KissMeDeadlyT-T: Thanks to those who read and reviewed and stuff. I smiled a lot :D

The next chapter may take a while to come out. I have it partially done, but I have to go out of town to Quebec for some family stuff, and I won't have much time to write there. I will try to get it done and post it as soon as I'm back, but since I will have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on, it still might take a while after that. I apologize if this makes anyone sad. Probably, you just really don't care. :D

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Spain tiptoed up the stairs and down the hall, a heap of blankets and pillows and a hot water bottle in his arms. It was hard to keep quiet when he was concentrating on not dropping anything and not tripping, but he managed to avoid all the creaky floorboards and shuffle down the hall without much noise. Quietly, he eased open the door to his room, where Romano was bedridden, calling out softly, "Romano? I'm back."

His only answer was slow, heavy breathing, laced with an occasional moan of discomfort. His heart throbbed painfully and he approached his bed, dropping the blankets and pillows onto the ground with a muted 'thump'. He sat on the edge of the bed, softly so as not to rouse Romano from what seemed to be an uneasy sleep. Even in sleep, the Italian hadn't lost that look of discomfort; his features were pinched and his cheeks red, eyelids twitching as though his eyes were rolling around underneath them. Spain ran his fingers through Romano's dark red bangs and pushed them back from his sweaty forehead, something heavy and painful sitting in his stomach. He hated seeing Romano in pain. He wished desperately that he could do something to help, something that would work for sure, so that Romano could go back to his usual grumpy, sullen self, not this sickly, half-assed angry attitude he put on lately. He wanted his Romano back.

Romano stirred, rolling onto his back. A line appeared between his eyebrows and he let out a shaky breath, a low moan of pain leaving his dry lips. Spain's heart clenched.

"Romano," he whispered, stroking his thumb over the Romano's flushed cheek. "Oh, Romano, I love you so much... I wish I could make you better."

"Antonio," Romano murmured. Spain paused for a moment, unsure if Romano was awake, but after a few moments he discerned he was still sleeping. Something fluttered in his stomach. Romano was saying his name in his sleep.

Spain couldn't help but feel like he was going to cry. A watery smile curved his lips. "Romano," he said, shaking the Italian's shoulder gently. Romano groaned, rolled over, and started snoring. Spain rolled his eyes, amused. He shook him again. "Lovino," he said, louder this time. When Romano still didn't respond, Spain pressed his lips together in frustration.

"You are such a pain," he murmured. He decided to use a different tactic. Climbing up onto the bed, he bridged himself over Romano's curled up body and bounced on his knees and hands. "Romanooooooo, Romanooooooo, Romano, wake uuuuuup~!" He said in an annoying sing-song voice. There was a muffled curse mostly swallowed by the pillow, but Spain caught the Italian insults and grinned. He ceased bouncing and got off the bed, leaning against it as he waited for Romano to wake up.

"I have something we can try," he said. He noticed Romano seemed to be dizzy and was having a hard time sitting up, so he quickly grabbed his elbows and helped him to a sitting position. Romano grumbled groggy protests about not needing help, but Spain ignored them, because it was obvious Romano did need help. Once Romano was comfortably propped up against the fluffy pillows, he sent a glare Spain's way.

"What do you want?" he demanded, his eyes glittery and skin flushed. He looked adorably tired, his hair messed up on one side and a bit of dried drool in the right corner of his lips. He looked like he was in extreme discomfort but was trying to hide it. Spain swallowed sadness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you—"

"Why the hell did you then?"

"—But I wanted to tell you I found out a way that we might be able to break your fever."

Romano's fierce glared faltered somewhat. He focused his glittery eyes on Spain, furrowing his brow. "Oh yeah?" he asked in a dubious voice. "If it involves taking some new kind of meds, forget it. I've been so stoned out of my mind for the past few days that my body has actually started rejecting medicine."

Spain couldn't help but chuckle at the disgruntled tone in Romano's voice. "No, no," he said, shaking his head. He picked up the pillows and placed them around Romano, helping the Italian into a more comfortable position. Romano's face paled and he shut his eyes in dizziness for a moment, his fingers clenching around Spain's arm. Spain bit his lip. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better," Romano answered, blinking his eyes open. He groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead. "What's this way to break my fever you were talking about?"

"Ah, right." Spain sat on the edge of the bed, noticing that Romano hadn't let go of his arm yet. He didn't say or do anything because he knew that if he did, Romano would get embarrassed and let go. "Have you ever heard of sweating out a fever?" he asked. When Romano shook his head, Spain went on to explain, "Well, Francis told me about it, so I'm not too sure if it'll actually work or not, but we should give it a try. He said that if we make you get really hot and make you sweat a bunch, you might get hot enough to kill the virus causing the fever. So basically, we just have to make you get extremely hot and bothered."

"Hot and bothered?" Romano's eyes widened alarmingly and he flushed. "How do you plan to go about doing that?" he squeaked.

Spain raised an eyebrow and pointed to the pile of blankets on the floor and the hot water bottle on the night table. Romano suddenly looked a lot less nervous, shutting his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. Spain grinned at him. "Why? What were you thinking, Lovino?"

"Nothing!" Romano shouted, his face turning redder than a tomato. He half-heartedly punched Spain in the shoulder, glaring somewhere to the right and avoiding Spain's grinning face completely. "I wasn't thinking anything," he muttered, blowing his bangs out of his face. This was something he generally did when he was embarrassed, and it didn't pass by Spain unnoticed.

Spain leaned closer, until their noses were touching and he could see flecks of gold in Romano's angry, feverish amber eyes. "Really?"

"Yes!" Romano put his hands on Spain's shoulders and tried to shove him away. He was weak and unsuccessful, but Spain eventually pulled away on his own, still grinning.

"You're as bad of a pervert as Francis," he said under his breath.

"What?" Romano's voice had an edge to it. "What about France?"

"Nothing, nothing," Spain said lightly, hopping to his feet. He ignored the glower Romano sent him and bent to pick up the blankets, piling them at the foot of the bed. He grabbed the hot water bottle and made sure it was still hot enough before tossing it over to Romano. "Put this in your shirt."

Romano looked at him like he had a third eye. "No."

Spain furrowed his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Because you're here. I'm not lifting my shirt while you're looking, pervert."

Spain rolled his eyes and turned his back to Romano. "Is this good enough?"

"No, you're peeking."

Spain looked back at him with an exasperated face. "Are you kidding me? I don't have eyes on the back of my head, Romano."

"But you're a pervert and you want to defile my body."

Spain had to take a deep breath so that he didn't freak out. "Romano," he said slowly. "I am not peeking. My back is to you and all I can see is the wall, and if I wanted to defile your body I would have by now." Which was a lie; he did indeed want to defile Romano's body, but he would never do that unless Romano said he could, which he wouldn't any time soon, since the little bugger was so damned stubborn. "Put the goddamned water bottle in your shirt before I go over there and do it myself."

Romano grumbled under his breath. There was a shuffling sound, then a moment later he muttered, "Done, you can look."

"Dios, finally." Spain turned around. "I'm going to put the blankets on you. Get comfortable."

Romano looked at him uncertainly. "I'm already hot enough, Spain. And being hot makes me want to throw up."

"Then I'll grab you a bucket, okay?"

"Well, okay..." Romano didn't look very pleased. "But—"

"Listen," Spain said softly. "I know I'm being mean right now, but I really want you to get better. I hate seeing you like this. If you throw up, you might throw up the virus, too. Then your fever will break, and you'll start getting better. I know it's not fun, and it sucks to puke, trust me, I was one of the people Prussia forced to eat that sandwich he found from World War Two." Romano looked faintly green at this, and Spain made a face. "Yeah, I know. But my point is, can we just give this a try?"

Romano sighed, nodding. "All right, we'll try it. But, can you..." He turned a delicate pink, the turned his head to the side quickly. "Never mind," he muttered.

Spain raised an eyebrow. "Can I what?"

"Nothing."

"Romano."

"Spain."

"Romano."

"Spaaaain."

Spain 'tsk'ed. "Lovino."

"Antonioooo."

Instead of saying something back, this time Spain just stared at Romano in that unnerving, unblinking way he did that somehow made Romano feel incredibly guilty and flustered all at the same time. Romano made a sound of annoyance, bringing his knees up to his chin. "Fine. Jeez, I was going to ask if you could stay with me, you bastard. But now I kinda don't want you to..." He was too stubborn to say how sad he'd been when Spain had left earlier, but there must have been something in his eyes since Spain smiled brilliantly, absolutely beaming.

"Si, of course!" the brunet said cheerfully.

Romano looked surprised. "Really? You're not worried about getting sick too?"

"Not at all! I don't mind. I just want to help you get better."

Romano suddenly felt like crying again. Why was Spain so nice to him? Why did he care so much? To hide his watery eyes and the lump in his throat, Romano slid down on the bed and curled up into a ball, bringing the sheets up to his nose. "Grazie," he said quietly. His voice was muffled, and if Spain wasn't mistaken, quite thick. He didn't comment.

"Are you going to put the blankets on me or just sit there staring at me like an idiot?" Romano asked gruffly. He didn't want them, but he was willing to give this a try. He was already breaking out in sweats, but his body was shivering and the sweat on his toes and back was cold. His stomach was churning and his mouth had too much saliva that felt like acid when he swallowed. He shut his eyes, taking deep breaths. He was tired of being sick, tired of seeing Spain worry about him like this. So he would follow through.

Spain looked down worriedly at Romano for a moment. He sighed and murmured an affirmative, piling on one, two, three mink blankets. Romano seemed fine for the moment, just a tiny little line appearing between his thin eyebrows. Spain was relieved.

"Is it too uncomfortable?" he asked, pushing Romano's damp hair away from his eyes.

Romano shook his head. "No," he said, sounding short of breath. "It's not too bad."

"Okay. I'm going to go and—"

A hand shot out from underneath the pile of blankets and Romano's eyes flew open. "No!" he said, his voice sounding scared. His fingers tightened in Spain's shirt. "Don't leave me."

Spain felt something inside of him shatter and thought that perhaps Romano was going to break his heart. "Shh, shh," he hushed Romano, who was struggling to sit up. Spain nearly burst into tears. He managed to give a watery smile and push Romano gently back into the pillows. "Don't worry, okay, mi tomate? I'm just going to get you some water and grab a bucket just in case. I'll be right back."

Romano looked reluctant, but he slowly let go of Spain's shirt. "Promise you'll come back."

"I promise," Spain whispered, a lump forming in his throat. This was so wrong. Seeing Romano so week and needy like this was worse than if Romano was screaming at him to get out of his sight, because at least if he was doing that, Spain would know he was okay. "I promise I'll come back, and I'll sit with you until you want me to leave, okay?"

"Okay," Romano said, relaxing.

"Just rest for a bit. I'll be back in five minutes tops."

"Okay," Romano whispered again, shutting his eyes. Spain planted a soft kiss on his forehead and quickly retreated from the room before he started crying in front of Romano.

He shut the door softly behind him, leaning on it for a moment to try and collect himself. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally won him over and a few slid down his tanned cheeks. He clamped his eyes shut and put a hand over his mouth. Seeing Romano this sick made him want to throw up. Knowing that if Romano wasn't a country but just a normal human being, he would possibly end up dying from a fever this bad, made Spain so frightened that for a few moments, all he could do was stand there sobbing silently into his hand. He hated how he didn't even know what to do to make Romano get better. What if this didn't work? What if it just made the fever even worse? What if he—No. He couldn't think that way. He wouldn't think that way.

He bit down firmly on the insides of his cheeks, and the pain was enough to tear him out of the downwards spiral his thoughts were on. He straightened up and wiped his eyes roughly, swallowing hard. He had to be strong for Romano.

He pushed away from the door and went to go get the bucket from his basement and a glass of water as promised. He was so depressed that he didn't even register what he was doing and his movements were zombie-like. He was halfway up the stairs on his way back to his room where Romano was, when someone knocked on the front door. Pausing, he turned and called, "Who is it?"

"It's Germany." The voice was muffled. "Italy wanted me to drop something off."

Spain sighed. "Okay, come in."

The door opened, and in walked Germany, holding a jar of something that looked like soup. His blue eyes looked around for a moment in confusion, then he spotted Spain looking down at him from the staircase. "Ah... sorry to intrude."

"It's okay," Spain said. "What's that?"

Germany looked down at the jar in his hand. "Well, Veneziano has been sick with a fever for the past couple days, and Japan made this... soup. I think it's soup. Anyway, Italy's been eating it, and he's feeling better. He told me I should bring some to you, because Romano would likely be sick too..." He trailed off.

Spain nodded, smiling. "Thanks. Is it warm?"

Germany nodded. "Japan just made it."

"Okay then. Can you bring it upstairs?" Spain lifted the bucket and glass of water in his hands. "I would, but my hands are full."

The blond looked worried. "Romano is up there. I don't want to stress him out more than he already is..."

"It's fine."

Germany sighed, but didn't say anything, following Spain up the stairs. Once they got to the door that led to his room, Spain slowly opened it, peeking his head in. "Romano?"

"What?" came Romano's sleepy voice, muffled by all the blankets.

"Um... Germany is here."

There was silence, then a muttered, "Whatever."

Germany looked unnerved. "Is he okay?" he whispered. "He's not attempting to end my life."

Spain shook his head, not knowing what to answer with. Finally he said, "He's pretty bad, but we're working on getting him better. This soup might help." He opened the door and walked in, followed closely by Germany. Spain set the bucket next to Romano's bedside and put the glass of water on the night table, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing his palm on Romano's forehead. "You're hotter than you were before."

Romano's eyes peeked at him from under the blankets and there was an unmistakeable 'no shit Sherlock' look in them. "Really? I wonder why," he muttered sarcastically. His eyes shifted to the left, behind Spain. "Hey, bastard."

Germany now seemed very alarmed. "Um... hi. I brought... soup. No, it's not poisoned," he said with a sigh when Romano opened his mouth. "Japan made it and there are some herbal remedies in it. Italy told me you would like it."

Romano sighed. "I was going to say thanks. Is Veneziano sick too?"

"Ja, but he's getting better. He's been throwing up and stuff, and you wouldn't believe how loud he screamed when he found out pasta makes him throw up..."

Romano laughed a bit. "Good, I'm not suffering alone then." His eyebrows drew together. "He's getting better, you say? How?"

Germany shrugged. "He sweat it out."

"Yes! So it works?" Spain cut in excitedly. Germany nodded.

"I wouldn't say it works one hundred percent of the time... but it did make his fever break."

"Did you drown him in blankets like Spain's doing to me?"

"Um..." Germany flushed slightly. "Yeah," he said, obviously lying. "That's what I did."

Romano didn't notice his fib, but Spain did. He raised an eyebrow and grinned, looking at Germany's slightly pink face. The German cleared his throat and straightened up. "Well, I should get going... Italy's going to scream at me being gone so long..."

Romano nodded and Spain stood up. "Want me to walk you to the door?"

Germany shook his head. "No, that's fine. I'll see myself out. I hope you feel better soon, Romano." With that, he turned on his heel and left. After hearing the front door slam, Spain smiled and looked down at Romano again.

"Well, that was weird."

Romano glowered at him. "What?"

"You didn't try to kill Germany, and you were even nice." He put a hand to his chest in exaggerated shock. "My, my. Maybe you should get sick more often if you're going to be this sociable."

Romano rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Spain stood up again. "I'll to grab a bowl for the soup."

"Okay, fine. But hurry. I'm tired of being here alone. I counted the fingerprints on your window at least twenty times now."

Spain chuckled. Maybe Romano was starting to feel better. He was at least making jokes, now. "I love you, you know that?"

"Yeah yeah, now hurry up."

Shaking his head in amusement, Spain gave him one last kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.

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KissMeDeadlyT-T: So have you guys ever had a fever dream before? Like the most fucked up thing in the entire world and it happens when your fever breaks if you're sleeping. Every time I have a fever and I have a fever dream, it's usually so disturbing and weird that I end up screaming for my mom, and I never remember it when I wake up. I don't know how common fever dreams are, but yeah. Everyone in my family gets them and they are MESSED UP SHIT.

Yay Germany made an appearance I quite enjoy Germany! *hip thrust dance* AW YEAH. How was this chapter? Please review c: It will help Romano get better! :D

Oh yeah; rating might go up, still haven't decided. :U