "I just hate 'im, is all."

Peter's face fell. "...oh."

Realizing the child's downtrodden face, Scotland also frowned. "Aye, that don't mean I don' like you, though, squirt."

Peter's brows furrowed. "...England said that big brothers should always love their little brothers, and always try to protect them." Peter continued to study the redhead, obviously disappointed.

"Izzat so? Wonder who taught 'im that." Scotland rolled his eyes again, a distasteful look on his face. Then, noticing how his mood was affecting the child, he pinched Peter's cheeks. "Aye, aye, don' be getting all downtrodden, lad. You needn't worry about it."

Peter pouted slightly at being treated like a child. "Okay, if you say so." He pursed his lips. Then, as if he suddenly remembered something, he grabbed Scotland's sleeve and tugged him into the hallway. "Oh, that's right! You wanted to see England, right? I think that if I wake him up now, he won't be grumpy."

"Ah. I did come here t' do that, didn't I?"

Peter smiled. "I'll go get him!" Quickly, the boy dashed up the stairs and out of sight.

He opened the door to England's room quietly, not wanting to disturb him right away.. The nation was still sleeping soundly, his covers tucked tightly around him. Peter giggled as he tiptoed over to the bedside. "Hey, England, wake up, you have someone here to see you." he said, shaking the older nation. "Hey, England, wake up!"

"Nnn? Whossit?" England mumbled, rolling over.

"It's your big brother, Scotlan—"

Peter was unable to finish the sentence before England shot up, a terrified look on his face, his mouth hung slightly open. The older blond quickly dove back under the covers, shaking. "I'm busy! Tell him I'm busy! The last thing I want to do as soon as I wake up is talk to him!"

Peter's throat tightened at the sight of his older brother in such a state. "R-right. I'll tell him that!" he quickly retreated from the room before England could say or do anything more.

The child ran down the stairs and looked over to Scotland. "Sorry, Big Brother Scotland, but he's busy right now."

Scotland had gone back to sitting on the couch, his arm propping up his chin. "Tch. Figures. He's running away now, is he?" he said, unfazed. "Tell 'im to get his ass down here, or I'll be the one going up t' get him next."

Peter blinked. "B-but Scotland—"

The redhead quickly cut off the child by standing up and clamping his hand on the blonde's head, scuffling his hair. "I'll be having none of that pouting puppy dog look of yers. Hold on, Squirt, I'll be right back."

With that being said, Scotland strode past the child, climbing up the wooden stairs, two at a time. He made his way over to England's room—it was the same as when Scotland had lived there—and opened the door with more force then was required. "Aye, Artie, your big brother comes t'see ya, an' you don't have the balls to meet with 'im? I'm hurt, really."

The ball of covers curled up on the edge of the bed groaned. England sat up from the mess and looked up at his redheaded older brother sleepily, yet obviously frightened. "What in God's name do you want?"

Scotland took one look at the trembling blond and sighed. "Jeezus, Artie, y'really haven't changed, have ya?" he walked over leisurely to England, obviously lapping up England's fear gleefully. "Still scared shitless a' things y'can't handle, hnn? I just wanted t'know who the squirt was."

England gulped, unable to tear his eyes away from the redhead. "What's it any business of yours?"

"Aww, Artie, 'm hurt, really." Scotland grabbed England by the hair, scuffling the blond locks rather roughly. "What's with the squirt, Artie?" he repeated in a hiss.

England's eyes widened in fear. "W—he's my little brother, obviously! Now get your hands off of me!" England started to squirm, desperate to get away from Scotland as soon as he possibly could.

The redhead flashed an evil grin. "Aye, I think y'mean he's our little brother." he retorted casually.

"W—why in the world would you want to be his older brother? You certainly hate being one to me. And look at what a horrid example you would make!" England began to fuss, despite his fear. "If I had the choice, you wouldn't be able to get three miles near Peter, you hear me?"

Scotland rolled his eyes, tightening his grip. "That's not what I said. Y'really don't listen, do ya, Artie? I be correcting you—he's ain't just your tyke."

England didn't reply. He gazed off to the side, avoiding Scotland's eyes. Scotland chuckled. "He looks like quite the handful. Good thing y'got that French bastard t' help ya. 's funny, I thought y'hated the creep."

"What's it to you?" England replied harshly. "Why are you even bothering me?"

The redhead paused for a moment, then shrugged, still grinning. "Aye, Artie, what're your panties in a bunch fer, hnn? As for why I'm here..." he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I think I was originally here t' kick yet ass, but somehow, I don't feel like it anymore, thanks t' that brat of yers."

"Don't call him a brat."

Scotland's bushy eyebrows rose. "What was that?"

"I said don't call Peter a brat. He has a name, you know." England glared off to the side, a scowl across his face.

"...Peter, then." Scotland said, finally releasing England from his grip. "Well, then, Artie, you better be takin' good care of Peter, aye?"

"You don't need to tell me twice." the blond retorted.

"...aye. Y'better not be doin' things to make 'im cry. Otherwise..." Scotland left his sentence hanging, a creepy smile replacing his barely sane look. "Y'hear?"

England's eyebrows scrunched. Why do you have to be so intimidating all the time...? he thought to himself in frustration.

"'s because I'm yer older brother." Scotland said, reading England's mind. England flushed red, a slight hint of shame in his expression. The redhead jabbed England's chest. "There be no more screwing up with these kids, aye? I don't want t'listen to ya gripe about how much you sucked at raisin' the brat later on." For a slight second, England could have sworn that he could almost see softness in his older brother's expression. "I hate havin' to lecture ya about these things, y'hear?"

England lowered his eyes, still flushing. "Fine."

Scotland returned to his normal expression, his green eyes shining. "Well, then, Artie, I better be leaving ya. Y'got a squirt waitin' for ya."

England shot another look at his older brother. "Scotland, I thought I said—"

The older man burst out laughing. "Why so serious? The squirt's a squirt until he grows up!"

England ran his hand through his hair, irritated. "Peter hates being treated like a child. Nicknames like that make him upset, and I hate when Peter gets upset."

"Aah, so he's just like that other brat, hnn? What was his name...Alfred?"

England's eyes narrowed. "Why are you comparing Peter to that git? They're nothing alike!" he snapped, his expression twisting into something angry, rather then fearful.

"Ain't they? They sure as hell got the same complex with yo—"

"Goddammit, Scotland! They're nothing alike!" England stood up, throwing the covers off of the bedside. He glared accusingly at the redhead. "How dare you try to make comparisons between things you scarcely know about?"

Scotland backed away, almost mockingly, with his hands in the air. "Aye, aye, no reason t'be makin' a fight outta a simple statement, Artie."

"Get the hell out of my house!"

—oO—Oo—

It was another hour before England had calmed down enough to go down the stairs and meet with the blond child. Scotland was long gone.

Peter stood up from where he had been innocently playing and smiled at England as he walked down the stairs,. "England, you're finally awake!" he exclaimed.

England smiled. "Yes, I am. Sorry I was asleep for so long. What would you like to do?"

"Well, I wanted to show you what I did to Jii.."

England smiled, trying to ignore the dark feeling inside his heart, as Peter went on about his exciting day.

This was the way things should be.

~to be continued, next chapter...