(( Heyo, sorry for the delayed update. I had a little trouble coming up with ideas, and I've been studying for finals. Ugh…

There should be another 2 or so chapters of this. I never have a plan when it comes to the number of chapters I make in a story. It just sort of happens.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the next installment! Chapter 3, commence! ))

:::

America quietly peeked through England's bedroom door. It was almost 11 in the morning, and he hadn't seemed to move much since the first few times Alfred checked up on him. He would cough a bit, but not wake up.

He crept over to Arthur's bedside, retrieving a thermometer from his pocket. Hesitantly, Alfred poked his side to see what sort of reaction he would receive.

Nothing.

Worriedly, he readied the thermometer and gingerly stuck it through Arthur's lips. Alfred held it there, not willing to find out if it would stay there by itself.

He just sat there, on the edge of the bed, staring at England.

"You're always wrapped up in being a bloody hero! It's annoying!" Though, his voice was slurred from the influence of alcohol. Namely, at least 5 bottles of beer.

"Hahaha, you know that's untrue!"

"It's true and you know it!"

"Will you pay attention to me? Stop playing around with that!"

America laughed.

"I'll make you pay attention to me-"

Alfred winced slightly, remembering what ensued after that 'promise'. Though, he couldn't help but crack a slight smile. England was so forward at the strangest times.

He then sighed, remembering the full two weeks where he hadn't heard from Arthur. The whole time, Alfred had wondered if he was avoiding him from being ashamed or embarrassed of what he had done. He knew there was a chance of England not remembering anything in the morning due to how thoroughly drunk he was. But two weeks was a long time to not hear from Arthur.

It was really distressing to find out that he was actually sick that entire time. And that he didn't tell America about it. True, he asserted the fact that he was just as independent as the younger was. But after contracting another illness after his immune system was recovering from the flu… America felt a little bit hurt that England didn't let him know. Being a hero, he was ready to help just about anyone in trouble.

Before getting too lost in his thoughts and reasoning, Alfred withdrew the thermometer from Arthur's mouth. He didn't seem to notice a thing, but gave another cough or two.

102.1 degrees F. It wasn't 105 anymore, but it was still wasn't good. If this kept up, Alfred would have to take him back to the hospital.

Lightly, he shook Arthur's shoulder to try and rouse him from his sleep. "Wake up. You have to take your medicine," he quietly said.

After a few seconds, he opened his eyes to warily look at Alfred.

"Are you hungry?" America asked. Arthur slowly shook his head.

Had he lost his appetite again? "I might have to take you to a doctor. Is that okay?" Alfred pressed, getting a pill from the bottle on the bedside table and the waterbottle he had left there.

Although he didn't say no, he didn't look very happy about the prospect of that happening. Though, he compliantly let Alfred put the medication in his mouth and help him drink the water to wash it down.

"I feel gross," he finally said in a cracking voice. He was a bit sweaty. "I want to take a shower…"

"That's not a good idea right now. You could hurt yourself, and you should let your fever go down first." He looked even unhappier now, from being told what to do.

Although, maybe drawing a bath wouldn't be such a bad idea. "Hold that thought," America said, determinedly. He rushed off out of the room.

About ten minutes later, the bathtub down the upstairs hall was filled with lukewarm water. America pulled England's shirt off for him as he gave a shiver, then went to pull down his pants. "You can handle the rest now, right?" he asked, fully realizing that there was a slight blush on his own face.

Arthur nodded, now only in his underwear.

"I'll be outside. Just yell if you need anything, and I'll come flying to your rescue," America said. He left the bathroom, leaving the door slightly cracked open. Taking a seat outside nearby, he could hear the other getting into the water while trying to keep from coughing too much. Hopefully it would cool him down a bit.

About ten minutes has passed now, and Alfred was starting to worry a bit. What if Arthur had passed out and drowned?!

Making up his mind in no time at all, he got up and threw open the door while saying, "I'll save you!"

Though, he froze after realizing that nothing bad had happened in his absence. England was just dozing off a bit, relaxed back against the tub. Alfred sighed. So much time spent resting in bed, and he was still falling asleep everywhere.

Noticing some shampoo still stuck in Arthur hair, Alfred rolled up his sleeves. He cupped some water with his hands and dumped it on the spots with bubbles, rubbing the soap out. Either England didn't mind, or he didn't notice. Finally, when he was free of clinging shampoo, America reached to pull out the drain plug. He couldn't help but note that Arthur was still in his underwear.

Now that most of the water was gone, he grabbed a nearby towel to dry off his friend. Arthur grumbled a bit when America was being a bit too rough in drying his hair.

With a smile, Alfred loosened up a bit. He wrapped the towel around England's shoulders and helped him stand up.

"Do I need to carry you again?" America teased. He was prepared just in case that needed to be done.

"Again?" Arthur let out, looking confused.

"You were asleep last night, after all," America thought aloud. "You sure couldn't get up the stairs to your room yourself." He grinned goofily.

A deep blush spread across Arthur's face as he pouted in embarrassment. He stepped out of the tub on his own and followed Alfred down the hall back to his room.

As America went through the drawers to get a fresh change of clothes, England weakly dried himself off more. He was given some new pajamas and underwear, then left alone to get dressed.

"I want to watch tv," Arthur asserted, leaving his room to run into Alfred in the hallway. He gave a few deep coughs again.

Alfred was going to suggest a bit more bedrest, but then remembered the few times when England nursed him back to health when he was younger. I want to play. I want to go outside. I want some cake. I don't want to stay in bed. I want you to tell me a story.

With a bit of a smile, he answered, "Sure."

They made their way downstairs and to the living room, where England made himself comfortable on the couch with the remote. He then noticed America holding out the thermometer to him.

"Do me a favor?" he asked pleadingly.

With a groan, Arthur took it and stuck it under his tongue while turning his attention to a program on about the history of Monty Python.

When he handed it back, Alfred read the temperature to himself. 100.4 degrees F.

It looked much better than before. Arthur still sounded sick, but at least his fever wasn't as high.

"I'll go make some lunch," America offered.