Fall Back

A Hetalia Fanfic

Rating: T (could probably pass for K+, but I really wasn't sure)

Characters: Alfred (America), Arthur (England), Francis (France).

Pairings: None, really. I didn't write this to be a pairing fic, but I also don't really care how it's interpreted.

Warnings: This is my first fic, and I hope everyone's somewhat in character. Other than that, there's really nothing for me to warn about.

Summary: Arthur's humorous reaction to last week's end of daylight savings.

I know this fic is seriously late, but I did actually write it on time. I just never got the chance to upload it. So, it's a week late, but it's probably still all right no matter when it's submitted.

So, on to the fic!

November 1, 2009

RING! RING! RING!

"Ugh…" I mumble as I roll out of bed to answer the telephone. I know who it is before I even pick up.

"Bonjour, mon cher," says Francis sweetly. "It's time to wake up, non?"

"Francis." This happens all the time. Every morning at six o'clock, without fail, Francis calls to wake me up, and I haven't the foggiest idea as to why he does it (and I would really prefer if it'd stay that way, thank you). And even though I am currently staying at Alfred's house, he still manages to call. Unbelievable.

"I am not your "cher," you git," I shoot back.

"Arthur, dear, one would think that you would be cheerier this morning. After all, you did get one hour more of sleep…"

"An hour more…" I glance at the clock. 7:14?! Oh, crap, I'm an hour late! "Bloody hell! I'm late, Francis!! I have to go!" Slamming down the phone, I pull my shirt off a hanger and yank it on. Of course it has buttons! Why does it have to have buttons? Why can't I just swallow my pride and wear one of those sloppy – what are they called again? – "t-shirts" that Alfred sometimes wears? Oh, right; it's because I'm a bloody perfectionist and always have to look good, that's why!

"And why didn't Alfred have the sense to wake me up, the-" I manage to catch myself before I can say the next word, which would assuredly have been vulgar. And it's 7:26 already; I'm never going to make it on time.

My pants are already halfway up before I realize they're on backwards. Damn! I continue to swear profusely as I struggle with my sweater vest. And where's my tie? I tug a random one from a hook in the closet and throw it around my neck without tying it, promising I'll take care of it later as I stumble down the stairs.

I grab my jacket and briefcase from the kitchen table and rush into the garage, stuffing one of those protein bars that Alfred keeps around into my mouth. I spare a moment for a cursory glance at the clock. 7:48. I might still make it to the meeting if Alfred drives quickly.

You see, my morning schedule works something like this. I'm temporarily residing in the States for a series of summits being held throughout the month. And as America is not my country, I must arrive early to set everything in order before each meeting. In order to be at the conference center at 7:15, I have to wake up at six o'clock (that's the easy part; I wake up when Francis calls). After I rudely hang up on Francis, I eat breakfast, shower, dress, and meet Alfred in the garage. He doesn't have to be anywhere until 8:30, so he just throws a robe on over his pajamas and drives me to the conference center. Then he drives back here, puts himself together, and returns to the center in time for the meeting. So far, the system has been working well, but today…

"Alfred?" I call, but I only receive an echo for my trouble. That's odd; Alfred's always waiting here by the time I arrive. Of course, it's 7:49 now, not 6:58, so perhaps he left without me. No, that can't be right; his car is still here! So where is he?

But there's really only one other place he could be, and the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that he's still in bed, the lazy idiot. Scowling, I race back up the stairs and open the door to Alfred's room. "Get up, already!"

My assumption was right. Alfred is lying in his bed, surrounded by a cocoon of blankets. Hearing my voice, he stirs and sits up slowly. "Huh?" he says groggily.

"What are you doing, Alfred? We're late!"

"Late?" He still doesn't get it. How could he still not get it?

"It's almost eight o'clock, you moron!"

He stares at me, mouth slightly open. Does he get it yet? Please tell me he gets it! "Arthur, I didn't know you wear pink underwear."

"They're not pink, they're a very light shade of red, and – wait, how do you know that?" Oh, please tell me I didn't forget to… Of course I forgot. Blushing madly, I turn my back to Alfred, zip my pants (how could I forget that?), and turn back around to yell at him some more, though I doubt it'll have the same effect now that I've made a fool of myself.

"So, what were you saying, Arthur?" asks Alfred. Back to business, then.

"I'm only going to say it once more, Alfred. We. Are. Late."

"You kiddin'? We're not late at all, Arty!" he cries, snatching his watch from his nightstand and checking the time.

"Not late? Are you joking? It's 7:53!"

"I guess I should get up and drive you to the conference center, yeah?" I cannot believe I put up with this imbecile. Is he really that stupid?

"Yes, you should, because I'm very, very late, and you'll be the same way if you don't get your arse moving!"

He chuckles. "Relax, you're still gonna be there before anybody else. I dunno why you want to get there so early, but whatever…"

"What are you talking about, Alfred?" Can he seriously not grasp the concept of 'late'? Is he that thick? "It's almost eight o'clock! At this rate, we won't even make it to the meeting!"

He looks as though he's finally registering the information, his brows furrowing in confusion. "But it's only 6:54." Or not. I thought he had it; I honestly thought he had it. I suppose not.

"What?"

"Oh, maybe they already did this in England." He gives me a quick look. "Did they already do it?"

"Do what?"

"Daylight savings, duh." He says it as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It ended last night, or at least it did here. I think it ended in England on the 20-something."

I get a strange, sinking feeling in my stomach. "Daylight savings?"

"Yeah," he replies. "We fell back an hour last night. I thought I set all the clocks back…" He pauses for a moment, trying to remember. "…but I might've forgotten the one in the guest room…oops…" With his words, the mistake finally registers in my mind. He hadn't set the clock in my room! I was running around like a maniac for no reason at all!

"ALFRED, YOU IDIOT!"

So, that's the end of my first fic!

Review and tell me how I did! But no flames, please. Do tell me how I did, but nicely. Remember, this was my first try.