Pass his limit

Two bottles later and Scotland was bright red in the face and grinning happily. The change was so fast. One minute he was normal, talking like his usual self and one shot later, he was red faced and slurring his words with a gentle sway.

The red head had clearly passed his limit. He leaned on his hand.

Russia was a little drunk as well but he didn't have three bottles of whiskey before coming here so was acting mostly normal. The pub was getting kind of warm so he had removed his gloves and top coat and placed it on another stool. Scotland had kept on his hoodie though as he knew that the white t-shirt he was wearing would look bad and heavily bloodied. His stab wound was almost gone but the blood covered the front of his clothing freely.

They had been drinking for a few hours now. Scotland closed his eyes for a moment. The elbow that he was leaning on was suddenly swept from under his head. He fell face first into the surface of the wooden bar. He lifted his head.

"GAWD DAMMIT FLORA!"

"Shut it Iain! Ye cannae pass oot in me pub agen! If you pass oot in here agen, expect ta find yerself at the mercy of tha homeless shelter when ya wake up!" Flora threatened. Scotland rolled his eyes.

"I'll gah ho-home in a manate… I mean mimute. Minute!" He corrected his slurs until he managed to say the word.

Russia giggled at him, pink in the face from the large quantity of vodka. His face was almost the same colour as his hair. He did look on the verge of passing out. Russia guessed that Scotland had about the same alcohol limit he had which was impressive. Russia had never met anyone that could match him drink to drink before and if his red head hadn't already drunk 3 large whiskey bottles, they would be equal at the moment.

Flora rolled his eyes. "Ivan, do ye ken where he lives?"

"Da."

"Gud. He's gonnae pass oot soon and I dinnae ken where he lives. Canne ye take him home when he finally does pass oot?"

"Da." Russia smiled a little too widely and it creeped Flora and several other costumers who were still there.

It was pitch black outside and approaching midnight fast. Scotland seemed too happy and caught up in his own pleasure to notice anything wrong.

A 'happy drunk' in other words.

Very happy...

Flora sighed. Scotland only got this drunk once or so a fortnight. There was an unknown reason for that though…

Fairies were known to try and take advantage of this time.

Sorcha smiled at Scotland as he laughed loudly. The red head leaned on Russia slightly. The disguised fairy walked up to Scotland gingerly and wrapped her arms around him. Her voice was sweet and innocent and slightly higher than most.

"Hello Alba. Are you happy?" Usually Scotland would tense but act friendly to her unless she tried something but at the moment Scotland smiled widely at her and answered brightly.

"Och, heys Soorsa. As luvely-y as usaal. I'm doin' da-andy!" He slurred. She pecked his cheek and he didn't resist or told her to leave him alone like normal.

Russia shot a confused glare at her.

Sorcha became braver in her actions, kissing Scotland longer on his cheek but closer to his mouth.

Then again.

Then again.

Then again.

The red head turned his head a little, suddenly realising that he was being kissed. The next kiss landed on his lips and his eyes widened momentarily before closing slightly in pleasure.

The kiss deepened as Sorcha pulled herself closer to him. Scotland seemed unable to resist as she began to straddle him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Russia blushed and looked away. He wanted to intervene but Scotland seemed happy. Actually very happy.

The red head was trapped in ecstasy by the fairy; he was possessed as Sorcha forced the kiss deeper, sparking tongues. Their tongues danced and Scotland somehow found his arms wrapped around her thin waist.

The kiss paused. Sorcha whispered in his ear without the stainless steel stud.

"Do you want to kiss more?" Scotland nodded with a grin, only semi-consciously.

"Do you want to come with me?" Scotland nodded again, not fully aware of where he was or what he was doing.

"So you will follow me of your own free will?"

"Aye." His usual Scottish rough accent was gruff with lust and longing.

"Promise?"

"A~"

"IAIN!" Flora snapped loudly drawing the attention of everyone in the pub. They all looked at her. Flora was glaring murderously at Sorcha.

"Excuse me Sorcha… I think ye betta leave tha man alone. He has a girlfriend. Gah back ta yer friend." She gestured to the man at the back. Sorcha glared at her. "I said, gah back ta yer friend! NOW!" She yelled angrily.

Flora was not a simple or weak woman. She near single-handedly ran a Scottish pub, which had a regular stream of drunks and violent costumers. The woman managed to control these people in her pub by fear and power alone. People rarely defied her.

Sorcha sighed huffily, sliding off of Scotland's lap who watched her leave with a small pout. A grin was soon plastered on his face again; he was too intoxicated to do otherwise. He turned back to the bar and Flora did a loud sigh. She whispered to Russia.

"Ivan. Watch that girl, Sorcha. She has a hobby of trying to steal other lassie's boyfriends but fer some reason, she obsessed with Iain. Maybe it's 'cause he's tha only one tah turn her doon every time. I dinnae ken. She's always waits 'til he's like this though befoore trying ta make a move though so be careful."

She turned back to Scotland who was smiling happily, already forgetting his kiss with Sorcha. Russia watched them now. "Gawd Iain! Yer tha smartest man I ken but as soon as ye git this drunk, ye agree ta anaething and everything! Yer lucky ye hav' nae been married by accident yet."

Russia's ears perked up suddenly. Anything? Huh?...

"Dah I? I dinnae notose… notice."

"Of coorse not! Yer tah hammered!" Scotland just smiled back, nothing being able to bring down his high. "Geez… Yer just lucky I was here ta stop ye from dahing something yer regret... Are ye payin' attention?"

"Aye… Nee… Whit?" Scotland drank another shot.

"Ye really would agree to anae thing?" Flora marvelled. "If I asked ye ta marry me, ye would wouldn't ye?"

"Huh? Ye wannae morry meh?"

"Geez! Remember yer girlfriend, Iain! Jenny! Jennifer! Wee Jen!"

"Och. I lave Janny." Scotland was grinning widely with his face a deep crimson red. Flora rolled her eyes, giving up on talking to the drunken red head.

"Is he always like this when he gets drunk, da?"

"Nar, usually he's braw with alcohol and it doesnae effect him. It's oonly when he gits this drunk. He's a real edjit like this. Nothing can bring him doon apar' from his brothers. And he'll laugh his head oof at tha wee'est joke. He'll just giggle non-stop." Flora gave a sigh with a small shrug. "At least he's happy when he's like this."

Flora didn't have a lot of costumers to serve now as most of them had left. She turned back to one of the few costumers left. Russia drank a shot. He suddenly wanted to tell a joke. He wanted to see Scotland giggle. It seemed odd that he could or would.

"What's the difference between Americans and yogurt, da?"

"I dinnae ken."

"If you leave yogurt alone for 200 years, it'll grow a culture, da." (A/N - Okay. I admit - That was a shot at Americans. I actually love America. The country and the person.)

Scotland paused a moment before suddenly laughing very loudly. The few in the bar turned and looked at him. He just continued laughing though, ignoring the stares.

Russia stared in amazement. He really was laughing non-stop. Passing his alcohol limit really did change his personality. He quietened down into a low giggling. Russia joined in the giggling for a while, enjoying Scotland's drunken joy.

After 10 or so minutes, he finally calmed down. Flora rolled her eyes. "Told ya, Ivan."

Scotland leaned his head on the bar, tired from laughing so hard. Russia could see the tops of his ears which were a bright scarlet and a silver coloured stud. His hair and clothes were dried now from the warm pub and the time spent in it. His red hair was messy and coarse looking.

Russia leaned in to examine the hair more. That was one of the main reason he found him so intriguing and rare; his blood red hair that clashed with his bright green eyes. He had never met someone who had such a bright natural hair colour.

Russia blinked, looking closely at the hair. It was surprisingly fine close up; there was just a lot of it though so it appeared thick and coarse. Russia reached forward a little and touched the tips of the red hair with his bare fingers. It was soft.

He glanced at Scotland and he was motionless. He wasn't sure if the red head had not noticed the touch or if he knew but wasn't bother by it. Normally he would think the latter before of his keen senses but while drunk…

Russia gave it a quick stroke. Scotland still didn't move.

Russia stroked it again.

And again.

And again.

Soon he had found himself gently petting the man like he was a cat. The hair felt like fine feathers, so supple and fluffy. How surprising!

Russia smiled as he caressed the crimson spikes. He was happy that he had taken off his gloves.

"Hmmmm~" He stopped suddenly at that sound. Scotland had hummed slightly. "Diddae…. Dinna stop…" He murmured, still slurring his words.

Russia started to rub the hair again in a comforting way. He loved the gentle softness of the hair. Scotland hummed happily again. The humming deepened and it sounded a bit like purring now.

"You sound like a kitty, da."

"Hmmm~ Tha's 'cuze I'mma lik a animal… wolf... Grew up like one… Instinctiv~…" He trailed off with a content sigh and a yawn. He gave a sound similar to a low, throaty purr of pleasure and Russia smiled wider.

"Is he asleep now?" Flora asked.

"Nar…" The red head mumbled quietly, he sounded half asleep now.

"Gawd. He has drunk tah much and now he's gonnae pass oot agen in meh pub." She complained. She looked at Ivan who only had a light pink tinge on his cheeks from drinking. "Ye sober enuff ta take this numpty home?"

"Da." Flora smiled at him gently.

"Yer a gud friend. Ye ken?" She turned to Scotland. "Iain! Ger up! Ivan gonnae take ye home. Don ye dare fall asleep in here!" Scotland raised his head a little.

"Huh?"

"I SED GIT UP!" Scotland snapped up suddenly. He swayed a little but remained up-right.

"I'mma goin'! I'mma goin'!" He mumbled annoyed.

"So yer oof yer sugar high? No longer feelin' so cheerful?" He scowled a little, but it wasn't very effective with his face still a bright red, before grinning again. He still seemed in his usually high spirits but now all his energy was nearly gone.

"He's gonnae crash soon and collapse. Ye git him home before tha happens oor ye'll neva wake him up til morn'." She told the tall man as he stood up.

Russia put on his long tan coat and stuffed his gloves in his pocket. Scotland stood up unsteadily after him and swayed dangerously. The beige haired man watched him carefully, with a worried smile. He hoped he didn't fall over and hurt himself. Maybe he should assist him or maybe carry him? Before he could decided whether or not he should help, Scotland tried to walk forward, stumbled and crashed into Russia.

"Fuck." He mumbled in a slur as he tried to untangle himself from the scarf, he had somehow managed to get caught up in.

"Iain. Ye cannae walk in a straight line anae moore? This is why you shouldnae drink pass yer limit." Flora scolded him from across the bar whilst filling a pint glass with lager. Scotland grinned at her, still endlessly cheerful.

"Aye?"

"Aye." Russia un-wrapped the scarf from around Scotland. The red head leaned on him heavily but he didn't mind. Scotland obviously couldn't walk properly after drinking such a phenomenal amount.

Russia made up his mind. He scooped the off-balanced red head off his feet. He held him bridal style.

If Scotland was sober or even his normal drunkenness, (and not pass his limit) he would have struggled violently against Russia. His pride would never let him be carry by anyone, except for special exceptions (heavily injured – like a broken leg etc.) and only by his brothers and sometimes France. Scotland's mind throbbed as he tried to understand how he went from standing to sideways in a matter of seconds. The large amount of vodka and whiskey coursing throughout his entire body was wreaking havoc on his senses, especially his balance.

"Bludy heel. The world jus' tipped." He gripped his head dizzily with one hand and Russia's chest with the other.

"Nyet. I just picked you up, da!" Russia replied brightly.

"Oh…" was the only thing that Scotland could say. His head lulled a bit as he became used to his new height and he released his grip on his head. "Chers mite-ate…" He slurred with a grin.

"Da!"

"Yer a gud friend."

"Спасибо!"

"Whit?"

"It means 'Thank You', da."

"Aye?" Scotland sat there smiling up at Russia, a deep red in the face.

"Hmmm~ You're so cute when you are bright red like this."

"Hmmm?"

"Da. You should come back to Russia with me." Russia hoped that Flora was telling the truth when she said that Scotland agreed to anything when like this.

"Aye. So-sure. Why nat?" He mumbled happily.

"Really?" Scotland nodded sleepily.

"Och. Okiy-ay..."

"So you will become one with Russia? And live with me?"

"Ay… e…" Scotland closed his eyes a little and his head leaned on Russia's chest. He was still awake but right on the verge of passing out. Russia grinned. He said yes!

He should get him to sign something though… he might change his mind when he sobers up… plus there was that annoying blonde brother of his, England, who will try to get in the way. In his opinion, England should just let him keep Scotland; he would be happier with him anyway. Plus the brothers only fight; it made more sense this way.

Now he only had to take him home.

Russia began to carry the red head towards to door, when it slammed out.

"SCOTLAND?"

(A/N - Scotland is normally a good drunk. In fact he is a great drunk. In fact it is near impossible to tell when he is sober or drunk, he is that damn good. But like every drunk, he does have a limit. His limit just happens to be very high. But when he does cross it...

I imagine that he acts goofily and very happy-go-lucky and maybe a bit gigglely. He probably would talk too much and it would be about utter crap. In my head canon, he isn't actually defendless as if he is suddenly weak or a push over, he's just very agreeable and doesn't think. You could convince him to do almost anything plus it will take him a couple of days to remember it so you had time to run away or escape if it was something he would regret or didn't like.

Unfortunatly he can switch from a 'happy drunk' to an 'angry drunk' easily when provoked. He becomes violent, loud and obnoxious, picking fights with random drunks, usually his brothers. After a night as an 'angry drunk', he usually wakes up in a cell beside either Ireland or North Ireland. Luckily he rarily passes his limit so he very rarely ends up in jail.

Trying to write like a drunk person with a slur is hard...

Review Please!

A small reminder - If you don't like the story, skip it! I didn't put them together like this, just to make it easier for me (much). It's so you can pick what story you read.

I still need to know what type of story you would want next. Most of my next story ideas are either action, very mild horror, surreal or a little fluffy.

I'm not a mind reader! You need to tell me what you want so I can deliver! Do you want fluff or action or what?)