Hey there, Fang here.

Man, been a while since I've posted anything...Sorry about that, I've been rather busy with college and all. And I've been rather obsessed with a certain Rupert Graves (Lestrade from "Sherlock", in case anyone was wondering) because he is rather attractive for a man of 49 years, and I love Lestrade. I adore Lestrade.

Anyway! This is Hetalia, not Sherlock. Hetalia things.

Well, this little fic is thanks to 9foxgrl, who suggested that for this story I do something about Alfred teaching Arthur to ride a bike. Well, it didn't turn out quite that way, but it was the perfect thing to get some muse juices up and flowing again.

Again, sorry if it's a bit rusty. All my works are completely un-beta'd and un-Brit-picked, mostly because I am too lazy to find myself one and also because I'm too lazy to go back through my own work once it's done. At least for this story, anyway.

Enjoy!

"But it's so large, Alfred!" exclaimed the little boy standing stock-still in the middle of the front yard. Alfred laughed, and ruffled Arthur's gravity-defying hair in encouragement, and adjusted his grip on the straps leading to the helmet swinging in his other hand.

"It's not that bad, Artie. Come on, I'll be with you all the way, alright? It'll be so awesome when you can ride it by yourself!" Taking Arthur's little hand, he led his little (physically speaking) brother out to the red bicycle leaning against the curb. He had spent some time digging it out of Arthur's attic, and then washing and polishing it up while Arthur was having his nap. For as long as Arthur was going to be a child, he might as well have some Hallmark moments.

Obviously, learning to ride a bike was pretty high up on Alfred's list of things to do with Arthur before he changed back.

"I…I know how to ride it! So we don't have to do it, alright?" Arthur looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, each one trying to hide his nervousness with his usual stubbornness. Alfred smirked.

"Sure you can, Artie. Sure."

"No, really! I completely know how to ride this…thing. Really!"

"If you say so, then show me." Alfred couldn't help but play along.

Arthur's eyes were wide with anxiety and anticipation, and he gripped Alfred's hand tightly in his own small fingers. But he didn't make a single sound of admitting that he was wrong. Deciding to let his brother at least try and keep his dignity, Alfred bent down to his level, and proceeded to place the red child's helmet upon his head. Arthur scowled and tried to lift it off.

"Alfred, I don't need this! I'll be fine." He frowned, but Alfred just laughed and fastened the straps underneath Arthur's chin.

"Well, I don't particularly want you cracking your skull open on the pavement, so you're gonna wear this and you're going to deal with it, kay?" he flicked Arthur's nose, and snickered at his brother's affronted look. Arthur rubbed his nose and snarled an acquiescence.

"I could do this with my eyes closed, so I don't need this. It looks stupid!" Arthur fiddled with the straps, pulling on them as if he could make them magically disappear. Alfred stood up and placed his hands behind his head.

"Well, if you're so sure, I could just go back inside the house and watch you show off how good you are." He lifted an eyebrow in amusement.

"Yeah! Yeah, you go do that! I'll show you!" Arthur shot back, his small hands balling in defiance. Alfred tipped him a two-fingered salute at his brow and headed back into the house, leaving Arthur alone with the bike.

Once inside, Alfred made his way to the front window, where he grabbed a chair and settled to watch what he hoped was a battle of epic proportions about to take place.

Arthur spent a good five minutes just staring at the death contraption, frantically trying to think of a way out of this that didn't seem absolutely humiliating. He was definitely bloody not about to let Alfred think that he couldn't do it. He was British, for heaven's sake, and he could do anything.

But this bike puzzled him. He knew how people rode them, by sitting up on the odd little seat and pushing down on the pedals while holding onto the rubber ends of the bars. It shouldn't be that hard, should it?

Tentatively, he approached the metal contraption, held upright by the kickstand on the sidewalk. He kicked it up, as he had seen other people do, and then he was holding it up by the handlebars. Alright, this wasn't so bad. He pushed the bike back and forth a bit, trying to get a grasp on how heavy it was. Unfortunately, it was a bit more than he expected, and he bit his lip in concentration.

He could still back out of this and ask Alfred for help. But that would be defeat and surrender and all other kinds of bad things, and he would never live it down. He had to do this, and he would!

Alfred snickered at the scene playing out before him. Arthur hadn't even gotten on the bike yet, and this was still the most entertaining thing he had seen all day. Any test of the Brit's tenacity would yield hilarious results. There was the small worry in the back of his mind that Arthur could get himself hurt from this, but right now that didn't register in Alfred's mind. Arthur was trying to mount the bike, and Alfred couldn't contain his laughter any longer.

"Stupid bloody thing!" Arthur yelled, trying and failing to swing one leg over the seat and ending up hopping out the way rather quickly to avoid having the bike fall onto him. It crashed onto the pavement over and over again, none the worse for wear. He snarled a few more curses a child of his size shouldn't have even heard from his parents, and grabbed for another try. Who ever heard of the country of Britain being unable to ride a bicycle? He asked himself over and over again, forgetting his initial fear of the machine as his anger and frustration grew.

He dusted himself off after a few more tries, and decided upon a different tactic. Instead of trying to clamber onto the seat itself without the whole thing toppling over, Arthur instead straddled the entire thing just in front of the seat. Now he could stand the bike up, with the seat just behind him. He smiled triumphantly for the first time in fifteen minutes. All he had to do now was put one foot on the lower-most pedal, and lift himself up and-

The bike betrayed him. Instantly he flung himself off and onto the grass as the whole thing decided that cooperation was definitely last century and flipped over. Arthur scrubbed the dirt off his shorts, and glared at the stupid hunk of metal. Who said riding one of these things was a good idea? He was an absolute madman, to be sure! But one look at Alfred doubled over in the front window laughing hysterically was enough to set his lip once more and tackle the obstacle.

He circled the bike, slowly and methodically, staring it down into the dirt it rested on.

"Oh, it's war, you insurmountable demon-spawn. It's war! You'll wish you had never been born when I finally master you!" Arthur yelled at the innocent-looking metal frame, just for something to vent at. Alfred nearly fell over.

Arthur grabbed the bike viciously and soon, he was back in the position that seemed to work best, but this time, he timed his weight distribution so that one side wouldn't all of a sudden tip over like the stupid bike wanted to. He was going to exorcise whatever the hell kind of demon was possessing this thing. As soon as he showed Alfred up, of course. That came first on his list of priorities.

He was on the seat! He was sitting on the demonic being! He had beaten the damn thing! His mind raced with pleasure at this new development, until the structure began to wobble and in a frantic movement to stay up and not come crashing down again in front of Alfred, he pushed on the pedals.

The bike jumped forward, and he was moving.

Alfred could have applauded Arthur for this, but his stomach hurt too much from his guffawing that all he could do was smile through his tears of mirth. He could see Arthur pedaling like a criminal from the law, thinking that that was the only thing keeping him upright.

Arthur was on top of the world right now. He was doing it! He was riding it! Take that, Alfred, and the bloody demon bike! He could ride a bike just as well as anyone! It was so blazingly simple, so commonplace. Arthur Kirkland, King of the Bike, next stop, that lovely shining contraption that Alfred called a car! He shut his eyes, enjoying the wind blowing past his face. Oh, this was the most glorious-

A tremendous jolt shot through the bike, and then he wasn't on it anymore. He was caught in a tangle of metal and wood and dirt until he didn't know which way was up or down. A dull thump landed on his helmet, and the world went still.

Barely two seconds later, or it could have been two hours, he heard Alfred's voice yelling his name. Arthur opened his eyes, and closed them again quickly in an attempt to make the world stop spinning.

"Arthur! Artie!" Alfred dashed to his charge, who was lying a foot or two away from the still spinning front wheel of the bike. Already, he was trying to sit up. Alfred came to his side, and unbuckled his helmet, slightly dented from the impact into the ground.

"Artie? Artie, you alright? Anything hurt?" Alfred ran his hands through Arthur's hair, feeling along his skull for any abrasions or major injuries. There was only a small bump on the top of his head, and he could feel Arthur wince under his touch. He sighed in relief.

"That was an awesome tumble you took there, bro! Geez…" Alfred began searching Arthur for any other injuries, but Artie had already closed his hand over a skinned knee and a bleeding elbow. He was biting his quivering lip and squinting his eyes shut. Alfred gently removed his small hand to assess the damage.

"Hey, it's not too bad. You got some nice shiners there, though. If you didn't look tough before today, you sure do now, Artie."

"I almost did it…" mumbled Arthur in defeat.

"Well, next time you'll actually know about steering and breaking. But you did all that on your own, and that's pretty epic in itself!" Alfred consoled him. Seeing that the damage could be easily repaired with Band-Aids and disinfectant, Alfred gathered Arthur onto his back, securing his little arms around his neck before hiking his legs up. He stood up, the little one firmly settled, and headed off.

Arthur looked over his shoulder at the accident site.

There was the dented helmet, and the tire tracks in the dirt, and some scratch marks where the bike had hit the fence.

But amidst all that, there was that bike. The front wheel had stopped spinning. The frame wasn't bent out of shape.

The bike was perfectly fine.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he cursed under his breath. "I'll destroy that bloody scrap metal, I will.." he said, burrowing his face in Alfred's shoulder. Alfred chuckled, and headed back towards the house.

Author's Comments:

Alright! I think I have some ideas now for this story. Oh, and for Icy Darkness. I was going to end it in a couple of chapters or so, but now I think I have enough creativity to make it 5 to 6 chapters longer.

Oh! Just a heads up, I have indeed officially changed my penname from Kakashi323 to Fang323. I go by Fang here, and it didn't make much sense (To me, anyway) to continue using a screenname when it's Fang everywhere else.

And just a sidenote on Jack, Arthur's bear...I did intentionally name him after the Union Jack, but then I watched Doctor Who and Torchwood. And now all I can think of is naming it after Captain Jack Harkness.

That poor bear. (Or that awesome bear, in my opinion. :) )

It's good to be back.

-Fang