I do not Own Hetalia
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The small cottage was warm and cozy to the two inhabitants. Neither of them minded the crashing waves from the stormy Loch a hundred yards from the building. It was silent too; both people were slouched in overstuffed armchairs in front of the glowing fireplace. A lanky man whose flame colored hair reflected the blaze before him, acid green eyes stared deep into a glass of cognac as if the slowly melting ice would answer all of his questions. The shot glass looked wildly out of place in the rustic setting. On one corner there was a tilted kitchenette with a crooked table nearby. Shoved into the opposite corner was a messy bed with the shelved headboard piled high with hundreds of little nick nack. Up a small ladder was a loft with housed another bed. IT was smaller but just as messy and meant for the small teenager hunched up in the other chair.
Her eyes were a bright blue and choppy blonde locks fell to her ears. She stared at the fire, ignoring both the thunderstorm outside and the man seated next to her. From somewhere, buried under impenetrable pile of books came a loud, very annoying beeping.
Neither moved until the beeping died away, then the man stood.
"Time fer bed lass." He nudged her ankle with his black boot, "Get going." Amelia offered no resistance, she stood slowly stretching out her cramped muscles before acening the ladder to the small loft space that had been allocated to her.
Scotland turned back to his drink, waiting for the human to finish getting ready for sleep.
"Are you going to bed or are you staying up for a few more hours?" He turned. Amelia was propped up on her elbow looking tired.
"Bed Ah Think."
The nation sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his boots. Several minutes later he climbed up the later and stared at Amelia.
"I'm forgetting something aren't I?" Her blue eyes opened and the American turned her face to his, "What am I forgetting Scotland?"
"Lass," he chided gently, "If the fates want you to know you'll know."
"It has to do with that tall blond man doesn't it?" Scotland paused in his decent down the ladder.
"Aye."
"And the one with the cross pin hairpin? Him too?"
"Aye. Look, if it's important then you'll remember it, alright?"
"It's important. Did you see that man, he looked like he was going to cry!" She wrung her hands together while Scotland shook his head.
"Goodnight Amelia." He said, growling with faux anger. Snapping his fingers the fairies taking refuge in the cottage that night doused the light of the fire but not the warmth or the fire itself.
" 'Night Scotty."
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A few nations over Denmark was sitting cross legged on his bed while working with numerous photographs. Each photo was carefully marked and dated and telling a brief of what had happened before, during and after the picture of taken. Every single one of them featured a little girl with blond hair and wide blue eyes. The man smiled fondly as he placed each photo in a protective sheath of his photo album.
"Denmark." Norway knocked only once on the door before barging in, "Come on downstairs. We have beer." On a normal basis the Dane would have been out of the door in a New York minutes, probably slinging Norway of his shoulder at the same time. But this was not the case. The Dane glanced up, face drawn from a photo of Amelia wearing one of his oversized bed shirts because she didn't like the wool night gown her had bought. Her small face was scrunched up in an adorable pout.
"She threw a pretty big fit over that nightgown thing."
"You got her into one at last though," Norway observed crossing the room and snapping the photograph from his lovers fingers.
"Yes, but she got a time out of the that temper tantrum." Denmark smiled, "But now she's back where she belongs. Alongside Scotland until she grows old and dies." The thought was obviously to much for his brain to handle because he flopped back on the pillows. "But it was pretty awesome being a dad."
Norway set the photo aside, "come down you idiot. We're all going to get drunk and you're going to tell us stories about Amelia. "
"Did you get Carlsburg?"
"Of course." Denmark unfolded himself from the bed to snatch a swift kiss from Norway.
"I love you."
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Turkey sat hunched over in his chair while watching Romania whisper sweet nothing in Bulgaria's ear. Russia had an equally sour look on his face while fondling an empty bottle of vodka.
"Brat, are you going to do the spell or what?"
Romania ceased kissing Bulgaria for a moment, "she just got home, do you really want to mess that up so quickly?'
"Da, comrade. Just cast your little spell."
Romania sighed before standing up and disappearing into a dark corner of the castle.
"I wish you wouldn't do things like this guys," Bulgaria sighed.
"Why should Scotland get the girl all to himself. Besides, she young. The little girl needs a tutor. I've got all the skill to turn her into a kick ass engineer."
"Da," both shivered as a cold wind emanated from him, "I need a friend too."
The Bulgarian shook his head, "This sounds like a really back fanfiction. One that doesn't get a lot of reviews even though the author works really hard. What?" He blanched at their judging faces, "There are other ways to make friends with someone guys. And ignore what I said earlier."
"OKAY!" Romania skidded back into the room, "She should be here any minute, clear the couch cause I'm not sure where she's going to land." Each nation backed away from the couches and stared.
Twenty minutes later they were still staring.
"Comrades, I not think she is coming."
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Amelia first became aware of the delicious warmth that enveloped her round body. Sweet sunlight streamed through a wide window and heated the thin sheet around her limbs to a sinful level. She moaned and rolled over, taking a deep breath of coffee scented air that inflated her lungs with delight.
Slowly her mind became aware of one glaringly obvious fact.
Scotland's cottage did not have a large window in which the sparse spring sun could shine through. It was big enough to escape in case of an emergency but no bigger.
The startled American sat up so quickly she nearly smacked heads with the man leaning over her.
"Hola!" He sang into her slack face, "what are you doing in my bed?"
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The storm had died down to a drizzle when Scotland woke up. He was used to waking up a good hour before Amelia so he was not worried when she didn't show when he began making breakfast. He was worried when he set two plate of steaming eggs on the table her tousled head did not appear above the loft to demand food.
"Amelia?' Climbing the ladder a sinking feeling asserted itself in his stomach, "Lass?" He swore. Her bed was empty.
"NOT AGAIN!"
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The man who introduced himself as Spain was very nice despite Amelia knee jerk reaction to punch him in the eye.
He was now sporting a very large bruise.
"I'm sorry." Amelia apologized for the umpteenth time.
"It's no problem," he laughed, "I probably shouldn't have been leaning over you like that," he continued to prepare their breakfast while she sat at the table. "So how did you end up in my bed?"
"You know…I'm not really sure. I think Romania might have had a hand in this but other than that I've got nothing."
"It's okay chica. I'll give you some food. Food can solve almost any problem!" The Spaniard danced around the kitchen gracefully, prompting a smile from his guest. "And then would you like to help me pick some tomatoes?"
Amelia gave a wide grin at the breakfast he set before her, "Why not?"
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