I had no idea people like Vicks! I kind of want to try it again now and see if it's any better. Then again, I don't.

Anyway, thank you so much to the people who reviewed, favourited, and/or added this story to their alert list thing. I'm really happy there are people who want to read this. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but...yes, you can tell it isn't any longer. This always seems to happen. As it goes along, I get a little nervous that I won't be able to continue to entertain people. Oh well.

Also, I don't recall if I mentioned that I don't own Vicks VapoRub. Just covering my bases (not that I think it really matters).

Is this chapter shorter? I'm sorry.


Arthur scrambled backwards on the sofa, nearly falling over the top. "Alfred, you are absolutely not permitted to bring that stuff anywhere near me! I know how bloody much you love it and all, but it is vile!"

"It's the best way to make yourself feel better!" Alfred insisted, already unscrewing the lid of the jar. "Here, come here, I don't want to make a mess of your furniture, do I?"

"You don't want to make a mess of me, either!" protested Arthur. When he had decided to comply with Alfred's ridiculous wishes, this had not been among the things he had imagined dealing with. Nearly anything was better than that dreadful slime Alfred thought cured colds; something that disgusting and uncomfortable had to only make things worse. Not to mention the fact that it involved physical contact...

Alfred continued to advance, tossing the lid haphazardly to the side. Horrified, Arthur continued to attempt to get off the sofa and out of the room, and had nearly made it over the back, all the while trying to ignore the tickling of a cough in the back of his throat. A little further, and he would be able to run. Just when he thought he would make it, however, he was stricken by an all-out coughing fit, and a distraught Arthur slid right back to his previous position.

Grinning, Alfred stopped right in front of the Brit. "Come on, it will totally help with that cough of yours!" And with that little bit of reassurance, he shoved Arthur right against the back of the sofa, ignoring the cries of protest. It was only then, right in the clutches of an obvious madman, that Arthur noted the slightly wolf-like quality of that irritating grin. No, surely he was imagining it. This was Alfred, not Francis, for God's sake. He wouldn't...he couldn't. It just wasn't possible. Alfred was a sweet, adorable idiot, and that was all.

These poor attempts at rationalising the situation were completely derailed the moment Alfred straddled Arthur's thighs, still pressing him firmly against the sofa's back. Absolutely dumbfounded, Arthur could do nothing but stare at those mischief-tinged blue eyes that were entirely too close. He felt the heat in his cheeks spreading to the rest of his body. Oh, this was not good.

"Jeez, Arthur, you're so tense," Alfred said, still sounding innocent enough. Arthur, however, would not be fooled. As soon as Alfred removed his hand from his chest, turning to dip his fingers into the jar, Arthur began struggling, trying to shove the younger man off of him.

"This is completely inappropriate!" he cried, pushing and shoving. Unfortunately, all those burgers had made Alfred very good at weighing things down, and Arthur found himself unable to budge his attacker. The idiot merely continued to grin, leaning forward a little, fingers full of that disgusting gel.

With a sinking feeling, Arthur realised that his situation was completely hopeless. He would simply have to allow himself to be covered in that slime. At least he'd be able to wash it off, he figured, and really, Alfred was only trying to help. He was an idiot, yes, but at least a thoughtful one. Arthur sighed, resigned to his fate (again).

Alfred, however, seemed intent on not only curing Arthur of his illness, but giving him a heart attack, as well. He was not satisfied with simply rubbing his hands all over the smaller man's chest; no, of course he had to kiss it, first.

"It won't be so bad, Arthur," Alfred cooed, pressing a kiss right in the middle of Arthur's chest. Arthur's breath hitched at the feeling, and he felt his cheeks positively burning as Alfred sat back, grin still firmly in place.

"Th-that is it, Alfred! I will not have you coming into my house and...and molesting me like this!" Arthur reprimanded weakly, though his resolve was slowly crumbling. Damn those Americans and their...attractiveness. He closed his eyes, attempting to pretend the present situation was not happening; perhaps he was just having one of those blasted dreams again. Yes, that was it. He would wake up and everything...well, nearly everything would be fine!

Arthur's eyes flew open at the sudden feeling of something slimy trailing down his chest. Oh hell, this had been Alfred's plan all along, hadn't it? He had distracted Arthur with that bloody kissing stunt, and now he was administering the dreaded ointment. Arthur could only thank the heavens he was congested and couldn't smell the no-doubt strong smell of menthol and camphor that would accompany it.

He glared and momentarily forgot that gentlemen did not say things such as "fuck you, Alfred."

"Sorry, I wouldn't do it with a sick guy," was Alfred's response as he continued to smear the contents of the jar over Arthur's chest.

That was it. Arthur once again opened his mouth to protest; he couldn't make excuses for this kind of behaviour any longer. All these shenanigans were interfering with things that were actually important! Things such as work, and...oh, and things such as the hot lips that had suddenly covered his own, turning his attempted scolding into a sort of undignified—and muffled—yelp.

Normally, Arthur hated the feeling of that Vicks ointment spreading across his chest. He now found that it wasn't such a big deal, as long as he was distracted by a coughdrop-flavoured tongue making its way into his mouth. In fact, he no longer even noticed the gel, instead quite enjoying the feeling of those hands roaming over his chest. Why, no wonder people loved the stuff so much. It was an excellent excuse for a good snog. Arthur groaned into Alfred's mouth, pressing himself closer in an attempt to get more contact. Everything was turning out rather nicely, after all, he thought briefly, before his mind moved on to more important things.

Unfortunately, Arthur soon felt that horrible, awful, tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He tried to ignore it as long as possible. Why was it that something was always trying to distract him from his goals? First it was Alfred distracting him from his work, then it was his blasted cold distracting him from Alfred. Frustrated and no longer in the mood at all, Arthur took advantage of Alfred's distracted state to shove the American off of him, immediately breaking into a coughing fit as soon as his mouth was free.

Suddenly furious, Arthur stood up from the sofa, took a moment to catch his breath, and then pointed an accusatory finger at Alfred, who had landed painfully on the floor.

"You," he said, still sputtering from his fit of coughing, "Are an insufferable git!"

Alfred pouted. "I thought I was doing pretty good."

"'Well'," Arthur immediately corrected, then recalled his tirade. "And how dare you distract me like...like that!"

Pout increasing in intensity, Alfred stood up. "I was just trying to help! If you weren't such a stubborn old man-"

Oh, that had done it. Stubborn, maybe, but Arthur would not tolerate being called old. Fuming, he stalked forward, leaving Alfred looking satisfyingly stunned and terrified at the same time. He jabbed a finger at the broad chest in front of him.

"You are an idiot," Arthur snapped, "And I am not old!" He shoved Alfred back, back, back into the wall, glaring. "And you're nearly as sick as I am; why don't you apply that...that substance that you call medicine to yourself before rubbing it all over someone else!"

Arthur proceeded to slide his chest up against Alfred's while the poor boy could only stare, mouth agape.

"Take your bloody 'VapoRub' back, you prat," growled Arthur, not caring that he was probably not handling the situation in the best way. All he cared was that he get the gel off himself one way or another, and...well, this didn't seem to be such a bad way to do it.

When it seemed he had rubbed the majority of the stuff back onto its rightful owner, Arthur (slightly reluctantly) stepped back, scowling. Hoping he looked threatening enough to avoid some sort of retaliation for this latest stunt, he stared at Alfred, arms crossed, daring him to say something.

Wisely, Alfred said nothing.

No, he simply began to laugh instead.


I still feel awkward writing things like this. Lalala. Actually, I feel awkward just writing fluffy things, so I don't know why I'm doing this at all.

I lost the rollll I was on, so this took a little longer than the others. Also, I am horribly tired. Hopefully, this will be all finished soon, because I really, really hate when it ends up dragging on forever because I'm an idiot who keeps getting new ideas.

Anyway, I hope nobody was disappointed with my writing, because I'm not going to bother going back to reread it and see if it makes sense. Yes, I'm lazy.

Next time:

Soup and probably cuddling.