"Say 'aaah~'!"

"I will not."

"Ve…come on, say 'aaaah'!"

Ludwig scowled at the spoon being offered to him—that is, scowled as much as his stuffy nose and sore throat would allow him. He really did appreciate the Italian trying to help him out…but he had not fallen as far as to let someone feed him. He was a grown man, and he would feed himself.

"But I'm just trying to help! So Germany should say 'aaaah~' for me!"

"I-I will not!" The blush on his checks was all from the fever, or at least that's what he told himself. The German pulled the blankets up to his nose, looking away from the brunet. He knew he was being childish, but he…he still had his pride. "I-I…I will feed myself, thank you for the offer, but I'm fine."

Feliciano's pout rivaled Ludwig's scowl; he dropped the spoon back into the soup bowl, shaking the German's shoulder ever so lightly. Ludwig could be so stubborn! "Come on, come on! You need to eat something, Ludwig, or you won't get better!"

The German tried to stifle a cough without much success, brows still furrowed. "I will eat, I never said I wouldn't. I'll be fine, I can take care of myself!"

"B-But, Ludwiiiig!"

Why was Feliciano crying? Ludwig wanted to tell him that shaking him wasn't going to make him feel any better, but thought against it once he risked a glance at the teary face, letting out a sigh. "I'll be fine. I just need some sleep, okay?"

However, Feliciano hardly looked convinced; even when the German had been sneezing the day before, the brunet acted if Ludwig had been much worse than he was, following him all day and jumping to help at every turn. And now that he was actually sick, the Italian was fussing even more, to the point of forcing Ludwig to stay in bed.

But he had so much work to do…it was just a cold, there was no reason to make such a fuss.

"Ve…but you should eat something before going to sleep! Come on, just one bite, at least?" The spoon hovered toward the German again, Feliciano smiling sweetly, tears gone in a blink of an eye.

Ludwig kept his lips firmly closed in response, once again scowling at the spoon.

The Italian was unfazed by Ludwig's resistance; he leaned closer, almost crawling on top of the blond in order to get closer, swirling the spoonful enticingly. "Come on, Ludwig! Say 'aaaah~'!"

"F-Feliciano, you're going to get soup on the bed!" He mumbled through pursed lips, sitting up to scoot away from the ever-taunting spoon.

Feliciano plopped back down in his chair, pouting at the blond. "Ludwiiiiig, I just want to help you get better! I even made this soup! Soup always makes me feel better when I'm sick!" He began to squirm, tears once again peaking at the corners of his eyes. "V-ve, L-Ludwig is being mean! I-I just want to help!"

The German couldn't help but think that all of this crying and noise wasn't going to help him get any better, either. He let out a sigh, smoothing back a few of stray strands that had fallen over his forehead, thinking for a moment. He could just yell at Feliciano to leave, taking the spoon from him and scolding him for being so silly by a sick person's bedside.

"…a-aaah…" But instead he complied, closing his eyes and opening his mouth wide. There was never any use in arguing with the Italian.

"Ve~"

And he supposed, as his heart thumped in his chest with every new spoonful (which he blamed wholly on the illness), it wasn't that bad being fed.