The Best Doctors

Rating: K+

Warning: Fluff, flirting, and hot guys in doctor coats :D

I wrote this about a year ago when I was sick. But I wouldn't mind being sick if the Bad Friends Trio took care of me. ;) I don't own APH – just my OC!States.

XXX

Spain looked around the meeting room without interest. No one was getting any work done, but what else was new?

France and England were engaging in war across from him. ("For the last time you wanker, I'm the more perverted one!" "Angleterre, you only wish you were as skilled as I am." "Oh bugger off, how many girls can you get with that scraggly thing that cannot even be called a beard?" "More then you, naturally.")

Russia was attempting to scoot away from Belarus who had a death grip on his arm while Ukraine sobbed about how she could never see her siblings.

And meanwhile, America had jumped into France and England's argument, "You both are pedo bears old men, no argument needed!"

Not even Lovi was around to provide a distraction. Damn.

Glancing away from the everyday chaos he languidly gazed off into space, thinking of his fields and the recipe for stuffed tomatoes Feliciano had given him a week ago.

Austria was telling about how he had perfected his performance of Chopin's Piano Sonata No. 3 in B Minor to anyone who would listen including the state of California who was sitting next to him, drink tray in front of her on the table. Spain's eyes glazed over her and then did a double take.

California was curled up in the chair next to the aristocrat, wearing a blue tank-top with small white stitching on the edges, black denim shorts, a white knit long sleeved cardigan, and a weak smile. Deep blue eyes had a tired glimmer and while Spain watched in worry, a series of coughs racked her body. When she was done she started shaking, eyes closed.

Abruptly rising from his chair Spain went over to his former charge, fatherly worry riddling his face. "Francesca, mi adormidera, are you okay?" California didn't have a chance to answer before a light mocha colored hand was on her forehead. "You're warm! What happened?"

His hand felt so pleasant California immediately leaned into it. Opening her eyes halfway she groaned, "Budget cuts."

"You poor thing," he cooed lightly stroking the side of her face. "I'll get you some steamed milk."

Quickly exiting the room Spain travelled to the kitchen of the Sacramento meeting building. Anxiously yet efficiently getting the necessary supplies he poured the milk into the pot and turned up the heat.

While Francesca didn't look as bad so far he knew from past experience that her condition could get worse and fretted over the possibility.

Tasting the milk to see if the drink was done he poured it into a glass satisfied with the temperature and snatched up a blanket that lay haphazardly on a chair in the kitchen.

California looked up from her sick-induced sleep as her former caretaker placed a warm cup in her hands.

"Mi adormidera, I also got you a blanket," slipping unconsciously into Spanish he laid the blanket on her lap and carefully bunched it, gratified when she gave a croaky hum of thanks.

He put a hand to her forehead and frowned. No doubt about it, she was definitely warmer than when he last checked.

France, who had stopped arguing with England once America got involved, noticed Spain in mother hen mode fussing over California who was curled in her chair like a cat. He swooped down on them like Italy on pasta, "What is this, cher Antonio?"

"Ah, Francis," Spain gave him a welcoming smile before returning his attention to Francesca, "it seems as though California's sick."

Said state stirred at the sound of her name and looked up at him again. In her sickly haze, she noticed another man standing next to her papa, a man with blond hair and deep cerulean eyes.

The Frenchman, unable to resist, immediately leaned down and pressed his lips to California's forehead, keeping them there much longer then necessary. "I believe Spain is right; you are ill. Here, let me help you…"

He wrapped the blanket around her legs even more, deliberately resting his hand on her blanket covered thigh and slowly sliding it downward. Moving some blonde locks away from his face he leaned in.

"Do you want me to help even more, mon ange d'or?" he whispered huskily into her ear.

"Mmm…" too tired to figure out what he meant she let the tenor of his voice start to lull her into a soothing trance.

"Francesca?" Spain's voice brought her back. "I brought you some more milk," he placed it on the table, "and another blanket it you need it."

California wasn't sure when she drank her first glass. Wow, she must be sicker than she thought. "Gracias papá," she yawned.

At that moment Prussia sailed through the door like one of Alfred's navy ships, Gilbird on his head and a cocky smirk on his mouth. Seeing his two friends he strutted over, "The awesome me is in the house!"

Upon seeing California he stared, saying soon after, "Gott, you don't look good."

California started to laugh and then winced, "Gee, thanks." She took a sip of steamed milk.

Spain looked at the drink tray in front of her, "Francesca, you're in no shape to serve drinks at the meeting today, I'll take you back to your house," he informed her firmly yet tenderly.

"I'll come too," France said with a grin.

"Count me in," Prussia's epic face was blinding.

"Gracias mi amigos," Spain smiled gratefully at his two friends.

California protested, "But Papa, you, France, and Prussia can't miss the World Conference."

"What meeting?" Prussia snorted, "According to West I can't attend them, not that I let a little thing like that get in my awesome way." The cocky smirk was back two-fold.

"Besides," volunteered France, "it's doesn't look like anything's going to happen at the meeting anyway."

As if to prove his point, Czech Republic and Slovakia started punching the crap out of each other, shouts and yells forming a mini war in the middle of the meeting.

"You idiot!" Czech Republic spat out while landing several punches to Slovakia's face.

Slovakia performed a very nice jumping kick to Czech Republic's stomach, "Who are you calling an idiot!"

It didn't help that Denmark, wielding his axe, also joined in the fray, "Whoo-hooooo!"

California gave another feeble protest, "But—"sneezes sent tremors through her body.

"No buts," Spain looked at her with pity, "you're going home to have a siesta."

France ran his fingers through Francesca's elbow-length straight golden hair, "Don't fret mon ange, Doctors France, Spain, and Prussia will take care of you so you'll return to your beautiful, vibrant self."

Prussia perked up at the doctor line and jauntily winked at the sick state. "And we won't take no for an answer!"

"Piyo~" Gilbird apparently agreed with him.

California took Prussia's advice and didn't protest when Spain lifted her out of her chair and into his strong arms. She leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes gratefully. She reveled in his warmth and his scent—tomatoes and sunshine. Suddenly she was transported back to when she lived in Spain's villa as a little girl; the memory of being held safe in his arms as he carried her to wherever the destination may be.

Spain, Prussia, and France crept out of the meeting with California in tow, unnoticed by the other countries who were desperately trying to break off the fight between Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Denmark.

France pulled up in front of California's house and got out of the car like a born model, blond hair blowing across his face in unfurling locks.

"Must you always look like a Gott-damned girly-man?" Prussia had managed to entangle himself in his seatbelt as he fought to get out of France's car.

With a dramatic sigh the Frenchman leaned over and pressed the button that released the seat belt. "At least I don't look like a haphazard, old soldier after a night of pounding beers."

"Old? I'll have you know that beers aren't the only thing I can pound."

"France, Prussia," Spain gathered California into his firm and comforting grip and drew her out of the car, "play nice."

With Spain leading the way the Bad Friends Trio made their way up the walkway of California's house to her patio.

"Mmmm," her sickly moan alerted Spain to his former charge. The Golden State fumbled in her shorts pocket and held up her house key.

"Gracias mi adormidera," he said gently as he unlocked the door.

Greeted by Carlos, California's chocolate Labrador, the Bad Friends Trio entered her house, dutifully being followed by Carlos, who made sure that his mistress was all right before trotting off to resume his bone chewing, faithfully watching all proceedings.

Closing the door Prussia looked at the décor appraisingly, "Nice digs, but it'd be more awesome with me in it…oh wait," he grinned, "it is!"

"Prusse," France looked at the Prussian aghast, "how can you talk about yourself when Francesca is sick?" He couldn't resist glancing around himself though, "Hmm, very chic."

Shaking his head in amusement, Spain put California down in comfy arm chair in her living room. "Francesca, where would you like to have your siesta?"

"My room would be nice," she managed before coughing.

A wink was performed to France by Prussia, "Your room? Where is it by the way?"

She coughed pitifully and pointed, "That way…"

Prussia promptly dashed out of sight and upstairs. They heard him rummage around for a little while, before crowing victoriously, "Found it!" He raced downstairs and tossed a long white garment to Spain and then to France, keeping one for himself.

"Brilliant mon ami," France smirked and swiftly pulled the article on, "These are from Halloween, no?"

Spain looked at his in delight. "I was wondering where I left these! California must've found them and kept them here until she can give them back to me."

"Wha…?" California looked up from her seat and nearly fainted from her blush.

The Bad Friends Trio was dressed as doctors, long white coats flaring with every step they took.

Spain's coat was embroidered with a little tomato on the pocket and it set off his lovely tan all the more wonderfully. He caught her staring and did a dancer's twirl for her benefit, the coat flaring out perfectly.

France's coat pocket had a rose embroidered on it and as she watched, he wrapped a stethoscope around his neck and winked, placing a hand in his pocket and pulling out a real rose, which he presented to her with a flourish.

Prussia's coat was embroidered with a fluffy little yellow bird to match the one residing on his head. The sunlight coming in through the window made his hair glow with white gold streaks and made his eyes burn crimson.

In short, they all looked so handsome that California's brain nearly short-circuited.

"Uh…" she began, "My room…siesta…" just then a shiver sent her body shuddering as she wrapped the cardigan more tightly around her.

"Don't worry California," Prussia grinned broadly, "I'll take you there! After all, I'm more then awesome enough for the job." He scooped her into his arms while talking and went upstairs to the second floor with Spain and France behind them.

California smiled, feeling Prussia's body heat, and rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes happily.

He reveled the feeling of her in his arms and looked down at the closed eyes of the Golden State. "So," he purred, "who do you think is the most awesome doctor?"

Laughing to himself, he watched her eyes pop open at his question. Clearly she wasn't prepared to be asked such an awesome question. "I-uh-um…" she stuttered, sick brain not able to process the question given by the gorgeous albino doctor.

He chuckled once more and awesomely kicked the (luckily unlocked) door to her room open and carefully placed her on the edge of her bed, the rest of the Bad Friends Trio filing in, Carlos bringing up the rear.

"Don't worry mon ange," France lifted the stethoscope and placed it on her heart, "Doctors France, Spain, and Prussia will make you feel better."

"I'm sure of that." She said quietly.

They proceeded to swarm around her like fairy godmothers.

Spain removed California's cardigan, "So you won't be too warm while you rest, although personally I didn't think it was doing you much good anyway."

France sidled over just as his Spanish friend completed his action. "California, if you please…" he gently pressed down on her shoulders until she sat down on her bed's edge.

Looking down at her with a smirk he slowly went on one knee and removed her shoes with a flourish, never taking his eyes off her. With a satisfied expression he rose, subtly placing a hand on her knee and tracing it with his finger, and placed the black flat boots by her bed.

Prussia ran over with a thermometer in his hand. How he got a hold of it, California decided not to think about it.

Leaning down to give her the full blast of bedroom crimson eyes, he murmured huskily, "Francesca, say ahh."

California turned her head away and, for good measure, threw a blanket over her mouth, peeking at him with her blushing cheeks and her deep blue eyes.

Mouth gaping open, all that Prussia could comprehend at that moment was, Cutecutecutecutecute…

France swept over with a mildly reproachful air. "Gilbert, I don't think you need a thermometer to tell how sick…" A light bulb went off in his head and he grinned. "Oh, you naughty ex-nation."

He lifted California off her bed and placed her in it, far enough so she could touch her golden hair on the pillows. She did just that.

"Thank you France," a shot of tiredness injected into California's words.

Prussia, thermometer forgotten, made sure she was comfortable, fussing over her as if she was a little Germany. "You need to tuck in the covers Francis! Yeesh, didn't all those years of caring for Canada give you any experience? California shouldn't thrash around while she's—oi, Frenchie, hands off the merchandise!"

Blissfully unaware of his comrades, Spain remained by her side and stroked her hair. "Go to sleep Francesca," he switched to tracing patterns on her face with a single finger, "I'll make some hot soup for you."

A pleasant chill went through California's warm body when she felt the movements of her former caretaker's finger on her face. "That would be great, si."

The light mocha skinned Spaniard put his head close to hers, "Then that's what you'll get, my little adormidera."

Kissing her temple and standing up he beckoned to the other two, "I'm going to make Francesca some soup so she can have her siesta."

"We'll come with you." Discreetly removing the hand on Prussia's butt France made a quick step over and bent down to caress California's heated cheek. "Dormes bien Californie." Landing a kiss on her forehead he kept his lips there until he was yanked out of the way by Prussia.

Grinning down at California, his crimson eyes glinted. "Get some sleep so you can be almost as awesome as me!"

He unexpectedly leaned down so his breath ghosted over her ear, "And I will take your temperate when I come back." With a wink and one finger salute the ex-nation promptly went out into the hall where his friends were waiting. "Prussia has left the bedroom!" he called.

California watched Spain gently hush his friend—"Francesca's trying to sleep mi amigo"—and softly close her door behind him.

She snuggled deeper into her bed, sinking into the silky sheets. The sick feeling made her close tired eyes while a sigh issued from her mouth, remembering the feather-light touches and kisses the doctors had given her. She was about to fall sleep when…

"California girls, we're unforgettable, daisy dukes, bikinis on top…" rang out from the night table.

"Ughh." Reaching over to pick up her cell phone she grunted while getting into a sitting position and flipped it open, "Hello?"

"Hola girl, how's it going?"

A smile that was weak, happy, and exasperated all at once came to her mouth, "What do you think Rafael?"

The state of Florida laughed, "It's going badly – that's what I think. Hey, Nikki's on the line too."

New York made herself known, "How do you feel Francesca?"

"Terrible." Putting a hand to her forehead she winced at her fever which had definitely increased from the World Conference and inwardly groaned.

"No kidding. What's the problem?" California and New York heard the clink of a bottle being set down on Florida's end.

"Budget cuts," moaned the Golden State.

New York shook her head, "How awful."

"Tell be about it Nikki. I really hate the government right now." She envisioned herself pummeling her senators and representatives to pieces and felt a little better.

Florida gave a bark of laughter, possibly imagining her vision. She couldn't be sure.

"But you know," lying back in bed California smiled slyly, "it's not that bad when you have the Bad Friends Trio taking care of you—dressed as doctors."

New York gaped and let out a slightly choked, "You're kidding!"

California's laugh changed to a hacking cough before she was able to speak again, "Y-Yo no lo soy. Papa, France, and Prussia have been fussing over me ever since papa saw me at the conference. You would've thought I was royalty."

"You lucky state," Florida said half joking, half serious. He took a swig of his Corona Light beer.

While the conversation was going on California's chocolate Lab Carlos got up from his place in front of her door, bone firmly in his mouth, and padded over to lay down at her night table. His mistress scooted to her right side and switched phone-holding hands.

"Florida, you just want the Bad Friends Trio to fawn over you," New York smirked whole reading over an official document.

"Nikki," Francesca used New York's nickname, a shortened version of her full name, Nickolette, "you want the same thing." Dangling her right arm to pet Carlos she smirked at the indignant noise her older sister made.

Florida snickered, "Perhaps not as much as I do though," he took another sip of his beer.

California and New York laughed until the Golden State started coughing.

"We should let you get some rest," New York said seriously, hearing the hacking coughs over the phone.

"Si," Florida agreed, "call us back after your siesta."

"I won't be able to. Papa Spain said he'd be making some tomato soup for me during my siesta so I can have it when I wake up," California's siblings could hear the bragging in her sickened voice.

Florida shook his head, "Adios you lucky state."

After they hung up California placed her phone back on the night table. "How can I be lucky when I'm sick because of budget cuts?" she moaned settling in among the covers once more. "Stupid government…"

She thought back to Spain fussing over her like when she was his little colony, to France and his whispered assurances that he and his friends will make her feel better, to Prussia and his glowing hair and smoldering eyes.

"Because the Bad Friends Friends Trio is here to take care of me," she snuggled deeper into the covers and closed her eyes, beginning to fall asleep with a smile. "And that, I think, makes being sick a littler sweeter."

XXX

Denmark leaping into a brawl with his axe is something I can totally imagine him doing. Reviews will make me happy. ^^ I'd love to know what you all think.

Translations

Spanish: Mi adormidera – my poppy

Gracias papá – thank you papa

Gracias mi amigos – thank you my friends

Si – yes

Hola – hello

Yo no lo soy – I'm not.

Adios – goodbye

French: Angleterre – England

Cher – dear

Mon ange – my angel

Mon ange d'or – my golden angel

Prusse – Prussia

Mon ami – my friend

Dormes bien Californie – Sleep well California (informal)

German: Gott – God