(For those of you wondering why I'm not having them just have some medicine,it's for plot line reasons, and the fact that the Battle of Britain was in the 1940's)
Alfred's P.O.V.
I watched England fall into the pillows on the bed;man he must be exhausted. "Are you hungry, Iggy?" I asked, hoping to get some kind of reaction from the nickname . He shook his head, or tried to, the headache stopped him. He didn't even tell me to drop the nickname.
Remembering the relieved sigh France got from England as he placed his hand on his forehead,I went to to get something. France and England glanced at me on my way out, their eyes questioning me. From the look on his face, I'll bet that Iggy thought I was getting a hamburger. Definitely not. When England had been sick that one time, I had meant it as a joke. I'm not an idiot, that only works on aliens.
I came back into the room holding not a hamburger, but a cool, damp cloth, and some water for Britain. Hopefully it will make him feel a little bit better, at least until China can get here. Let's see... two or three days to get there, one to be there, and a few more to get back here. So... about a week at the most. Poor Iggy, the only thing that is really going to make him feel better for good was help. Not medicinal help, real help on the battlefield.
I coughed lightly, still not quite over the great depression. France looked at me in concern. I rolled my eyes and gave him a grin. I am fine, there's nothing to worry about, except for Britain. Speaking of him, the Brit was on the verge of falling asleep now. I looked at him, and gently placed the cloth on his frowning, overheated face. Although not even fully conscious, he let out a sigh of contentment, and drifted off. Not wanting to disturb him, France and I left the room for the time being.
"Amerique, are you feeling well?" France asked me, trying but failing to mask his concern. "Yeah, dude I feel fine." I grinned before I felt my body betray me with a sneeze. France raised a questioning eyebrow as I sniffed before I gave e in. "Well... mmostly. I mean, I have a ton of trade routes with Britain, and he can't exactly send my people stuff when the capital is being bombed. But it's mostly just the depression my economy has had for a while. I honestly don't see anything 'great' about it. At least my boss got rid of the isolationism, that was boring." I said this with a grin, trying to mask my real feelings about the isolationism my country had been in for the past several years. Sure it was boring, but it was also lonely and sad. Being all by yourself when you needed help the most was stupid. Not even Canada had visited much. But back to the question France had asked. Well, I feel pretty tired, despite having gone to bed earlier last night, but I wasn't about to let France know that.
"China should have the stuff for Arthur in about a week at most. I hope be can hold out that long." I tried to change the subject in hopes of France forgetting my slight illness. Unfortunately, it worked a bit too well. "Arthur, Amerique?" I internally smacked myself, 'Crap,' I hadn't called him that in front of other nations since before I became independent. I blushed and answered nonchalantly, "Iggy, Britain, whatever. It's what I called him before... You know." France nodded sympathetically.
He was about to respond before we heard coughing coming from the other room. I ran there quickly and saw England sitting up in bed, his whole body being wracked by deep coughs, and he couldn't seem to stop. I stared in shock, it sounded even worse than in the meeting room. France pushed past me to help England. I instantly felt guilty, I should be helping him, not standing in the way. He is my big brother, and I need to help. I went to go sit next to him, rubbing his back and speaking softly to him as France got him some more water. He seemed to have trouble getting his breath back afterwards, because even a few minutes after the coughing stopped, his breathing was still shaky and a little fast, like he'd just ran a marathon. "Sorry for... being such a... bother," he said in between breaths. "S'okay Iggy." I paused to cough a bit. "You're not a bother. We just want you to get better." I say this truthfully. It's kinda sad to see my older brother in such a bad condition. Hopefully he would feel better when China got here.
I yawned, taking care of a sick person while feeling slightly under the weather myself is surprisingly tiring. England sneezed a few times, covering it like the gentleman he is. I sneezed as well am moment later. He gave me a weird look, but strangely didn't question me. Instead, he closed his eyes, and seemed to be going back to sleep. I put the cool cloth back on the sweetly sleeping Brit, and left the room. Since France was still in the room, I guessed it would be fine if I turned in early. Even though it was only 8:00 PM, I felt tired. I had been feeling a bit out of sorts lately, so it would be nice to get in a few more hours of sleep. I was reassured by France's nod when I told him I was turning in early. I went to the bathroom and took a quick shower before going to bed. Before I left, I checked my own temperature. About normal as of recently, maybe a bit higher, but nowhere near as bad as Iggy's had been earlier. Then I went to bed, falling into a mostly peaceful sleep for the remainder of the night.
England's P.O.V.
As soon as America left the room, I opened my eyes. Spotting France, I motioned to him. "What is it, Angeleterre? Do you need something?" He asked gently, none of his usual teasing in his voice. "Is America okay? He seemed sick or something." I had decided to ask France, knowing that I couldn't trust the kid to give me a straight answer. Was my battle somehow affecting him? "Oh, Amerique is fine, he is just getting over the last of that depression his country had. It's apparently not quite done yet. I nodded, thankful that it wasn't too serious. France went to be shortly after Alfred had left. I was grateful that his house had so many guest bedrooms, it meant that nobody had to sleep on the couch.
I heard the noise of a door creaking shut. Strange. I thought both of them had gone straight to bed. But apparently this was not true. I slowly got up, my head spinning for a second. I walked over and peeked through the slightly open door to see Alfred coming out of the bathroom, something white in his hand. The white thing was a thermometer. Alfred coughed into his hand, returned the thermometer back to the bathroom, and went to bed. I decided to investigate.
I crept out of the room, sneezing a few times on my way to the bathroom. I closed the door to the bathroom, and turned on the light. The light was blindingly bright for a moment, making my headache spike. I looked at the thermometer which still had America's recorded temperature. Even if he had remembered to clean it off, he had thankfully forgotten to turn it off. It said 101.3 degrees Fahrenheit. I calculated it to Celsius in my increasingly aching head. Not good. Only about two degrees lower than when France had checked mine. I put the thermometer back and stumbled out of the room. As I was walking, I felt suddenly dizzy. I stopped for a moment, and tried to clear my head, but it only seemed to get worse. My head swam,my legs buckled, and then everything turned black.
