How do you fix a red haired Scotsman? With a metal pipe, of course.
He had messed with her head.
Scotland knew that he might have gone too far at some point but he didn't really care. He didn't take kindly to being threatened and he took it even less well when one of his few true friends was threatened.
He followed his nose carefully.
He mainly followed France's very familiar scent – sex, fresh bread, heavy rose perfume and other processed smells – though his natural smell was mainly lilies, which Scotland preferred. He didn't really understand why France wore perfumes and used scented soaps and oils when he had such an appealing aroma to start off with.
He could also smell the less familiar Russia with vodka, sunflower, snow and blood mingled with France's.
Eventually he caught up to them in another alley.
It was easy.
This was his capital after all.
However it wasn't a pleasant situation….
Russia had his pipe raised to slam into France's head. The edges of the alley had cracked bricks, dents and chunks missing showing that Russia had been swinging around his pipe a lot with a powerful full force.
It seemed France had been nimble and smart enough to dodge the blows so far but his luck had run out. He was trapped between a bin, a wall and Russia with his pipe. There was no way to escape the next hit. He was dead once that pipe smacks his skull.
Russia smiled slightly, swinging the pipe at the blonde's head.
It was stopped mid-swing by a hand.
Francis stared in relief at his old friend.
"L'Ecosse!"
Scotland pulled on the pipe so it was slightly farther away from the Frenchman's face.
He wasn't strong enough to remove it from Russia's grip though.
The Russian had the same strength as America. To be honest, he doubted he could beat Russia without getting soundly thumped himself or losing.
"Can ye lower tha pipe?"
Russia looked at him in surprise. He hadn't really expected the red head to suddenly appear. He looked away guiltily.
France took the opportunity to shoot from the wall to Scotland. Russia lowered the pipe slightly before stabbing it past to Scotland's head at France.
His eyes widened as Scotland had somehow moved the blonde out of harm's way again. He gave a small frown before smiling widely.
"Please move, my dear red head."
"Nae."
Russia tilted his head to the side. "Why? Do you not wish to become one with Russia?"
"Please leave." He asked in a quiet voice that did not seem meek or weak in any way whatsoever.
Though he said 'please', as habit from years of England forcing manners and 'gentleman-ness' on him, he did not sound very polite when he said it.
Russia blinked in surprise. "Leave?"
"Aye. I dinnae mind being polite tae visitors, even if they try tae carry meh off, trespass in private bits of meh hoose or endanger me but I draw tha line at threatening me friend's lives."
Russia tilted his head to the side as if confused. "Why? My little snow bunny is happy with me. You can be too."
France spoke in a shaking voice, while peeking his head over Scotland's tall shoulder. "D-doesn't Le Prusse live his f-frère?"
Russia stared scarily at France with a wide, tight smile. He didn't like being contradicted, even if it was true. France gulp and his voice came out as a whisper as he continued.
"Maybe L'Ecosse is happier with his frère too?"
'Kolkolkolkol~' A thick, shadowy violet mist appeared over Russia.
"Ack!" France ducked back behind his red haired pet as the dark purple aura began to flood the alley.
Russia thought violent thoughts at the French man. How dare that pervy blonde use his adorable crimson fox as a shield? Why does his pet continue insisting that they were friends when it was clear that the Frog was not good enough?
France quivered. He was regretting provoking Russia now, though he was just pointing out the truth. Russia twisted the pipe in one hand.
"Ah… I see… My red head is confused." He watched the Scots man intensely. "Maybe if I hit some sense into him, he will feel better, da. I will fix my red head with my metal pipe. Then we can get rid of that annoyance and leave for Russia."
He gestured at France before lifting the pipe.
The pipe swung in a sweeping circle.
The two ducked as the pipe cracked into the wall. It echoed ominously through the alley way. It lodged itself deeply in the brick work.
Russia pulled at the pipe with one hand. It wobbled but remained still. He gripped it with two hands and tugged it out. It came out of the wall, crumbling the surrounding bricks. He was still smiling though.
The tall man quickly swung the pipe again.
This time Scotland tried to catch it. The pipe slammed into his palm and a sickening crunch sounded out. The red head gritted his teeth from the pain and gripped the metal pole tight with both hands.
He tugged hard leaning back with all his weight.
Russia swung the pipe to the side and France watched in shock as his friend was dragged forward.
The Russian forced the pipe and red head back into the stone wall.
Scotland's eyes widened and he gasped slightly as he felt agony burst into his back. His head collided with the wall as well, temporarily shocking his body.
He released the pipe out of a natural bodily response.
His body was still recovering from the large blow to his back so his legs were weak. He slumped to the ground, his head lulling slightly at first as if he had lost consciousness. He quickly lifted his face to glare at Russia with bared teeth.
The beige haired man reached forward with a gloved hand to grab him when a body blocked him.
France stood between the two defensively and facing Russia. Despite sometimes being a coward, France could be very brave and strong when he wanted to, when he had something to protect or achieve.
"L'Ecosse! Are you okay?" His first priority was Scotland's well-being.
"Aye." He muttered back, shifting and testing his body to see if anything important was broken.
France shifted his entire focus to Russia now. His second priority was stopping Russia from taking his best friend.
The taller man was glaring with a wide, tense smile, oozing a purple aura. That filthy blonde was in his way again!
France didn't back away though. Russia tightened his grip on the pipe which the blonde watched warily, ready to defend him and Scotland from it.
Russia's lips twitched as he swung the back of his hand across the French man's face.
The blonde had been so focused on the pipe that he hadn't seen the back hand coming. He staggered from the power of the surprise blow.
Russia raised his pipe again above his head. It came down at a high force.
Scotland suddenly appeared in front of the blonde with his arms in a X. The pipe slammed into them and Scotland crouched to absorb some of the blow.
Russia blinked, surprised again by the red head's sudden appearance again.
He wasn't prepared for Scotland to suddenly extend his legs and push forward, using the momentum to push the taller man off balance backwards.
The Russian moved his arms out to the side for balance, leaving his chest and head open. The Scotsman didn't aim for those areas though.
He suddenly kicked the beige haired man's left knee hard, forcing him off balance more.
Your legs are yer weak points. If I were ta end up in a fight with ye, I would aim fer the knees and trip ye up.
His eyes widened as he realised that Scotland was aiming for the weak points he had listed a few days ago. The man aimed for his legs again and the Russian was so close to toppling.
The red head threw his hands into the taller man's chest to push him over the edge. The Russian flew backwards, grabbing Scotland's arm. The two fell to the ground.
Ya have a lot of build up power but yer fighting style probably requires a lot of movement. Ye wonnae be able to fight once doon.
Russia's pipe skidded from his hand when Scotland's wallet and phone fell from his pocket. All the items landed reasonably far away from the two nations on the ground.
Scotland was right about Russia being unable to fight on the ground, so instead he was holding the red head down so neither could fight.
France leaped forward to aid his friend. He grabbed Scotland's arm and tried to pull him from Russia's grip.
The beige hair man was pinning Scotland and his arms to his chest and squeezing him hard. It appeared like he was trying to press the air from his body so that he eventually collapses.
The Scotsman was kicking violently, trying to free himself before that happened.
A stray kick sent France backwards and away from the fight again. Scotland's foot did not hit him hard but it had caught him at an awkward angle, making him stumble back.
He landed on his bum gently.
Quiet electric bagpipes distracted him.
He saw Scotland's phone buzzing beside his foot.
He picked it up and held it to his ear frantically.
"Angleterre! Help him!"
(A/N – The title is weird and only refers to one line. I was lazy and I'm sick!
I still feel that I am bad at fight scenes so just imagine everything.
France is exceptionally good at pissing Russia off. However, he wants to protect Scotland with all his might. Though Scotland and France don't always seem that close, the truth is that they are closer than brothers and lovers.
They were exclusive boyfriends a few times in the past; the longest time being about 5 decades. Even today, they are usually friends with benefits unless one has a girlfriend or a lover. They still sometimes share an exclusive relationship for a few weeks or months.
They are a cute, very close couple, though they sometimes seem so different.
Review please! They make me feel better and healthier.)
