DAMN MY LEG! - ScotEng Bromance Fluff

Damn My Leg!

"OH, FUCK!" England's yell resonated through the house. His brothers, who he had invited over for the day, came rushing down the stairs into the living room.

"What the hell, England?" Wales asked as England writhed on the floor in agony. Scotland and Northern Ireland hoisted him onto the sofa and stared him down. All the colour had drained from England's face, which was scrunched up. Tears were threatening to spill out his eyes and he was clutching his ankle, which was swelling up and twisted at an awkward angle. He was kicking the air with his good leg and he was rocking back and forth in an attempt to distract himself from the pain he was experiencing.

"Come on," Northern Ireland urged, "try to suck it up and tell us what happened."

"Thanks a lot for the sympathy, North," England retorted in annoyance, "I was about to sit down, but then my leg got caught on the chair, I fell over and wrenched my ankle on my way down. And, now I can't feel below my ankle, but above my ankle is hellfire."

"Oh, that's shitty, mate," Scotland murmured, "that would be pretty bad if you were human, but that should take a few hours to heal, so we'll get you upstairs onto the bed and leave you to it."

"That wouldn't be a problem if I didn't have a World Meeting in fifteen minutes, Scotland."

"Oh, that's right, I totally forgot about that," said Scotland, "what are we going to do, then? Do you think you can skip the meeting?"

England shook his head fervently, "No, no, I have to discuss Brexit with the EU countries," he replied, "there's no way I can miss this one."

The brothers thought for a few moments, "One of us will have to drive him to the meeting," Wales told Scotland and Northern Ireland.

Northern Ireland started to look a little guilty, "Yeah... about that..."

Scotland groaned, "North, what the fuck did you do?"

"I kind of drove the car until it ran out of petrol, and there isn't enough fuel to reach the meeting hall..."

Scotland, Wales and England groaned collectively, "Damn it, North!" they all said at the same time.

"Sorry..."

"How will we get England to the meeting now?" Wales asked no one in particular.

A small smirk came onto Scotland's face, "I have an idea... but first, we should treat England's ankle."

They took a few minutes to wrap up England's leg, which had prompted so much pain on the blond nation's part that tears began to drip out of his eyes (anyone who knows England knows it takes a lot of emotional or physical pain to make him cry). After that process, Wales glanced at his watch and frowned.

"There's not much time until the meeting, we need to hurry it up."

"Alright," Scotland said confidently, "Let's go, Iggy!"

"Don't call me that," England half-heartedly argued, "it's bad enough when America does it..."

"Not now, Iggy," Scotland shot back, "we have to go."

He hoisted England up and tried to ignore his brother's wince and yelp of pain. He walked England to the front door, letting his little brother lean on him as he limped along. Once they stepped out of the doorway, Scotland closed the door and lifted England up onto his back, not paying any attention to his surprised exclamation of protest.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" England squeaked.

Scotland looked at him as if he had just asked the dumbest question ever, "Well, it's not like you can walk, and the car isn't an option. This is the easiest way to get you there, all right? Oh crap, it's raining. Typical British Isles behaviour," Scotland put up a bright blue umbrella that showed his patriotism and continued walking along the street, "it's not too far from here to the building we have to go to."

"Urgh," England groaned, "fine..."

Scotland casually strolled down the road effortlessly, despite the full-grown man lying on his back. England was so flushed with embarrassment, Scotland could practically feel the heat from his face on the back of his neck. He blushed furiously all the way to the meeting. Scotland looked at his watch.

"Looks like we'll make good time."

"G-good," England muttered, "but, can you just go faster, please? This is so embarrassing, I don't anyone to see me like this."

Scotland gasped in mock horror, "I am so offended! How could my own flesh and blood not want to be seen with his incredible and ridiculously handsome big brother?!"

England smiled a little at his eldest brother's antics, "Shut up," he said playfully.

A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination. England told Scotland to go in, and they went into the lift to go to the top floor, because there was no way Scotland would go up that amount of stairs. England wasn't late, but he was later than he usually was. He suddenly realised that most of the nations, with the exception of a few of them, didn't know who Scotland was. Oh. America hadn't met Scotland. That would be a pain in the ass.

Once they got to the top floor, Scotland had to use a ton of effort to open the heavy door whilst keeping England on his back.

While he was struggling, he smirked, and randomly mentioned, "I used to give you piggy-back rides like this when we were younger."

England frowned, "I don't remember that ever happening..."

Scotland's face showed a hint of guilt, "Yeah, you were just a tiny baby, after that, I started to be a dick."

England smiled with a hint warmth, "Nice to know you cared at some point."

Scotland finally managed to open the door, no thanks to England, who refused to try to get down and help. The normal arguments that took place at a World Meeting screeched to a halt as the door creaked closed behind the British brothers. Everyone stared at them as England quietly told his older brother which way to go to get to his chair with the fun label on the desk that said "United Kingdom." England was suddenly extremely aware of the awkward fact that he was getting a piggy-back ride from his brother. He silently slipped off Scotland's back and into his chair. Neither he nor Scotland said a word and an uncomfortable atmosphere was very easily created.

France broke the silence by saying, "Nice to see you again, mon ami."

Scotland gave him a curt nod and replied, "Nice to see you too, France."

America spoke up, "Who's this guy, England?" he asked, "and why were you on his back?"

"He's my oldest brother, Scotland," the English man explained, "And as for the second question, I was on his back because... I... well... hurt my leg... and the car was out of petrol..." England's face reddened once again.

England looked across the room and saw his older sister, the Republic of Ireland, smirking and holding back laughter, "Republic, I swear to God, if you tell Wales or North, I will murder you," he turned to Scotland, "Same goes for you." Scotland gave him an understanding look.

"So..." Scotland began.

"What?" England questioned.

"You know I'll have to do this back home, right?"

"Shit."