A/N: Well the poll has been up forever by this point in time and it's pretty obvious you all want an explanation for what happened to "Alfred" America after Past!England left. Though I have to say this will probably not be very satisfying which is why I wanted to leave it out but I'm a woman of my word. Also, this may be short. OTL So here we go.

**NOTE** For those who do not know, this is not a continuation of the last chapter of "Pirate Ages". This is the original timeline that occurred that is completely separate from the one Pirate England went on to live (oh god, I'm confusing myself now). Bloody hell, just read the chapter and hopefully you'll grasp it. XD; OTL


It had been a while since the younger England had gone home and America found himself back in his capital gazing at paperwork and sighing for the third time in the past fifteen minutes. It was obvious by his attitude that he was disheartened, but really who wouldn't be after all that had happened? He had gained and lost his love (and had been rejected) all in about a week. The first few months in the past and on that ship with the pirates didn't count of course.

His head lulled back and he sat back in his chair, leaning back on the back two legs to gaze out through the sunroof that he had placed in his office where he worked. He liked to see the stars on the days he stayed late, after all. The window was somewhat frosted over with ice and the edges of snow could be seen on the roof through the window. As he watched more snow fell. A frown found its way to his face and he was glad to have his vintage (haha, what a joke considering he'd had it when it was brand new –made especially for him) World War II bomber jacket with him. He wondered what he should do about dinner considering he didn't want to have to go out in this mess. He would need to cook at home. Maybe he'll roast marshmallows in his fireplace.

His eyes closed his eyes and the immediate image of Arthur filled his mind underneath the Christmas lights. His green eyes were glowing with hopeless pity and anger at his older self as he had looked at America. He had been gorgeous despite the bitterness of the situation. America had wished that they had parted on better terms. He wondered what had happened to England now that Arthur was back in the past. There were a number of possibilities that America had considered from various sci-fi movies that he had watched over the decades and stories he had read. Perhaps the England from this time had been altered because the past England was gone and the shockwaves of his return had altered this future. But then where was England and why hadn't he visited him at all? After all, Arthur promised to remember him and had asked him not to lose hope. No, America doubt that such a future had occurred. Then there was the possibility that because America had altered the timeline, a completely new timeline had occurred and that was where the younger England had grown into. Maybe somewhere, in some time, another America was receiving all of Arthur's love. The thought made America's heart burn with envy and he quickly opened his eyes in order to drop such a thought from his mind.

His eyes jumped to the phone sitting on his desk and he willed England for him to call him. He wanted to hear his voice again. He could still remember the sensations of holding England in his arms as they'd had sex for the first time (not that England knew that America knew). Both Englands had thought that they could fool America by switching places but America could always tell who his lovers were. Even if they were identical twins he would never mistake them. …I want to talk to him. America's head thumped against his desk a little too painfully and a few of his papers floated off and onto the ground. He had grown used to England's presence all over again just like when he was younger. He would become used to England's heat and his voice and his cooking (thank god he had grown accustomed to that for the most part) and his smiles and their bickering to the point that when England left America felt like a large part of his life was suddenly gone. Only in this case America doubted England would be returning anytime soon bearing gifts for him in apology for being gone for so long. America doubted that he would ever see England again unless it was for work.

I don't want that. He selfishly thought and his fingers curled into fists. He wanted England back to talk to and harass, even if it meant that they would just be friends. He had lasted this many years hiding his love, so why couldn't he now? But it wasn't that simple. England had run from him. America had let him slip from his grip. Hell, he hadn't even tried to stop him. England didn't love him in that way. He had been completely and utterly rejected. He'd had his one chance; it would be selfish to ask for more. But then again, America had always been a selfish country.


Christmas had America walking with many other Yankees around the streets of New York City. The glamorous city was sparkling and dazzling with all of its lights and decorations and various music playing. He himself had just come from a play he had seen many times over the years but could never seem to bring his self not to see whenever it was in town. He had seen many different actors and actresses playing the parts. Still the storyline didn't bore him no matter who died at what scene and what magical musical number was sung.

The flow of the crowd swept the lax America down effortlessly towards the large tree in the middle of the city. In the distance he could spot the Statue of Liberty glowing and felt a grin on his face. He loved Christmas time. He could withstand the cold of winter if it meant he could see these sights and watch the happy people around him merrily meet and merrily part with many other strangers. He watched as a family of three passed by him –a mother, father, and their young son- giggling about something unknown to the nation. His eyes softened and a slight sting of his heart had him turning away before he became saddened. His people were beautiful but he couldn't have what he wished for. He thought about visiting Molassia later and getting drunk.

He found himself leaving the crowd and traveling the backstreets towards where he had parked his car in order to take a flight across the country. To his slight surprise he found two drunks stumbling along together giggling and talking loudly in foreign accents that America couldn't make out from how far he was. America shook his head with a chuckle as he spotted that the people were generally unclothed. They would probably be arrested or get hypothermia or both.

"Hey!" He called out to them deciding to do his Christmas good and give them a heads up about how they were acting. The drunks turned to him and America stopped dead as he recognized two very familiar blondes that had him almost groaning at their stupidity.

"America!" France called cheerfully, naked sans a rose over his important parts and cat ears and a tail. "America, how great to see you here!" The man slurred and skipped towards him with surprising speed to wrap an arm around the taller nation's shoulders.

"You're in my country, bro. New York City, nonetheless." America laughed.

"Is that where we are?" England slurred as he looked around him with –no doubt- blurry eyes as he stumbled his way over to America and France. He was dressed in that absurd waiter's outfit that looked great on him but that America had seen on him far too many times to have any kind of effect on the younger nation. After all, America had seen England dressed in a (sexy, short, pink, tight) nurse's outfit.

"Yeah." America hadn't expected his next encounter with the British nation to be like this. At least the awkwardness (at least from England's part) was missing and America could just bat away his own nervousness effortlessly.

"Join us! Christmas is only starting after all!" France called and his cold hands slipped under America's jacket and shirt to try to push them up. America stiffened at the cold hands but otherwise didn't really care about the groping and just grabbed France's arms.

"No, man. I did that last year and got sick for, like, a week. I'm not up for it tonight." Streaking last year had been fun and all, but he didn't plan on doing it again this year. He pulled France's hands out right as England whacked the French nation upside the head angrily. France cried out and turned to him cursing at him in his native language that America caught bits and pieces of considering the words were slurred and jumbled.

"Dun' touch my 'murica like that!" England bumbled and tilted forward to wrap his arms around America's neck and give him a sloppy and possessive kiss on the lips. America immediately pulled away and wiped his mouth of the slobbery and alcoholic kiss, making a face at it. England ignored him and glared at France. "He's already mine, see? Nobody but me touches him!"

"Ah, ah, always so possessive!" France sighed and shook his head good-naturedly. America pushed away from England with a frown on his face not liking that he was being claimed in such a misunderstanding way.

"Hey, don't just kiss me old man. I ain't yours."

"Eh?" England raised a large eyebrow at him. "I had assumed so considering all of that shit." He waved aimlessly in a random direction but America knew what he was referring to.

"You're an idiot." America said and turned away from the old men. "I'm not bailing you out when you two get arrested for indecent exposure." He stuffed his hands into his jacket's pockets walked off quickly before he had to deal with them anymore. He had already accepted his rejection of England and the nation was quite obviously not in a right state of mind (Is he ever? America thought humorously) so he really did not need to cause any more misunderstandings between them. No doubt England would blame him for "seducing him" or some bullshit when he sobered up. He really didn't need that.


New Year's Evening had America sitting on the balcony of his New York apartment staring out over Time's Square waiting for the ball to drop. The whole reason why he had bought such an expensive apartment (many of his houses across the states didn't cost this much or were as nice) was specifically so he could have this view. He was wrapped up nicely in a blanket over top of his jacket and drinking a cup of hot cocoa with some vodka in it. It tasted quite good, especially with some cinnamon in it. He could barely taste the alcohol but he knew how much was in it. He was on his third but he wasn't drunk yet. His mind was very barely swimming.

It was ten minutes until midnight and he was looking forward to spending the coming of the next year alone. What bullshit. America thought and finished off his cup and sighed a heated air cloud into the cold air. Of course he wasn't happy in the least to be alone. He should've gone to a party and hooked up with someone. At least he wouldn't be alone for the New Year. But he had decided to stay home like an idiot and drink himself into tomorrow. He got up and walked inside to quickly prepare his fourth cup of alcohol in the kitchen. As the microwave heated his drink he pulled out a popper and threw it at the ground to entertain his self with the popping of it when he heard his front door open. Shocked, he turned around to see England peeking in timidly, like a child caught stealing a cookie in the night.

"…England?" America asked as the English nation tried to close the door and pretend that he had never opened it. The man stopped and considered his self for a moment before he opened the door all of the way and reluctantly came in, sheepish. "What are you doing here? And how'd you get in?" He had been sure he had locked his door.

England kept his eyes adverted but held up a key. "I saw where you hide the spare." America would have to hide it somewhere else. Fuck.

"That doesn't explain why you're here." America could feel his body was stiff with his own anxiety over meeting England.

England cleared his throat and reluctantly pulled out a bag containing a gift. "You left on Christmas before I could give it to you." He explained.

"What?" America walked over and took the gift, flabbergasted. "Where the hell were you keeping this that night?"

England looked put off and glared at him. "I didn't have to get you a Christmas gift, you ungrateful git! It was just a…just a thank you gift for letting me stay here for a week!" America didn't believe him. Of course he was lying.

"Why didn't you come earlier to drop this off, then? It's already the thirty-first."

"Because I have better things to do!" England seemed unreasonably ruffled, America thought. After all, he had barely done anything to aggravate him at the moment. From the sound of the cheering from outside, the ball was about to drop soon.

"Okay, then you can go." America missed England's hurt look as he turned around to go put the present down in order to go outside for the countdown. England's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, halting him.

"Do you…hate me that much for what I did?" He asked in a quiet voice.

America was about to say no –after all, he still didn't hate him and never did- but instead bitter words escaped his lips surprising even him, "I should be the one asking you that since you ran away from me. But considering you pretty much already confirmed that, I guess you don't have to."

"America-"

America turned to him with a wounded face. England stared at him. "Can't we just stop this…weirdness? We both already know how we feel towards each other. Is there any way we can meet in the middle and be friends or something?" He didn't want to have to lose England. "It can be a resolution or something." He joked painfully smiling. England's arms wrapped around his neck and America found himself with an armful of England and a mouthful of British tongue in a desperate kiss. America grunted in surprise and pushed him away quickly. "Stop doing that! Why do you keep-"

"I don't know." England cut him off, already moving closer to him again. "Whenever I see you I just want to kiss you now. Dammit, I don't know what you did to me. I don't remember a past where this current you was so that past cannot be mine…and yet dammit I still want to kiss you despite you being part of my family!" America kept his mouth closed seeing as the British man was so frustrated. It looked like it had been bothering him for a while. He didn't bother to correct him for the time being. England ran a frustrated hand over a tired-looking face. Outside America could hear the countdown and so he turned and walked out onto the porch as the ball began to drop. A few seconds in England followed him and looked at him silently as America helped count down.

"If you came here for a fuck," America stopped counting in the middle of saying "twenty", "then don't bother. I'm going to try to get over you and move on. There's no point in lingering." No matter what Arthur said. America added mentally. This would be his resolution for the year.

"Don't." England said and as the ball reached the bottom at "one" America captured England's lips in a soft kiss. Cold hands found America's cheeks as the kiss deepened more sensually. It lasted only a few seconds and the excited cheering of the Americans were still ringing out along with much more clamor as the nations pulled away from each other. "I don't hate you, but neither do I know if I love you." England admitted. "But I'm willing to try new things and so…" He didn't finish. America didn't need him to and just laughed at him and took his hand.

"You're never getting away now." He promised.

"Yeah, I had assumed so idiot."


A/N: Okay, this is THE last chapter of this story. I hope this satisfied you guys enough. I left it open-ended enough so that if you want to imagine that they actually decided not to get together then you can considering I lost that a bit. Oh well. XD;