America subconsciously straightened the shield on his arm before raising his hand to knock on the door to France's house. He hadn't really wanted to come to the Halloween party, but of course France had just given his weird laugh and insisted in that perverted voice of his. Of course all the countries would be coming, France had said. America seriously doubted that the world would succumb to France's cajoling, but he came anyway. America was jerked from his thoughts by the door opening.

"Oh so you have come," France teased, "For a few minutes I was worried you wouldn't." He was of course wearing that frilly red outfit he had always worn during the times when America had still been a little group of colonies.

"Someone has to save everyone from you!" America exclaimed, proudly bearing Captain America's very patriotic uniform, "And I'm just the hero for the job!"

"If you say so." He laughed his creepy French laugh, then stepped aside to let America through the doorway.

Once inside, America surveyed the situation. Orange and black streamers were strung across all the walls. Tables with snacks and beverages also had bowls of candy with zombie hands in them. A few paper skeletons hung from the walls, and various Halloween-themed stickers adorned almost every available surface. He set his shield down near the food table so as not to forget it, then turned his attention to the other countries' costumes.

Greece, of course, wore cat ears and a tail. Japan, surprisingly not dressed as a cat, sported a pair of red and white fox ears on his head and a red plumed tail. A Japanese kitsune, America thought, remembering the story about the fox shape-shifter his quiet Asian friend had once told him. Italy hovered around Germany dressed as a playful puppy. Germany, who had clearly been forced to come by his rather enthusiastic friend, wore shaggy brown ears and paws and torn clothes, a pair of werewolf fangs poking out of his mouth. Prussia, decked out in a red and black devil costume complete with a barbed tail and horns, was flirting shamelessly with Romano, who wore tattered clothes spattered with fake blood. Spain, shooting jealous glares at Prussia, stood off to the side in a gold-embroidered matador outfit, the long red bullfighter's cape trailing behind him. China wore a cute panda suit. America couldn't even tell what Russia was supposed to be. Canada had just walked in wearing a ghost costume.

Who the hell is that? America thought to himself, seeing an unfamiliar country talking to Japan. The man, only a few inches shorter than himself, wore an ankle-length red jacket with gold-embroidered black cuffs. He could only just see the bottoms of very realistic-looking brown leather boots. A wickedly sharp curved sword hung from his waist. A black three-pointed hat rested crookedly on the crown of his head, white feathers sticking out of the top. It was probably the most realistic pirate costume America had ever seen in his life. He didn't recognize the country even after studying the costume. So why not have a little fun? America thought.

America walked proudly over to the pirate country and draped an arm over his shoulders.

"Does your flagship happen to need a captain?" America said in his best Steve Rogers voice. He wasn't nearly prepared when the mysterious pirate country turned to look at him, and nearly jumped out of his red boots.

"Ain't ye a bit young t' be with this crowd?" England said in very convincing pirate speak, shrugging off America's arm. I should've known it was England, America mentally slapped himself, That must be his actual pirate outfit from when he was a teen and sailed around plundering the high seas. America hated to admit it, but England didn't actually look half-bad in his pirate getup, no longer the stuffy sweatervest-wearing country he was today.

"Um, n-no," America countered, cursing his wavering voice, "A hero can stop any pirate!"

"But can ye stop the infamous Cap'n Arthur Kirkland, lad?" England laughed. America tried to smile.

"Ohonhonhon, I see you have met our belligerent teenage Angleterre, have you Amérique?" France intruded, slinging an arm around a disgusted America's shoulders and grinning, "I remember when the rumors flew about dear Arthur in the sixteenth century! Sailing the seas, swordfighting on deck, making sweet amour to a different person every ni—" he was cut off temporarily by a glare from England that could have curdled milk. There's modern England, America thought, somewhat relieved. A pirate captain wouldn't have taken offense to that statement. It's probably true, a wicked voice whispered in the depths of his mind, He's not bad-looking in that outfit. America was disgusted with himself. He tried to forget that disturbing thought when another popped into his head. Why doesn't England want us all to know that? It'd change our thoughts on him. Most of us think he's an old stickler, America thought, Unless— His thoughts were interrupted by France, who was saying out loud almost exactly what America had been thinking.

"Does Angleterre regret those glory days?" France leered, turning on England who was trying desperately to keep up the pirate facade, "Or do you just not want a certain someone to know about all that—"

"Shut up, frog!" England growled, face furiously red, fists clenched at his sides. Evidently France was right. England didn't allow himself to act like his normal self for long, however; he quickly drew himself up once again with a lion's arrogance, leaning slightly to one side, crossed his arms, and gave that cocky half-smirk that looked so damn hot— Wait what?! America definitely hadn't thought that, nope nope nope.

"Good luck, Angleterre!" France called as he strode away, his business with the two countries done, "Ohonhonhon!"

"I could still beat you any day, dude!" America tried to go back to their previous conversation before France had made it awkward.

"Are you sure?" England countered, a grin creeping onto his face.

"Of course! The hero always wins!"

"Against a pirate armed with both sword and magic?" America was starting to doubt his ability face him in England's present state.

"Yeah!" America said, keeping the slight fear out of his voice, "I don't believe in that stuff, Iggy."

"On All Hallows' Eve?" England countered, emerald eyes glinting wickedly. Just as he said it, the lights in the room flickered and many attendees gasped. A shiver ran down America's spine.

"O-of course." America was now genuinely scared. This pirate England was quite terrifying, especially armed with magic. He didn't even believe in magic, but America found himself stumbling backwards when England advanced towards him.

"Why are you stepping backwards?" England said cockily, knowing full well how different he looked and acted as a pirate, "As I recall from earlier, it was you who first made a move on me."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," America stammered. He couldn't believe he was thinking this, but England actually looked really sexy with that feral grin.

"Aye, don't you laddie?" England said, taking another step forward. The lights flickered again. America realized too late that his back was only a foot from a wall.

"N-no," America tried to deny it one last time. England had backed America into a hallway.

"If you say so." The lights blinked out completely. America took a step away from where he thought England was; his back hit the wall. He couldn't back away any more. Suddenly he felt a body pin him to the wall and England's hot breath on his face.

"W-what are you—" England cut him off by crushing their lips together, kissing America with a certain ferocity that he had not known England had. America's sky blue eyes widened, then slipped shut. His mind reeled. He hadn't even known that he liked England before that night. He couldn't focus on anything for long, for the pressure of their interlocked lips soon rendered his mind useless. He felt England's hands reach up to slide the Captain America hood from his head, then he felt fingers tangling in his hair. America snaked his arms around England, not really knowing what else to do. They broke apart panting.

"Why?" was all America could manage to choke out. England silenced him with a peck on the lips.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," England breathed. America sensed an opportunity to tease him.

"Oh? I thought you did whatever you wanted, Captain?" America said mockingly.

"What?! I didn't..." England couldn't stop himself from reverting back to his old self at this, "You're talking about what France told you. Damn frog..."

"So is it true then?" Just then the lights flicked on. Now America could see England's flushed cheeks and couldn't contain a small chuckle.

"Oh, Angleterre, I see you have reverted to your teenage habits again," France catcalled from the main room. England swore under his breath. The lights flickered out again just in time for America to see France fly across the room and crash into the refreshment table. England's eyes never left America's amused face.

"So you did do all those things?" America had to ask again. He couldn't keep himself from adding one more infuriating comment, "You're cute when you're mad." England rolled his eyes.

"C'mere, git." England pulled America back down and connected their lips again, this time both of them smiled into their kiss.

America couldn't remember a time when he was happier to be called a git.

A/N: Hey guys! I had so much fun writing this. While I was writing that main scene in which France is, I was laughing so hard I could barely type. I don't like France's canon personality much, so I've made a bunch of random headcanons about stuff but anyway. I think I love writing about Pirate!England too much. Way too much. It was fun to try and have him acting like a pirate but having those little modern-England outbursts. If you liked it then please review! Your reviews make my day!

~Rebecca

P.S. If you can think of a better title then please tell me I can't make up titles for the life of me.