Author's note:

So you have to know, I'm a huge UKxUK fan. And an extremely huge fan of Captain Kirkland. That's why I had to write this~ This idea was bugging for a week already! Now it's done~ And because the world needs more UKUK, seriously.

As I said, it's UKxUK, which means selfcest, so, please, I know that some people don't like it and it wasn't meant to be offensive in any kind of way, so don't comment if you don't like. It'd make us avoid conflicts we know we wouldn't like to happen.

For other people, review, it makes me happy! ^w^

And if you know how I can improve my pirate talk, feel free to let me know~

"Mé féin, Arthur Kirkland, in ainm Sasana, iarraim ar an domhan draíochta a chuid chumhacht a thabhairt ar iasacht dom, chun go bheidh mé in ann dul go dtí an am atá thart. Thóg mé go dtí an áit ar mhaith liom dul!" means "I, Arthur Kirkland, in the name of England, ask the world of magic to lend me their power, in order to go back in the past. Take me to the place where I want to go!" In Irish. If there's any mistake in this, please tell me, because I don't really trust Google translator. (Edit: Thanks to Kimanda, I've been able to correct the spell. Thank you once again! )

Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Enjoy!

~o~0~o~

"- Alfred, you sodding brat, belt up for once!

- Haha, as if ya could do somethin', old man!"

Right. That was absolutely right. England couldn't do anything, as much as he wanted to do something. America was a superpower now, and even if it was killing England's pride to admit this, America was now stronger than England himself. But it hadn't always been the case. In fact, England used to be the mighty British Empire, the ruler of the Seven Seas, the Pirate that everyone feared. It was at this time that he discovered the New World. A little boy with large blue eyes and sandy blond hair that it was. A child. England had beaten France and won the child. (Of course, you don't have to know that it was the child who had chosen England.) America was then England's colony. As the time passed by, America and England became closer to one other, almost inseparable brothers. England had grown too fond of the boy. But with the wars in Europe, England had lost a lot of money, and he was weakening. He had to make America pay more and more taxes. And by the time, America was a teen, a rebellious one, and he declared independence. Of course England wasn't willing to let his child go. No, he couldn't. He didn't want to let his precious colony go away from him. Sadly, or luckily for America, England had raised the child to be strong. And America had grown really, really strong. As much as he could point a gun at his future ex-caretaker. England could win any war, really. But not against his, oh, so precious colony. He couldn't bring himself to fire the boy. His boy. So he surrendered, kneeling in the mud, rain melting with his tears on his cheeks, and America had left without a word, he had won. And England had lost everything that was important for him. It affected him so much, that even today if you ask him, you'll be able to see pain in his eyes. Not that he would admit it. So there he was, dealing with his ex-colony, a superpower, and he wasn't even strong enough to make the boy shut his mouth. What had he become? Why was he in such a weak state? Where was the British Empire that once lived in his mind, in him? That fearless Pirate…

"- Artie, ya here?" England heard a voice. Again, that American accent. Stupid, idiotic accent.

"- What do you want?" The Englishman snapped back. He wasn't in the mood to deal with America anymore today.

"- Ya were daydreaming, old man!" America leaned in closer to England, forgetting that he was in the conference room.

"- Stop it! First I'm not old, when will you accept this in this little head of yours? Second, don't call me ridiculous nicknames!" England stood up from his seat quickly, the sound of the chair falling behind him accompanying his shouts in the silent room. "And, I have enough of you! Understand? ENOUGH!"With that, England walked to the door and slammed it behind him, leaving all the nations speechless. Never this gentleman had left the conference room like that. Never has he been this mad. America was stunned to silence as he saw his former caretaker slamming the door. The conference was dismissed right after this incident. America and France though, stayed, only in hope that England would return.

~0~

Back in his house, England slammed the door and dropped against it. He closed his eyes and brought his hands to his head, gripping his messy blond hair. Oh America, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I didn't mean that. But you… You're always mocking me. America, my dear America, don't be mad. England was fully confused by his own deeds. He just ran away from his problem, instead of confronting them. Since when was he so weak? He wanted power, he needed this.

He lifted his head to look at the ceiling. He needed to have control over something. Anything. Otherwise he'd just stay as weak as he was right now. Would he lose wars? That was unacceptable. He couldn't let this happen; his English pride wouldn't let that happen. So he thought. How could he regain his power? How could he be just like back in the days- That was it! How could I have not thought of it before! I'm such an idiot! He quickly ran upstairs and searched in his magic books.

"- Where's this bloody book?" After a minute of frenetic research, he finally held the book triumphantly in the air. "That's it!" With a smirk on his face he grabbed a few things he'd need soon, such as chalk and other books. This done, he ran in his basement, a wide space that he usually used for magic. Locking the door behind him, he sat down; putting the books next to him, and opened the one he was searching earlier. This was his book containing his most complicated and dangerous spells. After all, he wasn't going to do anything simple right now. No, not all.

He was going back in the past.

~0~

As dense as he was, America had learnt to know when England was really pissed off. There were little hints of his upcoming wrath, and America knew them by heart. His thick eyebrows slowly coming up together in a frown, or the corner of his lips twitching. Though it didn't stop him from teasing the older. But he couldn't help it, it was too much fun! Right now, that was how America was trying to convince himself he hadn't been too mean to his former mentor. He was pacing up and down next to the door England had so forcefully slammed. I didn't even tease him about his eyebrows! I did absolutely nothing! …Today. With a sigh, the American sat down, debating if he should go see his English friend or not.

~0~

"- Finished!" England said, proud of himself, as he finished tracing the circles for his magic. He put the chalk away, and stood in the middle of the symbols on the ground. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes a brief instant, he tightened his grip on the book. I want to show America I'm not weak. I'm not some old nation, I still have power. He opened his eyes, determination on his face, and he started to cast the spell.

"- Mé féin, Arthur Kirkland, in ainm Sasana, iarraim ar an domhan draíochta a chuid chumhacht a thabhairt ar iasacht dom, chun go bheidh mé in ann dul go dtí an am atá thart. Thóg mé go dtí an áit ar mhaith liom dul!"

Light surrounded him as he read the spell, enveloping him suddenly, and enlightening the whole house. If someone had been in the basement, watching, they would probably be blind now. Needless to say, England closed his eyes at this instant, feeling magic in him, twisting his guts. Oh it wasn't a nice feeling, far from that. England felt as if he was ripped apart, between the present and the past. But he was strong, wasn't he? So he didn't yell, instead he gritted his teeth. And suddenly, he felt nothing. It was a nice feeling this time, wind in his hair, on his face… Almost as if he was falling. Falling? England snapped his eyes open, only to look at the infinite ocean of blue that was the sky. Fear rushing through his veins he turned to see what was on the other side. He shouldn't have. Before the realization came to his mind he found himself loudly and painfully landing on the deck of a ship.

"- Fuck!" His breath was taken away by the hit. "Fuck," he repeated as he coughed up a bit of blood. Luckily he was still feeling his arms and legs. A few coughs later and he was able to breathe normally, but he didn't move. That was when his brain made out voices around him. Of course, he had probably drawn all the attention to himself. It couldn't be worse.

"- Ahoy, who are ye, cockroach?"

"- Whot's t'is scum doin' 'ere?"

"- We should call t'e Cap'n!" A yell was heard right after. England flinched, but he didn't want to see the faces around him. Pirates, he'd say, hearing their loud voices. At least, he knew he was in the past. The spell worked; England felt a bit better. But he never thought of dealing with the pirates…

Loud footsteps were heard, at the same as a familiar voice.

"- Whot's all t'is trouble on me ship?" England couldn't repress a shiver running down his spine. This voice; he was hearing himself. It was so strange, especially his voice with this arrogant accent. He suddenly felt eyes burning on his back, and he decided to move. After all, he was here to talk to… himself. But as soon as he moved an arm to hold him up, the Captain shouted at his crew.

"- Tie t'is scurvy bilge rat up!" And the crew was all too happy to comply to the orders with a simple "Aye, Cap'n!"

"- Wait—Hugh!" England tried to stop them, tell them he was on their side, but one of the pirates hit him on the head, knocking the poor Englishman down. And he sank into darkness, only catching a glimpse of a red coat… And a smirk on this face England knew all too well.

~0~

When England finally woke up, he didn't know where he was, or how much time he'd slept, or better say, was left unconscious. And his head hurt. Bloody headache.

"- Oh, it seems like our guest be awake, uhm?" England looked up, only to find the same green orbs staring at him. He never knew his eyes were that deep, so green emerald, and so fierce and confident. The pirate's thin lips were pinned in a pervert smile directed at him. His hair was messy as ever, but the blond was perfectly contrasting with the red coat. Decorated with golden symbols, the coat seemed comfortable to wear, and at the same time not bad to wear to fight with a sword, or a gun for that matter. In fact, England noticed two old guns on the table where the pirate was actually sitting on. Right next was his hat, big feathers floating behind. Legs crossed, it seems that the pirate was waiting for the Englishman to wake up. It wasn't a bad sight, really. Except when you were England. In this case, then, you had other problems to think of.

England moved, only to find that his wrists were tied together, just like his ankles.

"- Bloody hell!" England started to struggle against the ropes, but he only earned more friction with the ropes, making his skin burn. He stopped when he understood it was hopeless and looked up to see the pirate smirking at him.

"- Want t' escape, lad?" England twitched. Lad? He usually was the one to say that. Well, it was actually him, in a way. The Englishman glared at the pirate.

"- Let me go," England replied. The pirate uncrossed his legs and held his hands up, smirking wider.

"- I not be holdin' ye," His green eyes pierced England's as he walked closer to him. "So, who are ye?" He continued, with a serious expression on his face, as he kneeled in front of England. The Englishman looked back, not flinching this time.

"- I am the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northen Ireland," England decided to go straight forward, using his full name. The pirate raised a brow at the name. Oh he had noticed that the stranger looked awfully similar to himself, but this was just confirming his doubts.

"- …" The Captain stayed silent a few second, staring into the painfully almost grey eyes of the other. His eyes were definitely not as bright green as they should be. If the pirate was thinking right, this man would be… himself, so why were his eyes so empty? "And whot ye be doin' 'ere, scum?" He wasn't as surprised as he should have been. He was used to magic as well, but why was this United Kingdom, as he called himself, doing here? Didn't he know that travelling in time was dangerous and forbidden?

"- I'm here to talk with you," England answered the question, looking back in the pirate's green and confident eyes. Somehow at the moment he felt like this confidence was contagious. "I have a problem, and I'd like us to talk about it," He finished, hoping that the pirate would agree to help him. He should have thought about it first, really. After all, he perfectly knew how he'd react, since he was him. But he was still hoping.

"- Haha!" The pirate burst out of laughter much at England's displeasure. "So ye came 'ere hopin' that t'e British Empire would 'elp ye?" He suddenly swapped his laughter for a serious expression. "Such a pussy ye be. Are ye that weak ye can't even solve yer own problems alone, rat?" The pirate looked at the Englishman with disgust and disdain. He seemed disappointed. "And that be whot I become?"

"- I'm not bloody weak you fucking twat!" England snapped, growling at the pirate who just unconsciously pointed out the problem. And damn it hurt if even himself was saying that he was weak. That is, until England understood the pirate's last words. "Wait, what? Y-You know who I really am?" England mentally cursed himself for stammering.

"- It be obvious, don't ye think? Ye look too much like me for not bein'… Meself." The British Empire brought his face closer to England as if to analyse everything on his face. "Ye come from t'e future, don't ye?" Now that England realised it, the pirate was only a few inches away from him. He felt his cheeks burning at the proximity and found himself muttering.

"- Y-Yes," He replied simply. God he must have looked so unsure right now. He quickly pulled himself together. "I need your help," He continued firmly. "I want to regain my power," He had finally said it.

The pirate looked at him, frankly surprised.

"- So ye definitely be weak, scum. And ye want yer power, me power?" He looked at England angrily. "Ye gonna have t' fight f'r that, ye know. I not be willin' t' give it like that, even if ye be meself," The pirate narrowed his eyes, threatening; and England looked back as fiercely as he could, even if the pirate was, he had to admit it, scary.

"- I will fight. But I need this power," The Englishman struggled against the rope again. The pirate didn't seem to notice, or care.

"- Why?"

This simple question made England stop struggling, even stop breathing for a second. "Why?" He repeated, eyes wide. He certainly never thought of giving an answer to the pirate. But now he thought about it, his reason was… Something the pirate would not like.

"- …To show someone I'm not weak," At this, it was the pirate's turn to shot his eyes wide open.

"- Someone? Yer doin' that f'r someone? I've never let meself be attached t' someone, in order t' keep strong! And yer tellin' me that ye be weak because o' someone! Scurvy little cockroach!" The British Empire reached for England's neck forcefully. "Yer ruinin' everythin' I've done! All I've lived f'r, and ye have t'e balls t' come here t' tell me that?" England let out a low whisper as the pirate tightened his grip on his neck, pinning him against the wall behind. But the English man wasn't willing to give up; he still had his pride, damnit!

"- That's why I… need your help! So I'll change… that, right?" England lied, starting to have difficulties to breathe; he'd still be doing that to show America his strength. The pirate looked down at his prey suffocating.

"- Aye, I will 'elp ye," A wide and evil smirk made its way on the pirate's face. This was probably not good for England. But at this point, the Englishman didn't care, he just wanted to breathe; which he did as soon as the pirate let go of his neck. Coughing and breathing heavily, he spoke.

"- U-Untie me, then," He looked up at the smirking pirate who apparently wasn't even thinking about the possibility of untying England.

"- Ye act like a pussy, so I'll use ye as one. And I needed some entertainment, so yer here jus' fine," The smirk grew wider if it was possible. England didn't have time to answer or say anything, because a pair of angry lips caught his own in a rough kiss. Gasping at the unwanted contact, England unconsciously parted his lips a bit. The pirate took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue in the other's mouth, tasting everything there. England didn't respond the kiss; he struggled against the rope once more, trying to push the pirate away, unsuccessfully.

He didn't remember he was that strong. The difference between him and the pirate was huge. England was weak. But the pirate said he'd help him, right? So he'd have to fight, and he was more than ready to do it right now. He locked his eyes on the pirate's, and forcefully pushed his tongue against the pirate's wet muscle, earning a growl. He fought, truly, with all his might. The tongues were awkwardly dancing together once in England's mouth, then in the British Empire's mouth, and finally back in the Englishman's hot cavern. When the kiss became heated and the two men were breathless, they pulled apart, panting.

"- Aye, I knew ye'd fight, pussy," The pirate commented smirking from ear to ear. "Ye may be weak, but at least ye have guts t' fight me," He continued, staring at England's flushed face with contentment. "Ye will be rewarded if yer strong enough t' break t'e rope, deal?" The pirate offered. He had done the knot himself, so he perfectly knew that the other blond could untie himself if he really wanted to. Now, to make him realise he was strong enough, he had a great idea in his mind. It'd sound a bit narcissistic, but hell if he wasn't handsome. And he needed a little amusement. After all, he was on the sea, and it wasn't like he never had thoughts about… touching himself. Now that will be easier. This way, he'll see if his future self will be able to overpower him.

England looked at the pirate, wondering what he was actually thinking about, since he seemed deep in thoughts. But this pirate preparing a plan would never be good, especially if you're tied up. England struggled more, burning his skin a bit more.

"- What are you going to do?" He snapped the pirate out of his thoughts but instantly regretted it. The pirate looked at him, a smug expression on his face and amusement on his eyes. The pirate growled in answer and looked at the door briefly, making sure he had locked it, before leaning in closer to England. His lips were so close to England's that when he spoke their lips touched slightly.

"- Seems like ye actually liked t'is kiss I so gratefully gave ye, so I'll grace ye by more presence o' me body on yers, how does t'at sound, lad?" England twitched. He definitely hadn't thought of that when he went back in time. But in some sick way, he had enjoyed the kiss. Alright, maybe mostly because he hadn't kissed someone in a long time. Okay, to be honest he's had some one night stands, but a true, real kiss… It had been awhile. And he could see this as a challenge after all, winning a kiss battle against himself, especially against the pirate he was, would be a proof of his strength somehow. If the pirate was to kiss him again, he'd fight back without hesitating.

And he didn't have to wait long. The pirate closed the distance between them in a fierce kiss, and shoved his tongue down England's throat. Surprised, England accepted the foreign muscle in his mouth a moment, before twisting his tongue around the pirate's. The kiss wasn't lovingly or passionate, just rough, heated and forceful. Both men were fighting, tongues danced against the other again, melting saliva in both mouths. Groans were heard, and England felt the pirate smirk against his mouth, pulled away just a bit and looked in England's eyes, which were shining a bit greener. A thin trail of saliva was still connecting the two, but was quickly cut when the pirate spoke.

"- See, not hard t' fight, be it?" England barely glared at him. And then the British Empire leaned again, but this time, instead of kissing England, he purred on England's neck. "Don't let anyone say things 'bout ye, lad. Yer stubborn enough t' put that away, and have yer own opinion 'bout yerself, now ain't ye?" England's eyes widened a bit as he looked back at the bright green eyes that were devouring him. "I, as bein' ye, tell ye that yer strong, otherwise ye wouldn't be worth being' me," Without letting England time to answer, the pirate bit on England's flesh, hard enough to draw a small yelp from England, but soft enough not to let a mark of his teeth on the skin.

"- Nngh… W-Wait!" England groaned, trying to get the pirate's attention. But the British Empire looked at him only after sucking and leaving a red mark on the other's neck.

"- And whot exactly should I be waitin'?" The pirate purred again against England's neck, breathing small puffs of air on the white skin of his double. With a moan, not a pleasure one, of course, the Englishman replied.

"- Bloody hell, untie me!" It was so frustrating to not be able to move! If only he could be as fierce as the pirate was, he could run his fingers in the other's hair; bring his head closer and lock their lips and not letting go, and- What was he thinking? No, he wanted to go, to run away from this madness! Even though the air against his neck was absolutely agreeable, and he wanted to taste more of the pirate's mouth, and oh, his fingers. Those fingers could be put to much better use, just as this filthy mouth of his!

"- We had a deal, scum, untie yerself," The British Empire replied in a sing-song voice before claiming another spot of England's neck. England squirmed, wanting nothing than to get rid of the ropes. But he was too focused on the mouth sucking on his neck to notice the pirate's hands travelling down his shirt. He struggled again, feeling that the ropes were moving a bit. Maybe he'd be able to remove them, maybe-

"- Aaahh!" England let out a moan, forgetting his thoughts for a moment as the pirate found a way to his nether regions, and was pressing his palm on there. This simple touch sent jolts of pleasure through his veins, and he had to bit his lower lip not to moan any louder as the pirate moved his hand, sometimes pressing a bit harder. Speaking of which, the British Empire stopped sucking on England's neck and looked at the squirming and blushing double beneath him. Oh, he hasn't had that much fun in a long time. He could tease England again and again without growing bored. But without growing aroused? That was a different kettle of fish. Because, he must admit, the sight of himself being so defenseless, open and blushing (damnit he never blushes, he's a pirate) was quite exciting. England glared at him with half-lidded eyes.

"- Fuck you," He started, determination and lust darkening his eyes. "I'm not letting you go any further, twit," And then England struggled harder against the rope. The pirate wasn't doing much to stop him. After all, he was doing this for himself, he didn't want to turn weak in the future, so he had to help himself.

"- Really? Come an' try, lad, I be waitin'," With that, the pirate caught England's lips in another needy and hungry kiss. Tongues battling against each other, slowly but surely the two men became addicted in each other's movements, scents, everything, that the pirate ripped England's shirt open and brought their body closer, pressing his own clothed chest to the bare one, creating a lovely friction. He earned a moan from the man beneath. Oh, lovely sound. Sliding his second hand to England's trousers, he struggled a bit with the belt, growling in impatience in the kiss. As he finally threw the belt away, he unzipped the piece of clothes that stopped him from having his prize. England squirmed more and more, almost winning against the ropes. Never breaking the kiss for more than a second, the two were breathless. The pirate pulled England's trousers down, and he was about to do the same with the boxer, when a pair of strong arms were wrapped around his neck.

"- Ah-" The pirate was pushed to lay on his back. Speechless, he looked at England, who was smirking down at him triumphantly. Lord, this smug expression… The British Empire smirked back.

"- Seems like ye've been strong enough t' break t'e ropes, haven't ye?"

"- You don't look that much surprised, bilge rat," England replied, raising a brow, a bit still breathless from their last long kiss.

"- Of course not, I was sure t'at ye, t'at I, t'at we, were stronger than some ropes," And there he went with his smirk, not moving from under the Englishman's body. "An' don't ye dare usin' me own insults against meself, twit," The pirate continued, teasing England.

"- The same applies for you, pirate," England answered with an equal if not wider smirk on his face. "And how are you going to make me stop, scum?"

"- Simple, like t'is," As the pirate crashed their mouths together again, he felt the other's hands running through his messy hair, making him kiss even harder. With a quick thrust of his hips, England grinded their clothed erection together, making a contact they both wanted from the start. The two moaned together at the same time in the kiss.

"- Fuck!" The pirate cursed as he jerked his hips upwards. One time, then two, then every time, starting a pace between them, only to have more contact with each thrust. Lust clouded their eyes, and absolutely nothing could stop them. The friction built heat between them, and the kiss became clumsier. England thrust particularly hard, and they both let out a loud moan.

"- You're acting like a slut," England commented, aware that he just did the same thing as the pirate. But how could he not? It felt so good. This simple friction was an absolute treasure right now, but he wanted more. Yes, more and more, everything that the pirate could give him.

"- Yer one t' talk!" The British Empire suddenly switched their positions and straddled a surprised England, grinding their erections harder than before. In a quick movement, he pulled down England's boxer. The Englishman gasped as the cold air hit his member, and busied himself with removing every piece of clothes that was covering the pirate's nether regions. Once this was done, the same idea hit their mind, at the same time, and they crashed their lips together, meeting the other halfway, and fighting for dominance. None of the two was willing to be on the bottom. England pushed the pirate to the side, rolling on the wooden floor of the Captain's cabin. The pirate responded by struggling and, never breaking the kiss, switched their positions to straddle England once more. They continued like that, until England finally managed to pin the pirate down with a more forceful kiss, and pressed his body to the pirate's.

"- You're mine," England simply said, smirking at the pirate, who smirked back, and opened his legs, as if to tell England that he was waiting. England carefully positioned himself at the pirate entrance, and thrust in. None of the two cared about the fact it was rough. Each one wanted the other so badly that they didn't mind.

"- Hannngh!" The pirate gripped England's hair, obviously not used to be the one receiving the attention but he bucked his hips upwards. As much as England wanted his double to feel good, he couldn't help but thrust even more in the tight hole around his erection. A moan escaped from his lips as he thrust harder, burying himself entirely in the pirate.

"- Aahhh g-ge' on wit' it now!" The pirate groaned, more in discomfort than pleasure. At this time, England realised that he had the British Empire at his knees, begging him. The mere thought of being able to top the pirate sent jolts of lust down his veins, and he complied with the pirate's demand. He started to pull out, taking a firm grip of the double's hips, and then slammed back in the pirate's forcefully stretched entrance. England couldn't repress a moan of pleasure. God that was good. The feeling of his erection being surrounded by heat, made him lose all coherent thoughts, and he thrust again in the pirate, who was squirming a bit less, and probably starting to enjoy the intrusion. Moans, groans, and the sound of flesh against flesh filled the cabin. They were both lost in pure ecstasy. Though, England thought, there was something he could do to make the pirate beg even more. Finding that sweet spot. He'd make the pirate scream, there was no way he'd go without that. England thrust faster and deeper each time, losing himself in the pirate's groans of pleasure, the hands in his hair, and the tight hole around his member. With a particularly deep and hard thrust, he finally drove the British Empire mad.

"- AAAHHH! FUCK!" The pirate cursed loudly in a moan, and bucked his hips. England smirked at this, he had found it, and he wasn't going to leave it like that. "I be gonna kill ye if ye don' move right now!"

"- What an impatient pirate you are," England replied smugly, and thrust again, harder and deeper, hitting once again the pirate's prostate, and earning more moans, each time louder. They were both thrusting at a quick pace, sometimes roughly kissing, sometimes breathing heavily or moaning loudly. Hands gripped whatever was near them, and both men were reduced to moaning messes.

With a particular deep thrust on his abused prostate, the pirate screamed of pure pleasure and saw white. He released the pressure in his stomach without warning and came on both of their exposed tummies. The pirate's scream and the feeling of the hole tightening around him made England cum right after, releasing his seed in his double with a scream of ecstasy.

Both completely spent, they laid on the floor as England pulled himself out of the pirate. Trying to catch their breath, no words were exchanged for a moment. The sound of breathing was the only sound resounding in the cabin.

"- See, yer strong," The pirate started, looking at the ceiling. England looked at him. "Even if ye want t' show somethin' t' someone, believe in yerself first. Yer stronger than me, t'e British Empire, ye have t'e strength t' rule t'e world," He continued, and finally looked at England, who seemed to be blushing at those words. The pirate noticed that England's eyes were finally as bright as they should have been from the start. They stayed silent for a few minutes before England broke the silence.

"- Thank you, British Empire."

The pirate smiled. A genuine and warm smile, that probably nobody had ever seen on the pirate's face. Sleepiness taking over them slowly, England found himself snuggling closer to the pirate and closed his eyes.

~0~

The next day, England was gone, and the pirate woke up alone on the floor of his cabin. He'd have to clean the mess later. But somehow, he felt stronger. He knew that in the future he'd be even stronger than how he was right now, even if he was growing fond of someone. A smirk on his lips, he started to get up, but the sudden pain on his low back made him lay down immediately. He cursed and silently promised himself to never be on the bottom again.

~0~

England woke up in his basement, half naked. He didn't know how much time he'd slept or how much time he was gone from his time, so he got up and quickly ran upstairs to grab new clothes. Flashes of the last night kept running through his mind as he cleaned himself in a quick shower and put his clean clothes on. Noticing the hour, he rushed outside. He was late for the meeting, and a gentleman was never late!

Luckily he came in the meeting room in time, even first; nobody was there yet.

"- Hey, Artie!" He had spoken too fast it seemed. America entered right after England, wearing his usual goofy grin on his face. England turned to look at his ex-colony, determination in his eyes.

America twitched a bit (keywords: a bit), at the look on England's face. He seemed way more confident and fierce than the last time he saw him. It reminded him the first times they were together, when America was still a child. England was just like that. Just like… A pirate.

"- America, sit down," His voice also was fierce, America noticed. The American gulped and obeyed immediately, not really wanting to know what would happen if this England was mad.

Yes, England thought, the British Empire might not be here anymore, but I still have his strength. England looked down at the obedient America, a smirk on his lips.