Disclaimer: I don't own these characters and I'm making no money from this!

A/N: Written for a prompt on the 'Hetalia Kink Meme' (on Livejournal). Credit for the idea goes to the anonymous poster! I'm posting this publically so I feel more obligated to finish _;… Historical inaccuracies!

A Swashbuckling Tale

The quickly erected spit on the beach crackled merrily as they cooked a dinner, repairs being done by the crewmen in shifts. The firelight cast a glow in the otherwise dark beach and America watched the other nation with interest.

"It's done! Here is yours, United." England handed him a burnt haunch of meat.

"Oh uh…Thanks!" USA bit into it and tried to smile. It seemed England's cooking had been worse before he had known him. What he wouldn't give for a juicy hamburger right about now…

'Stop that! The hamburger is what got you into this mess in the first place!!' America rarely told himself off, but if there was anything this situation could be called it was RARE!

His stomach grumbled all over again, but at England's suspicious look he covered it up by eating the haunch with more fervour.

The pirate nation seemed satisfied by that, relaxing and pulling out some maps and parchment to scratch plans for something or other on.

'I guess this is kind of peaceful.' America thought as he finished up his food and lay back on the ground.

A few moments later the blond man rolled around, simultaneously managing to feel sticky AND itchy from all the sand. 'This crap is everywhere!' America thought, unable to fight the urge to sit up and pull off one solid boot, pouring the grainy stuff out from inside.

No wonder his UK always got so miserable and unbearable like he had sand in his pants. The man probably still did to this day!!

"THAT'S it. I can't take it anymore." America muttered, pulling off his other boot and setting the pair aside a boulder.

England glanced up briefly, but otherwise ignored his newly acquired companion, thick eyebrows furrowed intensely as he scribbled on his parchments. 'That's right. We're close…' The tousle-haired man scrutinized his map.

Something heavy landed in the sand near him, causing the man to start slightly and spy that it was only the odd jacket of some type that United had been donning. Bloody ugly style, that. The pirate nation put it off, but when a flimsy black cloth fell just near the coat, England gradually stopped what he was doing altogether, staring as United pulled off one article of clothing after the other.

"What… in the bloody name of Davey Jones's Locker are you doing?" England cleared his throat, his cheeks strangely burning.

"Going for a bath." The spectacled man raised an eyebrow and unbuttoned the top of his pants.

Electric green eyes raked down the expanse of bare… strong… chest suddenly on display.

His gaze went lower to the loose pants and then eyes flicked back up to the other man's face, United catching him in the act. England immediately averted his gaze. "Put back your clothes!"

USA almost sniggered. "Why?"

England glared balefully, voice domineering. "You shall not bathe until I deem it necessary."

America's lips quirked upward and he rolled his blue eyes, shrugging. If the other man felt more trustful having him on a tight leash then he decided to be complacent and began putting back on his boots and clothes. Getting back to his time machine tonight and assessing its damage was kind of a no-go with all the rangy pirates around.

His own gun was pretty much useless by now because of his emptied bullets, and he wasn't really eager to be on the bad end of that damn sword anymore. He flushed slightly as he slipped his shirt back over his head. 'Well not REALLY anyway.'

"OK no bath." USA agreed cheekily, a sly smile playing on his mouth as he took long strides over to the other. "But what you're saying is," He leant over to the seated tousle-haired man's ear, his glasses glinting naughtily from the fire. "…You'd prefer me dirty."

The ear turned red and the pirate nation narrowed his eyes, pressing a gloved palm against America's broad chest to push him back a few inches.

"Don't forget you are MY plunder." England's expression was indignant, his gaze piercing. "When the time comes, I'll have you any way I want!"

The seated man gave America a final shove, and the tall blond nation felt unapologetically thrilled at having riled him up.

"You sure about that? I think maybe you'd want me to have you, instead."

The indomitable England blushed, refusing to hear any more.

"That, United, will be the day when I ally myself with the likes of France!" He scorned.

USA blinked.

"Now come over here and look at this." England snapped a piece of paper sharply.

"I have it on good knowledge that France," The pirate nation spat that same name like it was sour wine. "Is here." One gloved finger circled a patch of land on the neighbouring isle where Spain had docked.

"Oh yeah?" America asked idly, looming over the seated nation's shoulder, peering curiously at the rough map.

"Tomorrow we strike!"

Never ones to give up an opportunity to mess with France, the Pirates spent the rest of the night and next day preparing for a raid on the French ball set to be held in the coastal town on the populated island.

When the afternoon sun was high in the sky, the crew returned to the patched up ship to gather their gear.

As soon as America's combat boots clucked against the weathered wooden floorboards, the tall blond immediately headed towards the cargo bay to try to find his time machine. 'Finally! A chance!' He thought feverishly.

"Hold it." England appeared behind him, and… was that a gun pressed into his back?! "Remove those garments, United."

USA paused at the authoritative command and then turned around with a furtive smile as he looked at the shorter man. He was beginning to think he liked this strangely diabolical side of the other nation. Just realizing that, America knew what a mess he was in when he found himself… undeniably attracted to England of all nations.

"But you didn't want me to last night?" USA smiled, full of himself with the half-question, half-statement.

England's face flared with heat enough to match the colour of his hat and put away his flintlock gun. "Cur!" The pirate nation threw something at him and America caught it, holding it out in front of himself for a better look.

"Replace your jacket with that one. Otherwise we will be noticed in no time at all!"

USA slipped on the muted blue coat with silver trimming and looked at the opposing red of England's. He wisely kept his foot out of his mouth.

Stealthily having made it into the other island's town, they hid and surrounded the tropical mansion where France's ball was being held. England's pirates had been instructed to steal AS MUCH loot as they could possibly carry as soon as the thick eyebrowed man gave the signal.

America and England knocked out the unsuspecting guards by a back set of doors and immediately hid behind two symmetrical pillars. US peeped around to look inside the grand ballroom. It was brightly lit and crowded with more people than he had expected. 'Hey, not bad!' The blue eyed man thought appreciatively, spying a string quartet of musicians in the corner playing a melody of beautiful music as the rich French men and women danced.

At the head table, a grandeur ice sculpture of a swan across a splash of frozen water stood as a centerpiece where France himself sat laughing with some of his monarchs. USA watched as a bandaged Spain entered through the main grand hallway and made his way over to take a seat there as well, being welcomed by France with a handshake.

England's face looked like he'd sucked on a lemon. 'BOTH of them!' …A chance for double victory!

"I'll give the signal to storm this place." The pirate nation said lowly to America, reaching inside his coat for his gun.

"Hold on a second-" US replied, quickly glancing inside again. He adjusted his glasses, eyes rolling up in consideration. He really hadn't read that far into H.G. Well's book to know if there was a consequence for getting involved in this kind of thing. Actually, did he even read that book at all? Now that he thought about it…

England frowned at him expectantly.

A fast tango piece of music began in the ballroom in honour of Spain being an unanticipated guest.

"Oh what the hell." America blurted out loud. HE was the one who decided how his operation went. 'And there's no time like the present!'

England stared in confusion.

Suddenly United's larger, warm hand clasped onto his own. Before he knew it, United was at the back doors, twisting the handle and striding into the ballroom with England in tow like he owned the place.

"Hey! How's it going!" US waved and smiled at random bewildered guests as if he knew them, pulling his companion behind him into plain view. Couples were pushed happily out of America's way as they moved swiftly through the crowd onto the shiny floor.

"Y-you treasonous bastard-!" The shorter man sputtered in shock as he was drawn alongside United.

His mysterious fairy only gave a playful smile in reply and stopped, reaching out to place one hand on England's waist, the other bringing their clasped ones up beside them in classic position. The pirate nation could only put his own awkwardly free hand upon America's shoulder.

"What are you doing!" England whispered in outrage.

"Storming the place… What else?" America said voice full of humour.

As one, everyone around them started dancing and there was no choice but to follow – a blur of red and blue in a sea of creams and white dresses.

"At this rate we'll be captured!" England said quickly.

"At this rate who cares?" America spoke against the shorter nation's cheek, hiding from the frown that probably earned.

For some reason he'd expected the British man to be dragged around after him, but the shorter nation was matching the steps perfectly for speed, knowing exactly when to turn, hop, and when to switch.

It occurred to the hero that he probably shouldn't be surprised. England had been the one to teach him to dance in the first place, after all.

As they spun to the music, USA held the shorter man closer in genuine fun, a grin crossing his lips as England's arm circled his neck at the absence of space.

"Who," The green-eyed man breathed. "…is leading who here?" England demanded, his breath hot along America's neck.

Heart beating in exhilaration, USA picked the pirate nation up and turned them around in an obnoxious show of strength, setting the startled man's feet back to the floor. Not giving him anytime to react, America started their dance again in a completely different direction, forcing a large French woman to bungle out of the way.

"I think we both know who's leading here, England." The blue-eyed man said teasingly.

Green eyes widened from under the brim of his large hat, and he nearly gasped in vertigo when the taller man had the gall to dip him low.

'This… this ruffian!' England breathed in quickly as the taller man trapped him, one hand a burning presence on his lower back, the other trailing up his arm to hold him still.

The indomitable England…held… like his weight was a pleasurable nothing to the larger man...

A warm palm slid inside his jacket and England's breath hitched, his fingers at United's back crumpling the fabric of his blue coat in trembling fists. He closed his eyes, thick eyebrows lowered, lips pushing out to tentatively receive United's bold kiss…

USA's hand stopped searching around when he found what he was looking for and he smirked. 'Aha! There it is!' In one great motion America pulled England's gun out into the open, and aimed, cocking the hammer back all the way with his thumb, he pulled the trigger.

BLAM!!

Gun powder exploded and the whole room burst into a frenzy of shocked screams as America's shot blew the extravagant centerpiece at the head table into ice cubes.

The monarchs sitting there immediately began scattering like crazed chickens and Spain threw himself with a yell under the heavy furniture, by now used to being mercilessly attacked.

"Ahh!!" France stood gaping at America and England before the Spanish nation's arm reached up from his cover and grabbed the long-haired man down for safety.

The blond chuckled and grinned at the crazy chaos, forgetting where and when he was at the moment.

England, who had very nearly been dropped on his head in the commotion, stepped out of United's now slack embrace his cheeks darkened in a mixture of anger and disbelief.

"What?" United questioned with a laugh, smoking gun still cocked in his hand.

England struggled to find the words, his face going through an impressive range of emotions until it settled on shocked. "DUCK!"

"Arh!!" A burly Frenchmen was knocked backwards by one of England's pirate crew who had instantly entered through every door or window of the ballroom possibly imaginable at the gunshot signal. The two nations threw themselves in opposite directions out of the way as the comatose man crashed to the floor.

England drew his sword and flipped a nearby table for protection as the unprepared French guards started yelling curses and throwing themselves into the fray. One swipe knocked the flimsy metal lances from their grips.

America raised the old-fashioned gun shot out the massive chandelier, crystals tinkling to the ground in a shower of rainbows as the dwindling sunlight passed through them.

"ZUT ALORS!" France cried, popping up from his hiding place. "That was an antique!!"

The building became a riot of disgruntled parties as England's pirates did their duties of pillaging the pearls and jewellery of the upper-class. America ran alongside the outlaws, his boots thudding heavily through the disrupted town until they met the soft sand of the beach.

The hero looked up and noticed that Spain's battered ship had been taken over by the scurvy men, and now most-assuredly belonged to England.

USA looked to his side where the thick eyebrowed nation was panting, a self-righteous smile on his face.

"For the mighty England!" A bald and scarred pirate roared, and the others shouted in approval.

The crimson-coated man tipped his hat with his sheathed sword and turned his contented smug gaze to look at United out of the corner of his eye.

"…And for ME, too!" USA returned the same expression and aimed his firearm randomly into the air, shooting off to emphasize his importance. A nearby palm tree shook from the impact and a few coconuts hit the ground.

England scowled and grabbed the primitive gun from the other's grip.

The night came fast in the islands and the successful escape saw one old and one new pirate ship sailing into the blue.

End Part 3

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