I don't own Hetalia! end/AN/
Molossia had barely protested as he was thrown over America's shoulder like a sack of beans and carried out to the SUV. There had been a feeble attempt to push himself up, but that had ended halfway through the way there.
America had buckled him in the back seat, worried, fussed, tucked blankets around him and shoved a water bottle in his hand.
Molossia hadn't said a word, slumping in the seat like the life had already been taken out of him.
Fearful, America had driven the way back to his house with almost constant talking to the backseat, vigorously prompting Molossia to groan or make other small noises in response whenever he thought he'd been quiet for too long.
England wasn't there when they got there, and neither was anyone else. America had thought, for a moment, that the government would try to stop him, but he shrugged this off now as paranoia.
Molossia was transferred onto the couch, tucked in tightly, and watched like he might explode any moment.
That was when the phone rang.
"I took a jet; I hope you're happy."
"England! You have no idea how happy that makes me. Now you just got to get over here, okay?" America spoke into the phone while watching Molossia, as if one second glancing away could be the moment.
"Yes, I'm taking a cab, don't get your knickers in a twist! I'm sure all of this is far less dire than you're making it out to be!" England's voice was irritable, like he'd been awoken from a nap to come to America.
America said back, "This is important, I swear! If you could see him, you'd freak out as much as I am! Just get here quick, please!"
"I am coming! Stop freaking out! I will see you in fifteen minutes!"
And with that, England had hung up.
In the meantime, America felt Molossia's forehead. It felt even hotter, he was sure, than before. He talked to Molossia, saying, "Hey, buddy, come on, stay awake. Talk to me, just one word, okay? Just one."
Molossia gave a miserable whimper, and his face was hot and so openly genuine, showing every bit of his distress; he looked like a child in the throes of sickness. America took his face in his hands, saying, "Hey, look, cool hands, isn't that nice? Do you want ice? Will that help? Or do you want to be warm?"
Molossia made a weird sound then, feebly struggling and quite suddenly there were tears coming down his face.
America wiped at them, saying, "No, no, don't cry, you need fluids! Are you too warm?"
He got a faint shake of the head.
"Are you too cold?"
A nod this time. Molossia let out a shudder at the same time.
America sighed, saying, "Let me go get some more blankets, okay? I'll get you nice and warm, I promise."
It took a bit of rummaging, but soon America had an old quilt, a 101 Dalmatians comforter, and a fleece throw that had a deer on it. He bundled up Molossia in all that, basically making him a cocoon of blankets besides the thin comforter he'd brought from his home.
America turned on the TV, and sat back with Molossia.
It was longer than England had said it would take, but he did eventually arrive.
"All right, show me him so I can tell you you've blown things completely out of proportion…" England grumbled as he let himself in, blustering in past the foyer and into the living room.
America pointed, saying, "He hasn't even talked, England! All he can do is make little noises that sound like he's dying! Is he dying? Please, if he's dying-"
"Let me get a bloody look at him!" England stormed, as he came over next to Molossia and dug his wrist out of the blankets to feel for a pulse. He seemed to find one, because he moved on to put the back of his hand on Molossia's forehead.
Molossia seemed to fight England feebly, heated face trying to turn away as his fever-shut eyes twitched under the lids.
England gave a sigh, face serious.
"What? What is it?" America asked, hovering anxiously.
England looked at him, an almost apologetic look on his face. "I'm afraid your assessment might be correct; he may indeed be dying."
"I told you that! He's being dissolved by the government! That's why you're here, you have to preserve him!" America felt like exploding, but he narrowly held back from that.
England looked irritated. "Well, that isn't exactly simple, America. As you should know, if micronation dissolves under its own power, then the micronation lives as a normal human; but if it's being done in a more violent, forceful manner, it can snuff them out. It looks like that's the case with Molossia."
"Well? What can we do?" America was impatient, as always.
"I'm not sure what we can do." England looked thoughtful, seeming to search his memory for such a case, and what he did then.
Well, there wasn't time for that! America snapped, "Stop standing around like an old man and do something!"
"I am doing something; I'm thinking, something I'm sure you're not too fond of," England said irritably. He'd crossed his arms, as if this were a simple matter of name-calling, not the dire issue it was.
"Look, just cause you don't care about Sealand doesn't mean I don't care about Molossia! I want him around, and I want him to live! I-"
"I care about Sealand! Don't you ever imply that I don't again!" England's eyes were flashing, as he glared at America. "Caring about someone and liking them are entirely different things!"
America fumed. They were getting nowhere, and Molossia was surely only getting sicker by the moment. He tried to calm himself. "I'm… I'm sorry. Do you have a plan?"
England chewed on his lip, looking Molossia up and down. "I might… But you're not going to like it."
/AN/ I hope you enjoyed this second chapter! I suppose I intend this to be a threeshot at least.
Oh, and I accidently reviewed this story myself because I thought it wasn't working, so I tested it out under the mistaken belief that I could just remove it. It's not because I was trying to make it look better; I'm just a dork.