All aboard HMS ScotEng!

Drew this awhile back and decided to put it up. Gotta love Scotland + England~

Arthur hadn’t been too big on rugby for about a decade now, but when he’d opened the front door to a grinning Scotland armed with enough ale and cheap cider to keep a whole stadium happy, he found a new appreciation for the Mangers League.

            They bet (no money, only “favours”), drank, and Arthur could not remember the last time watching a match together had been this enjoyable.

            Or, for his great displeasure, a time when Edinburgh had played better.

“Obstruction!”

“You wish, you scunner! The Irish are shite and you’re going down with them!”

chibi Scotland and Mochi UK <3 

Title: Somebody Save Me!

Rating: T

Words: 2.8K

Paring: ScotEng

(Sure! I’m always taking requests. I’m sorry it took me so long but icouldn’t decide between two proposals so i kinda had to write both. I’ll postthe sencond one later today!)

Scotland woke one September morning tangled in thin sheets and with thewarmth of England’s breath on his throat. Curtains still drawn, the worldoutside was just beginning to lighten with the soft light of morning.

Rather than leaving the bed in favour of an early start he shifted,bringing Arthur closer to his chest and securing an arm tighter around hiswaist, hand coming to rest near his hip where Arthur’s shirt had ridden up toexpose warm skin. There was no need to rush, but he began to trace patternsthere, small circles and longer sweeps of his thumb back and forth over a palescar, until Arthur began to shift, his breathing breaking its pattern as heburied his face further into the crook of Alasdair’s neck. 

“Arthur,“ Alasdair’s voice was rough with sleep and low. “Arthur.” 

Arthur’s muffled reply was lost to him but not the slugish press of lipsto the underside of his jaw. Alasdair felt a smile tug at his lips and didn’tthink to stop it.

“Good morning to you,“ and a scoff from Arthur.

“S’ too early.“

Alasdair’s response was a wider smile and a kiss to England’s temple.

“Nae. It’s not,“ he yawned and rolled over to pin Arthur underneath him.“It’s long coming.“

Arthur raised an eyebrow underneath him.

“Whatever are you on about,“ he followed Alasdair’s lead, smiling and raising a hand totangle in Scotland’s hair. “Is it?”

Scotland looked deep into England’s eyes, leaned into the hand in hishair.

“Aye,“ he pecked England’s nose good-naturedly. “It is.“

“Come on,“ he threw the covers off and jumped out of bed, followed byEngland’s half-hearted groan.

Not too long after they were heading outside to the light drizzle of theHighlands in the early morning, armed with sturdy boots and thick flannels. Theonly times when Scotland could be arsed to wake before England were days likethese, when there was nowhere to go and no one to meet, the skies overcast butthe day clear. They’d walk for miles, more often than not, silently matchingeach other’s pace until mid morning caught them heading back to Scotland’scabin for some breakfast and then fall back into bed.

Arthur was the first to step out into the pleasant cold and had to do adouble take when he caught Scotland strapping a backpack on after shutting thedoor.

Alasdair caught his stare and shrugged, looking away.

“Just a few things. You’ll see,” he ruffled his hair.

It took Arthur miles to recognise the path Scotland had carefully ledhim to.

But centuries could pass and he’d still recognise the holed standingstone before them.

He barely registered the warmth of Alasdair’s hand pressed to his lowerback, leading him towards the stones. But then the hand was gone and so wasAlasdair who’d gone to stand behind the stone, as red as the brightest shade ofhis hair in the sun.

It took Arthur another moment tonotice the same hand waiting for his through the hole in the stone.

Alastair rested his forehead against the cold, weathered surface andclosed his eyes, attempting to time the deafening beats of his heart to hisbreathing. The drizzle had turned into heavier rain and he felt chilled.

He waited (half expected Arthur to walk away steps quick and heavy), butsuddenly there was a hand in his, tentative, but warm and solid, and Alasdair’sheart threatened to burst.

He felt the sting of tears threaten to blur his vision and tightened hisgrip on Arthur’s hand.

“Thabharfainn fuil mo chroí duit.”

Arthur’s brittle laugh was beautiful from behind the stone.

“Tha gaol agam ort.”

————–

One very traditional celtic proposal for our boys. According to local folklore, lovers would clasp hands through the holed standing stones to vow their love; some of them taking part of this custom to swear their wedding vows in secret, others as a promise to the other.

“I would give the blood of my heart to you.“