A.N – Sup dudes. So I have tried with this again, but I don't think I've improved it much… it still sucks. . and as this was the version you all chose, I hope you enjoy it! IT HAS CHANGED SLIGHTLY IDK. Man don't hate me, hate my use of the English word and how I can't string together a nice sentence ^_^

Allistor's head turned, slowly and solemnly in a fearful motion to the looming shadow that grew over the pair. The Scotsman protectively tightened the hold on the Brit, who was fighting to stay awake and stood to face the stranger that was Arthur's father.

The man was tall, with dark emerald coloured eyes, a colour similar to Arthur's. A crooked smile played his drunken lips, and as he exhaled the thick alcoholic scent was released into to tense silence. He didn't look too threatening.

"Fuck! Allistor?" he screeched suddenly as Allistor had fully turned to give him the full benefit of his angry Scottish glare. He stumbled backwards, his shaded eyes widening in shock. The beer bottle he clutched in his hand cascaded to the floor as if his fingers were suddenly buttered, the contents shattered dangerously and spilt messily over the dirty carpet. Allistor took a couple of defensive steps backwards, still holding the man's eyes evenly with his own steely green hues. Arthur began to stir, but only slightly, twisting in the hold of Allistor.

"How does he know you?" he mumbled against the Scotsman's chest, his eyes still screwed shut and his face contorted in agony. The eldest Brit gave a sharp bark of laughter, and Allistor shrugged, trying to put the pieces back together.

He knew this man. He knew the British teen.

The man knew him, and he was smirking; looking at him with smug expectation.

"I'm sure he can work it out," the drunken Brit drawled icily, sidestepping into the kitchen to stand face to face with the Scotsman. He looked so much like Arthur… so much like him. Allistor's brow furrowed, his gaze travelling away to the frail Brit that was hissing in pain inside his arms.

He knew him. He knew them. He was sure of it. How?

He looked so much like his brothers… the same emerald shining eyes, same bushy eyebrows, same British heritage… He'd only met Arthur this morning and all these thoughts had been occurring all day.

"Ye can't be…" Allistor murmured, half to himself, but as he looked up again the British man's grin had widened, and was now a blinding smirk that looked like it was about to tear his face in half.

"Oh, but I am." At that very moment, the front door burst open once again, this time almost fully ripping straight off its hinges.

"God!" an Irish accented voice spluttered angrily as he stumbled inside, giving the door an aggressive kick so it would open wider, "look at the state of this place!"

"I said you didn't have to come! I only wanted to see if Allistor was alright!" Arthur vaguely heard a different Welsh accent rattle back, but then the new pair fully scanned their surroundings. His nose wrinkled slightly in disgust,

"I see what you mean."

"And who the fuck ar- Cailean? Dylan?" the largest British man interrupted their mindless quarrelling, making both the boys jump in shock. The Irish accented boy, responding to Cailean cleared his throat, and attempted to straighten his shoulder, the other going by the name of Dylan tried to mimic him, but his face was screwed up with blank confusion.

"We just came to see how Allistor was…" Cailean told Arthur's father evenly, causing the other to give an enthusiastic nod behind him.

"How do you know us?"

They caught sight of Allistor, who smiled meekly, his arms still tight around Arthur. Dylan gasped, and the other started to shake his head, distracted from his previous question,

"Who did that?" he asked pointedly to Allistor. Allistor remained silent, a solemn glare settling on Arthur's father as he nodded towards him. Now it was Cailean's turn to gasp. The frail Brit groaned, twisting in pain against the Scotsman.

"I didn't want anyone to know…" he murmured. His father looked taken aback, his eyebrows tugging together in a thick scowl and his lips pressing themselves into a firm line, but his gaze never leaving the two new arrivals.

"You can't possibly think I'd do this to my own son…"

"Bu' ye did!" Allistor snapped back to him.

"No!" the eldest practically whined, his venomous attitude removed and replaced with something that resembled regret. Allistor shot him a simple acidic smile, one of his own large ginger eyebrows arching. He took an aggressive posture, keeping his features calm and relaxed even though inwardly he could feel fury spewing, bubbling over into a corrosive mess of rage. How could Arthur's father do something like this to him?

How could his father do something like this to Arthur?

How could their father do something like this to Arthur?

"The Brit can come with us," Cailean hissed to Allistor, but it was more of a command to his Welsh friend, with a motion to Dylan to step forward to take the Brit.

"Dragging your brother away in this state isn't very nice, you know," Arthur's father mentioned casually, letting a low drawl pass over 'brother', a hint of mocking rolling off his tongue onto the word.

"Beatin' m'bruther black an' blu' isn't eithe'," Allistor grunted with slight disgust dripping over his words, trying not to let his tone waver over the word 'brother'. He stood up straighter, almost to the other man's height; preparing for the worst.

"Brother?" Dylan stopped in his feeble tracks on his way forward to Allistor, swerving himself around the angered elder. He shot a glance to the Irish brother, but beginning to move forward again.

"Dadaí!" Cailean spluttered, somewhat confused but earning their father's attention, to Dylan's advantage of receiving Arthur.

He was slowly putting the pieces together, as was Allistor and Dylan… and Arthur.

"Brother…" Arthur mumbled quizzically, but lazily to himself, curling himself against the Scotsman's chest.

"I can do the same to the other brother, if you feel left out," their father said casually, turning his attention back to the Scotsman, saying it as if it were a daily request. Arthur practically felt Allistor's posture loosen and heat with anger against him.

"I'd like t'see yer fuckin'try," the Scotsman fumed almost silently, before he reflected his brother, dodging the Brit but never releasing his stony eyes with his own and eventually passing Arthur over.

Arthur grumbled at the change in hold, suddenly struggling to stand by himself and be released from the hold from yet another familiar stranger. How did his father know these boys?

"God!" Cailean caught his quivering body as he collapsed out of Dylan's arms, his feet delving for the floor, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." The Irishman's voice was slightly strangled on his last word just as he recognised everything he'd been through. The trio moved backwards, backing up against the wall as the Scottish brother stood challenging their father.

Arthur wavered on his feet, clutching his wrist he tumbled to stand on his own – but not without the support of Cailean.

The next thing that split the cold atmosphere was a strangled yelp of pain that held a British accent. As he had gone to land a hardened punch, Allistor had caught the fist, and simply twisted it around his back. With his other arm free, purely in defence of himself the Scotsman reached up to deliver a blow to the Brit's face, which happened to be strong enough to knock him down onto the floor; squirming in his own default defeat.

Allistor hadn't expected him to go down so easily, and he didn't. He still had a tight hold on the back of his arm, which made the Scotsman double over as he fell.

The half sober Brit lay bright and alert on the floor, as if getting into violence and almost losing was something he did on a daily basis.

"You can't hurt me… I'm your father," he spat, venomously making his innocence stand out. Allistor shifted, dodging the body on the ground to stand against Cailean and Dylan… and a half-concious Arthur. His brothers.

"But ye' le't us."

(Really bad) Scottish accent translations -

A'think we'd bette' be goin' - I think we'd better be going.

Arthur's com'n' wi'me - Arthur's coming with me.

Beatin' m'bruther black an' blu' isn't eithe' - Beating my brother black and blue isn't either.

I'd like t'see yer fuckin' try - I'd like to see you fucking try.