Hello there! Just thought I should say, this is my first fanfic and I'm pretty scared about posting it :} It's been sat in my documents for 2 weeks now and I've finally pricked up the courage to post it…

Ignore my terrible grammar . Im not trying to find excuses but I am dyslexic so sometimes I get the wrong where's and were's plus sentence structure so if there's anything you think 'wow that's terrible' please tell me in the comments

This is a Scotland x England fanfic with a side order of USUK… Many change depending on how I feel xD More people should do Hetalia stories that involve smexy Scotland dammit so go look at some fan art and get inspired!

There is abuse in this fic just so your warned and it might get worse hence the rating. I don't condole abuse, I just like writing about it :/

I DON'T OWN HETALIA! (if I did the main character would be England who would frequently get in with America)

Thanks for Nothing

It was raining in Britain, which was expected for the island nation. Arthur Kirkland ran to his booked taxi, holding his leather briefcase over his head. His flight had just arrived in Gatwick airport from the world summit meeting in Greece, and although he hadn't had as long as flight as America or Japan, Arthur still felt pretty shattered. Listening to Alfred blabber on about god know what does that to people, but luckily Arthur's home was just on the outskirts of west London so it wasn't too long a drive. In no time the car was pulling up at his estate.

It wasn't a small house; quiet the opposite to be exact. The estate was Arthur's pride and joy, taking care to maintain a flawless garden and authentic Victorian feel, without losing the modern charm of the average British home. The house it's self was a sandstone colour with ivy decorating most of the walls and leaving gaps where the grand windows lured through. It was very pretty. The drive was long and gravelled, leading to a circular driveway right outside the massive grand oak door painted a tradition red.

Of course to preserve such a wealthy home, England was forced to employ staff to keep the house in prime condition. That's why he wasn't surprised to see the lights on in the house when the car came to a complete halt.

After extravagantly tipping his taxi driver, Arthur briskly made his way up the stone steps leading to the front door, still avoiding the rain with his brief case. He cursed and reminded himself to remember his umbrella next time. 'Damn this unpredictable weather' he cussed.

Fumbling with his keys, he finally got the large door moving on its axis and Arthur hastily made his way in the house, closing the door as he went. He hung his coat and hat on the coat rack and removed his shoes, replacing them with dark blue slippers. Arthur started making his way to the kitchen to pour a lovely cup of earl grey he'd been craving all night, but that's when he smelt it…

That unmistakable smell. The smell of big brother Scotland's cigarettes.

England froze up. 'What is he doing here?' he thought, as he debated what to do. It was never a good sign Scotland being round. After all the conflict that had happened in the past the guy always seemed to have it in for Arthur, finding some reason to yell or be violent toward him, especially after a few drinks.

Facing the problem head on, England followed the smoke through the house and came to the dining room. The room mainly consisted on a large mahogany table with many matching seats surrounding it, beautiful burgundy silk drapes covering the windows and detailed paintings hanging across the walls. If Arthur ever had company round, this is where they would dine.

Scott was slung on one of the seats, legs carelessly thrown over the table, cigarette in mouth and bottle in hand. England eyed the bottle precariously, swearing inside noticing not only was in taken from his own private drinks cabinet but there was a large amount of the liquor missing.

Scotland slowly raised his head to the sound of the door creaking open, eyes glaring in slits at Arthur sudden entry. "Artie, nice of you to join me" Scott slurred, swinging the bottle round carelessly flicking the whisky over the carpet and table.

"Scotland! What the bloody hell are you doing here, have you seen the time and you can't just come round when ever you want. You should call or at least ask my permission and stop that. You're getting my whisky everywhere!"

Yelling at the man Arthur new was a mistake, but right then and there he couldn't care less. It had been a long and tiring day and the last thing he wanted to deal with was his rude, obnoxious big brother.

Scotland smirked at England fierce temper, enjoying the tense atmosphere that always seemed to occur when the two were together. He chuckled dangerously, head tilting to the side. "Well Artie, seeing as you're the one who represents the United Kingdom at those stupid world meetings, it only seemed fair to come collect my report on what went on." He paused only to take a deep long drag of the cigarette resting on his lips.

"Let's have it here then", Scott demanded holding out his right hand.

It was true, England did represent the UK at all the meetings. It wasn't that the others weren't allowed to but it just made things easier if Arthur copied up the notes and gave them out to his brothers. It seemed strange to Arthur that Scott was demanding his copy of the discussed events now because normally he'd show the least bit of interest. Once England had even found Scott's notes in the bin minutes after Arthur had handed him them.

'It's probably just his excuse to come down here and bother me' thought England but he thanked the heavens that he'd already copied the notes up for them which he did on the plane. Popping his brief case on the table, England undone the metal buckles holding it together and reached inside to find a damp stack of papers.

'What?' he gasped, before looking inside to see all his documents ruined and washed out by water. 'I thought this bag was waterproof!' he cussed, pulling out the desired pages and examining the splattered and smudged ink.

"What's up?" question Scotland. "Haven't taken the notes?" His voiced sounded unnaturally sly, sending shivers down England's spine.

"Well I did, but the rain must have got into my brief case so they're ruined, so if you don't mind I'll have to send you them after I've got Austria to send me his copy. I think I saw him taking notes so-"

England rant was cut off by the large whisky bottle slamming on the table "What the hell you useless idiot? You had one job to do in yah stupid meeting and you can't even do that!"

Scotland stood up, knocking the chair to the floor in the process, and marched over to England and before the smaller could react, his body had been roughly shoved into the wall behind where Scott proceeded to pin him.

"Get off me you prick!" growled Arthur. "I was doing you a bloody favour taking those notes for you and it's not like you care what's on them anyway you lazy-"

Yet again, England's rant was shortened, but this time, by and angry fist making contact with the side of his face. Scotland kept him up right but the hit left Arthur's ears ringing and a need to fall to the ground. But Arthur wasn't going to crumble to this bully.

It wasn't the first time Scotland had hit Arthur. When they were young, Scott was cruel, to the extent of killing England's pets and verbal abuse but never did Scott lay a finger on the child. Then as Arthur grew and became more powerful Scott changed. Hard shoves, bumps and knocks proceeded and then in resent years, Scotland began to punch and slap him.

England didn't mind. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle and he new it was only because Scotland was insecure about the strength of his nation. The fact England was so strong despite being the younger brother scared Scott so to keep England off his case he kept him away with fear. It was working. England could empathise with Scotland, relating it to his and America's relationship so there was always sympathy towards Scotland whenever the man would raise his fists.

"You little prick! Thinking you're so mighty and high, better than your older brothers but you're just a pathetic, ugly twit!"

The verbal abuse was always there but it normally didn't affect Arthur for he'd learnt to tune most of it out from a young age. 'Now Scott would forget all about those stupid notes and go off on a complete tangent; balling and hitting until he tired from the drink and went home' thought England as that's what usually happens…

"No wonder all your bloody colonies left you! You're a useless brother!"

That hit home.

"Shut the hell up!" screamed Arthur giving the Scotsman and shove off him into the table.

Arthur already regretted that as he new not to talk back to Scotland when he's in one of these states never mind push him. Scott just looked like he'd won the lottery. "Ha-ha. Final hit a nerve have I?" he taunted. "Or maybe you're so distressed because you know I hit the nail on the head right?" He laughed, still grinning like a cat.

Then out of nowhere, he pounced on Arthur, throwing him to the floor, and straddled his small waste. One arm took Arthur's hands, the other took his cigarette from his mouth and he leaned over, so there noses were almost touching and whispered, "the truth hurts doesn't it Artie?"

That sent Arthur into a wave of anger as he struggled with his captor, kicking and wriggling. Just trying to get the nation off him. Scotland quickly tired of his attempts of escape and placed the end of his cigarette just above England collar bone, and proceeded to push down.

There was a pause, as Arthur slowly registered what was happening before he felt the burning sensation in his neck as the skin melted. He gritted his teeth to stop himself screaming and instead hissed painfully through his teeth. Disappointed by England's lack of sound, Scott resorted to a quick jab to England's gut, making him try to curl over, but with Scotland's heavy weight on him he was going nowhere. 'Gah! I can't breathe.' Arthur thought feeling winded and he couldn't catch his breath at all.

"Aren't you a disappointment then England?" sniggered the elder.

"A couple of punches and a burn and your whimpering like the stupid mutt you are! It's disgusting to think I'm related to that sorry excuse for a nation!"

England, finally breathing normally, glared up at him, and if looks could kill, Scotland would be long gone, but all England got was a hard slap to the face. "Don't look at me like that you little shit" yelled the Scotsman and then he got to his feet and viciously kicked Arthur twice in the chest.

Arthur gasped in pain but was grateful to feel no broken ribs as he got to his feet. Scott had made his way back to his seat and was downing more of the whisky bottle.

"Fuck off," slurred Scotland. "I can't stand to look at your worthless face any longer!"

Arthur didn't need to be told twice. He quickly turned and almost ran to the door but just as he was reaching for the handle, something hard and big hit the back of his head sending him flying forwards into the doorway and crumpling to the floor.

His vision blurred and he could feel a splintering headache coming from the back of his skull. Looking up, Scotland was still sat in his seat, not even acknowledging Arthur's dilemma, but Arthur determinedly got back to his feet, after putting his hand in the remnants of a broken whisky bottle that had covered the floor.

The man slid out the door, before making his way upstairs and to his master bedroom where he slept. Arthur shut the door to his room, made his way to the bed and fell on to the old mattress, and darkness overtook him .

It had been a long day…

Soooo… shall I continue? I've got some ideas