A Bar Brawl.
America ran down the street with his jacket over his head. The weather's sudden turn into a down pour had surprised the American who had left his umbrella at home. Everyone around him held an umbrella as some as the first drop fell, clearly prepared for the country's eccentric weather.
He sighed as he turned into the closest bar, shaking the water from his hair. He paused and looked around when he heard loud laughter throughout the usually quiet English pub. He saw France in stitches in the back corner facing another man. His anger from earlier re-surfaced as he recognised the ginger mess of hair and blue uniform.
He stomped over to the table, determined to express his anger at the older country. France who could see America come in the door, paled. Scotland raised his eyebrow at the blonde's sudden change of mood. He looked over his shoulder to see the cause of France's distress. A hard glare returned to his face and he frowned as he saw the country walk towards them, clearly annoyed at the American's choice to come over instead of just leaving.
America stopped and stood over the two sitting nations, ignoring France and focusing his wrath at the green-eyes country. Scotland just snuffed out his cigarette bud.
France tried to smile. He and America had no feuds between them and occasionally got on quite well but Scotland was another matter. He had just spent the last 2 hours trying to cheer up the country, only to have America but in and mess up his plan.
"Ahh… Amerique! You are looking well!" America glanced at France and nodded.
"I'm doing fine. Unlike England!" He snapped, glaring at Scotland again who was steadily staring at the window. He looked back at the country when he raised his voice at him. His voice was annoyed when he spoke to America.
"And yer wannae say sumfing aboot it?"
"Yeah! I do! He's your brother!"
"Aye. And?" America's face turned red and he slammed his hands on the table. A huge crack appeared through the centre of the table. Scotland looked at the crack, mildly amused by America's strength but still a bit annoyed at him.
"You can't just go around beating up your brother! Heros shouldn't do that!" France was silent, watching the fight unfold. He knew Scotland was an experience fighting but America was ridiculously strong.
If this became a fight, both would be going home in an ambulance. He was tempted to call England to stop the fight even though he knew that the country would be in a poor state but it would be necessary if this continued.
Scotland got to his feet, looking down at the blonde country who was only a couple of cm shorter than himself.
"But what if I ain't the hero? What if I'm the villain?" He grinned suddenly, in that cold sadistic smile that Scotland used when he was being cruel. His tone became a mocking one as he looked down on the blonde country. "So what if I wanntae beat up ma wee bro?"
"I will stop you then." America stared confidently at him and Scotland was amused by the young country's guts and couldn't help but grin wider. "Aye? Is that right?" "Yes. It is." The glaring between the two countries, created a stand-off between them.
Scotland raised an eyebrow, curious to how much he could say before America became violent. 'Probably not a lot, judging by how red his face is.'
France used this silence to spoke up. "Why don't we take a zeat and have ze talk over a drink?" Both countries ignored him and continued the stare contest.
America broke the silence first. "Why?" He demanded angrily, completely different from the way he had asked earlier. Scotland smiled slightly.
"Becuse I can…" America snapped and threw a punch at the red head. It collided with his jaw. Scotland stumbled backwards in surprise at the sudden powerful punch. He stood up again, rubbing his jaw a little.
"If yer are gonnae fight, yer are gonnae have ta punch harder than that!" He sounded cocky, despite the mark on his face from the punch.
America fumed.
Scotland smirked, pushing farther for another reaction from America. "I donnae know what yer are so worked up aboot. The man's a gurnie and an erse! A worthless bassa!"
France sighed as he watched Scotland tease and provoke the teenage nation. 'Oh well… as long as Scotland doesn't become serious, this shouldn't be too bad… He will probably just dodge America's attacks and wait for the boy to tire out… We might be here a while though….'
America lashed out again but Scotland ducked out of the way from the obvious blow. He gave a light punch to America's cheek. America flinched from the blow. He wasn't used to being hit in the face.
"Where are you aiming?" Scotland laughed as he dodged another senseless punch.
America's punches were all emotion and no aim, easy to predict and dodge as long as the nation was too angry to think and Scotland was calm enough to think.
America paused to regain his breath while Scotland stood there, hardly fazed by the multiple blows which he had dodged.
He continued smirking cockily and looking down on the country, but his smile never reached his eyes. They still remained cold and harsh but did not show any anger to his surprise.
"Gubbed already? Onnae a bairn in the end. Yer erse is oot the windae if that's the best you can fight!" Scotland mocked him loudly; although America couldn't understand some of the words he knew that they were insults.
"Shut up!"
"A fussy, wee bairn too. Yer as bad as England!"
America yelled again. "Shut up!"
"Both boggin' wankas!"
"I said shut up!" Scotland flinched at the volume which America's screams had reached. "Stopping hitting England! Just cause you hate each other! Stop it! Just cause he loves me more!" (Angry people – especially men- say stupid things when angry. Very stupid things – that's why America seems so OOC here. Cause he is angry)
Scotland jolted visibly at this as if slapped. France groaned internally. He stared at Scotland, waiting for the words to sink in.
"Oh Amerique… Zat was a foolish thing to say…" He muttered to himself. He knew that Scotland would react badly to this and start throwing himself into the fight seriously. Once that happened, then he would be forced to call England.
Scotland's eyes change from his harsh, mocking eyes that could only look down on the blonde nation into something entirely different. They showed pure, uncensored loathing, completely different from his previous look which only look at the American as an annoyance. His eyes were like a wild animal's eyes, barely containing the rage that boiled silently in them.
America flinched at the sudden change in the eyes and the huge surge of negative and angry emotions that the Scot emitted through them. He gritted his teeth. He refused to cringe or run away, simply because Scotland was mad. He was a Hero! He has to stand up to bad guys.
He lunged forward again and to his surprise the green-eyed man didn't move. The punch hit his upper cheek but Scotland didn't react to it. He just glared at America, unmoving, no longer mocking or teasing, just furious. America retracted his fist and stared in surprise at the man.
"Huh?"
France stood up, deciding to take action before Scotland did.
"L'Ecosse! Amerique! Why don't we calm down and have us ze water. Maybe ze talk?"
A rage filled glance from Scotland silenced him quickly and France took a step back.
"Wheesht!" He sounded gruff like he needed water or had just woken up.
France cringed noticeably and he looked very worried or afraid. He pulled his attention back to the American.
America was more annoyed and angry with Scotland's new attitude than his old mocking one but he couldn't help but be confused and worried by Scotland's sudden change and France's worry at it.
"Why are you suddenly quiet dude? Did I touch a nerve?" America had taken advantage of the unresponsive nation's silence to insult Scotland back.
"Amerique!" France snapped, trying to get him to be quiet but America ignored him.
"Are you angry that I said Engalnd lov- !" His sentence was interrupted by a strong punch to the nose. America swung back on instinct and a blow hit the Scotsman on the jaw. Scotland grunted from pain. He readjusted his jaw, popping it back into place. America's counter had dislocated his jaw.
America was inhumanly strong, a lot stronger than Scotland. In a test of power, it would be an easy victory for the blonde. But this wasn't a test of power, it was a fight.
Scotland had something the young nation lacked and that was experience in one to one fights. While America just swung around his powerful fists, Scotland would try to dodge or hit weak points. He could easily avoid punches if he wasn't serious about the fight and didn't try to punch back but now that Scotland was fighting back, dodging would be a lot harder.
He was confident enough to dodge most punches of the blonde's punches but one of America's blows was like 20 normal punches. He had to be carefully to not get hit; it would take only a couple of punches to knock him down.
America rushed forward with a fist which Scotland ducked under, dealing a punch to the American's stomach. Scotland's punch was strong for a normal person but still a lot weaker than America's. He knew that he would have to punch America a lot before the country went down.
America's fist swung down but Scotland had already shifted his weight and dodged the fist. He was angry at the lack of hits he was getting in comparison to Scotland. Scotland had managed to hit him a couple of dozen times while he had only managed to get in 4 good hits.
Scotland was a good fighter and could take a punch but it was clear that America's blows were very dangerous to him. Scotland's punches may hurt a little but he could handle them.
The fight had only started 5 minutes ago and was mainly just swinging fists around. France was sitting in the corner on his phone, and appeared to be texting frantically.
One of America fist went wide, causing him to go off balance a little. Scotland stare this and took advantage of this, hooking his foot on the back of his knee, tipped the American over so he fell backwards. America fell against a table, which was crushed under his weight and was smashed in half. America was half standing now. America rubbed the back of his head. It felt sticky, hot and wet.
"Owww!..." His head was bleeding. "That was unfair!"
Scotland kicked America's knee again and he stumbled backwards.
"This is a bar brawl! This isnnae a fight or a war! There isnnae any rules!" Scotland yelled at him.
America straightened his back and attacked him again.
Scotland was fighting wildly now, not just punching but trying to take down the blonde completely. He tried to elbow, kick, knee, bite or anything to cause America pain.
His defence was weaker now, as his fighting became more vicious.
America managed to hit the ginger man in the ribs hard and felt a few cracking sounds under his knuckle as the ribs broke like pencils.
Scotland coughed violently as he flopped to the ground.
France looked startled and fearful for his friend.
The Scotsman however ignored the pain and broken bones and tackled America to the ground. The fight seemed more like wrestling now.
Scotland could not dodge many attacks on the floor but America had difficulties actually thrown any punches. Scotland was a good wrestler; he could easily stop all of America's movements. Strength means nothing when you are in a lock. But Scotland didn't want to just defeat America or win the fight; he wanted to hit the young country until he felt satisfied.
This meant that the fight was going to last longer and get more bloody though.
(A/N - Uhh... I'm a little bad at fight scenes so you will just have to imagine the punching, the blood, the angry grunting from men hitting each other repeatably and rolling around on the floor... Hehehehehe - dirty thought... *smacks self since I should be writing and not imagining these things* Sorry... Hetalia does that to me. *Wipes away nose bleed*
I can't be bother adding another translation table for this chapter. It has not a lot of writing and most of the words are obvious or were mentioned in the last one.
PLEASE REVIEW!)