a/n: This is really more of a friendship fic, since I'm not good at writing slash;)
England erupted into a sudden coughing fit, gasping for breath as he clutched at his bedsheets. There was nothing worse than being sick the day before Christmas. He sniffled miserably whilst trying to reach a box of tissues. It must have been the flu, because his limbs ached and his head pounded, plus he had that terrible cough. England didn't get sick that much, and really hated when he did.
"Stupid bloody flu..." He grumbled, giving a slight shiver. Despite the house being turned up to a very warm degree, he still felt unnaturally cold. He supposed it must have been the fever.
This Christmas there was supposed to be a party at America's house. Obviously now he wouldn't be able to go. Perhaps that was better though. Often America's parties would be rather...wild. 'Maybe a little peace and quiet would be nice...' He thought.
Another coughing fit soon took over. 'Or maybe not'.
Everything had been fine two days before. Then all of the sudden he'd developed aches, chills, a fever...all at once. Of course he didn't tell anyone, because what would be worse than having someone take care of him? He'd be absolutely fine by himself!
The sick country was startled from his thoughts when his cellphone rang. Luckily it was on the nightstand, so he had no trouble reaching it.
"Hello?" He asked, trying not to sound as congested and hoarse as the sickness had made him.
"Hey dude!" America's cheerful voice rang out excitedly. "Hows it going?"
"Ah, just fine." England answered shortly, burying his face in the pillows to muffle his coughs.
"Awesome! So, are you still coming for the party tomorrow?" America questioned happily. England gave a sigh. He'd most certainly not be going, but he'd need an excuse so America or anyone else wouldn't discover his...ailment.
"Actually Alfred, I cant go." He said quickly, closing his eyes and tensing at the silence from the other end of the phone.
"...What? Why not? Is something wrong Iggy?" The superpower soon said.
"No! Of course not! It's just...uh...I have to go to a...thing." England sputtered out. He then face palmed. He needed to learn how to come up with better excuses.
"A thing?" America's voice was in a tone that suggested England's excuse was implausible.
"Yes, a thing! And it's very important, so I'll just mail your gift." England replied quickly, hoping for America to just let it go so the phone call could be over. He really wanted to go back to sleep. Suddenly, a couch escaped his mouth before he could cover it.
"Are you sick?" America asked, hearing the cough.
"No! Of course not you git! Now I really must be going. Happy Christmas, I'll be at the party next year!" England replied, slamming the phone shut.
He spent the next few hours sleeping. It was a restless sleep though, because of his aches and chills. The sickness seemed to be getting worse by the minute. One minute he'd be asleep, and the next he'd be woken by strange and disturbing dreams that the fever was likely causing.
England was awoken again by the sound of someone knocking on his front door from downstairs. He was much too tired to even think of getting up, so the nation just closed his eyes once again, drifting off. His eyes snapped open at the sound of his phone ringing once again. Just wanting to sleep, England gave an irritated whimper, but picked up his phone anyway. The caller id said it was France...oh great.
"What do you want frog?" He croaked into the phone, pulling the thick blankets closer around his shivering body.
"Angleterre, either open your front door or tell me where you hid the key!" France's thickly french accented voice spoke sternly to him.
"What the...why? Don't tell me your here..?"
"Yes" France answered. "And I'll break in unless you tell my where your key is."
"Why are you here?" England asked in an upset tone. France was supposed to on his way to Americas, not here! The last thing he needed was having to deal with the bloody frog in his condition!
"America called and said you were sick. Where is your key? You have three seconds to tell me before I break in." France said threateningly.
"You stupi-...it's under the smallest flower pot to the right." England told him, defeated. He didn't need a broken door, so he figured it best to just comply with France...for now. As soon as he spoke, England snapped the phone closed and buried his face into the pillows again, tears threatening to escape his eyes. He just felt so horrible!
His bedroom door was suddenly opened, and he was met by France. The wavy haired man studied England from the doorway for a moment, before giving a soft sigh.
"Oh mon cher...you really are sick." He murmured, coming forth to England's side. He placed his hand on England's forehead.
"Why the bloody hell are you here? I can take care of myself!" England mumbled, eyes droopy.
"Non, I do not think you can. Now go back to sleep, I must get some things to help you." France said, tucking the covers securely around England before leaving the room. Happy to be rid of the Frenchman, England sighed and fell back asleep.
Several minutes later he was brought back to reality as something cold and wet was placed on his forehead. It was a damp cloth. England, half conscious, whimpered and tried turning his head to rid it of the coldness.
"Shh, we need to get your fever down Angleterre." France spoke soothingly to him as he held the cloth in place. Being in no condition to fight back, England could only tremble as France ran the cloth over his face and neck. Soon he began to cough once again, and the cough concerned Francis. He went downstairs in search of medicine, only to discover that England didn't have any! France sighed irritatedly before returning to England.
"I must run to the store and get medicine. I'll only be ten minutes, alright? Keep this on." France said, replacing the newly drenched cloth upon England's head once again. England could only nod, watching as Francis left the room.
When he was sure that France was gone, England shook his head to rid himself from the cloth, watching as it fell to the floor. He then snuggled deep within the covers, hugging himself as he tried to gain warmth, despite the fever.
True to his word, France only took about ten minutes. He'd picked up cough medicine that was cherry flavored, as well as some grape medicine to help with the fever. He decided to stick with the liquid stuff because he didn't want England to choke if he got pills. He also bought a thermometer, as England didn't seem to have one of those either.
When we returned to England's room he saw the cloth on the floor and almost smiled at England's stubbornness, before growing a little concerned as he took out the newly purchased thermometer and approached his rival/friend.
"Angleterre, wake up for a moment mon ami." France said softly, using both arms to hoist the sleepy nation into a sitting position. England glared at him as he rested against the headboard.
"Open" France told him, not waiting for England to fully open his mouth before sticking the annoying thermometer in. "Keep it under your tongue until I say."
England rolled his eyes, but complied. He sat still, eying France warily as he observed the French nation pouring medicine into a cup. Soon the thermometer beeped, so France allowed England to open his mouth as he examined what England's temp was. 103...France decided that if it went up any more than he'd bring England to the hospital.
"I'm going to have you take two different types of medicine alright? One for the fever, one for the cough." France told him.
"Why? It's not like I can die anyway...it'll go away." England said, highly irritated at the thought of disgusting cough medicine. France smiled, running his fingers though England's damp hair.
"It's best go treat these things...we don't want it to worsen. Nation or not, illness is a serious thing." France admonished. "I'll go get you some juice so the taste will be a little more bearable. Besides, you need to get some fluids in you."
When France returned with some apple juice, he held to cup of medicine up to England. The Brit looked like he was about to protest, but figured that he'd feel better in the long run if he took it. Soon he swallowed the cough medicine, shuddered at the taste, then quickly took the juice from France.
"One more dose Angleterre...and this one's grape. It'll help your fever."
"I don't want anymore...the cough medicine was enough!" England said, rolling over to go back to sleep. When he was suddenly turned back over and into a sitting position by France, he groaned.
"Drink it. After that I'll let you go back to sleep. I promise." France said soothingly, bringing the medicine to England's mouth. England quickly swallowed it then drank juice again, before rolling back over and closing his eyes.
Finally satisfied, France tucked the blankets around England before taking out his cellphone and calling America, who he knew was worried about England as well.
"How is he?" America asked as soon as France called.
"It's the flu I think. He should be feeling better in a bit, I just gave him medicine." France replied.
"Phew...that's great. I sure hope he feels better soon. I have to get back to setting up the party though. Call if anything happens?" America asked.
"Oui, I promise" France answered. After that they both hung up, and France proceeded to sit on England's bed. He didn't try anything perverted, since he did have a heart and he knew England was very sick. Instead he began reading a book.
Things were quiet for about fifteen minutes. There was no noise except for Francis flipping the pages of his book, and England's muffled breathing. Suddenly the nation jolted awake, looking at France in confusion.
"Why are you still here? And in my bed nonetheless? I swear if you try anything..." England stopped mid sentence as an expression of fear took over his face. France immediately put his book aside, rushing to feel England's forehead.
"What is it Angleterre?"
Instead of replying, England quickly scrambled to get out of bed, stumbling his way to the door. France was quick to follow him after seeing England sway dangerously.
"What on earth is wrong? Get back in bed!" France yelled, until realizing England was trying to get to the bathroom. He cursed slightly under his breath.
It was too late, England fell to his knees and vomited all over the floor. Since he didn't have a lot of food in his system it wasn't much, but he did throw up the medicine. That made France curse as well, the medicine didn't have time to work properly, and it wasn't good if England couldn't keep it down.
France rubbed England's back while he finished puking. He knew how awful the feeling was, and gave England a look of sympathy when the Brit started shaking. Soon he was done and France gently walked him back to his bed, tucking England under the covers. He then went and got a glass of cold water, holding it to England's lips.
"Just a few gulps please. We don't want you getting dehydrated." France told him. England was much too sick to argue, and took three small sips. France frowned but didn't urge him to drink anymore.
Soon England was back asleep, but it wasn't long until England began to cough again. It sounded even worse this time, and when it lasted longer than thirty seconds France had to sit England up and rub his back to try and ease the coughing. England's eyes were teary, and he gasped. Not being able to breath was a scary thing, a thing that England didn't want to experience again.
France took his temperature again, and gasped when the thermometer read 105.
"That's it, were going to the hospital!" France said, standing up swiftly. England could only look at France without much expression, his eyes glazed over with fever. France quickly jogged downstairs, before returning with both of their jackets. It was cold outside, and France didn't need England getting any sicker.
He pulled the covers off of England, ignoring Arthur's slight whine. He then peeled of England's shirt, which was damp from the mixture of sweat and the water from the cloth. He went over to England's dresser, taking out a new clean T-shirt and pulling it over the feverish nation's head.
After that he got England into his winter jacket and then got into his own. France then scooped England into his arms, steadily carrying him down the stairs and out to his car. The whole time England was silent, on the verge of passing out.
"Stay awake Arthur...please stay awake." France whispered.
England closed his eyes and let darkness overcome him.
a/n: This will have one or two more chapters. I'll submit the next chapter asap if you review this one and tell me what you think! Btw, Merry Christmas everyone!