It wasn't often that Finland got to spend quality one-on-one time with Ladonia. Sealand had been invited to spend a few days with Arthur and his brothers, Hanatamago was at a weeklong puppy festival/training camp organized by Ludwig, and Sweden was at the bar with Denmark and Norway, reminiscing about their old Viking days as they downed what Denmark called "king of all beers".

So mother and son kept watch of the house, and the night had passed remarkably enjoyably for the both of them. Ladonia helped Finland clean the house and fold laundry, and in return Finland bought the little boy a new video game at the store. Ladonia showed him how to play, and the two of them played the game for a considerable amount of time. Finland decided that Ladonia had been so good that he would allot him more time with his video games than normally allowed.

Finland rested his controller on the ground. "Gustav, honey, I'm going to tidy up my room, but you can play for 20 more minutes, ok?"

Ladonia yawned and set down his own controller. "Nah. I think I'm gonna go to bed."

Finland studied his son. The boy had hardly touched his dinner, whereas Finland and Sweden usually joked about his gargantuan appetite. And Ladonia never turned down an opportunity for more screen time. Finland chalked the boy's fatigue up to the fact that he had been running around with his cute little micronation chums the past few days, getting into all sorts of mischief.

The blonde smiled gently at Ladonia. "Ok, sweetie. Good night." He pressed a kiss to the boy's cheek, noticing that he didn't immediately wipe it off like he always did, and skipped off to clean his and Sweden's bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Ladonia, dressed in his favorite pajamas with little globes on them, shuffled into the room. "Can you tell me a story?"

Finland jumped, not hearing the boy enter. "Hi, my angel. Of course." He followed Ladonia back to his own room. Ladonia crawled under the covers, and Finland sat down beside him to begin his tale:

"This is a story from Papa's house. It's called 'The Old Man and Woman Who Switched Jobs.'" He proceeded to recount a silly story about a man who was fed up with all of the hard physical labor he did every day while his wife minded the house. Tired of her husband's complaints, the woman proposed they swap duties for a day, but they soon discovered that the other's work was harder than initially thought, and the day ended with a barrel-full of beer on the floor and the family cow on the roof, among other atrocities.

It was a nonsensical story, and Ladonia found himself giggling every so often at the couple's misfortune, Finland noting a disturbing cough accompanying his son's laughter.

"And never again did the man complain of his lot," concluded Finland. "The end."

"No sympathy for him," retorted Ladonia, crossing his arms. "He literally set himself up for that." Then came another harsh cough.

Finland patted the boy's back. "Easy now. Are you alright?"

Ladonia gave a big yawn in reply.

The blonde chuckled. "Get your sleep, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

The red-haired boy nodded and closed his eyes. "G'night."

But Ladonia wouldn't get much sleep that night, as he was awoken by a nasty feeling in the bottom of his stomach. He propped himself up on his elbows and took deep breaths to make the feeling go away, but a minute later clasped his hands over his mouth and raced to the bathroom.

Finland awoke to the sound of pounding footsteps from upstairs. He slid his feet into his slippers and made his way up the stairs to check on his son. The boy's bed was empty, the covers thrown off in haste.

"Gustav?" Finland scurried down the hall until he reached the bathroom, where his boy was hunched over the toilet, throwing up what little was in his system.

A worried Finland flipped on the light, and his heart broke now that he could clearly see the great pain that the little boy was in. He sat down on his knees and rubbed Ladonia's back as the trembling boy continued emptying the contents of his stomach. "Shhh, shhh, it's ok, sweetheart, just get it out."

Thirty grueling seconds later, Ladonia looked up with bloodshot eyes and streaks of tears down his cheeks. "I w-want Papa," he choked out.

Finland felt powerless to help his poor son. He wrapped his arms around him. "Papa will be home soon, baby." I hope, he added silently.

Ladonia burrowed into his mom's embrace, crying harder. "I want Papa!"

Finland rubbed his back in soothing little circles. "Ok, Gus. I'll get you all cleaned up and then we'll call him, já?"

Soon they sat in Ladonia's bed, Ladonia in his mom's lap, a mess of shivers, coughs, and cries.

The blonde rubbed his back. "Shh. You're ok. Can you calm down for me? Take deep breaths." He felt the rise and fall of Ladonia's chest as the boy complied. "There you go. Nice and easy. Slow deep breaths." Finland rocked him lightly to help calm him down. "That's a good boy. Now let's call Papa." He fished out his cell and dialed his husband.

Sweden's phone vibrated in his pocket just as Denmark was telling for the 56th time the story of how he wrestled a bear blindfolded. Sweden was glad for the distraction, and even more glad seeing it was his wife on the caller ID, probably calling to wish him good night.

But as soon as he answered, he could hear the heartbreaking sounds of his boy whimpering in the background. "H'llo? What's wrong?"

"Berwald, Gustav is sick and he's crying for you."

"I'll be right there." He hung up and slammed a generous wad of bills on the table. "Gotta go. Lad's sick."

Denmark frowned – a rarity for him. "Tell him we hope he gets better really soon. Give him a kiss for us."

"I will." Sweden nodded and bolted out the door.

Finland was still sitting on Ladonia's bed holding the poor boy in his lap when Sweden dashed into the room 20 minutes later.

"Papa," whimpered Ladonia, holding out his arms weakly.

Sweden swept the boy up. "Hush. You're ok," the man cooed. Strong, sturdy hands stroked Ladonia's hair and drew soothing circles down his back. "Papa's here. You're safe." He cast a worried glance at Finland. "Tino, what happened?"

"I don't know," Finland admitted. "He hardly ate his dinner and he's been coughing a lot."

Sweden pressed a hand to the boy's forehead. "He's warm. Finn, get the thermometer."

While Finland went fetched the item from the downstairs cabinet, Ladonia buried his face in his dad's strong chest. "Papa my head hurts."

Sweden petted the boy's soft red hair. "You probably have a fever."

Finland reentered the room and sat down beside his husband and child.

"Lad, look at Mama," instructed Sweden. "He's going to take your temperature."

The boy looked up with glassy pleading eyes at Sweden.

"I'll keep holding you," the man promised. "Just let Mama see if you have a fever."

Ladonia did have a slight fever – just shy of 100. His head hurt and his eyes hurt. And his stomach still felt funny. Sweden temporarily handed him back to Finland so that he could change into pajamas, and Ladonia let Finland give him some medicine, too weak to protest.

A pajama-clad Sweden returned to them and took Ladonia back into his arms, as per Ladonia's request. "Uncle Denmark and Norway say hi," he informed his son. "They hope you feel better soon."

"Me too," Ladonia said before he yawned.

"Get your sleep," Sweden advised. "You need it to get better."

They should have predicted what was coming next: "Can you stay with me?"

Husband and wife exchanged glances. "Just until you fall asleep," Sweden answered. "Is that ok?"

Another big yawn from a little boy. "Já."

They settled the boy under the covers and lied down on either side of him.

"Love ya, Gus," said Sweden, pressing a kiss to the boy's forehead.

"Rest well now, dear," added Finland.