DO YOU EVER JUST GET IN A MOOD AND YOU'RE JUST LIKE YES! THIS IS A THING I NEED TO WRITE! WELL THIS WAS A THING I NEEDED TO WRITE BECAUSE I'M IN THAT MOOD. You'll know what I mean when you read it...

Also North is here because I don't write her enough.

Enjoy! ;)

As Northern Ireland pushed open the door to England's home, the first thing she noticed was that it was stuck on something. After pushing it open enough to squeeze through, she realized it was a coat, carelessly slung on the floor, and wedged in the gap between the bottom of the door and the carpet. She tugged it out, with more than a little difficulty, before closing the door and turning to the rest of the mess that surrounded her.

She counted two shirts, a tie, three socks, and a belt, not to mention the lamp that had been knocked to the floor, and the two picture frames which were crooked.

It didn't take the proverbial rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

She sighed to herself, muttering something along the lines of, "Those randy bastards knew I was coming today," and made her way toward the stairs, where she counted another belt, that last sock, two pairs of trousers, and one pair of pants, before reaching the firmly closed bedroom door.

She knocked on it loudly a few times, yelling, "Wake up you horny arseholes, I'm coming in and I don't want to see either of your dicks!" waiting a few moments for them to hide said dicks, before pushing the door open and getting an eye-full of arse.

It was better than a dick, she supposed, but only by a little.

"Oh, fuck, Scotland, put it away!" she groaned, covering her eyes with her hand, and waving her other vaguely in his direction.

"You didn't have to barge in here," England replied slightly grouchily, flopping himself over Scotland so that said arse was covered by his torso, making Scotland laugh drowsily into his pillow.

"You guys knew I was coming today," she protested huffily, still not removing her hand from her eyes, but instead peeking through her fingers, "Could you not have left me a trail of destruction up to your bedroom?"

England stretched lazily, like a cat who had just woken up from a nap, and North closed her fingers once again to save herself from seeing the hickeys that littered his torso. "It couldn't be helped, my dear," he said with a yawn, "We had a fight last night, and you know what they say about make-up sex."

Scotland snorted into the pillow, turning his face out of it, "What do they say?"

There was a sound of rustling as England rolled up the bed to kiss him soundly, North grimacing when she heard the tell-tale smacking sound followed by a low mutter. "Eugh, will you two not do that while I'm in the room?"

"Can't be helped, sorry Nor," Scotland replied smugly, followed by more kissing noises and low laughter.

North abruptly turned around, marching out of the room, "I'm making breakfast, if you have to fuck each other, do me the courtesy of being quiet at least."

England raised an eyebrow at the closed door as Scotland rolled all the way over onto his back, stretching out his limbs. "You really did a number on me last night," he said, groaning against his protesting muscles.

England turned his gaze appreciatively back to Scotland, who was stretched out from the head of the bed to the foot, his eyes closed in relief. Shit, he was sure the git was doing it on purpose, that smile didn't leave any doubt about it.

England found himself biting his tongue against a comment and instead chose to roll over, throwing a leg over Scotland's waist and licking a stripe up his neck. "Sorry poppet," he said silkily, making Scotland laugh, "I did try ever so hard to be gentle, but you just kept asking for more."

Scotland settled his hands on England's hips, titling his head back as England continued to nip at the marks already on his neck, "Did you hear me complaining?"

England hummed against his throat, biting lightly at his Adam's apple, "No, not at all."

Scotland huffed out a laugh, reaching up to pry the Englishman from his neck, "You're strangely chipper this morning."

England just shrugged, "A good shag can do that to a man."

"Are you all okay though, I really threw you into that table?"

England smiled softly and leaned up to kiss him, "It will take more than a slightly bruised bum to deter me, poppet." He laughed a little, sitting back, "And I think you more than made up for it, didn't you?"

Scotland sat up too, kissing at England's shoulder, "I hope so... I really am sorry about that though."

England stroked a hand through his hair, his brows lowering into a stubborn frown, knowing he wasn't talking about the bruised bum, "It wasn't your fault, I overreacted as usual. I was being a drama queen, I apologize."

Scotland smiled against the skin of England's shoulder, "Well, I guess we can't complain too much. As much as I hate fighting, I can't fault the make-up sex."

England kissed him then, deeply but lazily, with slow movements of the lips and easy presses of tongue, his hands slipping up and into Scotland's hair, as Scotland's own rubbed circles in England's hips. Both of them found themselves smiling as the kiss went on, what had been lazy turning giggly and stupid, with less tongue and more teeth, but not in a bad way. They were gentle teeth, smiling teeth, England's arms falling from Scotland's hair and just hanging from his shoulders, as Scotland's reached down to pinch at his behind.

England laughed into Scotland's mouth, pulling away, "We should go downstairs."

Scotland whined childishly, "Aw, but I was having so much fun!" he said irritably, pressing kisses along England's jaw.

England shook his head, "We can have fun when North's not in the house, I don't care so much about scarring Wales, but us having sex is not something North ever needs to hear."

Scotland snorted, "I'll tell Wales you said that."

"Go ahead," England shrugged, "You act as if he doesn't already know."

Scotland rolled his eyes, "You're no fun."

England kissed him lightly again, "Try me." And then he kicked his leg back and rolled off or the slightly disappointed Scot. "Get up, you lout, North is kind enough to make us breakfast it's the least we can do to..."

Scotland fell back on the bed, letting out a long sigh. And he'd so hoped he'd get some morning sex...

Also, did anyone catch the underwear thing? How North only spots one pair? It was subtle, but it's a reference to my H/C that Scotty doesn't wear underwear, because... y'know... kilts.