Hey y'all happy new year! Uh i wanted to get this out before 2022 but this chapter just kept going lol! Anyway im happy to say this chapter is in fact about al and tex and no one else! Its even from one of theirs's perspective :0 how crazy is that! also i got a comment on the last chapter! AND someone favorite and followed me as an author which is just so thank u so much! (also if u speak spanish and the spanish here is atrocious PLEASE TELL ME)

In response to my lovely commenter, Nimbletonia, I'm definitely going to write about Hawai'i and the Pacific Theater as well as an american death centered chapter so dont worry we will get into the nitty gritty of it all! i just got a little burnt out by the end :/ BUT thank you so much for even taking the time to comment!

Also i shoudlve said this earlier but every chapter title (and the fic title) comes from a song on a playlist I made for the Boyz lol if u wanna know what songs they are ill start adding them but they wont always go with the chapter sometimes its literally just the lyric lol

Please R&R!


The saloon was dimly lit and smelled heavily of smoke and cheap alcohol. It was the kind of place Al and Tex frequented often, especially now that the Indians were finally being sent off to their reservations and his people could truly settle this savage land. And they were, with every homestead built, with every village raised, Alfred could feel that incessant itch in the back of head get scratched, felt stronger and more whole than he had since, well, ever. He knew Tex felt it too, knew his brother was faster now, lighter on his feet and steady in a way he'd never been. And with their recent victory over Spain and then again in the Philippines, he and Tex were well on their way to being a great and feared nation. One with sprawling lands, bountiful colonies, and riches beyond compare. 'From sea to shining sea', the song went, and they had made sure not to disappoint.

It felt good, to finally be whole.

Of course, all this new downtime he and Tex suddenly found themselves with was getting to both of them. Neither of them were used to staying in one place for too long; both too restless and filled with a shared sense of adventure to pick one place in the vast land they called their own and stay. They were pioneers! They were soldiers! They were explorers!

They were…suckers for the limelight apparently.

America lifted his head, ignoring the half-drunk tankard of whiskey he'd been nursing for the last half hour, and turned to where he knew Tex would be: at the piano. Now it's not like Alfred didn't know that Tex could be a total ham when given the opportunity, or that Tex was, when he wanted, a very good piano player. He just didn't know those two aspects of his personality could coexist, or that he would ever see the day Tex used a skill he learned under his father's reign in public.

America leaned back against the bar counter, trying not to feel as put out as he really was; it was just that, well, Alfred didn't like being ignored and it seemed every time they went to a saloon or a barn-raising Tex would get swept up in all the attention from the girls or take over for the pianist whenever he went on break. Leaving Alfred by himself for half the night, which had happened yet again.

Tex was playing that new ragtime song he'd learned back in New Orleans last time they visited. The Entertainer it was called, bouncy and flashy and just like Texas on his worst days. His audience, soldiers on leave and the younger generation of settlers, were being wowed by the way his hands danced along the keys and the constantly changing tempos. As the song came to an end, the crowd cheered and Al had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the not-so-humble 'thank-yous' spewing out of Tex's mouth.

Luckily for America, the real pianist had come back from his break and was already shooing Tex away. His brother slowly ambled his way back to the bar, flashing wide smiles at the few ladies brave enough to be at the saloon so late, and trading quick jokes with a few of the soldiers on leave they had both served with. Finally, Texas settled in the bar stool next to Alfred, stealing a swig from America's luke-warm whiskey, "I was pretty good, wasn't I?" He asked, glancing back at the piano.

Alfred let out a little huff, wanting nothing more than to tell him off for leaving him behind again, but held his tongue, "Yeah, you were great." His tone was a little too flat to sound genuine, and Al could see the hurt flash across Tex's face, "I mean," He backtracked, trying to prevent another public argument, scenes like that just ended with both of them being banned from the saloon and being so far out in (former) Indian country there weren't many other options for cheap alcohol and music, "it was great like always! I'm just–I'm just tired." He sighed out the last part, hoping the genuine exhaustion in his voice was enough to throw Tex off his trail.

Tex's eyes narrowed, looking him up and down, before he snatched up the whiskey once again, this time taking two big gulps and slamming the tankard on the counter once he was finished, "Well, if you're that tired, you shoulda told me!" He said, tossing a few bills on the counter before pulling Alfred up and towards the swinging doors of the saloon, "I woulda cut my set in half, little brother! Or at least told Charles to come back before the half hour mark."

"Oh no! I wasn't tired until just then. I guess the latest campaign just hit me, huh?" Al said. A cold desert gust of wind blasted through them both, causing Tex to speed up their slow meander to a jog. He always hated the cold, for all he bragged about being bred to withstand the sweltering heat of his land and the new territories they shared.

Tex threw an arm around his shoulder, trying and failing to disguise the shiver wracking his frame, "Yeah, I'm pretty tuckered out too. Just didn't wanna cut the celebration short, you know? Who knows how long until we get our next assignment," Alfred nodded, their government was never the most forgiving when it came to rest inbetween military postings, especially for Tex who was dead in the eyes of most nations and was free to move from campaign to campaign without consequence.

Alfred tried not to resent Texas for shirking his duty, but sometimes he just wished he'd have some back up in those meetings. The Old World powers, as he and the Tex had taken to calling them, looked down at him. Their eyes filled with disgust at his unfashionable clothes and snide remarks fell out of their mouths whenever they thought he was out of earshot. If he had Texas with him those comments would slide off him like water off a duck's back, but the longer he was alone in Europe, away from the land made him up and the people who respected him, the more they hurt.

Not that he would ever admit that. It was one thing to feel his heartbeat thump in dread as he passed France or, God forbid, England with sweaty hair and a grimey face, but to say outloud how much he still wanted to impress them was mortifying. He and Tex had agreed a long time ago that no one's opinions of them mattered but their own. And if one of them got caught up in the fruitless effort of trying and failing to live up to their father's standard they'd smack some sense into them.

Emphasis on the smack.

America had lost count of the amount of times Texas had slapped him upside the head for 'actin' like a dandy' whenever England was set to visit made his head spin. Not to say that Texas hadn't had his fair share of almost-too-harsh shoves or slaps, but by the time they'd agreed to keep each other in line, Texas was on his way off the world stage. Which meant he didn't have to worry about continuously presenting bigger and better discoveries to Europe's finest.

Before Alfred knew it, they were back in their hotel room, and Tex was already stripping down, his jacket and vest neatly folded on the weathered dresser in the corner. Al quickly busied himself with doing the same, setting his glasses away and pulling back the bedding, "I'll do our laundry tomorrow, yeah?" He said quietly, taking in the pile of dirty clothing that was beginning to form on the lone chair they were allotted.

Tex hummed quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed and fiddling with the case he kept his cigars in. The low light of the oil lamp cast his face in a warm glow, and Alfred could see a hazy flush of alcohol across his cheeks and bags under his drooping eyes. Maybe that quick retreat from the saloon was for both of their benefits. Alfred shook off his pants, leaving them to lay on the dusty floorboards, and laid down, cringing at the way the cheap linen scratched along his back.

He was really hoping for a telegram from one of their superior officers within the next week, funds were running a bit low the longer they went without assignment, and Al was beginning to miss the crisp air of Virginia.

"I'm going out for a smoke before turning in." Tex mumbled out, before pushing himself off the bed and out the door. Alfred smiled, telling him to not take too long, and silently thanked the Lord for giving him such an understanding brother, even if it only seemed to count for this one thing. Al's aversion to smoke ruined more than a few friendships over the years, souring his fellow soldiers against him, and making them think he was some stuck up rich boy who couldn't handle their lifestyles. Truth was though, that Al just hated the smell of smoke, it made him feel claustrophobic for some reason and it always seemed to clog his throat and sting at his eyes no matter how far away he was from the actual fire.

When he'd asked Tex if he would be willing to smoke outside when they were together, he'd expected to be met with indignation or even anger at being asked such a ridiculous question. Smoking with your brother was supposed to be a bonding experience, an easy and quiet activity to wind down a hard day's work, one that Al could never stomach. But Tex had surprised him, simply nodding and moving to the porch without a word. It was one of the first times Alfred knew that Texas was different from the rest, and when Tex came back inside smelling of tobacco and the frigid winter air Alfred smiled and offered him his best quilt to warm up in.

A yawn broke through, and America decided Tex was old enough to navigate the small room in the dark. As he moved to turn out the lamp at his bedside, Alfred's eyes drifted over to Tex's other instrument of choice: his beloved banjo. The stringed instrument hadn't left his side in near fifty years, whenever they weren't fighting or in a meeting with their leaders, Tex was strumming along, entertaining little kids and charming young ladies until they were twittering messes. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't so fun to watch, Al always got a laugh out of seeing all the ladies' suitors glare and mutter under their breaths while Texas enticed dance after dance from them.

America smiled at the memory, Tex had been chased out of more than one town dance in recent years, and that had been before he'd begun picking up every instrument he could get his hands on. He'd started with banjo when they were on the Oregon trail, introducing their entire wagon party to it before moving onto the harmonica then the hammered dulcimer and soon enough Tex could play almost any instrument a band found themselves in need of.

A stab of…something that Al wasn't going to think too hard about hit him in the chest, and he forced his gaze away from the old thing. Trying to remember Tex's face as he showed it to him the very first time and not the growing panic slithering in his chest.

It was 1843 and America was on the adventure of a lifetime. Well, this lifetime at least. The path to Oregon Territory was long and treacherous with unsettled land and savage Indians around every corner. Danger hummed in the air and Alfred felt all the more brave for being a part of one of the first wagon parties heading out. It was so exciting! He hadn't been on a real, bonafide adventure in, goodness, a decade almost. No wonder he was buzzing with some much anticipation and restless energy.

There was also the fact that Texas was planning on joining the party once they passed near the Republic. Alfred felt a smile spread across his face at the thought of having a companion on these adventures now. He and Tex were a lot alike when it came to expansion and exploration, always the first ones willing to sign up for the move and ready to risk their endless lives for knowledge and territory.

He'd been on the trail for about two months, when they hit Fort Laramie at the edge of Sioux Country, and Al could barely contain himself. It didn't help that the ladies in the other wagons were beginning to grate on his nerves, staring on with pitying looks as he did his chores or trying to mother him by pulling him into their family dinners. It was a little annoying at first but now every time he mysteriously found himself partnered with one of the boys his age or discovered his torn pants miraculously mended he wanted to scream! They thought he was some helpless orphan who'd taken on more than he could handle, and whenever he spoke about his brother meeting them at the next stop they nodded along with that same placating expression Fa–England would when he thought Alfred was being especially irrational.

Today though, he would finally have an ally against them. Someone who respected him as an equal and knew that Alfred wasn't some little child in need of guidance or a loving hand, no he was a soldier and pioneer. He was a full grown, independent nation and deserved to be treated as such. America shook his head, trying to get rid of the frustration that had been building in him and focus on what supplies he and Tex would need for the next two months of travel time.

The next few hours passed quickly, Al found himself absorbed in sorting the goods the men had bought and watching the oxen when his usefulness had been spent. It was times like these, when he was alone and could feel the earth around him buzz with energy, that America felt most like himself. With the summer breeze ruffling his hair and the sound of the river rushing in his ears, he was at peace; though, if the other nations saw him in his worn cotton clothes and dirty shoes he knew they would scoff at him for being a poor and simple farmer. Alone and unaware of how foolish he looked to the rest of the civilized world.

"Oyé, Jones! I been looking all over for ya!"

Except he wasn't alone, was he?

Alfred's heart stuttered in excitement, and a grin spread across his face so wide his cheeks hurt. He scrambled to his feet, and ran off towards his brother, "Texas!" He crowed, ignoring the confused looks he was getting from the few people still lingering near the parked wagons. Texas, who was frantically waving his wide brimmed hat in the air, it's pristine white flashing starkly against the blue of the sky, yelled out to him. As he grew closer and closer, Al ran faster and faster, too fast for a normal human but no one had paid that much attention to him in decades. He gave out one more yell of his brother's name before tackling him to the ground. Tex let out a hiss of air as his back hit the ground, and Alfred let out half a laugh at the Republic's dazed expression before catching a knee to the gut himself.

Texas shoved him off, rolling to a sitting position and grabbing his, now dusty red, hat off of the uneven ground it had fallen to, "Boy, Al, you really know how to make someone feel welcomed." He huffed out, a crooked smile gracing his features even as he tried to brush off the dirt smeared on his clothing.

America shook the stars from his eyes, reminding himself not to get in a real fight with Tex, never mind his own outstanding strength, "Well, I've been waiting for you all day!" He said, letting out a giddy laugh, "This is the start of our first real adventure! Just think; four whole months on the road and then we'll have the entirety of Oregon Territory to explore!" He shouted, waving his hands in the air.

Tex pushed himself up, before offering Alfred a hand, "Al, are you saying my visits to your country weren't exciting enough for you?" He asked in a serious voice.

"No! It's just–now we won't have to worry about Mexico butting in, or any government officials trying to make us into politicians!" Alfred backtracked, trying to prove that Tex's company was always well received.

He opened his mouth to continue, but the snort that left Tex's mouth stopped him. A hand landed on Alfred's shoulder, "Alfred…I know. Azura was always so caught up in us being proper that she forgot how to have fun a long time ago." He smirked from under his unruly curls, "Besides, Texas and Virginia have already been explored and settled. Oregon, though?" He pulled Al close, an arm over his shoulder and America could see the excitement sparkle in his dark eyes, "That's all you and me, brother!"

The rest of the day passed quickly, and, soon enough, Tex bid his entourage goodbye, promising to write as frequently as he could, before it quickly and quietly devolved into rapid Spanish between him and a serious looking man in his fifties in a decorated uniform. As the conversation dragged on, moving from cold politeness to angry hisses, America felt his eyes glaze over. Spanish was the one language he'd never even heard before meeting Tex. England hated Spain almost as much as he hated France, but neither he, nor Alfred, could avoid hearing French, especially after Mattie came to live with them. Spanish, on the other hand, was spoken too far south for Alfred to care about, and, before the Louisiana Purchase, kept behind yet another French colony.

"Sí, sí, una carta al mes. Lo entiendo." Tex ground out, before he began to frantically shoo the man into the lone carriage, "¡Ahora vete!" The man turned at the harsh tone, his bushy eyebrows furrowing into an angry frown, but before he could speak again, the horses began to move back down the road. Tex gave the man one last angry smile before shouting out, "¡Adiós señor!"

Once the procession had finally left sight, Tex let out a harsh sigh, rubbing his hand over his face, "Sorry about that, Al. I keep tellin' them to stop speaking Spanish this far north, but some of 'em just won't listen." Alfred gave his brother a stiff smile, feeling like he'd missed something, not that that was a very uncommon feeling, but Texas usually wasn't the nation to bring it about. Tex pulled his hat down, obscuring his face, "No one heard that, right?" He whispered.

Al stared at his brother in confusion before understanding, "No, no one's around, Tex. Don't worry." He said, desperately hoping that was true. Folks didn't take kindly to non-English speakers, and Tex was already at a disadvantage with his deep tan and dark eyes. If his hair wasn't so short and curly, people might assume he was an Indian hoping to sabotage their party, and it wouldn't do for Texas to be outcast before their first day on the trail.

Tex looked over at him, worrying at his lip, "Ya sure?" He asked. At America's nod he blew out a gust of air between his lips, "Well, as long as no one hears me speaking Spanish again, I'll be fine." He shook his head, and seemed to gather himself with the small motion, "Anyway, I got something to show you!" He said, a grin on his face. He pulled Alfred to where his belongings had been haphazardly thrown in their wagon, rummaging around before pulling out a strangely shaped case. Texas held it up to him before clicking it open and pulling out a very circular guitar, "It's called a banjo! I saw it used in a traveling minstrel show and just had to get one!" He showed off the instrument to Alfred, turning it slowly before strumming it quietly, "They even took my money for it! No US coins needed!"

The morning sun's light broke through the thin curtains, forcing Alfred awake. Tex was fast asleep next to him, dead to the world and sawing logs trying to look the part, Alfred rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and moved to get up. The day was wasting away and he wanted to get his chores out of the way before it got too hot to deal with. He pulled on his last clean shirt and pants, snapping his suspenders into place, before gathering every dirty item in their room and heading out the door. As he stood near the door, Alfred debated shaking Tex awake, but decided against it. Tex was allowed to sleep in every once in a while. Besides, America had taken almost every piece of clothing he had. It wouldn't do for Texas to run around indecent while Alfred took his sweet time at the nearby river.

As he was making his way through town, whistling an old tune he couldn't quite place, a man around his and Tex's age came up to him, "Pardon me, but you're the other Jones' brother, right?" He asked.

Alfred stopped, putting the basket of laundry on his hip, "Yes, I'm Tex's brother." He answered, trying to figure out why he was stopped. He really hoped Tex hadn't wandered off to another bar after Alfred fell asleep and gotten into another fight…again. For all his brother's virtues his vices were just overwhelming sometimes, and being an ornery drunk was one of them. America did a quick once over of the man in front of him, no busted lip, no black eye, and he seemed to be walking fine, "Might I ask why you need to know?"

The man blinked at his tone, and Alfred cursed himself for letting his annoyance slip, "Oh, well Tex was just so entertaining last night at the bar, we thought he might want to share his skills where the whole town can enjoy." The man said, a smile on his face. Alfred glanced behind him, noting the use of 'we', and saw a group of young people gathered just up the way. "There's going to be a dance down at the town hall later this evening. If Tex is willing, Charles said he'd be fine with Tex stepping in for him."

Alfred stopped at that and the feeling from last night bubbled up in his chest again, though, the urge to hit something was new, "Oh. Uh…Tex is still sleeping right now, but when he gets up I'll ask him about it." He said quietly, as his heart seemed to settle in his stomach.

The man grinned, his green eyes lighting up, "That's great! Just tell him to come find Jim when he has his answer." The man, Jim, began jogging away, back to his friends, "Oh, and by the way," He shouted over his shoulder, "the dance is at seven. So if he's playing he needs to get there at five so we can practice!" Jim met up with his group, and by the way they all seemed to rejoice at Alfred's vague answer, he could tell they were counting on Tex's answer being yes.

Al took a calming breath, trying to shake off whatever was wrong with him, and made his way to the river. It would be crowded by now, no doubt, but Alfred didn't particularly mind. Most of the women ignored him when he was doing laundry, more interested in town gossip than the random soldier that blew into town a few nights ago.

As he methodically washed his and Tex's clothes, his mind drifted back to the memory he'd been dreaming of last night. He wasn't usually the most melancholic person, rarely dwelling on the past and choosing to look ahead to the future and enjoy the present as best he could. Besides, those first few weeks on the Trail weren't the best. Both Al and Tex butt heads over trivial matters, mostly because Alfred had become a jealous wreck five days in and had begun baiting Texas into verbal spars they both knew he would lose.

"YOU KNOW AL, IF I'D A KNOWN THAT TRAVELING WITH YOU WAS WORSE THAN TRAVELING WITH AZURA ON HER BAD DAYS I WOULDN'T HAVE AGREED TO COMING ALONG!" Tex shouted, his face pinched in anger and steps thundering behind Alfred, who was leading them both into the woods where they wouldn't annoy the rest of the procession. It had been a tough couple of weeks, filled with a growing tenseness that neither nations were used to when it came to the other's company.

Alfred grumbled under his breath, muttering about how sorry he felt for Mexico that she even had to share a border with Tex in the first place. Texas, of course, heard simply because Alfred wasn't trying to go unheard. His brother let out a growl before speeding up, and pulling to a stop in front of Alfred, "I've just about had it, Al. I don't know what's making you act like the little prince you seem to think you are, but it's gotta stop!" He hissed, and America could see the image of Spain in his expression, in the way he tried to loom over Alfred.

America took a deep breath, feeling oily vindictiveness spread through him at the thought. There wasn't anything Tex hated more than being compared to his father, and usually Al would never insinuate any similarities between them, but today, Al was going to be hit hard and fast, and in a place that would hurt Texas more than a simple beating would. Alfred looked up at Tex, and let a cruel smile slide across his face, "Huh, I can see it."

"See what, gilipollas?" Tex sneered.

"You do look like Spain." Alfred spit out, "Acting like you own the place, bossing everyone around and forcing them to treat you like some god." Tex's face dropped at that, his eyes wide and Alfred could see the hurt flash across his face. It should have made him feel bad, but all it did was serve to egg him on, "Just like your father. I bet he'd be proud of you, huh? Proud that you're taking advantage of all these people. Acting like the conquistador you really are." He finished, knowing he'd won when Tex's entire body slumped like he'd been dealt a physical blow.

As the adrenaline from the fight wore off, and his triumph over Tex slowly soured, Al took stock of himself. Breathing hard and filled with shaking rage, America wondered to himself why, exactly, he was acting the way he was. Well, he knew why he so desperately wanted to hurt his brother, but it wasn't for a noble reason at all. It was petty and stupid, but Texas was making him so angry by just existing and he couldn't get away from him. And every night the problem just seemed to get worse, and worse, and soon enough Alfred knew that the party would no longer need him.

The party already liked Texas more than they liked Alfred, what happens when Texas, charming and suave, finally pushes America into obsoletion? He already shouldered the majority of Alfred's chores, already slotted himself into multiple social circles, and now he was essential in their party's nightly music making! Learning instrument after instrument faster than Alfred thought possible from someone with Tex's attention span. Quickly making his way through the entire selection of instruments, even the obscure ones like the serpent or Indian flute! The only one left was…the fiddle.

And if Tex learned the fiddle, then Alfred had nothing to offer, and if he had nothing to offer then he didn't deserve to be there.

Al inhaled sharply. Was he really causing all this grief because he didn't feel special in comparison to Texas? Was he so insecure he couldn't handle not being in the spotlight for ten seconds? Sickening embarrassment shocked through Alfred's veins, this wasn't how a hero acted. He knew that! Heroes shared the glory with their men in arms, valuing the journey over the praise they garnered, and here he was throwing cruel words at his brother over a fiddle!

America looked back up at Texas, who was still looking down at the ground with shaking hands, "Tex.." He breathed out, stepping closer to his brother and steeling himself to do some intense begging for forgiveness. Once he was within arms reach, Alfred moved to put his hand on Tex's shoulder, aiming to offer comfort against his own harsh words, but Texas slapped his arm away before it could land.

"Al," Texas whispered, still refusing to look at him, "¡no vuelvas a decirme eso! No soy como Papi. ¡Prefiero morir que ser como él!" He bit out, snatching Al's shirt front, stopping his quiet retreat, "Retíralo." Tex's face snapped up to his and Alfred suddenly understood why people compared Spains' anger to a bull's, and why Mexico snidely remarked once how Texas had inherited their father's penchant for anger, "¡RETÍRALO!" Tex snarled before winding back and punching Alfred in the mouth with all the power his newfound status afforded him.

Alfred winced at the phantom impact. He'd lost a good two or three teeth to that punch alone and ended the fight with a shattered cheek and some bruised ribs. Tex came out with a broken nose and two black eyes, nevermind both of their bruised knuckles. By the time they'd finished wailing on each other it was near dark and they could hear the faint rumblings of a search party forming. It had been embarrassing, forcing themselves to limp back to their shared wagon to lick their wounds in angry silence.

Luckily for Alfred though, Tex was as quick to forgive and move on from a fight as Mattie was to devour a plate of pancakes. The awkward conversation Tex forced on both of them, ending with Alfred quietly expressing his irrational fear of Tex taking his place as the resident fiddler speeding up their making up. Tex eventually laughed off his concerns and stated that Alfred was always going to be a better violinist than he, simply because Texas didn't have any interest in playing. Saying, 'Why would I wanna learn the fiddle? I got you for that.' Of course, he'd made America do a lot of his chores and some major pleading to go back to the way they were, but within a few days the Jones boys were back to being thick as thieves.

Once the laundry was wrung out and Alfred had begged a clothesline off of one of the older women, America made his way back to the hotel. It was nearing midday by then, and Texas needed to be waking soon if he wanted to finish his own chores before five. The horses needed to be fed and cleaned, a weekly task Tex was more than happy to take on if he didn't have to worry about grocery shopping. With the clothes hung out to dry Alfred braced himself to rouse ol' Tornado Tex from the dead. Hopefully the extra couple hours of sleep would stave off the worst of Tex's morning attitude.

Texas was still snoring away when he entered their room, completely sprawled out and with half of the covers sliding off the bed. Alfred gently shook his shoulder, trying to keep as far away from hitting distance as possible. Tex had a bad habit of shooting first and asking questions later, especially after a deployment. Shell shock was one heck of an adrenaline burst and both nations had had their fair share of 3 AM sucker punches in the past.

After a few minutes of increasingly violent shaking, Tex finally cracked an eye open, "Huh…was'appening…?" He croaked, looking blearily around before sitting up slowly, "Time is it?"

"Near eleven thirty."

Tex pulled off a big stretch, popping severe vertebrae in his back and neck before rubbing at his left eye, "You let me sleep through breakfast?" He asked around a yawn.

Alfred smirked, Texas was never one to miss a meal when possible, "We didn't have enough clean clothes to get breakfast, dummy. I made an early trip to the nearby river to wash our clothes."

Texas blinked, "Oh. Right, I forgot you said something about that last night."

"Anyway, the clothes are hanging right now. Should be done by the time you're finished cleaning up." Alfred said, taking in the scruffy beard that was trying to form on Tex's face.

Texas groaned, flopping back on the bed, "Ugh, I wish beads would just come back in style already." He said, pulling a hand down his face, "It's so much work to shave it everyday."

America closed his eyes, preparing himself for another rant about how time consuming and tedious being clean shaven was and how Tex longed for the good old days when he could have a giant mountain beard, when people would see him as rugged and handsome not dirty and poor. Recently, they'd heard of these new 'disposable' razors last time they were out East. Maybe this new invention would stop Tex's near daily complaints against the hassle of shaving.

"Ugh, whatever," Tex muttered, pulling himself up and out of bed, "I'm not gonna annoy you with my woes, Hairless Wonder." And with that he moved into the bathroom.

Alfred shook his head, not his fault clean-shaven was always fashionable. He was about to leave again, not wanting to listen to Tex sing dirty songs to himself while he washed off last night's lingering hangover, when he remembered Jim. The easy smile on his face dropped, and America thought about just not telling Tex at all, but he knew Texas could sniff out a dance like a bloodhound sniffed out rabbits.

Well, no use delaying the inevitable, "Hey, Tex," He called, stopping in the doorframe, "someone asked me about you earlier today."

Texas' eyes flickered over to him, his beard half-gone and face dripping with water, "Oh yeah? I didn't hurt 'em too bad, did I?" He snickered.

"No, no, it was Jim. He asked if you wanted to play the piano at the dance later tonight." Alfred said, trying not to sound as upset as he was.

"Really!?" Tex said, a bright smile on his face, "Well, sure! When're they meeting up?"

Alfred took a breath, they'd be out of this town soon and then Jim and all the others would fade from Tex's memory like always, "He said five; so you can practice. The dance is at seven, so I'll see you then?" He asked quietly.

Tex glanced at him for a second before grabbing the towel and wiping his face, "Yeah, I'll see you then, Al." He turned to grab the only clean pair of pants he had left, "Oh, and don't wait up for me at lunch then. I'll grab something quick to eat before heading out to the stables." Alfred nodded, feeling more and more disheartened the longer the conversation went on.

With that out of the way, and Tex's busy schedule set Alfred decided to busy himself with the last of his chores and then perhaps he'd play with some of the children once school let out. They always had the best and newest games to play. And, if that failed, he'd just bought a new dime novel and was itching to start on it. It was one of the Buffalo Bill stories he'd missed out on while in the Philippines, "Buffalo Bills Deadliest Deal; or, The Doomed Desperados of Satan's Mine".

Slowly the hours passed, Tex seemingly disappearing and Alfred spending the majority of his time dirtying his newly clean clothes. As five o'clock rolled around Alfred despondent bought himself from dinner before shuffling off to eat it in the corner of the tavern. Tex would be practicing right now, which means that Alfred was going to have to brave the crowds alone tonight. Once he was finished, he shuffled off back to their room and began reading. It was a gripping tale and Alfred found himself lost in the world of Buffalo Bill. So lost in face that when the clock chimed seven he almost didn't notice.

Alfred's heart dropped at the time, 'Great just great…' he thought to himself as he scrambled around to find something decent to wear. He was late and now Tex would think he was getting stood up by his brother, which would serve him right, if Al didn't know that Tex was completely unaware of his newly revived jealousy. He frantically scrambled to pull on his nice vest and pull a comb through his ratty hair, before shooting out the door and to the center of town.

By the time he got there, the dance was in full swing, music playing loudly throughout the hall and people of every age mingling and having fun. Alfred almost tripped over one of his playmates from earlier that day in his haste to get in and seem like he'd been there the whole time. He threw a quick apology over his shoulder, more directed to his glaring mother than the child himself, before finally squeezing into the building.

Alfred leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath, when he saw Tex. Surrounded by people and shining in the spotlight, America felt a small smile break out. It was good to see Texas finally do something with all those decades of practice he had on the keys, even if it meant that Alfred was left alone in the dark. As the song came to an end, Tex finally looked up from the piano, and spotted Al.

Alfred waved at him, expecting that to be the extent of their interaction for the night, but Tex surprised him by getting up and walking towards him, "Al! I was wondering when you'd get here!" He said over the crowd.

America let out an embarrassed chuckle, "Oh, yeah, I-I kind of got caught up in my book."

Tex let out a loud laugh, "I shoulda known! You're such a bookworm sometimes." Behind him Alfred could see Jim and the rest of the musicians trying to get Tex's attention. He pointed at them, and when Tex looked over his shoulder he held out his hand, "Hey Al, you know Dick right?" He asked.

Alfred squinted his eyes, trying to figure out which 'Dick' Texas was referring too, "Probably, why?"

Texas leaned in close, cupping his hand around his mouth, and shiftily peering around for eavesdroppers, "Well, Dick over there," He nodded to the black haired man near the back of the band, "fancies Dottie in the corner," Alfred's eyes flitted over to a demure looking red-headed woman by herself, "and me and the boys were hoping you would be willing to step in for Dick since he's finally gotten up the courage to ask her to dance."

Alfred blinked, "Uh, I don't know what songs you're playing." He said hesitantly, trying to ignore the not-so-subtle pleading gestures Dick's friends were throwing at him.

"Al. Would I ask you to play the fiddle if I hadn't already told them what songs you were best at?"

America swallowed, "No, but is it a fiddle or violin?" He asked, "I don't have mine on me, and you know it's strange playing someone else's instrument. 'Specially a violin!" Alfred whispered, "Feels like a betrayal." He added.

Texas rolled his eyes, "I grabbed yours on the way here, don't worry now are you playing or not?"

"Uhm…"

A huff left Tex's mouth, "Come on, Al." He said, grabbing Alfred's shoulders and forcing him to look Texas in the eyes, "I know you been lonely, and I know it's 'cause I been leaving you to play the piano. And I'm sorry." Tex admitted, "But I been meaning to invite you to play with me for a while now, so please!"

Relief bloomed in Alfred's heart, Texas hadn't forgotten him after all, "You mean that?" He asked.

Texas' face scrunched up in irritation, "'Course I mean it! You're the only person I ever really want to perform with!"

Alfred let out a giggle, and agreed, feeling more like himself than he had in days. Jim and the rest of the band yelled out in happiness, jumping up and down, when Tex triumphantly turned back to them with a thumbs up. Alfred was pulled towards the old stage, and presented with his trusty violin. He watched in amusement as Tex and Jim pushed Dick towards where Dottie stood, tuning his violin while Dick stuttered out the dreaded question. When Dottie, who seemed to have been waiting for him to make a move, frantically nodded in response, before holding out her hand for him to take, Alfred got several thumps on the back in thanks for 'making it possible'.

The rest of the night was spent playing songs both old and new, with Tex and America eventually outclassing the rest of the band and garnering more than a few looks of astonishment from the older generation. Especially when Tex broke out the banjo he'd been hiding under the piano bench and goaded America into a battle of the strings. Soon enough Alfred and Tex were getting song requests and the rest of the band took the lull to get something to drink or romance their own girls. By the end of it all, when Dick and Dorothy were out watching the stars and Jim's band had all left, the Jones brothers were still there, playing to an empty crowd, and loving every minute of it.