Hetalia - Toora Loora Loora 3/5
Title: Toora Loora Loora
Author: Faeriesnook
Disclaimer: I don’t own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. But I do love its creator for making history so much more interesting! I also do not own the lullaby, Toora Loora Loora, I just love it dearly <3
Characters: Ireland, Scotland, Wales, England, Northern Ireland, Sealand.
Rating: PG
Warnings: OC Nations. Sap.
Summary: In the dead of night, Ireland returns to the home she once lived, after avoiding it for so long. And during this visit, she has an unexpected encounter with the newest member of the family.
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“Big brother Arthur said you and ‘im got into a fight. Is that true!? And you kinda won and moved out? That’s really cool! But Pat wanted to stay, right, right? So he stayed behind! But everybody misses you. ‘Cause, ‘cause, they keep on saying how even if they're nations, you're all still siblings. And I heard big brother Blaine talkin’ to big brother Arthur once about how,” the little boy paused, taking a large breath before continuing. Saoirse snorted at his impression of Scotland. “’Even if Ireland and England have issues, Saoirse and Arthur are still family, you brat’… But I think he was that was he gets when he drinks a lot from those bottles I’m not allowed to go near… But he and big brother Arthur really like ‘em…”
After seeing that he had finally finished, Saoirse couldn’t help but laugh. It caused a scowl. “Hey! Why’re you laughing at me now!?”
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” She chuckled, standing with her hands on her hips. Peter looked down immediately, shuffling his feet and mumbling. She tilted her head in mock confusion, leaning forward. “Sorry, what was that? Gotta speak up little Sea.”
“I’m not little!” He shouted, before clamping his hands (and blankie) over his mouth. Saoirse strained her ears, waiting to hear the footsteps that would make her run. But they never came, and after a minute or so, it was deemed safe to speak. “… I said, I had a nightmare…”
“So why are you down here?”
“'Cause this is where big brother Arthur always is…” Peter shifted shyly, ringing his blankie in both hands. “A lot of nights he always stays here late and then he falls asleep… Big sister Eira told me you used to always pull a blanket over him-”
“How did she know that!?”
“So when I wake up ‘cause of a nightmare, and he’s still down here I come down and I put the blanket over ‘im. And then I fall asleep in one of the chairs, ‘cause I feel safe.”
“Why not wake him up?” But she already knew the answer.
“'Cause he works really hard like, all the time.” The eyes were so wide, so innocent. She smiled a bit more.
“Well, then, you should be on your way then, right?”
“Where are you going?”
“To my own home,” she responded, but the little boy had suddenly grabbed her hand. She blinked, surprised by the sudden tight grip, gazing down at the bright blue eyes.
“Can you stay!?”
“I can’t,” she stated simply, trying to free her hand - but the little Sea wasn’t having it. With a surprisingly strong tug, he was pulling her in the direction of the kitchen. “Oi! What’re you doin’!?”
“I’m hungry,” Peter announced simply, finally letting her go and flipping on the kitchen light. “Will you eat before you leave? Ireland’s really far away, right? Eat before you go!”
Saoirse wanted to argue, but had a feeling that she would not get very far. For a moment, she was reminded of a little stubborn Arthur, demanding a bedtime story for both he and Eira. With a small laugh, which seemed to confuse the boy, she nodded. Placing her hands on her knees, she leaned forward, an amused smile on her face. “Alright then, Snapper. What would you like?”
“Toast!” was his automatic response, and she just stared at him for a moment before straightening.
“Well then, toast it is!” She walked over to the bread basket, getting out two slices and popping them in the toaster. “Anything else?”
He shook his head, climbing up into a chair and swinging his feet. She watched with a fond smile, remembering all the times she had to make breakfast for her siblings (after all, she was the only one out of them that could cook). With an afterthought, she went to the bottom cabinet, pulling out the coffee maker Blaine liked to hide there (because Arthur always threw a temper tantrum over the machine). Setting it up, she pulled out a post it note, setting it on the machine.
Blaine, drink a cup. It’s all set up, you just gotta press the button.
When the toast was finished, she buttered it before setting it down in front of the little Sea. He munched on it happily, Saoirse idly braiding a strand of her hair. She looked around the kitchen, remembering the crazed mornings. Days where Arthur would be late for a meeting, hopping into the room while tying his shoes. Days when Blaine would be so hung over, she and Eira drew straws to see who would bring him his lunch. Days where Eira would speak with excitement about going to see the latest production of a favorite play. Days where Patrick was still half asleep, and half his food ended up on the table instead of in his mouth. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
She had no idea how much she had missed the house.
“Big sis Saoirse?” She blinked, surprised by how she was addressed, turning her head to look at Peter. He was looking up at her with wide eyes, hugging his blankie close. “… Will you come visit more often now?”
The question caught her off guard. Tucking hair behind her ear, the red head leaned across the table, using a forgotten napkin to wipe crumbs off his face. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Ireland and England, they don’t get along.”
“But what about Saoirse and Arthur?”
“That’s a very good question, little Sea. I’m not sure.”
Peter looked ready to say something, but a creak caught both attention. Saoirse spun around, eyes wide, excuses to why she was here filling her head. A mop of red-hair stumbled into the kitchen, a tired thirteen year old standing in the door way, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Pete? What’re you doin’…”
PART TWO >>>
PART FOUR >>>