A/N: A steam-punk AU I wrote for a prompt on comment_fic. The prompt was UK/US- A Victorian gentleman and his cowboy. I got a little away from that though. Ah well!

A gust of steam shot up from a hole in the cobblestone street, blowing a yellowed newspaper up into the night. There was a persistent dripping noise coming from a darkened corner, but that wasn't Arthur's main concern. All of his attention was on the strange glow coming from around the corner. Extinguishing the gas lantern in his hand, Arthur pulled down his gas mask, careful not to jostle the charcoal filters. It was a bit of a relic, with eyeholes made of thick plates of glass that had to be constantly cleaned, but it had belonged to his father, bless his soul. Taking caution to not make any noise, Arthur ducked into the limited shadows of the alley. A rusted iron gate blocked off his pursuit of the glow, but as he approached it, Arthur noticed that it had been left slightly ajar. Praying that it wouldn't make a sound, Arthur gently pushed at it with one gloved hand. A screech rang through the night and Arthur hurriedly slipped though. Oddly, no one came running.

Thanking his luck, Arthur continued to walk. The cobblestone alley soon ran out, leaving Arthur's boots to sink into wet mire. Steeling himself for the inevitable mess on his third favorite suit, Arthur turned with the barely-there path. The lantern fell from his hand as he slowly pulled the gas mask off. The enormous field before him was covered in people and floating machines. They resembled giant balloons with metal carriages attached underneath. Some were larger than others, but all were shades of grey, green or brown with odd symbols stamped on their sides. Remembering to breath, Arthur slowly walked to the nearest person. His back was towards Arthur, but it was evident that he was in charge of one of the floating things by the way he barked orders at a crew of three men. "Excuse me sir? What would this be?"

The man turned around quickly, and Arthur found himself regretting his mad idea to poke around. He was a tall, handsome man with golden blond hair and an eye patch covering one blue eye. "Well, I don't recall the last time I was called sir." He had a strong accent that Arthur couldn't place. It certainly didn't sound very British. "This here's The Amelia, the finest zeppelin in the United States of America!" That would explain the accent, Arthur realized. "Can I help you? Looking for a ride? No? Something else?"

Arthur shook his head, just about ready to leave the slightly odd man. "I think I'm just going to head down that way." The man tossed his head back and laugh, his cowlick bobbing.

"I don't think you'll be wanting to do that. There are some unsavory folk down there." Arthur pursed his lips and adjusted his pocket watch chain.

"And I suppose I'm to believe that you're a perfect gentleman," he retorted. The man smirked, pulling one of his hands from the pocket of his long blue coat, and reaching over to grab one of Arthur's in an awkward hand shake. His grip was as firm as his palm was calloused and Arthur could not deny to himself that he found the man rather attractive.

"Captain Alfred F. Jones at your service. A native Texan and a perfect gentleman." One of the crew members snorted and pushed back a strand of reddish brown hair.

"If you consider a sky pirate a gentleman." Wrenching his hand away from Alfred's, Arthur glared at the sheepish man.

"I prefer the term sky cowboy. Or sky ranger. We're not really a pirate zeppelin, per say-"

"Yes we are."

"Silence Romano! Hey, where are you going?"

Arthur shook his head and continued to walk away in the direction of the other floating zeppelins. "As an officer of the British police force, I cannot condone a sky pirate ship. However, I suppose I just happened to miss The Amelia."

Arthur could hear the grin in Alfred's replying shout. "I'll keep it in mind officer! Look for The Amelia in the future-the ship you never saw."

The air in Boston was thick with steam and smog, prompting Arthur to keep his gas mask on the majority of the time. A young girl in a tattered dress accosted him in the entry way of the pub, begging for a few coppers. One look at her and Arthur could tell that she was an opium addict, some nasty substance that had been brought from the Far East. He neatly sidestepped her and made his way into the warm and clean interior of the pub. He quickly stripped himself of his gas mask and stashed it in his coat pocket. A knot of men sat at the left end of the bar, roaring with laughter and noise. Arthur attempted to sit as far away as possible, but a trio of three men pounding shots of some dark liquid sent him too close for comfort.

"One glass of ale please ma'am." The barkeep nodded and brushed a hank of hair off her face, revealing a golden apparatus that covered the entire left side of her head. Arthur knew that he should not stare at it, but the small clicks and movements that the face mask made were mesmerizing. Within a minute, a glass of amber brown liquid was place in front of him, spilling slightly on the discolored wood.

Arthur nodded his thanks and took a large gulp of his drink. A raucous shout came from the group of men, drawing Arthur's attention. A long haired man in a feathered hat said something Arthur couldn't make out, but judging from the accompanying gesture, it was rather inappropriate. A lanky man dressed in a puffy white shirt and brown britches caught his wandering eyes and smiled widely. "If it's not my favorite British officer!" Captain Alfred Jones shoved his way through the gathered men and sat on the wooden chair next to Arthur. He casually waved a hand at the other men, who turned back to their loud discussion.

"Well, well, well. What would a proper gentleman like you be doing in this neck of the woods?" Alfred said, one eyebrow cocked.

Downing more of his drink, Arthur shifted to face him. "Business. Apparently one of the best makers of steam-powered war machines resides in this area. Bloody French are getting uppity." Alfred nodded and took a sip of Arthur's ale.

"You know, you never did tell me your name, Mr. British officer."

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. Hey, get your grubby hands off my ale." Ignoring him, Alfred finished off his ale in one swift swig. He then reached into a small bag attached to his belt and placed a few coins down. Grabbing Arthur's hand, he pulled him towards the door.

"See you later lads! Come on Artie, let me show you something." Arthur barely had time to protest the massacring of his name before Alfred was tugging him through twisting alleys. It was rather nice holding hands with Alfred, Arthur decided, even if his arm did feel like it was about to be ripped from its socket. They ended up in a ship yard similar to the giant field Arthur had stumbled on a few years prior. Five zeppelins floated above the ground, tethered by thick leather straps. Alfred led him over to a dull green one with a coppery colored hull and straps of the same color crisscrossing the giant balloon like part. Yanking down a sturdy rope ladder, Alfred gestured dramatically.

Arthur hesitated at first, but when Alfred climbed up ahead of him, he quickly followed suit. "Welcome to The Amelia, the strongest, fastest and deadliest zeppelin in all of America." Arthur had to admit, it was impressive. They had clearly climbed up into the navigation quarters, which gleamed with dark wood and silver colored fixtures. Buttons, switches and levers surrounded a large ship's wheel placed in front of the largest windows Arthur had ever seen. "We're going over to England soon Artie. You should stay. Free of charge. No promise you won't be put to work though."

Arthur looked away from Alfred's pleading face. He had gotten the man needed to agree to help produce war machines, so he was free to go home any time he liked. "Alright Captain Jones. I guess you'll have a chance to show me how amazing The Amelia is."

The Amelia had been in the air for three days, and Arthur had finally gotten his footing. The wind currents over the Atlantic caused the zeppelin to occasionally go into random spins and turns. "Ah Arthur! Romano said he had seen you lurking about the observation deck." Alfred appeared behind Arthur on the iron-wrought bridge between the cargo hold and an extra cabin. It was called the observation deck merely because it offered the best view of the world outside the zeppelin. The wind was biting though, and Alfred's green cloak bellowed out dramatically behind him.

"May I kiss you?" Arthur nearly choked on the very air he was breathing and turned to look disbelievingly at Alfred, gripping the railing with one hand.

"Excuse me? I may not have responded at first, but there is no need for…that!" Alfred didn't look apologetic in the slightest. If anything, he looked pleased.

"I meant every word. I must confess, I find you attractive. I know you think I'm handsome." As Arthur began to sputter in denial, Alfred smiled. "I've seen you staring."

"But, I mean, relationships between men are forbidden by society." Alfred's smile grew wider, and he placed a hand on top of Arthur's.

"Ah, but we're not in society, are we? We're on The Amelia."

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