Roderich felt, quite simply put, sick. His head felt as though his skull had been smashed open with a frozen banana, his brains scooped out with a rusty spoon and what remained of his head crammed with cotton wool. He contemplated this self-made description for a few seconds and wondered what illness he had that had finally driven him to the level of crazy that the likes of Gilbert were proud of.

He couldn't get comfortable either. While he desired nothing more than to curl up beneath a thick blanket and sleep, his skin was hot and sweaty and he over heated in seconds, wriggling around as he attempted in vain to ease his agitation. To his disgust, heaps of used tissues were beginning to form around his bin, but he couldn't summon up the energy to clear them away. He sat on his sofa with a cushion, silently wondering if his pride and dignity were a reasonable price for dunking his head in cold water in an effort to cool down.

To his horror, there was a knock at his front door. Warring with responsibility Roderich reluctantly made the decision to get up, dragging himself to his feet and through his house to open the door. Arguing voice greeted him as he walked through the hall and he silently asked what cruel fate had decided it would be wonderful to send both Arthur and Francis together to his sick bed.

"Having blazing sunshine is only useful if you get rain with it, you absolute moron."

"Alas, you have no use for your rain because it comes without sunshine three hundred and sixty four days of the year."

"So explain to me why all imy/i plants are healthy while your lot all die in your ridiculous weather unless you put sprinklers everywhere."

"That is a blatant lie, you ignorant-"

Roderich opened the door slowly, intending on flat out telling them to leave.

"Ah, he is alive," Francis said cheerfully, slipping round Roderich and into his house. "We were worried."

"He wasn't," Arthur said, having the manners to at least wait for Roderich to make a reluctantly welcoming gesture before walking after him.

"We have graced your presence on strict order from Ludwig," Francis said, ignoring Arthur. "Well, I have. Rosbif is merely in your presence, ungraceful and obtrusive."

"Why he thought sending both of us was a good idea is beyond me," Arthur said over Francis' insult.

It wasn't beyond Roderich, even in his sorry state; Ludwig evidently wanted rid of both of them, neither reasonable in this mood.

"I certainly didn't volunteer to trek across the continent," Francis sniffed. "It's your duty as a igentleman/i though isn't it Arthur? To fetch all the absent nations of your poorly organised meetings. Or are you finally admitting that you are an incompetent host?"

"England, please don't," Roderich said weakly as Arthur made to lunge at Francis. His hoarse voice finally alerted the two squabbling nations to the problem at hand.

"Is this why you've not been around for the past few days?" Francis asked as he and Arthur took in his worn appearance.

"Yes," Roderich said flatly, leaning back against the wall as he groped in his pocket for another tissue. "So I'd appreciate it if you would leave me to recuperate. Thank you coming."

Francis didn't look as though he was against this suggestion but Arthur shook his head, expression something like appalled.

"Oh no. I'm not getting straight back on a bloody plane," he said flatly, eyes searching Roderich's face. "And when did you last eat?" he added, voice slightly accusatory.

"Nothing like inviting yourself into someone else's home to come off as a polite and considerate person," Francis chirped, ducking away as Arthur threw a punch at his face.

"Piss off," the Englishman snapped, and then paused. "Actually, do. Leave."

"What?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Go buy things."

"Rosbif, I am good but I'm not a mind reader."

"God forbid. Go buy something to eat from that supermarket the taxi man almost crashed into on the way here."

"What?" that was Roderich, who was very efficiently ignored.

"Why?"

"Because I'm hungry and I'm sure you are, not that I care. And Austria evidently hasn't been out of the house in days. So shoo."

"No," Francis said, though he could see the logic. It was his duty to disagree with Arthur. "You go."

"I don't have any of your currency on me, and you two both share it. Go."

"No, afraid I'll need a better reason than just your convenience."

Arthur glared at him for a few seconds then said, slowly as if it physically pained him, "You're better at shopping. Now go."

"A compliment, and admittance of my superiority? You must be-" Francis was promptly manhandled out the door, leaving Arthur and Roderich alone in the hall.

"What just happened?" the Austrian said weakly, wondering when he'd completely lost control of the situation and ended up with both of the two most argumentative nations in the world staying for dinner.

"The force was disturbed," Arthur replied, still looking wounded. "Now, you, march."

"What?"

"Where you in your living room?" Arthur was prompting him back the way he'd come, and down onto his abandoned sofa. Roderich relaxed into instantly, confusion momentarily forgotten.

"You're really not very well, are you?" Arthur marvelled, looking around the usually immaculately kept room.

"No," Roderich replied, following his gaze to the piles of used tissues and feeling his face flush faintly with embarrassment.

Not replying, Arthur gave him another searching look, and then turned away. Roderich leant back and closed his eyes briefly. The effort of concentrating was making him feel worse. When he opened his eyes again, about half of the tissues were gone and Arthur was scooping up the remaining ones and dumping them into a bag, faintly grossed expression on his face.

"You don't have to do that-" Roderich protested rapidly, but Arthur sent him a flat look.

"Don't be ridiculous. If you keep all these lying about, then you'll find it harder to get over the virus."

"But I-"

"Austria, just lie down and stop worrying I'm going to charge you for cleaning your house."

"I was not," Roderich said indignantly. Arthur smirked at him, and then disappeared out of the room with the bag full of tissues.

Giving it up as both a bad job and not worth it, Roderich resisted the temptation to follow Arthur's instructions to lie down, remaining stubbornly sitting. He wasn't keen on the idea of showing himself to be so weakened by a common sickness… He'd survived the Great Plague of Vienna for God's sake.

But still… He was tired, and Arthur wasn't making any obvious signs he was coming back; with any luck, he'd be making himself a cup of tea and would spare Roderich's feelings by keeping in the kitchen to drink it. Cautiously, Roderich lay back down, head cushioned on the armrest. After a few moments, Roderich pulled a sheet over him too, hoping to manage a few seconds of being comfortable before he over-heated again, reaching for the box of tissues with one hand. He'd gotten through another five when Arthur came back in. By this point he was too comfortable to feel his dignity being sullied.

"Here," Arthur said, offering Roderich the pack of painkillers that had been sitting in his kitchen since yesterday, Roderich lacking the energy even to get up and fetch them, and a glass of water.

Prising himself to be a little more upright, Roderich popped two of the tablets from their packet without prompting and swallowed them with the water.

"Finish that," Arthur instructed, leaving the room again. Roderich groped for a tissue, and blew his nose for the thousandth time, then took a sip of his water. He promptly choked on it as he sneezed mid swallow.

Arthur reappeared. "You okay?"

Spluttering, Roderich managed to nod then downed his water quickly to prove it. Arthur smiled faintly, looking amused. Managing a glare Roderich put the glass on the floor next to the sofa and leant back again, closing his eyes. They snapped open again a few seconds as something cool and damp was placed on his forehead.

"Don't knock it off, dopey," Arthur said from the doorway as Roderich automatically went to sit up, hand reaching for the cloth. "It'll bring help bring your temperature down- you've got a bit of a fever."

"I don't need babying," Roderich said on principle, relishing in the coolness of the cloth.

"Of course not," Arthur said, tone amused. "Everyone says that," Roderich heard him add.

Before he could respond, Arthur spoke again. "Try and get some sleep when the painkillers kick in. You look terrible."

"Thank you."

"No problem." Roderich heard Arthur leave the room again, dimly wondering what he was doing. His brain didn't seem up for thinking anything more complicated than that. Feeling his mind quietly turning off, Roderich shut his eyes again for the final time and a few minutes later fell asleep.

The first thing he registered when he woke up was that his headache had gone. The clarity of thought this gave him, when in comparison with how sluggish he'd been for the past few days, felt almost superhuman. Roderich sat up slowly, immensely grateful to the painkillers he'd consumed earlier when he experienced no head-rush. Looking around, he also noted with a faint sense of confusion that the room was cleaner. Somebody had finished clearing up the evidence of his sickness, as well as dusted every surface and swept the wooden floors.

"Ah, you're awake."

Roderich looked round to see Francis grinning at him from the doorway, looking entirely too amused for his liking.

"I see that-" Francis began but was interrupted Arthur all but materialised behind him and grabbed his collar, dragging him back out the room and shoving him in the direction of the kitchen, scowling.

"Keep your gob shut you prat," he snapped, coming back into the room. "Are you feeling better?" he asked with a sort of blunt kindness, and Roderich blinked at the abrupt change of tone.

"Yes," he replied, looking around the room. "Did you-"

"Here," Arthur interrupted, passing him the painkillers and another glass of water. "You've been out for a couple of hours, so you can have another two."

Roderich raised an eyebrow at the interruption- it seemed a little uncharacteristically rude- but did not comment, taking the tablets without comment. As he moved the glass away from his face, he started as he felt Arthur's hand on his forehead, glancing at the man standing above him as he waited for his verdict.

"Much better," Arthur nodded, sounding satisfied. "Frog-"

Francis reappeared, still smirking at some private joke, holding a bowl of something hot on a tray, a little mountain of bread next to it..

"Et voila," the Frenchman said cheerfully, expertly nudging Arthur out of the way to set the tray on Roderich's lap. "Chicken soup, none of that nasty pre-made powder, do enjoy the fact that this incompetent rosbif had nothing to do with its creation."

Arthur smacked him round the back of the head, then neatly side stepped the return blow as he went back into the kitchen. The sounds of a kettle boiling were heard a few moments later.

Roderich turned back to his soup, taking a spoonful of it and blowing. He glanced at Francis, who was staring at him fixatedly, waiting for him to try some. Dutifully, Roderich took a sip from the spoon and then raised his eyebrow at the Frenchman. Apparently taking this as confirmation of his culinary prowess, Francis grinned smugly and sat down on the sofa next to him, to Roderich's silent displeasure.

"Enjoying your time off?" Francis asked cheerfully, shifting to lean against the armrest and bringing his knees up to his chest and linking his arms round them.

"Not particularly. Being ill is rarely fun," Roderich responded, taking another sip of the soup and then putting down his spoon to delicately rip the bread into small pieces.

Francis shrugged. "Not having to attend world meetings often is," he countered.

Making a non-committal noise, Roderich dipped his bread into the soup and took a bite. Francis seemed content to stay quiet; looking slightly preoccupied with whatever was still causing him amusement. Keeping a wary eye on him, Roderich got through three more pieces of bread before Arthur came back in, moving towards one of the arm chairs with his back to them, cup of tea in hand.

"You didn't make me a drink?" Francis said, unfolding from the sofa and standing up. "How rude."

"I did actually," Arthur admitted reluctantly, glancing round at them. If Roderich's eyes were not much mistaken, Arthur was very faintly red. "But if you want it, you have to go get it," he added quickly.

This was evidently too much for Francis, who had pounced forward and looped his arms round Arthur before Roderich could blink. Arthur's own arms were pinned to his side and he was largely occupied with keeping his hot drink from spilling everywhere, leaving him effectively powerless.

"You are feeling maternal aren't you, mon petit lapin?" Francis said gleefully, ignoring Arthur's screeched insults that were hitting a pitch bats were probably uncomfortable with. He twisted Arthur round so they were both facing Roderich, who was attempting to continue eating his soup like there weren't two madmen in his home.

"Isn't he cute, Austria?" Francis chirped alarmingly, grinning like a hyena.

Roderich gave him a very flat look, before contemplating Arthur's furious expression. It was distinctly tinged with embarrassment.

"He gets like this sometimes when people need mothering, don't you dear?" Francis continued, skilfully keeping the frantically wriggling Arthur locked in place. "You were at your best when you had lots of little colonies to raise. You could be so sweet, like when you were little-"

Arthur jerked his head back to smack into Francis', who let go of him with a yelp of pain. Quickly, Francis skittered away round the back of the sofa. With a degree of appreciation for Arthur's respect for his furniture, Roderich watched mildly as he carefully set the cup of tea down. Where he feeling just a little bit healthier he'd be making more of an effort to stop them, but with the lingering remains of his flu, he couldn't summon up the energy to care.

"Oh, a great and fierce empire," Francis was practically cackling, "who will mother any!"

Arthur vaulted over the sofa, managing not to jostle Roderich in the slightest. Letting out a yelp, Francis rocketed round to the other side, keeping them in stalemate.

"If only you were always like this," Francis lamented, "You'd be much more pleasant company. Everybody's mother, cleaning up their houses, making sure they get their sleep, bandaging injuries-"

Arthur darted round the sofa; Francis moved the opposite direction and continued his teasing. Roderich consumed another piece of soup laden bread, wondering when the pain killers would kick in.

"-Helping them get home, comforting them through unrequited crushes, making them packed lunch-"

Francis broke off again as Arthur did another impressive leap over the sofa. The Frenchman hurtled out of the room, down the corridor and out of the house, having decided that pushing Arthur further would be very bad for his health.

Making a quite shocking snarling noise, Arthur made for the door. He paused, almost reluctantly, and turned back to Roderich. By this point, the strong painkillers had taken hold and Roderich was past caring about his embarrassment or anything else. He'd worry about it tomorrow.

"I'll tell Hungary that you've been sick. I'm sure she'll drop round," Arthur said a little awkwardly. Roderich nodded, finishing off the soup.

"Thank Ludwig for his concern," he said politely, remembering who had sent Arthur and Francis here.

Arthur nodded. "See you when you're well again," he said, disappearing from the door way. A few seconds later, there was the sound of the door opening and shutting, then a yelp- apparently Francis hadn't gone too far- followed by a car alarm going off. Roderich identified it as not belonging to him, put the tray on the floor, curled back up on the sofa, and went back to sleep.