Family Ties [Prologue]
Characters (in this chapter): England, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland.
Rating: 15 for the Brit Bro's mouths.
Warnings: Scotty and Iggy swear, there's sensitive politics, but this is Hetalia, and if you are easily offended this is really not the fandom for you. >>
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone.
“No, fuck you, ye fuckin’ bawbag, I’ve had it up to ‘ere with your ruddy tax increases and yer fuckin’ attitude.” Shouted Scotland, despite being all of three inches from his southern brother’s face and poking him hard in the chest. He was leaning over the table, hand resting just shy of the mashed potato dish. Northern Ireland and Wales shared a look as England turned progressively redder.
“The economy’s in the bog right now, there’s nothing I can do but increase taxes!” he yelled back, hand closing round a butter knife but not really moving to do anything with it. “And if we’re talking about my attitude, why don’t you do something about yours! This is meant to be a nice family meal!” He gestured with the knife around the table, all nicely laid out, despite the poorly cooked food, every attempt at a domestic meal.
Northern Ireland, in a bout of rare sensibility, raised his hands as the knife pointed at him unintentionally. “Er, now lads, let’s not be stupid about this.”
“Shut up, Éibhear.” The fighting brothers growled in unison. The youngest nation at the table gave Wales an imploring look, which he returned with a shrug. Best not to get too involved with this. It would probably blow over anyway. Suddenly, Scotland pulled back, and started storming out of the room. England pursued.
“Oi wanker, I’m not done with you! Where’re you going!” the nation called after his brother.
“I’m so sick of ye righ’ now, I cannae stand to look at yer ugly mug!” the ginger man returned, pulling on his coat in the doorway. England turned a very nasty shade of crimson.
“Well then maybe you should just leave!” he shrieked, now most definitely brandishing the butter knife threateningly. Scotland paused in pulling on his gloves, and gave his younger sibling a long look.
“Tat’s the best idea ye’ve ever had.” He deadpanned, before slamming the door with a fatalistic thud.
- Éibhear's name is pronounced "Ay-ber".