Hi darlings! I'm baaack! So this is a new idea I recently had and just needed to act on. I have a lush storyline ready for this so I hope you all like it! Please review, I know I haven't been active recently but it really makes me feel like it's important to write quickly for you all xx (obviously don't own hetalia etc. etc.)

(Italics is in their native language)

A young man was bent over a workshop table, telescopic glasses on, with an oil stained leather apron covering his simple cream shirt and brown breeches. He didn't wear a waistcoat anymore, his father would be angry, but the man never left his own workshop to see so what was the point? There's no one in the shop to impress, except customers, besides, it was late and the shop was closed. It was much too late for any dignified waistcoat-wearing people to be awake, let alone shopping.

Then again, London wasn't full of such people. The factory workers and designers, engineers and aeronauts greatly outnumbered the pleasure-seeking upper class. If he wasn't so busy and had decided to take a walk, he wouldn't be at all surprised to find the streets scattered with airship crews looking for somewhere to spend the rest of their money, artists and engineers hunting for inspiration and materials, not to mention the men and women of the night lurking in every corner and alleyway with the occasional client brave enough or rich enough to risk a fine. Perhaps even the odd scientist could be caught hunting in cemeteries or derelict houses with the ambition of re-creating life - it was the most exciting technological breakthrough at present, but no case had been successful for longer than a few minutes. Every scientist with ambition was working on various projects, often teaming up with others in their area. Cities were very competitive and ever since London lost the race to make a balloon hotel, and lost to Paris out of everyone, their fiercest competition, London were desperate to be the first to master such a thing as resurrection.

The boy felt a droplet of sweat travel down his cheek as he picked up the microscopic cogs with his tired old tools, rejects from his father, and held his breath as everything, to his surprise and delight, fitted perfectly. He carefully set down the tool and pulled the eyepiece away from his face, accidentally scratching his cheek with the rough metal edge as he laid it on the table, but didn't even notice due to excitement. He fitted the key to the object and wound it slowly, watching the mechanics turn with not a glitch. After a few turns, he set the key down and watched his creation start to flap its wings and move its weight from foot to foot. It wasn't flying but he wouldn't have even dreamt about making something so complex, this was his first clockwork pet.

"Sir!" He grabbed the bird and ran out of the room, through the dark shop, knowing each twist and turn, having lived here for all of his 19 years. He ran up the stairs with a huge smile on his face, hugging the bird to his chest as it tried to bite his apron.

"Sir!?" He almost squeaked with excitement, knocking frantically on the door to his father's workshop. He didn't wait for a response before pushing the door open and walking up to the desk, passing the various creations both finished and unfinished, a man hunched over a pile of metal pieces, obviously a new object. At the sound of the door opening, he lifted his head and moved the goggles from his face to his forehead, pushing back his fringe and showing his large eyebrows and big green eyes.

"You've finished it, Alfred?" He asked, trying to hide his annoyance at being interrupted, that boy will never learn.

"Yes, oh look sir, it works! I-I made a bird!" Arthur held a hand out for it and Alfred eagerly gave him his precious creation. Arthur looked it over and then swapped the goggles for an eyepiece and inspected the intricate gears and soldering, looking for any imperfections. His job was to make such things, so there was no better eye for detail that himself.

"You didn't give it power." Arthur scolded, switching the light on his eyepiece and looking into the depths of the pet, silent as it was, waiting to be re-wound.

"Yeah, it's too hard for me. I-"

"Be quiet." Arthur snapped. "Nothing is too hard forever, if you at least tried to give this creature flight I could have fixed any mistakes. A flightless owl. It's useless." He removed the glasses and stood up, joints creaking with the new position, and handed the bird back to a quiet Alfred who stroked its head gently, he didn't have the heart to take it apart, not after all the time that he'd spent working on it.

"It's an eagle." He eased open a wing to show Arthur the span.

"That's fine. Get it out of here, I have work to do boy." Arthur turned away, dismissing Alfred who narrowed his eyes

"Yes sir." He said simply.

Alfred closed the door gently before stomping downstairs and back to his desk, winding the bird up and wishing that he'd not been lazy with it. Maybe it would be flying around the room and singing by now. Many of Arthur's pets could make noises, something he hadn't even taught Alfred yet, for he knew that he wasn't good enough. Alfred punched the wall and gritted his teeth. He didn't want to stay cooped up in this shop forever with his old man. He couldn't remember the last time he went exploring, so focussed on that eagle he'd been for the past month.

He looked at his new pet and picked up the key, winding it again till it clicked into automatic, recharging itself. It struggled in his arms briefly, ripping at the apron with a sharp wing, before recognising its creator and then calmed down immediately, sitting happily in his arms.

"Hi birdy." Alfred said proudly. "Ready to see the world outside this lame old building?" He gently set the pet on his desk and rummaged in a box of leather scraps for a good long piece, the bird walking shakily on its new legs around the desk as it waited for him, daintily stepping over various tools and mechanics. Alfred messily sewed some leather together into an armband with buckles and some more leather attached to that, and wrapped it around his forearm tightly to protect his arm from metal claws, and encouraged the bird to walk onto the makeshift perch, and put his spare hand on its side in case it fell, knowing how delicate it was for not being able to fly. He stood up and it shuffled slightly on his arm, soon getting comfortable and opened its beak but of course no sound came out. It tried again and Alfred felt determined to get Arthur to teach him how to make it fly and sing, as soon as possible. Glad of his strength since the bird was by no means light, he grabbed the nearest hat, out of habit, and left the workshop, wondering if his previous assumptions of those out and about at night had been correct.

Just around the corner from the clockwork shop that led into the centre of town was the sound of drunken fighting, so Alfred quickly headed the other direction, to the docks. He always loved to see the great airships, especially in the day when crews were singing as they worked, the sound of inflating gas bags and the smell of fuel, the handsome men in uniforms marching up and down gangplanks of military ships. Alfred was not ashamed to have a weakness for a man in uniform. He'd met a military airman once, but was too scared to sleep with him. He'd been too young then, and still was young, but he knew that he wouldn't stand one up again, should the chance arise.

The bird was pecking at the strap of his apron lightly, wanting attention, and Alfred smiled fondly, running a finger lightly down its back, the polished feathers and whirring clockwork soothing him.

As he walked into the docks and down the ramp, he felt an overwhelming sense of power, imagining himself as the master of all these ships, of their crews. It was his favourite daydream, a hopeless one, for he was Arthur's only son and knew he must take over the business one day. He didn't want to think about that. Not of running a business that he has so much to learn in, or of his old man getting too old to work. He loved Arthur, but wished they'd get to hang out sometimes, just go to town for the day and spend some of that money Arthur had been saving since before he could remember. It probably made a pretty penny by now.

Lost in thought, he failed to realise that he was approaching a recently docked airship.

"Five hours, comrades! Spend it how you will but we leave at dawn, with or without you!" Alfred felt his heart speeding up at the sound of that language, whatever it is. A foreign crew! He backed up to the wall so as not to get in their way, and winced as his pet stepped off his leather perch and onto his bare arm, claws digging into his flesh. It sensed his excitement, and echoed it, head turning here there and everywhere to watch the crew.

Men in beige uniforms with red trim hurried down the gangplank, excitedly chattering in a variety of languages, not more than an occasional glance given to Alfred as they hurried to spend their money on the various pleasure houses, gambling dens, taverns, opium dens and whatever else they can find.

Alfred squinted in the darkness as he saw some barrels being rolled away to what looked like another airship. They must be traders then. He edged closer and saw one of the barrels standing up with crew helping themselves to whatever liquid is inside, filling up their tankards.

A figure who Alfred assumed was the captain loomed behind the barrel, keeping an eye on the rations most likely. Why some crew were staying by the ship to drink and not the nearby tavern was past Alfred, it was cold, dark and uncomfortable.

He stepped a little closer and his bird finally moved back onto its perch, the creaking of metal on metal alerting the crew to his presence.

"What are you doing here so late, boy?" One of them asked, but the captain noticed the confusion and fear in the boy's face and left his position, walking over to him.

"You are a local?" He asked with a smile. Alfred knew he was looking ridiculous, frozen to the spot as he was. The man was very tall, even more than his own 6ft 1, of which he was very proud. He wore a navy blue knee length coat with gold trim, his neck hidden behind a tightly wound scarf that draped down his back and he had white gloves. It was too dark to see the rest of his clothes and what he did see was only in an instant, for Alfred found himself captivated by a pair of wide purple eyes, framed by silver lashes and unlike the small hat that was common for captains to wear, a leather flight helmet lay upon his head of silver hair.

"What do you speak?" He asked Alfred, in that mysterious language, the hint of annoyance evident although his tone was soft.

"I don't understand you, sir." Alfred managed to say, desperately trying to trap his bird against himself without it pecking him to death, the thought of it biting the foreign captain making him feel sick with worry.

"Local, da. I thought so." He turned to his crew and gave them orders to guard the vessel and not to let anyone else get so close as this, not that Alfred would understand, and put a hand between Alfred's shoulder blades, leading him back up the ramp to the street. Away from his airship.

"It is late to be in the docks. Are you there for a reason?" Alfred could listen to that voice all day, the pitch dancing around, tongue curling sounds and changing them to something beautiful.

"I like looking at the airships." He said simply, a bit awestruck, to be honest.

The captain didn't like this. No one should be watching their activities. Deciding that staying with him would be the best way of assuring secrecy of the trade, he decided that is what he would do. He wondered if this boy could give him advice on where to go, since he has trusty members of the crew guarding the precious cargos, both being delivered and those still hidden on board. "I do not get to see land much, so would you show me around?" The captain asked sweetly, all the while, encouraging him away from the docks.

"A tour? Well sure. I mean, yes sir. I'd be honoured." Alfred tried to remember his manners around someone with such prestige as a captain.

To his horror, the bird was finding the stranger potentially a better perch than Alfred, and tried to walk from Alfred's aching arm and over to the captain. "No, behave!" Alfred said desperately, stopping walking, and grabbed the bird in his hands before it could reach the new person. It pecked Alfred's fingers and made him bleed, but the airship captain just laughed softly and offered his arm.

"It is no problem, I come across many things more dangerous than a clockwork creature. Do not be afraid." Alfred shook his head, embarrassed at how badly behaved this bird was, it needed a lot of work.

"He likes to peck and scratch. I wouldn't want your uniform ruined, sir." He held the bird tighter, and the captain looked downcast.

"If you don't want to, I understand." He lowered his arm and started to look around at his surroundings, for this is the first time he's been in London and was as curious as his crew to how different things were here than in Moscow. He looked back at the boy who was now fighting to keep control of his bird, it was pecking him again, and under the faint streetlamps he could see various cuts and rips that the bird must have been responsible for.

"Don't keep something that hurts you." He said bluntly, standing in front of Alfred and grabbed the bird, a hand wrapped around its body, the other keeping its beak closed. "I would take it to a shop to be turned less aggressive if you are fond of it."

Alfred sighed in defeat. "Well I made him, it's my fault he's such a fighter. If I-"

"You?" The captain asked in surprise, holding the bird up to his face and trying to see the detail. "I wish I could make a companion…it requires more skill than I possess." Alfred felt a little smile of pride forming at the compliment.

"Nah, I'm not so talented as you. Flying an airship, keeping a crew under command and fighting the weather, that's skilful. Way cooler than making some rogue bird."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Would you like him back? He does not like me." The bird was wriggling frantically in his grip, and as soon as Alfred lifted his arm, it obediently hopped back and buried its face against him for comfort.

"Hey little guy, don't be scared." Alfred sounded surprised. "You're the first person it's met…apart from my old man, but he doesn't count."

The silence that met that comment made Alfred assume the man didn't care about such things, and Alfred briefly let his mind drift back home, wondering if his dad had realised he wasn't home and started looking for him, or drinking…

With a last look down to his airship, the captain started walking down the street, and to his pleasure, Alfred stayed by his side, looking down at the pavement.

"What are you thinking, little one?"

"I'm not little, I'm nineteen!" Alfred replied indignantly, manners forgotten, and would have folded his arms had there not been a bird on one. "And I was thinking about…stuff." He glanced up at him again. "Where are you from, anyway? You're traders, right?"

The captain smiled down at him but it wasn't a natural smile. The darkness hid such a detail from Alfred, however. "We just arrived from Vienna but our motherland is Moscow."

"Motherland? So my motherland is London, huh? Doesn't feel like it."

The captain chuckled.

"You do not like it here? You seem settled." Alfred shrugged and scratched his head.

"It's alright. One of the safest cities apparently, but you'd know more about that than me. Never left this dump." They stepped over a pile of rags that may or may not have been a person, and Alfred felt himself growing more and more attracted to this man.

"If you do not feel like this is your motherland, you should find the place that is."

That surprised Alfred, and he looked over at him.

"How? I can't fly. I've never flown."

"Never. Can't. Different words." Alfred huffed at that, everyone seemed to be telling him such things recently.

"I'm Alfred by the way. Alfred Kirkland."

"Ivan." Was the simple response, distracted as he was by the new surroundings, readjusting to walking on firm ground once again, and the smells of earth.

They walked past the shop and Alfred couldn't help but look to see if Arthur's workshop light was on, but no. The man was probably drinking in a tavern somewhere.

"Could you-just-would you mind just wai-where are you headed, sir?" Alfred blurted out, getting tired of carrying the bird around and feeling rather silly still in his apron.

"You want to leave?" Ivan asked, not attempting to hide the disappointment in his voice. He liked this attractive boy with the bird.

"Well, this is my place and my arm is getting tired." He held up the bird as means of explanation, but it had a claw entangled in his apron and as he lifted it, a terrible grating sound happened, and the claw separated from the foot.

"Shit! Ivan sir, I'm sorry but I have to go! Can I…would you...maybe like to come inside? It wouldn't be as grand as a cabin in an airship and-"

"I'd love to." Ivan replied, clapping his hands together in excitement and to stop Alfred from rambling anymore.

"Alright then, it's just here. I need to set birdy's foot right and then I am free for th-at your service."

They entered the shop, Ivan looking around in curiosity at the clockwork and seriously considered becoming a client for this family. Those in Berlin were very fond of clockwork and had an opening in the market that could well be filled with some of these. The technology and skill were impressive. He amused himself as he walked past some mechanical flowers that swayed as he passed them. A while later he followed Alfred to the only lit room, already bent over the bird that was now still, he must have paused it, and leant in the doorway as he watched curiously. His skills were in negotiation, fighting and navigation, something as complicated as this would drive him to insanity, he was sure of it. Alfred looked up and smiled shyly before returning to his task of returning the claw to the foot. He had on a rather funny looking headpiece that covered an eye with glass. Alfred's hand flew out and clicked a button on the device, changing something. Ivan wanted to know what.

"Nearly-fi-nished." Alfred said in concentration as he did the finishing touches. He sat up in his chair the second it was healed, and his head hit against what he thought was a wall. Turning around, he saw that it was just Ivan's chest. The man was standing behind him, watching.

He giggled. "I scared you? That was funny." Alfred felt nervous at the eerie giggle but just forced a smile and set the bird down, leaving it off for now.

"Alfred." Ivan said, more commanding this time, turning the seat with one hand so they were facing each other. 'Damn that man is strong.' Thought Alfred. "I'm a captain of an airship, I have many powers and influences in the sky." He knelt down so they were level and Alfred felt more and more excited, unable to help himself. Ivan was looking right into his eyes. "Your business would profit if you become my supplier." Alfred almost pouted.

"Yeah well, it's not my decision. You'll have to find pops and he isn't here right now."

Ivan tilted his head and put on a cute expression, almost a smile and almost a pout. "I have three hours. Will he be home?" Alfred shook his head and shrugged; trying to act casual despite feeling his body temperature increase and blood start to sink south. Ivan was a God of a man.

Ivan let out a little sigh and stood up, crotch almost at Alfred's face level and he had to restrain himself from doing anything uncouth, and turned back to the desk. A hand patted his shoulder, a strong hand that had controlled airships and had surely touched many bodies of lovers.

"I will find somewhere for fun. I will make sure to return to London, I would like to see you again Alfred. In light and with an agreement, or two." He smirked, Alfred could hear it in his voice, and wondered why.

Just as Ivan made it to the door, Alfred's legs sprang to life and he grabbed the captain's sleeve.

"You can have fun here. With me." He'd said it. Oh God he couldn't believe he'd said it. Ivan smiled happily and turned to him.

"I will have both." He pulled the apron over Alfred's head and laid it on the desk, quickly found a leather coat, which he assumed was Alfred's, and handed it to him before opening the front door and stepping onto the street.

"Where is a place to have fun, comrade?"