I'm sorry it took so long for this one and for any of my stories in general. I got distracted with this and that and was writing a different thing altogether at the same time. Ah, well...

Also, this was really difficult for me to write... I kept getting a slight case of "I can't think of something other than what I've already done..." I was kind of iffy doing this pairing cause my brain just can't see them in a romantic light, despite being perfectly fine with all other pairings... Oh, well, enjoy! :)

Pairing: ScoEng

Angst

Donald arrived at Arthur's house a couple of hours after the phone call. Francis answered the door, grimacing slightly. "Désolé, Donald. 'E demanded to see you…"

"Aye. Ta fer lookin' aifter him. Ah'll take o'er."

Once he had seen Francis off, he went through to the living room where Arthur lounged on the couch, a bottle of beer in his hand. He drunkenly looked up, staring intently at the annoyed Scot for a few minutes. "Don… al'," he mumbled, drunkenly. "You… here. Hey… drink!" He waved the bottle around to catch Donald's attention. In response, the Scotsman moved forward and took it away from him, placing it carefully on the table.

"Ye're drunk. Get up so's Ah can get ye t'bed. We can talk abou' whatever's botherin' ye in the morn."

Fluff

Arthur hugged his knees, trying not to shiver. He would not show himself to be weak to Donald. Not after he had managed to get them trapped in the cabin at this time of year. He sighed quietly, leaning his forehead against his knees. He wondered what they would do if no-one came for them.

Suddenly, something engulfed him. With a gasp, he sat up and the blanket slipped backwards, falling off him. Surprised, he gazed up at Donald who was staring down at him, his face blank. "If ye're cold, use the blankets, eejit."

Humour

Donald glared at Arthur. "Ah'm no gonna let ye win, y'know," he said. He patted Nessie's neck and flashed her a smile. Nessie made a content noise.

Arthur put a hand on his hip. "Uni won't fail. He's a lot faster than that beast."

"Don' ye call Nessie tha'! Ye used to ride 'er all the time!"

Smut

Donald moved his hand so it made its way up and under Arthur's shirt. Arthur gasped but stopped struggling, knowing what was about to happen. "Donald…" he breathed, his tone happy. Donald smirked. For all he denied it, Arthur did love his sex.

He moved his hand up and across until his fingers brushed one of Arthur's nipples. Again, Arthur gasped, this time with more pleasure. Donald smiled and kissed at his neck, the only bit of exposed skin with this top. He lightly continued to brush his fingers over the nipple. Meanwhile, his other hand dropped down to Arthur's waistband. He paused before lowering it to touch his crotch through the cloth of his trousers, feeling him beginning to get hard. He started to move his hand around, rubbing against him.

Au/Crossover (Firefly) (Donald as Mal, Arthur as Inara, Francis as a minor character who's rich.)

Arthur stepped forward, moving between Donald and Francis. "I'm sorry, Francis. He is a bit… excitable. Now, I think we were finalising our deal?"

"Ah, oui," said Francis with a glare in Donald's direction and a nod. "Per'aps we should talk elsewhere, non?" He offered his arm and Arthur took it delicately. He shot a look at Donald who glared back.

"Bastard!" Donald snapped in the Frenchman's direction, annoyed more than he should be. He should really be over Arthur by now… *

[*In Firefly, I think that Mal and Inara had had a relationship which fell apart and now Inara works as a hostess (kind of) and Mal's the captain of the ship she lives on… So…]

(AU where magic is commonplace yet the ones normally with magic are without and considered strange or something like that – it's not that great of an AU)

"What would you like me to cook for dinner?" Arthur asked the assembled guests. Donald's head jerked up, his eyes wide with alarm.

"Ye're no cookin' are ye?! Let… Let Alfred magic us a pizza or somethin'!"

"No, I can't let our guests provide for us. We can cook just as well without magic," said Arthur, dismissively.

Kinky

"Ah, it's so hot!" exclaimed Arthur for the hundredth time. He and Donald were lying in Arthur's back garden. Donald didn't like it so much – the smell of roses was rather overpowering and usually made his head feel fuzzy. Both of them were in swimming trunks, despite not actually doing any swimming – Donald had a St. Andrew's cross on his while Arthur's had a St. George's cross and a Union Jack, one on each side.

"Just eat yer ice cream and stop whingin'," growled Donald, shielding his eyes from the glare of the unnatural sun, his head feeling a lot stranger than normal. He glanced at Arthur as the Englishman licked at his rapidly melting ice cream. It was running down over his hand and, as he took a lick, a little trickled down. Suddenly, Donald found himself kneeling beside Arthur's deckchair, holding his wrist. Before Arthur could say anything, Donald licked up the mess on his hand. Looking up at the other, Donald noticed his blush and grinned, still feeling a little woozy. He leaned up and licked the dribble from the other's chin to the corner of his mouth.

Fetish

Arthur glared at him, blushing. "Why the hell do I have to wear this?!" He tugged at the kilt, feeling uncomfortable. What was worse was that he had been told to leave his underwear off or face the consequences – he had reluctantly followed the orders.

"C'mere," said Donald, pulling him down onto the bed beside him. "Ye'll see soon, son," he said. Arthur frowned at him. His eyes soon widened, though, when he felt a stray hand making its way up his inner thigh. He gasped and tried to pull away. Donald just grinned and held on.

Hurt/Comfort

Gunshots and yells could be heard from outside the medical tent. Arthur stared unseeing at the ceiling, if one could call it that. His arm had been stabbed with a bayonet. The blood had seeped out, darkening his red uniform. No-one was coming to help him – no-one would really care. It didn't matter if he was injured: he would heal soon enough.

"What're ye doin'?!" snapped Donald, his face coming into view. Arthur's eyes focussed on him and he saw the anger there. He didn't understand nor care, looking away. Suddenly, the front of his coat was grabbed and he was pulled up, shaken by the taller man. "Why the hell're ye lyin' aroun' here? Pull yersel' together! Get up!"

First Love

Donald peered around the tree. If it was one of those people who wanted to claim him as their own, he'd definitely give them hell. He was surprised, however, to see a small boy, his blonde hair inexpertly hidden with a black hood. His head was down and he seemed to be trying to get somewhere quickly. Suddenly, though, his foot caught on a rock and he went flying. He landed with a grunt and stayed still for a little while. He slowly sat back up and, after glancing around to make sure no-one was near, he hugged his knees and began to quietly sob.

Donald's heart went out to him. Glancing round, he darted out from his hiding place. "Hey," he said. The startled boy looked up, and hastily wiped at his tears. Donald ignored this and, instead, lifted him into his arms. Again, he ignored the boy's protests and kicks, carrying him out of the clearing and into the thicket, pausing only to cover his tracks.

Fantasy

Arthur and Donald looked at each other. "Well…" said Arthur, looking down at the small, blonde boy. "We're your… guides, I suppose…" The little boy tilted his head slightly, raising a thick eyebrow. "By that, I mean that we will tell you whether your decisions are right or wrong and encourage you to do the right thing… Ah, and… I suppose we need to teach you how to use your magic…"

"Och, what're ye talkin' about?" said Donald with a grin. "Ah'm gonna encourage him to hae fun and no be as stuffy." He gave Arthur a wink as the blonde man glared at him.

Horror

Donald gasped as something sliced into his leg. He pulled it away, shooting his rifle wildly. The bullet smashed through the creature's skull and the thing collapsed. But another one was close behind.

"Donald!" exclaimed Arthur, hesitating, staring at horror as he fought them.

"Arthur! Run!" shouted Donald, blocking the zombie's way into the house. "Get outta here!" He pushed the female zombie away before bringing the rifle up and expertly shooting her in the head. Her skull collapsed and she fell backwards and into the path of the others.

Adventure

Arthur looked at the map, annoyed at the bad luck he and his men had had so far. As such, he was now alone on the island. His men had abandoned him, opting to stay on the ship and divvy up the treasure they had already found. He glanced up to check where he was and found a grinning red-head.

"You!" Arthur snapped, irritated to find that Donald had arrived. "How did you get here?"

"Made a copy o' the map, di'n't I?" he replied with a chuckle. He shook a piece of paper at him. "An' what are ye doing, leavin' yer First Mate behind?"

UST（Unresolved Sexual Tension）

Donald glared at Arthur who also glared at him for a moment more before turning and going to the kitchen. Donald rolled his eyes. All he wanted was some whisky and a few biscuits – nothing more, really. He didn't understand why it was such a big deal to the Englishman…

"What is it exactly you would like to eat?" asked Arthur, appearing suddenly and breaking Donald out of his reverie. He had slung a pink apron around his neck and was carrying a bottle of Scotch whisky and a glass. He set them carefully down on the coffee table and began to fumble with the apron, trying to tie it on.

Donald stared. Why was he starting to feel rather strange? And why on Earth did Arthur look so damned feminine in that apron? He tried to answer but his voice gave out. He cleared his throat and said, "Just biscuits or somethin'." Arthur nodded and, as he left, Donald crossed his legs carefully…

Future

Arthur stood in the doorway, not looking at Donald, obstructing his way. The red-head studied him. The Englishman seemed to be holding back several emotions. He would probably cry either way. "Well?" he said, his tone a little snappy. "What have you decided?"

Donald held back a sigh. He really didn't want to tell him. Not at the door at least.

"Can Ah come in?" Arthur shook his head. "Ye really wanna know here?" Arthur nodded, glancing at the Scot. Finally, he sighed. "Ah'm sorry, son. Ah'm goin' ta leave ye…"

Suspense

Donald grinned and gripped the knife: time to kill the son of a bitch who had killed his brother. He walked across the room to where the man was slumped. He was dressed all in black and wearing a balaclava. He looked ridiculous in Donald's opinion. He gripped the front of his sweater and pulled him up so that he dangled.

"Why'd ye kill 'im?! Why'd ye kill ma brother, ye bastard?!" Then he tucked the knife into his belt and reached out to pull up the balaclava.

"Wait, Don-!" exclaimed the man, cutting himself off, reaching up to hold the Scot's hand at bay. Donald hesitated. It reminded him of Arthur calling him 'Don-Don' when he was a bairn. His eyes widened slightly. Could it be? Was it possible?

Death

"I thought you had quit?" said a voice. Donald turned around and spotted Arthur a few steps behind him. Flying Mint Bunny was on his shoulder. The Englishman nodded towards the cigarette in his fingers. Donald just shrugged. "What are you doing here? The government is deciding your fate right now. You should be there."

"Ah already know their decision. Independence di'n't really work fer me…" The red-head turned back to the waters and, finally, the thing he had been waiting for happened. The water seemed to erupt as a large green head emerged from the loch. "Nessie…" he breathed with a smile, reaching out to pat her head. There was a brief moment of silence before Donald spoke again. "Arthur… Ah want ye t'take care o' Nessie for me, okay?" He turned to Arthur and his eyes seemed to be vacant, as if he wasn't there. As if he had already gone…