This is a hella long, overly-dramatic, and kinda shit celebration chapter because not only did we just hit 40 chapters, but 40,000 words, and 100 pages on word. I myself am feeling quite accomplished. (I mean most people would celebrate at fifty, but I do not conform to societal expectations!)
This was inspired by the many dramatic af movie soundtracks I've been listening to recently and I literally have not read this without a dramatic movie soundtrack of some kind in the background to set the mood, so I'd recommend doing that I guess. (Which one? IDK all of them. I seriously dunno). Also I just kinda wanted to write a proper BIG fight between the boys y'know? Eh, maybe not.
Enjoy! ;)
England was stopped in his tracks by an arm slamming into the wall in front of his face. He stopped, grimacing distastefully, but not looking up from his papers.
"You didn't tell me you were coming to Edinburgh."
England simply huffed at the statement, ducking under the arm and continuing on his way. He could feel Scotland follow behind him though, just as he could feel the irritation radiating off of him.
"It didn't seem important to mention." He replied, flipping a page over, but not really reading what was on it, hyper focused as he was on the man stalking along behind him.
"No? Didn't think the country you're coming to should know you're here? I had to find out from my secretary, when she asked why you hadn't come to visit yet."
England grit his teeth, doing his best not to growl, "Well, frankly your secretary should have let you know I was coming regardless."
"That's not the point, England."
England stopped and turned around, crossing his arms over his chest and sending his deepest scowl at the other nation, "Frankly, Scotland, I couldn't give less of a shit."
"Well, learn to." Scotland snarled in response, "You're so fucking childish! Why the fuck won't you just have a conversation with me?"
"Because you don't deserve my time!" England snapped back, baring his teeth through a grimace, "Frankly it's a miracle I'm giving you the time of fucking day to come up here at all, so just leave me alone so I can do my job and then we don't have to look at each other again until parliament drags you down to London."
England turned around, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his shoulder, which was caught and twisted painfully before it could do anything more than that. Scotland winced in pain, but didn't indicate anything more than that, "Just tell me what the fuck I did!"
England dropped his arm in disgust, "If it really mattered to you, you'd have already worked it out."
Scotland growled once again, following England down the hall as he took off again. "Well, let's imagine for a moment that I'm dumb as shit and have no idea what you're talking about."
"Who needs to imagine," England spat bitterly, "The proof is right in front of my eyes."
"Just fucking tell me!" Scotland yelled, not caring about all of the attention they'd drawn as much as finding out what had made England refuse to speak with him for a solid two months.
"The sword Scotland!" England yelled back, even louder if that was possible, spinning around and nearly making Scotland slam directly into him. The disgusted grimace appeared back on his face, and he snarled dangerously. "The sword I was given by Elizabeth! The one she knighted me with! The one that every monarch except my current one since has knighted me with! The one which I thought I'd lost in the forties during the raids! And the one that you swore in no uncertain terms you had not seen! Ring any bells? It should, because it's been in your house this entire fucking time!"
What sword? Wh- Oh fuck...
Scotland's eyes widened. The sword. Oh fuck the sword!
"England, I-"
"No, shut up! I don't want to hear it! You know how much that sword means to me! For seventy fucking years you let me believe that Germany had blown it to smithereens in the raids, and it was sitting up in your attic under a box full of shit!"
He pushed Scotland away, turning around, before spitting, "Don't try to explain yourself I don't care," with nothing but acidity back at him.
"England, please, Just-"
"I said, leave me the fuck alone, I don't want to talk to you."
When England walked out of there, Scotland didn't follow, but he did manage to spit a venomous "What the fuck are you lot all gawking at?" at the bystanders, before returning to his office, devastated.
He'd fucked up.
Oh god had he fucked up.
North watched England slam the door to his library closed, having come downstairs at the sound of a nation hop. She cautiously followed him into the room, closing the door behind herself and wandering cautiously over to where the back of England's head stuck up over the back of his chair.
"England, sweetheart, are you okay?" She asked, peering around the chair, her eyes widening in horror as she spotted the gritted teeth and tear tracks. "Oh my god! What happened?"
England shook his head, sucking in a wobbling breath. "I fucking hate him." He said pulling his legs up to his chest, "I trusted him, fuck, how could he?"
"Is this about Scotland still?" North asked. She'd heard England wasn't speaking to Scotland from the Northerner himself, but every time she tried to get anything out of England he simply said it was a personal matter. But never had he cried. Oh god, England crying was fucking terrifying.
England nodded, staring blankly into the unlit fireplace in front of him. North clicked her fingers, lighting it so as to better see England's face. The change seemed to be enough to snap him back to reality a little, making him choke out a small nose, "Just leave me be, North, you don't need to see me like this."
She shook her head, "Not a chance, I've sobbed at you before, it's only right you return the favour. Tell me what's wrong."
That seemed to be enough for England because a few moment later, he started talking. "It's nothing. It's fucking nothing in the grand scheme of things but for some reason it means everything and I don't know why but it feel like he's betrayed me on some deep level and I-" He rubbed at his cheeks, "Seventy years, how could he? I saw it in his eyes, he knew it was there, and yet he never told me."
"Have you let him explain himself?" North asked.
England shook his head, "He tried, I mean, I was going to but, I couldn't- He spoke and I just couldn't believe anything he said, even before he'd said it."
Behind her back, North drew a summoning rune in the air, sending it to Wales and hoping he was in a position to join them. Wales was who England needed right now, and North knew that perfectly well, he needed someone who understood him better than North did. Because while North was his sister, she was younger, and she'd never seen this. She didn't know how to handle him when he was like this, because he'd never let her see him like this. Wales had, Wales would.
North didn't even have time to reply to England's statement, before a crack sounded behind her. Wales, patted her on the shoulder and smiled reassuringly before walking around the couch and crouching in front of England. He reached up and cupped his brother's face, "Hey, you little crybaby, what's got you all in a tizzy?"
North backed out of the room, as England explained himself again, closing the door softly.
And then she hopped to Scotland.
That shithead had some explaining to do!
As soon as North arrived, she was summoned to the living room by a slightly slurred voice.
As she entered, she saw Scotland laying back on the couch whiskey in hand, the TV playing silently to itself and the curtains drawn. "I fucked up, North," Scotland said, staring blankly at the ceiling.
"England is in tears, y'know?" North replied tersely.
Scotland grimaced, choking out a weak sob, "I know, I fucked up. I really fucking fucked up."
And with that, all of North's will to be angry disappeared. "What happened?"
"I took his sword. I took it up to Scotland to keep it safe, and I told him it was gone so he wouldn't come looking for it and take it back to London, and then I forgot about it because I'm fucking stupid, and now England's found it and he thinks I took it, and he hates my fucking guts." Scotland rambled his voice cracking every few words with drunken emotion, taking a deep swig from his bottle, "He won't even hear me out, and even if he let me speak he probably wouldn't believe me. I fucking love him so much but he won't even look me in the eyes because I fucked up so bad. I miss him, North, he hasn't so much as looked my way for two months and I want to hug him and kiss him and make love to him and I-" He choked off in a sob.
North hurried over to him, plucking the liquor from his hands, and brushing a hand through his tangled hair. "Hush, hush, darlin'," She cooed, kneeling at his side, "Calm down and sober up, and then we'll work out a plan to get England to listen to you, I'm sure if he just hears what you have to say, he'll believe you. He loves you too Scotland, that's why he's so hurt by this."
Scotland swallowed thickly, "You think so?"
She nodded, smiling gently, "Of course. Now sleep this off, I'm going to get started on a plan to get England to listen to you."
Scotland smiled back, "Thank you!"
"You're welcome bab," she said, kissing his forehead as he closed his eyes.
She sighed heavily. Her family was fucked up, but as perhaps the only partially sane member of the family, it was her job to keep it functional, and by god was she going to do it!
"Stop biting your lips, they'll get sore." Wales scolded, frowning at her before pressing his ear back against the door.
"I'm sorry," North replied, releasing her bottom lip and crossing her arms over her chest, "I'm just nervous, I mean, what if they don't work it out. What will we do then?"
"We'll carry on as we used to, they won't talk to each other and go back to being grumpy sods, we'll deal with it." Wales replied, his face set hard, but north could tell that even though he was being flippant about it he cared just as much as she did.
"Don't tell me you want that?"
Wales scoffed, "Of course not, I might not like them half the time but they're still my family, I prefer them when they're happy to when they're miserable. What I'm saying is that we can't force them back together, if they don't sort this out then we'll just have to grin and bear it. I guarantee it will be harder for them then it will for us."
"And what if this is worse than that?"
Wales frowned at her, "North, Scotland isn't going to leave. I mean, maybe he will, but if he leaves it's not going to be because of this. He'll still be up there, where he's always been."
North nodded, hugging herself tighter, "I know, I know, I'm just- I don't want it to be like when Paddy left..."
"C'mere," Wales said, taking his ear off of the door and walking over to wrap his arms around her, her own arms coming to tightly embrace him in return, "Nothing like that is going to happen. The shit you went through was awful North, we wouldn't let anything like that happen again, no matter how bad things get."
She nodded, sniffing, "I just don't ever want it to come to that. I love our family, it's why I stayed with you guys and not Paddy, and I love him, I do, but I wanted to be with you lot and I-"
"Hush, it's okay, you're here now, and Scotland's not going anywhere."
"You can't promise that."
"I can make a million empty promises to make my little sister feel better."
North laughed, smacking him on the chest, "Shush you! You're supposed to say 'yes, of course I can'," She said, clumsily mimicking Wales' accent, "'Big brother Wales can do anything he sets his mind to, except cleaning his house or getting a date and-"
"Yeah, okay, that's the last time I comfort you," Wales laughed, ruffling her hair, "Feeling better?"
North nodded, "Yes, thank you."
Wales smiled softly, and both of them returned their attention to the door.
"That is the single stupidest excuse I've ever heard in my life."
"I'm not going to pretend it's not."
England sighed, gritting his teeth, "What do you want me to say Scotland? Even if you had my best interests at heart you still managed to forget about it for seventy fucking years."
"I know, I know," Scotland groaned a little desperately, "I'm sorry I took your sword, I thought I was doing you a favour, so much of your stuff got destroyed in the raids, I didn't want you to lose everything so I took a few things and kept them safe. I realize now that was stupid but I was blinded by fear and wartime-haze. You have it back now, please, I'm begging you, can we just-"
England growled loudly, making Scotland stop abruptly, "Oh my god shut up!" He snarled, but before Scotland could get offended or hurt, England dragged him into a tight hug, "Fuck you. I hate you so fucking much, and I wish you'd stabbed yourself with that sword to save me the trouble." His voice was muffled by Scotland's chest, but seemingly went directly to his heart, lifting all of the weight off of it.
He let out a sigh of relief, hugging England back even tighter. "I love you. Fuck. I love you so much. I'm so sorry."
England sucked in a tight breath, reaching his arms up to wrap around his neck instead of his chest, leaning up on his toes to tuck his head into Scotland's neck, "I hate you and I wish you had stayed behind that bloody wall Rome built because then I couldn't love you so fucking much. Eugh!" He growled loudly in frustration, "Oh my god I hate you so much! I hate that I want to kiss every inch of you, and hold you forever and keep you for my own, and I never want to let you go."
Scotland tucked his own head into England's neck, inhaling deeply, but before he could say anything, England turned his head and dragged him into a searing kiss. A kiss which told him in no uncertain terms that everything England had just said was true. And he fell in love three times over.
When England pulled away he brushed a finger over Scotland's jaw, his eyes softly closed, and pressed their foreheads together, "Don't you dare do something that stupid again."
Scotland shook his head, "No promises."
England kissed him again then, softer, warmer, yet somehow more heat-wrenching, "I bloody love you."
And it was said with so much raw emotion that Scotland wanted to cry. He kissed England once more, "I missed you so much."
England kissed him back, with a powerful sense of desperation that sunk straight down to his core, "I want you so badly."
"Then take me."
And not much of the speech afterwards was more coherent than that.
The next day, Wales didn't complain about England and Scotland being disgusting. Nor did North complain they were giving her a cavity. They just played a game of monopoly, and drank a few cups of tea and a few more glasses of beer, and didn't mention anything about the last two months. Eventually they would talk about it. But not right now. Now was a time for peace.