A/N – Ok ok, this sucks. But the beginning is just kind of a conversation, BUT IF YOU READ FURTHER THERE IS SOME SCOTxENG, AND BROTHERLY CUTENESS. Or I think it's kinda cute. But maybe that's just me being big headed. I will try and do the continued conversation… honest. I hope you enjoy ^_^ any thoughts? C:
Arthur, from the moment his question seeped into the open cold air, regretted what he'd asked and feared what she'd say.
Eily, he'd learnt, his mother, seemed taken aback for a second, before she sat uneasily on the arm chair opposite the sofa that seated Peter and Arthur and refused to look him in the eye. Cailean immediately joined her side, putting a protective hand on her shoulder. Eily's gaze was fixed on the carpet in the living room, not even shifting to look at the Irish brother as he sat next to her.
Quiet bitterly flooded the room, even Allistor became slightly shifty after a while.
"I didn't want to," she said gently after the long pause, the silence hanging over the room holding claws, "We didn't want to leave you."
"W'were gonna come back fer ye," the Scotsman chimed in, his tone soft.
"But we couldn't, we had to leave," Eily finished for him, finally looking up to meet his stony green eyes with a hard cold stare. She sighed, Cailean making a soothing circular motion on her shoulder while he cautiously smiled at Arthur.
"Or he'd of chased us… mam was hurt enough already," Dylan piped up suddenly.
"I never meant to leave you behind, Artie."
"But then today, Scottie came home and told us that he'd met an Arthur Kirkland, and mam just broke down," Dylan, the Welshman sniffed from the side of the room, from where he'd stood to keep his mutual distance from the still snivelling youngest brother.
"Aye, w'knew it were ye, so I'adda talk t'ye about 't."
"And now we've found you again!" Peter chirped his new input brightly, even though his high squeak of a voice trembled a little from his choked back sobs he'd suffered previously. Arthur looked around the room, every pair of eyes was on him.
"But… what's going to happen to my – our, father?" he asked.
"That bastard?" Eily enquired, her tone suddenly venomously cold, "we already called the police."
"You did what?!" Arthur suddenly yelled, from shock. He wrenched himself from the gentle brotherly embrace from Peter, gaining strength from nowhere as he sprung to his feet. Now she'd said that, he couldn't think of any place he'd rather be than home.
"W' weren't 'avin' 'im beatin' our bruther," Allistor informed him, his own Scottish toned voice metallic and steely.
"Can I go home?" Arthur asked quietly, feeling his blood run cold in surprise. Surely… calling the police was too far, even though he had been… beaten. The Brit swallowed hard, but Eily just laughed, her laugh a joyous high pitched chuckle that resembled the ringing of bells.
"You are home!"
"Plus it's late," Dylan concluded. The blonde snorted and collapsed back onto the sofa, almost flattening Peter but no one seemed to mind so much.
"How late?" The Welshman looked down at his wristwatch absentmindedly.
"3 AM."
The sound that emerged from Arthur's mouth couldn't have been humanly possible, in any other circumstance, and probably made every single dog in the neighbourhood stand to alert. So not only was his… their, father probably going to prison, and he'd found his long lost brothers, but they'd kept him up at their house until a dangerous time of the morning… when he got home his father would skin him alive.
But then of course, he might not be there. The Brit shivered uneasily thinking about all the possibilities.
"I think that means he's tired, mam," Dylan laughed.
"We're not done talking about this!" she scoffed, but Allistor had already stood to grab a hold of Arthur's arm. He turned to her and grinned. She met his eyes with a scornful frown that showed she wasn't up for an argument; and she obviously wanted to talk more about it. The Scotsman, however, took on her frown with a hint of his own casual challenge, while pulling Arthur up to stand beside him.
"W'can talk mor' in th' mornin'."
Arthur slipped into Allistor's spare night clothes; they were a little baggy; especially because of his slim build. On his way out of the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. At first, he hardly recognised himself. He stepped closer, examining the boy who looked back at his. His eyes were blood shot, the deep ocean of green clouded with regret – but at the same time a light, beautiful tint of hope. His hair that was usually uniformly slick was scraggily hanging over his face and into his eyes carelessly, and his face… his face was ghostly pale with greatly contrasting black circles under his eyes. He didn't look like himself at all, but then he didn't really feel like himself either. He sighed, backing out of the bathroom and flicking off the light as he padded into Allistor's bedroom across the hall. He found his brother covered in his own night nightclothes, they were a much better fit on him – and he was already soundly asleep under the covers. Arthur nudged him lightly, and Allistor snuffled softly but shuffled across the single bed to make room for him, his eyes remained shut the whole time. The Brit climbed into the bed, pulling the covers back up and wrapping his arms around himself, pulling his own bony figure into his chest. He heard a content sigh escape the other, as he turned in bed to meet his eyes.
"She never did answer my question," Arthur wondered aloud, half to himself as he wriggled to get comfortable next to the Scotsman.
"Hm?" Allistor cracked open an eye to look at him quizzically. The whole drama of the day hadn't seemed to get to him.
"You know what I bloody mean." The Scot didn't answer at first, just made a few grumbling noises as he pondered his own answer.
"I tried t'find ye," Allistor answered eventually, "We all did." Arthur just lay rigidly by his side, as if awaiting more of an answer. Crying was again a distant possibility for the Brit.
"Where did you go?" Arthur felt his voice crack, fighting the rough burn of tears that triggered the sudden urge for hot tears to start rolling down his pale face once again. "I can't even remember you!"
Allistor also stiffened now, sensing the broken voice of his younger brother, before he sighed and wrapped his arms around the bony frame that belonged to Arthur, pulling his back to his chest. Arthur did nothing to escape the hold, just let himself finally cry some more.
"Cailean 'n, me, w'went up the Scawtish highlands, every day, lookin' fer ye, hopin' ye might b'there."
"I remember being there when I was a child… with you?"
"Aye, lookin' n' findin' Nessie. I looked fer her again too, but she nev'r showed either, just like ye, til no'."
"Cheese on the mountains…"
Arthur struggled hopelessly to get an arm free to wipe some of the weak tears leaking from his screwed closed eyes, remembering the time he'd been in Scotland. That was something he had remembered; but the person he'd been there with was all blurred and jumbled in his memory. Sometimes he'd thought that he'd actually made up the memories to convince himself he wasn't completely on his own.
…But then something worse dawned into his mind, no matter how hard he tried to chase it away with the thoughts of his imprisoned father, his new found brothers, or the fact he was crying in bed with a Scottish boy…
"Don't we have school tomorrow?"
School was the last thing he needed at a time like this, and facing Abby.
"Aw, naw," Allistor chuckled, "I oughta speak t'Abby tho'… oh 'n…w'ave a DNA test soon…"
"Doesn't your… our mother have something to say about that?" the Brit twisted in the comforting hold his brother had one him, meeting the taller's eyes with his own. Allistor's eyes were soft and warm, but they held an icy hue at the same time.
"She's th' one who arranged it."
"Oh… sorry," the Brit mumbled sleepily. So is there now a possibility that they weren't brothers? But they'd all been so sure. Arthur almost spoke up, but found his body being consumed by fatigue and the warmth from his… maybe- brother was weighing him sleepily into the mattress. Allistor took this as a hint, and kissed his forehead lightly, in a very un-Allistor like manor, before shutting his own eyes.
"Allistor… don't leave me again…"
"W' won't, w'need ye."
"You need me?" Arthur sounded briefly shocked. Allistor continued, pretending he hadn't heard.
"Tha's wit families d', the' stay t'gether."
"Fuck!"
There was suddenly a loud crash from downstairs, the sickening crunch of the front door being forced open and a heavy smashing of glass. In the very same moment, there were thick heavily accented screams of Gaelic being reeled off in a furious snarl, and echoes of a slurred drunken deep British voice. Bedroom doors flew open all along the hall, each brother springing from their beds, including Arthur and Allistor to bolt to the stairs to see who… or what was going on.
Cailean, catching sight of who immediately bounded down the stairs to stand an aggressive posture of protection over Eily, the Welsh brother closely following, hot on his heels down the steps. Allistor however was too fast for the Brit, blocking off all his vision and encasing him in his own brotherly embrace. It was someone he didn't need to see, and who didn't need to see him.
"Give me my Arthur back!" the screech echoed sinisterly, the voice eerily weaving patterns through the Brit's mind…
"But you said you'd called the police!"
So how could he be here?
(Really bad) Scottish translations –
W'were gonna come back fer ye – We were going to come back for you.
Aye, w'knew it were ye, so I'adda talk t'ye about 't. – Yeah, we knew it was you, so I had to talk to you about it.
W' weren't 'avin' 'im beatin' our bruther. - We weren't having him beating our brother.
W'can talk mor' in th' mornin'. – We can talk more in the morning.
I tried t'find ye. – I tried to find you.
Cailean 'n, me, w'went up the Scawtish highlands, every day, lookin' fer ye, hopin' ye might b'there. – Cailean and me, we went up to the Scottish Highlands every day, looking for you, hoping you might be there.
Aye, lookin' n' findin' Nessie. I looked fer her again too, but she nev'r showed either, just like ye, til no'. – Yeah, looking and finding Nessie. I looked for her again too, but she never showed either, just like you until now.
Aw, naw, I oughta speak t'Abby tho'… oh 'n…w'ave a DNA test soon… - Oh, no, I ought to speak to Abby though.
She's th' one who arranged it. – She's the one who arranged it.
W' won't, w'need ye. – We won't, we need you.
Tha's wit families d', the' stay t'gether. – That's what families do, they stay together.