IDK what I'm doing I meant to have more of this done today but then I didn't and now I feel bad about myself...

Needless to say, there will be a part 3.

Enjoy! ;)

"Hey Wales. Have you heard from Scotland recently? He's not answering my calls."

"No, I'm sorry, surprisingly enough, I don't make it a habit to gas with him on a regular basis."

"You didn't have to elaborate. I got the point from the first three words."

Being drunk, was significantly better than being sober, Scotland had decided.

Being sober meant he had to think, he had to face the facts that he should return south and tell England calmly and maturely about what was bothering him, and then have an equally calm and mature conversation about their relationship. Being drunk meant he could forget it all, be irrational and immature, and crudely imagine that their relationship was less than happy, because then he had an actual reason to be angry, and not just the irrational fear that curled at his gut when he was sober.

"North, have you heard from Scotland?"

"Not for about a week, I've been meaning to call him actually. Why do you ask?"

"He's not answering his phone."

"I'm sure it's just out of battery or something."

"Of course, thank you, North."

You know what? Fuck England! Fuck him.

Fuck England and his fucking 'friends' whom he no doubt fucks behind his back. He didn't even care about Scotland, not from the way he acted half the fucking time, he was just another fuck-toy to him. Kiss a guy and tell him you fucking love him just to get in his pants. He didn't think so! He'd worked it all out now, it wasn't going to happen again, he knew better.

Haha! Fuck you England!

"France. Have you spoken to Scotland recently?"

"As a matter of fact I have. He said something about you actually, said he wanted to talk about your relationship or something, and then he called back and said it didn't matter and he was being stupid. That was almost four days ago though."

"What else did he say?"

"Nothing much, I'm not some kind of miracle worker you know, I can't gather you answers, I can only tell you what he told me."

"Yeah, whatever France."

Oh shit. He missed him already.

That fucking English piece of shit.

He wanted to hug him and kiss him and hold him and make love to him and hear his voice as it drifted through the wind of faerie's wings to his ears where it would trickle down his body and melt his heart and turn his legs to jelly so he'd fall head over heels where England was there to catch him.

Shit, his arms were so empty.

"Pick up the phone you northern bastard."

England smelled delicious.

He smelled warm and soft and all he wanted to do was bury his head in that scent and never let it leave his nose. He smelled like the past and the future and the present. Like open fields, and working machines. Like fragrant gardens and run-down offices. Like a bakery and a butchery.

Like mundane and like magic.

He just wanted to bury himself and never dig himself up.

England sighed, brushing Scotland's unkempt hair from his face, as he dozed drunkenly on his bed, which was blessedly located in Scotland's bungalow, meaning no stairs. In his current state of inebriation, England doubted he'd have made it even with America's help.

He frowned at his sleeping face, bags under his eyes, he hadn't been sleeping. And it had been a long while since he'd worked himself into such a tizzy that he felt the need to get this drunk. He'd hardly been conscious when England had arrived, and all he'd managed to say was what he thought might have been "Fuck you!" but honestly it could have been anything. What worried him most, though, was that whatever had happened to cause this had been so bad that he'd felt the need to run up north, and not even to his flat in Glasgow, but to his bungalow in Thurso, as far away from any of them as he could possibly get in his own country.

England bit his lip, standing and leaving to fetch something for the nasty hangover Scotland was sure to have tomorrow, which may not be the best situation for a conversation, but he'd be damned if Scotland was escaping this one. There may have been a lot of things left up in the air about Scotland right now, but if there was one thing that England did know with absolute certainty it was that they needed to talk.

And they needed to do it now.