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everythingismagicTitle: You Can't Take the Sky From Me [FF.NET Chapter Fourteen] [ Writing Journal Previous Chapters ]
Pairing: AmericaxEngland, PolandxLithuania, GermanyxItaly, SpainxRomano, Belarus---->Russia. Future pairings: GreecexJapan, HungaryxAustria, SwedenxFinland
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama/Action+Adventure/Alternate Universe
Word Count: 3.111
Summary: Ace Pilot America is on a mission for the World Military when a chance encounter with a group of Sky-Pirates leads him to team up with their captain, England, against a malevolent group that wants to fill the sky with zeppelins. [USxUK- Steampunk AU]
Chapter Summary: America smiled softly. “But yeah, I mean it wasn’t because I wanted to just do what the rest of the family did or anything,” he continued. “It was a lot more than that. I---I--- remember the first time I got to go up in the sky. It’s my first real memory, to be honest.”
England nodded. “Yes… I know what you mean.”
“You?”
The pirate leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t remember anything from before, really. The first clear memory I have is waking up aboard a ship, this ship, and experiencing the feel of the sky and…” He smiled, wistful. “It was…”
“Like even then, I realized this was where I was meant to be,” America finished.
“Y-yes… exactly,” England concurred. “I know how that is.”
Author's Note: I'm so sorry it took two weeks to update. I actually haven't been as consistent with updates as I'd like to be recently, but I'm going to try to get another chapter out within the next several days to help make up for lost time.
“No survivors, aru?” China leaned over the edge of his steamship, staring at the rows of oars that propelled it forward. The ship was being navigated through a field of ocean dotted with ice, and China frowned as it just barely darted a rather large, rather dangerous chunk of it. He wrapped his coat around himself further and rubbed his gloved hands together, blowing on them in attempt to warm himself. “Hong Kong?”
“None at all,” replied Hong Kong, his words echoing in the still of the frigid air. “It would be enough of a surprise if someone were able to survive normally, let alone here…”
“Bīng Chuān is… on average, the coldest place in the world,” a new voice piped up, feet clattering across the deck as she approached the general. He swerved around to face his subordinate, a young woman who was holding her tight parka around her as wind whipped strands of dark hair into her flushed cheeks.
“Welcome back Taiwan,” China noted her presence. “Unfortunately that’s true, aru. Korea just radioed me and told me they didn’t find anything either, aru.”
“How many pirate crews have been downed this last week?” Hong Kong inquired, placing his thickly gloved hands on the edge of the ship.
“Two that we know of, aru. The Nuberu and this crew, the Goguryeo,” China paused. “A merchant ship… and…”
“One pleasure vessel,” Taiwan finished. “Ten civilians on a sky-cruise from La Poule to Tsuru, blown right out of the sky.” Hong Kong raised an eyebrow.
“Collateral damage, from what we’ve been able to find out, aru,” China clarified with a frown.
“It’s worrisome,” Taiwan replied, staring out across the frozen sea, toward the ice shelf that could be made out kilometers away. “Very worrisome.”
Hong Kong cursed under his breath. “Is the military planning on taking action any time soon, General Wang? I mean, outside sending out search parties and finding out information.”
China bit his lip, immediately regretting the action as the freezing wind had chapped it. “I don’t know, aru.”
“Hmm,” Hong Kong answered, his discomfort with the situation clear in his expression despite his unemotional response. “Oh I meant to tell you. Back when we were at the Ho-Rang-Eee base this morning, Major Thailand gave me this message to deliver to you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope, blank except for a seal, as every envelope containing private military protocol was required to be in the World Military. China took it from his subordinate and turned away from Taiwan and Hong Kong, slipping the envelope open with one gloved finger. He skimmed it quickly and sighed, folding it neatly and placing it in the flap of his coat.
“Can you tell us what it says at all?” Taiwan queried.
He turned back to his two subordinates, a tentative, if obviously false, smile on his face. “Just that… it appears as if it won’t be long before the military does become involved on the battle front as well, aru.”
--------------------------------------------------
“Can I see your cabin, England?”
England stiffened, his back to America. “You---wha?” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I uh, why do you want to? It’s not that interesting, really.”
He glanced at America out of his peripheral vision as the aviator shrugged. “Saw everyone else’s…. I mean.”
“You haven’t seen Liechtenstein and Sealand’s rooms yet,” England corrected.
America was scratching the back of his head, a habit that England had noticed he engaged in quite often. “Yeah well… I mean it’s kind of,” he paused. “I told you I had to know all about my enemy, right?” He laughed nervously.
England exhaled deeply and a smile quirked up one side of his mouth. “I don’t see the harm.”
“Huh, really?”
The pirate began to walk down the hallway, and America followed him. “This room.” England stopped in front of the cabin. His door was larger, more elaborate, than that of his crewmates.
He opened the thick, heavy wooden door, and it creaked beneath his push. England briskly stepped into the room, leaving America outside to observe.
The first thing America noticed, outside of the upholstery (all very green) and the size of the room (large, but practically so), was how little it resembled the kind of room he’d always envisioned a pirate captain having. Over in one corner should have been a large round table, with several chairs, where the captain would sit with his crew for meetings. Maybe on the table there’d be an elaborate scope, golden instruments, and a few treasure maps. And he thought that England’s room should have been at least two times bigger than it was. Not a room, but several rooms. But it was just one room and there was no table, just a desk. And only one chair.
It was so private, and America thought this looked like a room that belonged to someone who preferred solitude. England cared about his crew, that America was certain of, but he had little trouble imagining him spending more of his free time down in this room than sharing in the upbeat antics of his crew. He frowned and wondered why the idea of England isolating himself, choosing to be alone, caused him to feel a tad gloomy.
America stepped across the threshold into the room and continued surveying his surroundings. The cabin was also immaculately clean, not a stray speck of dust or a single item out of place. It was almost sterile. “It’s very umm… clean,” he finally managed.
England cocked an eyebrow and slid into his chair, crossing his legs and resting his hands atop them. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No…”
“I’ll be honest,” England suppressed a sardonic smile. “I have a rather poor habit of losing things, so I try to keep things organized.”
At this, America grinned. “Me too!” He rested his hand on the edge of the desk.
England blinked, focusing his gaze on the aviator. “Oh?”
“I lose crap all the time,” America whined. “My cousin is always getting on my case about it. Luckily Japan keeps the hangar pretty clean. He’s a neat freak…”
The pirate absently ran a hand up and down his leg. “You want to sit down?”
America nodded. “Yeah, I think I will!” England began to stand up, but America had a different idea. He plopped rather unceremoniously onto the edge of England’s bed, the soft silk and down comforter bouncing beneath him.
“Oh well… I suppose that works as well.”
The aviator laughed. “I’ve never really told you about my unit, have I?”
“No but…”
America considered that if he told him more about himself, he might be able to get England to open up more about his own story. “No, I should! You know about France, of course.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Hah! Yeah, I know what you mean,” America continued. “Well there’s my cousin, Canada. He’s… shy and he can be a bit of a pushover, but he’s an awesome mechanic. Canada’s the only other person that I really trust my plane with. We’ve been really close since we were little, and… people often mistake us for twins.”
“You look alike?” England propped his elbow on the desk, having turned his chair toward the bed.
“Yeah, a lot alike.” He stretched his arms out behind him. “Japan is a sergeant. He’s from Tsuru and he’s a great pilot. Not as awesome as me of course…”
“Oh, of course not.” The pirate rolled his eyes.
“Hey! It’s true. But he’s damn good nonetheless.” America shuffled his feet back and forth against the side of the bed. “We’re pretty good friends. He’s quiet and likes to study a lot, but he’s actually a lot of fun to hang around with.”
England’s interest appeared to be mildly piqued by what America was telling him, but he had a feeling that sharing such information, information that wasn’t deeply personal, wouldn’t have much of an effect on the pirate.
America bit his lip. “This is sort of a weird thing to say but… if there’s anything you want to ask me about… y’know, myself… go ahead.” His cheeks pinked as he asked this, and he stared down at his still swinging feet.
England’s eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for a moment. “Why are you offering?” He finally asked.
The aviator shrugged. “Just… ‘cuz I mean if we’re comrades, we should know things about each other.” He still tripped a bit on the word comrades. America felt as if perhaps, he was slightly manipulating him, and a tinge of guilt pulled at him for doing so.But he really wanted to know about England, know England. He’d allow the pirate privy to personal things if it meant possibly getting him to open up to him.
England gulped and nodded. “Fair enough.” He looked directly at America, his green eyes questioning. “Then may I ask you, why you joined the military?”
America’s brows furrowed. “Huh?” He shifted slightly. It was an odd question, but in retrospect, he should have anticipated a question like this from the pirate captain. The aviator shook his head and beamed. “To be a hero, of course!”
England huffed. “That’s not an answer, you idiot.”
“Why not?” America scowled. “That’s why I joined!”
“More detail, at least?” He demanded. “You said I could ask you anything, and I assumed that promised a fair reply as well.”
He rubbed his forehead and sighed, reaching down with one hand to toy with the fob watch at his waist. “Yeah, yeah okay.” America ran his fingers across the watch. “It’s never been a question for me, what I was going to do when I grew up…” His voice as he began was far quieter than usual, far more contemplative. “My grandfather and my father, they were in the military, and that was important to me.” He smiled, nostalgia gracing his mind. “Told me old war stories all the time, which was awesome.”
“You’re speaking awfully quietly,” England said.
“Oh I can speak---“ But England had slid out of his chair and decided to sit down on the bed next to America.
“I can hear fine now.”
America smiled softly. “But yeah, I mean it wasn’t because I wanted to just do what the rest of the family did or anything,” he continued. “It was a lot more than that. I---I--- remember the first time I got to go up in the sky. It’s my first real memory, to be honest.”
England nodded. “Yes… I know what you mean.”
“You?”
The pirate leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t remember anything from before, really. The first clear memory I have is waking up aboard a ship, this ship, and experiencing the feel of the sky and…” He smiled, wistful. “It was…”
“Like even then, I realized this was where I was meant to be,” America finished.
“Y-yes… exactly,” England concurred. “I know how that is.”
America grinned. “Yeah! Yeah I thought you might. But anyway, I want to be in the sky,” America persisted, “and I want to help people. There’s nothing all that complicated about why I joined the military. The medals are nice, and the recognition is too. But it’s not… that’s not why.”
England’s hand was near America’s now, and it twitched, as if wishing to move those couple centimeters further to reach it. His face grew hot and he willed himself to pull away. Don’t be daft. Don’t touch him. You---
“That work for an answer?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Awesome.” He gave England a thumbs up, and then lowered his hand, placing it beside him.
It landed soundly on top of England’s hand. A hot, scarlet flush brightened his cheeks as he registered America’s contact. He braved glancing down, at America’s hand, so casually resting on top of his. England hadn’t had the courage to do it, but there was the aviator, touching him like it was no difficult task. Like the hug earlier, America had wrapped his arms around him and all he’d been able to do was stand there, scared stiff. Perhaps America was just the touchy-feely type. Maybe he didn’t have trouble with it, because his actions didn’t mean anything special. N-not that mine would mean anything either, if I did it, of course!
He looked up, despite the fact that he knew his face was still hot, to meet America’s bright blue eyes. They were like the sky, and he was struck by how so much about America reminded him of the sky, wide and shining and free. And he… was… his hands were calloused, strong, and sturdy, much like England’s own. We’re not so different, are we? The room was so silent, the only sound being England’s heartbeat hammering in his ears and their quiet breathing.
As if to test the waters (did America even realize what he was doing? Honestly), England shifted his hand slightly underneath the other man’s.
And America bolted away, his cheeks reddened and he shook his hand out as if he’d just touched a hot coal. England did the same, immediately tucking his arms across his chest afterward.
America had darted the other direction so haphazardly, that his legs thumped against the side of the bed with a loud bang. “Ow, damn!” He cursed, reaching down to rub the back of his knees. Upon doing so, America’s eyes caught the edge of an object peeking out from under the bed. It hadn’t been there before. He imagined that his accidental assault on the bed had caused it to roll out.
He snatched it up and turned it in his hands. It was a small scope, golden and intricate and studded along the top rim with what America assumed to be emeralds. This was the kind of treasure the aviator expected to see laying around in the headquarters of a pirate captain. He sat back up and held the scope up over his eye, pretending to look out over the sky with it. “Wow, did you steal this?”
America couldn’t miss the way England’s eyes flashed when he saw what the other man was holding, nor could he miss the rueful expression that crossed his face and the way his lips tightened into a thin line. Oh, this is one of those situations.
“Just kidding!” America rectified. “I mean I’m sure it’s yours honestly, right? I didn’t mean to--- “
“It’s not mine,” England interrupted. His voice now was quiet, and it contained a strange combination of coldness and vulnerability.
America gulped. He took England’s hands and placed the scope in them, a hesitant smile on his face. “Here ya go then.”
The pirate clenched his hands around the scope and held it to his chest. “I’d been looking for this, actually. So ah, thank you.”
“Is it… “ Just ask, dammit. “Is it important?”
England closed his eyes and nodded. “It is.”
“Ah?”
The older man sighed. “It… well it belonged to the previous captain and he…” England shook his head roughly. “Never mind! Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I’m going to prattle on to you about my ship or my past or my… captain. You know enough! Now don’t ask again.”
America blinked. “I… didn’t really ask you.” And he just stared at England, watched as he clutched the scope close to his heart, as if protecting something so precious, which is exactly what it was. ‘The first clear memory I have is waking up aboard a ship, this ship, and experiencing the feel of the sky.’ He had that and the captain, the one who was gone, and then England, who had become the Victoria’s captain at only fifteen, taking over from that previous captain. Those were the pieces he had, and the puzzle was at least starting to come together.
How long have you been on this ship England? Has this really been your entire life?
He reached forward and placed a hand on England’s shoulder. It was something he’d do to any friend, really. If they were feeling down, a touch of his awesome would be guaranteed to cheer them up. And England, well he seemed rather piteous at the moment.
America moved his other arm up as well, a hand on each shoulder. This… well… this, like the hug, felt different.
England’s eyes grew large and his face contorted in embarrassment as his cheeks flooded with red, once more. “Wh-what are you…”
The door slammed open with a bang, and America scrambled away from England, nearly falling onto the floor as he did so. England, for his part, leaned up against the headboard, his hand over his heart as if willing the palpitations to slow down.
Prussia was standing before them, hands on his hips and the most devilish of smirks on his lips.
Dammit, Prussia of all people. Walking in on them sitting on the bed together, America’s hands on England’s shoulders and--- well England had looked so strangely flustered. It had to have looked pretty bad.
“You know, you two,” Prussia began. “I think that I’m actually not going to say anything.” He laughed. “Because this, this is just too easy even for me.”
Somehow that was even more embarrassing to him than the innuendo laced boy toy comment America had been expecting. His cheeks burned.
“Belt up, Prussia!” England snapped. “Do you have any idea how much time you’ve accumulated on the mast? Don’t think you’re off the hook because you’re injured. When you’re better I’ll--- “
“Yeah, yeah,” Prussia snorted. “Anyway, dinner’s ready, lovebirds.” He winked and left the room.
America stood up from the bed and brushed his legs off. “S-sorry about that,” he murmured.
“About what?” England queried, sliding off the bed and placing the scope in a desk drawer.
“I mean what Prussia walked in on. It’s just… I saw you were down and y’know…” He scratched the back of his head.
“Hmm?” England raised an eyebrow.
America laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean anything by it!” He clarified, in a tone that he hoped sounded reassuring.
“O-oh, I see.” England shut the drawer and frowned, his eyes downcast. He sighed. “Of… course not.” His voice lowered in timbre, almost a whisper by the time he finished. “Now let’s go to dinner. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it more than being cooped up in this bedroom with me.” He bit off the last part of the statement.
America rubbed his forehead and blinked, nonplussed. England had sounded so, dejected, disappointed, disheartened even. England, what did I do wrong now?
Pairing: AmericaxEngland, PolandxLithuania, GermanyxItaly, SpainxRomano, Belarus---->Russia. Future pairings: GreecexJapan, HungaryxAustria, SwedenxFinland
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama/Action+Adventure/Alternate Universe
Word Count: 3.111
Summary: Ace Pilot America is on a mission for the World Military when a chance encounter with a group of Sky-Pirates leads him to team up with their captain, England, against a malevolent group that wants to fill the sky with zeppelins. [USxUK- Steampunk AU]
Chapter Summary: America smiled softly. “But yeah, I mean it wasn’t because I wanted to just do what the rest of the family did or anything,” he continued. “It was a lot more than that. I---I--- remember the first time I got to go up in the sky. It’s my first real memory, to be honest.”
England nodded. “Yes… I know what you mean.”
“You?”
The pirate leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t remember anything from before, really. The first clear memory I have is waking up aboard a ship, this ship, and experiencing the feel of the sky and…” He smiled, wistful. “It was…”
“Like even then, I realized this was where I was meant to be,” America finished.
“Y-yes… exactly,” England concurred. “I know how that is.”
Author's Note: I'm so sorry it took two weeks to update. I actually haven't been as consistent with updates as I'd like to be recently, but I'm going to try to get another chapter out within the next several days to help make up for lost time.
“No survivors, aru?” China leaned over the edge of his steamship, staring at the rows of oars that propelled it forward. The ship was being navigated through a field of ocean dotted with ice, and China frowned as it just barely darted a rather large, rather dangerous chunk of it. He wrapped his coat around himself further and rubbed his gloved hands together, blowing on them in attempt to warm himself. “Hong Kong?”
“None at all,” replied Hong Kong, his words echoing in the still of the frigid air. “It would be enough of a surprise if someone were able to survive normally, let alone here…”
“Bīng Chuān is… on average, the coldest place in the world,” a new voice piped up, feet clattering across the deck as she approached the general. He swerved around to face his subordinate, a young woman who was holding her tight parka around her as wind whipped strands of dark hair into her flushed cheeks.
“Welcome back Taiwan,” China noted her presence. “Unfortunately that’s true, aru. Korea just radioed me and told me they didn’t find anything either, aru.”
“How many pirate crews have been downed this last week?” Hong Kong inquired, placing his thickly gloved hands on the edge of the ship.
“Two that we know of, aru. The Nuberu and this crew, the Goguryeo,” China paused. “A merchant ship… and…”
“One pleasure vessel,” Taiwan finished. “Ten civilians on a sky-cruise from La Poule to Tsuru, blown right out of the sky.” Hong Kong raised an eyebrow.
“Collateral damage, from what we’ve been able to find out, aru,” China clarified with a frown.
“It’s worrisome,” Taiwan replied, staring out across the frozen sea, toward the ice shelf that could be made out kilometers away. “Very worrisome.”
Hong Kong cursed under his breath. “Is the military planning on taking action any time soon, General Wang? I mean, outside sending out search parties and finding out information.”
China bit his lip, immediately regretting the action as the freezing wind had chapped it. “I don’t know, aru.”
“Hmm,” Hong Kong answered, his discomfort with the situation clear in his expression despite his unemotional response. “Oh I meant to tell you. Back when we were at the Ho-Rang-Eee base this morning, Major Thailand gave me this message to deliver to you.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope, blank except for a seal, as every envelope containing private military protocol was required to be in the World Military. China took it from his subordinate and turned away from Taiwan and Hong Kong, slipping the envelope open with one gloved finger. He skimmed it quickly and sighed, folding it neatly and placing it in the flap of his coat.
“Can you tell us what it says at all?” Taiwan queried.
He turned back to his two subordinates, a tentative, if obviously false, smile on his face. “Just that… it appears as if it won’t be long before the military does become involved on the battle front as well, aru.”
--------------------------------------------------
“Can I see your cabin, England?”
England stiffened, his back to America. “You---wha?” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I uh, why do you want to? It’s not that interesting, really.”
He glanced at America out of his peripheral vision as the aviator shrugged. “Saw everyone else’s…. I mean.”
“You haven’t seen Liechtenstein and Sealand’s rooms yet,” England corrected.
America was scratching the back of his head, a habit that England had noticed he engaged in quite often. “Yeah well… I mean it’s kind of,” he paused. “I told you I had to know all about my enemy, right?” He laughed nervously.
England exhaled deeply and a smile quirked up one side of his mouth. “I don’t see the harm.”
“Huh, really?”
The pirate began to walk down the hallway, and America followed him. “This room.” England stopped in front of the cabin. His door was larger, more elaborate, than that of his crewmates.
He opened the thick, heavy wooden door, and it creaked beneath his push. England briskly stepped into the room, leaving America outside to observe.
The first thing America noticed, outside of the upholstery (all very green) and the size of the room (large, but practically so), was how little it resembled the kind of room he’d always envisioned a pirate captain having. Over in one corner should have been a large round table, with several chairs, where the captain would sit with his crew for meetings. Maybe on the table there’d be an elaborate scope, golden instruments, and a few treasure maps. And he thought that England’s room should have been at least two times bigger than it was. Not a room, but several rooms. But it was just one room and there was no table, just a desk. And only one chair.
It was so private, and America thought this looked like a room that belonged to someone who preferred solitude. England cared about his crew, that America was certain of, but he had little trouble imagining him spending more of his free time down in this room than sharing in the upbeat antics of his crew. He frowned and wondered why the idea of England isolating himself, choosing to be alone, caused him to feel a tad gloomy.
America stepped across the threshold into the room and continued surveying his surroundings. The cabin was also immaculately clean, not a stray speck of dust or a single item out of place. It was almost sterile. “It’s very umm… clean,” he finally managed.
England cocked an eyebrow and slid into his chair, crossing his legs and resting his hands atop them. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No…”
“I’ll be honest,” England suppressed a sardonic smile. “I have a rather poor habit of losing things, so I try to keep things organized.”
At this, America grinned. “Me too!” He rested his hand on the edge of the desk.
England blinked, focusing his gaze on the aviator. “Oh?”
“I lose crap all the time,” America whined. “My cousin is always getting on my case about it. Luckily Japan keeps the hangar pretty clean. He’s a neat freak…”
The pirate absently ran a hand up and down his leg. “You want to sit down?”
America nodded. “Yeah, I think I will!” England began to stand up, but America had a different idea. He plopped rather unceremoniously onto the edge of England’s bed, the soft silk and down comforter bouncing beneath him.
“Oh well… I suppose that works as well.”
The aviator laughed. “I’ve never really told you about my unit, have I?”
“No but…”
America considered that if he told him more about himself, he might be able to get England to open up more about his own story. “No, I should! You know about France, of course.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Hah! Yeah, I know what you mean,” America continued. “Well there’s my cousin, Canada. He’s… shy and he can be a bit of a pushover, but he’s an awesome mechanic. Canada’s the only other person that I really trust my plane with. We’ve been really close since we were little, and… people often mistake us for twins.”
“You look alike?” England propped his elbow on the desk, having turned his chair toward the bed.
“Yeah, a lot alike.” He stretched his arms out behind him. “Japan is a sergeant. He’s from Tsuru and he’s a great pilot. Not as awesome as me of course…”
“Oh, of course not.” The pirate rolled his eyes.
“Hey! It’s true. But he’s damn good nonetheless.” America shuffled his feet back and forth against the side of the bed. “We’re pretty good friends. He’s quiet and likes to study a lot, but he’s actually a lot of fun to hang around with.”
England’s interest appeared to be mildly piqued by what America was telling him, but he had a feeling that sharing such information, information that wasn’t deeply personal, wouldn’t have much of an effect on the pirate.
America bit his lip. “This is sort of a weird thing to say but… if there’s anything you want to ask me about… y’know, myself… go ahead.” His cheeks pinked as he asked this, and he stared down at his still swinging feet.
England’s eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for a moment. “Why are you offering?” He finally asked.
The aviator shrugged. “Just… ‘cuz I mean if we’re comrades, we should know things about each other.” He still tripped a bit on the word comrades. America felt as if perhaps, he was slightly manipulating him, and a tinge of guilt pulled at him for doing so.But he really wanted to know about England, know England. He’d allow the pirate privy to personal things if it meant possibly getting him to open up to him.
England gulped and nodded. “Fair enough.” He looked directly at America, his green eyes questioning. “Then may I ask you, why you joined the military?”
America’s brows furrowed. “Huh?” He shifted slightly. It was an odd question, but in retrospect, he should have anticipated a question like this from the pirate captain. The aviator shook his head and beamed. “To be a hero, of course!”
England huffed. “That’s not an answer, you idiot.”
“Why not?” America scowled. “That’s why I joined!”
“More detail, at least?” He demanded. “You said I could ask you anything, and I assumed that promised a fair reply as well.”
He rubbed his forehead and sighed, reaching down with one hand to toy with the fob watch at his waist. “Yeah, yeah okay.” America ran his fingers across the watch. “It’s never been a question for me, what I was going to do when I grew up…” His voice as he began was far quieter than usual, far more contemplative. “My grandfather and my father, they were in the military, and that was important to me.” He smiled, nostalgia gracing his mind. “Told me old war stories all the time, which was awesome.”
“You’re speaking awfully quietly,” England said.
“Oh I can speak---“ But England had slid out of his chair and decided to sit down on the bed next to America.
“I can hear fine now.”
America smiled softly. “But yeah, I mean it wasn’t because I wanted to just do what the rest of the family did or anything,” he continued. “It was a lot more than that. I---I--- remember the first time I got to go up in the sky. It’s my first real memory, to be honest.”
England nodded. “Yes… I know what you mean.”
“You?”
The pirate leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t remember anything from before, really. The first clear memory I have is waking up aboard a ship, this ship, and experiencing the feel of the sky and…” He smiled, wistful. “It was…”
“Like even then, I realized this was where I was meant to be,” America finished.
“Y-yes… exactly,” England concurred. “I know how that is.”
America grinned. “Yeah! Yeah I thought you might. But anyway, I want to be in the sky,” America persisted, “and I want to help people. There’s nothing all that complicated about why I joined the military. The medals are nice, and the recognition is too. But it’s not… that’s not why.”
England’s hand was near America’s now, and it twitched, as if wishing to move those couple centimeters further to reach it. His face grew hot and he willed himself to pull away. Don’t be daft. Don’t touch him. You---
“That work for an answer?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Awesome.” He gave England a thumbs up, and then lowered his hand, placing it beside him.
It landed soundly on top of England’s hand. A hot, scarlet flush brightened his cheeks as he registered America’s contact. He braved glancing down, at America’s hand, so casually resting on top of his. England hadn’t had the courage to do it, but there was the aviator, touching him like it was no difficult task. Like the hug earlier, America had wrapped his arms around him and all he’d been able to do was stand there, scared stiff. Perhaps America was just the touchy-feely type. Maybe he didn’t have trouble with it, because his actions didn’t mean anything special. N-not that mine would mean anything either, if I did it, of course!
He looked up, despite the fact that he knew his face was still hot, to meet America’s bright blue eyes. They were like the sky, and he was struck by how so much about America reminded him of the sky, wide and shining and free. And he… was… his hands were calloused, strong, and sturdy, much like England’s own. We’re not so different, are we? The room was so silent, the only sound being England’s heartbeat hammering in his ears and their quiet breathing.
As if to test the waters (did America even realize what he was doing? Honestly), England shifted his hand slightly underneath the other man’s.
And America bolted away, his cheeks reddened and he shook his hand out as if he’d just touched a hot coal. England did the same, immediately tucking his arms across his chest afterward.
America had darted the other direction so haphazardly, that his legs thumped against the side of the bed with a loud bang. “Ow, damn!” He cursed, reaching down to rub the back of his knees. Upon doing so, America’s eyes caught the edge of an object peeking out from under the bed. It hadn’t been there before. He imagined that his accidental assault on the bed had caused it to roll out.
He snatched it up and turned it in his hands. It was a small scope, golden and intricate and studded along the top rim with what America assumed to be emeralds. This was the kind of treasure the aviator expected to see laying around in the headquarters of a pirate captain. He sat back up and held the scope up over his eye, pretending to look out over the sky with it. “Wow, did you steal this?”
America couldn’t miss the way England’s eyes flashed when he saw what the other man was holding, nor could he miss the rueful expression that crossed his face and the way his lips tightened into a thin line. Oh, this is one of those situations.
“Just kidding!” America rectified. “I mean I’m sure it’s yours honestly, right? I didn’t mean to--- “
“It’s not mine,” England interrupted. His voice now was quiet, and it contained a strange combination of coldness and vulnerability.
America gulped. He took England’s hands and placed the scope in them, a hesitant smile on his face. “Here ya go then.”
The pirate clenched his hands around the scope and held it to his chest. “I’d been looking for this, actually. So ah, thank you.”
“Is it… “ Just ask, dammit. “Is it important?”
England closed his eyes and nodded. “It is.”
“Ah?”
The older man sighed. “It… well it belonged to the previous captain and he…” England shook his head roughly. “Never mind! Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I’m going to prattle on to you about my ship or my past or my… captain. You know enough! Now don’t ask again.”
America blinked. “I… didn’t really ask you.” And he just stared at England, watched as he clutched the scope close to his heart, as if protecting something so precious, which is exactly what it was. ‘The first clear memory I have is waking up aboard a ship, this ship, and experiencing the feel of the sky.’ He had that and the captain, the one who was gone, and then England, who had become the Victoria’s captain at only fifteen, taking over from that previous captain. Those were the pieces he had, and the puzzle was at least starting to come together.
How long have you been on this ship England? Has this really been your entire life?
He reached forward and placed a hand on England’s shoulder. It was something he’d do to any friend, really. If they were feeling down, a touch of his awesome would be guaranteed to cheer them up. And England, well he seemed rather piteous at the moment.
America moved his other arm up as well, a hand on each shoulder. This… well… this, like the hug, felt different.
England’s eyes grew large and his face contorted in embarrassment as his cheeks flooded with red, once more. “Wh-what are you…”
The door slammed open with a bang, and America scrambled away from England, nearly falling onto the floor as he did so. England, for his part, leaned up against the headboard, his hand over his heart as if willing the palpitations to slow down.
Prussia was standing before them, hands on his hips and the most devilish of smirks on his lips.
Dammit, Prussia of all people. Walking in on them sitting on the bed together, America’s hands on England’s shoulders and--- well England had looked so strangely flustered. It had to have looked pretty bad.
“You know, you two,” Prussia began. “I think that I’m actually not going to say anything.” He laughed. “Because this, this is just too easy even for me.”
Somehow that was even more embarrassing to him than the innuendo laced boy toy comment America had been expecting. His cheeks burned.
“Belt up, Prussia!” England snapped. “Do you have any idea how much time you’ve accumulated on the mast? Don’t think you’re off the hook because you’re injured. When you’re better I’ll--- “
“Yeah, yeah,” Prussia snorted. “Anyway, dinner’s ready, lovebirds.” He winked and left the room.
America stood up from the bed and brushed his legs off. “S-sorry about that,” he murmured.
“About what?” England queried, sliding off the bed and placing the scope in a desk drawer.
“I mean what Prussia walked in on. It’s just… I saw you were down and y’know…” He scratched the back of his head.
“Hmm?” England raised an eyebrow.
America laughed nervously. “I didn’t mean anything by it!” He clarified, in a tone that he hoped sounded reassuring.
“O-oh, I see.” England shut the drawer and frowned, his eyes downcast. He sighed. “Of… course not.” His voice lowered in timbre, almost a whisper by the time he finished. “Now let’s go to dinner. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it more than being cooped up in this bedroom with me.” He bit off the last part of the statement.
America rubbed his forehead and blinked, nonplussed. England had sounded so, dejected, disappointed, disheartened even. England, what did I do wrong now?