A/N: I keep getting stuck on USUK ideas, even though I evolved in this series thinking I wanted to, and aiming to, write Rochu fics. I don't know how that happened, actually. But, somehow I keep getting these ideas involving America when he's a kid. I just think he was really cute during that time, and, while it's not always so much USUK stuff in the romance stuff, it's still really cute and you know you can't deny it. I guess that's what I'm really aiming for, with this. To show America growing up with England around, and maybe even without him there. Yeah, it's all probably been done. But I still feel the need to put my own spin on things. So, see what you think, and please let me know! Also, any suggestions you might have, I would love to hear!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or any of the characters used in this fic.

Chapter 1: Alfred the Pirate

"Alfred!" England called out from where he was standing out in the yard of the house America and him currently lived in. England had so many houses around the world, but there was something about being alone out here with America in this vast land that he loved most. Maybe it was the company…

However, the said company had escaped him.

All Arthur had said he was going to do was go make them both some lunch and Alfred had bolted out of the room as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him. Really, Arthur just didn't understand.

"Alfred, really, come now!" He was sure that America would have run outside, and probably to the forests that he always liked to hide in. The thought of the young nation being in the forest always worried him. While America was strong, he was still small and young, and Arthur dared not imagine the small boy getting lost.

It had been ten minutes since he started calling from him, and taking another few steps out and looking around, he was beginning to get worried about him. His eyes looked out at the scenery for a brief moment.

The sight of rolling hills on this land, covered in forests just waiting to be explored would, on any other day, be fascinating to him. But now, he could hardly stand to look that same landscape, because he knew that America could quite possibly be anywhere out there.

And if he was, the prospect of finding him was not a very high chance.

"America!" He called once more.

But when the wind rustling the trees was the only thing that answered him, he felt the way his hope began to fall and his worry level shot through the roof. 'Where is he?' He asked himself, then suddenly taking off at a run to the forest.

For once, he didn't care as branches and bushes cut up his clothes as he ran; he was simply too desperate to care at this moment. He kept quiet for a moment as he stopped running, trying to listen for anything in the forest that would tell him where America had gone.

But there was nothing. Only the quiet sound of trees rustling, as if trying to give him some sort of hint in a language he couldn't understand.

Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his vibrant gold hair and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. 'Why am I so worried?' He tried to ration, 'That boy has always come home no matter how long he was gone… H-how could this be any different?'

As he turned back to head to the house again, he still couldn't help but worry, as any guardian would over their young ward. There were so many things that could happen. And he knew that if anything happened to America, he couldn't forgive himself.

When he finally reached the house again, everything was quiet and Arthur found the house to be much bigger than he remembered it being whenever America was around.

He sulked back into the kitchen, only to stop when his green eyes fell upon the table, which was set for the lunch he'd made for both of them. Arthur was always thankful that he could, most of the time, convince America that his food was good and thus get the boy to eat it. But now, even though it was just a simple light soup he'd made, it even looked gross to him, now.

Suddenly, though, he heard the sound of something bang on the wooden flooring, upstairs, and with that, Arthur felt his heart jump in his chest.

Without needing a second thought, he ran from the kitchen and up the stairs to the room he had heard the sound coming from.

Throwing open his office door, from where he tried to imagine where the sound had originated, he instantly froze at the sight in front of him.

The room, while not being that big, was covered with clothes that had been pulled out of a wood trunk that had sat under the window on the opposite wall ever since this house had been built. There had never been a lock on it to begin with, but England had never expected it to be opened again in the first place. He never wanted it opened again.

In the middle of these clothes was Alfred, sitting on the floor trying to pull on some navy blue, ripped up jacket that was way too big for him. On his head was a three-point hat made of fine material and even had the same feather sticking out of it.

All of the items, however, were not what England was seeing at this moment. They were all non-existent to him. All he saw was that little nation turn to him and instantly smile his bright, childish smile that instantly brightened his sky blue eyes by at least three shades.

"Engwand!" Alfred exclaimed, waving his arms that were still in the jacket, "Look what I found! All these clothes!"

But still England could not comprehend what he was seeing, or what America had gotten himself in to this time. Any anger he might have held if this was any other situation was the furthest thing from his mind. All he could feel at this moment was relief flood his body.

He rushed forward and scooped the small nation up into his arms, hugging him tight despite how much Alfred pushed back against him, "Engwand! Pu' me down!" He complained, but England simply hugged him tighter. The idea of losing America had scared him too much to not act in such a way.

Arthur felt the way Alfred suddenly stopped in his hold, "Hey… you're crying?" He asked, his eyes tearing up in a sympathetic fright.

England shook his head, knowing he might be overreacting a bit letting himself get like this, but who could really blame him? He had been so worried…

Finally, though, he wiped away the tears and put America back down on the ground where he'd been, he himself going over and pulling out the chair from his desk and sitting down –taking the chance to wipe at his eyes before Alfred questioned anymore. "So, what did you find here, hm, Alfred?" He asked him.

America watched him with those wondering, confused, and beautiful blue eye for a moment longer before his attention moved back to his find. "Ah! Look, Engwand!" He readjusted the hat that was too big for him that was on his head. "They was in here. Don't I look brave?"

England smiled, leaning on his hand and crossing one leg over the other and let the many memories come back to him once more. "Those were my clothes when I was a pirate, Alfred." He explained.

Bright eyes moved back to him. "You wasa piwate, Engwand?" He asked joyfully.

England nodded, "Yeah. But my country and I grew out of those days, and thus I don't have any need for them anymore." He shrugged, "I just don't have the heart to get rid of them, I guess, so I left them here."

America smiled and got up and ran over to where he was, nearly tripping on the ends of the coat that trailed behind him. He pulled at England's legs, desperate to get up in his lap. When England finally lifted him and sat him down, he said, "Tell me abou' when you was a piwate, Engwand!"

Arthur laughed, "Well… I used to be the captain of a huge ship, like the ones we see at the docks. And with that ship my crew and I would travel the seas for treasure." The treasure part was true… but he would be lying if he said he hadn't watered it down a lot.

America looked up at him and tried wriggling onto his lap, pulling a bit on his shirt, begging England to finish the story.

England simply flicked the hat America was wearing once, "Not right now, Alfred. Maybe I'll start telling you stories of my pirate days as your bedtime stories." He told him instead, then set him back on the floor.

America looked up at him as if ready to continue protesting, but then spotted something that caught his interest. Picking up the thin string with the half-circle black cup at the end he gave England a confused look. "What's this?" He asked.

England laughed and took it from him, re-adjusting the size of it a bit before slipping it over America's head and covering his right eye with it. "It's an eye patch. All real captains wore them." He boasted, sitting back and observing his little pirate nation.

America, in his child-like ignorance, loved this, and thus went back to playing around the room in his new pirate outfit. England smiled, "Alfred, if you promise to be careful with those… you can keep them to play in, okay?"

The smaller nation's smile got bigger if at all possible and he nodded furiously, until his hat fell off his head. "Yeah, I pwomise, Engwand!" He agreed, then going back to playing his pirate games and imagining himself fighting off other pirates and finding buried treasure.

It was almost nostalgic to watch America play in his old pirate clothes. While England always tried not to think of those days, there was something about watching the innocence of a child pretend that made him feel better about it all.

'What's the worst that could happen?' England thought to himself. 'I don't use them anymore, and this way they'll get some good use out them with America. There's no harm in letting a child play dress up once in a while.'


A/N: So… if you haven't figured out, each chapter of this is going to be little instances like this. I personally think they're very cute! And if you think so too, I'd love it if you would review and tell me that. Also, if you have any ideas of things you imagine Alfred doing as a child, or the two of them doing together, then please review as well and let me know! All suggestions will be highly considered! Next chapter soon! Let me know what you think!

Please review!
-Forbiddensoul562