Hetalia Oneshots (Requests Open)

Drunk! Scotland x Reader

Your pov

It was one in the morning and someone was baning on your door very loudly. Sighing, you rolled out of bed and pulled on your favorite fuzzy slippers. Whoever this was better have a good Goddamn reason for waking you up.

Upon opening the door, you discovered a tall, red head standing in front of you, holding one empty bottle of whisky and a half empty bottle of bourbon. You stared at him, wondering how in the hell he had gotten all the way to your house if he was as drunk as he seemed.

"Hullo, (C/N)," He slurred, leaning on the door frame. He reeked of alcohol and he smelled like he had just been dumpster diving.

"What are you doing here at one in the fucking morning, dumb ass?" You snapped. He stared down at you blankly for a minute, hiccuping once.

"'M lost," He managed. You dragged a (S/T) hand down you face as you shook your head. You waved him in but, the second he let go of the door frame, he fell into your arms. Sighing you started to drag him to the living room.

"Come on, Scottie, it's time for bed," You said, sitting him on the couch. It was then that you noticed he was starting to look a little green. Oh hell no, he was not going to throw up on your carpet, not if he was anything like England when he was drunk. You dragged him up and into the hallway bathroom just in time to have him barf on you. You pressed your lips together and sighed through your nose.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," You mumbled under your breath. You sat Scotland next to the toilet and told him to wait there while you went to go change you clothes. Whilst you were hanging clothes, you heard a nasty crash from your bathroom. Immediately, you went scrambling in to find Scotland sitting on the floor with the shower curtain rod in front of him and your shower curtain over his head.

"'m okay," He stated, dragging the thing off of his head. His red hair stuck up at odd angles and he was smiling at you a little bit. This was so weird. The only expression he ever had on his face was a scowl, sometimes it was a smirk if he was in an outstanding mood.

"Dear lord, are you sure?" You asked. He nodded slowly. He was tiring himself out. Good, you thought, if only he could do that without destroying my house in the process.

"Yeah," He said. You hauled him up off the floor and took him into your room, at least you didn't really have much that was breakable there and it had a built in bathroom so if he had to puke, you could move him there.

"I'm going to go call your brother," You sighed, rubbing your eye and yawning. A troubled look crossed his face and he shook his head at you.

"He won't wanna see me," He said, sadly. You sighed and stared at him, annoyed.

"I didn't particularly want to see you either, but here we are," You snapped. He looked down at his hands that had been carefully placed in his lap.

"Do ya hate me?" He asked. He sounded like a child now. Jesus what the fuck's going on? You had never seen him like this. Then again, you had never really seen him drunk before, you'd only heard about it from England and, according to him, Scotland turned into more of an asshole and got much more violent.

You snapped back into your thoughts when he reached out and touched your arm, softly. You jumped, not expecting such a gentle touch from someone like him. He pulled his hand back and sat it in his lap again. He stared up at you seeming so unlike the rude, grouchy, perpetually pissed off person he normally was. Sighing, you sat next to him and placed a hand over top of his.

"No, I don't hate you," You said, sleepily, "I'm not very happy with you right now, but I don't hate you."

"(C/N)?" He said, softly. His accent was so thick, you could barely understand that he had said your name.