Disclaimer: I own neither Hetalia nor you
One day that'll change
When someone phones your house at two in the morning, that someone won't be telling you something you like.
You knew this to be a fact
Which was why you contemplated letting the call go to the answering machine. You had been in the middle of a nice, restful slumber when that damn shrill ringing woke you. Even if you did pick up the call, you would sound far too grouchy to make any civil conversation.
you repeated in your head, like a mantra. Don't answer. Don't answer. Don't answer.
But, when your imagination led you to think up horrible scenarios that would warrant a pre-sunrise phone call, you found yourself answering the phone.
"Hello?" you said groggily.
"____?" a gruff voice you knew all too well responded from the other end of the line.
"Yeah, Boss?" you replied slowly to your employer.
"I've got a riddle for ye. I got a bloomin' idiot in my pub that won't get out. Who do ye think he could be, huh?"
You pinched the bridge of your nose with your thumb and index finger and sighed loudly.
"Let me guess," you said, "A loudmouthed guy who is smoking a cigar and goes by the name Iain Kirkland?"
"Aye," the man replied.
I'll be right there
After throwing on the first clothes you grabbed from your drawers, you got in your car and set off on the drive to the pub where your "good friend", Iain Kirkland, was making trouble. You were muttering curses as you tried hard not to floor it.
It was moments like this that made you regret ever deciding to move to Glasgow in the first place.
It was a spur of the moment thing, really. You had become doggone tired of your old home and craved something new and exciting. You had always been a fan of Scotland, after reading numerous books and travel brochures on the place. So, after saving up and making the proper arrangements, you found yourself renting a small but cozy little place in the outskirts of Scotland's largest city.
About one week after the move, you were exploring the nightlife of the city when you, quite literally, bumped into a man. You had fallen back and were murmuring a quick apology when he extended a hand to help you up. You accepted the help gratefully.
As you stood, you found yourself staring at the most gorgeous green eyes you had ever seen. They were nearly hypnotizing.
The Scotsman asked if you were alright, jarring you out of your stupor. You regarded the man carefully. He was tall and had messy, shockingly red hair. He had somewhat thick eyebrows but that didn't stop you from mentally classifying him as one of the handsomest men you had ever seen. He was smoking a cigar casually, waiting for you to reply.
You answered that you were fine and he warned you gently to be more careful in the future before going off.
You never expected to run into him again just a few days later, after you had taken up a job at a pub. It was your first day and everything that could go wrong was going wrong. You couldn't help it, since your boss was being rather demanding and the customers were all talking way too fast for you to understand them.
You were close to tears when a particularly rowdy man decided to rant about everything you were doing wrong. Suddenly, said man was punched in the jaw and knocked to the ground. You stared with surprise at that familiar pair of green eyes.
The very same Scot you had met days ago was glaring at the customers in the pub, scolding them all about being so hard on you when you were new to the job. He stuck around and made sure no one else bothered you.
You later learned that the man's name was Iain Kirkland and he was a regular at the pub, as well as a very tough brawler, which would explain how he got everyone under control so quickly.
Long story short, the two of you became rather close friends. He always made sure to be around whenever you had work so that no one would bother you. He constantly entertained you with stories of his family, particularly his little brother in England, whom he loved to mess with but you could tell he cared about him too.
Eventually, the man saw you as such a trusted friend, he confided in you about his true identity
That he was the human personification of the country of Scotland
Now, three years later, you found yourself continually playing the role of trusted friend
By retrieving Scotland when he got way too drunk for his own good.
" you growled under your breath, "You are so lucky that you're such good company!"
As you drove, you shook your head. No
It wasn't because the man was good company, which he was. It was more
So much more
That wide smile that could brighten your day. That laugh that lifted your spirits. That kindness he showed you. That loyalty
You would do anything to preserve all of that
You would do anything for the man who had won your heart
Eventually, you arrived at the pub and marched in, slamming the door open. You searched carefully and quickly spotted that mop of red hair.
"Say that again, ya bas!" Scotland said in a dark tone, his hands in his pockets and his teeth clenching a cigar.
"Back off, ya bampot!" the man that Scotland was arguing with replied, getting in the redhead's face, "I told ye, I don't want to beat ye senseless."
"Want to try me?" Scotland asked, taking his hands out and clenching them.
Before things could escalate, you ran forward and grabbed Scotland's arm.
"C'mon, Iain," you said, using the man's codename so as not to reveal who he really was, "You've drank one too many. I'll take you home."
Scotland was a little unsteady on his feet as you quickly pulled him out of the pub before the other man could say a word. Once the two of you walked a suitable distance away, you let go of Scotland and punched his arm.
"Really?!" you yelled at him, "Honestly, Scotland, this has been the fifth time I've been called to get you in the past two weeks! And last month I was called in forty times!"
You would tell him every single time that he had to cut back, that you were worried about him. But, he would always smile and go off about how he could drink Glasgow and Edinburgh dry without any problems.
"I'm worried about you, Scotland," you said.
Scotland leaned his head in close to yours, furrowing his brow. You felt your cheeks become a little warm at his close proximity. After a minute, a broad smile came to his face.
"Ah, ____!" he said with a laugh, causing the cigar to fall to the ground, unnoticed by the man, "I thought it was ye! How are ye?"
You slapped your hand against your forehead. He had just realized who you were? God, he really was out of it
"Let's get you home, Scotland," you replied, reaching out to grab his arm.
He staggered back, out of your reach, and put a hand in his pocket. He pulled out a set of keys.
"Alright, let's go then!" he said, stumbling away.
"Wait, what?!" you yelled, running after him, "Scotland, you aren't driving!"
"Course I am," he mumbled, "I'm not leaving my car here."
You stood in front of him, blocking his path.
"Too bad," you said sternly, "I'll drop you off at your place in my car, got it? Give me the keys and I'll drop your car off later."
Scotland clutched the keys tightly.
"No way, lass," he replied, "I don't get what ye're on about. I can drive just fine!"
"You can't," you answered, "You're drunk."
"I am not-hic!- jaiked up, ____," Scotland insisted, stumbling when he tried to shuffle to the side to get around you.
"Yes. You. Are," you repeated slowly, stepping forward, "Now give me the keys
"Not on yer life, ____."
"How about on your life?!" you yelled, striding up to him.
He held the hand that had the keys in it over his head, out of your reach. You stood on the tips of your toes, jumped, tried to pull his arm down
Nothing was working. He laughed and his body swayed as you tried to get the keys to no avail. You took a couple steps back and stomped your foot in frustration.
"Damn it, Scotland! GIVE ME THE KEYS!" you yelled angrily.
Scotland stuck his tongue out at you and kept the keys in his hand. You frowned
There was no way you were going to let the man get behind the wheel of a vehicle
You didn't want to lose him.
" you said, getting so close that there was barely an inch of space between the two of you, "
Give me the keys."
Scotland looked down at you, seeming a bit surprised by the vulnerable expression you were giving him. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him, causing him to freeze momentarily.
"I care about you
" you murmured against his chest, "I don't want you to accidentally kill someone
You turned your head up so you could look into his eyes. He was staring at you, completely taken aback by your actions. Was that a faint blush on his face?
"____," he said softly.
You moved your hands to his shoulders and pulled him down to your level.
" you whispered before pressing your lips against his.
You moved your lips against his slowly, sensually
Scotland didn't move a muscle until you pulled yourself even closer to him.
As if something snapped in him, Scotland moved one hand to your waist and pressed your body against his tightly while his other hand went to the back of your head, holding it in place. You sighed as he kissed you passionately, almost desperately.
"Scotland, I-" you began to murmur when he pulled back for a breath of air, only to be cut off by his mouth.
As his lips moved against yours feverishly, you placed one hand on his chest while the other slowly slid down his arm until
"HA!" you cried, ripping yourself away from him.
Scotland stood still, wondering what the hell was going on, when you revealed what was in your hand.
His car keys
"I'll be taking these," you said gleefully, attaching the keys to your own key ring.
You hummed to yourself, happy that you were able to grab the keys while Scotland was distracted. However, you felt something tear at your heart
You were enjoying that kiss
The very first time you had ever kissed him
The first time you ever showed him that you loved him.
He won't remember in the morning though
you thought as you pocketed the keys. He never does. But
He kissed me back. Does that mean he
There was no way. You knew Scotland's hormones raged whenever he got drunk. He probably would have reacted in the same way if any girl on this planet tried to kiss him
"Low blow, lass," Scotland said in a quiet tone.
"Friends don't let friends drive drunk," you replied, a little confused at seeing his rather serious expression.
You gasped when Scotland marched up to you, without staggering in the slightest, and grabbed your face in his hands roughly.
But friends shouldn't toy with friends' feelings either
His hands slowly slid down your neck and rested on your shoulders. He pulled you forward just a bit, never once breaking eye contact with you. As his hands traveled down your arms and arrived at your waist, you couldn't break away from his intense gaze.
He's drunk! your mind screamed. He shouldn't be-?
Scotland smirked raising one hand in front of your face. Your mouth dropped open as he jingled your key ring in front of you.
"A troattered Scot isn't a hopeless one, ____," he laughed, nudging you aside so that he could head off to his car again, "Keep that in mind!"
You turned and stared at his retreating figure for about ten seconds
"GIVE ME THOSE KEYS!!!!!!"
Scotland stumbled forward as you leapt onto his back, your arms wrapped around his neck. While he reached back to try and get you off, you were extending your arms toward your key ring in his hand.
In the midst of the struggle, Scotland tripped and fell on his stomach, with you landing on his back. The impact with the ground caused the keys to fly out of Scotland's hand. The two of you watched with horror as the keys to both of your cars dropped through a sewer vent.
"Oh, great!" you yelled as you got to your feet, "Now neither of us are driving!"
Scotland stood up and dusted off his pants. You were about to scold him like you never scolded anyone before when he suddenly dropped to his knees and fell forward.
"S-Scotland?!" you said with concern, dropping to your own knees to check on him, "Are you-?"
You stopped when you saw that he had passed out. You rubbed your temples with your hands for a minute. You had no keys to either your car or his. He was completely out cold. You had forgotten your phone, so you couldn't call anyone for help. Both of your homes were way too far away
"Do you have any rooms?"
The woman behind the desk at the local inn looked up and could only stare. There you were, asking if there were any unoccupied rooms, in a very nonchalant manner.
As though you weren't struggling to hold up an unconscious young man who reeked of whiskey and cigar smoke
"Aye," the woman replied, deciding it was better not to ask, "One room?"
You were about to say two rooms when you thought about. Scotland
waking up with a major hangover
in a room he didn't recognize
"One room is fine."
With plenty of effort and a hidden strength you never realized you had, you dragged Scotland to the room and were able to lay him down on the couch. You breathed heavily from having dragged the man about forty feet to the inn in the first place, let alone dragging him to the room.
You glanced at Scotland's face. It was so peaceful and innocent
You brushed a few red locks away from his eyes.
"I love you, Scotland," you whispered, leaning down and pressing your lips against his forehead.
With that, you took off your shoes and jacket and climbed into bed. You were exhausted and you no longer wanted to figure out how exactly you were going to get your keys back, wonder about your car or worry about whether or not you remembered to lock the door to your house when you left just two hours earlier.
You closed your eyes, not even bothering to turn off the light. Sleep was what you wanted so sleep was what you were going to get.
Perhaps someone up in heaven didn't want you sleeping. At least, that's how you felt when you heard the bed creak and felt a shift in it.
You opened one eye to gaze at the clock on the bedside table. Six AM
You had left your home at two and had arrived at the inn by around four
You turned to your side and saw Scotland laying on his side, propping his head on his hand and grinning at you.
"What?" you said.
"Nice place ye found," he said, "Any reason why ye put us in the same room?"
"Only because I remember what happened last time I left you alone in a strange room while you were drunk."
Scotland nodded thoughtfully before laying back, his arms crossed beneath his head. Your heartbeat sped up. You and Scotland
In the same bed
You sighed as Scotland reached into his coat and pulled out a cigar and his lighter.
"Do you really have to smoke in here?" you asked.
"I don't see why not," he answered, taking a puff and blowing out a perfect smoke ring.
"I'm surprised you don't have a hangover."
"Give it another hour and it'll kick in
You lay there in silence for a moment. You turned your head to the side, away from Scotland.
"So, ye love me, huh?"
You sat up so quickly, you nearly gave Scotland a heart attack. Your face turned as red as the man's hair.
"Wh-what are you talking-?" you started.
"I told ye a troattered Scot isn't a hopeless one," he interrupted, "I heard ye, ____."
You buried your face in your hands. Dear God, he had heard you? You thought he was out cold! More importantly, you had thought he wouldn't remember anything. He never remembered what he did when he was drunk enough for you to go and retrieve him.
You felt a pair of hands on your own. Scotland gently pried your hands away from your face. You glanced at him shyly. He took the cigar from his mouth and placed it in the ashtray on the bedside table.
"You were drunk!" you moaned.
Well, a wee bit
" Scotland admitted.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Didn't I tell ye before?" Scotland said with a sly smile, "I can drink all of Glasgow and Edinburgh under the table with no issue."
You looked at him
And you suddenly realized
"Are you telling me
All those times I got called in to pick you up
You NEVER ONCE actually needed my help?????!!!!!"
Scotland laughed out loud in reply.
"Nae, not once!"
You pounced at those words. Scotland fell onto his back, with you on top of him, flailing your arms in an attempt to do some damage to him.
"You freakin' idiot!" you yelled as he blocked your hits with his arms, "Do you know how many times I was worried about you?! Why the hell would you go and do a stupid thing like that?!"
Scotland grabbed your hands to stop your attacks. He gave you a gentle smile
The same one he gave you back when he first helped you all those years ago at the pub
" he began, "
I like having ye dote on me."
Your eyes widened at those words. Scotland released your hands, causing your head to fall against his chest. Before you could move, he placed a hand on your back. You shuddered as he trailed his fingers up and down your spine.
"____," he said softly as you listened to his heart beating, "I loved it whenever ye came racin' to the pub because ye thought I was too jaiked up to do anything for myself. I loved when ye would yell at me and tell me to cut back
I love it when ye attacked me earlier to get those keys from me
Without warning, Scotland flipped you onto your back. You gasped as he knelt over you, smiling even brighter.
"I love ye, ____."
Before you could reply, Scotland lowered his head and kissed you. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. You could feel that rush of passion, just like when he kissed you earlier.
"I love you, Scotland," you whispered when the two of you separated to breathe, still close enough that your lips brushed against Scotland's, "I love you
I love you
Scotland kissed your cheek tenderly, then your nose, then your chin
You bit your lip as he trailed kisses down your throat.
" you said, gasping as he bit your neck gently.
" was all you got in reply before he moved his lips against your jawline.
You sighed softly, loving the feelings that were coursing through you
The feelings he was making you have
However, when you felt Scotland's hand slip under your shirt and move up your stomach, you grabbed his wrist.
"Scotland," you said with a playful but warning tone, "I'm nowhere near ready for that."
He gave a disappointed sigh before rolling off of you. He reached over and turned off the lamp to darken the room, a hard feat, considering that the sun was already rising and the light was trickling in under the shades.
"Ye need rest anyway," he said, wrapping a hand around your waist, "Good nicht, ____."
" you said in response as you closed your eyes.
"What? Ye don't trust me not to-?"
You turned and gave him a look. He chuckled and kissed you softly.
Ye can't blame me for trying, lass."