~ 12 ~

His awesome plan was spoiled though when he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, sore throat, and heavy limbs. Aw, please not this. He tried to make his arms work so he could at least push himself off the bed but a rattling cough stopped his progress. "Crap," was all he could get out before he let himself flop back into bed. This was worse than a hangover because hangovers never left him feeling this weak.

As nations, the only time they got sick was because the economy was doing badly, there was a war going on, or there was some natural disaster in the works. Prussia wasn't a nation anymore. Hell, he was practically human really, immortal but with no connection to people and land. Maybe some ghost feelings from the land and the remaining people of his kingdom came to him from time to time but nothing big. That's why he shouldn't have been too surprised that he was sick now. He'd gotten colds in winter; he'd even gotten an ear infection a couple years back. He broke an arm that took the normal human time to heal (it had almost made him go insane because it had been his right arm and he'd found himself not being able to do a lot of things).

This though. This was just horrible.

"Ah, finally awake I see."

Cracking an eye open, he watched as England made his way over to him with something in his hand. Gilbird had flown in behind him and was perched by the window. Of course Prussia could only make out a blob of yellow.

"What time is it?" he croaked. Gott even talking hurt! This sucked.

"Afternoon. You were delirious yesterday."

Before Prussia could ask him about it, he felt a hand press against his forehead. He stared wide-eyed at England's thoughtful face.

"Hum, feels like your fever's down." He retracted his hand and began doing something with the…Prussia strained to see what it was he had. He cursed his blurry vision. Oh. He eyed the spoon full of cherry red syrup. Medicine.

"No," was all he said. He was not going to let England spoon feed him like a toddler. Fuck that, he would rather suffer through the cold or whatever it was that he had until it got better on its own.

England raised a thick eyebrow. "No?" He chuckled. "Prussia, I mean no offense when I say this but you're in no position to make demands."

Was that a threat? Oh, he'd like to see England try to manhandle him just so he could force medicine down his throat. Not going to happen in this or any other life time. "Limey, I'm warning you know – I'll bite your hand if you try anything."

They had a staring contest (Prussia barely able to see the Brit's face even though he was only a couple feet away from him) before England sighed in frustration. "Why are you being so difficult?"

Prussia smiled at his victory before he broke into long rattling coughs. There went his smooth win. Once he calmed down, he became aware that he was leaning over the side with England patting his back. When did this happen? He raised his arms to push him away but found that they wouldn't listen to him. Traitors. Instead, he leaned back on his bed, weak and sweaty and hating his life.

Why? Why did this have to happen? Why was England being so…Prussia couldn't find the right word because he'd never been in this sort of situation where he was sick and someone was there willing to take care of him. He also couldn't explain the contradictory feeling that was blossoming on his chest at the sight of England abandoning the medicine and instead stirring something in a teacup. The sight of him doing this simple act was too foreign for Prussia to handle and so he just watched, probably looking like an idiot because England met his eyes and made a confused face at him.

"Here," he said, offering the bed ridden albino the teacup.

He eyed is wearily (as he should seeing as how it was coming from England). "What is it?"

The Brit huffed in annoyance. "Tea. Lemon tea. It'll help your throat which I'm sure is slowly killing you the more you speak."

Well, Prussia wasn't going to deny that. He took it gratefully and took a sip. The boiling warmth burned his mouth but soothed his throat as it traveled down and settled in his stomach. He almost made an unmanly sigh at the feeling and took another sip.

England looked pleased.

"You should sleep more," England advised as he stood.

"Where are you going?" Prussia asked before he could stop himself.

England just smiled. Smiled! Like if he was calming down some…some…kid! "I'll be in my office doing some work. If you need anything, just call softly and I'll come."

Call softly? How was that going to work?

He watched the Brit leave and Prussia sat angrily in his bad, cursing and sipping his tea until it was gone. He placed it on the nightstand next to the medicine. Now that England wasn't here Prussia saw no reason to make himself suffer and swallowed down some of the medicine.

Blah!

Almost immediately he felt sleepy and rested his head back on the pillow. He looked dazedly at the ceiling and didn't think much when he saw the shape of some weird bunny green thing with wings hovering over his head. It was blurry and kind of transparent. Prussia chalked it up to his fever and the medicine and didn't think more of it when he passed out.

oOo

He felt cold and tried to burry himself in his blankets. His room was dark and the noise of his radio only worsened his headache. Too bad he couldn't get up to turn it off. It was too far away and his body was in too much pain to try moving.

"Bruder? Are you alright?"

Go away. Can't let him see me like this.

His throat felt like sandpaper. He swallowed thickly, mentally preparing himself and called out, "Fine." The one word sliced his throat and he stopped himself from banging his head on the wall. No use in worrying West. He could handle this. Either he'll live through this or die.

"Well, if you get hungry..."

Silence and then West's retreating footsteps.

Ah, West. Trying to be a good brother even though you have no idea how to treat me now. He would have laughed if he wasn't trying to smother his coughs.

Why is it? He glared at his hands and then at everything around him.

Why is it that I'm the one in pain when…?

He trailed off. There was no point in thinking about it. Not really.

oOo

The silent chatter and buzz of his fairy friends was a comfort as England sat at his desk and relaxed into his work. Prussia was probably still sleeping and recovering from his fever. At the thought of the albino, England paused and glanced over in the direction of his room. The sight of the ex-nation sickly and weak was completely new for him and he could acknowledge that he had been worried. Not a lot mind you. He had, after all, been in wars with Prussia so he had seen him bloodied and bruised. In that respect, he wasn't worried worried. No. He was more…unsettled. Unsettled on how human like Prussia was in the midst of his delirium because no matter how injured or sick he was in battle, he always maintained an aura of invincibility, looking more like some god of war than a ghost. It made him wonder whether this sort of thing happened often (Prussia getting sick).

Well at least he seemed to be getting better if this morning was anything to go by. He smirked at Prussia's stubbornness. Honestly, Prussia could act like such a child. It was reminiscent of when America or Australia took sick.

But that cough. It sounded ghastly and England almost felt bad for him.

His musings were rudely cut short at the obnoxious noise of his phone ringing.

I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong
and he's gotta fast.

He dived for it, spotting it beneath his paperwork and fiddled with it trying to turn it off, hoping to God that Prussia was in his drugged sleep and couldn't here this abhorrent ring tone. When had America gotten to his phone anyway?

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero. I'm holding out for a hero 'til —

"What!" England yelled, catching himself and lowering his voice as he repeated his question. "What…do you want America."

"Dude! England, how's it going?"

His loud and cheerful voice both annoyed and frustrated him. Still, he wasn't about to forgive him for changing his bland ring tone into this.

"How many times have I warned you not to touch my phone? This is for work. If you must call me, use the phone number I provided you with."

"Aw, but that's some home phone and you almost never answer."

That was the point. He sighed though, willing himself not to get aggravated. "Why are you calling?"

"Oh! I wanted to invite you over. I haven't seen you like in forever. I bought some new movies and a new house in Michigan. It's pretty sweet. Canada —," there was a bit of a scuffle and England frowned at the sound of something breaking and America's loud 'no' before the phone went dead. England stared at it for a moment, wondering what just happened before it immediately started ringing again.

I need a he—

"America," England warned.

The other just laughed nervously. "Sorry bout that. Tony got jealous."

The alien. England scowled but forced himself to remain calm. After all it wouldn't do to wake Prussia up when he was recovering from an illness. It would probably make him more difficult and annoying. "I don't think I'll be welcomed," he settled with.

A 'Damn right you fucking limey' floated through the other end and England gritted his teeth.

"Aw, you're no fun."

England said nothing only stared at the papers in front of him, ball point pen resting neatly on the side. He moved it with his index finger watching it role around almost to the edge of the desk before stopping it and moving it back to where it was.

"I have work," he said. "Unlike some nations."

"Yeah, well, it wouldn't kill you to have some fun." There was a pause and then America's overly cheerful voice came back. "Well, I'll leave you to your work. I think I'll call Japan and see if he wants to come over. He might even bring a cool new video game. Talk to you later!"

"Bye," England said before they hung up. He leaned back in his chair, frown still on his face. Guess his company wasn't too fought after which was fine with him. Just fine.

"England."

He immediately sat straight and turned his attention to one of the fairies he'd left tending to Prussia. "What is it? Something wrong?" He was about to get up and check when she just shook her head and smiled.

"No. The white one is simply hungry. His fever has remained stable but his cough still sounds horrible."

He nodded, absorbing in the information before he stood up and headed towards the kitchen. He would boil some more tea for Prussia's throat and cook him a simple chicken broth. He'd have to go to the grocery store soon stock up on supplies but that could wait until Prussia could at least sit up on his own.

A/N: Yes I know. Late. Sorry it's just that I couldn't come across an opening scene. I guess you could say I had minor writer's block. Prussia getting sick was supposed to happen later but since it was the only thing that kept popping into my mind I decided to go with it for this chapter. I'd like to think all the lovely people who reviewed and I hope for some constructive criticism. There are probably many mistakes so if you could point them out for me that would be great. I'm kinda happy about this and I'm kinda not.