UN Meetings: ScotlandX(Country) Reader
((If reader talks about country you choose to be, switch it out for random country!))
You sat outside on the roof of the UN building, wishing you could be anywhere else in the world.
Scratch that . . . you wished you could be back home . . . in (country).
You hated that you represented (country). Not because you hated your home. On the contrary, you loved your home, and were glad to represent your country.
You just hated having to come to these useless meetings!
"Three whole days, and it's barely been the first." You sighed, annoyed, tired, and yearning for (favorite food).
You didn't like being away from home. You didn't like being away from your family. Mostly, you just hated being alone.
You thought, maybe, here, at the UN meetings, you could find someone you had a spark with, someone who you would like being around in this place.
Unfortunately, all you had met was empty professions of love, and persistent nagging to 'hop, in the ol' sack,' with a few of them.
No spark, not even a fizzle.
You sighed as you sat on an electrical components box that always sat atop buildings. Sure, it was a little cold, being metal and all, and it was probably ruining your pants, but you really couldn't care less.
Japan, or Kiku, had said to dress business casual, and you had foolishly believed him.
So, there you sat, listening to the different countries go on and on about nothing important, everyone else wore wither tradition clothes, or military uniform, and you were wearing black wedge heels, black slacks, a black vest with (favorite color) pin-stripping, (favorite color) tie, and crisp, white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows.
You kicked your feet and blew raspberries. "This sucks."
"You can say zat again!"
You turned and loudly groaned as you say France, one of the only other ones not dressed appropriately, but in white pants, white sport coat, and red shirt with the top three buttons undone.
Such a flirt!
"Oh-ho-ho! You are happy to see me, no?" He grinned and started towards you.
"No," You growled, your (country accent, if one) coloring your words as she glared at him.
France, or Francis as he liked to be called most of the time, only leaned forward on the electronics box and got close to you, pressing his chest to your back. "Oh _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _, you cannot resist, no?"
Suddenly, you heard a man huffing for breath, and both you and France looked to the entrance to the roof and saw Scotland standing there.
He leaned up and smiled and he gasped for air. "Sorry to take so long, Lass. England wanted ta 'ave a talk with meh."
Scotland scowled as he breathed heavily. "Wha'cha doin' with meh lass, French boy?"
France stood straight and scowled. "You were meeting _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ here, Allistor?"
Scotland caught his breath and stood as he jammed his hands into his pockets. He wore a uniform of sorts, a pair of navy slacks and tie, a white shirt, and a navy blazer with white lines crossed over the chest.
"Sure am . . . No' sure why you're here, though. Shouldn't you be off, I don'no, molesting somebody else?" Allistor crooned, almost cruelly. He narrowed his large, green eyes and tapped his foot on the ground, as if waiting for France to move so Scotland could take his place.
France huffed before he stomped his foot and walked away without a second look.
You were speechless.
You hadn't expected anyone. In fact, you had intended to be left alone and away from the crazy men of UN.
Scotland didn't blink as he made his way to the ledge of the UN building roof and lit a cigar.
He took a big puff and blew the smoke into the air before he looked back at you. "Wha'd he say your name was?"
"Uh . . . _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _." You managed, and Allistor nodded and sighed, his face set and almost emotionless.
"Yeah, you represent (country) . Sorry ta freak ya out back there, but most women 'round here can't stand Francis. And by ta look on your face, I figured you needed some rescuin '." Scotland chuckled, and you smiled, relaxing around the rough and gruff country.
"I thought saving people was America's job?" You smiled, and Scotland snorted.
"Tha' git? Couldn't rescue a girl outta a paper sack!" Allistor exclaimed, breathing out his cigar smoke, and you smiled.
He looked a little intimidating, but was just rough around the edges.
It helped that, much like the other countries, he was devastatingly handsome, but his was different.
Where they were cute, he was rugged.
Where they were sweet, he was gruff.
Where they were pushy, he didn't seem interested at all.
Scotland sighed and put the cigar he was smoking out on the ledge he sat on. "Well, better get back in there . . . another meetin' about ta start."
You nodded and jumped off the box and wiped your pants down. The box hadn't made you too dirty at all.
When you started toward the entrance to the building, you saw Scotland holding the door open for you, starring at you.
"Is everything okay?" You smiled as you walked up to him.
Scotland smirked and shook his head down at you. "You look good in (favorite color)."