I was stressed today and I needed fluff so here ya go.

Enjoy! ;)

England had never been much of a fan of soppy puppy-dogs who stared into each other's eyes like they held the secrets to life's most burning questions. Their faces would go all mushy and soft and the horrendous little sighs they'd let out were quite frankly sickening.

Yes, we all know you love each other, you don't need to go about shoving it in all of our bloody faces.

The entire practice of it was completely unnecessary and utterly exhibitionist in his humble opinion. England was absolutely adamant about that.

Unfortunately, England was also a hypocrite.

Scotland had lovely eyes... And granted, they were really rather similar to his own, but Scotland just made them look so much better. It was so utterly easy to fall into the trap of staring. They were like bait on a fishing hook, so tempting, so appealing, right there, but as soon as you took it you couldn't let go and then you were at the mercy of those bloody... gorgeous eyes...

If England were able to let go of his pride long enough to wax poetic about them he'd probably write something along the lines of the colour being the exact shade of a moor that was being hit by the sunlight from the setting sun on a warm mid-summers evening, but, as much of a hypocrite as he was, he wasn't quite prepared to go off the deep end just yet.

It was only a matter of time, granted, but not yet.

Part of him hoped Scotland thought something similar to him, when he stared into England's eyes, just so then he could justify his own (mild) infatuation with Scotland's own.

It always happened at the most inopportune moments too. Like when they were cooking dinner and passed something between them, their hands would brush and England would look up and he got hooked. Or when they bumped as they passed each other around the house and caught each other's eyes and didn't move for a while. Or while they had their family over for a moment of bonding insisted upon by the PM... (That may or may not have been happening currently).

It was just so easy to forget there was anyone else there when he got caught in Scotland's eyes.

"Will you two please stop! You're going to give me cavities, and I want a proper dentist to fix it, so you will be paying!" North griped, not that either England or Scotland paused in their staring to acknowledge her.

Scotland's lips curled up, his fingers continuing their tracing of his shoulders, pressing their foreheads a little closer together. He let out a breath of laughter, but didn't say anything, and England was prepared to continue their silence. If either of them spoke, they'd be forced to focus on the other's lips instead, and then the other two would have even more to complain about.

"It's no use, North," Wales replied tiredly, "If you want them to stop you have to physically drag them apart."

This time it was England's turn to laugh, biting his lip against the exhale.

"I feel sorry that you have to share an island with these toss-pots," she replied, no doubt rolling her eyes, "Did you want me to help you develop the technology to detach yourself so you can join me and Ireland?"

Wales sighed a little melodramatically, "No, it's only a matter of time until- uh... I think I'll just float out into the Atlantic."

England brushed their noses together, drawing absentminded patterns on his thigh, making Scotland's fingers trail up England's neck to twist into his hair.

"Well, don't go the way of Iceland, poor boy is practically a recluse."

"I'll have Gwlanog, I'll be fine. We can form an 'Our Brothers Are Too Sickening To Be Around Club' I'm sure I can recruit Italy Romano and Prussia as well. Now that I think about it, we could probably tack on a free membership to an 'Our Brothers Are Better Known Than Us Even Though They're Dickheads' club."

Scotland's fingers brushed lightly at the hair at the base of his neck, and England reluctantly closed his eyes with a pleased hum.

"Do you think we could monetize those?"

"I don't doubt it, I'm sure there are plenty of countries who'd want to join. Canada and Zea would probably be willing to figurehead, for the second one at least."

"Hmmn, I guess so but- Will you two stop!"

The two of them snorted out laughter, and broke apart from where they'd lazily brought their lips together, Scotland's tongue still sticking out as he bit down on it to stop himself laughing too hard.

England turned his eyes to her, resting his forehead back against Scotland's, "Oh, let us have our fun North," he said with a roll of the eyes, "Scotland hasn't gotten any real action since the fifteen-hundreds."

Scotland bit his nose, "I have!" he said a little indignantly.

"Oh have you?" England raised an eyebrow.

Scotland leaned over him, an amused scowl on his face, "I have."

England returned his gaze to Scotland's eyes, a different kind of beautiful now that they were hard and challenging. His fingers curled tightly into Scotland's thigh, "Oh, of course pet," he said dryly, "I believe you." He smiled wickedly leaning up to return the bite to Scotland's nose, "You're a positive sex-magnet after all, I mean I can hardly keep my hands off of y-."

"Oh my god stop it!"

Scotland laughed, but leaned in to speak lowly into England's ear, "I'm not done with you."

England smiled lewdly, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I think I'm going to call up someone about that separation," Wales said coolly, turning his deliberately blank face back to North, "Can you start getting shirts? I think we can turn a decent profit if we start merchandizing. I'll call up Italy Romano, his face is bound to sell..."

England just turned back to see Scotland look at him with soft amusement, and he was drawn back to Scotland's eyes. Ahh, he had pretty eyes...