Characters;
Erin 'Republic of Ireland' Kirkland
Victoria 'British Isles' Kirkland (Ma)
Sean 'North Ireland' Kirkland

Pairings; British Isles family

Summary; [From the Winter Angst with a happy ending prompts] The pipes in the character's house freeze and break and an unlikely person offers help.

AU; human, family fallout

Note; till=checkout


The heat hits Erin's face as soon as the doors open, and she's never been so grateful for a supermarket in all her life. She stomps off as much snow as she can in the doorway, but the mat is already damp, and snow is trekked a good six feet into the market at least.

Erin nearly slips on the cold wet floor, nose beginning to drip under her scarf, as she grabs a basket. There's not a lot of stuff she needs. Cigarette papers she can get at the till. Alcohol. Tea. Maybe a microwave hand warmer if she remembers to wander that far into the market. Oh, and water.

Dropping a couple of discount red wines, left over from Christmas even this far into January, into her basket, Erin heads towards the far-end of the drinks aisle she hasn't visited since she moved out of Ma's house (or rather, was essentially thrown out after a huge row). She simply hasn't needed juice boxes or brightly coloured, falsely fruity bottles. And she definitely hasn't needed to buy water when it comes out of the tap for goddamned free, why the fuck would she pay for it.

Well, if the water isn't coming out of her taps anymore, she sort of has to pay for water. The horrible cold seems to have snuck up on her, leaving her with undrained pipes full of water ready to freeze. And she's the only one in her rented house, her wonderful housemates having fucked off to spend Christmas with their families, lucky bastards.

Erin puts a pack of bottled water in her basket. Even this own-brand six-pack is two pounds more expensive than she usually pays for water. Which is nothing. Fuck frozen pipes.

She drags herself to the front of the shop again, box of tea on top of the bottled water, glittery hand warmer shoved down the side of the basket. An interesting combination.

Erin puts the basket down in front of the till-boy. "Pack of papers too, please."

"Erin?" the till-boy responds in shock.

Erin looks up at him, pulling her hat back out of her eyes. "Sean? Why are you here?"

"I work here," Sean gestures to his uniform, a faded and probably second-hand polo with the shop's logo on the breast and a pair of jeans, "Why are you here?"

"I needed alcohol."

"And water?"

"Don't fucking question me."

Sean raises a thick Kirkland eyebrow at her. "I just did."

"Yeah, well, fuck you. Just scan the shit and I'll fuck off, okay?"

"Someone's in a mood."

"I'm fucking cold, Sean! And I want my fucking alcohol already."

Sean puts the unscanned bottle of wine down, simply sending her The Look™ over the till. The Look™ was something Ma had nailed, able to make Erin and the rest of her siblings spill every misdeed they had ever committed in one teary, garbled apology. And now, apparently, despite looking nothing like Ma, Sean has perfected The Look™.

"My pipes have frozen," Erin sighs, "I've got no water, and I'm the only one in the house until next week. I want to be able to make my fucking tea."

"That wasn't hard, was it?" Sean says dryly.

"Fuck off. Just do your fucking job already, before I complain to your manager."

"Alright, alright! Am I not allowed to be concerned about my older sister's wellbeing?"

"You never fucking have been."

"Yes we have. You know damned well you could come home to visit."

"No I couldn't."

"Yes you could. You've only gotta apologise-"

"That's not fucking happening," Erin interrupts,

"Eire-"

"No."

"It wasn't-"

"No."

"If you-"

"No."

"Eire, please-"

"No. End of fucking story, get back to work."

The siblings stare at each other over the till, Erin ready to leap over the till and smack Sean senseless, Sean shrinking in defeat.

"Fine. But the offer's there."

"I don't give a shit."

"You stubborn arse."

"Should you be insulting your customers, Sean?"

Sean doesn't answer, turning the wine bottle over in his hands. He sweeps it over the scanner, the barcode facing completely the wrong way.

"It won't scan," he says plainly as he tries another couple of times, "Oh well." He puts it down in the baggage area, grabbing the next bottle.

That bottle doesn't scan either. Nor the tea. Nor the hand warmer. Nor the bottled water. Sean takes down a couple of packets of cigarette papers, a bag of tobacco, and a box of cigarettes. And again, they don't scan.

"Do you need help with your packing?" Sean asks sweetly.

"No," Erin stuffs the items into her shoulder bag, "Won't you get in trouble for this."

"My manager's on break right now. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"But won't it show up on the system. A bunch of stuff disappears, and none of it was scanned?"

"Stuff gets stolen all the time."

"Including the cigarettes from behind the till?" Erin attempts The Look™. It isn't as effective as Sean's.

"The system always bugs up in the new year, takes a little while to work again," Sean says, running a hand over the till, "Things fall through the system, it's normal. Quit worrying, would you?"

Erin sighs, throwing her bag back over her shoulder. "You don't need to this."

"It's hard enough living on your own. Now sod off before I call security."

Erin nods, leaving with an awkward, "Bye." Outside, she lights up one of the cigarettes, pulling her scarf down to smoke it. Inside, Sean reorganises the cigarettes he just allowed to be basically stolen, the lie still tight in his throat.


Sean will probably get disciplined if his manager realises he let someone 'steal' stuff

R.O.I is part of the British Isles, which encompasses R.O.I and the UK. But R.O.I is not part of Great Britain. Don't get them confused.