The church service had been an unexpected edition to their evening. Kyle really wasn't sure how he felt about it, but Alfred had asked him.

"I know it's a little weird, but I really like attending the different services. Hearing everyone talking about God and what the Christmas season truly means to them? It makes me feel like I'm... like I'm normal."

Kyle remembered Alfred looking off to the side as he said that, as if he was remembering something fondly.

Kyle's main memories of church hadn't been good ones. He'd probably spent too much time at the schools they set up for his aboriginal people to ever feel comfortable near a religious school. But he could also understand the feeling Alfred must have had. The few times when Scotland or Wales had quietly taken him to services away from England had been... quite pleasant. Ireland had even taken him to a few mass services when he was a young colony living in London.

So he had relented, and Alfred had smiled. Alfred had been originally settled by merchants and people who were leaving to practice their own religions, so maybe his religious connection went even deeper than Kyle could see.

They arrived and were greeted by a pastor, whom Alfred knew by name. The local Presbyterian church, Kyle noted, remembering the way he and Scotland had stood in the pews, his uncle keeping him close and out of trouble. He even remembered sitting next to him while Alistair wrote notes on his own personal religious beliefs, torn between those who had wanted him to be Catholic and those who had eventually pushed him to be a Presbyterian.

"Hm, Uncle Scot would like this place." Kyle said as they went over and sat in a pew. "I never liked much of the theology, but it always felt nice when I went to church with him."

Alfred looked up towards the ceiling. "What about the Anglican Church?"

Kyle paused. "Preferred to attend services with Uncle Owen then." He said, conscious of the fact that he shouldn't say 'Uncle Wales' in front of the average citizen. "Dad was always a little too busy, and I'd get myself in trouble, but Owen kept a hand on me and Avery and would sometimes tap tunes on my hand. I had to tap them back."

Alfred smiled. "Kept you out of trouble. What about Aunt Siobhan?"

"Mass was interesting, but the art in the churches more so." Kyle said shortly.

The service began, and soon enough they were rising and singing.

Kyle kept his voice quiet, knowing that he couldn't sing very well. Ireland had tried to teach him a few times, but she was fairly sure he was partially tone deaf. Scotland had laughed about it and told him it didn't matter. "Just sing quietly unless you're singing those bawdy drinking songs, kid. That's what I always do!"

Kyle had thought it unfair he had to sing quietly when Owen and Avery worked together, and Owen taught Avery to sing with perfection. When Alistair had learned how upset Kyle was, he had come over.

"Kid, they don't call him the land of song for nothing. Avery takes after him a lot with that quiet nature and love of sheep. It makes sense they can both sing well too."

"Who do I take after?"

There was a long pause before Scotland responded.

"You have a bit of each of us in you. And you sometimes remind your father of someone else entirely, his first boy."

The name America was never said in those days. England either got mad or depressed when he heard it, and it was better to just act like he didn't exist sometimes.

"Although with that said, I think you have a bit more of me and your Uncle Owen than he did."

Kyle glanced up at Scotland, hearing the underlying tone in his voice. He knew that England only called him his son because he was the sibling with the most power, and that unlike America, his paternity was much more... in doubt.

He had leaned up against Scotland after he said that and nodded. "Yeah, so do I."

Alistair had paused, and then smiled, wrapping an arm around him. "You're a good kid, Kyle."

Kyle felt Alfred suddenly take his hand in between songs. "Hey, why are you being so quiet?" He whispered.

Kyle looked up. "Huh?"

"You're barely singing. Come on! It's a joyous occasion. People want to hear your voice!"

"No they don't, Alfred. I can't sing worth shit."

"You're always singing in the wars." Alfred said, confused.

"Yeah, those were soldier songs or drinking songs, not exactly something you need to hold a tune to be able to sing." Kyle whispered. "Wales wouldn't teach me to sing until I'd improved enough with Ireland, and she said there wasn't much hope."

The slip up, using their nation names, revealed volumes to Alfred. He paused before responding.

"You know, Uncle Scot always had the same things said against him... but the first time I ever heard him sing Loch Lomond... god, it was the most beautiful singing I'd ever heard."

Kyle heard the pastor call for them to rise and sing another song. Alfred opened the songbook to that page and stood. "Do as you will." He said.

The hymn was 'O Come All Ye Faithful', a personal favorite of Kyle's. Kyle began singing in his usual soft tone, barely above whispering.

Then he heard a short bit of laughter between the first and second verse, and turned to see a little girl grinning as she stumbled through the song. She was belting it out, not caring when she messed up.

He glanced back at Alfred, whose eyes had also found the little girl. He smiled and began the second verse.

Kyle allowed his voice to get louder as the verse continued, until he was grinning wildly as he sang the last line of the final verse. Alfred grinned as they sat down, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"That was good, Oz."

Kyle felt a slight blush come to his cheeks, even in the pew the furthest back, where almost no one would have seen the kiss. "Thanks, Al."