"Umm, Ludwig?" A small voice came from the other side of the cherry wood door. Blue eyes fluttered open in time to see the door crack open, a pair of big brown eyes filled with worry looking down at him. The German was speechless, turning in his bed toward the wall and away from the innocent eyes. He knew if he looked into the damned Italian's features he knew his heart would soar.
Pulling the blankets over his head, he nuzzled down furthur into the matress and pillows. Soft foot steps approched from behind. The oposite side of the bed sunk in, now being occupied. A warm hand stroked over the blankets, pulling away the thick fleece showing short locks of blonde. Fingers teased with the ends, and massaged the others scalp. The feeling was nice, inticing, and relaxing.
"You know.. You'll never get better if you don't eat.." The Italian whispered softly, leaning over to place a sweet peck on the German's head. Smiling, he stood.
"Veh~ I'll be back with some pasta~" He trotted out, closing the door softly behind him.
Pulling the blanket off his sweat figure, Ludwig sat up looking almost dumbstruck at the door in which the Italian went through. A strawberry hue stained his cheeks at Feliciano's words. Smoothing his hair back, he sighed, the room spinning slightly from his fever.
After climbing back down into his nest, he thought over all the things he need to do once he was better. Planning out training schedules for Kiku and Italy, Cleaning the house again, focusing on work once again, but all he had right now was the Italian staying in his home. He knew the japanese man would be over in the next day or so requesting the new forms for the lastest military weaponry he had come across from one of the other nations but all in all, that would have to wait until another time. When he was better.
Hopeful, the thought of the Italian making a call to Kiku about his health and awkward situation could give him more time to work on it.
A wave of nausea rolled throughout the German's body, the nasty bile rising in his throat threating for him to up-chuck. Breathing heavily from his nose, he covered his mouth, really not fond of the idea of vomiting. Calming down he felt the stickiness of his sweat ridden tank top stick to his chest.
Moaning in displeasure, he tossed and turned, a flash of cold overcoming him. He hated being sick. He had no idea how he'd gotten to be this ill in the first place. Emiting a small curse he covered himself once more, and the door clicked open softly.