Hey guys, sorry for the super long delay on this. I hit a really bad snag on this chapter and it took me a long time to figure out exactly where I was going/how I was going to go about the chapter. -sighs-

Thanks for your patience, I am unworthy!

After walking a ways (and feeling like a dog on a leash with England holding onto him the whole time) England finally takes Alfred into a pub. He notices it is the one he was brought to when he was first looking for Arthur. He also notices not everyone who is sitting around is happy to see him. They're probably just sore about his laying them down last time. He gives them all cheerful smiles and waves.

England walks past all of them without a glance then shoves him into the back room. "Stay here a moment, poppet."

He closes the door, leaving America to his own devices. He looks around the room. It is a bit messy but not overly so. There's a desk shoved to the back that has papers sticking out of the drawers and is covered in things like inkwells and books. America examines it for a moment but doesn't see anything that particularly catches his attention.

He walks over to the wall and looks over the faded parchment that has the map on it. So much of it is uncharted and different from modern maps. And to think it is a modern map in this time period. His fingers trace over the mysterious lump that constitutes as the New World. So much has yet to happen. A wave of nostalgia washes over him.

What if Alfred says one little sentence? Can he change the outcome of everything? 'Don't always cry because your food sucks.' Or even 'Treat the child a little better.' America quickly withdraws his hand from the map. That is a dangerous way to think. He isn't here to change the past, he's here to... Actually he's not sure why he's here. Because he's fulfilling what has already happened in England's personal time line? Who knows. He's here and it's an adventure.

The door opens again and he glances over as England walks in with two large mugs. He sets one on the table then immediately takes a long drink from the other. America walks over and takes the other glass. He must remember to watch how much he consumes. The last thing he needs is a repeat of last time.

Taking a seat, America has a sip before putting it aside. England drums his fingers over the table as he studies the other blond then takes another drink. "Tell me, Alfred. What am I to make of you? You will not tell me where you are from. You claim not to be a spy but you disappear into thin air then reappear from nowhere. I know not who you are or what your purpose is."

There's a pause and America finally decides some sort of response is desired. "Well isn't it the mystery that makes me so darn interesting?"

Or alluring, as England had put it.

England slowly raises one of those majestically thick eyebrows of his. "Indeed. Are you saying I am better off not knowing anything?"

When England says it like that it almost seems like a threat. "Nah, there's uh, just nothing that interesting about me." As if, he's one of the most interesting people ever. "I'm sure you would be bored."

England almost snorts and leans his chin on one hand. Somehow that seems highly unlikely. After a moment he reaches out across the table. "Give me your hand."

What, is he going to read his palm and see into his past? "Why?"

"Just give it to me." England's tone comes off sharper and America warily offers one hand. England turns it so the palm is facing up and uncurls his fingers. He brushes a thumb over the skin, running it up one of his fingers and lightly rubbing the tip. "I would say that you come from a well off family from the state of your health, yet your hands have callouses. Perhaps you have fallen in status or else you were either made to work or have a physical hobby."

England glances up at America, who is watching him curiously. "I also have my doubts of your upbringing as your education seems lacking."

"It is not!" Considering his grasp of information that doesn't even exist in this century, he's technically smarter than England right now.

"As you say. Perhaps your education is different than what I would expect due to your being a foreigner. Yet your accent is not quite like anything I have heard. It seems well enough grounded in English but something about it is off." More clumsy and lazy, but lacking the usual sound of a foreign tongue. The inability to pin his accent is perhaps one of the must infuriating things about Alfred. After all, England has heard his fair share of accents.

America merely shrugs and takes another drink. Technically his early education came from England himself but no need to complicate matters further.

Half of England's mouth slides into a smirk. "You truly do not have much to say about yourself, do you? There are other ways I can find out about you."

There's a knock at the door and England releases America's hand with a final caress. "Enter."

One of England's men comes in with a rope and a lit pipe, both of which he hands to England. After taking a puff of the pipe he nods his head. "That is all."

The man gives America a sour look then leaves the room, shutting the door too hard behind him. England frowns then takes another drag off the pipe, exhaling slowly. He sets the rope down on the table. "Tie a knot."

What is this? America is a bit weary of the command but does as he asks. It's not like he's never tied a knot. Does he think he's so stupid he can't even do that? He ties a basic knot and tosses it back onto the table. Mission accomplished.

England looks it at a moment, blowing a smoke ring. "Hm."

"Hm? What's wrong with it?" It's not like there's a science to tying a knot.

"Nothing, really. Is it the best you can do?"

"The best I can do?" America frowns at him. He wonders how England would feel if he were to jump over the table, pin him, then hog tie him. Perhaps he's looking too amused over the idea because England's expression darkens. He finally shrugs. "Maybe not."

Taking the rope back, America unties it and thinks for a moment. Rather than coming up with a solid idea his hands start to move on their own and a few moments later he's showing off a dutch knot. "Better?"

England takes it back and looks it over. He scowls when he realizes it's Dutch. That bastard Holland thinks he's so great he even claims his knots are better. Carefully setting down his pipe, England unfastens the knot and starts to tie something similar with the main distinction being it's not Dutch. He sets it down on the table. "A Bowline knot. I can guarantee that will save your life if you are ever sailing and have to fasten yourself down."

"I bet I can tie something even tighter." America grins mischievously and takes the rope back, untying the knot. It is pretty tight and there's no doubt it would hold under most circumstances. Once it's loose again he ties another simple knot, tightening it as hard as he possibly can. He passes it back to England. "There you go."

England lifts the rope and stares at it, taking a slow drag from the pipe as he inspects it. He blows out then grips the pipe in his teeth as he experimentally runs the rope through his fingers, feeling it out. It will have to be cut if there's any hope of undoing it. England carefully puts the pipe down again. "You are quite strong, aren't you? Impressive."

Damn straight he is. "Thanks!"

England starts twisting the other side of the rope, looping it and coiling it. "Would you like to see my favorite sort of knot?"

America leans in, vaguely curious. "What might that be?"

England gives a final little tug then holds it up, allowing it to hang suggestively. "The hangman's knot."

A noose. Why is that no surprise? "Am I being threatened for tying a tighter knot than you?"

"Not at all," England says. "I am merely sharing an interest in knots with you. Care to try it on for size?"

"I think I'm fine, thanks." Such a creep. America might be a great deal more disturbed if he knew what is running through England's mind; such lovely visions of Alfred all tied up. "Actually, I'll show you something similar that's a personal favorite of mine."

England seems to consider it then hands him the noose, which America disassembles with great haste. With a few tugs he transforms it instead into a lasso. Not one of proper size. There's simply not enough rope. "What do you think of that?"

England looks it over, not quite impressed. "And what is that good for?"

"This? It's great for rounding things up. Like if you're trying to wrangle up a horse."

The boy's use of the word is strange to England but then again he hardly expects him to do anything correctly. Still, it gives him another snippet of information. "You have worked with horses?"

"Ah..." Well, there are horses in this time period. In fact, they are abundant. "Yep, I have! Did it for a long time, actually."

"I see. Interesting. You enjoyed the work?"

"Of course! I love horses. They're great. Some of them can be more loyal than dogs. And I'll tell you what, there is nothing better than riding a horse bareback at a full gallop. Feels like you're flying." He closes his eyes, expression becoming warm with fond memories from when the West had been much less tame. It wasn't the same anymore. Wild horses were sort of over and done with. As were free wide open spaces.

Alfred is given a start when something strokes against his cheek. His eyes flash open and England smirks at him, thumb rubbing lightly over his lower lip before he pulls back. "Like freedom."

"Ah... yeah. Like freedom."

England stands, walking around the table. "Do you work with horses for your own enjoyment or at the employment of another?"

"I've done both." It had been too sad when his own horses had finally died to get more.

America expects England to stop by him or behind him but instead walks past him completely. He turns to follow his progress. England stops in front of the map and glances back at him. "Come over here, Alfred."

America takes another drink and gets up. England remains looking at the map and so America turns his attention to that as well. "Have you ever sailed?"

"Mm? Yeah, I've done that, too." Though he has never been as fond of sailing as other modes of transportation.

"I thought as much. I am quite fond of the sea." England glances at him. "Sometimes your eyes make me think of it on a very clear day. Where have you been?"

America stares at the map. He's been to all of these places at one point or another. Maybe he hasn't sailed to get to them but... He shrugs. "Here and there."

England pushes him closer to the map. "Take a look, Alfred, and tell me where you are from."

America wonders if it will be funny if he says somewhere from mystic Asia. Throw him off a bit. England presses up against his back, fingers caressing Alfred's jaw then tightening on his chin to keep his gaze from wandering. "I just wish to know where you are from. What is the harm in that?"

Maybe it will be funnier if he just goes completely limp and falls back on England. "What's the harm in not knowing?"

There is a quiet 'tsk' from Arthur and then the man is speaking softly against his ear. "Are you from the North?"

America shakes his head and England lightly bites his earlobe. "No? Then perhaps..." He sets a hand on Alfred's stomach and slides it down, letting it rub lightly along the waist of his pants. "Lower?"

America tenses. "Er, technically I guess-"

"Somewhere near that Prussian bastard? Somewhere around the Netherlands? They do get around." England's hand slides into America's pants and he jerks back, body pressing against England's. "Not French I've gathered."

"Cut it out!" America grabs England's arm.

England bites his earlobe more sharply. "I would be happy to stop as soon as you tell me where you are from." He gives America a squeeze, liking the tinge of color that comes to his cheeks. "Now make your choice like a good lad."

"What kind of choice is that?" He starts to drag England's arm away and hastily relaxes his grip as the other gives a forceful squeeze. "And would you stop taking my dick hostage?"

England strokes him lazily, laughing. "Is that what you call it?"

America is about to ask why he wouldn't call it that when England strokes him faster, sending a shiver through him. "Stop it already!"

"Sh, might want to keep your voice down, love. Now, look at the map and say where you are from and, as I said, I will be more than happy to stop. However, if you are going to be stubborn about giving me the information I want then I shall simply take something else." He starts a steady rhythm, smirking as he feels Alfred reacting to the stimulation.

America stares at the map stubbornly, jaw clenched to keep from moaning. England presses a kiss just below his ear. "Perhaps you prefer this, is that it?"

"Don't be so full of yourself," America says, proud of how evenly his voice comes out.

England frowns and gives him a few rapid strokes that he's not expecting. Something between a gasp and a moan escapes America and he puts an arm up beside the map to steady himself. "You seem to be enjoying it, anyway. But if you insist... Tell me. Surely there is somewhere on this map you have called home at some point."

Home? America refocuses on the map, trying to ignore the growing heat in his groin. "...England."

Arthur's hand pauses, though he does not remove it. "England?"

"A long time ago, yes." Once upon a time a certain individual who is actually the biggest ass in the world had been someone he considered 'home'.

England presses his lips to Alfred's neck, looking at the map thoughtfully. It would explain why his English is so solid. If he travels around a lot that might have ruined it. He's worked with horses and has sailed. Arthur had been hoping he would be able to peg him if he saw what kind of knots Alfred knows but he seems to have a wide range of those, too. Exotic but familiar. He can't figure him out.

"Oh? Then I take it the one who has shielded you is family?"

Oh, this is a good time to make something up, actually. He suddenly gets the brilliant idea of using Arthur himself as his 'defender'. How can he find someone if he is that person? "Nah, not quite." That's always a gray area. Even as a child England hadn't wanted him to call him his brother but rather by his country name. Taking his independence had widened the gap. "More like... a long time..." Acquaintance? Friend? "Person whose played a lot of different roles in my life."

"Oh?" Different roles? "So you are close to this person."

"Well, yeah, I guess so. He's protecting me right?" Isn't that sort of a given?

"And just who is 'he'?"

Is England ever taking his hand out of his pants? "I won't give a full name, but interestingly enough he shares the name Arthur with you."

England's eyes narrow. "Is that so? And he cares for you?"

America completely misunderstands what England is implying by that. "Sure. Does stuff for me all the time. Tries to feed me but his cooking is kind of terrible. He took care of me for a while, actually."

So this other man is infatuated with Alfred. Whoever he may be and no matter his position, England can trump anything he can offer Alfred. And he'll make sure the boy knows it. "And do you care for him?"

America blinks and laughs. He has to take care of his ass whenever he gets drunk, that's for sure. "Well not usually, but sometimes I do."

America gasps loudly as England grabs him again then uses his palm to press slow circles against him. Alfred is his, damn it! He absolutely refuses to surrender him until he's had his fill, even if it's to someone who has known Alfred far longer.

"H-hey, you said you would stop!" America bites his lower lip to muffle a moan.

"So long as you are all ready to go, poppet, why not take advantage of the fact?" His tongue trails up Alfred's neck, slowly circling beneath his jaw before he starts to suck.

America flushes. "You are such a-"

England grinds against him, giving his neck a nip. "Is the resistance part of the thrill for you or are you just particularly annoying?"

"Sh-shut up." America starts to breathe harder as England continues to rub and stroke him, his hips eventually betraying him as they try to move in time with his hand. He flinches as his mouth is suddenly invaded by fingers.

England smirks and rests his chin on Alfred's shoulder. "Last time you insisted on special treatment. I take it you want it this time, too?"

Special treatment? It should be common courtesy! Okay, so maybe there are the special occasions where there's simply no time but that's beside the point entirely. Alfred bites his fingers then sucks around them, teeth still digging into the skin. Two can do this playing hostage thing. Running his tongue along the fingers a few time he finally bites down a little harder before releasing them.

England quickly pulls his fingers from the other's mouth. America almost expects to be reprimanded but instead the other lets out a rumbling chuckle. He grinds against Alfred a few times as he loosens his pants then slides them down his hips.

America knows what's coming and tries to relax. This is seriously happening again. And to think he once thought Arthur didn't have a sex drive. He tries very hard to ignore the fact that his heart is pounding in what seems suspiciously like anticipation if he thinks about it too long.

England shushes him as he grunts, the first finger entering. He nuzzles Alfred's neck, sucking softly on his earlobe. "Remember to keep quiet. We hardly want anyone hearing, do we?"

"Oh no, I was quite hoping we would get a regular audience. When they ask what in God's name we're thinking we can tell them it's a play and that if women were allowed to act they wouldn't have to see two men going at it."

"You are a saucy little thing. I am sure God is quite mortified." There is not much conviction in his words but he is impressed at his level of blasphemy.

America can't help but grin, almost laughing until England presses a second finger in. He hisses instead, the amusement going out of him almost completely. That stings. He grits his teeth and leans heavily against the wall as England stretches him without much tenderness. At least he has started stroking him again, which takes his mind off of the discomfort somewhat.

England kisses Alfred's back even though he probably can't feel it through the shirt. Is this the shirt he gave to him? It might very well be the entire outfit he gave him. Such things are hardly interesting in light of what he's about to do and the thought quickly slips away.

It's almost a relief when England finally pulls his fingers out but America knows it will only last a few moments. He feels him struggling behind him, probably to get his own pants down. Sure enough after a small grunt of frustration, there is the sensation of something much more invasive than fingers pressing against him.

There is suddenly hot breath against his ear, and a voice laden with lust fills his head. "Ready, Alfred?"

Before he can even answer Arthur presses in. America gasps and his free hand shoots up, pressing against the wall on the other side of the map to steady himself. His nails scrape against the wood as he tries to adjust to the sudden invasion. England steadies his hip and pulls him closer, kissing his jaw breathily. "Even better than I remember."

He finally pulls his hand from Alfred's pants and grabs his other hip, fingers pressing in to leave more pretty bruises. Giving him barely a moment to get used to it, England begins to rock his hips, pressing his mouth to the crook of the other's neck.

America takes deep breaths, slowly moving his body with England's when he can take it. At least this time he isn't so drunk he can't even control himself. He just hopes that it stops hurting soon. He doesn't have sex often enough to just jump into things like this and he sure as hell doesn't bottom often enough for this kind of treatment.

Gradually the pain burns into a general heat that begins to resemble something like pleasure. America pants softly, pressing back onto England. That seems to excite the sadist, who pulls him down harder as his hips press up. America bites back a groan, wriggling his hips provocatively. This position actually allows a lot more control than he'd had the first time and he thoroughly uses it to his advantage.

Somewhat annoyed at not having full control over the other's actions, England bites his neck. Why won't he stop wiggling around? Admittedly it feels good but it also makes it harder to set the pace. One of his hands migrates from America's hip to cover a hand on the wall. He laces his fingers between Alfred's and squeezes.

Alfred moans softly, only now remembering England's biting obsession. Hopefully he won't have to tell him to stop that shit again. The thought is cut off as England strikes a particularly pleasant spot. He bucks back against him hard. "Ah- Arthur, there, right there!"

"Sh, sh. Hush now, love," England purrs, not even trying to disguise how smug he is. "I will make this feel very good for you, but I want you to do me a little favor."

America makes an annoyed sound as he tries to get England to hit that spot again on his own. "Mm?"

"Look at the map." England presses his cheek to Alfred's. "Come now, look at it."

"I'm looking at it," America says in a distracted, somewhat annoyed tone. It's not like he hasn't been staring at this map for the last gajillion minutes. What more does the bastard want?

England's voice is husky and it's not hard to tell how much the thought turns him on when he murmurs, "Keep your eyes on England."

And England says he's a narcissist! "Fine! I'm looking. My god, the majesty of your land ma-ah-mmm, again, do that again!"

England gladly complies, thrusting roughly into Alfred. To his benefit, America does do his best to keep his focus on the stupid map. More specifically on the drawn lines that form the country who is currently plowing him. It becomes a bit difficult as they begin to blur in his vision.

As much as England loves and wants to mercilessly tease Alfred indefinitely, this is hardly the place. He's already making too much noise and no matter who Arthur is, it is best for him to keep all of his affairs private. His lips ghost across Alfred's cheek as his other hand moves down to stroke him, hard and fast.

America's nails claw against the wood again, England's hand squeezing down on his either in a gesture of shared pleasure or warning. He bites his lip hard as his climax hits, body tensing violently a few times before relaxing. His entire body tingles and his knees feel weak. He has to concentrate to remain standing as England continues to thrust into him.

England hugs Alfred's waist and holds him close as he finishes, rocking with him through the aftershocks. Once they slow to a stop he presses his forehead to his shoulder, nuzzling it lightly. The two stand pressed together, heartbeats slowing to a normal rate. When he feels more steady England finally pulls away, hand sliding up Alfred's arm as he does so. He fixes his pants in silence then walks over to the desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a piece of cloth. America straightens slowly, an ache shooting down his lower back and cutting through the left over glow.

As he hisses England hands him the rag. "You can use this to clean up. Feel free to finish off both cups of ale. It should help with the pain."

"Oh, suddenly you care?" America starts to wipe himself off.

"I am wounded by your accusation that I have never cared." There is not nearly enough offense in England's tone for that to be convincing.

"Excuse me if I hardly got the impression when you threaten to blow my head off at the drop of a hat." America pulls his pants back up and gives the map a dirty look.

"If you are a spy or someone who will cause me unnecessary grief then it is my responsibility. Surely you understand."

"Well I'm not a spy but I will have you know that all the grief I cause you is very necessary." America shoots England a snarky grin despite another twinge of pain.

England picks up his pipe and frowns as he sees it has gone out. He puts it down and regards Alfred dryly. "I will try to keep that in mind next time I am tempted to blow your head off."

"Please do." America makes his way back to the table and downs the rest of his drink and then England's. If he has to walk anywhere, which is pretty likely, he'll want the buzz.

England looks him over, loving his ruffled appearance. He's learned quite a bit about Alfred, but like any truly tantalizing puzzle each answer has only raised more questions. No matter how long it takes he intends to figure him out completely. And perhaps for the sheer sport of it he will attempt to steal the boy's heart from his unknown rival. Yes, that does sound quite fun.

America is, as per usual, utterly oblivious to the intentions of those around him.

Notes:

Knots – The Bowline knot and the Dutch Bowline knot are fairly similar in what they are intended for and capable of. There are minor differences and of course, according to the Dutch, their knot works better. Both are good for securing things and holding even under stress. The noose is of course the noose. The lasso actually has a noose like knot in the fact that it can also tighten, though it is not intended for hanging someone like the noose is. It is/was most common in the West of the U.S. as it was used heavily for wrangling and roping even became a bit of an art form. However it was also used in Mexico for wrangling, in Finland for wrangling Reindeer, and in Ancient Egypt.

Wrangle – England's confusion comes from the fact that America is referring to wrangling in the sense of capturing horses/cows/what have you. Back then it meant something more along the lines of 'to wrestle' which is usually not something you do with rope.

Dick – The early meaning of dick meant fellow or lad. So the joke is that to England, it sounds like America is saying something along the lines of 'Stop taking my lad hostage!' So in other words... it's a penis joke.

Saucy – While I generally use saucy to mean something that is sexy/sexual (I.e. contains saucy content), around that time and quite a ways afterwards it meant something more along the lines of 'impertinent' or 'cheeky'.

AN: America getting sexed up while being forced to stare at a map is much sexier to me than I think it should be. Also both past and present England being jealous of each other and in competition with one another without realizing they're jealous of themselves just cracks me up so much. (Alfred being more than a little oblivious to either of their intentions is the cherry on top).

A useful word origin dictionary to check when words came into use/how they were once used:

www(.)etymonline(.)com/index(.)php