Italy's lower lip trembled for a moment and Romano held his breath. "No, Ita…" If he cried it might upset Spain in his feverish state and make everything worse. But once Italy let out a little pained squeak Romano knew the floodgates had burst. The younger Vargas started crying and protesting. "B-big brother Spain don't-a die we need you!" He shook Spain's shoulders and the sick nation was only saved because Romano saw the greensick look begin to appear on his face.

He grabbed Italy by the collar and spun him around to face him. "Don't make-a things worse, stupid!" He turned back to Spain, who was starting to look a little crazed again and struggling to sit up, and cursed under his breath. "Come on, tomato bastard, you're just-a makin' yourself sicker," he sighed, pushing Spain back down with very little effort.

"T-Toro…?" Spain's voice was weak and confused, not to mention rusty from disuse. Romano sighed and looked at Italy, sitting on the edge of Spain's bed. "Fratello, get-a the tomato bastard a glass of water."

"Si!" Italy sniffled away the last of his tears and gave a little salute, walking downstairs to the kitchen. Romano grabbed the thermometer and tucked it in between Spain's lips again, feeling an odd burning sensation in his eyes and the need to sniffle. Dammit, was he getting sick too?

Spain's eyes fluttered back open just then and he tried to talk around the thermometer. "L-Lovi?"

"Don't-a talk when I'm taking your temperature, stupid," Romano said, noticing that his voice suddenly sounded thick. And don't call me Lovi, he thought, but actually didn't say so.

"But-but you're crying…" Spain choked a little and shut his mouth obediently.

"Crying? I'm not-oh." Romano felt the wetness on his cheeks now and felt like an idiot; he hadn't even known he was crying. And he'd always said Spain was thick! He felt his cheeks flame like a match being struck. "Well- I-I was-a worried about you all right? Not like I really-a care, it's just who would-a take care of all the tomatoes in the garden, huh? Stupid Spain."

The thermometer went off and Romano took it into his hand and looked at the screen. No change. "You still have a fever," he sighed, "go back-a to sleep, idiota."

Spain smiled sleepily and, to Romano's consternation, reached up and tousled his hair. "You know you're still my little tomato… you get all upset and try to act like you're fine just like when you were little… still my little Romano…" He coughed harshly and smiled again, snuggling into his blankets and shivering a little.

Italy came back with the water and manage to cajole Spain into drinking just enough liquid to soothe his sore throat. "Here big brother Spain-a, this will make you feel a lot-a better!" he sang, ever cheerful, as he sort of gave the other nation no choice by pouring it into his mouth without warning, making Spain choke a little. Romano shook his head and sighed. "Come on, fratello, let's-a go downstairs and make-a some soup. I guess we gotta feed the bastardo." But there was an undertone of affectionate teasing in his tone and Spain chuckled as he drifted off to sleep. "Te ámo también, Romanito…" he whispered.

Two weeks later…

"And then there was the time I faced a talking bull…"

"Spain, how many times do I have to tell you that was a hallucination?!"

"Hush, Roma, you're ruining the story!"

The End(: Hope you liked it(: