The Monday after their trip to the beach, Matthew came down with the flu. And Alfred, of course, had attempted to get out of school by claiming that 'his frail little brother needed all of the care and attention a hero could give'. Sadly, he'd already attempted to pull that trick once before, and when one of their teachers had stopped by with homework, she'd discovered Alfred playing Black Ops at top volume while Matthew attempted to sleep. So when he'd called the main office to report that neither one of them would be coming in, all he got was an earful of 'Get to class!'

As he walked out of the apartment towards the car, Alfred saw Feliciano and Lovino walking towards the school, and jogged to catch up with them. "Hey! You're in Mattie's classes right?" He asked, slapping the younger twin on the back, making him yelp in pain.

"Mmhm." Feli whimpered, tears springing into his eyes as the sting spread across the burn.

"Think you could bring his homework back to our place after school? I've got practice."

"What's wrong with him?" Lovino asked, knowing his brother would ask if he weren't currently suffering deeply, and would likely complain later if he didn't ask for him.

"He caught the flu sometime between yesterday and four a.m. this morning when he started puking his guts out, which was nasty, by the way, I'm never cleaning that shit ever again."

"It's good to know you have your brother's best interests at heart, Jones."

"Same to you Vargas. So you'll take the stuff to him, right?"

"Ve~! No problem!" Feliciano seemed to have gotten over the pain running along his back, just in time for Alfred to clap him on the back again.

"Thanks man! See you!"

The American hurried back to his car, and Lovino turned back to his brother. "Oh come on, stop crying."

"But it hurts!"

"I told you to put on sunscreen, didn't I?"

"You're mean Fratello…"

"Hey! I bought you some stuff for your burn."

"Yeah…"

"Then quit whining. You'll remember to get Mateo's work from art?"

"Yep! I'll get that and the history stuff, can you get the rest?"

"Yeah, yeah." Lovino muttered, now slipping into a deep thought, trying to figure out what classes he had with Matthew (even though they now sat together in chemistry). He'd never really paid attention to any of his classmates, let alone the little Canadian who gained about as much attention as white rabbit in a snowstorm.

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"Ve… Fratello, how're we going to get in?"

They were standing in front of the apartment, arms filled with extra notes, and worksheets. With an irritated sigh, Lovino dumped his armload onto Feliciano, and flipped up the corner of the welcome mat, (Alfred's idea, judging by the copious amounts of red white and blue paint splattered across it) to reveal the spare key. "Have fun." He said, unlocking the door, and swinging it open.

"You're not coming in too?"

"Of course not! I don't wanna catch whatever he's got!"

Then Feliciano turned that pout towards him. The one that not even the legendary stony façade of Ludwig Beilschmidt could say no to. Not even Lovino, who'd been raised around that pout could refuse it. He rolled his eyes, and followed his twin into the apartment. "Fine. But if I get sick, it's your fault."

"Alright! Then I'll take really good care of you."

He looked about to snap something about that not making him feel any better, but instead turned to the empty apartment, and bellowed, "Mateo? You in here?"

"Fratello! He might be sleeping!" Feliciano whispered, looking horrified.

But still, a small voice fluttered from one of the bedrooms. "No shit."

"We brought your work from classes!"

"Thanks. Just leave it on the coffee table."

The apartment they stood in was identical to their own, in every way, except for the coats and papers left sprawled out across the couch and chairs in the living room, likely left by Alfred, while Feliciano made sure theirs was always clean. Probably because he didn't want Ludwig to have a seizure every time he came over.

The tile in the kitchen was the same pale white, same black appliances, granite countertops, and white cupboards. Same island separating the kitchen from the living room, with cupboards hanging above it, and bar stools beside it. Same beige carpet, and dark brown couch, with two matching chairs kitty-cornering it, and a long coffee table in the middle, which was where Lovino left the notes that he took from Feliciano.

"Okay! See you when you're better!" He called, and turned to leave, only to be confronted by Feliciano's pout again.

"We can't just leave him like this."

"Uh… yes we can."

"You're horrible! Go check on Mateo, and I'm going to make him my special get-better pasta."

Lovino grumbled unintelligibly, and continued on to the far hall, and turned right. The first door was labelled ALFRED in massive letters on a sign, emblazed with eagles and aliens. The farther one had Matthew's name written in the same lettering, probably more of Alfred's handiwork. The American seemed to have this need to make everything in the apartment as unique as the rules would allow.

"Mateo? I'm coming in. You'd better not be contagious."

Without waiting for a reply, he walked in the room.

It was a stark contrast from the main space. Everything was immaculate. Binders were stacked neatly on the desk next to the computer, and a jar of pens sat on the corner. Several hockey posters were tacked to the wall, which didn't surprise Lovino at all somehow. What did surprise him, was the seat he had at his deck instead of the usual chairs. It was a large stack of cushions that looked suspiciously like pancakes. Despite that, everything looked good enough to pass a military inspection.

Well, except for Matthew himself, who was a curled up lump underneath the dark red comforter. Any military higher-up would've beaten him black and blue for that, sick or not. "You alive in there?"

"Yeah, yeah." Matthew mumbled. His voice sounded like it was sliding through sandpaper. "But I do have a fever, so I'm probably still contagious."

"No?" He began sarcastically. "And here I would've thought you'd be fine after having the flu for a little over twelve hours."

"You should see how quickly Al can bounce back. It's insane."

"That's because idiots don't catch colds, remember?"

"But this isn't a cold. It's the flu."

"You know what I mean."

"I guess so… what's that sound?"

Lovino glanced out the open door to the living space, and turned back with a smirk. "Feliciano is making you pasta. I'd recommend finding a good way of hiding it so you don't throw up all over the place, seeing as your idiota of a brother isn't going to clean any of it up."

Almost the very mentioning of pasta made the blond go faintly green, and he burrowed back down under the covers. "Tell him I went to sleep or something."

"That's what you should be doing anyway."

"Well I was until you started screaming like I was half a mile away."

"Alright then, I'll get out of your hair. You need anything before we head out?"

"Maybe some water?" His voice was already becoming foggy with sleep as his eyelids became heavier, and breaths slowed.

"Sure." He walked out of the room, and found his twin in the kitchen, humming brightly as he dug through cupboards for a box of pasta, which was evading his sight.

"Fratello, I don't think they have pasta." He said in a horrified whisper. "There's none in here!"

"Well you can bring some over later, Mateo went back to sleep. I'm just going to leave him a glass of water for when he wakes up."

"Ve… won't he be hungry?"

"No, Alfred stopped by with lunch, and he's bringing chicken soup home tonight." The lie flew out easily, and without another word, Lovino grabbed a glass, filled it from the tap, and headed back to the bedroom.

"Here you go Mateo…" He set the glass down on the bedside table, and then looked up with a sigh at the blond's face. It was a furious shade of red, and his breaths were coming out in short pants as he slept. "Idiota. I asked if you wanted anything, you could've asked for a wet cloth." Just to check, he reached out to touch his forehead. He could feel heat radiating from the teen before he even touched him.

Still muttering, Lovino started towards the bathroom, grabbing a facecloth from the linen closet as he went.

"Fratello! Aren't we going?"

"In a sec!" He flipped the cold water on, and waited until the cloth was thoroughly soaked before removing it, and returning to the sleeping Canadian, folding the cloth as he went.

"Lovi I thought you wanted to…" Feliciano's voice faded as he walked into the room, and saw the blond's condition. "Does Mateo have a fever?"

"No shit!" He snapped back. "Why don't you run over to the bathroom and see if they've got anything for it. Then we'll just leave him with that."

When Feliciano didn't move right away, he turned to question why, only to stop at the oddly wide grin on his face. "What's wrong with you?"

"You're being so nice Fratello!" The younger gushed, ruffling Lovino's dark hair affectionately. "You don't do that very often!"

"What the hell are you going on about now?"

Feliciano didn't answer, but he did turn to go search the medicine cabinet as he was asked, now with a new reason for his cheerfulness.

Elizaveta would be really happy to hear about this new turn of events, he just knew it. It would definitely make up for his annoying her a few days before.

He'd also found some Motrin. That was also a pretty good reason to be happy, in his opinion.

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Thanks for reading~!

Oh hai there obligatory fever chapter! You always manage to bring out the loving side of asshats like Lovi. Now, if you'll excuse me it's time for me to scuttle off and finish the next chapter in a blind panic.