France looked over at the still sleeping America and let out a sigh. The night before had been perfectly planned but then the unthinkable happen...the Eiffel Tower would not light. No matter how hard he and America tried, it would not light, much to France's dismay. The night had been a complete loss for him, but like the generous lover he saw himself as, France has at least made sure that his partner was satisfied.

Yawning, he cast America a curious glance. Perhaps this morning would go better.

With a groan, he got out of bed, wincing when he heard many of his joints crack. He was definitely feeling his age today. Whether or not that was a sign of the day to come, he didn't know nor care to know.

"I guess I'll get the paper and start breakfast," he muttered to himself. No need to wake America just yet...early mornings were always a no-go when he was involved. Pulling a shirt on, he slipped out of the room and to the front door, flinging it open to the sunlight, ignoring the crack in his elbow, only to shut it when his neighbor across the way screamed at him.

How had he forgotten to put on pants? Normally he had no problem walking around in the nude, but he did try to be decent when it came to his neighbors. Quickly, he reentered his bedroom, but could not remember where he had discarded his pants the night before. With another sigh, he grabbed a clean pair and pulled them on before retrieving his paper. Only...

"What are you kids doing on my lawn?" He called to the group of schoolchildren who shot him innocent looks that were anything but. "Get off my lawn!" He shouted, waving his arms at them as if they were simply a flock of birds. Laughing, the kids scattered, but France knew they'd come back. They always did.

"Today isn't my day," he grumbled, making his way into the kitchen. Might as well start breakfast, at least cooking was something he knew he would always be good.

A short time later, coffee had been brewed and poured into two cups, and fresh crepes sat on the table, various ingredients scattered about. France truly wasn't in the mood for them, but America had a ridiculous love for them, and France was willing to do anything to get lucky this morning.

France took a seat at the table, frowning at the creaking his bones made, before spreading the paper in front of him.

"Good morning Francis. Oh, are those crepes?"

France continued staring at the paper, not having heard America. Why weren't the words clear? Shouldn't there be quality control at that paper?

"Good morning, France?"

Or...no. He didn't need glasses did he? That rosbif teased him enough as it was. Reading glasses would be the last straw!

"I said, "Good morning, France,"" a voice behind him sounded, vaguely annoyed.

France jumped and turned around, grinning at America. "Ah, good morning, cher. Why didn't you tell me you were up?"

America sighed and took a seat across from him. "Feeling better, France? Or are you still feeling like an old man?"

France scoffed and took a furious sip of his coffee. He didn't want to read the paper, anyway. "Of course not, cher. You are only as old as you feel…though, we can't all be full of youth like some people."

America simply laughed, and France once again got the impression that today just wasn't going to be his day.