I'm back! Things should be updating regularly now.

…

You returned from a pleasant week in Switzerland, refreshed and-

"Achoo!"

You sputtered all over your arm. Groaning, you walked over to the sink and washed it off. It was nothing, just allergy season. You couldn't be sick. History and Culture of Europe required your full attention! Nations couldn't get "sick". That term was unfamiliar to you.

The morning after, you laid stuck in your bed, sweating from a fever. You wheezed and pulled a pillow over your head. Okay, maybe you did catch a small bug, but it would go away soon. You were naturally resilient.

Two days later, you still felt horrible. Three after that, it got increasingly worse. History and Culture of Europe couldn't wait any longer! You called into the pharmacy and booked your medication.

Slipping a coat over your pajamas and stuffing the pockets full of extra tissues, you twisted the keys to your car and sped off into town. Through your blood-shot eyes and scraggly hair, you hoped no one could recognize you.

You picked up your little brown bag of medicine and came out in a jiffy. You hated being that zombie looking person moping around, so you didn't stick around the store. This illness, whatever it was, was draining you. You were not yourself at all, you even went as far to cancel the meeting you scheduled with Netherlands. In this state you weren't attractive at all. If you ran into your boss, well, prepare for a lecture on hand washing.

Completely oblivious, you crashed into a man.

"Hey pal, watch it-" he cut off.

You brought your collar up and looked down.

"Um, sorry."

You brushed past him.

"Ve~ (name)!"

You were tackled into a hug from behind.

"Italy (cough) no, get away from me, I'm (cough),"

Italy gasped.

"(name), you're sick!"

You sighed at how stuffy your voice sounded. Of course you would run into the handsome Italian brothers when you looked like a pile of-

"You look bad," said Romano, coming up behind him.

You furrowed your brows.

"I'd like to know why you are in my country."

You tried to sound imposing, but it came out nasally.

"We were shopping for some of your special ingredients! After what you told us about your cuisine, we had to try it!"

"Um, huh, yeah…"

You bent over, coughing violently. Italy's eyebrows made a worried frown.

"Ve, you're really ill. I know, I'll clean your house for you!"

"Oh no, you shouldn't do that Italy,"

More extreme coughing.

"You shouldn't be alone in this condition! We'll come to your house and make sure you get better. Right Romano?"

"Cheh."

You agreed, not having the voice to object any more. Italy carried your medicine sack for you as you started the car. You weren't about to let him drive.

"Ve, what are you sick with?"

"Um, well, (cough) the doctor said it's a combination of things. Fever, (cough) cold, (cough), stuff like that."

"None of the…throwing up stuff, right?" Romano asked.

Your tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheeze.

"No, luckily. You won't have to worry about cleaning up…bodily fluids."

You pulled into your house. The keys jingled as you unlocked the door, heading into your living area.

"I'll fix some food! You have pasta, right?" Italy asked.

"I think so."

"Yay!"

He ran off to the kitchen. You plopped down on the couch. Romano stood at the corner of the room, an uncomfortable grimace on his face.

"Something wrong?"

You reached for a tissue. He watched you blow your nose, then began to speak, making no effort to hide his displeasure.

"You should take a shower. It'll help clear up your sinuses."

"You can just tell me I smell like a three week old pile of fish."

He slapped his forehead.

"Dammit, that's not what I-"

"I know, I know."

You struggled off the sofa.

"But thanks, I'm sure a shower will help. Make yourself at home."

When he heard the bathroom door shut and lock, Romano let out a long sigh. Even when you were sick you were irresistibly cute.

…

The hot shower did make you feel better. You changed into some decent, comfy clothes and ran a brush through your messy hair. Although your face was still ruddy, you looked better than before. You wandered out of the bathroom, the smell of cooking pasta finding its way to your nostrils. Your wet feet squeaked as your walked on the wood.

"Smells good, Italy!" you said, peering over his shoulder in the boiling pot.

"Should be ready soon, (name). Go relax."

You raised your eyebrows at his instructive tone.

"Er, I had some paperwork I needed to look over…"

"Ve! You really do need someone here! You won't get better if you don't rest."

You were going to object, but a coughing fit concluded Italy was right. You went to lay down on your large bed, reaching for a source of reading. It touched you that Italy was so concerned. You'd have to do something nice for him…once you were feeling better.

Romano shyly knocked on the door and peeped in.

"Hey bas- er, (name). Fratello[1] told me to, um, make sure you were resting."

He crossed his arms.

"But you're clearly not. Reading a damn economic report? Take your mind off business. You're turning into the Swiss bastard."

"Well, if I was like you and neglected every important meeting, I'd be knee deep in debt. Good thing you have such a responsible brother."

"Shut your mouth and rest."

"No."

You stuck out your tongue.

"God, you're so freaking stubborn!"

He jumped on the bed, maintaining a safe distance from you and your sickness. He leaned on his side, eyes locked on you.

"I'm not leaving until you go to sleep."

"Does that mean you'll keep nagging me?

"Yes."

"Curses."

Sticking out your lip, you placed the economic sheet on the nightstand. You weren't tired yet, and arguing with Romano only made you more aware. Lately you had gotten more sleep than was needed. You felt around the bed, then realized where the item was. Apprehensively, you reached over Romano, but you failed to hold yourself up all the way. Your torso brushed his side. His face started to redden.

"Get off me, you sickly-"

You held up the remote, silencing him. His face morphed back into irritability.

"I said, go to sleep not turn on the TV."

"I have to watch a little TV before I go to sleep."

Romano huffed and overturned on his back. You flipped absently through the channels. He bit his lip. Click. Click. Click. He slammed a fist down on the bed.

"You've already been through these channels two times! Ugh, give me the god damn remote."

He snatched the device from your hand. You crossed your arms.

"You really need to learn better manners."

"Cheh, hard when I'm around you."

You narrowed your eyes.

"I was talking to Spain, and he said you were just like this when you were little-"

He stopped messing with the remote and glared intensely.

"When were you talking to that bastard?"

You paused and placed a finger on your chin.

"Why, just yesterday. We were having the best conversation. We're such good friends!"

Romano made a guttural sound from his throat.

"Never, ever speak to him again."

You stifled a cough to maintain your serious look.

"Why not? He's my friend."

"Because, he'll-"

Romano went on to describe a number of possibilities in graphic detail. You laid there, wide eyed, for several moments. He smiled a little at the sight of you speechless, thinking: No witty comeback this time, (name)?

"S-speaking from experience?" you choked out.

"Ugh, you drive me crazy sometimes!"

…

You sat a comfortable distance from Romano in your bed. It wasn't a scene you had pictured before, at least with you sick or fully clothed. He had finally settled on a cooking channel, which did start to make you drowsy. You slid your feet under the sheets, feeling oddly chilly.

All of the sudden, you erupted into shivers. Romano diverted from the obnoxious chef on TV.

"What's wrong with you? I thought you had a fever."

"I-I do, b-but sometimes it can c-cause chills," you said, teeth chattering.

"O-oh poop, I don't have an e-extra blanket."

You cocooned yourself in the sheets. The day before, you had dropped off your bed covers at the dry cleaners. They were soiled with your ill residue so much you couldn't stand it anymore.

Romano made a face, both of deep thought and worry.

"M-maybe we could-just-possibly-"

He covered his eyes with his hand.

"Could it help i-if we…"

You let out a breathy sigh.

"What?"

"Cuddled."

You considered this.

"W-what about 'stay away from me, you walking outbreak'?"

He groaned.

"I d-don't want you to get worse, stupid."

You offered a sweet smile.

"Fine, let's c-cuddle then."

Pink started to dust both of your cheeks. Slowly, Romano scooted closer to you. With a nod, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, beckoning you into him. You clenched his shirt and shoved him closer. He lightly slid another arm across your waist.

You reveled in the Italian's intense heat. So the rumors were true. Thoughts sent a worse blush rushing. You traced your fingers down to the half-nation's bare wrist. He gripped you hand, causing you to hide your embarrassment in the crook of his shoulder.

"D-damn, you're cold," he said lowly.

You squeaked in response, meaning to laugh. He started lightly stroking your back.

You were snuggling. With Romano. The hot-headed Italian wasn't unattractive at all, but you felt…intimidated in his presence. You didn't mean to tease him so much as you did, but it was hard to just talk with him. Was it a crush? No, no, you didn't have such things. Even on gorgeous, tan, Italian boys…who you were cuddling with!

Your shivers started to subside, but Romano did not let go. You uncovered your view to look up at him. His tender amber eyes were hooded.

"You're- you're just doing this because…"

He nuzzled your head.

"S-shut up and sleep."

So you shut up.

…

"(name)?" Romano said, caressing your hair.

Your face was obscured in his chest. He couldn't believe it. You and him…this close. Sure, you were sick and he was probably going to get your affliction, but having you in his arms. It was worth it, dammit.

"I-I think-"

Not the time to seem afraid.

"I think I'm in love with you."

He held his breath, waiting for your reaction. There was a lot of people who liked you. Hell, he wasn't even sure you were single, but he had to confess it. He wanted you to love him.

"(name)?"

He placed a finger under your chin and- you were sleeping. You just had to fall asleep now.

…

"Wake up, (name)."

A hand gently shook you. You groaned and burrowed deeper into the object beside you.

"Urgh, fu-"

"PASTA!" Italy yelled suddenly.

You shot up. Romano's arms fell limp to his sides. Italy materialized in the doorway.

"Do you feel well enough to come to the kitchen?"

"Yes, er, Romano?"

"I'm not hungry," he grumbled, sinking down in the bed.

You shrugged and followed Italy to your kitchen. An array of pasta, soup, and fruit sat on the table. You inspected one of the plates.

"Wow, I didn't even know I had that!"

"Ve, you keep all the best ingredients in the back of your pantry!"

You started with a spoonful of chicken basil soup. Italy advised you to blow on it, it could burn your tongue. Then he made sure you had a napkin, standing close to the side of you. You tried to focus on eating your soup and not his new motherly attitude.

"Don't forget to take your medicine!"

"Italy, why are you taking care of me?"

Surprisingly, he didn't have an immediate response.

"Because you're my friend, (name)."

"But you wouldn't go to all this trouble for a friend."

You realized your words and looked down. There was a moment of silence again.

"You're my best friend, (name)!"

"I thought Germany was your best friend."

"Um, he is, but Germany isn't as pretty as you, ve!"

You laughed, which turned into a cough.

"Are you (cough) going to spend the night here? I do have a guest bedroom, if you don't mind sleeping with Romano."

His eyes trailed around.

"I don't mind sleeping with Roma, but…"

He fidgeted with his hands.

"Could I sleep with you instead?"

You paled.

"U-um, I don't want you to get what I have…"

"But Romano has already gotten the chance to sleep with you."

You rubbed your face.

"Um, I suppose, but-"

Italy ran up and hugged you. You tried not to breathe on him. The brothers couldn't be totally immune to what you had. Weren't they concerned at all about getting sick? You'd set up the couch for him in your room.

There was angry footsteps down the corridor.

"Bastard, who said you could sleep with name?"

"(name) did-agh, fratello, stop choking me!"

EXTENDED ENDING

You placed the wet towels on their foreheads, sighing. One smiled gratefully, then erupted into a fit of coughs.

"I told you you'd get sick."

Romano choked out something that sounded like a very bad curse word. Taking care of the Italy brothers...this would be your thanks to them. History and Culture of Europe would have to wait ever longer.

…

[1] Sibling or brother in Italian.

Abrupt ending is abrupt. Not much you can make happen when the main character is sick, and I can't go too deeply into description of the home. Ugh…must…describe...