Ireland and his brother, Scotland, were out at a bar, laughing and drinking to their hearts' content. There were other countries, but no one that either paid any mind to.
A little ways in, Ireland had the wondrous idea of trying a harder liquor. Scotland agreed, and they ordered something harder.
A bottle of vodka each and they were wasted. Scotland was mumbling drunkenly to himself, while Ireland was getting handsy with his brother.
Imagine his Irish accent yourselves cuz i cant do it :)
"Watch yer hands t'ere, mate," Scotland slurred.
"How could I when you have such a beautiful body," Ireland said, slipping off his stool. "It's a wonder how you're not taken," he said, "even I would try."
Scotland chuckled, "Is this yer wey o' confessin' yer feelin's?"
"Maybe," Ireland giggled. "You say words weird, lad."
"Shut yer trap an' kiss meh," Scotland said, shoving his lips to Ireland's. Ireland smiled, and kissed back, holding Scotland close. He was sat up on the bar counter in the corner, being pushed against the wall.
It was a sloppy, drunken kiss, but was passionate at the same time. The bar quieted as they kissed, soft sounds of displeasure coming from a few Blanks.
Scotland and Ireland parted, looking into each other's eyes. Ireland had never, noticed, but in Scotland's blue eyes, there were swirls of white. His hand moved to Scotland's cheek, holding it gently.
"I love yeh," Scotland said, his heavy accent slipping through.
"I love you, too," Ireland said, his voice slightly hoarse.
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