Hi. I know I have unfinished fics. But, let me just say one word. ...THREESOME :DDDD. I wanted to so badly write a threesome fic between UK, US, and Canada with Canada as the center in this delicious sammich. But it kept coming out angsty. And I was like, I don't want angst right now (but expect it soontimes mayhaps). And, because my mind dances on tangents, pirates then came to mind. And I always did want to write a pirate fic so here is my attempt. PART 1 OF MY ATTEMPT. -dies in happiness-

Warnings: THREESOME, slash, historical inaccuracy, fail, OOC-ness, THREESOME, fail smut, language,

Pairing: US/CANADA/UK

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, Canada would not be able to sit ever. XD

"I used to be a farmer, and I made a living fine. I had a little stretch of land along the CP line."

Alfred paused in the doorway, his blue eyes taking in the site of his brother sulking on the couch, arms crossed, listening to the strangely familiar song blaring from the high-tech (and incredibly new and pricey) sound system Alfred had bought for Arthur (so that he could enjoy it whenever he was trapped at the Brit's house).

Matthew, dressed in a white, loose-fitting shirt with billowing sleeves and laces down his neck (which were only done partway and loosely, Alfred noted, licking his lips when he saw that pale sliver of skin) and warm brown breeches, was curled up on the couch, fiddling with an enormous tricorn hat with a fluffy scarlet feather.

"Everything cool, Mattie?"

"Yes." The northern nation muttered and Alfred had to strain his ears to hear his brother's whispery voice. "Everything is just fine and fucking dandy."

And then he went back to picking at the felt hat, lips pressed together into a pout.

"I'm gonna be a pirate on the river Saskatchewan!"

Alfred blinked. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"'Cause you look like you did that one time I accidently mailed your Boss a copy of your naughty Mountie calendar."

If anything, Matthew's face darkened and the temperature of the room plummeted.

Alfred laughed awkwardly when violet-blue eyes locked on him, a layer of ice coating the normally soft gaze. But, luckily Arthur storming into the room saved him.

"Are you still sulking Matthew?" He tutted, hands on his hips and bearing an uncanny resemblance to a scolding grandmother. "Honestly, poppet, I'm not saying you don't have what it takes to be the scourge of the seas…just that…"

"You're too nice and pretty to be scourge-worthy." Alfred interrupted, a million-watt grin on his face.

"You don't even know what we're talking about, git." Arthur snapped.

"No, no I don't. But when has that ever stopped me?"

The Englishman stopped to consider that, briefly, and then sighed, ignoring the superpower in favor of Matthew. "Listen, love, the pirate life isn't for everyone. You gave it a good shot. You did have pirates, my boy. Easton had nothing but kind words for you. And, perhaps it didn't go so well with Baker—"

"Hey, wasn't that the fail pirate who stole my ship?" Alfred cut in. "Dude, Phil was so pissed. He was practically chanting for that guy's death."

Arthur facepalmed.

Matthew looked downright murderous and then it all clicked in Alfred's pretty blond head.

"…Oh…oh." The American looked somewhat sheepish. "He was one of yours, wasn't—"

"You both can just sleep on the couch and have pirate sex together!" Matthew snarled, throwing down the flamboyant hat and stomping off, his errant curl bouncing erratically in front of his face.

"You ruin everything." The Brit said lowly, green eyes furious. "First you ruin this relationship by being a part of it—"

"Okay, ouch." Alfred winced. "First of all, last I checked, Artie, you wanted all of this." He gestured at himself, punctuating 'this' with a pointed pelvic thrust in the older nation's direction. "Secondly, if I remember correctly, your exact words during our last mattress mambo 'harder you sexy hunk of prime A American beef'."

"Actually, I believe my exact words were 'move, git'."

"Pft, you say raising taxes, I say cruel and unusual punishment."

"After I saved your ungrateful hide from that wine bastard—"

"Fine! See if I let you use my chest as a pillow tonight!"

"I don't want to use your chest as a bloody pillow, wanker." Arthur spat out. "And it's your fault we're on the couch! I was about to calm Matthew down—"

"You're probably the reason he was mad to begin with!"

Arthur shut his mouth quickly. Then, with a sigh, he moved and picked up the abandoned hat. "We were going through some old boxes." He began, fluffing the feather with gentle fingers. "Matthew found a box from my old privateer days." A nostalgic mist settled in his eyes. "He asked if he could wear some and I let him."

(He didn't mention the fact that the moment Matthew took off his shirt, Arthur was already there, pressing up against the younger nation and pinching his nipples and mouthing at his neck.)

"We started talking about those days. And he mentioned his pirates and…" The green-eyed nation trailed off, a vaguely guilty twist to his lips.

"…He had pirates?" Alfred asked, a golden eyebrow quirked. "Like more than one?"

"Well, they plundered in him." Arthur admitted quietly. "But they were as much his as mine." He sighed tiredly. "However, it's been so long…"

The hurt that had flickered across Matthew's face pricked at Arthur and the Englishman felt a renewed sense of guilt.

"Hey, Artie, you wouldn't happen to have an extra ship lying around?"

"Yes, of course." Arthur said dryly. "I happen to keep one in the boot of my car in case I have to sail to work."

"Ha-fucking-ha." Alfred rolled his eyes. "No, seriously, can you make some magic happen? I have an idea—"

"If it involves robots or whales—"

"—It doesn't anymore." The blond chuckled. "And it'll definitely get us off Mattie's Shit List."

"And how exactly?"

"Well, Mattie likes pirates. You were a pirate—"

"Privateer."

"And I wasn't too bad myself. Lets just show Matthew that he doesn't need to feel bad."

"Are you seeing this?" Willem asked, a little nervously, poised to place his pipe back in his mouth. "'Cause I tried some crazy shit last night and it could still be in my system."

Matthew, looking up from his notes on the meeting, just stared at where the Dutch nation was pointing. "Crisse." He muttered. "They're just rubbing it in now."

Outside the window, docked in the harbor of Copenhagen, was an authentic Elizabethan schooner, bobbing gently in the water, with a Jolly Roger fluttering happily in the breeze.

All the nations, inside the meeting room, were now staring out the window.

"Not again!" Spain suddenly wailed, diving under the table and slipping into frantic Spanish and Latin prayer as Romano just sighed and looked incredibly embarrassed.

Across the table, Portugal was grinning wildly.

Francis, on the other side of Willem, chuckled. "Someone is having a mid-life crisis." He noted smugly.

And with that, the doors were kicked open.

Just before...

"Artie, stop eyefucking your reflection." Alfred sniped, exasperated. "We have to go get our booty." He snickered. "Heh, booty."

Arthur gave him an unimpressed look. "Unless you want to be locked in the bilge and 'accidently' forgotten, I suggest you show some respect—"

"Avast me hearties! Shiver me timbers! Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!" Alfred exclaimed, adjusting his large hat with a brilliant blue plume off to his side. He tightened the dark sash around his waist and adjusted his cutlass (Arthur had very reluctantly let him carry one) before skipping out of the captain's quarters.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur couldn't help but let the other's excitement affect him. "We be gentlemen o'fortune today." He murmured, his smirk sharp like the edge of sword. He tipped back his tricorn, admiring himself once more in the mirror.

His scarlet waistcoat, flowing out after his hips, looked brand new (despite just having been pulled out of a trunk in his attic) and its golden buttons glimmered. With a quick adjustment of his snow-white cravat, the man turned on his heel (the wood creaking under his polished boots), his hand resting lightly on his pistol.

"Well, hello, hello." Arthur greeted darkly, his green eyes sharp under the brim of his hat.

The nations just stared at him, not quite sure if this was one big elaborate joke or if England was really back to his delinquent self.

The Englishman sauntered forward, his smirk sharpening when he heard an incredibly loud and anguished "dios mio" from under the table.

"Now, ye landlubbers have nothing to fear from us. Today." He added. "We're here for one thing and one thing only." His eyes came to rest on a certain blond nation. "The most precious treasure in all the seven seas." He murmured, eliciting a pale blush from his former charge. "Come along peacefully, then, wench and no harm will come to ye."

"Say it, say it, say it." He heard Alfred whisper excitedly from behind him.

Obligingly, the sandy-haired man bit back a sigh and added, "Savvy?"

"Someone is three sheets to the wind." A distinctly Scottish voice whispered loudly and Arthur's prominent brows twitched.

"Shut your gob, you son of a biscuit eater." He snapped, hand tightening around his pistol and trying really hard not to just shoot his bastard of an older brother lest he break character. "Or you'll be feeding the fish tonight."

Scotland looked like he wanted to argue some more, but a casual elbow from Wales silenced him.

"Will you come quietly, then, lad?" Arthur shifted his attention to Matthew who was watching him warily.

(The Canadian was still rather pissed.)

"And if I don't?" The younger nation asked airily, already turning around and treating his former guardian with the same amount of attention he'd give Alfred in full-blown tantrum mode.

"Then it seems you leave me no choice." Arthur answered. "Come give our new pet here a hand, mate." He commanded, not even glancing back at Alfred.

"Aye aye Cap'n!" Alfred said cheerfully, bouncing forward and, with a wide-grin, he effortlessly lifted Matthew up and slung him over his shoulder. The lack of difference in their heights made the gesture amusing and several nations had to cover their mouths to keep from laughing out loud (despite the snickers that escaped every so often).

And with that, the superpower—carrying a red-faced Matthew, who was already kicking the older nation—pranced out of the room, with Arthur following at a much more leisurely pace.

When the door shut behind them, silence reigned for a full minute.

"Did they really have to get us all involved in their foreplay?" Romano said loudly. "And get out from under there, moron." He rolled his eyes. "And put down the fucking flag Feliciano."

Yes, so there is a part 2 coming eventually (with THREESOME SMUT). I gave up for now because I'm sleepy. :I So the next part should be up by this weekend...if people want it.

By the way, I have been working up towards writing a threesome (because Canada needs all the love he can get). What inspired me? Winston-fucking-Churchill. No joke. Seriously, I was reading about how he viewed Canada as an important piece in Anglo-American relations. Of course, my mind read that as "threesome". See, I'll handle UK/US if Canada is there. Otherwise, I see no reason for my nation to get it on with Eyebrows McHugeEyebrowPants. -glares at England- I saw what you did there in history... I like to think both Al and Arthur wanted Canada and decided to share because Canada was like "I can get any piece of tail I want and when I want from whoever I want, bitches" and they both agreed "Yeah, no" and decided to have a lovely three-way relationship so Canada wouldn't go have sex with Prussia or something.

Cuz he totally would and could. Canadian history, baby -shot repeatedly-

I had a jar of nutella today and have a case of mountain dew. Its finals week. I'm not in the best mindframe.

But, regardless, how was this part?