Family Comes First

America walked into the meeting hall late, nothing new there, but what was new was the surprising lack of open seating where the world power normally took his place near a certain English nation. Most of the rest of the world, after turning their attention momentarily at America's obnoxious entrance, went back to their own personal conversations and didn't seem to register the same alarm that America was feeling. Where was his seat? Or more specifically, seeing as the chair itself was still there, who was the guy who had the audacity to sit in the hero's spot? Alfred had no clue?

Speaking of which, the adjacent seat where England normally sat was also empty. Where was England? Oh well, he supposed it didn't really matter, Arthur would show up soon, his notes were already spread out neatly on the table before his empty chair so he was clearly somewhere in the building. France, who sat to England's other side, was present and seated and was discussing something with Prussia and Spain who were standing nearby. He didn't seem to think anything of the person sitting in America's chair either. The hell?

It might have seemed a simple thing, where a nation sat during a world meeting, but in truth it meant a lot. Who you sat next to during the world conferences was a sign of who you were closest to, who you trusted, and who meant the most to one another. England always, and by that Alfred meant always sat between America and France. Canada sat on France's other side, and surprisingly enough Ireland sat on America's other side. He was still Arthur's brother after all. Germany always sat next to North Italy and Japan. These were things that never changed over the decades. To have some guy sitting in Alfred's chair... well that meant someone was closer to England than him! And yet no one seemed to be batting an eye.

The normally cheery superpower felt something akin to rage slowly begin to build. Whoever this was sitting there and conversing with Ireland like it was nothing was about to learn a lesson. Alfred's bright blue eyes darkened the slightest bit and his grin turned malicious as he stalked up behind what he considered his usurper. Forcing on a cheery exposition , Alfred placed a hand down on the man's shoulder to announce his presence. The nation's conversation with Ireland ceased, and a head of blood red hair turned to face America with familiar green eyes. A thick red brow rose as the pale-faced nation eyed the American. "Problem?" he asked irritably with some strange variation of a British accent.

"Hahaha" America gave a strained laugh and tightened the grip his hand had on the other's shoulder enough that it would cause Germany to flinch, but the man acted as if he didn't even feel it. Alfred's fake grin finally dropped. "You're in my seat dude" he stated coldly. The odd steel in the American's voice caught the attention of the other nations in the room, and all present grew strangely silent, eager to observe the events taking place. The red head's disinterested look turned to a wicked grin at the admission.

"Oh really?" he asked, quickly flipping the chair around so that he could cross his arms and lean down on the wooden back to face the angry American.

"Yeah."

"And what makes you think that?" America noticed how Ireland was wearing a grin to match the other's and was eyeing Alfred like a piece of meat about to be carved up.

"Because he's my brother" Alfred stared silently while the other nation dug into the back pocket of his blue uniform with two crossed white straps and withdrew a cigarette, which Ireland was quick to light for the other, before taking a slow drag and blowing the dark smoke in Alfred's face, causing him to grimace.

"Bullshit" he finally said and Alfred's eye twitched.

"Excuse me?" The tension in the room was so palpable that any nations currently standing were at this point backed up against the walls of the meeting room while those already seated were too frightened to move.

"Albion has three brothers and you aren't one of them" the other leaned even more against the back of the chair and America cursed himself for taking a step back.

"Oh and you are!" Three simultaneous facepalms could be heard somewhere to America's right and left; those belonging to Ireland, France, and Canada. All of which knew exactly who this nation was and knew that it was not a good idea for America to pick a fight with him. Said nation along with Ireland looked momentarily dumbfounded by the young nation's ignorance.

"Oh aye" the redhead stood to his feet and threw the spent cigarette to the ground before grounding it out with the heel of his black military boots. The action left black burn marks in the carpeting, but no one was going to complain. Alfred was surprised to find the other to be just the slightest bit taller than himself as they stood eye to eye. "The name's Scotland you ignorant brat." America blinked in realization. Scotland, he was England's oldest brother. One of the ones who's fault it was that Arthur had never liked him calling the other 'big brother' when he was just a colony. And that realization only deepened America's desire to reclaim his seat from him.

Alfred crossed his arms. "In that case you're definitely in the wrong spot. I might not have met you before, but I've heard enough to know that I'm more of a brother to England than you've ever been." It was a bold statement, but one America was confident enough making. Scotland didn't take the bait, but Ireland turned red with anger and jumped to his feet, knocking his own chair over in the process. America readied for the ginger to attack him, but Patrick Kirkland was stopped when Scotland lifted his arm to cut the other off.

"Relax Éire, no need to dirty your own hands over this. The brat's not even worth it" Scotland's eerie calm was unsettling for all present. Scotland was a hot head and everyone knew it, yet for some reason he was showing restraint.

"Why you" the American seethed.

"Let's make something clear" Scotland stepped forward until he and America were just inches apart. "I am and will always be Arthur's brother. You..." he gave the other a quick once over with his eyes with an unimpressed expression. "You are nothing but an upstart who calls himself a hero when he hasn't seen half the shit everyone else in this room has. Albion may have had his ups and downs with me and our other siblings but we have been there for each other long before you were even some drunk explorer's pipe dream." Scotland stepped back and propped a foot on the argued over chair and rested his arm over the bent knee. "I might have let you fill in my spot while I've been too busy to bother attending these stupid meetings, but it is mine nonetheless. Your spot is over there with your brother." Scotland pointed to the vacant seat to Canada's right.

"Who?" America tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"CANADA! Your brother you idiot!" It was surprising how this was the thing to upset Scotland the most of everything America had said so far but the redhead was quick to recompose himself with a deep breath.

"And if I disagree?" the young nation challenged, balling his hands into tight fists.

"Blood is thicker than water."

"And I wonder just how much was spilled between you two" Alfred spit back.

"Don't play innocent America. Let me remind you that between the two of us you were the last to go to war against my little brother. Not once, but twice." America flinched back at that.

"Hey it was me who came and saved all of you at the end of WWII. If it wasn't for me you might not even be here!"

"Oh you mean when you waited years to get involved? When you sat there observing as my brother writhed in agony during the Blitz!? Who was it who sat by his bedside and held his hand then huh? I'll tell you, it was me."

"I wanted to help! My boss wouldn't let me!" America was shouting at the top of his lungs at this point. The other nations who were watching the confrontation kept flickering their gazes between the two arguing and the open doorway. Wondering where the hell England was and if someone should go and fetch him before the two volatile countries came to blows and demolished the whole place.

"Doesn't matter. Fact is, that as much as you might want to, you will never replace me."

"Maybe we should ask England what he thinks?" There was very little America was able to retort with. All the things Scotland was saying was true, but there was one more thing he could try. "I bet he'll pick me." Scotland glared darkly and Ireland was fuming.

"Amerique, perhaps that is enough" France finally decided to try and step it. Unfortunately, it was far too late.

"Stay out of this France" he ordered, not looking away from the older Brit for a second.

"Albion will always choose me." Scotland stated with utmost confidence, standing at his tallest and looking down his nose at the American. Alfred snapped. Not even really thinking he sent a punch flying into Scotland's face and the British nation flew back against the meeting table and fell to the floor, wiping the red liquid from his now bloodied cheek. But even as the Scot was in pain he had the look of victory. Ireland made to lunge at America but again Scotland stopped him for the second time. "This is between him and me Patrick."

Scotland rose to his feet once again but didn't move to attack. His indifference angered the American. He was so angry, he needed to fight the other. Did Scotland think him so insignificant he wasn't even worth defending himself against? Well this next punch would fix that. Alfred drew his arm back and swung, only to then hit a completely different target.

A flash of gold hair and a dark green uniform appeared in front of America's fist and then suddenly it was England flying back into Scotland's awaiting arms, bent over and wheezing at the blow to his gut. "E-England!" America stumbled back in shock and horror of what he had done. How had England gotten between him and Scotland? He hadn't even been in the room! The Englishman didn't answer though, still trying to recover his breath while Scotland rubbed his back in comforting circles.

"Are you alright wee Albion?" Arthur nodded to the other and after a few more moments straightened up and stepped forward, refusing the helping hands his two older brothers were offering in favor of standing protectively between America and Scotland.

"Arthur I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! It was Scotland he-" Alfred tried to explain while taking a step towards the Brit but was cut off by the sound of the safety clicking off of Arthur's handgun which he kept on him at all times like many nations did.

"Not another step United States" England threatened coldly, the gun raised level with America's chest. All the color drained from Alfred's face at the image before him. England was pointing a gun at him. England was pointing a gun at him and looked like he had every intention of shooting him if he made one wrong move. This was nothing like the last time, there was no doubt in his eyes.

"Are you going to shoot me England?" America questioned nervously, while still trying to maintain some air of confidence.

"If you raise another hand against my siblings then yes" came the unwavering response.

"B-But why? Why defend him? You two have tried to kill each other in the past!" America's voice had risen to hysterical levels. To observers the poor boy looked like he was about to cry. But for once that had no effect on the older Brit.

"He's my brother." England stated matter of factly. "Any wars between us will never change that, and I would do anything to defend him."

"So-so that means you..."

"Yes America, Scotland was right. I will always put my family first." America backed down and England lowered his weapon, the deadly expression fading. Just as Arthur finished his statement Scotland came up behind him and wrapped the shorter man into a hug, resting his chin in England's messy blonde hair. America felt sick watching the other smirk at him out of England's view. So he had planned it. He must have known England was about to show up and wanted Alfred to make himself out as the villain. That bastard.

"Aww thanks brother. You still didn't have to do that though, I can defend myself" Scotland untangled himself from England and the two turned to face each other. Matching microscopic smiles on their faces. America was well and completely forgotten as the two conversed

"You shouldn't tease the poor boy you know" England chided.

"But he's just as much fun to tease as you!" the redhead laughed and tousled England's hair only to have the offending hand shoved away and a pout blossom on Arthur's face.

"Alistair Kirkland sit down and let me fix that god awful bruise you've earned yourself" England pointed to the empty chair next to his own.

"Yes mum" Scotland plopped himself down with a cheeky smile and relaxed into his reclaimed seat while England bristled.

"I'm not your mum" he grumbled.

"Look like her though."

"Oi!"

America turned away sadly and trudged over to where Canada was sitting and reluctantly took his place next to him. He ignored the comforting hand Matthew placed on his shoulder in favor of watching the two UK brothers. Ireland had joined in on their talk and their conversation had devolved from English to Old English to Gaelic and now Alfred had no idea what was being said anymore. It was not for him to hear anyways. Privileges of blood and all that. The young nation's heart sank. It would never really be his place to have that close of a relationship with Arthur so for now he would settle for observing. He didn't trust Scotland's sudden interest in being close with England. If he tried to hurt Arthur, Alfred promised himself, he would kill him.