Worry.

England suddenly rounded a corner and saw…

Sunset! It was sunset! The dead line was here!

And Scotland was on the phone! What if he was phoning their prime minister to quit the UK?

He ran pass a laughing France to the red head, smacking the phone from his brother's hand. The red head looked like he was going to angrily protest to the rash action, but before that the blonde acted.

Scotland froze in surprise.

England had his arms around the taller man's torso tightly, squeezing the brothers together in a hug. A few moments later and soon the red haired man's arms were around England.

The blond mumbled something intelligible into his chest.

"I cannae hear ye when yer havering in tae me chest…"

However the younger man remained still, frozen as if he was shocked at his impulsive actions.

The red head sighed at the silence.

He paused, staring briefly at the sky. He always liked the sky. It appeared endless and was ever changing. Plus it was his favourite colour. Today it was a light simmering blue with greyish clouds dotting the horizon. It was nice.

He signed a second time - it turned out you can't say everything you feel with actions alone. And it seemed to be one of those times he actually had to root around his vocabulary and dig out a sentence that showed his feelings. He was honestly a bit surprised he had to speak like this to his brother; usually he only needed to tell France his feelings.

And that was rare.

"I worry about ye, tae."

He felt the blonde relax slightly in the hug. England made soon sort of soft mumbling noise; probably out of embarrassment. He pressed his face farther into Scotland's shoulder and the red head felt the heat from the probably blush.

He glanced at France who was smiling slightly, phone back in hand after picking it up. He seemed pleased at the develop. The French man, though he was England's rival, liked it when the brothers got on like this for a moment or two. Apparently their constant fighting was affecting his beauty by creating a stressful environment. (though he did prefer it when the brothers disagreed sometimes as it gave his 'opportunities' to 'help' one of them 'blow off some steam')

France, when he noticed Scotland was looking at him gave the red head a thumbs up, to which the Scotsman rolled his eyes.

It was just after that gesture, that this heart felt moments between brothers ended by England pushing himself away. His cheeks were a rosy and his eyes seemed slightly watery from emotion, however he did still look annoyed at something.

"Wait! How did you know that I was worrying about you?" He demanded.

"Ye told me ova the phone."

"What? You heard me?"

"Aye."

"Why did you pretend that you didn't hear?"

"I was in the middle of a fight and I wasnae sure if I heard ye correctly!" England's cheeks darkened two more shades of red.

"You… You… You…" He stuttered, embarrassed of how emotional he had acted when it had just become clear that it wasn't necessary. "You… You… YOU IDIOT!"

The other two in the alley way flinched at the sudden volume.

"I cannot believe I ran half way across this bloody city, just to fucking embar~" He was silenced by another hug, this time though Scotland had started it. "L-Let go, you bastard!"

"Nee."

"I said 'Le~"

"Nee."

The blonde tried to push himself away again but was stopped by Scotland's strength.

"Cheers fer… worrying about meh…" England sniffed as he leant his head on Scotland.

"S-stupid… I thought you were going to disappear again…"

"Again?" England went silent and Scotland soon figured that his little brother was probably crying. Not his exact intent…

"I-diot… You always d-disappeared… w-when w-we were youn-younger…"

"Ye ran away a lot tae." The red head accused softly.

"You c-chased me away!"

"You…!" Scotland scowled slightly as he found himself unable to come up with a counter. "What dee ye mean by disappear anae way?" He asked, a little snappily though he didn't mean it to sound that way.

"Sometimes, centuries ago… and sometimes even now, I wouldn't see or hear from you for years…"

"Tha's 'cause we were in alotta wars against each otha." Scotland reasoned. England sighed huffily.

"Wanker. I mean even when we weren't fighting. The most I ever saw you in a past was on the battle field!"

Scotland at this point had considered answering 'That's because I was busy' or 'I was very busy then' but, since he knew both were lies, he said, "Ah."

The truth was he did avoid his brothers, not just England but mostly him, a lot in the past. He was rarely busy and spent quite a bit of his teenage years bored. His life then was… slightly confusing at best and usually not the safest…

'Actually tha' was a complete understatement.' Scotland mused.

With all the civil wars and fighting between the 150+ clans, he was highly unstable back then. It made him very dangerous in a way, with his mood swings, temper and changeability. Not to mention the shaky morals he had to begin with.

He had not been born for battle like Prussia and other European countries but he had grown up with it anyway. All the blood shed made him act 'strangely' and that made many people think he was insane. Truth be told, sometimes he even thought he was a little crazy with all the chaos going on around him.

Then he started drinking to get rid of the headaches from the conflict, madness from battle, the memories of the past and guilt. He also smoked (not always nicotine) in the last two or three centuries. Unfortunately he had been 'blessed' with a high alcohol tolerances and a resilient brain.

Yes, he did avoid England a lot in the past. He saw no point in denying that. However he also didn't see any point in telling England some of the reasons why he was avoided. He was content with letting the blonde continue thinking that the only reason why he was avoided was because he was hated or because the two fought a lot. Though those were undeniably two of the biggest reasons…

"Ye noticed?…"

"Anyone would notice if their brother suddenly disappeared for almost an entire bloody century!" The English man snapped, pushing himself away again. Scotland released the hug and the blonde took two steps back. His cheeks were slightly damp and his eyes were a little bit puffy but he wasn't crying anymore.

France sighed as he watched the two Britons. In his opinions these two were hopeless beyond compare. He was still trying to figure out how it went from a 'care and share' to the beginning of a argument.

Luckily (or unluckily depending on what France says and does next) for them, the 'country of l'armour' was there! France had considered trying to openly take part in the conversation but he knew that would never work and would make things much worse. So he did this.

Standing behind England so only Scotland could see his actions. 'Scotland! Apologise!' The blond mouthed. 'Zen say zomething nice to 'im.'

The red head raised an eyebrow.

'Compliment 'im. Tell ze tea sipper zat 'e was thoughtful.' Scotland tilted his head ever so slightly, showing that he understood.

England, meanwhile, was drying his cheeks with a handkerchief. He couldn't believe that he had ended up crying! It resulted from a mixture of relief, embarrassment and happiness. Stupid brother!

Speaking of his bloody brother, the red head was looking vaguely thoughtful, like he was trying to think of something to say. Well whatever it was, England didn't want to hear it.

"England?"

"What, you git?"

"I love ye."

…

"What?"

"I love ye."

England blanched before laughing uneasily. "Haha…ha… ha. Very funny old chap. Scotland, you can stop joki~"

Scotland suddenly leaned forward, crossing the height difference and making so their faces were only inches apart. His face was completely serious.

"I'm nae joking. I love ye."

"What?"

"I… love… you." Scotland tapped England hard on the forehead with every syllable of the sentence. The blonde rubbed his forehead. "Git it tha' time?"

England felt his entire face burn hotly as all the blood rushed to his cheeks, ears, forehead and neck.

That was totally unexpected!

He knew that at the moment he was probably the colour of a tomato. Scotland tilted his head slightly as he peered at his youngest brother.

"Are ye embarrassed that one man is saying 'I love ye' tae anotha man?"

"Wha-What? NO!"

"I suppose tha's right. Ye are gay. Oor are ye bi? I fergit."

England felt himself turn super nova at that comment.

"It doesnae matter anaeway." Scotland dismissed absently. "I'm yer brother so I can say I love ye."

"W-What are you saying?"

"I, Iain Stewart Kirkland, love ye, Arthur Kirkland."

"Yes! B-but what do you mean?"

"I. Love. Ye." "Stop saying that!"

"Why? It's true. I love ye."

"I said 'shut up'!"

"Nar, ye told meh ta stop saying I love ye."

"So stop it!"

"Ain't ye gonnae say it back?"

"W-what?"

"When someone says I love ye, ye have ta say something back."

England wasn't sure what would happen if every drop of blood in his body pooled in his cheeks but he was soon going to find out. God, this was embarrassing. No! Mortifying! His brother was confessing his love for England (in a brotherly way) in public (in front of France). Plus he was standing so close and was leaning down so their eyes were completely level!

"Weel?" The red head asked expectantly.

France sighed softly, watching his friend and his rival. The side of Scotland's lips twitched up in a smile, probably a smirk. He is enjoying this, the French man noted, watching England squirm. Scotland had seemed very serious and genuine in the beginning but at some point he had noticed that this was making England uncomfortable. It was a shame in a strange way….

England didn't seem that much better. His face was horribly scarlet, totally tasteless in fashion, as he blushed profusely.

France shook his head slightly with his arms crossed. He did tell Scotland to say something nice to his brother but even he didn't see this coming. The French man smiled softly anyway. It seemed that the way this was going, Scotland wouldn't need to date Belarus for England to admit he loves his oldest brother.

"Weel?"

"F-fine! I fucking love you! Are you happy, you absolute wanker? Now sod off!" The blonde finally burst out.

There was a few seconds of stillness before Scotland suddenly broke out into a wide grin. England blinked in surprised, taken back a bit. It was rare for him to see his brother smile so happily. The man was practically beaming.

"I ken. I jus' wannae hear ye say it." He gave a short laugh as he pulled his face away and stood up at his normal height again.

"Why are you laughing?" The red head laughed again.

"'Cause I'm happy, ye eejit."

England smiled back shyly at first before smiling normally. He strangely felt happy as well. Though a couple things about his brother were still bothering him.

"Where did Russia go?"

"Probably Russia. I dinnae ken where in Russia though."

"Wasn't he trying to kidnap you?"

"Aye, I guess so." England frowned slightly. Shouldn't his brother sound more concern; being kidnapped is very serious! However the red head seemed disinterested in his near taking as if it was normal.

(A/N - Fairies (normally Unseelie) are famous for kidnapping so Scotland is used to it. He is nearly fairied away a lot but England doesn't know this.)

"Why is Belarus angry with you then?" Scotland looked genuinely surprised at the question. France on the other hand looked interested; he hadn't heard what happened between Belarus and Scotland yet.

"How did ye ken Belarus was here?" The blonde rolled his eyes.

"You left behind a wall full of knifes that looked like they belonged to Russia's sister. Plus Belarus is obsessed with Russia and follows him most places."

"Ah. How did ye ken she was raging at meh though?"

"I met her."

"Ah. I thought she went home."

"Apparently not." France was now standing beside England, just as curious. "So why is she, and I quote, 'going to rape that slutty red head'."

France paled upon hearing the threat for the first time.

"Probably 'cause I threatened tae rape her first. I cannae think of anae otha reason than tha'" Both blonde countries stared in absolute shock at the taller man.

"Sacred bleu, L'Ecosse! Belarus is goi~ Non, L'Russe is going to kill tu!"

"Oh my God! My brother has a death wish!"

"Yer both over reacting."

France shook his head violently with worry. Just as soon as Scotland convinced Russia to go home, he reveals that he threatened Belarus! And she was still here!

"Tu are under-reacting, mon amis!"

"Yes, Scotland! Can you not see the severe~" He was interrupted by a phone buzzing. France glanced at his phone before handing to Scotland.

"'ello?" A loud voice suddenly screamed over the mobile's speaker. "Fuck. I fergit about tha PM…"

"What?"

"Ye knocked tha phone out of me hand when I was talking tae him!"

"How was I meant to know that! I thought you were quitting the UK!"

"Shut up! This is yer fault!"

"What do you mean by that?" England demanded angrily.

"If ye didnae knock tha phone away, he wouldnae be this pished!" Scotland snapped back as he held the phone to his ear. France rolled his eyes.

"Tu are both tres impossible!"

"Shut it Frog!"

"Tea sipper, tu are so petite and tasteless."

"Fuck off you wanker! We're the same height and there is nothing wrong with my clothes!"

"I cannae speak on tha phone when yer both hollering like this!" The red head chastised the blondes as he tried to speak with his boss. He turned back tae tha phone.

"Aye everything I sed befoore was true and all. I told ye tha truth!" Scotland paused, shallowing slightly as if he was nervous suddenly.

"Whit? There are reports of a female country threading humans with knifes in Edinburgh? Havenae heard of her."

"Nae, I have nae idea who she is."

"Belarus? Ye think?" "Ye dee…"

"So, ye actually ken…"

"Umm… Anae change I gonnae git out of this without tae much trouble?"

"Nae change in heel?… Weel, England was apart of this tae."

"What?"

"Aye, England ken aboot this entire situation."

"Don't drag me into your mess, you twat!" The blonde snatched the phone off of Scotland. "Hello sir?"

The Prime Minister shouted something over the phone. "Um, yes I may have known of Russia and Belarus but…"

"Yes I know sir but…"

"Yes but you should know - Scotland threatened to rape Belarus!"

"Wee, fuckin' weasel!" Scotland pulled the phone from England's hand.

"England made a bet with Russia and tha prize was meh!"

"I did not! That was you!"

"Ye agreed tah it and took part!"

"L'Ecosse is right, Angleterre." England had one hand on the phone, like Scotland and pulled it over so it was close to his ear.

"Well, Scotland got drunk and nearly kidnapped!"

"Fuck oof! PM, England git in a bar fight with Russia!" Scotland yelled into the phone, trying to wrestle the mobile from his brother's grip. England was also fighting for the phone.

"Scotland beat up a human!"

"Tha' was self defence, ye bassa! England git kicked oot oof Fiona's pub agen!" The two were competing for France's phone while tattling on each other. Eventually England said this.

"Scotland also got in a bar fight with another human! He was stabbed!" The blonde froze as he suddenly remembered that yesterday his brother was injured and there was blood on a wall today.

"Weel, England also wa~"

"Wait! You were stabbed yesterday!"

"Aye! Ye just fucking tattled on meh few tha'!" The Englishman pulled the phone hard and Scotland lost grip on it. Whether or not their boss was still there and listening was unknown. It was unlikely so the fight had probably been unnecessary.

England glanced at the phone. The silver plastic casing was slippery with dark red liquid, explaining why Scotland lost his grip so easily. He wondered how he didn't notice this before. He even had blood on his hand, in the shape of long slim fingers.

He retracted his hand from the phone in shock and it dropped to the pavement.

His eyes turned to Scotland's new dark blue hoodie. It was slightly ill fighting; as in order to accommodate his long limbs he had to buy a larger size so it was baggy on his skinnier body. There was blood along his left sleeve, mostly on the cuff. His hand was entirely crimson. In particular was a large dark scarlet inflamed line on his palm.

The blonde's eyes widen and he grabbed the hand.

He didn't expect the punch to his mouth and his brother hand being yanked back.

"Fuck! Why are ye bleeding grabbing me fucking hand! Bitch! It still fucking hurts bassa!" Scotland held his hand, obviously in pain and angry.

England on the other hand was fine; the punch had been light and not aimed; glancing off the side of his mouth. It seemed Scotland had just wanted his hand back, not to cause any pain or punishment.

"What happened to your hand?" He asked, surprised to see the reaction of pain from his brother.

"Whit dee ye bloody heel, fucking think happened? I did threaten tae fucking rape a bloody psychotic, knife throwing bitch!"

"She stabbed you?"

Scotland pulled out his most sarcastic voice. "Nae; she was bloody happy to be threatened! In fact, she opened up her fucking dress and begged meh tae take her there! AYE, SHE FUCKING STABBED MEH! And it bloody hurts when ye bloody grab it like that!" Scotland finished his rant before turning to the side so he was no longer facing England.

The blond watched as the red head began to moodily lick the wound, winching at the obvious pain. It was like watching a puppy trying to stop a cut on its paw from hurting. At least it was cleaning the injury a bit.

He wondered why Scotland didn't mention it before. It was like he didn't notice it until England had purposely grabbed it…

"Scotland… Did you possibly forget that you had that knife wound and forgot to feel the pain? Then when you did remember it, you remembered the pain?"

"Shut it! Dinnae someone teach ye tab neva grab a injury!" The red haired man went back to lapping at the bloody cut.

England rolled his eyes in a way of endearment towards his brother. He couldn't tell if the man was clever or a complete idiot. However he was still very worried about the cut.

"Come on. Let me see, you wanker." Scotland hesitated. "Please." He finally held it out gingerly.

England took the hand carefully and examined it.

No wonder it hurts! The knife must have gone through his entire hand! The red head basically had a hole through his palm!

The hole ran from the base of his thumb, diagonally, to the bottom of his pinky in a long, wide line. He couldn't actually see through his brother's hand with all the flesh being swollen and beginning to heal and close up. However he knew it went through it as there was a small identical cut from where the knife exited the hand.

There were traces of grit and dirt in the cut. There was less blood, now that Scotland had licked some of it up. The flesh around the cut was swollen and inflamed a bright, painful red.

England paled slightly as he saw the disconnected muscles and tenons. He turned the hand around and looked at the back of the hand at the exit of the hole. It didn't look as painful but the skin around the cut was more ragged.

It seemed like a pretty serious cut; thankfully not cutting the wrist or the ulnar artery so blood lost would not be too bad if they just bandaged at the moment. The man would probably need to go to hospital for stitches anyway.

England bit his bottom lip in worry. He didn't have any bandages on him. However, he smiled as he got an idea. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the hand.

When he tightened the knot, Scotland let out a "Son of a…!", glaring at the English man before pulling the hand away again.

England sighed softly, shaking his head. He sucked in a small gasp of air as he saw another tiny spot of blood on the navy blue hoodie near the stomach.

"Scotland! Can I see your stomach wound?"

"Hmmm? Aye, sure." Scotland replied absently, examining the bandaging lazily. France was also looking carefully at it as well. He was concerned for his best friend's health.

The Scotsman lifted up the hoodie, revealing his clothes from yesterday. England grimaced in disgust at the dark, gritty brown splotch of old blood and ripped clothing. In the centre of the filthy, flakey, dried mess was a damp spot that was still a glistening crimson. Scotland lifted up that top to reveal his pale stomach, lined with smooth hard muscles and glossy old scars. The cut from yesterday was seeping small amounts of blood, though the tissue around it was healed.

"You're wound is open!"

"I only healed it a tad yesterday tah make Russia stop worrying. It was still fair fragile. I must had busted it open agen when I was fighting with Russia…" Scotland barely glanced at it.

"Nae bleeding tae badly." He dropped the shirt and return to his hand, looking at it curiously.

England however pulled the shirt up again. He stared at the blood worriedly. "Does it hurt?"

"Nee. Cannae feel it much… Me hand still hurts like heel. Almost like some twat had grabbed it." England scowled slightly.

"Oh do shut up." He let the hoodie fall back down again. "They are both your fault anyway. What possessed you to make up this insane bet anyway?"

Scotland grinned again. "'Cause I love ye and I wannae hear ye say it tae." The blonde flushed a deep red.

"W-what?"

"I love ye." England blushed harder.

Scotland laughed at his reaction. He gave a poke to England forehead.

"Gotcha, ye wee bairne."

(A/N - Feel free to hit me! God - I have been so busy. In fact - I finally got my first job! I'm a waiter! :P

The scary thing is that 3 weeks before I got the job I drew Scotland in a waiter's outfit and my work uniform is almost exactly the same. The only different is my bow tie and vest top is plain black.

lil-miss-tiny . deviant art . com / # / d4pm1wt

Hopefully you can view the picture from this link and hopefully this will pacify any feeling of impatience... I'm just so sorry again!

The good news is that I only have one more chapter to do for this story.

REVIEW PLEASE! Tell me whether I'm any good at fluff. I cannae tell so I'm not sure if I should try writing it again.

And I'm sorry again for the wait. You guys must get impatient or pissed off at times.)