Fever
AN. I've never really attempted to write Hetalia friendship fiction. Mostly I aim at Gintama but oh well, it should be nice to attempt something new. Please tell me how I did.
Summary: New Zealand comes down with a fever, but the rest of the world is too busy dealing with communist attacks, heatstroke and… koala porn? Australia x New Zealand.
~X~
August in America was nothing short of torture. The unforgiving sun baked the ground dry so that it split open like a lizard's cracked skin, gaping up at the sky as though begging for sweet rain. Alfred Jones groaned feverishly as he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling of the musty barn. Why must it be so hot? Wasn't he located high enough up north? Shouldn't he be close to the icebergs at the North Pole? Asides Matthew, wasn't he the next closest thing to the ice? Right? Right. Wait—that made sense didn't it? Of course it didn't. Nothing else made sense anymore in this sweltering heat. He could only close his eyes for now and hope that the heat would go away… maybe if he went to sleep it would leave him alone… just maybe…
He was woken up a few minutes later by the phone ringing shrilly, punching sharp holes into his eardrums. For a moment he just lay there, not knowing whether or not to feel annoyed or angry or relieved that at least someone was going to break that irritating, forever-lasting song of the cicadas' CHIIIIIIRP, CHIIIIIIRP. He also wondered if he should get up and answer it. For all he knew, it may be Arthur on the phone, shouting his eardrums away about how hot it was in England, people are dying from the heatstroke and is it any better there up in America, you Hamburger-Bastard? Perhaps it was Mattie, sweet ole' Mattie, who was located further up North and feeling in the mood for a baseball game so that he would unfreeze his fingers and toes? Or maybe it was Ivan, wanting to start up another Cold War? That'd be a good idea, Alfred decided. Cold War = cold = no more heat. Yeah, that was awesome logic wasn't it?
So with this kind of stupid reasoning in mind, Alfred Jones finally got off his lazy arse upon the fifteenth ring (God, whoever this was, they were awfully patient weren't they?) and stumbled his way over to the phone, which was blissfully located only a few feet away and picked it up, coughing a little at the dust that had settled in the speaker.
"Hello, this is the Hero speaking."
"America?" A faint voice spoke at the other end. This was definitely not Arthur or Ivan. Maybe it was Mattie. "Hello? I'm—"
"Ah, Mattie!" Alfred said, pretending to beam with enthusiasm until he realized that Mattie couldn't quite possibly see his face anyway. "How are you, dude? Must be pretty warm for you in Canada as well, eh?"
There was a faint coughing sound from the other end. "Actually, I'm New Zealand—"
Alfred stopped in the middle of telling Mattie that he wasn't in the mood for a baseball game. "Oh, hey, Zealand," he said, the cheerfulness dropping a little from his voice. "What's up? Still alive and kicking down there, yeah? Haha." He chuckled at his own joke.
New Zealand's response was to cough a bit before making a weird sound that was a close imitation to laughing along with Alfred. "Um, yeah," he mumbled into the phone. "Actually, it's really cold here—"
"Naaw, Zealand, if you want to fool someone, I'm certainly not an ideal choice!" Alfred wiped away the drop of sweat sliding down the side of his face from the irritation of dealing with such nonsense. "It's friggin' ninety-five degrees (36 degrees Celsius) here, you know? How is it cold?"
"Well," New Zealand replied in that barely audible voice while doing the mental math conversion in his head, "it's only five degrees here (41 degrees Fahrenheit) so—"
"Hey, man. That's going way too far," Alfred snapped. "You're telling me that while the sun is shining like hell out there and it's only nine degrees over where you are? That's below freezing point. Give me a break and stop messing about—why don't you go out into the fields and look after your sheep and cows and kiwifruit?" he prompted, trying to sound nicer than he felt at the moment.
(Because realistically, 5 degrees F = -15 degrees C. And Alfred, his mind being too fogged up by the heat plus his arrogance about the world geography, forgot to do some math and logic.)
Just then, something dense smashed through the window and Alfred only ducked in time before it blew a gigantic hole into his desk. Still holding the receiver, Alfred whirled around to see Cuba standing in his lawn, holding three more baseballs.
"Oi, Mattie!" Cuba hollered at Alfred. "What about some baseball?"
"I'm not Mattie!" Alfred roared back at Cuba and returned to the phone. "Hello? New Zealand?"
But then he saw that the baseball had just killed the phone. And Cuba's second baseball was ready.
~X~
New Zealand held the phone to his ear breathlessly, listening to the sound of glass breaking before the line going dead. Just perfect, exactly what he needed right now. Alfred had been something like his last hope—first he had phoned his father England, but the Briton had people to bury back at home and wasn't in the mood to listen to his colony. Australia was either out or didn't want to pick up the phone—the last quarrel had left both Oceania brothers steaming at each other and neither really wanted to talk to each other ever again. And now America was probably being killed by Russian terrorists or something. New Zealand flopped back into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.
Oh yeah, he thought, trying to compromise with himself. The rest of the world is facing disasters like communist attacks and heatstroke and koala porn—all of which matter more than just a slight fever, right?
… right?
~X~
So, like his idiotic brother Alfred, New Zealand held to this ridiculously optimistic thought and dragged himself out of bed.
~X~
When his bare toe touched the cold floor of the bathroom he instantly thought about jumping back in bed and sleeping until midday, when there would probably be a sun. But one glance outside at the grey clouds and pouring rain told him quite clearly, Hey bro, you're out of luck today. Sorry.
Trust him to inherit the British weather from England as well.
By the time he'd manage to convince himself that the weather wasn't really that cold and that everything would turn out to be fine, there was a flash of lightning across the dark sky and all the lights went off. Something banged loudly upstairs, causing him to flinch violently in fright and his head smashed against the staircase. Blinking stars from his eyes, he almost lost his balance because the floor was unbelievably wet due to a hole that had opened up in the ceiling during the night and hurriedly grabbed onto the coat stand to steady himself. For a minute, New Zealand stood there clutching at the stand in complete darkness, standing perfectly still while listening to the thunder rumble out across the fields.
At that moment, he wanted to do nothing else more than to crouch down in a corner and cry his sorry eyes out. His head pounded both from the bump and the fever, and his nose was still running freely like the Waikato River. His chest felt like something was pressing it down—either that or his lungs weren't working properly. Not to mention that his house was going to flood into a second Lake Taupo if he didn't do something about it soon. And if he delayed his farm chores any longer, the sheep and cows were going to starve, and then hey man, look what's going to happen to the economy! New Zealand slapped himself mentally and threw open the front door before he could procrastinate any longer.
~X~
Before England came along, both brothers had been living peacefully together, isolated away from the rest of the world. New Zealand had always been afraid of thunder and lightning, and as the duty of an older brother, Australia would be there to hug New Zealand tightly against his chest until the storm had passed. But after the British came, the brothers began to gradually drift apart, seeing less and less of each other, although Australia would always be phoning New Zealand to see how he was doing, to see if his "little brother" was coping with the disastrous weather he tended to get.
~X~
New Zealand blew into his cupped hands, shivering all over. His teeth chattered so hard that had he been in a better situation, he would have laughed at himself. Keeping his head down and slipping multiple of times in the mud, he finally reached the cowshed. Fumbling for the keys with his number fingers, he could barely get the key into the hole, they were trembling so much. At last the old wooden door swung open and the warm stench of the cowshed hit him full in the face.
"Hello Daisy," he greeted the cows each by their names in a dry, hoarse voice as he dumped the silage sloppily in front of each cow. "Hello Rose, 'Morning Leaf, Orange, Parsley, Clover and Hay…"
The only response he received from the cows was a disgruntled moo, a wet nuzzle and lick on the cheek. After he had changed the bedding and made sure there was enough water, he locked the shed once more and proceeded to the sheep.
Like the cows, some glared at him through irritated eyes while some bleated happily at his scent as New Zealand entered. Just as he was about to start feed the sheep however, he noticed that there was a small disturbance in the flock. A few began to make frightened, scared noises while the rest began to move around uneasily. New Zealand's blood ran cold—what was it that was causing the sheep so much terror? Abandoning the dry grass, he snatched the rifle that always hung beside the door and ran back outside into the pouring rain to see the source of fear.
Outside, the cold hit him like a thousand pins and needles and he almost dropped the rifle. Squinting around blindly, he could make out only a few odd shapes in the distance. Was it predators? He could faintly hear the sound of sniffing and barking coming from the edge of the farm but could still see nothing even as he wiped the rainwater away from his eyes. Maybe they were loose wild dogs? New Zealand tried to think of a creature. Wolves? Nah, that was unlikely. Possums? Those possums that Australia had brought over were nothing but pests and—
New Zealand's eyes suddenly snapped open. Of course, what else could it have been? More of Australia's dangerous pets—wait scratch that, they weren't pets anymore, they were pests. Now that he listened more carefully, he could just make out the sound of dingoes—incoherent yapping and dark shadows that were drawing closer. His grip tightened on the rifle; if they were dingoes then he would shoot them, no matter what. Suddenly a wave of sickness washed over him and he almost slipped again. Even as he tried to regain his balance, the ground began to spin from beneath his feet and he had to grab onto the shed door for support. When he tried to focus again on the target, his eyes began seeing doubles.
The shadows gradually came close enough to be visible to New Zealand. He saw a familiar height and build, squelching through the mud towards him as well as the five or so dogs that ran around him, licking at his clothes. The well-known scent drifted to his nostrils and all of a sudden, Australia was standing before him.
~X~
"What are you doing with that gun, New Zealand?" Australia asked, pausing in his tracks when he saw what New Zealand was holding. There was something very strange with the way that his younger brother was looking at him; it was disturbing. He looked bedridden and pale, and his eyes weren't focused on him properly. Was it because of the lightning and thunder? Australia recalled clearly how New Zealand always hid in England's closet whenever a storm came, and how he was always the one to climb in there after New Zealand to comfort him. There was another roll of thunder in the sky and Australia saw New Zealand's shaking hands. He reached forwards to take the gun, but stopped when he heard a small click.
"Are you all right?" Australia asked cautiously. He could hear New Zealand's shallow, laboured breathing despite the heavy rain that was beginning to make it hard for him to see his brother. Was he even thinking properly? Sure, they had just been through one of their biggest quarrels in centuries, but surely that silly argument wasn't even close to enough to kill your sibling? "Aoteaora?" he breathed. At the mention of his original name, New Zealand lowered the gun a little, although his knuckles were already fading to white from clenching it so hard. Australia tried again. "It's me," he said in a soft tone. "Australia. Your brother, remember?"
What happened next surprised Australia. New Zealand suddenly collapsed to his knees in front of him, the rifle clattering loudly onto the ground. Australia began to kneel cautiously, still wary of New Zealand's actions, but a pale, shaking hand grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to a level so that he was staring at New Zealand directly in the eyes. He was held like that for a moment before New Zealand spoke.
"Australia?" he stuttered through almost blue lips. "I-I'm sorry about—"
But Australia pulled his brother's cold body close to him. "What are you talking about?" he batted away the apology. "I've gone temporarily deaf and can't hear a single thing you're saying, bro." He lifted the smaller up—he hardly weighed anything in his arms—and kissed him on the forehead.
"I'm just glad you're safe, that's all."
And then he turned and began carrying New Zealand home. Just like they used to be.
~X~
Now that Australia thought about it, they'd been fighting about a pretty pointless thing.
Only last week, the brothers were on the way home from a fishing trip when Australia was halted by one of his koalas on the road. New Zealand, being New Zealand, knew how much pets meant to Australia, left for home first for Australia to deal with his pets' problems.
"I'll come over later!" New Zealand had called over his shoulder before leaving Australia behind. "What about a game of rugby later?"
"Yeah," Australia had agreed, waving his brother off before kneeling down to the koala. "What can I do for you, Mr. Gum?"
As it turned out, 'Mr. Gum' was worrying about the least of things.
"I can't find a mate!" Mr. Gum wailed in that dreadful tone. "I really want one this season but nobody wants me for some reason!"
"Don't cry!" Australia panicked when Mr. Gum began to sob. "I-I'll try and help you, all right? I have the perfect thing for you!" Even though he had absolutely no idea how to help, he couldn't bear the sight of Mr. Gum crying like that. Mr. Gum looked up hopefully with coal-black eyes shimmering with tears.
"T-Thank you! But h-how?"
And three hours later, Australia found himself sitting at home with the curtains drawn at three o'clock in the afternoon and the television screen showing Koala porn, Mr. Gum watching along with him in his lap.
"Are you sure this will help me?" Mr. Gum asked, staring at the screen in shock.
To be truthful, Australia didn't even know what he was watching. "Um… sure!" he said, wondering how on earth koala porn had come into his possession. "They use this err, everywhere in the world for endangered species!" he invented wildly. "See, even New Zealand watches aah, stuff like kiwi and tuatara porn!"
"I don't believe it!" Mr. Gum gasped. "Your little brother watches animal porn as well? I thought he was underage, isn't he?"
"But of course he does! He's only a few months short of being eighteen after all!" Australia laughed uneasily, slapping Mr. Gum on the back and hoping that New Zealand would never hear about this. His brother never, ever watched porn (actually, only Hong Kong and America secretly watched porn during the weekends with the blinds drawn when England thought they were sleeping in late). "You know how his kiwis are dying out? So um, he gathers them in crowds in his bed at night and watches kiwi porn with them! Yeah, that's right! Just relax, everyone denies it, all right?"
So Mr. Gum finally settled down, having his guilt proven wrong and all was quiet for a while. The koala porn wasn't something Australia would admit to like watching, especially under conditions when there curtains were closed and the room was stuffy and it was quite uninteresting, but it seemed to be making Mr. Gum more and more excited by the minute. That is, until—
"Hey, Australia?"
Australia jumped a foot high into the air (even with his bum on the floor) as New Zealand came into the room with a rugby ball—why hadn't he bothered locking the door in the first place, dang it? "I phoned you and you didn't answer the phone or the door so I just came in and—"
He stopped in his tracks and stared at the screen. And then began to laugh, hard. Australia could feel his face turning a deep shade of red as New Zealand clutched onto the side of a nearby table, tears streaming down his face.
"Um, this isn't what you think it is, New Zealand," he managed to stutter out, his excuses being drowned out by New Zealand's laughing. "It's well, highly educational for Mr. Gum who's just about to eh…" He coughed in an embarrassed manner, but just as he was about to deny more, Mr. Gum opened his mouth.
"Why are you so surprised, Zealand? I thought you watched kiwi porn all the time."
~X~
New Zealand stopped laughing and stared at Mr. Gum. That cute, teddy-like koala! So adorable, so innocent! But what was this that he was saying?
~X~
Mr. Koala couldn't understand it either.
"But he said that the kiwis were dying out everywhere," he insisted, pointing at Australia in that innocent way. "So he said that you gather huge crowds of kiwis from around the country at night in your bed and watched kiwi porn!"
AN: The word "Kiwi" can refer to the Kiwi Bird. It can also refer to New Zealanders in general.
New Zealand stared at his brother. "Huh?"
Mr. Gum could tell that something was very wrong. Was it his fault?
~X~
"Listen, New Zealand, it's not like that!"
"Then what is it?" New Zealand snapped, pushing his brother's arm away and flinching away at his touch. "What sort of, 'kiwi porn' do you expect I watch anyway? Or are you perhaps implying that there is a second meaning to the word 'porn'? Does it mean 'sex for preschoolers' by any chance?"
"No but—"
"Oh, just leave me alone!" New Zealand clawed at the Australian's strong grip on his arm. "What don't you just go home and watch more educational videos and I'll go home to watch more kiwi porn? You are the biggest git I've ever come across!"
He suddenly bit down on Australia's hand, hard. Surprised, Australia let go of him, causing him to fall to the ground from the sudden release. Australia bent down to help him up, but instead his hand was slapped away.
"Aoteaora—"
"Don't call me that!" New Zealand hissed angrily, getting up clumsily in his anger. He turned around and stormed towards the open gate. Australia swore that he heard a faint sob as his brother disappeared down the driveway.
~X~
New Zealand awoke to the midday sun shining into his face. Blinking the soft rays away, he tried to remember where he was. He groaned mentally as memories from the past day floated back to him… there were the cold, and the rain. And thunder as well as lightning. He shivered a bit at that, and then tried to sit up but found that there was a heavy weight on his legs.
"America!"
Alfred lifted up his head from the covers and blinked a few times. "Five more minutes, Iggy—I mean, huh?" he mumbled sleepily. Then his eyes snapped open. "Zealand!" he almost shouted, throwing his arms around the nation and hugging him so tightly that New Zealand had to gasp for breath when he was released. "Are you all right, dude? Mattie said that you were going to die of 'Sheep Influenza' but I don't know what influenza means! Is it edible?"
New Zealand pushed America away, too tired to tell him that influenza was just another word for the flu (and after all, he doubted that he'd know what the flu meant). "Yes, it's edible," he sighed, wrapping the blankets around him tightly. America stared down at him for a few seconds before going to the door and throwing it open.
"OI, MATTIE! OZ! IGGY! ZEA'S AWAKE AND HE SAYS HE'S ALL RIGHT AND THAT WE'RE ALL GOING TO HAVE SHEEP INFLUENZA FOR DINNER TONIGHT!"
"Oh, quit your yapping," England snapped at America as he pushed past Canada into the room, face creased with worry and annoyance. He hurried over to where New Zealand lay on the bed and began firing questions off. "Are you all right? Are you sick? Are you hot? Are you cold? How are you feeling?"
New Zealand barely had any time to reply to these questions before somebody large and extremely heavy bounced into the middle of the family and onto the bed, narrowly missing New Zealand's legs. Said person then proceeded to give him a noogie and crush him in a bear hug.
"Gah! Oz, let go of me!"
"Bro, are you out of your mind!" Australia demanded in his usual unruly tone, although New Zealand could hear his voice cracking and felt his shoulder becoming faintly wet. "First you walk out on me by false accusation, try to kill yourself and then tried to kill me when you failed!"
"And you're going to kill me if you don't get off the bed right now," wheezed New Zealand, deaf to Mr. Koala's claims of oh no, it wasn't a false accusation, was it? Australia finally got off New Zealand after the logic kicked in and stood back to allow him to sit up. The room was quite empty by now; perhaps England had thought that a little brotherly unification would suit the both better. New Zealand glanced at the floor, not know what to say. It was all rather embarrassing.
"Oz, I—"
He was interrupted by Australia's kiss on the nose. "I don't want to hear it," he said, brushing the half apology away. For a moment, he looked almost sincere and mature—well, more mature than New Zealand had ever seen him look anyway. Then the familiar look of mischief and trouble swiftly dominated that.
"You and I. Out to the bars. Now." He jerked a thumb towards the door. New Zealand stared at his brother for half a second, and then smiled.
"Race you there!"
"Not fair! I'm not running there in my pyjamas!"
"There will be unicorn porn, courtesy of England!"
"What kind of temptation is that?"
Outside, with his ears pressed to the door alongside America and Canada, England sneezed. Perhaps a little too soundly.
AN
GAH this took forever to write. I knew it would. 2 months exactly passed between the writing of the first sentence and this. I suck as a writer—so not very productive at all.
Reviews are treasure to a writer *u* I've made up a goal to reply to every single one that I get :D
Thanks so much for reading!