DAY 3

The day began badly for both of them.

They had to get the fairies to sew up the sleeves of any shirt or jacket they were wearing that day, just so they could wear them. The process itself took an hour and a half so both were moody and impatient.

They had argued what to eat for breakfast, Scotland then had his cigarettes binned in revenge and it ended in a physical fight. They had wrestled on the ground for a few minutes before Flying Mint Rabbit stopped it. By that time though, Scotland had lost his appetite with a punch to his stomach and England had a black eye and bad bruise on his cheek and rips.

The two ended up sulking silently in front of the TV again. The fae had promised to widen their search to Scotland, Wales and the north of France. The two British nations decided to go ask France, America and China in the afternoon, in hope of discovering the key's location or how they got into this situation.

In the morning though, they watched a couple of movies and the tension between the two grew as they silently brooded. Both nations kept their emotions bottled up as they waited for the afternoon to arrive.

At lunch, the phone rang and Scotland glanced at it as England answered it.

"Oh America. Hello." Scotland suddenly glared at the phone.

In America...

America was on the other end of the line. He was grinning goofily as he talked with his friend. He wanted the shorter blonde to watch a horror movie with him tonight.

"So how are you dude?"

The English man's voice came over the phone. "I'm doing okay. I apologise for drinking so much the other night…"

America laughed a little. "No prob, dude! I'm used to it!" He heard the Briton mumble another apology and grinned.

"I told ya, it's totally fine. So England, do you want to stay over at my house tonight?"

"Actually, I ~ AHHH! Wait! Stop! Wha~!" He heard some struggling before someone else's voice came over the phone.

"Nee. I donnae think he will."

"Huh?"

"England is a tad busy tanight with me." America lost his smile, and he frowned into the phone.

"Who is this?" He asked coldly.

"Hmmm… His aulder brother…" America stopped and glared into the phone.

"Who?"

"Scotland, ye ninny. I'm sorry but me wee broth is ta busy with meh ta come over tanight." He heard more struggling over the voice and England trying to yell but being muffled.

"Hey! What are you doing with England?" He yelled into the phone.

"Sorry but I donnae like ye so I'm hangin' up. Anything ye wannae say first, Iggy?"

"You bloody wan~!" The phone was hung up abruptly.

America stood up, dropping the phone and grabbing his trusty bomber jacket. He took out his mobile.

"Hello? I want one first class ticket to London. When is the next flight? In two hours! I'll take it!" He hung up his phone and rushed to the door, determined to get to England as quickly as he could.

Back in England's house...

England was trying to grab the phone out of Scotland's hand.

"Dammit! Why are your arms so fucking long?" Scotland laughed, holding onto England's waist so he couldn't stand up and reach the phone. It was interesting how it came to this.

Scotland's glare had hardened when England began apologising over the phone. When he heard America invite England over for the night, he had lost his temper.

He had spent the entire day suppressing his annoyance and anger and he wanted to let it out on something or someone. And since America was just conveniently on the phone, why waste the opportunity? First though, he had to get England off the phone.

Luckily they were handcuffed together so he couldn't escape or run away. England was half way through his answer when Scotland wrapped his arms around England's thin waist. He hauled England up and onto his lap, so that the English man sat on it like a child. England had shouted out in surprise.

Scotland smirked. That would freak America out.

He had grabbed the phone from his hand. He had held England's free hand in his handcuffed hand so he was immobile. England had struggled to grab the phone but his only free hand was trapped by Scotland's hand and his other hand was stuck in the hand cuff and he couldn't move it much.

Scotland had talked to America over the phone. Whenever England had tried to talk, he would find his mouth covered so he sounded muffled.

America had sounded freaked out over the phone. Finally Scotland let England speak, only to hang up half way through his sentence.

England was desperate to phone America back and calm him down but he was trapped on top of Scotland. His brother tossed the phone gently so it landed on the floor behind the sofa. England was stuck, straddling Scotland with his waist tied down by the red head's arms.

"Scotland! You fucking git! Let me go!" Scotland sighed.

"Nee and mind yer coorse language. Fucking brat…."

"Why did you do that?" He demanded. Scotland shrugged. England squirmed and struggled more.

He froze when he felt Scotland's head lean against the back of his neck. The red head's breath tickled the tiny blonde hairs on the back of his neck. He blushed slightly. Scotland sounded tired, despite giving an order.

"Stay still." England stayed still. He listened to Scotland breathing, it sounded like he was asleep or nearly asleep. He remembered when he woke that Scotland had bags under his eyes and as far away from England as possible like he had been up a while.

"Are you tired? Did you not sleep well last night?"

"Aye, Nee. I'm tired but I had a gud night sleep."

"Why are you tired then?"

"Hmmm… Used ta much magic."

"Magic? What were you using magic for?"

"Ta talk ta Wales and a couple of magical creatures… in their dreams…"

"You can do that?"

"Aye… It's easy but tha fuckin' handcuffs made it hard ta so I had ta use alotta magic…" England nodded, showing the he understood. He didn't know that Scotland used magic so often. He guessed that if the hand cuffs weren't here, he would use a lot more.

"Why you just go to sleep now?"

"Hmmm…" Scotland just hummed an answer and tightened his grip around England. His brother was acting almost nice…

England sighed quietly. He felt the pressure disappear from the back of his neck. A hand gently ruffled his hair messily.

"Ger oof. We're gonnae go ta France and phone China." England pouted.

"Why do we have to go see that stupid Frog face? That damn git can't help us!" Scotland flicked the back of England's ear. "OW!" He rubbed it.

"France is meh best friend, need I remind ye." England grumbled.

"I don't see how or why…" Scotland smirked.

"Cause it annoys ya so we both like it. Now git up!" England stood up, followed by Scotland. The red head stretched. "Gawd. I'm gettin' auld."

England reached for the car keys. Scotland suddenly snatched England's car keys.

"I'm driving."

"Wait! What? You can't drive my car!"

"Oh but I hafta." Scotland grinned as he yanked the keys from England's reach. "Ye cannae drive cause yer on tha left and tha driver's seat is on tha right."

England glared as Scotland smirked sadistically. He was suddenly taking back the thought that Scotland could be nice.

Scotland wasn't a bad driver. He rarely speeded or got into trouble with the road police. He had very few car crashes or accidents on his record. England would rather have Scotland drive over North Ireland or Ireland, who were reckless and dangerous drivers to the point of it being suicide to let them drive. However, Scotland liked tormenting England, even in the slightest way so one reckless joy ride to Paris later…

"Fuck Scotland! I think I left my stomach back in London!" The redhead smirked widely.

"Yer green." England did a pale green tint to his face, like he was about to be motion sick.

"You did that on purpose! You bastard!"

"Aye but I dinnae think ye would be this dour. Come on ye wee lassie." They exited the car on Scotland's side.

The exterior of France's house was huge, extravagant, over decorative and very gaudy. England cringed at it, while Scotland just dragged him up to the front door. The redhead took a gold key from under a random flower pot by the oversized door. He inserted it in the lock and turned it until it clicked. The door swung open.

"France! Ger yer French ass oot here! I need alcohol, cigarettes and cake! In tha' order." He shouted into the house. France rushed into the hallway and paled when he saw the two brothers.

He looked relieved though when he saw Scotland was grinning friendlily at him. England glared at him coldly, like he was trying to kill the French man with a deadly stare alone. France, however seemed more stressed or worried for some reason but smiled tensely anyway.

"Oh! L'Ecosse! How nice of tu to drop in. Angleterre… How un-nice of tu to drop in…"

"Shut it Frogface! I'm not here by choice!" He snapped.

"Aye." He held up the handcuffed arm and France twitched before forcing out a laugh.

"Ohonhonhonhon! Tu have a short angry blonde on ton charm bracelet, mon cher."

"We're the same height, you wanker!" Scotland smirked.

"Aye and he'll be joined by another blonde ta unless I git meh whiskey." France nodded, grinning, finally relaxing when he was sure that any danger was over.

"Oui! Of course, mon cher!" Scotland followed France into the kitchen. "I just finished a fabulous Gateau à la fraise!"

"Two slices then."

"Oui!" France and Scotland sat at the table.

England still couldn't believe these two were such good friends. They were complete opposites in most ways. They exchanged a couple of jokes, wine and whiskey, comments and cigarettes between the two of them, ignoring the scowling Englishman. He felt tense, while behind the 'enemy lines'.

He watched France cautiously as he cut three slices of the delicious looking strawberry cake. He placed each slice on a plate he slid two slices over to Scotland and kept on to himself. Scotland began eating the cake greedily.

England reached for the second one, only to have his hand whacked by the small metal spoon that Scotland was using to eat. England tried again. The spoon whacked him harder.

"Ow."

"Git yer own cake!... or yer own French friend who canne bake ye one."

"There are two slices."

"Oui. Deux pour L'Ecosse." England glared at his brother as he ate both of the slices.

Damn him and his stupid sweet tooth… I hope all his teeth rot and fall out… England thought bitter and angry thoughts.

Eventually the two happily conversing countries got around to the important matter of why the two British nations were here.

"So Francis, I'm a wondering whit tha hell happened two nights aga with meh wee broth?" France leaned backwards slightly, like he was thinking. England noticed a small bead of sweat on his brow like he was nervous.

"Euh. I remember Angleterre drinking a lot. America, China and I left after he threw up." Scotland looked sceptically at him.

"So whit really happened?"

"Ohonhonhon. L'Ecosse, tu know me well."

"Ta weel. Now spill."

"Fine. Thiz is ze truth. I took Angleterre back to hiz home and tried to rape him." He said with a shrug.

"WHAT?" They both ignored England's outburst. He was bright red in the face and shaking with anger.

"Then whut?"

"Tu zhowed up and zent me home."

"Nae befoore hitting ye, right?"

"Once in ze stomach. Quite hard but it waz nice to zee ze passionate zide of tu." France said the last part suggestively. Scotland laughed loudly and France joined in.

"Ye deserved it. Ye fuckin' masochist." He said in a kidding voice.

"Ze sadist. I am ze sadist like tu. We go well together, non?" Corrected France as he shuffled closer to Scotland.

"Aye. Of coorse." Scotland said dismissively.

England felt like hitting his head off the table repeatedly. Not only was he nearly raped by France the other night but now the blonde was hitting on his brother who had stopped him, right in front of England. Scotland seemed to be ignoring his advancements though but there was no doubt that he had noticed them.

"Do ye ken aboot tha handcuffs."

"Non. I thought zat zis waz the rezults of ze zexual games." France joked. Scotland rolled his eyes.

"Seriously France."

"Ze anzwer iz non. I left after tu hit me."

"Hmmm…" Scotland looked thoughtful before standing up.

"Cheers mate. When I git this oaf oof meh arm, lets meet up fer a dram."

"Oui. It'z a date."

"Aye but donnae call it tha'." France began stroking Scotland's arm gently.

"Oui. Tu know, it'z tres sexy to have a trois-some with ze handcuffs."

"No!" England cried out without thinking. The other two nations turned to him, suddenly remembering that he was there. Scotland took this chance to remove his arm from France's grip.

"Nee and we're gahing." France pouted as Scotland walked away with England trying to speed him up, so they could leave faster.

A lot later back at England's house, England was trying to phone China when the doorbell rang. Scotland ignored it while England put the phone down.

"Get up Scotland. Please. I need to answer the door." The blonde remembered his manners. Scotland sighed huffily. He was impatient to get out of these handcuffs. He wanted his personal space and freedom back so he could smoke and drink freely again. He stood up and went with England to the door.

The red head opened the door and it was easier for him to do it. He had only just opened the door when a fist flew out and smashed into his nose, right between the eyes.

"Fuck!..." The world blurred before fading to white then black. He woke less than a minute later, facing the ceiling. He had dragged England down with him by accident. America was looking down on his angrily. Oh right! He had forgotten that America had called earlier….

He was regretting that now…

England looked like he was regretting it as well. He had forgotten to call America back. Scotland jumped to his feet again.

"Whit was tha' fer, ye ass!" He knew why, he had implied that he was forcing England to sleep with him tonight earlier over the phone.

"I'm saving England! Like a real hero!"

"From whut, ye twat!"

"You, Dude! You have been spending too much time with France! Come on England! Let's get away from here!"

"You stupid wanker!" England had only just stood up. He wasn't used to getting up quickly after a blow or being dragged down. "I can't!"

"Yes you can!"

"Nee! He cannae!"

"Be quiet. England is not your punching bag!"

"But I really can't, America!"

"Yes you can! You don't have to listen to this 'Porridge Wog'!" Scotland grabbed America by the collar of his bomber jacket and pulled up. He couldn't lift the American off the floor, with England holding down one of his arms but he managed to get him on his tiptoes.

"Whit did ye say, ye fucking yankee!"

"Scotland!" England snapped in a warning voice. Scotland didn't release the dangling blonde though. "America. I physically cannot come to your house tonight because of this." He held up his hand so the handcuff was clear. America followed to chain of the handcuff from Englandmto Scotland.

"Dude… You handcuffed yourself to your younger brother?... Pervert…" America found himself slammed against the door roughly.

"Remind me why I cannae beat tha shite oot of this fat ass?" America looked hurt.

"I'm not fat…"

"You can't hit him because of our international relationships, our boss and the fact we are handcuffed and I don't want to be included in the fight."

Scotland glared at America but kept him pinned against the door. "Where did ye learn tha words 'Porridge Wog'?"

"From England." England paled suddenly. He suddenly wished he never said all those insults about his brothers in front of America. Damn America, always trying to be honest and heroic!

"Whit else did he call meh!"

"Ummm… 'Stupid Jock', 'Sawney', 'Tinker'." He paused in thought. "He also called someone a 'Sheep Shagger', a'Taffy', 'Mack', 'Mick' and 'Pikey'… but I don't think he was talking about you when he said those ones…"

Scotland flushed red at first but suddenly returned to his ordinary expression. There was a deadly calm over the Scotsman as he let go of America's collar. He stepped back and stared blankly at England. The short blonde was seriously considering trying to saw off his wrist, just to escape Scotland and his gaze. The red head was too calm, it was scary….

America was calm as well, though he still had a hand on his tummy, like he was worried about his weight. "So England can't stay at my house tonight?"

"No, because I'm chained to my brother."

"Why can't Scotland come too?" The red head snorted.

"Nar. Yer fer real? I rather be clagged in here!"

America looked confused as he tried to figure out what Scotland had said. After a few moments, he had a rough idea.

"Oh… So Scotland doesn't want to come to my house?" England nodded. America broke out into a grin.

"Okay! Then I will just stay here!"

"Nee! Tha reason I donnae wannae stay at yer hoose is because yer there!" America just shrugged and walked in, ignoring Scotland's protests.

"Why don't you just unlock the handcuffs?" He said as he plopped down onto the sofa.

"It is missing."

"So when did this happen?"

"Two nights ago when I was drunk."

"Have you tried cutting it?"

"Yes. We can't break them."

"Can I try?" Scotland was fed up with America's questions. England, however, was happy enough that he had a friend to talk to. If Scotland got to talk to France, then he deserved to talk to America. Plus he was terrified that Scotland would kill him when the taller blonde left.

"I suppose. Give it a go if you wish." America stood up and began pulling at the chain, trying to break one of the small links. Scotland was using his free hand to text. England didn't pay attention to his brother. After 30 minutes, America gave up.

"Man. Those chains are tough…" Scotland rolled his eyes but turned back to the TV. It was fairly late now and dark outside.

"Gah back ta yer hoose now. It's late and I wannae gah ta bed."

"No way dude! I'm staying here with England!"

"Tch!" Scotland sounded unconvinced but England gave the blonde permission.

America didn't have any PJs or toiletries with him so he borrowed England's. He refused to leave England alone so squeezed into the bed with the two brothers. Scotland kept trying to kick him out but America was just too strong so he gave up.

It was uncomfortable with three men in one bed but eventually all of them fell asleep.

(A/N -

Porridge Wog, Stupid Jock, Sawney and Tinker - Ethnic slurs against Scottish people

Sheep Shagger, Taffy - Ethnic slurs against Welsh people

Mack, Mick and Pikey - Ethnic slurs against Irish people

Yeah England has been bad mouthing his brothers behind their backs... don't fell bad for them though. They do it too.