Bad Dreams

~Part 3~

America raised an eyebrow as France walked in.

“Dude, you are so freaking late!”

France put his hands up as he sat down, “My apologies, I was helping Britain,”

“Hm? Where is he?”

“Sick, I guess you could say,”

America shot up, “What?! Is he gonna be okay? Why’d you leave him alone?!”

“Who do you think I am?! He’s not alone, Scotland’s there with him!” France huffed, insulted, “As if I’d leave him alone in the state he’s in,”

“What state? Is he okay? Who the hell is Scotland?” America asked, leaning forward on the table.

“Calm down, America. Aren’t we in a meeting?” France asked.

America sat back down and glanced at Britain’s chair. I knew something was up. He’s been acting so weird.

After the meeting France stopped America before he left the room, “Planning on going to his house?”

“Duh! I want to be there for him if he’s going through something,” America said.

“Give him some time to rest. Scotland’s there so he’ll be fine,”

“Again, WHO THE HELL IS SCOTLAND?”

“Quit asking,” France rolled his eyes. He could easily tell America about Britain’s brothers, but he wanted to see him squirm a little. Necessary? No. Entertaining? Yes.

America folded his arms, “I’m sure I could do just as much as whoever that guy is!”

“I doubt it,” France said, “Britain trusts Scot more than anyone,”

America seemed to tip dizzily. France held back a chuckle.

“Oh? Is little America jealous?”

“Shut-no!” America turned around, “I’m goin’ home!”

France chuckled as America walked off, “That was a bit cruel of me, but oh well,” he randomly pulled out a pad of paper, “Definitely something to keep an eye on. UsUk possible escalation. Gil and Toni will love this,” he frowned a bit, but shook his head, “Well, I might as well go home and get some beauty rest,” he smiled to himself and walked out of the base.

_____________________________

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open, slowly and lazily for once. He could tell someone’s arm was around him, keeping him close to their body, but he couldn’t tell who. He could hear their breathing, and suddenly a scent washed over him.

“Scot?”

“Aye, you’re awake?”

Arthur tried to sit up, but every muscle was sore, “How long have you been here?”

“Awhile. Francey called me,”

“France was here?” Arthur asked, settling back in Scotland’s arm.

“Aye, left a while ago,”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“’Bout two days,”

Britain shot up, wincing at the sudden pain it brought him, “Two?”

“Aye,”

Britain looked over at his older brother, and immediately tears started to fall down his face. He leaned back against his brother and cried silently.