DAY 1

"Fuck…"

England's semi clear mind had comprehended that something was very wrong. If his mind was perfectly fine and not suffering from a hangover, he would have immediately yelled or screamed at the fact he was chained to his brother. His mind slowly caught up with reality.

"SCOTLAND!" He yelled as he pulled on the handcuffs. His brother didn't move.

Usually yelling would wake him up from his hangover or if he was just asleep. Maybe the red head wasn't simply asleep. He shook his brother, slowly at first then violently. He still refused to move.

"Hey! Scotland!"

Why wasn't his stupid brother waking up? How was he meant to get his cup of tea if he was attached to an unconscious Scotland? Another shock to his brain happened as he realised more things. It was not just tea that he was unable to make. If he was stuck here with the red head, he couldn't do anything. Nothing at all! He was basically trapped until Scotland woke up. He began shaking his brother again.

"Scotland!"

He yelled in his brother's ears and shook him violently enough that the scarlet haired man's head knocked off the floor a couple of times. He was beginning to worry. His brother wasn't a deep sleeper, this was definitely enough to wake him if he was okay.

"Hey?... Scotland?..."

God what was wrong with him? Was he okay? He was breathing. He had a pulse. He had blood in his hair…. Wait blood?

England lifted his brother's head and there was a large black blood stain beneath his head. The blood was old, dried and blackened, and the head injury was already closed up and healed. But it was still recent. Maybe yesterday or last night. He placed the head back down gently. He had to figure out a way to wake Scotland when he was knocked out like this.

England looked around desperately, his hangover blurring his vision. He saw a vase of roses and tried to reach out for them. The handcuffs were keeping him centimetres from his intended goal. He tugged harder on them and his finger brushed the glass.

"J-just a bit c-closer!" He pulled on Scotland's arm more and the Scotsman was dragged a little to the side. England was worried that it might open the wound again but waking Scotland came first. He wrapped his fingers around the cool glass and pulled the vase into his chest. He had to pause and remain still for a few moments while the world stopped spinning. He tipped the vase over Scotland's face. Water and roses poured out and splashed onto Scotland's face.

He spluttered and his eyes fluttered open quickly. He coughed sitting up and brushing the roses from his face, confused. He groaned and looked around. Seeing the English man close by, his eyes narrowed into a glare. England flinched at the look and tried to back away but the chain stopped him. Scotland looked at his wrist which was pulled by the handcuff. His eyes widened before narrowing again.

"Whit did ye do?" He hissed loudly, pulling on the handcuff roughly. England shrunk back and gripped his head.

"Ahhh!" Scotland's expression softened slightly until he smelt England's breathe.

"Yer hungova." It sounded like a question but was stated as a fact. England nodded with a winch, despite the fact Scotland didn't need an answer.

"GUD!" He yelled in England's ear.

"FUCKING BALLOCKS!" England cried out in pain from Scotland's voice and his own. He covered his ears and began muttering that he wanted to die over and over again. Scotland rolled his eyes and pulled on the hand cuffs so that only one of England's ears was covered. He wasn't going to hold up his arm just so his hang-overed little brother was spared the tortures of loud sounds.

He stood up but had to lean to the side because England, who he was attached to, was still crouching on the ground. He looked around. He couldn't see the key to the handcuffs close by.

He looked back down at England who was complaining and cursing and wishing to die quietly. He wanted to find the key quickly and since he couldn't remember how he had gotten into this mess, England was necessary to find it. But he was useless at the moment.

Scotland thought for a moment of how to get rid of England's awful hangover. He saw the door to the kitchen and got an idea. First though, he had to get England to the kitchen so he could 'work'.

Scotland scooped England up suddenly. England gasped and his eyes swirled dizzily. He was too nauseous to shout at Scotland for suddenly lifting him up without permission. He closed his eyes and began praying for God to make the world stop spinning for a bit though. Scotland carried him bridal style into the kitchen as that was the easiest way to hold him while handcuffed to him. He was tempted to plop England roughly in the kitchen chair but Scotland needed to move about the kitchen.

He sighed. England would just have to man up and walk beside him or collapse trying. He placed England on his feet. The blonde swayed dangerously so Scotland stilled him with his free hand.

"Donnae ye dare faint!" He threatened in a low voice.

England nodded and became still. He was soon balanced enough for Scotland to let go of him. England stood there scowling.

"What are you doing now?" He demanded weakly.

"Shut up and put this on, ye daff bassa." Scotland thrust a dish cloth into England's hands roughly.

"What?" England was honestly confused. Scotland yanked it back and placed it over England's eyes.

"Like this." Scotland tied a knot at the side of his head because that was the easiest place to reach with England's arm getting in the way. He tied it tighter that necessary and England yelped. He couldn't see anything now. He felt his wrist being pulled around as Scotland moved about the kitchen. He was dragged around blindly and harshly.

"What are you doing, Scotland?" He gasped.

"Curing ye. Now shut up!"

"Why am I blindfolded then?"

"Cause I donnae want ye ta ken me secret recipe. Now shut it!"

England obeyed him, simply because his worsening headache was getting to him. He let Scotland force him around the kitchen. He heard various noises like the blender, the fridge being open a lot, his cupboards being raided and chopping of something. He also heard Scotland swear once, probably when he closed the cupboard on one of his fingers. He also heard something being boiled on the stove. His wrist was being to hurt now. Since he couldn't follow Scotland with his eyes and walk close to him, the handcuff was always pulling on him.

His head ache was getting worse now and more than once he had begged for the noises to shuts up, only to be told off by Scotland.

After an hour he heard whatever Scotland was making be put onto a low simmer. He heard Scotland say something quietly in Gaelic. He felt the air hummed around him violently and a surge of power. He recognised the feeling as magic but his head simply pounded violently as the feeling washed over him.

He heard something being poured. He swayed a little again before being pulled forward.

"Open yer mooth." He ordered. England shook his head weakly.

"No… I flew… fell for that!… when France said that… but I 'm no… not going to fall for that a goat… again!…" He slurred slightly, having a hard time concentrating and forming words and sentences with his increasing migraine.

Scotland stopped, realising what France had probably done. (A/N – Who can guess what France did? Warning – It's dirty!) England heard Scotland mutter "I'm going to kill tha' French bassa afta this…." quietly to himself before speaking loudly to England again.

"I'm yer brother, ye erse." He shoved something warm and smooth and cup shaped into England's hand roughly. "Open yer mooth and drink this befoore I forced it doon yer throat meself!" He snapped angrily.

England took it and drank it obediently, out of fear. It tasted bitter-sweet like rhubarb dipped in sugar but other than that, he couldn't actually define the taste. When he felt the last of the liquid disappear down his throat, he paused in realisation.

His headache was completely gone. His body no longer felt slow and heavy and unwilling to co-operate. His pains suddenly seemed to vanish and he felt totally re-energised like after a good night sleep.

"Wow!..." He gasped. He could practically feel Scotland's smug smirk and gloating pride staring at him. "So was that your 'so-called' insta-cure?"

"Aye."

"That was amazing!"

"Aye. I ken. Now that yer no longer makin' last minute negotiations with God, where is tha bloody key?"

"Huh?"

"Tha key! Fer these blasted handcuffs! Do ye honestly think I want ta spend tha whole day tied to a bratty erse I'm foorced ta call me wee brother!" England paused a moment. "Weel?"

"I-I don't know."

"Whit?"

"Hang on. I'll just take off this dish cloth then we can look for it together."

"It's gonnae hav' ta be together! I'm chained ta ye!"

England ignored Scotland's last comment as he pushed the tight dishcloth off his eyes. The knot was too difficult to untangle. He gasped, but not in awe this time, but rather in shock and anger.

"MY KITCHEN! What the bloody hell did you do to my kitchen, you wanker?"

The kitchen was in shambles. His usually immaculate counter tops were covered in things like vegetable leftovers, egg shells, flour and spilled milk. There was half a head of cabbage balancing on the fridge door which was still open.

"Och. Aye. This tends ta happen when I make me cure… If tha cure had a side-effect it would be this - A hell of a mess in yer kitchen." England turned red in the face.

"SCOTLAND!"

"Donnae yell!… I just cured yer hangover so find tha key, let me go and then clean yer bloody kitchen!"

England fumed for a moment. He tried to cross his arms but Scotland yanked the chain down so he couldn't. The chain was only a foot long between them so it was awkward for either one of them to move their hands. England had to tolerate and keep his hand dangling at the side like Scotland.

England thought for a moment. His brother was physically stronger than him so forcing England to go where he want would be easy and in one or two ways, he was more intelligent. He was sly and a war strategist and apparently great with magic but other than that, Scotland was of average intelligence. England suddenly thought of something to say that would convince Scotland to help clean his kitchen.

"I'm not going to tell you where the key might be until this kitchen is clean."

"Fine. I'll just drag you aboot tha hoose until I find it then!"

"That could take hours! Plus I will resist! It would be quicker to clean the kitchen first." England reasoned. Scotland sighed huffily, muttering angrily under his breath.

He held out his hand, palm up and concentrated. Scotland was obviously still irritated with England and the handcuffs but he calmed down his emotions and stared blankly ahead of himself. He muttered something and his hand glowed a lime green. He turned his hand over so the palm faced the ground with his fingers spread.

"Scotland?..."

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing? Why di~"

Scotland made a 'Wsheesht' sound to silent him. England rarely saw his brother actually use magic, though he was told that he was good at it. He murmured something in Gaelic again. The green glow spread from his hand over the kitchen and things became sorting themselves. It was like watching a real life version of Fantasia. Within 20 minutes, the kitchen had magically cleaned itself.

England stared in wonder at it. Scotland had managed to perform magic without using a chalk circle or any kind of talisman at all.

His hand turned blue when the kitchen was cleaned. He held his hand up expectantly and frowned when nothing happened. He furrowed his brow but still nothing happened. He shook his hand, annoyed now and the blur glow dissipated.

"Tch! Fer some reason, summoning tha key isnnae working."

"Oh." So that was what Scotland was trying to do after the kitchen was done cleaning. He felt a mixture of smug, amazement, sympathy and disappointment. He felt smug because Scotland's spell hadn't work, amazed because Scotland could perform magic without circles, sympathy because his spell don't always work either and disappointment because now they had to manually search for the key.

Scotland sighed huffily, clearly angry that the summoning spell didn't work and slightly confused to why.

"Come on! Let's go find tha key befoore I saw oof yer hand!" England nodded.

The two searched the hallway, kitchen, living room, England's bedroom and the bathroom. After 4 hours, the two were ready to rip each other's arms off, just to escape each other's presence.

They had decided to try England's basement, where his magical things were kept. They rummaged among the magical stuff, the handcuff forcing them shoulder to shoulder while stopping them from looking properly. England's eye caught something silver and he used his free hand to wiggle it out from under a box.

It was a hand saw.

He held it up for Scotland to see and the older one grinned back. He handed the saw to Scotland as his right hand was occupied with the silver handcuff so he couldn't saw properly.

Scotland pulled on the chain so it was tight and began running it saw along the chain. He sawed for a few minutes, pressing hard on the chain and sawing quickly. When he removed the saw though, there wasn't a scratch on it though. England frowned. Scotland had definitely been sawing properly.

Scotland tried again but for 10 minutes. Still the chain didn't even have a mark on it.

"Cack!" Scotland swore in Gaelic. He threw the saw on the ground. He held his palm out again and it glowed again. Flames flickered and form around his hand. The fire licked along his skin but didn't burn him. He grabbed the middle of the chain and the heat flared. The flames soon disappeared and Scotland inspected the chain again.

England had been fascinated with the flames so wasn't paying attention to the chain for a while until Scotland swore again.

"Cack!" He threw his hands up angrily, pulling up one of England's arms too, painfully.

He looked stressed as nothing seemed to be breaking the bond that held them together. England was beginning to feel very stressed too. England tried to cut through the chain too but soon gave up as well.

He ruffled his free hand through his hair, angrily. Scotland crouched down on the ground again, facing away from England and began looking through another box, half-heartly.

He had obviously given up cutting the chain and decided to look for the key again. He had calmed down with the realisation of the chain being unbreakable and had resorted to quietly and moodily searching through boxes again. His arm was behind his back awkwardly because England was still standing behind him.

England could see the outlines of dozens of scars from that time long ago when he let Scotland be tortured. They were quite faded but still noticeable. They had disappeared a lot farther since the last time he had saw them. The time he had spent at the grave had probably increased the healing speed.

He saw the blacked stain in his hair again and the crusty blood frozen in a dried tickled down his back, over the scars. Seeing that calmed England down and reminded him to tell Scotland.

"Scotland?"

"Whit?"

"Doesn't your head hurt?"

"Whit? Nee! Why?" He demanded.

"You got old blood on the back of your head. You must have hit it." Scotland touched the back of his head. His hand came back with dark brown and black powdery blood. He rubbed it between his fingers.

"Och… Barry…" He muttered sarcastically. He stood up and dusted his hands off. "Since we cannae find tha key… let's go git washed and dress."

"What? How?"

"With tha usual stuff – soap, water etc." He walked out of the basement and England kept pace by his side.

England rolled his eyes. "No, I mean that we are handcuffed together. If we are going to have a bath or a shower, it will have to be together."

"Aye."

England blushed heavily. "B-but!~"

"We're brothers, ye ninny. I've seen ye naked befoore!"

"But that was when I was 5 years old!"

"I seen ye recently ta."

England turned a brighter shade of red. "What? When?"

"Yer a streaker when pished. It's oon tha internet ta, ye bassa!"

"What?" Scotland glanced at England who resembled a tomato. He smirked before laughing a bit.

"This isn't funny!" Scotland just laughed harder.

England tried to stamp his foot but was tugged along the hallway.

Scotland pulled him into the bathroom. England's bathroom was fairly big. It had a huge bath that could fit 3 or 4 people easily. It had an electric shower above it. Scotland grabbed towels from the cupboard, with England in tow. He threw the towels on the sink by the bath so they could use them on the way out and turned to shower on.

It was the afternoon now, about 3 o'clock.

He saw Scotland dig around in the back pocket of his jeans, the only bit of clothing he was wearing. He knew what Scotland was getting. Throughout his entire history, Scotland always carried a tiny leather book on his person. It was the size of a palm and had a brown cover. England had pinched it once to see why it was so important but it was completely blank when England read it. He had always been curious to why it was worth so much to Scotland and how it managed to stay in a perfect condition for so long.

Scotland placed it beside the shower and removed his jeans. England resigned himself to taking off his clothes, slowly and hesitantly. Scotland waited a while but when England was moving too slowly for his liking, he decided to 'help' him.

"Ah ah AHHH! What are you doing?" Scotland had begun forcing England out of his clothes. Scotland ripped England's shirt's sleeve off as that was the only way to remove it while wearing handcuffs.

"Scotland! That was a brand new shirt!"

"It was covered in vomit! If ye donnae wan' ta ruin yer new shirts, then donnae wear them when ye go oot drinkin'!"

The short blonde was bright red in the face as he stood there in the nude. He felt so self conscious. Scotland stepped into the hot shower, pulling England in behind him.

England was trying to stand as far as possible away from Scotland so the water only fell on his hand which was being pulled up to Scotland's neck because he was scrubbing the dried blood from his back.

The red head glanced behind him. He sighed and rolled his eyes. England was staring at the door, like he was thinking of trying to escape.

Seconds later though, the younger brother felt two strong hands on his shoulder, pulling him back, under the water. He was pushed against the wall where the shower head was, forcefully. He flinched as the cold ceramic tiles smashed heavily into his shoulder. He stood up straight, gripping his shoulder in pain. It was going to be really bad bruise later.

He was completely under the water now. He felt something cold and gooey being squeezed onto the top of his head. He shivered.

Suddenly rough fingers began scrubbing his scalp harshly. He yelped.

"Ah! Scotland! Ah! That's too har~ IT HURTS!"

"Shut up!" He felt the fingers press hard into his head.

"I can~ Ah!~ wash myself!"

"If ye could, why dinnae ye?" England felt like a child again.

"Ow! Stop treating me like a baby!"

"Wsheesht! Yer the one actin' like a wee bairne agen!"

England squirmed violently under his brother's tough scrubbing method on his poor head. When Scotland finally stopped, his scalp felt raw and red. Scotland grabbed the shower head from the wall and held it more over the blonde. He felt tears prick at his eyes and he sniffed as he felt the white suds slid off of his hair. He knew Scotland had been rough on purpose so that it hurt for England.

Scotland ran his fingers through England's hair very gently now, cleaning out the bubbles. He was being surprisingly soft and caring now, unlike his violent washing method earlier. The blonde sniffed loudly again.

"Ye crying?" England shook his head. Scotland huffed before giving a hard flick to the back of the blonde's hair.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Fer lying!" Scotland snapped back.

England sniffed again. The shower was making his sniffling worse than normal. Scotland let go of England's head after he had carefully removed all the shampoo and placed the shower head back in its stand.

England looked behind him to see Scotland rubbing shampoo into his own hair now. He was carefully with the back of his head. His finger delicately touched a small bump and he flinched. He had clearly found the source of the blood.

He scowled slightly before continuing to wash the rest of his hair. He pulled England out of the way of the hot water so he could step under the shower. The shampoo was soon out of his hair too.

He quickly washed the rest of his body with England's shower gel. He wrinkled his nose at it though.

"Ugh… It's ta fruity. Ye a wee lassie oor whit?" England scowled at Scotland but it looked funny with his heavy blush. Scotland tossed the shower gel at him.

"Hurry up. I wannae git oot." England cleaned himself swiftly, fearing his brother's wrath.

The red head clicked the switch for the shower and grabbed one of the towels from the sink. He wrapped it around his waist while England grabbed a towel and did the same. His cheeks were still a bright scarlet.

They both tried to dry themselves but it was hard as they both kept pulling on the chain. Finally they had managed to dry themselves.

Since Scotland only had jeans with him, he just changed back into his jeans again. England had pulled on a pair of dark green trousers. He had no idea how he was going to put on a shirt or jacket. He saw Scotland wearing the same jeans.

He swallowed once before doing the gentlemanly thing and offering his own clothes. Scotland snorted.

"Yer a wee, scrawny lad with tha figure of a wee lass." England flushed red again.

It was true though. England always was on the thin side. He was short and skinny and he hated being reminded of his lack of muscle or bulk.

Scotland, on the other hand, was tall. He wasn't quite as bulky as America and had a vague air of scrawniness like England but he still close to America and had notable muscles.

Actually, now that the blonde thought about it, the rest of his brothers were fairly slight as well, despite having defined muscles too. Maybe his family was just naturally thin?

The shower had taken far longer than expected. It was nearly five when they were done and dressed. England felt embarrassed just wearing trousers but with no way to put on a shirt, he resigned himself.

Both brothers felt hungry by now, having spent most of the day searching or trying to break the handcuffs. Hungry men are usually grumpy men. Of course when two brothers who fight often become hungry and can't escape each other, it is a lot, lot worse.

They fought over what to eat for an hour before finally settling for eating left over cold shepherd's pie from the fridge.

They searched hopelessly for the key again for another three hours. It was clear that it was not in the house by now. They decided grudgingly that they should go to sleep for now. They agreed to share the big guest bed. England change into his PJ bottoms while Scotland remained in his jeans.

They both tried to sleep as far as possible away from each other while facing opposite directions. Both of their arms were twisted back over their shoulder though because of the handcuff which was an uncomfortable position. Their pride stopped them from changing positions or doing anything about it though. Eventually they both fell asleep.

(A/N - LONG! Very long! Such a long chapter...

I blushed at some points in this. If you just read what England is saying and ignore what is actually happening - it sounds dirty. They are brothers, no incest! Honestly! ;,,,;

Can anyone guess what France did to England? And why Scotland is probably going to kill him?

Not all the chapters are going to be as long as this one hopefully.

6 more days of handcuffed fun! How long it will to write? Maybe a fortnight?

REVIEW PLEASE!)