[Hey folks! I know I marked this story as complete, but I wanted to write a Christmas one-shot, and this seemed the best place to add it. I promised you I would tell you how Sealand got Independence, and here it is!]

Act 3.5: Christmas Omake

One year later.

Washington, D.C. One week before Christmas.

It was Wednesday, which meant one thing: movie night with Canada. America prepared several bowls of popcorn and smothered most of them in butter, setting one aside so Canada could cover it with maple syrup instead. America handed a bowl to his brother and then plopped down on the other side of the couch, artfully arranging his own bowls so they were all within arm's reach.

"So Mattie, any requests?" America asked, his mouth already full of delicious, buttery popcorn.

"No horror films," Canada replied quickly, fulfilling his promise to England to keep America away from any and all films that might include references to ghosts. England preferred to not be smothered in the night by a terrified America.

America laughed, amused that his brother was scared of horror films. Of course they didn't bother him in the slightest 'cause he was a hero, but he agreed that a comedy sounded good.

As Canada flipped through the movies, America turned his head and saw Sealand still sitting at the kitchen table reading. England and his younger brother were staying with America during the world conference leading up to the winter holidays this year, earning a number of knowing glances from some countries and invitations for threesomes from France. America feigned blissful ignorance. England threatened bloody vengeance.

Despite England's pleasure that Sealand found himself too busy enjoying America's vast electronic collection to bother interrupting the meeting with his usual antics, England was not amused to discover that Sealand enjoyed spending his time playing video games with Tony and complaining about 'f—ing limeys.'

(America had made a joke about how he loved f—ing limeys, which had earned him a night on the couch, even though it was his home.)

To keep Sealand away from the video games and foul-mouthed extraterrestrials, England decided to assign a reading list. The mountain of plays and books had kept Sealand busy and muttering all day about stupid Elizabethan English.

America shook his head, movie night was meant for movies! As a hero, it was his duty to save Sealand from an overabundance of literary knowledge. America used his arm to leverage himself into a more comfortable position and called, "Hey Peter, come watch a movie with us!"

Sealand frowned and shook his head. "I can't. I've got to finish this stupid play."

America smiled. He liked Sealand—with his big eyebrows and English accent, it was like having a mini-England around. Plus, Sealand hero-worshipped America and there was no easier way to enter America's good graces. The North America nation gestured for the micronation to join them in the living room and promised to show him something cool.

As Sealand approached, an intrigued expression on his face, America pushed a few buttons on his high-tech remote to show off his entire movie collection. America loved movies, so it consisted of nearly every movie ever produced in America, Canada, England, or Japan. He even had some of China and Korea's stuff. (He was still pissed at China for stealing all of his blockbusters, but he mildly forgave the elderly nation after his hilarious mistranslations created the masterpiece of Darth Vader screaming 'Do not want!')

"I'm gonna let you in on a secret that all of the high school kids at my place know. Every Shakespeare play ever written has been turned into a movie. So if you don't wanna read the play, all you gotta do is watch the movie," America explained, clicking through the screens to show Sealand the category of 'movies based on Shakespeare plays for lazy high school students.'

"It's not quite the same as reading the play," Canada said quietly, but no one noticed.

"Wow…" Sealand said with sparkling eyes. He grinned, "So can we watch one with the plot of Twelfth Night?"

"Sure, we can!" America clicked play on 'She's the Man,' clapped to turn off the overhead lights, and handed one of the smaller bowls of popcorn to the micronation. The Christmas lights on the tree provided the only illumination in the room, casting soft glows of red, white, and blue.

Sealand took a seat between the two North America nations and eagerly watched as the cross-dressing, soccer-loving hilarity ensued.

By the end, he had detailed notes on all of the relationships. Viola (dressed as a guy, like Hungary!) loved 'Duke' Orsino who loved Olivia who loved male!Viola (a guy who was surprisingly feminine, like Poland!). The story nearly ended in recrimination and tears, but it all worked out okay in the end because Viola had a male twin so everyone got what they wanted.

Sealand liked happy endings. He decided to take America's advice and watch The Lion King instead of reading Hamlet. He wondered why England had never told him that it was possible to watch movies instead of reading fusty old plays.

"So what did you ask Santa to get you for Christmas this year?" America asked Sealand as the credits rolled. America's eyes gleamed with excitement.

Sealand rolled his eyes. "I'm not a little kid. I know Santa isn't real."

"Dude! You live with Santa. How do you not believe in him?" America asked incredulously.

"Don't ruin it for America, he still loves Santa," Canada whispered to Sealand with a merry twinkle in his eyes. "You should see the length of the letters he writes to Santa."

"Does it work?" Sealand asked.

America grinned. "Heck yeah! How else do you think I got so much cool stuff?"

Sealand nodded to himself and decided it was worth a try. He bid the brothers good night and went up to the guest bedroom, where he pulled out a pen and a scrap piece of paper and drafted his letter.

Dear Santa Claus,

I've been really good this year and have barely annoyed my big brother Arthur even though he's a total jerk. I want independence for Christmas. Also, please give my brother a lump of coal.

Love,

Sealand

He nodded to himself, slipped downstairs unnoticed as America and Canada continued their movie marathon, and placed the note into America's 'to mail' pile. He hoped that independence would be able to fit in Santa's bag.

The next movie had such loud explosions that America and Canada didn't hear the door bell ring the first few times. They only noticed when the movie switched to a sex scene, which was still loud, but not quite as loud as America's national-anthem door bell.

America jumped over the back of the couch and ran to the entryway, sliding along the wooden floors in his socks. He grinned as he opened the door, eagerly expecting to see Prussia and England, completely plastered and wearing something completely ridiculous. He wasn't disappointed. Prussia was covered in strings of red lights and what looked like sausage links.

He glanced around for England and spotted the nation riding a shopping cart at the top of the street. England had hoisted the Jolly Roger on a make-shift flag pole and was shouting "Rule Britannia!" as he sped down the hill and toward America's driveway. America raced to the front of the front of the garage and managed to catch the cart before it collided with the garage door.

England staggered in America's direction like a drunken sailor—which he was—and America got a good chance to admire his outfit. England wore an eye patch, a presumably fake sword, and a sexy Santa outfit with a scandalously short hemline. He probably should have been shivering cold in the outfit, but the liquor had warmed him up nicely, leaving his face flushed as red as the color of the outfit. America was impressed, considering that England had left the house wearing trousers and a dull sweater vest.

The island nation draped an arm around the larger nation's neck and accepted America's help walking up the steps to the house. He smelled like rum and had probably stolen the outfit, the shopping cart, and the flag. America hoped the owners wouldn't turn up looking for their lost property. Still, the advantage of Prussia/England drinking nights was that Prussia usually managed to cart England back to America's doorstep with a minimum of drunken ranting, other than on the rare occasions when America got a call from the police station and had to post bail. And from long personal experience, Prussia was good at timing the drinking so that England arrived home before he passed out, saving everyone the trouble of carrying him home.

Canada padded over to the door at a more sedate pace and gave the drunken duo an appraising glance. "Any outstanding warrants I should know about?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. National personifications enjoyed diplomatic immunity, but it was still embarrassing when airport security pulled them over.

Prussia pulled off the lights and tossed them behind a bush. He grinned. "Nah, biride, just some awesome stuff that'll be in the papers tomorrow. Here, hold my sausage for me."

"Wait… people still get papers?" America asked, tightening his grip as he felt England start to slump forward. England drowsily murmured something about uncultured gits, but he was too far gone for his usual drunken rant. America grinned happily as England rested his mop of messy blond hair on America's shoulder. England was rarely affectionate in public, other than when he was very drunk or very sick, so America took the opportunity to enjoy the flushed embrace of a cuddle-happy England whenever he got the chance.

America nodded goodbye to Prussia and Canada and then shut the door behind him with his foot. He led England over to the sofa and finished watching the last ten minutes of the film with England cuddled up next to him. The lack of acerbic British comments felt rather strange.

After the movie ended, America carried the bowls into the kitchen and noticed the new letter in the pile. Spotting the handwritten address, he smiled. He decided that it wouldn't hurt to take a peek at the letter. After all, Santa could always use a little help.

When he returned to the living room, America smiled at the island nation's ridiculous outfit (only England would try to dress as pirate Santa) and the curled-up position he had adopted after he passed out on the couch.

"So… Sealand asked for Independence for Christmas, and I was thinking I should get it for him. You have any objections?"

England snored.

America decided that meant he didn't object.

Three days before Christmas.

England smoothly glided across the ice, keeping a watchful eye on both Sealand and America to make sure they didn't hurt themselves by pulling a stupid stunt on the ice.

Sealand was skating with a group of children, bragging that he was a Prince of Sealand. They clearly didn't believe him.

"Where's Sealand?" one asked.

"It's an independent nation next to England."

"Oh, okay... Where's England?"

England resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. It was bad enough that Americans couldn't seem to remember the difference between England, Great Britain, and the United Kingdom, but it was even worse when they didn't seem to recognize any of the names.

America hadn't even apologized for his people's rampant ignorance about other countries. Instead the nation had laughed and claimed that England enjoyed the confusion, because it gave him something to complain about.

"You're gonna complain about something anyway, so isn't it better that you have something real to complain about?" America had replied with his usual laugh. Then he had grinned and quoted the Bard in an atrocious English accent, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Do you even understand what that means?"

"Sure, it means that you're you and you smell nice like roses."

England had not even tried to argue with that poor attempt at logic.

On the ice, England's gaze drifted back to America as he thought about the other nation. What the statement lacked in logic, it made up for with tender romance—something that England had discovered was true for America in general.

America's grin widened when he caught England's glance and suddenly England just knew that America was going to try to do something stupid to impress him. He sped up and attempted an Axel jump in a clear patch of ice. His skates slipped out from under him during the landing and he fell straight on his back. England heard a distressing crunch. He knew nations couldn't die, but they could still feel pain.

He cut across the rink, pushed aside a bystander, and kneeled down next to America.

"Alfred, are you okay?"

"Fine," he replied, blinking rapidly in the light.

England wasn't convinced. "What year is it?"

"Uh…"

"Can you count backwards from 10?"

America grinned unsteadily. "Is it New Year's already?"

England shooed away the bystanders, reassuring them that the young man was alright. "If he's making bad jokes, he's fine."

He helped America to his feet and led him to one of the tables near the skating rink. They sat together, watching as Sealand had a heated debate with an American child over whether it was cool to be a duke or a baron. She thought titles and classes were silly things.

America recovered rapidly, reciting the year and threatening to sing the entire "99 bottles of beer" song.

"It's a good thing you didn't want me to recite the alphabet backwards. You'd say I was wrong at the first letter," he added.

"Well, I'd be right. It's Zed not 'Zee.'"

"You want me to kneel before Zed?" America asked with a grin. England stared blankly, causing America to sigh and explain, "It's an internet thing." The day England understood internet memes would be the day America understood Shakespeare.

Christmas Day.

England thought he knew America well, but every now and again the other nation found small ways to surprise him. England knew that America was a lazy git who never woke up early and always arrived to meetings late. This was largely true. America slept until noon if he could and it usually took a small army to drag him out of bed before 7am. But on one day of the year, and one day alone, he happily awoke before the break of dawn. And that day was Christmas, when America couldn't wait to see the gifts that Santa had left in his stocking.

America was noisy in the morning, which normally didn't matter since England had already showered and finished his morning cup of tea. On Christmas, it meant that England had to wake up early too, grumbling the entire time.

"It's four bloody am in the morning," England complained as he stumbled out of bed, his eyes blurry and his hair lop-sided. His grouchy expression lightened as America pulled him close for a soft kiss, morning breath and all.

"I have got an awesome surprise. Come on, Sealand's already in the car!"

America tossed over a set of clothes to England. He bounced up and down and impatiently tapped his foot as he waited for the Englishman to finish dressing.

"What are you gabbing about?" England asked. He had barely finished pulling on his green jumper when America grabbed him and pulled him towards the stairs.

"You know those car commercials where you give someone a car with a giant bow on top for Christmas?" America asked as he hopped down the stairs, glancing back at England with a mischievous smile.

England felt the pit of his stomach drop. "Please tell me you did not purchase a car for Sealand."

"Nah, of course not!" America tugged on his coat near the door and pushed a different one into England's arms. "Nope, what I was going to say is that this present required an even larger bow. Now, hurry up! It takes three hours to drive to Norfolk!" Unable to wait a second longer, he wrapped a scarf around England's neck and nearly dragged him out to the car.

Sealand had already claimed the front passenger's seat, so England slipped into the back and buckled on his seat belt.

The pulled through a fast food drive-through not far from the highway, giving America a chance to order coffee and England a chance to decline the nasty hot drinks Americans dared to call tea.

England leaned his head against the headrest, closed his eyes, and—despite his consistent complaints that America drove too fast and on the wrong side of the rode—managed to fall asleep.

England woke up as they pulled into a parking spot at a shipyard. He glanced at the window and finally understood what America meant about the giant bow. As they spilled out of the car, England could not believe his eyes.

America had placed a giant red ribbon on a U.S. battleship. The U.S.S. Independence.

As he posed in front of the ship, America spread his hands wide. "Here it is, Sealand! Santa asked me to give you the Independence for Christmas." He leaned forward and whispered, "But just for Christmas Day, okay? My boss would get mad otherwise."

Sealand's eyes widened dramatically. "My own battleship?"

"No! Absolutely not! If he can't drive a car, he definitely cannot steer a ship," England protested. "I completely forbid it." He grabbed the micronation by the hand and pulled him back to the car. Sealand wiggled out of his grasp.

"Actually, my place doesn't have age requirements for steering ships. It's totally legal here."

"Something can be both legal and a terrible idea."

"You were sailing the seas at his age."

"That was a different age, we had different expectations."

"It's my ship—see, it says United States Ship—so it's my rules. And the sailors get today off, so no one's aboard and no one's going to miss it for a day." He grinned. "So I say we have fun."

England opened his mouth to respond and realized that Sealand had raced across the parking lot and boarded the ship. He followed the micronation toward the ship, America trailing closely behind. They finished climbing up the ladder to the top deck just as the ship started to pull away from the dock. Thanks to technology, the ship was steered at the push of a button—something Sealand had become increasingly skilled at doing over the past few days playing America's video games. This same technology prevented England from busting down the door to the bridge. Unable to reach the micronation, he whirled to vent his spleen at America.

America pouted. "I don't understand why you're so annoyed, I asked you if it was okay to give Sealand the Independence last Wednesday and you didn't object."

England frowned. "Last Wednesday? You mean drinking-night-with-Prussia Wednesday?"

"Yup."

"The night after which I woke up dressed like a pirate Santa, with a foul-tasting mouth and a pounding head?"

"You also yelled at the light and said you wanted to die," America added helpfully. "And your hair was really cute because it all pointed to one side. Like the best case of bedhead ever. And I saved the outfit for later because hot damn…" he finally noticed the glare on England's face and stopped talking.

England arched an eyebrow. "And you thought letting Sealand play around with a battleship was a good idea because…?"

"If you give kids a bit of an outlet, they won't rebel in major ways. He wants to be like you, but you keep saying no, so he pushes back, until soon or later, it's going to break."

Silence filled the corridor, other than the soft rumble of the large engines beneath their feet. America stared at him with a guileless expression, but England wondered, not for the first time, how much America chose to ignore simply because he could. Perhaps they were just talking about Sealand, but he somehow doubted it.

"Besides, I programmed in a course that'll get us back to Norfolk before sunset. The Navy would be super mad at me if I lost another ship," America said with an easy grin, breaking the tension. He took England's softened expression as a sign to continue and grabbed the older nation's hand. "I thought this would be fun for us, y'know. Just a romantic boat ride." He smiled and pointed to the flag pole. For the first time, England noticed that the battleship was flying the Jolly Roger, instead of the Stars and Stripes.

England laughed, enjoying the breeze in his hair and the slight tang of salt in the air. "You do know me rather well, don't you?" The former pirate suddenly smirked, something about the sea, the wind, and the flag reminding him of his sea-faring roots. "Then again, I know you too."

He patted the pocket where he had tucked a spool of red ribbon. After a bit of trial and error, he had discovered that he could fashion a red bow to cover all of the essential bits. He knew how much America loved to receive gifts wrapped with a giant red bow.

"Huh?"

"Meet me in the crew's quarters in about 15 minutes."

America stared slack-jawed when he found England sitting on a bunk bed in the crews quarter's wearing nothing but a red ribbon. Then America grinned and unwrapped the ribbon with his teeth. They barely noticed the poor quality of the mattress or the distant humming of the engine, as their entire existence narrowed to the pleasures of sweat and skin and tangled limbs, and then soft words shared in a tender embrace.

Later on, after they returned to Washington and put Sealand to bed, America agreed that it was the best present he had ever received. He smiled warmly and England could read the reason in his eyes.

All I want for Christmas is you.

THE END.

FOR REALSIES.

Author's Notes

USUK and PruCan make me very happy together because I imagine they would go on the best double dates.

Also, sorry for teasing you guys about giving Sealand his independence and then merely giving him the U.S.S. Independence. I briefly considered having America give him Independence, Missouri, but I decided that a ship made more sense for a sea fort and that it would be too hard to find a bow big enough to wrap a town.

'Do Not Want' and 'Kneel Before Zod' References

A Chinese bootleg DVD of Star Wars Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith (amusingly mistranslated as Star War: The Backstroke of the West) included a number of delightful howlers, such as the "Jedi Council" becoming "The Presbyterian Church" and "the force" becoming "the wish power." But its most famous, was when Darth Vader learns of Padme's death and his famous line "NOOO" was translated as "Do not want" in the subtitle.

(The translation makes sense if the subtitles were translated from English to Chinese to English. Chinese doesn't have a single word for 'no.' Instead, something like '[wo] bu yao' literally means '[I] do not want.")

I don't know where 'Kneel Before Zod' comes from, but I like to imagine England shouting 'Kneel Before Zed' when he gets really drunk.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!