Here comes England

"SCOTLAND?"

This would be the 24th pub in Scotland they had visited, trying to track down his idiotic, alcoholic, problematic brother!

He was soaked through by now. Why of all times did it have to rain now? His brother had the strangest weather patterns; hopping from hail to sun to snow to hail again, in the middle of MAY!

'If ye dinnae like meh weather, just wait a 10 minutes and it'll change.'

Only Scotland could cope with this! Weather was so much simpler in England; it either rained or was sunny. It was so changeable in Scotland, all thanks to that Gulf Stream. At least it stopped Scotland from freezing over in winter like Canada who shares the same latitude.

France was still in the car with a map, trying to figure out where the next pub was if Scotland wasn't here.

"Och. Hey Iggy!" Scotland called out happily with a heavy slur.

His brother was grinning maniacally and a bright crimson.

Crap!

Dear god!

He had actually passed his limit! Did he drain the bloody pub of its whiskey supply!

Double Crap!

Russia was still here! Holding him! Why on God's fucking Earth was Russia carrying Scotland bridal style?

How drunk is Scotland anyway? He has that stupid grin on his face but he hasn't passed out yet. How many bottles of whiskey was that again?

Eight or nine? Maybe ten?

Wait!

That doesn't matter! Russia is trying to carry Scotland off! To Russia!

His boss and other brothers would kill him if he let that happened! And Scotland if he ever sobers up!

"RUSSIA! Let go of my brother!" Scotland snorted.

"How ro-rude! Igno-oring yer auldi-er bro!"

"Shut it Scotland! You're drunk!" Scotland scowled, his happy mood quickly vanishing.

"I fargit how bigga piece of shite ye are! Sodooff!" Scotland replied angrily.

"God Dammit Scotland! I'm here to fucking rescue you!"

"ARTHUR!"

"Huh?"

"Gawd! Leave Iain alone!"

"Uhhh… Fiona?"

"Flora!" She snapped. "And every time ye come ta me pub, you only cause trouble! Ye either git drunk and rant about how hard ye life is or ye come and cause trouble fer Iain or his brothers!"

"Not now Flora! Iain is in trouble already! That's Rus~ IVAN! He's a dangerous man!"

"Ivan hasnae caused any trouble!"

"And tha's a tad mean, Iggy! Yer bein' an erse-se."

"I mean it Iain! Just shut it you git! Didn't I tell you not to go near him!" He pointed an angry finger at the smiling Russian with a deep purple aura around him.

"KolKolKolKol…."

"Och! Aye! Sarrie! I fergat tha' yer tha bossiest twa-at I ken!" He decided to ignore his brother now. Provoking him into an 'angry drunk' would only worsen things. At least when he's a 'happy drunk', he's cooperative and cheerful….

Maybe a little too cooperative as he's being carried off willingly and maybe a little too cheerful as he seems oblivious to it but he was rarely like this.

Scotland yawned. He looked exhausted so he might pass out very soon. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing…

"Russia can you please release my brother?" England was trying to contain his worry and anger.

"Nyet."

"You wanker! Just give me back my brother!" Damn it! He lost his temper again.

Scotland didn't say anything though; he seemed a little zone out. He was grinning goofily again. England sighed internally. The red head was just too irrational…. Even more so when hammered…

England stomped over to them and grabbed Scotland's wrist.

"Let go!" He pulled the arm hard so Scotland partially fell from Russia's arms. That is when he saw the blood on Scotland and the ripped clothing showing that he was stabbed. He gasped and turned red with anger.

"RUSSIA YOU BASTARD! You attacked him!"

"Nyet!" Russia was horrified that he could hurt Scotland like that.

"Look at the blood! He's been stabbed!" England pulled again.

"Oi! Wotch it…" Scotland murmured.

"Nyet!" Russia pulled Scotland up into his arms again. England kept his tight grip on Scotland's arm.

"Russia. You cannot kidnap my brother! You hurt him!"

"Nyet! He agreed to it!" Russia said indignantly.

"HE'S DRUNK!" England burst out. "He's an absolute moron when he's like this!"

"Oi!" Scotland pouted. "Tha's meh-mean, Iggy…" England rolled his eyes.

"Come on Iain! I'll take you home."

"Nyet! His home is Russia now, da!" Russia glared murderously at England and he flinched but didn't let go of his brother.

"I mean it Russia! Drop him!"

"He is mine now, da. He'll be happier in Russia. You two only fight here." England twitched.

"You know nothing!" He hissed with rage. "What goes on between me and MY brothers has nothing to do with you!"

"Scotland belongs to me now, da!"

"No! He's mine!"

Russia's purple aura was at its maximum and the mysterious 'KolKolKol' sounds were emitting full blast. Everyone except for England was cowering at the back of the pub, even the strong Flora and the fairies whom were hidden among the few humans.

England felt terrified too but he was trying desperately to suppress it. Yelling seemed to help.

"He belongs to Russia, da!"

"He is part of the United bloody Kingdom!"

"A-and Narf Iralend-nd." Scotland slurred quietly.

The two ignored him, not realising that they had both let him go; Russia preferring to tightly grip his lead piper and England preferring to place his hands on his sides to look more threatening and angry.

Scotland was somehow standing/wavering between the two as they yelled about dominance over him.

To be honest it was kinda pissing him off. Last time he checked, he was 'Scotland the Brave', not 'Scotland the Dominated' or 'Scotland the Trophy'. He wasn't some little weak puppy or prize to be won or taken. His happy buzz was wearing off now and the shouting was too loud for comfort. Plus the world was spinning and twirling out of control.

Maybe he should just shut them up?...

"Angleterre? Is l'Ecosse 'ere or no~"

Thump!

Thump!

"Och Hey Froncis-is-is!"

The Frenchman had only walked in to find Russia and England fall face first on the floor and Scotland standing above them. It seemed he had just hit them both hard on the back of the head. There appeared to be a faint glow on his hands but when France blinked, it was gone. The redhead also had a lot of red blood over the front of his clothes. He swayed dangerously for a moment.

"l'Ecosse? What happened?"

"Uhh… Iggy and Ruscia were howlin' so I jus' hep them gah ta z-sleep" France stared in amazement. Scotland was completely hammered but he just managed to~

Thump!

Scotland landed on the floor, in between Russia and England.

"L'Ec~ IAIN!" France rushed forward, obviously too late to catch the passed out red head but wanting to check if he was okay. "Are tu okay?" Surprisingly he mumbled a quiet reply.

"I neva ken til I sober up…." He fell completely silent with a grin and a red face. France sighed as Flora stood behind him.

"Francis, ye take these edjits home. I refuse ta let them stay!" France nodded nervously. The angry Scotswoman scared him a little.

"Can tu call un taxi?"

"Aye. Tha taxi will be here soon." She was already on the phone, ordering a taxi.

The taxi took a long time to arrive. It was busy transporting other drunks to other pubs or other houses. The taxi driver assisted in carrying the three unconscious men to the car. They had great difficulty trying to fold Russia so his long legs could fit in the car.

France decided that staying in a hotel would be best. Scotland wouldn't like it if England stayed in his house, Russia was a long plane flight away from home and the beige haired man would probably be angry if he woke up on a plane and England was going to be grumpy wherever he wakes up.

(A/N - Is it wrong to like Flora? She's kinda cool.

A couple of more chapters left for this story.

Not much to add from the last chapter's notes. REVIEW!)