HEY EVERYONE!~
Thank you so much to everyone that has reviewed so far!
This chapter is dedicated to xx-animeXalchamist-xx who really wanted to see some more of my OC Australia! Hopefully both she and you all like it.
Warnings: England getting really sick and thus perhaps a tad OOC and Scott x Eng up ahead!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the OCs and plot!
England honestly thought he was going to go crazy. He had complained of Ireland's intense stare less than a fortnight before but it seemed as if God still had some sort of grudge against him. It wasn't the happy, animated gaze that Australia was giving him as they discussed trivial but oh so needed topics such as foods, films and which celebrities looked like right plonkers on the red carpet since Australia had made an impromptu visit. It was the gaze of that Koala his son always brought along with him wherever he went that never seemed to be forced into quarantine if it did follow his owner to another House. Then again, England's mind supplied, all the nation's creatures and familiars were able to travel easily to and around any country.
England glanced at the creature once more but the only thing that happened was a definite reinforcement of his already solid opinion that the Koala was possessed by the Devil himself. Yeah, sure, England could admit that when Australia focused his attention on what he called 'that blasted animal', it was as sweet as sugar and as harmless as a newborn puppy. When the Aussie's attention was diverted however, England swore that its personality did a complete 180 degree turn. It became grumpy (America had once commented that it was grumpier than England himself and that was saying something!) and demonic. It had the testiest personality of any living creature that England had ever encountered and it seemed like the infernal fires of Hell itself burned within those coal-coloured eyes.
"Son, have you ever thought of taking that...Koala of yours to Vatican City so that he can exorcise it?"
Australia chuckled, youth shining from his entire demeanour. For the briefest of moments England felt envious even though Australia was, physically, only three years younger than him.
"Naa Mumsy, nothing wrong with me pet Sheila...and you know by now that Old Man Vatican scares the hell outta me! He's fuckin' creepy and with some of the things he goes on about don't even want to touch him with a one-hundred mile barge pole!"
England heaved a huge sigh when Australia began to do an impression of the old nation.
"Now now, son. You can't speak about Vatican City like that but-"
England began to chuckle as he brought a hand up to smother the sound.
"I do have to admit, though I have nothing against his nation, as a personification he is terribly awkward to be around. And that God-awful impression you just did..."
Australia watched his 'mother' laugh from his seat at the kitchen table. Though it was still summer in England, there was a slight chill from the remnants of his winter, that was balanced out by the beginnings of his spring warmth, seeping through his veins yet he couldn't really feel any of it; not when the man who had raised him for the majority of his life was laughing so freely and so happily. An almost overwhelming sense of joy filled him that he was able to make England laugh like that. After everything they had been through it may have seemed that their relationship could have soured but, despite it all, Australia was willing to die for the man, that is if he could. He could easily admit that his feeling towards his mother-figure were not always...healthy, England's treatment of him was not always...warm and England's people were not always kind but he could safely say that their relationship was strong, stable and devoted to the other's happiness and well being. Australia could honestly say that when he saw the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland on a map, he felt his heart ache. For many of his people are descended from his mother, uncles, aunt, brother and cousin's peoples and he was raised for years at a time in the House of the United Kingdom and so it felt like home almost as much as his native Australia.
"Ya know, Mummy, I always feel so, so happy when ya laugh like that because of somethin' I've done...Ya look so...I dunno...you look so much like a mum it's unreal...You're so sunny ya put me House to shame..."
England's chuckling died down and a blush highlighted his defined features.
"Oh stop it..."
Australia chuckled but then his expression turned into one of seriousness. England couldn't help but think that in strange, strange way, the expression didn't quite suit him.
"On a serious note, mum...how are ya? I hear it's just been you in this huge house for the past week or so..."
The question took England by complete surprise and it showed on his face.
"What do you mean, my boy?"
Australia shrugged.
"Can't a guy worry about his mum? Can't I worry about the person I love more than anything in the entire world? Well, apart from my people and his country.."
England still looked rather surprised but his features softened. He rubbed his neck with awkwardness under his son's levelled gaze.
"Is that why you've visited? Because you thought I'd be lonely?"
Australia grinned gently.
"Well...I've had nothing better to do since I got given some free time. Noah wanted to come but he couldn't...and I suppose it's rather selfish of me but I haven't had any quality time with you for a while..."
England looked at his son lovingly. He, too, missed both Australia and New Zealand since he didn't see them as often as he would like. However, he was deeply touched that Australia made the effort to come all the way to England just to see him. He figured that this was what human parents felt every time their children came back home to them safe and happy.
"Thank you so much...That...that's very very sweet of you..."
"Don't worry 'bout it, mumsy."
England nodded in thank and appreciation before he actually answered the younger man's question.
"Ermm...well, son...I suppose I'm OK but not great since the police shot that Mark Duggan fellow; I feel as though something is afoot...something is not quite right but I hope it'll pass after the peaceful protest for him today...It's fair to say that I am a bit lonely. I mean...well Cari, Alas and his Island children have been gone for almost two weeks because of meetings and other events in their own countries. North is with Mann again and I believe he will be staying with her for around three weeks. My children...the Channel Island twins and Canada are with their father, Francis, Hong Kong is practically always with China like how my little brother Peter is always with Sweden and that's about it really. Gilbert's paid me a couple of visit as he's here on business for a while and, all things considered, he's a very dear friend. Really, he's only staying around ten minutes away. But I feel a lot better now that you're here. I'm really happy that Gilbert visits but I'm absolutely ecstatic that you are here. I suppose I'm not used to being alone..."
Australia smiled sympathetically.
"Of course it's hard being alone when you're practically surrounded by the same people day in and day out. But...I'm glad that my company is making you happy...I didn't know if it would make that much of a difference"
England once again looked at his son with incredulity but then hurt clouded his expression .
"Why would you say something like that? Of course your company makes me happy. Surely you know that your company makes me happier than anything in the world because you're my beloved son? You know that if I were human I would gladly give my life for yours in a heartbeat if I needed too!"
Australia in turn was rather surprised by his mother vehemence but decided to answer honestly; he supposed that he was still wary about being punished for lying from when he was a young colony.
"Well..."
England raised an authoritative brow, encouraging the young man to continue.
"But you'll probably get upset by this!"
England gave him an infamous look that clearly stated, 'Does it look like I give a bloody toss?' It compelled Australia to continue.
"I...I suppose I've always felt that you only ever really paid attention to me because of America leaving you...I suppose I always felt second best even though he couldn't possibly love ya any more than I...Never in a million years will he love ya like I do...because after my actual Mother's death...it was you who took the role and even though we've had our rough times, it was you who was there for me for what? Three and a half centuries? That's a long time, mate...and in all that time I tried so, so hard to get your attention but I didn't always do it in a good or healthy way...yet it seemed to me and all the other kids that no matter what we did, America would always come first...but it's OK now...because we know...I know that's not the case..."
England listened attentively to his son pouring out his and Australia could physically see what he didn't want to happen; England's face became saturated with guilt and sadness. England leant forward to embrace the younger man fiercely.
"I...well...I don't know what I could possibly say to that except...except that I'm so, so sorry!"
Australia smiled gently and returned the affection with a kiss to his mother's temple.
"Calm down will ya? I already said that it's OK. Ya know me, I don't hold grudges for very long and this one has been cast-off for ages now...I love you, mum."
England moved from the embrace to cup Australia's tanned face in his hands and kiss the space between his brow.
"I love you too, Bruce, so very much...and if I hear from you or from anybody else that you have been doubting my love for you, so help you God when you see me next!"
Australia grinned happily, raising his hand in a mock salute.
"Yes Ma'am!"
England began to laugh once more.
"Haha!~ What am I ever going to do with you? Now the, how about some tea and biscuits?"
"Ooh, ooh!~ Yes please!"
England got out of his seat around the kitchen table and made his way to the kitchen table. The two young men began to natter about trivial things once more, quite desperate to move away from their rather depressive topic of conversation. Australia noticed with some concern however, that his former Colonial Master was trembling slightly, his movements stiffer. He tried not to think on it too much; England had said he felt fine only moments before. It became much more difficult not to become more and more concerned when England began to cough throatily however. The Koala began to paw the table, sensing something was afoot.
"Are you alright, mum?"
England tried to brush off the concern rather unsuccessfully.
"I'm *cough*fine, son, it's probably *cough, cough, cough* nothing..."
"No, mum, it's not 'nothing'! Tell-"
Before Australia could even finish his sentence, England suddenly became completely still, a very blank expression on his face. His pupils dilated until his eyes looked more black than green; transforming into desolate voids. A cup that he was holding fell out of his slackened hand and fell to the floor with a deafening crash; the contents spilling everywhere and the cup shattering. The Koala shrieked and England collapsed to the floor before Australia could reach him. He began to convulse violently; his frame thrashing wildly and twitching uncontrollably. Australia rushed to his side, crying out in alarm.
"MUM! SHIT, MUM!"
Australia knew better than to touch a man having a fit. He instead made sure that he didn't crash into anything, he quickly put a cushion from one of the chairs under his mother's head when he raised it suddenly. He knew it was never a good idea to put anything in a person's mouth during a seizure so he just prayed that he wouldn't bite his tongue. Australia bit his lip anxiously as he saw England blackened eyes roll back into his head and spit foam in his mouth. The older man gasped and whimpered and Australia felt utterly helpless.
"Dammit...C'mon mum..."
The fit lasted around ten minutes which would have had serious repercussions for a human. When England finally tensed all over and then relaxed completely in a form of quasi-paralysis, Australia noticed that he was completely knocked out. Trickles of blood spilled down his chin and Australia could feel his temperature start to rise dramatically and could see his mother sweating profusely. He became even more worried when he could see blood seep through his shirt.
"C'mon mum...I'm gonna look after ya, so don't worry...but stay with me...Please, please, please..."
Australia removed his belt from England's mouth. He quickly turned around to his Koala who was sitting worriedly at the table.
"You stay here for now, OK?"
The Koala made a sound of affirmation, understanding his master's command. Australia picked England up effortlessly and quickly carried him into his room as gently as possible. He undressed the blonde and saw a weeping wound forming just above his right hip. He just didn't understand why this was happening until he remembered what England had said earlier.
'I suppose I'm OK but not great since the police shot that Mark Duggan fellow; I feel as though something is afoot...something is not quite right but I hope it'll pass...'
Something had happened and if Australia had any hope of helping England properly he had to find out what. He heard England groan in deep pain and moved to wipe sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. He had to fight the urge to bring his hand back from England skin; he was burning. He heard 'Scotland the Brave' sound out loudly from England's jeans that were on the floor and Australia rushed to pick up the phone. When he answered he heard his uncle breathing heavily; his voice rather husky with pain.
"What th' fuck's happened, Artie!"
"No Uncle it's me!"
"Laddie...laddie what's happened tae Arthur...what's happened tae yer mam?"
"I don't know, I don't know! We were talking and then he got up but then he started spacing out and before I knew it he was on the floor having a fit! He's got this huge wound on his side and he's not waking up!"
Australia could feel himself panicking slightly when he heard his uncle groan in pain.
"Uncle, you alright Uncle!"
"Yeah I'll be braw, dornt feckin' worry abit me! Ye jist hang oan an' I'll be doon tae th' hoouse as suin as possible. Th' Islain quartit will be comin' doown wi' me tay. Keep that phain oan 'cos Ah willnae be th' only person tryin' tae call Artie..."
Australia hung up the phone after responding to his uncle and found that the older man was right, after putting the phone down it literally began to ring once more. For about half an hour he received calls from Wales who was practically screeching and sobbing in pain due to the very deep connection he shared with his twin, Ireland who sounded as rough as Scotland, North who was struggling with his own feelings of hurt and with helping Mann who seemed inconsolable. New Zealand and France also called in distress. France, along with the Channel Island twins and Canada were taking the first flight available to London, assuring Australia that they would be there within the next hour and a half to two hours. New Zealand couldn't possibly make it in time but sent heartfelt support.
Australia found that it would be almost impossible to look after England for that long without help. He couldn't leave him alone but he needed to get things to dress his wounds with and change his clothes as well as phone England's bosses. He racked his brain trying to think of someone, anyone, that was close enough to help. Then it hit him; Prussia. He rushed to the phone, scouring the contacts list until he found the necessary number. After about ten torturous rings a haughty voice responded.
"Hey Arzur! Vat's up? Feeling lonely?"
"No, Mr Prussia, it's me, Australia!"
After a pregnant pause Prussia answered once more, his tone curious but reserved.
"Oh? Zen, Australien, vat iz wrong?''
''Something's happened in my mother's country and now he's in a God-awful state! He's having fits and he's bleeding everywhere but it's only me here until the family gets here and-''
''Let me guess, yoo vant me to help yoo?''
''Yes! Please will you help him?''
Australia could hear a very, very gentle sound that sounded like a tender scoff.
''Ja, of course I vill help yoo. I'll be zere in around...ten minutes ja?'' (Yes)
''Alright, thank you...thank you so much!''
Australia heaved a sigh of relief when he put the phone down however it was short lived as England began to spasm once more. England's voice became stuck in his throat and only garbled, choking noises managed to claw their way out of his throat. Australia could feel the blood in his veins pound against his head as he realised that, on top of the wounds and fits, England could easily choke. He wouldn't die, but it would be highly unpleasant. When the second fit came to an end five minutes later, he gently pulled England to lay on his side so that any fluid in his mouth would just flow out. England began to whimper and cry even though he was unconscious. Australia moved England back into his original position laying back on his pillows and he removed the sweaty hair from his face and held his hand soothingly.
"Shh mum...it's alright, I'm still here..."
He deemed it safe enough to move away from England to find something more comfortable for him to wear. He found a pair of tracksuit bottoms that he noticed were too big for England. When he looked closer he saw that they were actually Scotland's. He saw that there were quite a few items of Scotland's wardrobe in England's room and though he would usually tease England about it, this time round he found himself eternally thankful. Scotland's clothes were bigger and thus were less constricting should England continue to spasm. He took the jogging bottoms and tried to take care of more wounds on his chest by wiping them with handkerchiefs that he had found in a draw by the bed. The man was still burning up, so Australia decided to forgo a T-shirt until his temperature decreased and decided not to put the jogging bottoms on him until the wounds were bandaged.
He heard a knock at the door and rushed downstairs to open it. There before him stood Prussia; snow white hair tousled from rushing to England's home, face flushed and chest heaving. Though he sounded rather blasé on the phone, Australia was in no doubt now that Prussia was sincerely at his wit's end; his renowned eyes, previously a deep ruby red but now tinged to wine because of Russia's heavy influence, were frenzied with worry and concern. In his hands was a full first aid kit, boards and straps for broken bones and oxygen.
"I brought some extra tings und I tried to get here az soon az possible...Vat haz happened? How iz he?"
Australia explained the situation to him as they rushed to England's room and Prussia's face immediately saddened at the state of his friend. He went over to the man and stroked his forehead wit a tissue, removing sweat from his brows so that it wouldn't go into his eyes. He spoke to England softly when he whimpered at the smoke that he was beginning to breath out (signalling that something was burning), much like how he used to do with Holy Rome and later Germany when they were little. Australia's expression softened at this because he wasn't very acquainted with Prussia at all and so it was nice to see such a soft side of him.
"It'z sad...very sad izn't it mein Freund? Ven yoo vere razer healthy only two days ago and yet look at yoo now...zese humans don't ahnderstand zat vat zey do impacts on zeir nations...Australien, pass zee kit...bitte" (...my friend...please.)
Australia did as he was told and helped Prussia clean and dress England's wounds with careful precision. Afterwards Australia took the time to call 10 Downing Street to talk to England's governmental boss, but he was not please with what he heard.
"What do mean, Sir, that the Prime Minister is on holiday? He doesn't deserve a fuckin' holiday with the state the UK is in now!...Enough, tell me what is happening...A riot? Well then why didn't fucking call as soon as you found out?...That's not good enough!..."
Australia's was furious with the response he received and obtained practically no information. He ended the call and concentrated on changing the bloodied duvet for a clean one from the wardrobe with Prussia's help. Slowly but surely, England became conscious although he didn't recognise his surroundings or the two other nations. After a while he became more aware, much to the others' relief. Still, the smoke continued to trickle out from his lungs and his coughing became harsher. Despite this, both Prussia and Australia truly felt that the worst of the disturbance had passed. They were wrong and they knew they were wrong when they heard a bone-chilling 'snap' and an anguished scream.
"ARZUR!"
"MUM!"
Australia cried with his mother with every snap and every scream. His bones were breaking; England's bones were shattering. The riot couldn't have been minor since buildings and land were being destroyed. The two healthy nations rushed to stabilise the man.
"Arzur, yoo have to tell me, vere doez it hurt? Vat iz breaking?"
Through his pain and tears, England managed to grit his teeth and speak clearly.
"My ribs...Good God my fucking ribs!"
"Australien, I need yoo to hold him down! Hurry!"
Again, Australia did as he was told as Prussia moved to connect England to the oxygen when he started to become short of breath due to the pain. Australia left briefly when England had calmed down and brought back ice to rub on England's chest to reduce swelling, water and a bucket in case the man was sick. There was no point in calling a doctor because England's body would heal and re-heal him to perfection as many times as need be. The nations discovered centuries ago that the only imperfection that a nation's healing capabilities were not able to amend was scarring.
Prussia wrapped England's chest so that the breakage was at less risk of becoming even worse. England was thankful because it meant one less worry. It was slightly uncomfortable at first but he got used to it. Prussia instructed against even the slightest of movements as they could damage his ribs further and puncture something. Prussia gave him some rather strong pain killers that made the blonde quite drowsy. When England's breathing became less laboured, Prussia removed the oxygen. Even when the ribs were sorted complications still happened. England wounds needed to be re-bandaged several time before the bleeding stopped.
"Bruce...Gilbert...The bucket...eugh...give me the damn bucket!"
Australia practically thrusted it into his mother's hands and grimaced sympathetically when England began to vomit violently. He could see blood and jet-black soot mix in with the vile yellow fluid. Prussia left briefly to get some mouthwash. When England finished vomiting, he gladly took the mouthwash and was thankful to be rid of the awful after-taste of his inner fluids. He slumped back against his pillows completely exhausted. He didn't know who would come first out of his family but he hoped they came soon; Australia and Prussia desperately needed to rest as well.
The second arrivals at the house were France, Canada and the Channel Island twins who had also brought supplies. They were updated by Australia.
"Angleterre!" (England)
"Mère!" (Mother)
England smirked tiredly,
"Oh good God, I will never get better with Frog Face around...but...but maybe the...children will...balance that out..."
France released his held breath in relief as he sat down on the bed and held England's hand gently.
"Mon seigneur...merci...I 'ave been so worried, cher. But zat awful personality reassures me!" (My Lord...Thank you...dear)
England chuckled but the pain became too much and soon he was coughing fitfully. Jersey took the bucket and bravely took on the task of cleaning it so that it was reusable. He also figured that there should be more than one bucket and sought to make this a reality. Guernsey, with her sweet manner and Canada with his gentle disposition helped their father/mother into the jogging bottoms Australia had gotten out previously. Prussia and Australia, or 'The Odd Team' as England had begun to call them, slumped down to rest against the wall as they let the French branch take over but they still kept a protective eye on the green-eyed blonde. The phone rang once more but when France looked at the caller ID, he felt that he had to ask England for permission to answer.
"Who is it, Frog?"
"Eet iz your boss..."
"Which one?"
"Eet iz your Reine, cher..." (...Queen)
"I was wondering when Lillibet would call...pass it here..."
France passed the phone over to the sick man and the room when silent as England conversed with his Queen. He tried his hardest to reassure her but they could all tell that she wasn't very convinced. Nevertheless, she was well acquainted with the inherent stubbornness of the nations. She updated him with information and passed on the good wishes of the entire royal family. When the conversation was over, England sighed but ignored the pain in his chest.
"Fucking hell..."
"What ees it, Angleterre?"
"The protest that Mark Duggan's family and friends organised, the one that was supposed to be peaceful, has turned into full-scale riots in Tottenham after a young girl was allegedly attacked by police. Windows have been smashed, buildings have been and looted and burned and they won't stop there..."
England began to shake and sob.
"It's going to get worse...so much worse, I can feel it my bloody bones...it's fucking spreading to all around London like the God-damned plague. They are so angry, my people...but it's ridiculous youths that are rioting for anything but a good cause..."
Canada spoke up as he leant forward to kiss his father on the head; moved by his despair and sadness.
"It'll be alright, monpère, because we're all going to be right here with you...helping you and loving you...So don't you worry because you need be strong...oui?" (...my father...yes?)
England leant his head against his son's shoulder.
"Thank you..."
With that the family tried their best to keep England stable until Wales showed up in complete hysterics. His dark chocolate hair was loose about his shoulders and his eyes were saturated in worry.
"BRAWD? My God..Brawd!"
He had to restrain himself from throwing himself at his twin as France moved so that he could sit on the bed beside him. Wales cupped his face tenderly and kissed him gently. Fat tears rolled in torrents down his face; England's mind supplied that he really was one of the most sensitive nations in existence.
"I'm fine, Cari...Well that's a...bloody lie. I'll be alright..."
Wales kissed him once more. He looked at England as if he had grown a second head.
"How can you say that you're alright, Brawd, when I could feel your ribs shattering?...When I almost crashed my car because of your fits?...How can you just shrug that off?"
England smiled ruefully at his twin.
"Dwi yn arfer ag ef..." (I'm used to it...)
As time went on, more and more family members began to arrive starting with Mann and North. The teen had his arm around his lover reassuringly even though he looked pained himself. Mann, though certainly not as hysterical as Wales, was very upset. Ireland stumbled in panting around an hour later. He hadn't expected to be reunited with England so quickly or in such a manner and his mouth became a sombre line engrained on his usually cheerful face.
"Me pet...me dear fella...Whaaat's happened ter ye?...Oi leave yer an' look at de state av yer now..."
England reached a hand out to his sweetheart. Ireland brought the hand to his lips to kiss it dotingly and then to his cheek so that he could nuzzle it.
"Heh...you know I've...eugh...been through worse..."
Ireland manoeuvred himself around Wales to kiss England deeply.
"Dat doesn't mean dat it becomes any easier te see yer loike dis..."
Again the family tried their best to create a more cheerful atmosphere but they could all sense England's progressively more despondent mood; Scotland still hadn't arrived and England was becoming sicker with each passing hour. By the sixth or seventh hour since he first spaced out, England was in a bad way. The buckets had become his closest friends and sweat dripped down his frame, saturating his hair and T-shirt. He shivered violently despite his raging feverishness, making him even more exhausted. His fever had reached it's highest temperature yet and burn wounds were forming and expanding on his chest. Though his ribs healed, they often re-shattered. He shivered with strain and his voice was raspy; the others knew that he wouldn't have a voice for much longer. It was a gargantuan effort to get England to the bathroom when he needed to go but it was done without complaint. England found that his limbs were becoming numb and his breathing was laboured. Bandages were again replaced another three times. By the sixth hour he had become completely frantic but hardly responsive, eyes unfocused and hazy, and in his hallucinogenic delirium England wept for Scotland, often mistaking Ireland for the older Nation. As much as Ireland tried not to let it get to him, at one stage he had to leave the room. As much as it pained the others there wasn't much they could do until Scotland arrived.
"Zis iz bad...Ve need to get Schottland here...jetzt '' (Scotland...now)
Francis nodded at Prussia's assessment but found that they couldn't get through to his friend.
''Merde...'' (Shit)
''Arthur...Arthur, dear what's wrong?''
Mann's concerned cries brought everyone back to attention. England had completely spaced out, his pupils had dialated until the green was almost non existent. Australia recognised the symptoms immediately.
''NOBODY TOUCH HIM! DON'T TOUCH HIM!''
A few of the nations looked at Australia quizically but soon realised exactly why he shouted out such a command when England's pupils contracted and then he suddenly began to thrash wildly with the force of his spasming. England's eyes rolled backwards into his head and fluttered. To the man himself it seemed as if there were a million blinding explosions firing off in his head all at once as violence outbroke in his capital. Australia ran as fast as he could to the bed and quickly undid the wrap that was holding him down in place as he knew that the restraining action of the wrap would only make the fit worse. England grunted with effort as his fit continued. With the wrap across his chest removed, it wasn't hard to figure that England's weak ribs were at risk however the nations believed that a fit wouldn't be able to shatter or fully break the bones. Though they prayed that none of the humans would destroy the buildings or the land, their prayers went unanswered. Another loud 'snap' echoed powerfully around the room.
A loud commotion was heard downstairs, signalling the arrival of the Scottish party. Scotland stormed in just as another 'crack' resonated loudly throughout the silent room. His children behind him watched their uncle in horror. Inner Hebrides held on to her twin, Outer Hebrides, whilst tears streamed down her face. Shetland brought his small hands up to his mouth to supress his gasps. Even Outer Hebrides and Orkney, who were usually the epitomes of 'stiff upper-lips', looked visibly shaken. The expected their uncle to be unwell, but not like this. Scotland's baritone voice suddenly resonated across the room.
'ARTHUR!'
North and Ireland moved to restrain the larger man when he tried to rush to his husband's side but Prussia, Australia and France had to help when his thrashing became too powerful.
''FECKIN' LET GO AV ME! ARTHUR!''
Prussia's warning shouts spoke of sympathy but with an underlying aggression hinting at his nature as a war machine.
''If yoo touch him now, Schottland, yoo vill fuckin' hurt him! Und if zat happens, I vill kill yoo!''
''AH WILLINAE HURT HIM! HE'S MY FECKIN' HUSBAND YA NAZI BASTARD!''
Prussia took absolutely no offence to being called a Nazi; he understood that Scotland didn't mean it in the slightest. However he was going to protect his friend at all cost. The five men struggled to keep hold of the man whilst the family looked on in shock.
''Alasdair, tink av de fella! Arthur 'as naw control over 'is body! Yer man cud feckin 'urt yer by accident!"
''I DORNT CARE! LET ME GO TAE HIM! ARTHUR! ARTHUR!''
''Please, mon cher ami! Calm down!'' (...my dear friend!)
With every 'crack' and grunt, Scotland became more and more frantic with worry. The fit lasted for around ten minutes and everyone cried out with relief when it was over. The men let go of a desperate Scotland who shoved them all to the floor and then ran to England's side. The blonde was unconscious but his breaths came out rather evenly yet still very ragged. Scotland didn't care; he was just glad that the younger man was breathing at all. Everyone watched as Scotland became undone by the sight of England and were moved. The oldest nation ran his large but gentle hands over England's face, removing the hair. With tears in his eyes he spoke bitingly through gritted teeth; his entire aura was menacing and enraged.
''Yer all a right bunch o' bastards...How dare ye keep me from him?...Ah'd understand if was from some random person but...but from me own husband!''
Australia spoke up before anyone else. A fire raging behind his fir-coloured eyes.
''We had ta, Uncle...He could have hurt you and the fit could've gotten worse...And just remember, you're not the only one he's fucking married to...We are all upset but we have to do what we can to fucking help him and that sometimes means taking a step back to let things like that run their fucking course!''
Scotland stared dumbly at Australia and the room was silent after his uncharacteristic outburst. Scotland looked towards Ireland, Wales and North and then to the others in the room. As much as his heart ached, he saw the sense in the words. He hung his head and, just like that, his aura became ashamed and upset.
''Yer reit...Ah'm sorry...''
Australia smiled once more and Scotland turned back to England. Behind him, he could hear the family scurry about trying to find medication, bandages, more blankets and clothes.
''That's alright, Uncle...We understand.''
It wasn't until the next morning that England's eyes began to flutter open. They were bloodshot, dazed and completely unfocused but Scotland and the family were so, so happy. They couldn't sleep with the extent of their concern. Those murky orbs landed on the tall, broad red-head looking down at him with such earnest concern, relief and love with a deep confusion that, in turn, confused the man.
''W-who...are you?...''
Scotland tried not to look too hurt as he understood that after fits a lot of people suffered from momentary memory loss.
''Aa'm someone w-whoo...whoo loves ye very, very much...someone who d-didne expect t-tae see ye sae sick...''
''Well I'm s-sorry...but...you look...familiar...like someone...I k-know...He's just as...p-pretty as you...''
Scotland, despite it all, chuckled at England's characteristic biting sarcasm and blushed at his compliment.
"Nae need tae be sorry mah loove...and thank ye..."
England drifted in and out of consciousness yet slowly but surely realised just who was there right next to him. Scotland felt warm when he saw a happy yet disbelieving light shine in England's tired, dull eyes however they still spoke of a profound delirium.
"You...look like...m-my Alas..."
"Aye, lad...it's me...it's your Alas...Ah'm here noow sae ye jist sit tight..."
Suddenly England's eyes began to water and Scotland became worried. England took his hand and brought it to his roughened lips. As tired as he was, he held the hand to him as if it were the most precious thing in the world and to him it was because it was the hand of his husband; the man he loved so very much and the very same man he often had not treated well. England sobbed with a pain in his heart that was stronger than his physical pain.
"It can't...b-be you...You weren't here...b-before...You must b-be...one of those horrible visions...t-taunting me..."
Scotland tried to keep calm but England's agitated behaviour was making him anxious. He prayed it didn't show on his face.
"It's me, lad...I got here a couple uv hours ago..."
England reached his leaded arms up to caress his loves face. An even stronger flame of recognition lit up his frenzied eyes when he ran his hands through the silky fire-coloured hair and touched the smooth skin. The man's emerald eyes seemed to consolidate the connection.
"Alas?...My Alas...I c-cried out...for you and...and I waited...b-but...but you never came!"
Scotland bent down and kissed the younger man's cheeks gently.
"Ah knoow but I had tae drive...Ah'm sae sorry..."
England raised his tired arms upward to hug the older man. Scotland tried to hold himself up so that he didn't crush England's already damaged chest. Scotland kissed England's cheek firmly and then began to nuzzle the soft skin of his neck tenderly, not really caring about the sweaty state of it. England sighed in bliss but it ended as a sob as he returned the nuzzling tiredly.
"Mmmh...*sniff*...you're here now...S-s'all that...matters..."
Scotland smiled ruefully.
"Ah'm nae goin anywhere until ye get better..."
After a while, England's arms slackened as sheer exhaustion took him away to sleep. Scotland gently moved his arms to rest at his sides. He took in England's appearance once more and found himself rather speechless again. He looked awful to put it mildly. His usually peachy skin was pale and sallow looking. Huge bruises and burns blossomed along his chest. Prominent bags and and dark circles rimmed his eyes that, when he had looked into them, were bloodshot. A sudden surge of fury overtook him completely and he decided that a phone call was in order. Australia remained by his uncle's side and the Island quartet and the Channel Island twins had, since the previous night, begun to man the kitchen and cook for everyone.
"Mr Cameron?...Ah it has bin a case ay lang time nae see but Ah think it's a guid idea if we keep it that way...Why ye ask? Sae that yoo're face doesnae git smashed in!...Dornt ye dare talk tae me like that when th' capital is bein' ransacked by riots that are spreadin' like afeckin' disease an' when Englain is unconscioos in his bed havin' fits, with his ribs shatterin', his skin burnin' tae charcoal an' not knowing whoo Ah bloody am fer th' life o' him! An' yit yoo're at th' Italys' Hoouse!...My point exactly yoou should be here!...Yeah guid idea ye feckin' arsehole, ye better git oan th' next plane here an' sort thes mess oout or otherwise Ah willnae be very canty..."
With that Scotland hung up on his Prime Minister and began to phone the mayor of London. The conversation pretty much went the same since Johnson was on holiday at Canada's House. He stressed his ethos of 'When you lead a nation in crisis, you do not abandon the land and it's people.' He looked back to Australia, who had remained in the room to look after his mother, and embraced the younger man. His voice shook with emotion.
"Thank God ye cameall thes way even though ye didne have tae..."
Australia's facial expression softened some.
"You don't have to thank me for something like that, Uncle...He is my mother and you are my family...I would do almost anything for all of you..."
Scotland raised himself and cupped the younger man's face.
"Nae, Ah doo have tae thank ye cos ye waur here wi' him. He woods have bin sufferin' like thes all alone fer hours if ye werenae here. God bless ye, laddie...God bless ye, yoo wonderful bairn!"
The entire family and Prussia (who had practically moved in) settled into a rather stable routine over the following days. The Island quartet and the Channel Island twins became in charge of cooking and cleaning (poor Jersey was continuously stuck with cleaning the buckets), Canada, Mann and Wales of tending to England's needs in regards to washing and going to the bathroom, France would help him change his clothes and brush his teeth, Ireland would play his violin and Wales would sing to calm England when he became distressed, 'The Odd Pair' tended to England's injuries and illnesses and Scotland took over as head of the UK until England was well again.
Though England's condition became much worse as the riots spread to at least eleven London areas and boroughs and then outwards to West Bromwich, Manchester, Liverpool, Birmingham, Bristol, Nottingham, Salford, Leicester and Wolverhampton. Throughout all that time until the eleventh of August, David Cameron and Boris Johnson were nowhere to be seen. Calls of support from other nations poured in but England was unconscious or delirious for at least seventy-five per cent of them. New Zealand called at least three times every day.
By August the ninth, England's body had almost completely failed him. Both his legs and his right arm were restrained by temporary paralysis and his left arm was slowly growing just as numb as his major cities were looted, burned and destroyed. Blows were exchanged between his people and the police and both buildings and buses were burnt to the ground. His temperature at times became so scorching that it was difficult for the other nations to be near him. Due the raging anger of his people, England often lost his temper much quicker than usual. This was demonstrated by his very loud rant at his Prime Minister when he had called to ask how he was. His language was fouler than his pirating years and the rage was blatant. This temper continued when he was informed by the Head of the Metropolitan Police that although it was reported that Mark Duggan fired at police when the had attempted to arrest him on the fourth of August (leading to the police firing at him, which resulted in his death), this was in fact not true. More outrage was caused when England was informed that the reason that the peaceful protest in Duggan's name failed was because of slow police response and because of an allegation that the police had attacked a 16-year-old girl on the sixth of August. He knew that the girl was a teen but he didn't expect her to be so young.
During the middle of the night on the ninth, whilst the majority of the family slept, Scotland remained wide awake by England's side; he simply couldn't risk sleeping when England's condition could worsen at any moment. A quite voice kept him conscious despite his body begging for sleep.
"Alas..."
"Aye..."
"You should...sleep...Can't have *cough*...you getting run down...too"
Scotland smirked.
"Ye know that won't happen, mah dear..."
"Hmph..."
Scotland held England's left hand and he prayed that he could at least feel something.
"How are ye feelin' noow?"
England chuckled with mirth but the sound was raspy and grating.
"Do I...have to answer...*cough*...that?"
"Nae...Ah dornt suppose ye dae..."
England looked pensive for a moment.
"Alas?"
"What, lad?"
England sluggishly let go of Scotland's hand and, with some immense effort, hauled it up to the back of Scotland's head. He dragged the man's head forward and he kissed him him sweetly. He was thankful that Francis had been helping him to brush his teeth because he was able to enjoy the pleasant warmth of Scotland's mouth on his. Scotland was rather surprised but he indulged the younger man and tried to be as careful as possible. After a while England move back to disconnect the kiss. Scotland tried to lean forward, seeking to connect their lips again but instead had to settle for giving a firm kiss to England's cheek when the younger man turned his face slightly.
"Sleep...please..."
Scotland growled gently.
"Hoow can Ah sleep when yoo're sae sick an' when yoo've jist kissed me?"
England turned his face back towards Scotland.
"'Cos...you'll just make me...feel bloody worse if you...run yourself into the...ground...I mean it, Alas..."
England kissed him slowly once more, quietly delighting in the deep, throaty groan that rumbled into his waiting mouth. Scotland's mind shut down briefly and all he could think about was how much he loved the younger man and how scared he was when he rushed into the room only to see him fitting like that and having to hear his bones shatter as England's youth ran riot in their cities; their homes. It was such a horrible feeling seeing the man he loved in such a state and not being able to help. He had cursed England to suffer like this before when he himself was kept starving in the Tower of London, when England had walked all over him and hurt him, but asking for it to be done, and actually seeing it be done are two very different things the red-head realised. Scotland moved his head to whisper in England's ear.
"Think aboout hoow Ah feel...Ah cannae bare tae see yoou like this..."
England groaned.
"Don't argue...with me...Come...at least sleep by my side...if that makes...you feel better...I, myself...like that option..."
A deep voice suddenly alerted the older nations to a new presence.
"I think that mum has a point, Uncle. I'll keep watch for a while..."
Australia entered the room quietly, his socked feet padded the wooden floor mutely. Even in the darkness illuminated slightly by the moonlight filtering through the curtains and windows, his face was as kind as when the brilliant radiance of the sun shined upon it.
"That...is quite unnecessary...son...You're another *cough*...one that needs...his sleep..."
Australia chuckled lightly.
"Naa, mum. I made ya a solemn promise that I would look after you and I plan on keeping it, if ya don't mind, 'cos you've raised me to always honour promises..."
England made a 'che' sound.
"I should have...known that you would...use something I...bloody taught you...against me!"
This time Australia laughed outright and the sound was very pleasant to the older nations' ears.
"Stop complaining and let me help ya mum!"
England blushed through his high fever but covered his embarrassment with a scoff.
"Oh alright...*cough, cough*...come here...and convince your Uncle to sleep...*cough*...next to me..."
Australia walked over to the bed and gave his uncle a pleading look. England moved his heavy arm so that he could cup Scotland's cheek in order to give him the exact same look. Scotland found that he didn't have it in him any more to refuse. He walked over to the other side of the bed and carefully got in. Australia moved into one of the more comfortable chairs next to England's bed. He held the blonde's more receptive left hand whilst Scotland held the numb right hand. Scotland looked at England with a despairing gleam in his eyes showing that he was almost begging for reassurance.
"Yoou can feel thes, right? Yoou're hand in mine?"
England turned his head slightly and smiled kindly.
"Yeah...a bit...It's warmer than...my hands."
Scotland smiled at England and with one last kiss on his lips and Australia's kiss on his head they all settled down. England stared rather guiltily at the ceiling; he didn't have the heart to tell Scotland that he couldn't feel a thing. Australia knew this and thought it best to remain quiet about it, the phrase 'take the secret to the grave' sprung to mind. Though Scotland slept deeply, England was fitful but he did take great solace in the familiar weight next to him, the warm gaze watching over him and accompanying him in the darkness. The warmth of his son's large hand spread to his freezing one.
Slowly but surely, England got better. It was one of the worst experiences of his life but when asked whether the London Riots were less worse than the Blitz England had said that yes, the Riots were not as destructive or as painful but they were just as terrifying. These were his own children attacking him, lashing out simply because they could in a misguided attempt to fulfil their our selfish desires. England could safely say that he was ashamed of those that took part in the destruction. He felt really let down by them. What started out as a peaceful protest for justice, turned into chaos. England was terrified not only for the future but for the state of the Olympics. Would his people clean up their act beforehand? Would the other countries take the events off him before they could even do that?
Well some things gave England hope. There were people rising up against the rioters, defending their shops, their neighbours, family and friends, their principles and their most holy Places such as Churches, Mosques and Sikh Temples. Vigilantism was on on the rise and though sometimes it wasn't a good thing, England could sympathise with their plight. What right did some silly youths, some younger than ten, have to cause such misery? He smiled and laughed outright when he felt people from his Turkish, Kurdish, English, Pakistani and Bangladeshi communities began chasing down some mask-wearing youths in defiance of their actions in North and East London throughout the eighth and ninth of August.
It was the fifteenth of August and all of the major rioting had come to an end five days before. Minor incidents still occurred however but England could see a definite end in site. He still couldn't believe that the youth nowadays thought that successful looting comprised of stealing paracetamol, carpets or even Tesco Value Basmati rice. What was even more ludicrous was that most of the youth had taken pictures of themselves with their 'goods' and posted them on what he called those 'bloody facebookie, twittering bird nonsenses on the internet!'
He had regained feeling in his limbs. His bones, burns and wounds had healed (although they did leave scars) and his mind was clear of the insanity that had previously plagued it. He could feel the warmth of Scotland's hands in his.
He was so exhausted, however. So very, very fatigued that he could sometimes scarcely keep his eyes open. He had to admit though, he would take the weariness on for days rather than suffer through one more hour of violent rioting. On this day he had managed to stay awake long enough to drink a cup of tea whilst he sat up in his bed watching episodes of Jeremy Kyle.
"You look so much much better, mum. Hahaha!~ Very soon you'll be back to your usual self!"
England looked towards his Southern son who had entered the room cheerily with a pleasant smile on his more healthily coloured face.
"Well, Bruce, are you very sure that...you want me to go back...to my old, grumpy self? It seems as if you've taken a...great delight in fussing over me whilst...*cough* whilst you could..."
Australia's smile became more reserved and mature in comparison to his usually large, sunny grins but it was still just as sincere and heartfelt.
"I would hate for you to be in that state again but, you're right; I do love fussing over you..."
England chuckled and, after putting his tea cup down, reached an arm out to Australia.
"Come here, my darling boy...my Little Southern Sun..."
Australia blushed at the old nickname that England had given him in his youth. He obediently went to England and felt a warmth bubble in his chest when the older man pulled him down to sit with him on the bed. He embraced his mother and then happily let his hands be held by him. After a significant pause, England suddenly looked at him analytically and then smiled.
"Don't you dare change, Bruce...because..."
Australia looked at England with a quizzical look but listened intently nonetheless.
"You have something that is the envy of...of men, women and nations everywhere..."
"What's that, mum?..."
England raised his hand and laid it on the expanse of skin where, just under it, Australia's heart beat steadfastly and true.
"You have...such a beautiful heart...Coming all this way to keep me company and...staying up all night...*cough* to see me through...After all I've done, I'm rather surprised that my children and my family are such wonderful people...and such fine nations..."
Australia smiled beatifically at his mother.
"Well, after all is said and done we still all have each other. That's what makes us so wonderful, I think, that we are willing to move on and love each other still. We've become so wonderful because our experiences have made us strong and appreciative. And as for the beauty of my heart..."
Australia kissed England gently on the cheek and smiled happily..
"You should take a look at yours..."
England blushed but really appreciated the time with his son. He was lucky if his saw him once every four to six months, perhaps more if there are many meetings in the year. Australia suddenly bounced on the bed, drawing a hiss from England's lips to which he mumbled a sheepish apology.
"The family want to know if you want to spend a little bit of time in the garden now that your much better...You know, get some fresh air and stuff."
England could feel a bubble of sudden excitement expand within him. What he wouldn't give to go outside once more! Without thinking of his reputation, he answered happily as his eyes shone with excitement; much like a little boy.
"I would love that!...Please get me out of this bloody room!"
Australia laughed heartily and began to help England out of the bed. When England's knees buckled from underneath him, Australia picked him up bridal style and began to carry him. For once, England didn't complain and instead rested his head on the younger nation's broad chest. He took great comfort from the even breathing.
The light streaming into the kitchen made England flinch and when Australia carried him outside it was positively blinding. However it was wonderful to be bathed in the natural light and he smiled as the smell of all his flowers caressed him gently. He could hear the family in the distance, as loud as always.
"They're by the Tea House near the river, mummy, so just stay awake yeah?"
England nodded in confirmation. He looked around as much as he could from his position and he felt his heart swell with the beauty of the nature around him. He could have practically sobbed at the joyous feelings aroused within him just because he was out of his room. It meant he had survived another tribulation in his long, long life. He was still alive and loved and accompanied; the taunting loneliness that had plagued him in his delirium was no longer haunting him. The world seemed to welcome him back and Mother Nature greeted him like a long lost son. He saw his family inching ever closer to him and he felt happy; he was even pleased to see that demonic Koala!
"Arzur! It'z so vahnderful to see yoo ap!~ I knew yoo couldn't vait any more to see ze Awesome me!~"
England chuckled, the sound much less raspy to everyone's delight.
"Oh hardly, Gilbert! I'd be more excited about being locked in a cage with the Frog Face!"
A strongly accented yet seductive purr rumbled from a certain Frenchman's throat.
"Oh mon petit lapin, eet's nice to know zat you 'ave finally succumb to my charms and amour!~"
England immediately blanched and then dead-panned.
"On second thought, Gilbert, how nice to see you my friend! You can't even begin to understand how much I've missed you!~"
The entire family burst out laughing and even France himself couldn't suppress his amusement despite replying
"Oh Angleterre! Why do you always reject mon amour? Mon cœur est brisé!" (...my love? My heart is broken!)
Australia let him sit down in one of the comfier chairs in front of the tea house. Drinks and food were on the table and for the first time in a while, England's stomach rumbled with want and with not disgust. Wales prepared a light plate for him; pancakes, maple syrup, cream and fruit. All done by France and Canada who figured that this was a celebration that fully deserved their culinary prowess. After all, the majority of the nations (except for England, Scotland, Australia and Prussia) had to leave by nightfall; it was a miracle their bosses let them stay for so long. England's cheeks flushed in delight when he ate his first mouth full. Canada giggled sweetly.
"Is that good, Father?"
This time England's blush became tinged with slight embarrassment and, for once he decided to humour his son and by extension France.
"Oui...c'est très, très bien...Merci..." (Yes...it is very, very good...Thank you)
Canada giggled in happiness but huge smirks were plastered over the faces of Scotland and France.
"Oh dornt be getting' all shy now!"
"Honhonhon!~ Mon Angleterre doez love me!~ Yoo see 'ow 'ee speaks my language with such reverence!~"
"Shut up, Alasdair! And Francis that wasn't for you!"
"Eet doezent matter! And you know full well ma cher, zat I taught Mathieu everyzing 'ee knows!"
England smirked at France.
"Yeah and made it one-hundred times better!"
France looked as if he had just been denied a lay. His eyes then narrowed and he retorted dramatically but with good humour.
"Tu est un bâtard! As good as Matthieu eez, zee French are masters at cooking!" (You are a bastard!)
"Oh belt up, you imbecile!"
"I have to agree with Father, Papa but you're getting a bit defensive eh? Lost your touch have you?"
Canada's smirk seemed to be wider than England and it hit Ireland then, 'That's one way in which those two are similar!' France looked positively offended and thus started another round of 'debating' where, by the end of it, the whole family had ended up laughing until their sides split. Even the Koala decided to behave and, for once, actually let England pet it.
By the late afternoon, everyone had begun to say their heartfelt goodbyes, wishing England all the best and leaving behind their hopes for his health and happiness. England found himself in Australia's hold once again as he said goodbye to all of them with tears in his eyes, thanking them sincerely for all they had done for him over the week or so. The Scottish Island quartet were the first to go, the long drive ahead meaning that they had to leave earlier. Both Wales and Ireland left sweet kisses on his lips, Wales promising him that he wouldn't be gone for long but Ireland promising him that he would keep in touch until circumstances allowed him to visit again. Wales tried to show a brave face but, much like North Italy, he quickly had to wipe tears away. Mann and North were the second lot to leave, both knowing that, much like Wales, they would be home very soon.
"If anythin' 'appens, anythin' at al', den jist call me or Ela an' we'll both be down before yer nu it. Gran' so?"
After confirming this, North pressed a firm kiss to his mother's temple and Mann to both of his cheeks. The last to go were the Anglo-French party.
"As much as I'll miss you, mon père, I'm rather glad zat I do not 'ave to clean buckets any more!"
England laughed.
"Too right, George! But thank you for doing it anyway, my brave boy!"
After England both Scotland and Australia swatted away France's lecherous advances as a form of 'goodbye', he settled for a rather chaste kiss on the lips for both Scotland and England. He hugged Prussia and Australia and they were gone, but not before Canada embraced his father, brother and uncle heartily.
"Je t'aime mon père, mon oncle et mon frère! And thank you so much, Gilbert, for all your help! Make sure you add me on Facebook!" (I love you my father, my uncle and my brother!)
Prussia laughed loudly and cheerfully, glad he was able to see his friend after quite a long time.
"I vill, mein Freund!"
After the last of the family disappeared, England began to feel sleepy and thus the others felt it best that he should get all the rest he needed to become strong. Australia himself looked like he was about to collapse since he had stayed up with England, keeping watch over him, throughout the entire night. Scotland took England off him and Australia's retired, but not before England grabbed his sleeve.
"Remember what I told...you earlier, alright? And what I said before this all started, I love you...and that will never change regardless of whether...or not you do...but I hope you don't because you're my Little Southern Sun; perfect...just as you are and second to no one..."
Australia's smile was stunning then; beatific and warming.
"I'll remember, mum, and thank you...I love you so much you don't understand!"
England hugged him tightly before letting him go. He would be awfully sad to see the boy go in around a week and he was upset that he couldn't as much time with him as he would have liked, but he was still happy.
Scotland took England back to his room and closed the door. He set the younger man back down on the floor after he expressed his wish to walk for a bit. Though he had to lean of the taller male for support, he walked steadily and confidently. He suddenly grabbed Scotland and pushed him down on to the bed, the sudden action surprising the elder nation. England then crawled languidly into his lap and with his remaining strength hovered over him, supporting himself on slightly shaky arms.
"Arthur what are ye-"
The Celtic nation was cut off my a very intimate kiss. As much as he would like to protest, he knew he couldn't refuse the younger. He smiled into the kiss when he realised that England's room was one of the only ones that were sound proofed and Australia and Prussia's rooms were two floors above. He began to unbutton the loose shirt and remove it from his lover's frame. He was extra gentle because even though England had no more injuries, he was still recovering. England didn't mind; he sighed with bliss at the gentle treatment. Scotland carefully flipped them over, England crawled backwards so that his head could rest on the pillow. As Scotland worshipped his bruised body and as he ran his fingers through that fire-coloured hair, they whispered things that expressed their devotion, adoration as well as their worry for the other, 'I've missed you...I love you...I adore you...'
When Scotland gently entered his love, the sudden feeling of completeness overwhelmed them both. England gasped out, every moan and mewl a seductive lullaby to Scotland's ears. England pulled him down to kiss him deeply.
"This...This wholeness...mmmh...only with you, Alas...I swear...this is yours...Without you here...Without you...ahh...here, I am incomplete..."
The word touched Scotland's heart and increased the carnal, burning need within his loins.
"Aye, luv...this is what makes ye mine...first an' foremost...this...is why avall earthly joys, thoo art mah choice..."
England blushed heavily at the words; the same words that Scotland had engrained into his Christmas present. With every thrust he could feel himself melt; both him and his husband becoming one soul but with two bodies. His heart thumped loudly as Scotland moaned out his name like a mantra, the hand he was holding above England's head was brought to his chest and England could feel the thundering pulse matching his for pace.
"Arthur...Arthur..."
England spoke quietly and lovingly.
"Does this...heart beat for me, Alas?"
Scotland landed a thrust on England's sweet-spot, causing him to see stars.
"Aye...Thes heart loves ye coz Ah dae...because ye let me loove ye like thes..."
England brought his lithe legs up to wrap them around Scotland's body. They rubbed against him sensually as he sinfully undulated his hips upwards to meet his partner's. His hand's caressed everything they could possibly reach. He looked at Scotland in awe; even though he probably didn't look as healthy as he liked, the man above him still looked upon him as a treasure, not merely as an object of desire. He was still just as glorious as he remembered as the gentle light in the room created a golden glow upon his creamy skin.
They continued making love until they were spent but even after that they cuddled together, basking in their post-coitus bliss.
"You know, Alas?"
Scotland's voice rang out sleepily.
"Aye?"
England simply responded gently.
"They won't...get me down...those riots...I'll do my...bloody best to do what...I can to make my country one...that everyone can be...proud of...just like how I'm...so proud of...my family...and my Little Southern Sun...I'll have to...treat him soon...Hmmm, love you...Alas...love you so...Zzzz...Zzzz"
England couldn't even finish what he wanted to say, the events of the day and the night catching up to him. Scotland kissed the nape of his neck and hugged him tighter.
"We're proud anyways...cos though yoour people showed th' worst av ye...they also showed th' best...that's why Ozzy looves ye so...that's why Ah admire an' loove ye..."
They slept soundly until around ten. As he promised, England took Australia out for the day. They just roamed around London, seeing with pride how people had picked themselves up after the riots. They ate, walked along the Thames and even rode on the London eye in the evening. All the while Prussia and Scotland watched the duo contentedly. Both taking satisfaction from the strong parent-child bond. When they stopped off at Trafalgar Square, Australia stared in awe at the lion statues that guarded Nelson's Column that he had seen so many times before.
"What's wrong son?"
England had come up behind him to link their arms together. Australia replied softly. Thinking about how time, and time again even after making it through the most terrible of times, England still bounced back. He still carried on with life and took him out as a thanks for his help when it should be him taking England out for being well again. Despite his rough history, Australia could honestly say that in his personal opinions, England was one of the bravest, most courageous nations he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Not only had the man overcome foreign and domestic adversity but also adversaries within himself. Regardless of what his people did, he himself had overcome the lure of selfishness, the empty temptation of power and had faced up to his demons and what he had done wrong in life with a sincere wish to make amends and better himself.
"Nothin', mum. Just sort of realised that those lions are just like you..."
England looked at him quizzically.
"Well, it's my national animal but how are they like me?"
Australia looked at his mother earnestly and smiled.
"You're both Lionhearted..."
And that's it!~ As I said, I hope you all enjoyed it!
A/N:
The riots = one of the most disgraceful things I have ever seen in my life. Though I live in London, I was in Spain at the time and I was absolutely shocked, I couldn't believe that the London on the T.V. was the same London I left only around a week before. I can honestly say that I'm ashamed of the rioters and I condemn their days everything thing was complete chaos (even though the official span of the riots was the 6th-10th of August). They indeed showed the best and the worst of English people.
Also if anyone isn't sure about anything then please ask!
As always reviews are most welcome!~