Updates may be sporadic these next few weeks. I have two conventions coming up that I'm making costumes for. So I am busy as heck making intense cosplays. To make up for the extreme shortness of the previous chapter, this one is freaking huge. So I hope you have some snacks and a drink!

The party seemed never-ending. Alfred had been accosted by a few women, who were curious enough to come speak to the aloof American. Unlike George, he wasn't a good dancer and only smiled politely and declined the women in stuttering French. Others were seeking stories of why the Americans were here, what was happening in the states, and the French flew right over his head.

After many tries, the women eventually gave up and turned their attentions to the other Americans. Franklin was absurdly popular, and Alfred would have laughed if the inventor didn't seem to be enjoying himself so. His casual and quiet tendencies seemed to woo the ladies without his even trying.

George, unlike Alfred was too much a gentleman to turn away the women seeking an audience with him.

Prussia had long since disappeared with France to do…Alfred didn't really want to know what. Spain was still meandering about. Once again he had been left alone.

He was just about to consider sneaking off when someone cleared their throat behind him. Almost so quietly that he missed it. Alfred slowly turned around, his gaze landing on a well dressed woman who seemed familiar…

Before she could ask the same thing of him as so many others had, Alfred decided to speak first. "Je ne parle pas très bien Français."

If anything she seemed to look positively delighted after he spoke. "Oui? Francis has said otherwise."

Alfred blanched, mouth open as he tried to think of what to say.

"You speak English?" He mentally kicked himself. Not the most elegant of greetings. He seemed to realize this and belatedly bowed, face warm with embarrassment. She spoke English and knew Francis. Not a good combination.

The delicate looking woman nodded with a coy smile on her lips. "Well enough."

Alfred fidgeted, "Oh, that's neat." He noticed Ben looking his way with a curious and somewhat surprised expression. For now he decided to ignore it and looked back to the woman who had yet to introduce herself.

"I'm Alfred." He almost offered his hand to shake hers, but stopped himself at the last moment. Manners and proper greetings were so confusing here.

The woman inclined her head and offered her hand. Alfred knew well enough to gently press his lips to the top of her hand. "And I am Marie Antoinette."

If possible, Alfred felt even more blood drain from his face. As in the Dauphine of France? The Queen?

Her smile widened at the American's reaction. "Francis has been hiding you away from me." Alfred looked around, hoping to find a lifeline somewhere-Like Francis. He'd even settle for Washington or Franklin helping him out.

When his gaze landed on Ben, the man had his back to him and was speaking with the Chief Minister and Foreign Minister of France. George was nowhere to be found, and this left poor Alfred on his own.

He looked back to the bejeweled and refined woman, smiling awkwardly. "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't know. Well I mean to say that I didn't know you wanted to speak with me. Or that Francis was-Ah, y'know."

She waved one hand, smiling. "Come visit me in the Petit Trianon when you can." Marie seemed to have perfect timing, because at that moment two women hurried over and led her away. His heart felt like it might burst at any moment. Francis had not forewarned him about meeting royalty. They were here, yes, but the Marie Antoinette? The young woman Francis seemed so enamored with?

He'd had enough for one day. His chest was getting itchy, and the fancy scarf about his neck felt like it'd choke of his air at any moment. Some fresh air would be just the thing to calm his nerves.

Alfred carefully slipped out of the cramped room and into the hallway, grateful of the fact that the gardens were so close. Otherwise he might never find his way out.

It was late in the evening, and rather cool, but that didn't stop Alfred from walking out onto the terrace.

Lanky arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and Alfred went into panic mode almost instantly. The grip tightened, but before it could cut off his air he quickly shoved one hand up between his neck and whoever's forearm it was.

Alfred fell to his knees, tucking his head and tilting forward as he rolled whoever was behind him over his back and onto their back on the ground in front of him. The burn on his chest pulled painfully but he ignored it. He had bigger fish to fry.

He squinted against the darkness, trying to see who it was that had attacked him. Before he got a chance to figure it out, fingers curled into the expensive vest Francis had insisted on buying, and yanked him forward.

Tucking into a ball and rolling made his stomach lurch, and didn't help much in the end. Someone was sitting firmly on his chest, right on top of the burn. His eyes watered and panic set in. It hurt and he wanted whoever it was off now.

Arms and legs flailed in an attempt to knock the other person off balance, but no such luck. They leaned forward, settling even more of their weight on his chest. Somehow his hands had been pinned down, despite his efforts.

Then he realized something. A regular human would not be able to have held him down so easily. His eyes narrowed, and the clouds above parted for just a moment to let the moon shine down on his assailant.

"Prussia."

The albino all but glowed in the moonlight, but then it was dark again. Prussia leaned back, releasing Alfred's hands as he eyed the nation beneath him. "That was pathetic."

One gloved hand pressed down against his chest, and Alfred hissed in through his teeth, batting it away as he glared at Gilbert. "Stop it."

Gilbert pulled his hand back and looked at it casually before he pulled the glove off with his teeth. He repeated the process with his other hand and then tossed them aside, hands reaching down and resting more lightly above Alfred's heart.

Sticky, hot liquid stuck to his skin, and Gilbert frowned as he examined one hand. He looked to Alfred, who was squirming under him. "Scheißen."

Alfred rolled his eyes and pushed away at his hands again. "Don't be stupid that was there before. You just made it worse." He wasn't thinking straight, or maybe he'd just exhausted his filter for using his mind before he spoke for the day.

"This doesn't excuse you from training in the morning." Gilbert folded his arms, now seated lower on Alfred's torso, and unwilling to move.

The cool breeze was making Alfred shiver. He lifted his head and tried to see how bad the damage was, but he wouldn't know for sure until he got to his room. "Alright, alright. What was this even for?" It hurt his neck to keep it arched like that so he laid his head back on the ground and looked up at the cloudy sky.

The Prussian smirked. "Had to test your reflexes." He rubbed his index finger and thumb together, smearing the blood on his skin further. "You didn't pass by the way."

"What did you expect? You jumped me!"

Gilbert didn't look disturbed by the accusation. "England won't give you a fair warning."

"In the dark!" Alfred's voice got a little louder.

Now Gilbert was beginning to sound bored. "By daylight isn't the only time to attack."

"At a-I give up." It was useless trying to explain to Gilbert just why it wasn't okay to attack your allies in the dark, at a formal event, and then expect them to be alright with it. There was no way this alliance was going to work out.

Alfred's teeth were clattering by this point. The frigid air felt like ice against the blood on his skin and shirt.

"Could you just get off of me, please?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by another voice. "Amérique?"

Never had Alfred been more relieved to hear from Francis than at that moment. Gilbert leaned over Alfred's body, whispering against the side of his face. "Training tomorrow Süßer." Then he was gone, like he'd never been there.

With a groan Alfred sat up, and slowly got to his feet. Just as he regained his footing, Francis stepped out into the gardens and looked directly at him.

"I'm not sure how to feel about this." A wry grin pulled at the corners of Francis's lips. "You abandon my celebration for the gardens." Francis walked over so he stood near to Alfred, shoulders brushing against one another.

Alfred's face heated up. He had skipped out on the party, and that probably wasn't the best way to impress the French. "I was just-" Francis held up one hand, "They are très beau, no?"

A sigh of relief escaped from his lips and his shoulders relaxed. Francis had given him an out, and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "It's really peaceful here." Alfred hunched forward, trying to conceal the spreading wetness on his shirt.

He jumped when an arm wrapped about his waist, with Francis's hand dipping down near his hip. Suddenly his throat felt dry and the night air wasn't as refreshing as it had been. "France?" His voice so did not quiver as he spoke the other nation's formal name.

"I wonder Alfred-Do you know what an alliance entails?"

This conversation was quickly making Alfred uncomfortable. Arthur had always insisted on keeping him away from other countries so as not to form connections. This was new territory, and…And for a moment he wished he was back with Arthur. Where everything was safe, and there were no surprises.

No, he wasn't a coward. He didn't need Arthur. Alfred squared his shoulders and turned so he was facing Francis. He was determined to make this work. "No." This time his voice was strong, or stronger than before at least.

Francis gave him a sidelong glance. "What do you think of France ma petite colonie?"

"It's amazing." Alfred looked to the gardens as he said so, the moonlight making it appear almost ethereal. He smiled softly. "Your philosophers are really inspirational. I'm not big on the whole wig thing, but the people here are nice."

Alfred's focus was forced away from the garden as Francis gracefully stepped into his line of vision. Francis's hand slid along his back with the fluid motion, now resting at his hip as though it belonged there.

"I am glad you think so." Was it just Alfred's mind playing tricks on him or had Francis's accent suddenly gotten much thicker? And why did it seem so hard to breathe?

For some reason his body wouldn't move and he couldn't find the right words to say. It was even harder to think straight when Francis dipped his head so that their lips were almost brushing against one another.

Francis's other hand trailed up, fingers grazing across Alfred's chest. He froze, eyes narrowing as he pressed himself flush against Alfred.

The contact made Alfred cringe, and pull back. Pressure against the opened burn was not a pleasant feeling. He took in a sharp breath and stared off to the side, away from Francis.

"What happened?" Alfred could smell the expensive wine on Francis's breath he was so close.

Alfred chewed on his bottom lip as he tried to think up a decent answer. "It's nothing. Really. I'm made of tougher stuff, besides if it was bothering me I would've told you." He spoke softly, trying to calm Francis.

That didn't seem to do the trick. Francis held onto his hip even tighter. "I need to have a word with Gilbert."

How had Francis figured it out? Wasn't he drunk? Alfred felt a little nauseous at the idea of getting Prussia angry with him. "France-"

Francis gave Alfred a sharp look, daring him to say another word. Then his expression softened and he leaned forward, placing a kiss on Alfred's cheek.

"Go and rest ma petite colonie."

Dismissed, just like that. Alfred watched the French nation storm off, and was left alone on the terrace. He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding the whole time.

He stumbled over to a bench and collapsed onto it, heart racing. Francis was no threat to him, or at least he didn't think so. Yet seeing him like that had made his hair stand on end. If Francis could get so worked up over something so little…

"Holy cow pie."

Then how would Arthur react to his second bout of defiance?

Things didn't seem so simple or exciting anymore.

The next few days were brutal on Alfred, but he had a sneaking suspicion that they would have been worse if Francis hadn't been hovering off to the side-Watching Prussia like a hawk every time they trained.

It was a nice enough day to be outside, but the added pressure of both Francis and Antonio watching made it a little less enjoyable. Well, that and the fact that his chest still hurt from the last few training sessions when Prussia had gotten a little too eager to fight.

Alfred parried an attack from Gilbert, but a moment later the end of the rifle knocked him a good one over the head. He grimaced, but held his ground and dove for Gilbert, managing to catch the Prussian by surprise as he tackled him to the ground.

For once it was Alfred kneeling over the Prussian, breathing heavily with a swelling bruise on his face, but victorious nonetheless.

"Not bad, but England won't hold his hits for you."

Alfred groaned and threw the musket aside. "You were holding back?" That made him feel much worse about his progress-Er, lack thereof. Alfred got off of Gilbert and moved aside so he wasn't pinned beneath him.

With a heavy sigh Alfred sat on the ground cross legged just as Gilbert knelt down in front of him.

"Oi, you're not half bad for some upstart."

Then he got up and walked over to Antonio who was lying on his back and looking up at the sky. Alfred wiped at the sweat on his forehead, exhausted and already starting to feel sore.

He watched the other three nations converse, and sighed quietly. This was one of those times when Alfred felt like he got along better with his own people than fellow nations. Alfred stood up just as a man approached Francis and spoke to him.

Alfred brushed off the dust and grass that stuck to his clothes before approaching them. Francis turned to him and winked.

"I hope you're all packed ma petite colonie."

The other two nations exchanged looks and then walked back towards the palace grounds. Probably to make sure they too were ready for the voyage.

This left Alfred alone with Francis. Which he had been carefully avoiding lately.

"So am I sailing with you?" He began casually, sitting down on the ground once more so he could stretch out his legs. Hopefully before they cramped up much.

Francis watched Alfred, still smiling. "Non."

"What?" That hadn't been the plan. Or-Well, not that Alfred knew all the details, but he figured that it didn't make much sense. "Then who am I…?"

The smile looked almost malicious now. "With Gilbert."

His mouth dropped open, but no words came out. Just sputtering sounds as he tried to figure out why Francis would make him travel with Prussia.

He was still struggling to find a decent response when Francis leaned over him, a glint in his eye. "Have you been evading me Alfred?"

Busted. He swallowed and tried to smile, but it felt strained. "I…"

Francis shrugged his shoulders casually. "It's all been settled, and I'll see you when we arrive in…" He trailed off, "Les États-Unis d'Amérique." Another wink of the eye, this time coupled with a smile as he turned to leave.

Alfred struggled to his feet, and launched himself at Francis's back. His arms wrapped around the other nation's waist as he pressed his face against the spot on his back between his shoulder blades.

"I was avoiding you! But only because I was nervous and because George told me to be careful around you and the others." The words spilled out in a rush. Washington had been very specific when he'd told Alfred to not get too involved with these foreign affairs.

He held on tighter to the motionless nation. "Which I was trying to do, because I didn't want to upset him." He finished up and felt loads lighter for having admitted the truth.

The silence was awkward, and slowly Alfred pulled back, feeling foolish for having even said a word.

Francis was laughing. He turned around in Alfred's loose hold and hugged the colony to his chest in a gentle hug. "You are very silly, but endearing."

Alfred arched one eyebrow and looked up at Francis in disbelief. He thought this was funny? "Wait so you're not mad?"

Another laugh from Francis answered that question. "Non. Your Washington is a smart man."

"Then why am I going with Prussia?" Alfred didn't get it.

Francis's smile softened as he brushed at the bangs that had grown out across the side of Alfred's face. "It is safer."

Understanding washed over Alfred and he sighed in relief. "Gotchya." He grinned, but then realized that he was still holding Francis around the waist and vice versa. Ah, awkward.

Francis didn't seem to notice, and his expression turned somber. "Though it will be a long time away from one another, no?"

It would be strange without the French nation around. Alfred had gotten used to speaking with Francis about philosophy and all sorts of things. He frowned. "I guess so."

Another smile played on Francis's lips as he twirled one strand of Alfred's growing hair around his finger. "You should grow your hair out ma petite."

This time it was Alfred's turn to laugh. "No way! It'd get in the way when I do stuff."

Francis's eyebrows rose in mock curiosity. "'Stuff'? What sort of stuff?"

By now Alfred had forgotten how close they were standing to one another. "Horseback riding, building things, y'know-Stuff."

"There is such a thing as a ribbon." Francis remarked with an amused look.

Alfred scoffed, "No offense Francis but I can't pull off the look like you do." It was such a…In his mind French thing to do. Even if there were quite a few Americans who did the same, it just wouldn't look right on him. He knew it.

"Hm, perhaps you should try it sometime first?" Francis posed the idea softly, almost whispering. "I think it would suit you."

All the while Francis spoke he pressed closer to Alfred, mindful of the still healing burn as he fixed one hand at the small of Alfred's back, and the other in his hair.

Alfred clued into how near Francis was to him and blood rushed to his face. "I should go check on George and make sure he's ready." The excuse felt valid to him at least.

Francis looked mildly hurt at the suggestion. "Without a goodbye?"

"Bye?" Alfred tried, and got a chuckle out of Francis.

"Non. Is that the way you would say farewell to a friend who you won't be seeing for some time?"

Oh, good point. Alfred shook his head and sighed, then realized something. "We're friends?" That was the first time that Francis had said so, and it felt…It felt nice to hear it.

Francis nodded his head. "Oui, very good friends." His fingers pressed in gently against Alfred's lower back, causing him to inch closer.

Alfred grinned, eyes lighting up. "Well alright then!" The Southern drawl was back in his words, and that was the snapping point for Francis. How he had been so reserved and patient all this time was deserving of praise, or at least a reward of some sort.

His head slanted down towards Alfred's, and he pressed their lips together, cutting off whatever Alfred had been rambling on about in that delightful accent of his.

The kiss was unexpected, and Alfred didn't know what to do. Was this another French custom? Was he supposed to respond to the kiss? Questions flew through his mind, but then Francis's fingers brushed through his hair across Nantucket and he decided that kissing was…Nice.

As quickly as the kiss had begun, it ended. Francis opened his eyes and smiled down at Alfred. He laughed softly at the doe-eyed look in his eyes. Had the boy never been properly kissed before? It was a travesty, truly.

"Au revoir ma petite colonie."

Alfred stood there, dumbstruck as Francis left. He could only think of one thing coherently.

"England can never find out." He mumbled, one hand covering his mouth as the other worried at his hair.

The sea was very much like a home to Arthur, but it always made him feel complete to be on land again, his land. He took in a deep breath as he stood on the dock.

There would be time to enjoy being home again later, when Alfred was under control once more and with him.

He sighed and walked into the nearby pub where he was meeting with an informant. Not the most respectable of places, but there wasn't time to waste on proper protocol. He didn't want to worry his King either. Already rumors had spread across the pond, and his people were growing tired of the American nuisance.

Arthur slid into a chair, across from a man who looked just as out of place with his French-styled finery.

The other man leaned forward. "You've arrived just in time. It's been confirmed. He's there."

That was not the most pleasant news to hear upon his homecoming. Arthur pressed two of his fingers against his forehead. "And?"

"They'll be leaving soon. On ships."

Arthur began to grind his teeth together, eyes closing as he took in a calming breath. This could work to his advantage. He nodded to the informant, even managing a slight tilt of his lips in approval. "You've done well."

"That's not all." The man's eyes were bright with anticipation. "There was a Spanish man there, the one you had described in your letters."

One eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "I'm hardly surprised." He mumbled under his breath. "Thank you." Arthur gave the man another nod before turning to leave. It looked like he wouldn't be staying on land for long at all.

Pity, he'd just arrived.

Francis cursed under his breath, French rolling off his tongue in phrases that would make fellow sailors blush. He nearly lost his footing as another barrage of cannons laid waste to the starboard side. His fingers curled around the surviving railing and he glared at the other ship that was so close.

No doubt they'd be planning to board soon. The thought was followed by men breaching the small gap between the ships, and all hell broke loose on the ship deck. Yes, well that had been sooner than he'd anticipated.

"Fils de pute!" Francis was fuming, but pulled his cutlass free from its sheath while he sidestepped men as they fought one another. He had no time for them; he was intent on finding him amongst the chaos.

His eyes scanned the ship deck, but the red jacket was nowhere to be found. The slightest of creaks behind him was all the warning he had. Francis ducked and spun around, slamming his shoulder into Arthur's chest.

He managed to smile at the Brit. "Angleterre, I have missed our chats." The emphasis on the word 'chat' made it sound far less innocent.

Arthur growled through his clenched teeth, bringing his knee up and slamming it into the underside of Francis's ribs. Francis stumbled back, but straightened, holding his blade with impressive regality despite the situation.

"Where-is-he?"

Francis arched one brow. "Where is who mon cher? I cannot read your thoughts."

But a moment after he spoke, Arthur charged at him and metal clashed against metal. Their faces were inches apart. "Don't play coy frog. You've declared war on me by doing this."

So Arthur had finally found out? Francis's head snapped forward, his forehead hitting Arthur's and forcing the Brit back a few steps. "How else am I to get your attention mon amour?"

Arthur was seething, his face red as he took in deep breaths. "This was none of your business. You've lost your claim in the New World, so sod off." His words were clipped short.

"Perhaps it wouldn't be 'my business' if you knew how to take care of him." A sly smile played across Francis's lips as he lowered his lashes, fixing Arthur with the full force of his gaze. "He was starved for attention."

That did it. Arthur lunged forward, and threw his full force behind the swing of his blade. Francis countered with his own cutlass, but the strength behind the blow caught him by surprise. His weapon flew from his grip, and slid across the deck.

Francis's back was arched back over the railing with Arthur's blade at his throat and his other hand tugging viciously on his hair.

"If you so much as touched him I'll slit your throat here and now." The threat rang true to Francis's ears, but this was an interesting side of Arthur to witness. He laughed, eyes filled with mirth.

"Ah so that's how it is. I pity you Angleterre." The blade dug in a little deeper, enough to leave a thin cut across his otherwise unmarred throat.

Arthur's eyes narrowed further. "What are you blathering about?"

Francis just kept on smiling at him, and as he opened his mouth the ship rocked violently. Arthur lost his balance, stumbling back and barely keeping himself from falling as the ship tipped precariously once more.

He looked up to where Francis had been, only to find the smug frog standing atop the railing, one hand holding onto a rope attached to the mast.

"Au revoir, chéri!" Then Francis jumped, leaving Arthur stunned. Had he gone mad?

Arthur ran to the side of the ship, peering over the railing and hissing in frustration when he saw just where the frog had gone. He was currently being pulled aboard a smaller ship, which would no doubt take him to the ship that was now attacking them as well.

He knew that ship. The Ranger was infamous to any British sailor. As much so as the man who commanded her. "John Paul Jones." Arthur breathed the name. Would he ever be rid of that pest?

Arthur turned to go back to his ship to properly fight the cowardly Yank. By the time he and his men had boarded their ship, the Ranger was sailing out of sight.

"After them then!" Arthur shouted to the nearest man in command, who began relaying orders in a booming voice.

Francis was probably gloating over his little victory, but it wouldn't be long before they met again. When they did Arthur would get the answers he had been searching for.

Then a thought occurred to him. Arthur's eyes widened and he reached into the bag at his side to pull out Flopsy. He stared at the stuffed bunny.

"Where was Alfred?"

Whew. Sorry to cut it off there, but didn't want to drag it on too much! Historical notes for this chapter. The Petit Trianon was a château on the ground of the Versailles and was given to Marie Antoinette to redecorate and whatnot. She spoke a variety of languages. Also she was very clever and witty so they say. A charming lady before the courts and the political drama turned her to gambling for pleasure.

My favorite historical figure mentioned in this chapter is that of John Paul Jones who sailed to France during the revolution. He was a very good friend of Benjamin Franklin, and his ship the Ranger was the first American vessel to be saluted by the French! Also he owned the heck out of the British with said ship. Which is quite an accomplishment considering the British Navy's prowess and reputation.

Hope y'all enjoyed the bit of France and America in this chapter. Because it's about as romantic as it'll get for this story. Also keep in mind this story has America and England as the two main characters. Not as a pairing, but just as who the story revolves around primarily. ;D So try not to jump to conclusions eh?

Translations:

Je ne parle pas très bien Français. – I don't speak French very well.

Scheißen – A naughty word in German.

Süßer – Sweetheart.

Fils de pute – Also naughty phrase in French.

Question for my readers – How do you feel about mature content in stories? (For another story I'm working on, NOT This Is Justice.)