Hey there, Fang here.

I actually worked on a ficlet in which Iggy doesn't get hurt, like i promised...not like I don't embarrass him to no end, but hey. A little torture is good for the soul.

Anyway, hope you like the next installment.

The first week back was, at the least to say, difficult. Arthur had a hard time doing anything for himself (which he adamantly refused to admit) and so Alfred became more of his crutch than anything. It's a little hard to move in a wheelchair with only one arm, as Arthur unfortunately found out by moving in a circle for a good two minutes.

Alfred was more patient than he had ever been in his whole life. He actually pain attention to what painkiller he gave Arthur, along with actually trying to learn to cook for his brother (A bit unsuccessfully, considering his tastes were just as bad as Arthur). As much as he had complained earlier about Arthur having tendencies to be a mother hen, Alfred found himself hovering more than was necessary, slightly annoying his brother. Not that Arthur would say anything though; he really wasn't in any position to do so.

It was the fourth night back, and Arthur was sitting at his table reading about the war progression when Alfred came in bearing two plates of…some sort of meat…it was more than a little overcooked, but considering the man's skills in cooking were next to nil, it could've been worse. Arthur grimaced a little, but ate some of it anyway; though it looked horrific, it tasted fine to him.

"Why the bloody #!*% do you insist on portions of food I can't eat…" he mumbled to himself.

"Cause, dude, you seriously need to eat more…I know you just got off that liquid diet crap, but honestly? You're a stick."

"I am not!"

Alfred just raised his eyebrows. Arthur murmured something about how he was going to kill Alfred when his arm was sufficiently back to normal and finished half of it before pushing it away. Alfred rolled his eyes; as much as he worried about Arthur, eh could be downright exasperating at times.

"Dude…"

"I don't want to get fat!"

"Like that's gonna happen anytime soon…" Alfred thought, glancing at Arthur's still bony wrists, but said nothing.

A little later on, Arthur and Alfred were sitting in Arthur's immaculate tea room, Arthur with a book and Alfred with "one of those blasted video games" as Arthur so fondly called them. A low curse came from Iggy, and Alfred looked up from fighting vampire to notice Arthur was having a hard time turning a page of his book. He put the game down and walked over.

"Iggy, ya need-"

"No!"

Alfred was taken aback. Arthur held the book closely to him.

"I can do this at least for myself." He said, almost venomously. Alfred held his palms open in surrender. Arthur glared back at him, until Alfred went back to his game. Even so, Alfred kept shooting furtive glances at Artie. What go him so worked up? Was his chest or legs hurting again? No, he gave him a pain killer no less than an hour ago. Alfred finally just shook off the strange occurrence.

At ten, Alfred heard Arthur snap his book shut, finished. Alfred saved his game. Arthur looked at his brother, and sighed.

"Can't I just sleep on the sofa…"

"Nah, dude! That is so freaking uncomfortable, you know…I've tried it!"
"…you…really? Why?"

Alfred laughed.

"Long story. Anyway, come on…" Alfred walked to Arthur, and slowly picked him up from his chair. Arthur stiffened in Alfred's arms as his position changed, hurting his already battered legs.

"Sorry, bro."

Arthur shook his head in defiance and Alfred made his way up the twelve steps and a left to Arthur's room. Since both were in what they considered sleepwear, Alfred simply laid Arthur on the bed. Once his body made contact with the softer sheets, Arthur's pent up breath let out, and he relaxed. Alfred chuckled and turned out the light before hopping into the bed himself.

"You know you have your own room…" Arthur murmured a little sleepily as Alfred helped him pull the blankets up.

"Yeah."

"So then, why-"

"Cause someone needs to make sure you're alright in the middle of the night." Alfred admitted, and wrapped his arms gently, but protectively around his brother. Can't crush him this time, he told himself. Crushitude can't happen.

Arthur flinched a bit at the contact, but reassured himself that the slight pressure on his chest was not restraining what little movement he had, and settled down. Alfred chuckled to feel his bomber jacket on another person, but it made him feel that Arthur was even safer wrapped up in it. Without making a noise, he kept watch over Arthur until his brother's breathing evened out in the caress of sleep, before submitting himself.

Alfred was literally slapped awake by Arthur's flailing arms. The Brit was breathing heavily and his eyes were shut tight in a grimace of agony. Alfred instantly snapped to full wakeness as he rolled out of the way of Arthur's next blow. The Englishman was tossing violently back and forth in the bed, mouth open but now sound emerging. Alfred only jerked out of his surprised state when he saw Arthur reaching for his chest again…

"Arthur!" Alfred grabbed his wrist just in time and wrenched it down to the bed. This just made Arthur struggle more. Alfred pushed on his other shoulder, trying to keep him flat so he wouldn't injure his wounds anymore.

"Arthur! Artie, wake up!"

Arthur's eyes opened, but they were wandering all over the room.

"I'm awake…I'm awake…"

Alfred shook Arthur as best he could.

" #!*% no, you aren't! Arthur, come on, man!"

"I'm awake! I'm – Oh, God…" Arthur's eyes were drawn to the ceiling, looking at something only visible to him. Arthur's eyes went wide with fear, and then he flinched violently struggling all the more. Alfred called out his name a few more times, but got no more response. Finally, he took his hand from Arthur's shoulders and slapped him hard across the face.

Arthur's head snapped to the side, and he finally woke with a terse exclamation.

His eyes searched around wildly, noticing he wasn't in London anymore; the bombs weren't erupting around him. He finally stared at Alfred, and Alfred removed his grip. Arthur began to relax, and something crossed his eyes…shame? Arthur turned on his side and buried his face in his pillow.

Alfred, after a few seconds, whispered, "Artie?"

He got no response. He tentatively touched Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Arthur savagely shrugged Alfred's hand away.

"But-"

"No!"

"I just wanted to help-"Alfred stuttered. Arthur's face emerged, a mix of anger and pain.

"Just get out! Get out of my room! GO!" With that last finally vehemous outburst, Alfred scurried out of the room in confusion. Arthur hit the pillow with his face again.

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:

...poor Iggy...eh, he'll survive...

Anyway! Thanks, oro-oro, for your continuing kind reviews. And yeah...getting your capital bombed cannot be exactly good...Arthur's such a closed up, tight-knit character that I love how he hates showing any sign of emotion or weakness...it makes him cute...and that's why it's easy to write angsty fics on him!

It's funny how I actually get his character more now that I've written so much crap on him...It's probably for the best though, considering I'm cosplaying as him at the next convention in my area...

...I even drink more tea...I don't know whether that's a good thing or bad...

Anywho, Hope you enjoyed it, and one more chapter to go! Reviews are lovely...

-Fang