This is a fan fiction that was requested by a Guest. I hope you enjoy it! And sorry for being so late in posting it. I could simply not create a version of this that I was even remotely pleased with.

So, here we are, with an UKUS Circus AU. For all of you UKUS lovers, please enjoy. I slaved over this for a couple of days, writing and erasing and rewriting and erasing again. This thing nearly killed me, but I'm relatively pleased with the result.

Enjoy!

In dedication to the Guest who requested this. I'm glad that you did, despite my complaining. xD

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hetalia franchise.

The World's Circus

"Something about the circus stirs their souls, and they ache for it when it is absent."

―Erin Morgenstern

The flames swirled around the American, brushing the sand floor, curling around his legs and his arms, leaping from one hand to the other. They hung in a bright luminescence in Alfred's blue eyes, their brilliant, flickering light brushing at muscle and sweat, twisting with their manipulator as he spun in wonderful twirls and jumps.

The tent had been purposefully pulled shut so that as little light as possible could reach in and impede the startling spectacle dancing before the audience. Arthur's green eyes were watching, just as captivated as he was yesterday. A cutlass hung in a loose grip by his side, his feet spread in a stance that spoke of a sword fighter. His mouth was dry, watching the simultaneous danger and delight that emanated from the performance before him.

Alfred was beautiful.

When the act finally drew to a close, the audience took a minute to come out of their hypnotized states. Their eyes blinked blearily a moment, before they all eagerly applauded the fire dancer from the center of the ring. Antonio, the ringmaster, trotted out after, grinning cheerfully at the ecstatic crowd. That had been their last performance of the night, and he quickly began to call out the performers, so that they might receive their well-earned applause.

The year was 1935, and they were in the middle of America's 'Great Depression.' Their ticket prices were dirt cheap, allowing some families who were looking for a little distraction to find it quickly and easily, with low-cost.

They all lined up, Antonio far on Arthur's right to Francis way down to Arthur's left. The Englishman was in the middle of the line, his left hand locked in Alfred's grasp and his right holding the callused fingers of Gilbert. The sides of the tents had been pushed back open so that the people might acquire a proper eyeful of the talented young men and women. Applause showered down upon their grinning faces. Chairs had been abandoned in favor of cheering the group, though the petty squabbling of children could be heard as a murmured undertone, quibbling over candied peanuts and rock candy sticks.

As the audience boisterously exited the tent, the sweaty and exhausted performers immediately commenced packing up. They had a couple of carriages that they'd managed to purchase, when they had enough money, to carry along the animal cages and other larger supplies that wouldn't be able to fit in their laps. Some cars were picked up as well, seeing as their prices had hit rock bottom after the stock market crash. Those were for performer and luggage transportation

Yao turned his attention to the big cats sitting in cages off to the right of the back tent. It was his job to placate and get them ready for the big journey. He had only two, a leopard and a lion. Yao didn't like bears, but regardless, Arthur always made it his mission to stay far and away from those enclosures, a habit that he noticed Alfred mimicking.

Gilbert, Arthur's Prussian dueling partner, skipped off to give a Hungarian named Eliza some unneeded help with her Hungarian horse Nikol, leaving Arthur to pack up the different sword types Gilbert and himself owned, and their separate costumes.

Alfred appeared out of nowhere next to the Englishman, his eyes still alight with the thrill of his performance. "So what did ya think?" he asked proudly, running a hand through his hair. It was obvious that he was trying to calculate whether or not he'd impressed Arthur, and Arthur didn't bother hiding his amused smirk.

"Oh, it was rather dreary," he said in an offhand manner, turning his attention to cleaning off the swords and sliding them into their respective scabbards. He could practically feel the indignation radiating from the American behind him, but didn't turn around until Alfred spoke up.

"Gee, thanks," it was a short phrase, mumbled and surprisingly insecure.

Arthur's head cocked sideways as he looked at the hunched-forward fire dancer. Honestly, Alfred was too adorable sometimes. Sighing, Arthur abandoned his task for a moment, in favor of placating the American's ego.

"Come then, Alfred, I was only joking. Your performance was brilliant, I dare say you had the entire audience hypnotized by the time you were finished," he allowed a small, genuine smile to appear as Alfred perked up at the praise, a huge smile gracing his previously desolate expression.

"Thanks dude! I think I'm pretty awesome too," this inspired a rolling of eyes from Arthur before Alfred leaned forward to whisper something in the Englishman's ear. "You looked pretty awesome out there too, that pirate costume fits you well."

The way those words sounded, rolling out of Alfred's mouth, had a shiver reverberating through Arthur's body. The feeling of Alfred's hot breath rolling over his ear and neck had Arthur feeling a drastic need to regain control of the situation. So, he decided to play coy too.

"Oh, Alfred, that is far from the only thing I'm good at," he purred, brushing his lips ever so lightly along the edge of Al's ear before stepping away. "We'll be leaving soon, it's high time you get to packing," and with that brief encounter over, he turned back to his own task.

Everything was packed up and ready to go in under four hours, thanks to the cooperation and help of every member of their circus. With this unexpectedly quick time, Antonio gave the performers leave to roam the tiny Washington city that they had stopped through on their way to bigger places. So, with their money in tow, the many men and women that made up The World's Circus strode off in search of some entertainment not provided by them for a change.

As was rapidly devolving into habit, they queued off in pairs; Ludwig and Feliciano, Lovino and Antonio, Gilbert and Elizaveta, Francis and Matthew, Arthur and Alfred, and Yao and one of his tiger cubs.

Alfred and Arthur wound their way through the crowds. Alfred had insisted on holding hands so that they wouldn't lose each other, and Arthur found no reason to shoot the idea down, so their fingers were woven together as the over-enthusiastic American dragged him through the clumps of people. The people in this small town didn't appear to have been so deeply affected by the stock market crash. Many of them wore some nice clothes, replete with bright colors of red and green and blue. Grins and smiles and chatter were everywhere, children weaving their way through adult's legs. Every time their circus set up shop somewhere other little markets would appear next to it, hawking their wares.

There were glass-blowing stands, and candy stands, and food stands, and foreign stands. There were stands for newspapers, and stands for fabrics and needles and pots and pans. Jewelry was caught in glimmering strands along a causeway created by these little throw-up shops.

As Arthur and Alfred walked, they would catch glimpses of their fellow performers. Gilbert and Eliza were spending a good deal of time letting little children trot around on Nikol. Ludwig and Feliciano were loitering in front of a little figurine stand, where Feliciano was cooing over what appeared to be a cat statuette. Further along the line from them was Antonio and a very disgruntled Lovino, arguing in a mixture of Spanish and Italian next to a jewelry booth. Francis and Matthew had yet to be spotted, though Arthur could tell Alfred was inadvertently searching for them. The American was very protective of his Canadian half-brother, even though it was perfectly well known that Matthew could hold his own.

While Alfred was completely distracted with his search for his brother, Arthur was becoming more and more painfully aware of the slinky gazes of certain young women. They rested on his shoulders and down his back, crawling along Alfred's face and his chest.

They made Arthur both uncomfortable and a bit peeved. No one was allowed to look at Alfred like that but himself.

His hand tightened incrementally on Alfred's and he soon began to be the one who was dragging the other of their duo along. Anything to get away from those impertinent stares who very obviously recognized them both from their circus performances earlier.

In his haste, he wasn't looking where he was going, and was unfortunate enough to walk straight into a younger girl, making her stumble back a few steps into what was assumed to be her older brother. The elder sibling was immediately upset with Arthur's manners, and began to yell at him in a harsh Swiss accent, his green eyes flashing and chin-length blond hair shaking with the force of his fury. His younger sister gazed apologetically up at Arthur and immediately began to try to drag her self-righteous sibling away.

After that odd encounter, and an amused chuckle from Alfred, Arthur chose to slow down. "Come now," he said to Alfred, eyes casting about for a booth that was offering good food, "let's get something to eat and then find ourselves a seat. I think we should do some people watching."

"Sure, but I want to pick the stand," said Alfred, ever the petulant one when it came to food. Arthur simply nodded his assent.

After a few minutes of walking and queuing, they managed to find a seat, both with a warm pretzel in their hands. It was drawing to the close of November, and the weather was more than a little chilly. It was a wonder that snow hadn't fallen yet, but Arthur supposed it was only a matter of time. He couldn't help but to wonder where they would be sleeping tonight, if that was even in the cards at all.

After his performance earlier that day, he had been unnaturally exhausted. He laid it down to his two days without sleep.

Alfred spoke up first. "Arthur, you never did tell anyone, but what made you join this circus?"

Arthur was surprised, having never been directly asked about his past. He could see no problem with telling Al, but he certainly took his time.

"My family moved here just before World War I; I wasn't alive at the time, it was 1912 after all. The year of the Titanic," he gave a wry smile, suddenly finding his pretzel to be unappetizing. "I have three brothers: Allistor, Dylan, and Seamas. Allistor is the eldest, Seamas the second eldest, and Dylan is older than me by about a year. I'm the 'baby of the family.'" He put quotation marks around these words, signifying that he wasn't entirely fond of them.

Alfred said nothing, terrified that if he did speak up, he would shatter the calm that Arthur seemed to have lulled into. The Englishman was generally so cut off from the rest of them, unwilling to share anymore than was necessary about himself.

"Then our father died, and it was up to our mother to support the three of us. The second Allistor was old enough, she pulled him out of school and got him working so that he could help pay for the rest of us. As you can probably imagine, this inspired some spite on his part. By the time I was of age, all of my brothers had been pulled out. My mother decided to keep me in school. I don't know why, but either way, my brothers began to seriously resent me by that point. While I was looking towards a bright future, their only prospects were farm work and factory hands.

"By October 29, 1929, I was in university. My mother was the only one of my family to wish me goodbye on the train platform. We were in the wild countryside of Kansas back then, and I was headed to Penn State. Somehow I'd been given a full scholarship. That was the last I saw or heard from my family."

Alfred was impressed with the high-caliber of education that Arthur had managed to attain. Nothing of that nature had been available for Alfred. He'd just grown up in Lynchburg, Virginia where there was little to do but farm and enjoy the local pumpkin festival. He was a boy from a poor family, and one of the few things of interest for him that his family could actually afford was horse racing and fire.

"How did you get so good at sword fighting?" he asked finally, unwilling to break the solemn quiet but unable to say no to his curiosity.

Arthur laughed then, amused with a part of his past that Alfred was now dying to find out about. "As silly as this will no doubt sound, as was absolutely fascinated with the English privateers of the 1700s. Their bravery, their independence, their cunning. So I found some lessons and began to attend classes, paying for them out-of-pocket. I got really good really fast, and soon the instructor was urging me to take up some sort of career in it. I never really listened to him because of the fact that my family had sacrificed a lot to allow me the choice to go to university. I couldn't let them down by going after a career in sword fighting." His voice held a faint threat of disdain, and an amused laugh emanated from the American next to him.

A flash of annoyance reeled through Arthur before he realized the ridiculousness of what he was saying. He was making fun of something that was now his livelihood. A small laugh of his own peeled through his lips and he took a few bites from his pretzel, noting that Alfred's was conspicuously missing. The man must have finished it already.

"And then the economy crashed. I couldn't continue paying for my sword lessons—not that I really needed them by that point—and I was halfway through university. Funding cut out, and those of us on scholarship were tossed out. That's when I realized that my 'useless' sword fighting skill could actually have a purpose, and then I found you lot." He shrugged and took the last few bites of his pretzel before tucking his hands into his pockets and peering about at the slowing men and women. The day was drawing to a close, the sun setting on the wintery afternoon. The stands were being to close up, their clapboard sides folding easily, their wares being packed away in boring wooden boxes. The setting sun cast autumnal shades or orange and brown and red over the bare land, the grass torn away by people's churning heels. A harsh wind blew, telling of possibly snow in the future. The amount of people had dwindled to a select few, mainly older men who were looking for some alcohol before the circus moved on to its next city.

"What about you?"

Alfred shrugged, scuffing his feet on the bare dirt. His story wasn't much to tell. "I grew up in Lynchburg, Virginia. My parents were both farmers, and I never even got to dream of going to college like you did. I grew up on the thrill of a racetrack, and the even more exciting exercise of manipulating fire. My father hated seeing me mess with it, insisted it was some form of witchcraft. I had to start practicing in secret, but gradually I got pretty good. When I announced to the family that I was leaving, well, my mother didn't take it well. She broke into tears and fled to her room. My father has never forgiven me for leaving them like that, and for taking Matthew with me. He'd planned on telling them that he was leaving that night as well. We're close, ya know? So we both left that night. I don't think our father was aware of Matthew's absence until he found that none of Mattie's clothes were in the house. We spent a couple of nights on the streets before Antonio picked us up. Ours was a small circus back then, but as you can see, we've gotten bigger." A gentle silence settled after this, with Arthur eventually slotting his fingers through Alfred's and holding the other man's hand.

"We should head back, the others are no doubt looking for us," suggested Arthur, getting to his feet and brushing off his clothes. They were old, and worn through, and perfectly unsuited for cold, wintery weather. He could only hope that Antonio was aiming to hit Southern California next, or someplace significantly warmer, or Arthur was going to have to fork over some money for proper clothing.

He held a hand out to the still-sitting Alfred, smiling as the other man's bigger hand settled comfortably in his palm before he tugged him up and on his feet.

Alfred gave a grateful smile before beginning to walk, not waiting for Arthur to catch up. And Arthur decided to take his time, admiring the outline of Alfred's broad shoulders against the waning light of the setting sun.

By the time they returned to the tent's site, everyone had settled into their places in the cars. Antonio always insisted on driving one of them, and Ludwig was adamant that he be in charge of another. This left Arthur, Alfred, Francis, or Matthew for the third one. They were going to have to get in as many miles as possible before it became inarguable that they had to pull over. These cars didn't go very far on a couple gallons of gas.

Francis was already in the front seat of the other car—much to Alfred and Arthur's relief—with Matthew riding shotgun. This left Alfred and Arthur the back, where luggage cases had been stuffed. Alfred scotched it all to the far left and settled in the middle, Arthur being forced to squeeze in on his right.

In this way, everyone headed off. Nikol, Eliza's horse, received a carriage all to himself. It was a different breed, one that Alfred had certainly never seen before, made out just for a horse to live in supreme comfort. He could only assume that Elizaveta had made some modifications for her beloved equine. In another carriage were two cages, each holding one of Yao's big cats. A third was the proud transporter of the circus tent and supplies for handling the exotic animals and horses of their group. Ox pulled these carriages, as they were easy to care for.

In the car with Antonio was Romano (side seat), Gilbert (behind the driver's seat), and Elizaveta (squashed next to Gilbert in much the same manner Arthur was to Alfred). With Ludwig was Feliciano (also side seat), and Yao. Their car was the one with the most luggage and other supplies. It was crammed to the roof, and Arthur was honestly surprised that Yao could fit in it at all.

They chugged along in a narrow procession, a rope tied from the halter of the ox that powered the lead cart to the car that was chugging along in front of it. Another car was behind that cart and the same thing was applied to the vehicle and the cart behind it. And then the same thing after that, so that each car had its own little cart or carriage attached to it.

Luckily for Arthur, he didn't have to drive at all that night. Francis switched out with Matthew, and that was as far as it went. They continued their travels until dawn broke on the outline of the next little town in front of them.

Their procession rolled in as morning mist was crawling along the town's dusty streets. It still hadn't been paved, and no road signs had been posted. This place was very much out of touch with the world around it.

Antonio hopped out of the leading cars passenger door, having been replaced by Gilbert at some point that night, and walked up to the town hall, knocking lightly on the wood. It was mandatory that they ask the mayor's permission before they set up shop.

A maid appeared, her short blond hair barely noticeable beneath the fabric that she was wearing atop her head. She had brilliant green eyes, however, and an adorable little nose. Arthur almost felt guilty for noticing this, but not quite, as he saw that Alfred was thoroughly enthralled with her too.

After a moment of chatter between the two, Antonio was led inside. Twenty minutes later, he was back out and with a large grin pulling his lips apart to display his unfairly gorgeous teeth. He made sure to stop by the car windows and tell the drivers of what the plans were.

"We have permission to camp out here, this is great, no?" he asked cheerfully before moving on to the next. Matthew said nothing, too quiet for his own good, and just followed after the carriage in front of him once it began moving. They were at their 'camp' destination in minutes. It was a field off to the left of the city, removed enough to not be too much of a ruckus to anyone, but close enough so that people could get there easily.

Once they'd parked the cars and scouted out the land allocated them, they all settled back for breakfast. Elizaveta and Yao disappeared to go and take care of their respective animals. Francis got started on cooking breakfast, as he always did every time they moved on to a new town. He was brilliant with food.

Arthur remained disgruntled and rude until someone placed a cup of tea in his hands. Matthew was always much the same in the mornings, and once they were both placated, in made for a better experience all around. Alfred made it his habit to suck down a mug of coffee every morning, and Francis varied depending on his mood. Yao was generally fine without anything. Feliciano and Lovino were as well, though if the option was available to them, they were always eager for wine.

Once finished with breakfast (eggs and bacon) everyone immediately invested themselves in getting the tent set up. It always required full effort from everyone, as the tent wasn't exactly tiny. Once they set up that monstrous centerpiece, the customary stall owners would shet up shop surrounding it.

Arthur never had to do much after that, other than help others out. Gilbert's job was getting swords and costumes out and checking to make sure that they were okay and in tip-top shape.

Alfred didn't have much of a job after that either. So long as all of his necessary materials were there, then he was good to go. And he was pretty ingenious whenever he found out that he was a little lacking in one more so than the other. There was always a way to fix a seemingly un-fixable problem. So they both helped by unloading luggage and re-parking cars. The back tent was set up, where the performers would sleep and change as needed, and food was stashed there. They could spend anywhere from two to five days in one location, though this one looked like a two-dayer.

Once everyone was done with their separate set-ups, which took about four hours, Antonio gathered them all together for a group discussion.

Apparently the Spaniard had some new ideas to lay out on the table. As they all settled in, he commenced, buzzing with electricity and delight. He always had excited green eyes, which were set back in a tan face. His brown hair would swoosh across his forehead to make for a perfectly swoon-worthy young man for any interested young woman. A glimpse of his pearly whites was all Arthur needed to know. Some of their performances were about to get changed around.

"Buenos días, mis amigos!" he chirped, spreading his arms wide. A groan of distaste from Lovino was the only sound that greeted him in the ensuing silence. None of this bothered Antonio, however, he merely continued on. "I have some ideas for you all! For starters, Gilbert. I want you and Eliza to combine your heads and figure out an act, alright? One that both of you can take part in." He then turned on Arthur and Alfred. "And you two! I really want something from the both of you that involves fire and sword fighting, entienden?" Once he got a nod of assent from Gilbert, Eliza, Alfred, and Arthur, he settled back down and resumed the meeting as was normal.

But neither Arthur or Alfred were really paying attention. Both of their minds were focused solely on what they could do to combine their acts.

By the end of the meeting, Alfred was squirming with enthusiasm. He was pretty sure that he had an awesome one, and as soon as he could get Arthur alone, he was going to tell him.

Arthur Kirkland was wearing khaki pants, a black shirt with a brown patches at the elbows, and red suspenders. It was hardly the most fashionable of things, but it was functional and he could wear it just about anywhere. Alfred was wearing something similar, just with a dark blue shirt, that balanced nicely with his eyes, and pale yellow suspenders. Neither of them were in circus outfits just yet.

At meeting's end, Arthur found himself being pulled away by the familiar tactlessness of Alfred. He made no measure to stop the action, however, and only once they got to a removed location did he finally speak up.

"What is it, Alfred, that you couldn't tell me over there?"

The man in question ignored the slightly annoyed edge to Arthur's voice and launched right into his plan for their new act. By the end of it, his English counterpart was smiling.

"I like it."

.||.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our next performance!" Antonio's excitable voice rolled out over the audience, frolicking among their seated bodies and inspiring thrilled grins.

That was Alfred and Arthur's cue.

After Alfred told Arthur of his plan, they'd both sprinted over to where Antonio was, racing each other to see who could get there first. Arthur had beat Alfred, as he was in better shape than the other, and was very eagerly talking about their new act, surprising the Spaniard as Arthur wasn't exactly known for his enthusiasm.

Of course, Antonio hopped immediately on the bandwagon and their performance was checked to be performed that day, which sent Alfred and Arthur immediately to practice.

And this all led to moments before their big, first real performance. The two cutlass were wrapped in Arthur's hands, and he was bouncing readily on the balls of his feet. Alfred was tossing the tar sticks from hand to hand, ready to strike them and set them on fire. He too was antsy, though he didn't display this nervousness in the same sword-inclined way that Arthur did.

At the end of Antonio's introduction, they both rushed out, Alfred taking a little longer than Arthur because he had to alight his tar sticks.

The minute they were both in the center, the battle began. It was wonderful, and Arthur could feel the heat sizzling at his arms even as he shared blows with Alfred. The American was a quick study, and he knew the basic sword motions in a couple of hours. So they set about their duel, Alfred's flames serving to highlight certain parts of their features, and light along their shared costumes. They were dueling pirates. One of them had lost their ship and was fighting with her burning wood to take Arthur's own vessel.

Arthur's lips were peeled back in a vicious, shark-like smile as he struck and swung about, his costume swishing around his figure, hat splashing a shadow across his face to hood his eyes. They were only ever illuminated when the fire got close enough, and then the flames lurked over the emerald color of them, making them alluring and frightening. Or, at least that was how Alfred would describe Arthur.

The audience watched the dueling duo, noticing how easily they flowed around one another. The flames danced from one hand to the other, wrapped around Arthur's cutlasses and flowed along the line of Alfred's shoulders and arms, illuminating his face and the lines of muscle decorating his arms and throat.

Boys were sitting on the edges of their seats, struck with the danger and amazingness of the performance before them. Their mouths were dry and caught in "o's" of fascination. The flame flickered in their eyes, varying in colors of blue, green, brown, and hazel. Their bags of candied peanuts were laying forgotten in their laps, hands squeezing the grainy wood of the chairs beneath them (those had been supplied by the town).

By the end of the performance, Arthur had Alfred pinned to the floor, one sword stuck flush against Alfred's ear and the other hovering above his throat. The sticks of flame were resting inches above the ground as they posed for their photo finish.

The audience was on their feet in seconds, whooping and cheering and applauding.

Alfred was staring up at Arthur, a huge grin showing his teeth. Sweat was dotting his brow, and his chest was rising and falling with its gasps for air.

Arthur was mirroring the other's expression. He was crouched over his partner, and was very reluctant to get off, but get off he did. The flames were carried off the stage by the ever-helpful Feliciano and dumped in a bucket of water, and Alfred and Arthur both bowed before taking their leave. Antonio gave them an approving thumbs-up as they trotted past one another.

Upon entering the back tent, Arthur found that he couldn't hold himself back anymore. Very quickly, and very expertly, he backed Alfred up against a tent wall. He was well aware that it was too flimsy to be able to hold Alfred's, and his, weight, but he didn't care much at the time.

Alfred could sense the atmosphere, for once in his life, and was well aware of what the Englishman was after. A coy smile was playing on his lips as he raised a challenging eyebrow. "Whatever could you want, Kirkland?" he asked coquettishly, his tar-blackened fingers running along Arthur's neck and smearing some of the substance on the skin there.

Arthur said nothing, the cutlasses clattering to the floor, rebounding off of one another. Arthur grabbed one of Alfred's tar-marked hands and began to press kisses to the palm, not caring about the thick matter adorning the wrinkles. Alfred said nothing more after that, aware that this was not a moment for speaking.

Arthur resumed charting his course, winding his fingers along Alfred's clothes and hair and skin, feeling the movements of muscle beneath the veil of flesh.

Alfred began to follow Arthur's actions, getting daring as his lips initiated a kiss. Arthur was more than pleased to react, and soon they were divulging into territory that was a little riskier than their earlier motive.

Needless to say, as the performers were being called up at the end of it all, the two most-adored were not there to receive the final round of applause.

The end! I do hope that everyone enjoyed this. I am pretty proud of what I did, ish. Eh.

I do hope that the one who requested it is pleased, and I do take requests for those of you who read this as well. :)

Have a wonderful day!