[CHAPTERFIC] You Can't Take the Sky From Me Chapter Ten (Axis Powers Hetalia)
Title: You Can't Take the Sky From Me [FF.NET Chapter Ten] [ Writing Journal Previous Chapters ]
Pairing: AmericaxEngland, PolandxLithuania, GermanyxItaly, SpainxRomano. Future pairings: GreecexJapan, HungaryxAustria, SwedenxFinland, Belarus--->Russia
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama/Action+Adventure/Alternate Universe
Word Count: 3,313
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: And when he’d talked about England particularly, his voice rose in pitch and his enthusiasm mingled with something else, something Canada couldn’t quite pinpoint. He lit up when he spoke of England. Admiration wasn’t right, pride wasn’t either. He didn’t know what it was, and his mind wouldn’t allow him to think further into it. It was as if there were a subconscious roadblock that disallowed him even considering that his cousin might…
“Well he’s a pirate,” Canada interrupted his own thoughts. “I’m sure he can handle himself just fine, eh?”
“You’re like, totally late,” the merchant called. He was leaning over the side of his ship, his blond hair blowing in the breeze and his ruffled pink shirt flying open.
England rolled his eyes. He’d radioed the Krakus two days before to set up a trade arrangement. Poland never asked questions, and as such, he could think of no one better to trade supplies with. They’d use the goods they’d garnered from the Dezenvòlt Islands raid to procure enough to keep them going for a few weeks, enough for the time they needed to spend out of the sky.
They’d already needed supplies before the Kosmider attack, and as such, he’d already contacted Poland. Now they needed them more. The Victoria docked against the merchant ship, and England stepped over onto the Krakus. “All things considered, it’s astounding we’re only an hour late for our appointment,” he shouted back.
Poland nodded. “Well I’ve so already got your order ready and stuff, so we can make this snappy if you want.”
England was next to Poland now. “We’ll actually need more than we requested.”
Poland flipped his wrist at the pirate. “Whatever, as long as you’ve got the goods, that’s fi-hey wait, your ship is totally trashed.” His head had snapped toward the tattered sails of the Victoria, the orange sunset beaming through the torn fabric. England caught him surveying his bandaged cheek as well.
He gritted his teeth and pulled at the black gloves he’d slipped on to cover his injured hands. “I thought you didn’t ask questions, you bloody bender.”
Poland put his palms in front of him. “Woah, like, back it up. I didn’t ask you anything.” He paused. “But I so totally want to know.” He raised his eyebrows and his lips curled up in a small smile, as if he were expecting a certain answer from him.
England braved it. What could be the harm? “Kosmider attack, surely you know of them.”
“Thought so,” Poland replied, his smile vanishing. He bit his lip. “Follow me, Captain Kirkland. I have like, tons of things I can tell you.”
“What ever do you mean?” England furrowed his brows and crossed his arms.
He pouted. “The Kosmider, duh. I’ve got information.”
England’s lips firmed into a grim line. “How do I know this is legit? That it’s not a trap?”
Poland leaned against the side of the ship. “God, what the heck? Bring your pistol and your sword. You totally have permission to like, shoot me and stab me and stuff if I’m lying to you.”
England contemplated the situation. Poland, the bubble-headed merchant, had information on the Kosmider he was willing to offer. The information might be sketchy, but what was the risk in listening? He nodded. “How much for the information?”
“No material charge.”
“What?”
Poland's expression turned dead serious. “I have personal reasons for spreading this information. I only ask like, one thing in exchange for it.” England motioned him to continue. Poland leveled him a look with his deep green eyes, and firmly placed his hands on England's shoulders. “Don’t keep it to yourself. You so have to tell everyone you can, that you think is safe…”
“Ah?”
He turned his face toward the sky, to the east, where Medved began thousands of kilometers away. “The more people who know, the sooner he can be saved.” A sharp breeze stifled the last half of his sentence, and England was scarcely able to make it out.
So there were reasons, deeply personal ones. He wasn’t offering this information because he, like every other merchant, wanted to merely take down the Kosmider. He was providing it because someone he knew needed to be ‘saved.’ He didn’t question further. It was none of his business. “If this information is good, I will let others know,” England assured him.
“It’s good.” Poland’s expression was steely, unlike anything England could have imagined on him before now. “Now be fabulous and like, come inside with me now.”
England nodded and followed Poland down into the ship.
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The smell of cigars wafted through the air and increased the murky darkness of the bar, lit only by colored lamps hanging from the ceiling and a strip of lights behind the bar. La Bayamesa was the most popular bar for the servicemen stationed at the Aquila base. Loud music from the islands between Papagaio and Aquila blared across the room, a scratchy record player and a large set of speakers serving as the source.
America was glad that he’d chosen to invite Canada here. There was enough commotion and conversation that no one would notice what they were talking about. They’d have to sit just inches away to even hear each other.
He spotted the back of Canada’s head, his chin length wavy hair a dead giveaway, and strode up to him, sliding a stool out and sitting next to him at the bar.
“Eh? America, there you are.” Canada turned to him, his blue-violet eyes concerned. Absently, he swirled the stirrer in his drink.
“Hey, Canada,” America replied. An awkward silence fell between them, Canada continuing to stare at him in expectance. “…I’m fine.”
“You mean…?”
America nodded. “My story checks out.” He leaned back on his arms. “The colonel warned me, said to be careful from now on but…” He bit his lip. “I’m kind of a… well he was pretty soft.”
“You’re kind of a favorite.”
America shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
Canada took a swig from his glass. “Something is really bugging you, isn’t it? That was a perfect opening for you to tell me how ‘awesome’ you are.”
He grinned mischievously. “I am awesome.”
Canada placed his elbows on the bar and put his chin in his hands. “Where were you?”
“Get me a drink first.”
Canada sighed in exasperation and ordered America a beer. Cuba shot America a dirty look as he slid the frosty glass toward him, muttering something about him being a total freeloader. America was his least favorite customer. He had built up a massive tab, and was only slowly whittling it down. Much to Canada’s dismay, Cuba usually mistook him for his cousin when he went to La Bayamesa, and he had to deal with an earful of angry bartender before clarifying that he was Canada, not America.
“Happy now?” Canada wasn’t truly upset about paying for his cousin’s drink, at least not today. He was just relieved he was okay.
America wiped a bit of foam off his lip. “I was… ahh… well England made me carry through on that promise.”
“Promise?”
Oh. He hadn’t mentioned that to Canada. “When I went to pick up my watch I… had to make a promise to him to get it back.”
“You made a deal with a pirate?” His eyebrows shot up.
“I didn’t have a choice!” America defended. “And he told me it wouldn’t be anything unheroic, so I agreed. I mean I didn’t right away or anything!” Canada glanced to America’s belt, where his prized fob watch was looped. America untied the watch, tossing it back and forth from hand to hand. He adjusted his glasses and took a swig from his glass. “I guess I should tell you what happened from there?” And he began to explain England’s distress call, and the vicious Kosmider, and what had actually happened to his radio.
He skirted around a lot of details, preferring not to talk about those awkward moments with England or the conversations they’d had or the invitation (of sorts) that England had given him to contact him again. America emptied another beer before they were done, and when he finished, Canada was wide-eyed and gaping, his drink forgotten entirely.
“So that’s the end then, right?” Canada finally spoke. “You’ve fulfilled your promise so…”
“D’you mean will I see him again?” America inquired. He was looking down into his glass as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Canada nodded. “O-of course not!” And Canada hoped to God it was the drink causing America’s cheeks to turn bright red as he said that; because America hadn’t described England’s actions in the battle or his night aboard the ship with dismay, but with genuine excitement. Knowing him, he hadn’t even realized he’d told his tale in such a way.
And when he’d talked about England particularly, his voice rose in pitch and his enthusiasm mingled with something else, something Canada couldn’t quite pinpoint. He lit up when he spoke of England. Admiration wasn’t right, pride wasn’t either. He didn’t know what it was, and his mind wouldn’t allow him to think further into it. It was as if there were a subconscious roadblock that disallowed him even considering that his cousin might…
“Well he’s a pirate,” Canada interrupted his own thoughts. “I’m sure he can handle himself just fine, eh?”
America looked to the side, his eyes downcast and a frown on his face. “Y-yeah, I guess so.”
Canada exhaled deeply. “Be careful, America.”
“Huh?”
He turned, placing a firm hand on America's shoulder. “I can’t tell you what to do.” Canada stifled an ironic laugh. “It’s not as if you ever listen to me anyway.” He paused, leveling America a serious look. “I understand why you did what you did, but if you go back, that’s dangerous.”
“It’s not dangerous,” America snapped. His eyes clenched shut, his lips formed a tight line, and he gesticulated rapidly with his hands, as if searching for the right words. “He’s not like… it’s not like he’s dangerous.”
He vaguely wondered if he was dreaming. America, so strong in his convictions, so stalwart in his quest to be the hero, to fight off villains (which had always included pirates, he recalled from when they’d played together as children), was defending this Pirate Captain Kirkland. And he was worried about him. He cared about England. He was of the opinion that he knew America better than anyone else, but this went against everything he knew about his cousin. Did America have any idea what he was saying; was he even consciously aware of what the manner in which he was speaking implied? Canada doubted it.
“Why don’t we go back to the base, eh?” Canada forced a friendly smile. “I bet you’re tired.” America nodded in the affirmative. Canada paid their bill and they left together.
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“Full house,” Liechtenstein proclaimed, her tone a combination of sweet and smug. She placed the cards down onto the deck of the ship, and Prussia, Romano, and Sealand let out various expletives at her hand. Spain laughed and Switzerland shot deadly glares at everyone who was cursing at his sister.
“How the hell does she always win?” Prussia grumbled, throwing his cards into the middle. “I give up, damn.”
Liechtenstein blushed. “I-ah, I suppose I’m just a natural at Poker?”
“She’s got to be cheating!” Romano accused.
Switzerland cocked his rifle. “My sister would not cheat.” His voice was defensive to a degree that terrified Spain’s first mate.
“All right, all right, geez.”
The sun was descending further beyond the horizon as the Victoria’s crew awaited England’s return from Poland’s ship. Spain and Romano had come up about an hour before for the first time, having decided that fresh air was exactly what they needed, despite their injuries. Prussia had, true to his word, been sitting on the deck all day drinking beer (though he hadn’t been as successful at getting everyone to wait hand and foot on him as he’d wished).
“England is taking a while,” Sealand noted.
“Ah well, he has to get the supplies packed up and negotiate what they’ll be trading,” Spain countered. “He’s going to need a lot, so I imagine we could be waiting some time!”
Prussia stretched out his legs. “Well I’m bored of Poker.”
“Only because you’re losing,” Switzerland quipped.
“Nah, maybe I just have something more awesome to do,” he countered.
“Like what?” Romano asked.
Prussia’s lips curled up into a smirk and he laughed. “I just happened to overhear some interesting things between England and the aviator this afternoon.” He paused for effect. “England probably didn’t think I’d hear it, but I’m pretty damn good at eavesdropping if I do say so, which I do.”
“Spill it,” Sealand demanded.
Prussia pulled his legs toward his chest, sitting cross-legged. “Well first.” He gestured with his finger, as if he were about to make a list. “First he confessed his undying love for America, saying that he never thought he’d feel this way about a man, let alone a member of the military. It was… so romantic.” He faked a sniffle and a melodramatic swoon. “The wedding’s next week, by the way.”
Everyone stifled laughter. “That’s not what happened,” Switzerland said with a roll of his eyes, although he couldn’t hide his amusement.
“Oh right. I forgot to mention the wedding night. We should probably make sure we’re not on the ship then, it could get rowdy,” he snickered. “Still it’s good he’s taking this seriously. At first I thought America was just going to be his boy toy, but it looks like he’s really committed to the relationship. That’s fucking awesome. Of course since he’s such a blushing virgin, I guess it makes sense he wasn’t just looking for sex.”
“C’mon, what did you really hear?” Romano shouted. His cheeks were red, as Spain had just tried to pull him into his lap, and he’d smacked his leg and scooted away.
“Right, right. It wasn’t that, but it may as well have been,” Prussia rectified. “He told America his private frequency.” The shock was apparent on everyone’s faces when he finished. “I’m completely serious this time. He told him we were hiding out, and how to get a hold of him. He even went the extra mile and told him how to contact him through Hungary.”
“He can’t just give that information out!” Sealand piped in.
“He’s the captain, so he can do what he wants but…” Spain was tapping his chin. “It’s a pretty serious amount of trust he’s put in America, though.”
“But…the captain hates military,” Liechtenstein countered.
“He does, but for some reason I don’t understand… America seems to be the exception,” Switzerland replied.
Prussia closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ll tell you why. It’s damn obvious. He’s fucking infatuated with the guy.”
Spain laughed. “Ya know, I have to agree with you there!”
“I can’t really reconcile with this,” Switzerland tossed a gun from hand to hand, which made everyone else flinch. “I trust the captain, but how exactly has America earned that level of deep trust?”
Spain tugged on Romano’s arm, and this time his first mate gave in, scooting back toward him. “He’s a good guy, America is. He did help save us.”
“Still…”
“You wouldn’t be on this ship if you didn’t believe in Captain Kirkland, would you?” Spain made eye contact with each and every one of them. They all looked down ruefully. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing, okay?”
“True,” Prussia said. “I mean if he’s attracted to the guy, that could in no way influence his judgment or anything.”
Spain shot Prussia a hard, serious look. “Trust him. He’s been a captain for longer than any of you all have even been pirates.”
“But England getting along with, trusting a member of the military?” Prussia stretched his legs back out. “It’s like I’ve woken up inside some sort of weird alternate universe where it’s always opposite day or something.”
Spain picked up the cards from the middle of the circle they all sat in and began shuffling them. “Well… people change.”
Prussia snorted. “Yeah, who would’ve guessed? All it really takes to soften England up is a hot blond flyboy with baby blue eyes and a hero complex the size of the sky.”
Switzerland stifled an amused smile. “I guess we’ve all been going about getting on his best side entirely the wrong way all this time.”
Spain held up the shuffled stack of cards. “Another round of Poker?”
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“Nothing I’ve told you will like, bring the Kosmider down on its own,” Poland explained. “My source is totally reliable, but even he doesn’t find out all the stuff there is to know. And there are some… limits to what he can gab about to me. If it’s something Russia has only told him, there’s just no way. Russia will know like that, that he was the one to spill it. So, I’ve pretty much told you a lot of what I know.”
England nodded. “Quite understandable.” They were sitting in chairs in Poland’s ‘office,’ and he found himself absently toying with the fabric of a pink blanket that rested on the arm of the recliner he sat in. “Do you happen to know anything about their attacks on pirate ships?”
Poland shrugged. “They totally want to take out all the sky-pirates.”
“I err… figured that much out myself.”
“Everything the Kosmider does is… like, so calculated. They don’t do anything on impulse.”
England placed his hands under his chin and leaned forward. “Bloody tossers probably have a plan to obliterate the Victoria already.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Poland agreed.
“I will find a manner in which to warn as many crews as I can,” he assured. Poland nodded.
“You would so not believe the Kosmider’s forces. They’re just getting bigger by the day. Ten zeppelins have become a hundred,” Poland continued. “It’s totally hard to believe, but this group hasn’t even been around for more than about… six months. That’s when they took Li--- “ He cut himself off. “They’ve got like, insane amounts of money backing their cause.”
England frowned. “Who? Who in their right mind would back such a group?”
Poland rolled his eyes. “Um, obviously they’re not in their right mind, duh. And I have like, no idea actually. He couldn’t give me that information.”
“Perhaps if we could just go to their base and…”
“No can do. Their base is always moving, it’s a like, really huge zeppelin,” he interrupted.
England sighed. “S’ppose that was to be expected. You got anything else?”
“I’ve got one more thing.” Poland reached behind him and pulled a sheet of paper out of an elaborate brass typewriter. “It’s a list of names. Every single ranked member of the Kosmider.” England reached for it and Poland pulled it out of his grasp. “One more promise you totally have to make.”
“What is it?” He raised his eyebrows.
“If you meet like, anyone on this list, you must not hurt them. You can capture them or whatever but… if you kill them I will--- “ His expression darkened, and England found himself alarmed at the change in mood. Oh wait. He understood.
“One of them is your friend, is it not?” he queried. Poland nodded. “I will not harm any of them.” He reached out his hand and offered it to the merchant, who took it and shook.
“It also has some specifics on the mechanics of the zeppelins they use, which I so totally don’t understand but I figured might be useful.” He slipped the paper into England’s hand. “Now let’s get your supplies ready. What kind of stuff do you have to offer in trade? I trust it’s as fabulous as it usually is?”
“Yes, it’s quite a good haul, actually,” he replied. “I’ll have it brought aboard by my crew once I decide what I need from you.” England stood up and pocketed the sheet of paper. He and Poland stepped out into the hallway, the creaky old engine shooting loud puffs of steam as they made their way to Poland’s supply storage.
Pairing: AmericaxEngland, PolandxLithuania, GermanyxItaly, SpainxRomano. Future pairings: GreecexJapan, HungaryxAustria, SwedenxFinland, Belarus--->Russia
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama/Action+Adventure/Alternate Universe
Word Count: 3,313
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: And when he’d talked about England particularly, his voice rose in pitch and his enthusiasm mingled with something else, something Canada couldn’t quite pinpoint. He lit up when he spoke of England. Admiration wasn’t right, pride wasn’t either. He didn’t know what it was, and his mind wouldn’t allow him to think further into it. It was as if there were a subconscious roadblock that disallowed him even considering that his cousin might…
“Well he’s a pirate,” Canada interrupted his own thoughts. “I’m sure he can handle himself just fine, eh?”
“You’re like, totally late,” the merchant called. He was leaning over the side of his ship, his blond hair blowing in the breeze and his ruffled pink shirt flying open.
England rolled his eyes. He’d radioed the Krakus two days before to set up a trade arrangement. Poland never asked questions, and as such, he could think of no one better to trade supplies with. They’d use the goods they’d garnered from the Dezenvòlt Islands raid to procure enough to keep them going for a few weeks, enough for the time they needed to spend out of the sky.
They’d already needed supplies before the Kosmider attack, and as such, he’d already contacted Poland. Now they needed them more. The Victoria docked against the merchant ship, and England stepped over onto the Krakus. “All things considered, it’s astounding we’re only an hour late for our appointment,” he shouted back.
Poland nodded. “Well I’ve so already got your order ready and stuff, so we can make this snappy if you want.”
England was next to Poland now. “We’ll actually need more than we requested.”
Poland flipped his wrist at the pirate. “Whatever, as long as you’ve got the goods, that’s fi-hey wait, your ship is totally trashed.” His head had snapped toward the tattered sails of the Victoria, the orange sunset beaming through the torn fabric. England caught him surveying his bandaged cheek as well.
He gritted his teeth and pulled at the black gloves he’d slipped on to cover his injured hands. “I thought you didn’t ask questions, you bloody bender.”
Poland put his palms in front of him. “Woah, like, back it up. I didn’t ask you anything.” He paused. “But I so totally want to know.” He raised his eyebrows and his lips curled up in a small smile, as if he were expecting a certain answer from him.
England braved it. What could be the harm? “Kosmider attack, surely you know of them.”
“Thought so,” Poland replied, his smile vanishing. He bit his lip. “Follow me, Captain Kirkland. I have like, tons of things I can tell you.”
“What ever do you mean?” England furrowed his brows and crossed his arms.
He pouted. “The Kosmider, duh. I’ve got information.”
England’s lips firmed into a grim line. “How do I know this is legit? That it’s not a trap?”
Poland leaned against the side of the ship. “God, what the heck? Bring your pistol and your sword. You totally have permission to like, shoot me and stab me and stuff if I’m lying to you.”
England contemplated the situation. Poland, the bubble-headed merchant, had information on the Kosmider he was willing to offer. The information might be sketchy, but what was the risk in listening? He nodded. “How much for the information?”
“No material charge.”
“What?”
Poland's expression turned dead serious. “I have personal reasons for spreading this information. I only ask like, one thing in exchange for it.” England motioned him to continue. Poland leveled him a look with his deep green eyes, and firmly placed his hands on England's shoulders. “Don’t keep it to yourself. You so have to tell everyone you can, that you think is safe…”
“Ah?”
He turned his face toward the sky, to the east, where Medved began thousands of kilometers away. “The more people who know, the sooner he can be saved.” A sharp breeze stifled the last half of his sentence, and England was scarcely able to make it out.
So there were reasons, deeply personal ones. He wasn’t offering this information because he, like every other merchant, wanted to merely take down the Kosmider. He was providing it because someone he knew needed to be ‘saved.’ He didn’t question further. It was none of his business. “If this information is good, I will let others know,” England assured him.
“It’s good.” Poland’s expression was steely, unlike anything England could have imagined on him before now. “Now be fabulous and like, come inside with me now.”
England nodded and followed Poland down into the ship.
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The smell of cigars wafted through the air and increased the murky darkness of the bar, lit only by colored lamps hanging from the ceiling and a strip of lights behind the bar. La Bayamesa was the most popular bar for the servicemen stationed at the Aquila base. Loud music from the islands between Papagaio and Aquila blared across the room, a scratchy record player and a large set of speakers serving as the source.
America was glad that he’d chosen to invite Canada here. There was enough commotion and conversation that no one would notice what they were talking about. They’d have to sit just inches away to even hear each other.
He spotted the back of Canada’s head, his chin length wavy hair a dead giveaway, and strode up to him, sliding a stool out and sitting next to him at the bar.
“Eh? America, there you are.” Canada turned to him, his blue-violet eyes concerned. Absently, he swirled the stirrer in his drink.
“Hey, Canada,” America replied. An awkward silence fell between them, Canada continuing to stare at him in expectance. “…I’m fine.”
“You mean…?”
America nodded. “My story checks out.” He leaned back on his arms. “The colonel warned me, said to be careful from now on but…” He bit his lip. “I’m kind of a… well he was pretty soft.”
“You’re kind of a favorite.”
America shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
Canada took a swig from his glass. “Something is really bugging you, isn’t it? That was a perfect opening for you to tell me how ‘awesome’ you are.”
He grinned mischievously. “I am awesome.”
Canada placed his elbows on the bar and put his chin in his hands. “Where were you?”
“Get me a drink first.”
Canada sighed in exasperation and ordered America a beer. Cuba shot America a dirty look as he slid the frosty glass toward him, muttering something about him being a total freeloader. America was his least favorite customer. He had built up a massive tab, and was only slowly whittling it down. Much to Canada’s dismay, Cuba usually mistook him for his cousin when he went to La Bayamesa, and he had to deal with an earful of angry bartender before clarifying that he was Canada, not America.
“Happy now?” Canada wasn’t truly upset about paying for his cousin’s drink, at least not today. He was just relieved he was okay.
America wiped a bit of foam off his lip. “I was… ahh… well England made me carry through on that promise.”
“Promise?”
Oh. He hadn’t mentioned that to Canada. “When I went to pick up my watch I… had to make a promise to him to get it back.”
“You made a deal with a pirate?” His eyebrows shot up.
“I didn’t have a choice!” America defended. “And he told me it wouldn’t be anything unheroic, so I agreed. I mean I didn’t right away or anything!” Canada glanced to America’s belt, where his prized fob watch was looped. America untied the watch, tossing it back and forth from hand to hand. He adjusted his glasses and took a swig from his glass. “I guess I should tell you what happened from there?” And he began to explain England’s distress call, and the vicious Kosmider, and what had actually happened to his radio.
He skirted around a lot of details, preferring not to talk about those awkward moments with England or the conversations they’d had or the invitation (of sorts) that England had given him to contact him again. America emptied another beer before they were done, and when he finished, Canada was wide-eyed and gaping, his drink forgotten entirely.
“So that’s the end then, right?” Canada finally spoke. “You’ve fulfilled your promise so…”
“D’you mean will I see him again?” America inquired. He was looking down into his glass as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Canada nodded. “O-of course not!” And Canada hoped to God it was the drink causing America’s cheeks to turn bright red as he said that; because America hadn’t described England’s actions in the battle or his night aboard the ship with dismay, but with genuine excitement. Knowing him, he hadn’t even realized he’d told his tale in such a way.
And when he’d talked about England particularly, his voice rose in pitch and his enthusiasm mingled with something else, something Canada couldn’t quite pinpoint. He lit up when he spoke of England. Admiration wasn’t right, pride wasn’t either. He didn’t know what it was, and his mind wouldn’t allow him to think further into it. It was as if there were a subconscious roadblock that disallowed him even considering that his cousin might…
“Well he’s a pirate,” Canada interrupted his own thoughts. “I’m sure he can handle himself just fine, eh?”
America looked to the side, his eyes downcast and a frown on his face. “Y-yeah, I guess so.”
Canada exhaled deeply. “Be careful, America.”
“Huh?”
He turned, placing a firm hand on America's shoulder. “I can’t tell you what to do.” Canada stifled an ironic laugh. “It’s not as if you ever listen to me anyway.” He paused, leveling America a serious look. “I understand why you did what you did, but if you go back, that’s dangerous.”
“It’s not dangerous,” America snapped. His eyes clenched shut, his lips formed a tight line, and he gesticulated rapidly with his hands, as if searching for the right words. “He’s not like… it’s not like he’s dangerous.”
He vaguely wondered if he was dreaming. America, so strong in his convictions, so stalwart in his quest to be the hero, to fight off villains (which had always included pirates, he recalled from when they’d played together as children), was defending this Pirate Captain Kirkland. And he was worried about him. He cared about England. He was of the opinion that he knew America better than anyone else, but this went against everything he knew about his cousin. Did America have any idea what he was saying; was he even consciously aware of what the manner in which he was speaking implied? Canada doubted it.
“Why don’t we go back to the base, eh?” Canada forced a friendly smile. “I bet you’re tired.” America nodded in the affirmative. Canada paid their bill and they left together.
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“Full house,” Liechtenstein proclaimed, her tone a combination of sweet and smug. She placed the cards down onto the deck of the ship, and Prussia, Romano, and Sealand let out various expletives at her hand. Spain laughed and Switzerland shot deadly glares at everyone who was cursing at his sister.
“How the hell does she always win?” Prussia grumbled, throwing his cards into the middle. “I give up, damn.”
Liechtenstein blushed. “I-ah, I suppose I’m just a natural at Poker?”
“She’s got to be cheating!” Romano accused.
Switzerland cocked his rifle. “My sister would not cheat.” His voice was defensive to a degree that terrified Spain’s first mate.
“All right, all right, geez.”
The sun was descending further beyond the horizon as the Victoria’s crew awaited England’s return from Poland’s ship. Spain and Romano had come up about an hour before for the first time, having decided that fresh air was exactly what they needed, despite their injuries. Prussia had, true to his word, been sitting on the deck all day drinking beer (though he hadn’t been as successful at getting everyone to wait hand and foot on him as he’d wished).
“England is taking a while,” Sealand noted.
“Ah well, he has to get the supplies packed up and negotiate what they’ll be trading,” Spain countered. “He’s going to need a lot, so I imagine we could be waiting some time!”
Prussia stretched out his legs. “Well I’m bored of Poker.”
“Only because you’re losing,” Switzerland quipped.
“Nah, maybe I just have something more awesome to do,” he countered.
“Like what?” Romano asked.
Prussia’s lips curled up into a smirk and he laughed. “I just happened to overhear some interesting things between England and the aviator this afternoon.” He paused for effect. “England probably didn’t think I’d hear it, but I’m pretty damn good at eavesdropping if I do say so, which I do.”
“Spill it,” Sealand demanded.
Prussia pulled his legs toward his chest, sitting cross-legged. “Well first.” He gestured with his finger, as if he were about to make a list. “First he confessed his undying love for America, saying that he never thought he’d feel this way about a man, let alone a member of the military. It was… so romantic.” He faked a sniffle and a melodramatic swoon. “The wedding’s next week, by the way.”
Everyone stifled laughter. “That’s not what happened,” Switzerland said with a roll of his eyes, although he couldn’t hide his amusement.
“Oh right. I forgot to mention the wedding night. We should probably make sure we’re not on the ship then, it could get rowdy,” he snickered. “Still it’s good he’s taking this seriously. At first I thought America was just going to be his boy toy, but it looks like he’s really committed to the relationship. That’s fucking awesome. Of course since he’s such a blushing virgin, I guess it makes sense he wasn’t just looking for sex.”
“C’mon, what did you really hear?” Romano shouted. His cheeks were red, as Spain had just tried to pull him into his lap, and he’d smacked his leg and scooted away.
“Right, right. It wasn’t that, but it may as well have been,” Prussia rectified. “He told America his private frequency.” The shock was apparent on everyone’s faces when he finished. “I’m completely serious this time. He told him we were hiding out, and how to get a hold of him. He even went the extra mile and told him how to contact him through Hungary.”
“He can’t just give that information out!” Sealand piped in.
“He’s the captain, so he can do what he wants but…” Spain was tapping his chin. “It’s a pretty serious amount of trust he’s put in America, though.”
“But…the captain hates military,” Liechtenstein countered.
“He does, but for some reason I don’t understand… America seems to be the exception,” Switzerland replied.
Prussia closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ll tell you why. It’s damn obvious. He’s fucking infatuated with the guy.”
Spain laughed. “Ya know, I have to agree with you there!”
“I can’t really reconcile with this,” Switzerland tossed a gun from hand to hand, which made everyone else flinch. “I trust the captain, but how exactly has America earned that level of deep trust?”
Spain tugged on Romano’s arm, and this time his first mate gave in, scooting back toward him. “He’s a good guy, America is. He did help save us.”
“Still…”
“You wouldn’t be on this ship if you didn’t believe in Captain Kirkland, would you?” Spain made eye contact with each and every one of them. They all looked down ruefully. “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing, okay?”
“True,” Prussia said. “I mean if he’s attracted to the guy, that could in no way influence his judgment or anything.”
Spain shot Prussia a hard, serious look. “Trust him. He’s been a captain for longer than any of you all have even been pirates.”
“But England getting along with, trusting a member of the military?” Prussia stretched his legs back out. “It’s like I’ve woken up inside some sort of weird alternate universe where it’s always opposite day or something.”
Spain picked up the cards from the middle of the circle they all sat in and began shuffling them. “Well… people change.”
Prussia snorted. “Yeah, who would’ve guessed? All it really takes to soften England up is a hot blond flyboy with baby blue eyes and a hero complex the size of the sky.”
Switzerland stifled an amused smile. “I guess we’ve all been going about getting on his best side entirely the wrong way all this time.”
Spain held up the shuffled stack of cards. “Another round of Poker?”
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“Nothing I’ve told you will like, bring the Kosmider down on its own,” Poland explained. “My source is totally reliable, but even he doesn’t find out all the stuff there is to know. And there are some… limits to what he can gab about to me. If it’s something Russia has only told him, there’s just no way. Russia will know like that, that he was the one to spill it. So, I’ve pretty much told you a lot of what I know.”
England nodded. “Quite understandable.” They were sitting in chairs in Poland’s ‘office,’ and he found himself absently toying with the fabric of a pink blanket that rested on the arm of the recliner he sat in. “Do you happen to know anything about their attacks on pirate ships?”
Poland shrugged. “They totally want to take out all the sky-pirates.”
“I err… figured that much out myself.”
“Everything the Kosmider does is… like, so calculated. They don’t do anything on impulse.”
England placed his hands under his chin and leaned forward. “Bloody tossers probably have a plan to obliterate the Victoria already.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Poland agreed.
“I will find a manner in which to warn as many crews as I can,” he assured. Poland nodded.
“You would so not believe the Kosmider’s forces. They’re just getting bigger by the day. Ten zeppelins have become a hundred,” Poland continued. “It’s totally hard to believe, but this group hasn’t even been around for more than about… six months. That’s when they took Li--- “ He cut himself off. “They’ve got like, insane amounts of money backing their cause.”
England frowned. “Who? Who in their right mind would back such a group?”
Poland rolled his eyes. “Um, obviously they’re not in their right mind, duh. And I have like, no idea actually. He couldn’t give me that information.”
“Perhaps if we could just go to their base and…”
“No can do. Their base is always moving, it’s a like, really huge zeppelin,” he interrupted.
England sighed. “S’ppose that was to be expected. You got anything else?”
“I’ve got one more thing.” Poland reached behind him and pulled a sheet of paper out of an elaborate brass typewriter. “It’s a list of names. Every single ranked member of the Kosmider.” England reached for it and Poland pulled it out of his grasp. “One more promise you totally have to make.”
“What is it?” He raised his eyebrows.
“If you meet like, anyone on this list, you must not hurt them. You can capture them or whatever but… if you kill them I will--- “ His expression darkened, and England found himself alarmed at the change in mood. Oh wait. He understood.
“One of them is your friend, is it not?” he queried. Poland nodded. “I will not harm any of them.” He reached out his hand and offered it to the merchant, who took it and shook.
“It also has some specifics on the mechanics of the zeppelins they use, which I so totally don’t understand but I figured might be useful.” He slipped the paper into England’s hand. “Now let’s get your supplies ready. What kind of stuff do you have to offer in trade? I trust it’s as fabulous as it usually is?”
“Yes, it’s quite a good haul, actually,” he replied. “I’ll have it brought aboard by my crew once I decide what I need from you.” England stood up and pocketed the sheet of paper. He and Poland stepped out into the hallway, the creaky old engine shooting loud puffs of steam as they made their way to Poland’s supply storage.