A short one because I don't really have time to write, but I've been busy and deserve a break, so fuck it.
Enjoy! ;)
Arthur was rather rudely awakened by his phone, at what he could only describe as an ungodly hour because he didn't care to check the clock, as he stabbed blindly at the answer button and held it to his ear.
"What?"
In his experience it was only ever once of his former colonies who ever called at this time in the morning, anyone from Europe would know better. Or at least most of the time. But that wasn't the issue.
"Arthur! Arthur shit did I wake you?"
At this point England opened his eyes enough to peer at the clock, bristling as America's voice called (far too loud, might he add) through the speakers. Semi-conscious of the groan that came from beside him, he replied, "No, America, it's only four in the morning, I'm always up this fucking early."
"Oh good!" America replied cheerfully, and now that he was a little more awake England could rather clearly hear the slight slur in his voice that meant he'd been drinking, which only meant that this call would get them absolutely nowhere. "So dude, Mattie and I were talking, right, and I'm like, dude, there is no way you're his favourite, because he seems to think so, and that's fuckin' stupid, right, I mean he's such a fuckin' pansy and- Fuck Matt! What was that for?"
The was some scuffling on the other end of the line, which England waited through with the patience of a saint, if he did say so himself.
"Yeah, so anyway, Jack and Willie both overheard us talking- Did I mention they were here? They're here. And so is Leon, like all of us, 'cause I gotta catch up with my bros, y'know?"
England hummed tiredly.
"And then all of them were like, nah man, I'm the favourite, which means war. 'Cause I mean you gotta have a favourite..."
Oh god did the boy ever shut up? Had he always been this mouthy? No, he'd been a dream as a child, this had come after his independence... and the alcohol wasn't helping, he was sure. Maybe if he fused all of his kids he'd get someone that was actually-
He stopped that thought in its tracks. He wasn't sure the world could handle a fusion of his kids. They'd be consumed with a mixture of hyperactivity and passive aggression, all wrapped up in a bow of cockiness and being a combination of simultaneously too smart and too dumb for their own good. Yes, he took it back. Leave them firmly separate.
"So? Who's your favourite?"
England sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, but before he could reply, the phone was pulled from his grip, a sleep heavy growl coming from his side, "I'm his favourite, now let us fuckin' sleep you ungrateful toe-rags."
Scotland pressed the end call button and passed the phone back to England who managed a laugh as Scotland rolled over to smother him into the mattress. He carelessly tossed the phone back onto the bedside table and burrowed into Scotland's neck, a happy groan coming from Scotland as his arms squeezed tightly. "What makes you so sure you're my favourite?" England asked through a smile.
"Nah, Canada's your favourite, but I like to kid myself."
England snorted out a laugh at that, kissing lightly at Scotland's jaw, "Don't sell yourself short, if you make breakfast tomorrow you'll scoot up the list."
Scotland yawned, "Nice try."