Alfred awoke the sight of a very angry Brit right infront of his face. He grinned and mumbled sleepily before his eyes shot open, and he screamed, for this was not a dream but reality.

"THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!?"

After an hour of shouting and squabbling, the Brit had the American down on his knees, against the wall. "Repeat after me, I am a bloody git for going into isolation when I am ill."

Alfred frowned. "Aaarrtttiiieee, come on! Don't make me-" Arthur moved his leg, effectively pushing the American's face into the wall. "OUCH OKAY OKAY OKAY, GOD DAMN IT ARTHUR, I WILL NOT GO INTO ISOLATION WHEN I AM ILL."

Arthur smirked triumphantly and moved away from the American, sitting in a chair and glancing down at him. "Good boy." He then proceed to let out a shriek of horror as the America slumped forward, void of emotion.

The next two hours consisted of the Brit pacing the room, poking the American and testing if he was alive by lifting Alfred's arm and letting it fall down. Alfred opened his eyes finally, staring at Arthur. "Fooooooodddddddddddddd."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless, hopping over to Alfred's fridge…..well, Alfred's empty fridge. He sighed and ordered one of America's famous i-can-get-to-your-house-before-the-police pizzas and shoved it in the American's hands. "Eat."

Alfred frowned at the force and coughed. He reached out for the pizza, leaned too far forward and toppled over and, in his attempt to get back up, rolled off the bed. Arthur chuckled slightly, before picking up the American bridal style and sitting on the bed, the American on his lap. He propped the American up by the wall, pushing his head back slightly, one arm around the American's surprisingly slender waist, the other reaching into the box to grab a slice of pizza. "Hm, say 'ah~' Alfie, come on, you're a big boy."

Alfred opened his mouth and chomped on the pizza. Arthur put the pizza back down, wiped Alfred's mouth, felt his forehead then repeated the process.

Alfred nuzzled into Arthur's side, the contrast between the cool wall and heart radiating form Arthur's body was playing with Alfred's already fuzzled senses. He ended up biting Arthur's finger, sniggering once he realised what he did. Arthur rolled his eyes and laid Alfred down on the bed, who snuggled up to Arthur's thigh, head planted on his lap. Arthur sighed happily, "you're so cute when you're ill, Alfie", leaning down to rest his forehead on Alfred's.

"Perverted ambassador, stop trying to touch me up when I'm sick."

And with that, Arthur threw Alfred out of the bed and into the wall. Who cares if Alfred's sick?