Papa!Scotland x Child!Reader - Scottish Lullabies

They're fighting again, you thought watching your Papa, Scotland, and your Uncle Arthur argue at the kitchen table again. This was not new to you; in fact, it happened often. Your Uncle Arthur would visit, and every time, they would get into another stupid fight about the smallest thing.



Noticing you at the doorway, your Papa said a final "F' you, Arthur" before walking over to you and crouching down to your level.



"I thought ye would be asleep by now," he said, frowning.



"I was asleep. You two woke me up."



Scotland and England both looked embarrassed. Arthur muttered a quick apology while Scotland looked at you sadly.



"I'm sorry. But ye know how your Uncle and I can get."



You nodded silently. Scotland sighed. "Come on, (f/n), let's get ye back to sleep." He paused and turned to his younger brother. "And Arthur, I want you out of my fuc-"



"There's a child present, you asshat!" Arthur screeched.



Your papa looked at you, blushing. "Sorry, (f/n). But seriously, Arthur, get out."



Uncle Arthur sighed. "Fine." And with that, he grabbed his jacket and left.



"Finally," Scotland muttered. He stood up and picked you up, placing you on his hip. "Sorry. But now that that's over, ye can go back to sleep."



Your papa carried you upstairs to your room. He opened the door with his foot and walked in, putting you on the bed. You lay down and he tucked you in.



"Sorry. I didn't think that we would wake ye up."



"It's fine, Papa. But… do you and Uncle Arthur… hate each other?"



Scotland frowned. "Of course not, (f/n). We just… disagree from time to time."



"Oh, okay."



"Now, do ye still want me to sing?"



You nodded tiredly. Your papa would sing to you to sleep every might since you were a baby. He would sing traditional Scottish lullabies, either in Gaelic or English, but most of the time he would sing in English so that you could understand what he was singing.



Scotland nodded.



"O can ye sew cushions,
Or can ye sew sheets?
Or can ye sing ba-loo-loo
When the bairn greets?
And hee and ba-birdie,
And hee and ba-lamb;
And hee and ba- birdie,
My bonnie wee lamb!


Hee-o, wee-o, what would I do wi' you?
Black's the life that I lead wi' you;
O'er mony o' you, Little for to gie you.
Hee-o, wee-o, what would I do wi' you?


O can ye sew cushions,
Or can ye sew sheets?
Or can ye sing ba-loo-loo
When the bairn greets?
And hee and ba-birdie,
And hee and ba-lamb;
And hee and ba- birdie,
My bonnie wee lamb!


I've placed my cradle
On yon holly top,
And aye, as the wind blew
My cradle did rock.
And hush-a-ba, baby,
O ba-lilly-loo,
And hee and ba-birdie
My bonnie wee doo!


O can ye sew cushions,
Or can ye sew sheets?
Or can ye sing ba-loo-loo
When the bairn greets?
And hee and ba-birdie,
And hee and ba-lamb;
And hee and ba- birdie,
My bonnie wee lamb!"


He finished the song just as your eyes were closing.


"I love you, Papa," you said.


"I love ye, too, (f/n)."


"… And Papa, what does 'F' you' mean?"