IDK man. That's all.

Side note: A lot of these are turning sexy at the end recently... I honestly have no idea what that's about.

Enjoy! ;)

"How many?"

"You're going to have to elaborate, Scotland, I'm not a mind reader."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I can't say I-"

"Why won't you just tell me?"

England smirked a little at Scotland's whine, sparing him a quick glance before rising from his chair, patting him on the cheek lightly before trotting off down the hall, leaving Scotland to groan again. He stomped off in the other direction, intent on trying a new plan.

"Okay I'm gonna say a number and you're going to tell me hot or cold."

"No."

"Ten."

England snorted.

"One hundred."

England raised an eyebrow, "Really, Scotland, how much of a slut do you think I am? That would be over half the world."

"I'm benchmarking!"

"Yes, because between ten and one hundred really narrows it down."

"Fifty?"

"I already told you, I'm not telling you."

Scotland groaned, "Why not?"

"What happened between me and my previous partners is none of your concern."

"I'm not asking for detailed accounts, just a number. Come on, I'm just curious!"

England wrinkled his nose in that way that implied the conversation was over and he didn't plan on talking anymore. Scotland groaned again, slumping back into thin air and wandering down the hall in search of a new tactic.

"Okay, I'm going to name a country and you're going to tell me if you've slept with them."

"You can name as many countries as you want, I'm not-"

"France?"

"Scotland, you know I've slept with France."

"Okay, Spain?"

England remained dutifully silent.

"I'll take that as a yes. Portugal?"

"Scotland, I'm not answering your questions. It doesn't matter how many people I've slept with, I'm sleeping with you now. Now go and find something more productive to do with your time."

Scotland gritted his teeth, but left, one final plan of action taking root in his head.

"France, you're the grapevine of gossip in Europe, right?"

"That would be me, yes, how can I help you today?"

"I need to know how many people England has slept with."

France was silent on the other side of the line, and for a moment Scotland thought he'd hung up, but then he spoke again, "Well, all of Western Europe other than your other siblings, as far as I'm aware, he's done his dealings in Eastern Europe, and- Wait, are you counting threesomes?"

Scotland blinked in surprise for a moment before answering the question, "Yes?"

"Oh, then tack on a few more."

Scotland almost laughed at that.

"Then in Asia add a few more, and probably give India a few points because those two were just all over-"

"I get it, France, just keep going."

France chuckled, "He slept with America, but only once as far as I'm aware. And he, Canada, and I once had a threesome so add one more there. I heard a rumour about he, Australia, and New Zealand, although I can neither confirm or deny that one, so I'm going to assume it's not true for now. Give me a moment to add that up and..." France paused, "Not including any human partners he may have had, because I don't doubt that would take the number into the high hundreds and maybe even thousands with the amount of time he's lived and his habit of hiring hookers every other day in his pirate days, he has slept with about forty-five countries, give-or-take, based on my knowledge. Keep in mind that there may be more I don't know about, and I may have been given false information."

Scotland wasn't sure whether to be impressed or disappointed with that number, the way England avoided the question made him think it was a lot higher, but then again, with his habit of being fairly monogamous, he also didn't find himself that surprised that the number was lower than he expected.

"Say, France how do you know all this?" he asked, suddenly realizing that France had just been able to recount all of England's lovers off of the top of his head.

"Darling, I know about everyone's sex lives. It's a point of pride for me that I'm who people come to for advice, what do you expect?"

"England comes to you for advice?"

"Only once, for Belgium I believe, but no, it's usually his partners who seek me out."

"Why?"

"He's a tricky man to figure out, my friend, not everyone had the privilege of growing up with him like you and I." There was a moment of silence between the two as Scotland thought about that. It was true that England had a hard shell, but it was easy to get inside with the right leverage. Then again, if the other person didn't know what the right leverage was then they could be stuck chipping at that shell for centuries and still not get anywhere with it. If there was one thing he knew about England, was that his walls came down easily, but they were put up fast and never deconstructed by his own hand, you had to pull the bricks loose yourself.

"Think about it this way, you were lucky, you didn't have to learn his quirks, you already knew them, so it was easier for you to... how do I put this gently?"

Scotland chuckled, "Put up with him?"

"Yes," France laughed a little, "That."

"I worked it out!"

"Did you now?"

Scotland smiled happily as he landed heavily on the settee next to England, "Yup, turns out all I had to do was ask France."

England narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular, "That traitor."

"You know, I was expecting the number to be grander."

England raised a brow at him, "Oh, I'm sorry, were you expecting a bigger slut?"

Scotland chuckled and leaned over him, pinning him to the sofa. England's gaze turned hazy, in that way Scotland had learned to associate with a really good fuck, as he placed a hand over each of his wrists and loomed over him, "Oh, no. You're a plenty big slut, opening your legs for all those countries, and here I thought I was special."

England smirked, "Oh, darling," he said, his legs wrapping tightly around his thighs, "If it's a slut you want-"

Scotland shut up that hazy smirk with a press of his thigh to England's groin, "It's a slut I've got," he chuckled at England's breathy hum of pleasure, pressing his thigh up again to make him repeat the noise, "You don't have to pretend, I know the truth."

England smiled, leaning his head to the side to nip playfully at the wrist there, sucking at the shin, "If you're going to call me a slut, then treat me like one," He said, his eyes opening, looking Scotland directly in the eye, but not removing his mouth from his wrist.

Scotland let go of England's other wrist, grasping England's chin between his fingers and turning his head roughly to face him, "With pleasure."