Disclaimor: I do not own Hetalia.
Alfred Jones was having the worst day ever.
Work starting at 5 am, the most ungodly time known to man, excusing 4 am. He rolled out of bed purposely, hoping that the land on the floor would wake him up. It didn't. He slept on the hardwood for the time allotted for a shower and breakfast and didn't stir until last minute. After throwing on his McDonald's uniform and tossing a few mints in his mouth, Alfred was out the door and into his truck, speeding down the highway towards town.
It wasn't until he reached the Welcome to Wood Grove Springs sign that he slowed down. He knew that any town with the word "springs" came with three guarantees: 1) having a population under 500, 2) having cops that know your farmer parents personally, and 3.) having absolutely no girls to impress with your speeding truck since they are all your cousins one way or another. So he slowed down.
Upon arriving at McDonalds, Alfred realized he was late and none of his coworkers had been nice enough to clock him in. He went to work, stomach growling as the amazing smell of burgers and fries wafted through the room. After spilling grease on himself twice and getting burns that were almost bad enough to make him cry, Alfred got the delightful job of cleaning up puke in the Play Place when a tourist kid upchucked his breakfast.
The only coworker Alfred had any lick of respect for was his friend Eliza-Joe, though she preferred to go by Elizabeta. Elizabeta was sixteen years old and worked two jobs to support her newborn son, Feli. Despite the fact she hadn't made the wisest choices of the town, Elizabeta was a sweet girl who could probably kick Alfred's butt. It was her job to work the drive- through today, but Wood Grove Springs was a sleepy town and the only people to drive through at this time in the morning were the road trippers that traveled through town occasionally.
"Hey Elizabeta, how are you?" asked Alfred, leaning against the counter. Instantly, Alfred regretted asking, because the look on Elizabeta's face showed she was in one of "those moods."
"Just freakin' peachy. Do you even know what that low- life bastard said yesterday?" asked Elizabeta, pulling the mic from her headset back. She had already been docked pay a few times for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time on her headset, even though it had been on accident. Alfred sighed.
"You're going to have to clarify which bastard, darlin'," said Alfred. Eliza rolled her eyes, half turning away from him to look out the window like a sulking child.
"Gil, of course, who else would it be?" she said. Before Alfred could respond, she went on. "He had the gall to say that Feli ain't his! He's been telling everyone Feli's Rod's son, but I know for a fact he ain't." "But… now, don't take this the wrong way sugar, but didn't you sleep with Rod last summer?" asked Alfred. He leaned foreword, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, only to have it shaken off roughly.
"Shut your trap, I know what I'm talking about Alfie. And without getting into detail, there is no way that Feli could be Rod's. Gil just needs to suck it up and pay my damn child support," said Elizabeta. Alfred sighed again, rubbing his temples and silently wishing he was home.
"I'm sorry, Liza. I didn't mean to-"
"Yeah, well you did. Leave me alone, Alfie, you don't even understand," Elizabeta said, turning away from Alfred completely. She brought the headset back to her mouth. "May I take your order?"
Alfred's boss, Berwald, or as everyone else called him, Berny, strode through the door holding a mug of coffee in his hand. He strode up to the counter, and Alfred refrained from wrinkling his nose. Berny smelled like horses, as so many in that part did, and although it wasn't pleasant Alfred realized he too must smell pretty gross, a combination of grease and puke. Berny regarded him coldly.
"Mr. Jones, may I talk to you for a moment?" asked Berny. Alfred nodded.
"Yes sir, my shift's just finishing up," he said. Clocking out quickly, Alfred met his boss at one of the tables and sat down.
"Mr. Jones, unfortunately I have to tell you that we're letting you go," said Berny. Silence. Alfred's jaw fell open, his eyes as wide as the tires on his truck, and his stomach dropped to the floor.
"What?" he yelled. His voice came out louder than intended, so much that Elizabeta turned to glare at her friend from across the room, only to soften her expression into one of concern when she noticed Berny. The horse-smelling man shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting around the room as he pushed a typed paper foreword. Alfred read it; a business form that basically stated he agreed to be fired. With sweaty palms Alfred signed it, practically throwing the paper at his former boss. Without another word Alfred got up, storming out the door angrily.
He drove to the only gas station in town and was greeted cheerily by Antonio, who sat in front of the packs of cigarettes with a magazine in his lap. Antonio was another one of Alfred's friends, an illegal immigrant whose family owned the town drug store. The two met in seventh grade when the Carriedo family moved into town, but Antonio picked up on English quickly and returned to his proper grade a year later. Antonio was finally twenty-one and old enough to work the drug store, so Alfred saw him a lot more these days when he went on errands.
"Hola Alfie, how are you?" asked Antonio as Alfred approached the counter.
"Not my best dude, could I get two scratch offs and some beer?" asked Alfred. Antonio smirked.
"That bad, huh? Did you see any cops outside on your way in?" asked Antonio. Technically, it was illegal for Alfred to drink, seeing as he was only eighteen, but it was a small town and Antonio was his friend. Alfred rolled his eyes.
"No, and even if there were, they wouldn't care. Everyone in this town drinks at eighteen," said Alfred as Antonio rang him up a six pack.
Arthur Kirkland was not happy.
The problem was this blasted plane. First class was not an escape from the turbulence, nor did it keep out the crying baby in the second row. Between his headache and roiling stomach, Arthur felt like he had the flu, with the only relief being the cold window pane against his forehead.
His father paid no heed, of course, as he was too busy catching up on sleep for the big meeting in two hours. Arthur should have felt pity for the man. But it hadn't been his choice to be dragged on this vacation anyways, and even though his father labeled it as "bonding," they both knew the only time they would see each other was at meals, if that.
Arthur tried coping by ordering a martini. His father claimed it was unclassy to drink on a plane, but in Arthur's opinion it was twice as unclassy to sleep on one. Besides, Arthur was a grown man, he could make his own decisions even if they were on his father's tab.
The horrendous plane ride soon came to an end. Arthur and his father collected their baggage and maneuvered their way through the airport in silence. They got in the limo and before Arthur could breath a word, his father was on his phone. He chatted about marketing campaigns while tapping away at his laptop. With a sigh, Arthur slipped on his Beats headphones and turned on his iPod.
The ride through Hawaii was breathtaking, not that Arthur's father noticed. Glimmers of aqua blue ocean peeked out of lush foliage and soft sand. Tanned tourists with loud American accents filled the streets holding surf boards and skateboards; groups of girls in bikini tops and short-shorts, and long haired boys in swim trunks. They made their way through the shopping district and into the resort lane until disappearing into the forest. The limo rode up a steep incline and turned in dizzying circles up a cliff. Arthur felt himself turning as green as the palm leaves as they traveled deeper into the forest and higher up the cliff. Finally, light broke through the foliage and spilled into the car. Blinking rapidly, Arthur saw what appeared to be a small town on the top of the cliff, which upon further examination was actually the resort. A light palette of colors assaulted his senses that had grown accustomed to the dark green of the forest. The limo went through a set of gates before descending upon the horse-shoe shaped resort that was a mixture of soft blues and starch whites. The main building was a beige color and sat behind a magnificent pool with a waterfall in front. Surrounding the pool were cabañas that sheltered black recliners, several guests already seated in them at the early hour in the morning. The whole place was dotted with classic palm trees.
The sign read "The Ritz-Carlton." Mr. Kirkland took a moment's pause from his conversation to tip the limo driver and mutter a thank you. He left his son to handle check-in, straightening his tie and running to the elevator. Arthur let his Beats hang around his neck, taking a suitcase in each hand and entering the lobby alone.
"No way. No. This cannot be happening," muttered Alfred to himself. He paced across his room, one hand pushing up his mop of sweaty bangs, the other holding a scratch off so close to his face it was almost touching his glasses.
The little sevens all lined up. And no matter how many times Alfred read it, the instructions claimed he won. He scratched off every inch of the paint-covering, and even the barcode was visible. But no matter how he held it to the light, those sevens still lined up, all three of them in a row.
Life just got a whole lot better.
"Matti!" yelled Alfred, bursting out the doors of his bedroom and bombarding his twin brother. Said boy sat quietly at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. Next to him sat the twins, Carolina and Cali, who colored with nubbly crayons. Matti jumped, startled by his brother's sudden outburst.
"Matti, get your ass over here, I need to talk to you!" yelled Alfred.
"There's no need to yell," said his brother calmly. Alfred rolled his eyes as Matti took his time to roll up the newspaper and push in his chair. Ever since he went away to college, Matti thought he was this amazingly mature guy. He was visiting for the weekend right now and had taken care of all of the cooking. But still, Alfred knew if there was anyone to tell first, it would be him.
"It's a winner, bro, look!" yelled Alfred once the bedroom door was firmly shut behind him. Matti took the ticket from his brother calmly, but his eyes widened when he saw not only the sevens lined up, but the cash prize above it. He stood there for a good amount of time staring at the ticket just like Alfred had.
"So is it legit?" asked Alfred excitedly. Matti looked up as if broken out of a trance.
"I believe so. Did you get this from Antonio?" whispered Matti. Alfred nodded.
"Yup, right after losing my job," he said. His brother's smile fell off his face immediately and Alfred got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Alfred!" Matti scolded. The blonde rolled his eyes.
"Who cares dude? I mean, come on, I just won the lottery!" replied Alfred. He snatched the ticket from his brother's hands and grinned. "I've gotta go tell Mom!"
A/N- Hey guys! So, I know I shouldn't start another fanfiction, but I just couldn't help myself. I'll try and update Virus soon though. Please remember to review, it will totally make my day.