Wowzers guys. Thanks so much for all the support. I'm sorry I couldn't reply to all the nice reviews you guys left, but I've been in a constant state of near-death and insanity. :| But thanks so much for understanding about exams and wishing me well. If I could, I'd bake you all cupcakes but for now, accept virtual cupcakes~

And this chapter :D

Warnings: THREESOME, fail, excessive use/fail of pirate-ology, language, sexual situations, OOC-ness

Pairing: US/Canada/UK

Disclaimer: Don't own, I merely borrow for my own amusement.


Alfred whistled cheerfully under his breath, some familiar tune that, thanks to the mood Matthew was in, he had no desire to hear (being slung over someone's shoulders like a sack of potatoes was not exactly his idea of fun).

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!" The other sang brightly even as the other nation glowered.

The superpower had a tight grasp on his northern neighbor. Alfred's right arm was locked around the back of Matthew's knees so the other nation's chest was pressed uncomfortably against the other's sharp shoulder.

"I hate you so much." The Canadian muttered, his face bouncing against the other's back with each jaunty step the blond took. "Like so much….you don't even know."

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred said dismissively, a touch of affection in his voice. "You tell me so all the time."

Behind them (or in front of Matthew, at least), Arthur chuckled lowly.

Straining his neck, Matthew finally glanced up from the street and the navy blue fabric of Alfred's breeches stretched taut across the back of his thighs and studied Arthur—all the way from his polished boots past the coal-black trousers to his crisp white shirt and matching cravat with the shining emerald brooch (that glinted with his eyes) to his captain's tri-cornered red hat and its ridiculously big feather that draped down to his shoulder and his flowing scarlet waistcoat with its golden brocade and buttons—who looked every bit the pirate lord he had once been in the days of his relative youth.

Feeling a frisson of desire tap dance up then back down his spine, the younger nation felt his cheeks heat up when those taunting green eyes locked on his face.

The Englishman, with a raffish, charming leer on his face, tilted his chin up slightly, allowing his hat to tip back and winked at his former colony. "Excited, poppet?" He practically purred.

Matthew, despite the brilliant flush on his face and neck and ears, scowled. "Connard."

Immediately, Alfred's hand swatted his behind (Nunavut, for its large size—he played hockey remember?), his fingers briefly squeezing one of the captive man's pert globes, his fingers digging in teasingly close to his crease), eliciting an indignant squawk from Mathew.

"Watch ye tongue, wench." The blond ordered coolly. "That be the dreaded Captain Kirkland, Terror of the Seven Seas, Lord of the Waves, and Master of thy Soul. If ye value thy life, silence thy sass."

Matthew rolled his eyes.

Arthur merely smiled benevolently. "Now, now. I'm sure the dear boy will learn his place soon." His voice held an undercurrent of darkness and Matthew shuddered at the sensuality of it. "Won't you, Matthew love?"

But Matthew, still a little bitter from before and acutely aware of the strange looks they were receiving from passing people, just sulked, muttering, "You're both mad."


Soon the trio boarded the sailing vessel, its refurbished wood creaking under their feet as it rocked gently in the near still water.

"How exactly were you able to pull this all off?" Matthew couldn't help but ask, curious.

"Called in a fuck-ton of favors and sold our souls to Scandinavia." Alfred muttered. "We're basically sailing from here to Sweden, shouldn't really take more than a few days." He gently let Matthew slide off and cradled the other man's face in his hands. "Thought you might like the…ride." He waggled his eyebrows and with a wink, slid his hands behind Matthew's head and pushed him closer for a kiss. "Since Arthur was—and still is, bee-tee-dubs—a douche and never took you sailing." He dropped a kiss onto the point of Matthew's nose. "And because you never got the full pirate experience."

Before Matthew could start bitching again (and, man, could he go on for hours), Alfred quickly captured his lips in a kiss and slipped his tongue past barely open lips, already flicking teasingly against the other's. He tightened his grip on the other nation, letting his arms slip down so that they were lax around Matthew's waist, one hand splayed possessively on Nunavut.

When he finally pulled away, he couldn't hold back a pleased smirk at the sight of Matthew—lips bruised red and glistening and a vaguely frustrated glare behind all that pink painted across his face.

Unfortunately, Alfred couldn't continue to admire the other blond because a large hand suddenly shoved his face back, causing the superpower to stumble away from his brother.

"And that is quite enough of that. Get the holystone and start swabbin' the deck, ya scurvy swab." Arthur said primly, tossing a glare over his shoulder as he took Alfred's place. Then, with a charming smile at Matthew, the former buccaneer offered his arm. "Mr. Williams?"

"Oh so we're back in character now?" Alfred asked snidely, under his breath. Then his blue eyes widened and he added, indignantly, "I'm swab?"

"What else would you be on my ship?" The Brit sneered.

"First mate!"

Arthur snorted indelicately. "Not even in ye dreams, ya daft git."

"…Can I be first mate?" Matthew interrupted, violet eyes trained on Arthur.

Both men looked over at him, trying very hard to seem like they hadn't forgotten he was standing there.

Matthew decided to overlook it, if Arthur made him first mate.

"Aw, but we were gonna throw you in the bilge and shackle you to the wall and then do some really kinky shit to you." The American explained. "You're our prisoner. You're supposed to fight and struggle and give us a reason to lock you up but because you're so pretty, we were just gonna have sex of dubious content until you admitted to enjoying it then we were just gonna leave you naked in our quarters to serve us. That's how its supposed to go."

Arthur and Matthew just stared at him.

"Have you been reading fan fiction again?" Matthew asked, disapprovingly. When the other blond blushed, the Canadian sighed.

"For the love of the Queen." Arthur swore, massaging his forehead, eyes screwed shut. "Get out of my sight before I throw you overboard."

When Alfred finally stomped away, Matthew turned to his former guardian.

"Sex of dubious consent?" He questioned, raising a slender brow. "Naked in your quarters? And you call Francis a pervert." He scolded, before a positively wicked and completely French grin twisted his lips. "Tell you what." He teased, leaning closer. "You let me be first mate and I'll serve you in any way you want." He purred.

"Even better, you can be quartermaster." Arthur replied (mind already whirring with ideas) without a moment's hesitance, immediately finding his arms full with a very pleased Canadian.

"Do I get to wear a costume too?" He asked excitedly, arms around Arthur's neck (despite being at least an inch or so taller).

"They're not costumes. They are authentic articles of clothing—"

Matthew, more excited about the prospect of finally being a proper pirate, rolled his eyes and pointedly grinded against Arthur, his bright eyes hooded.

Arthur's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Come along then, poppet. Let's get you into the real spirit of things."


"Who the hell does he think he is?" Alfred muttered heatedly, scrubbing away viciously at the deck. "Making me swab. Okay, so it would be really fair and stuff to make Mattie first mate but swab? I could be master gunner or at least a sailor. Stupid jerk making me stay here and clean while he's off sexing up Mattie."

Suddenly, the superpower sat up, ramrod straight, as an epiphany crashed into his face like a Prius smashing into a semi-truck.

"I don't actually have to do this." He said slowly. "He can't make me. He hasn't been able to make me do anything for over two centuries." His Pacific blue eyes narrowed as he threw down the holystone.


"Hah! I knew it!" Alfred crowed after he kicked down the door to the Captain's Quarters.

He pointed excitedly at Arthur—in just his breeches and frilled white shirt—and Matthew…who…was wearing black breeches and a snow-white shirt with a scarlet sash around his waist.

"You're not doing anything." He observed. "I thought we were going to have our wicked way with Matt."

"We set sail first." Arthur snapped, leaning against the bolted down wooden desk in his room, his arms crossed across his chest.

Matthew fiddled with a bit of lace at his collar. "How exactly are we going to do that? We don't have a crew."

"Yeah, where are those guys Artie? They should be here by now."

"Davy Jones could never be bothered about punctuality unless there was a shipwreck or some rot." Arthur muttered, pushing away from the desk and slipping on his waistcoat.

"Dave Jones?" Matthew asked, incredulously. "As in the Davy Jones?"

"Of course. The wanker owes me." The Englishman shrugged, picking a bit of lint off his sleeve.

"Wait an American second!" Alfred interrupted, suddenly looking incredibly pale. "Davy Jones is our crew?" He mimicked tentacles under his chin by wiggling his fingers.

"No, he's providing our crew." Arthur said impatiently. "And he didn't quite like that description of him in your film. Besides, we're just borrowing his souls for a few days, its not as though they're doing much of consequence in these times."

"You're crewing our ship with ghosts?" Alfred's voice trailed off into a squeak. "Half-fish, slimy invisible ghost people?"

"Think of it more as the lost souls of sailors and privateers who long for the opportunity to smell that salty sea air once more." Arthur said, wistfully, holding his hat against his heart. "Good men. Decent men. I sailed with all of them."

"You're filling our ship with dead, former pirates." Matthew stated, feeling as shocked as Alfred looked.

"Privateers." Arthur stressed. "Sweet Bess sanctioned us with her blessed hand."

When Matthew and Alfred didn't look any less terrified, he continued with a huff, "Honestly, you boys never would've survived before the 17th century."


Much to Alfred's terror and Matthew's eventual delight, they set off within the hour (after a very ominous rocking and a sudden chill that had Arthur peeking back into the room with a wide grin, "Off we go, chaps.")

It wasn't, by any means, a truly authentic experience. They had fairly modern amenities (none of their government officials allowed to let them go without all the bells and whistles to prevent any harm. Funny story, Stephen Harper had argued the loudest because he thought England and America would end up losing his nation somewhere halfway through the voyage and had demanded that they put some sort of tracking device on the boat and shoes of the adventuring countries. Even funnier, neither President Obama or Prime Minister Cameron disagreed—apparently they had little faith in their nations' ability to remember the third part of their ménage à trois and also because they wanted to be able to find their nations in case they did some stupid.). They weren't going on a month's long voyage (no Boss approved that no matter how much Alfred tried to convince them of the epicness of such a venture). And Arthur was not allowed, in any shape or form, to go after other ships (even if they were Spanish) and steal their cargo—no matter how much he missed the good old days.

But Matthew was happier than he had been since the argument. He skipped about the ship, talking with the ghosts (since he had the uncanny ability to sense where they were), but spent the most time on the quarterdeck where he chatted with the apparition in charge of steering. Eventually he managed to win over the gruff spirit and was soon behind the helm with a bright smile.

Arthur, who was on the main deck, casually barking out orders every so often (just for show, really, the men knew what to do), watched the Canadian affectionately.

And Alfred? Well, he was still quivering but at least he was quivering in the crow's nest where there were no ghosts.


That night, when the trio retired to the Captain's cabin, they were barely a few steps in after the door shut when Matthew threw himself at Arthur and kissed him full on the mouth.

"I love you." He murmured dreamily, nuzzling the other's jaw-line, already pulling off the other's cravat and loosening his collar.

"And I, you." Arthur said, equally quietly, tucking back a loose strand of golden hair behind Matthew's ear. "Pity you were just a chit back then. A fine swashbuckler you would've been."

"Hey! Where's my love and kiss?" Alfred called out from behind them, already tearing off his boots. "This was my idea after all."

Glancing over his shoulder, Matthew gave the other blond a smile. "Oh, you'll get yours, Al." He said softly, pulling away from Arthur and stepping lightly towards his brother.

Allowing Alfred to pull off his shirt and loosen his breeches and pull off his boots, the Canadian subtly pushed back, sending them both tumbling onto the plush bed. With a laugh, Alfred quickly rolled Matthew over and kneeled over him, peppering kisses onto the other's face and neck and smiling mouth. Then, sitting back on his heels, the superpower shucked off his white and red striped shirt after tossing his feathered hat behind him.

(I'd like to point out here, that, Alfred was wearing the most mismatched clothing.)

Matthew, pushing himself onto his elbows, watched as each inch of sun-tanned skin was revealed.

Arthur watched the proceedings with interest, already pouring himself a bit of rum, green eyes sharp as Matthew and Alfred began to kiss again, Matthew's fingers tangled in short, golden hair as his near twin devoured his willing mouth, the moonlight which streamed through the window fragmenting off their twisting bodies.

Feeling his own member come to life, Arthur set down the glass with a sharp clink and sauntered over to the bed, ready to join his lovers in their play. Alfred, seeing the other's approach from the corner of his eye, scooted up and back, pulling Matthew along with him so that Arthur could slip behind the northern nation. Immediately, Arthur snuck his hand down to the front of Matthew's breeches and palmed the other's clothed crotch firmly, even as Alfred was already nipping sharply at Matthew's pale neck.

Moaning softly, Matthew whispered, his eyes fluttering shut, "You two are teaming up against me?"

"Just enjoying our booty." Alfred teased, his lips moving against Matthew's skin, before he bit down on the tendon in curve where the shoulder met the neck.

Gasping, Matthew writhed against Arthur, his head falling back against the Brit's shoulder. "N-not fair…" he whined, straining further when Alfred licked the area apologetically.

"Pirate." Alfred then said, not so apologetically, as Arthur chuckled warmly, his chest vibrating against Matthew's back.

"But can I at least top Alfred?" Matthew whined, this time turning beseeching eyes at Arthur.

Alfred, knowing full well Arthur would cave in after one look into those swirling eyes of blue and purple, pinched the inside of Matthew's thigh to get his attention. "I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request." He said smugly.

"Ye should thank heaven that we won't leave ye in the bilge to rot." Arthur said sternly, running teasing fingers down Matthew's chest and tweaking his nipples playfully. "But a treasure as lovely as ye self doesn't deserve such harshness." He said, huskily. "Was gonna keep you for ransom but now I think I'll keep ye for me self. Best treasure in all the seven seas." Arthur whispered before Matthew twisted his head around and pressed his lips insistently against the other man's.

Pulling up the other nation more firmly and shifting him to face him, Arthur made Matthew straddle him before not so gently grasping his pale blond hair and tugging back, eliciting a gasp from the boy.

Behind Matthew, Alfred was already tugging down the blond's pants—revealing that the other wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Oh, that's just hot." The American mumbled, blue eyes intent, behind his steel-rimmed glasses, on the snow-white expanse of vital region he was (re)discovering.

"Get on with it, git." Arthur snapped, pulling away from a panting, open-mouthed Canadian to glare at the other blond.

"Yeah, yeah, Artie." Alfred rolled his eyes. "You'll get to dock your vessel soon enough, Cap'n."

In between them, Matthew shuddered, shoulder blades squeezing together. Arthur, remembering that, once again, he had an armful of pliant, warm Canadian, went back to task, slipping his tongue past welcoming lips and running against the ridges and gums of the other's mouth, plundering as any good pirate knew how.

And he was a damn good pirate.


And...this is the part where I realize I'm about to write a couple hundred to a thousand words of smut and I freak out. So, yes, I may have promised glorious, threesome-y sex in this part...but then I got tied up with some vague plot and such...and well, the next part will be hot. ...If I can write proper smut. Like, good, hot, proper smut. -determined face- If I could just show you guys the writhing, sweaty mass of boy sex in my brain right now, it'd be awesome. Instead, I'm gonna have to put it to word...and hope it works. :|

Anyways, yes, Canada had pirates. But, headcannon says that Matthew didn't get to take part because Arthur wouldn't let him and he was really just a little boy in appearance. Alfred got too, but he didn't ask so much as he just did. Arthur, of course, was happily playing gentleman and conquerer to play pirate.

Also, I've put up a poll for those who don't know yet. I want to get back onto my USCanada horse, but I haven't felt so inspired later. This fic is supposed to ease me back in. The poll results will tell me what stories to focus more on updating and I've only put up the stories I hope to update.

Also, yes, Arthur is BFFs with Davy Jones. Yes, I did use pirate ghosts to make my plot work. What? Did you really think any of these three would settle for just floating about in a pirate ship? Nah, its either all or nothing, baby~

So, yes, cutting this increasingly long note short, the next (and final) part will be up soon. I'm now on break so (hopefully) I can update stuff and finish this.

Yes, and sorry to any reader from Nunavut. It is Matthew's tush. ...because its big...like Matthew's tush. Headcannon says Matthew has a huge ass (-shot-). Ahaha, what would his other body parts be? (I guess I wonder the same for Al and Arthur.)

Good? Bad? Or should I walk the plank? XD