Illness.
"Hey England! You totally missed the meeting dude! It was awesome! I presented my totally cool idea about giant robots!" America crashed into the large cottage. He glanced around the hallway, looking for a blonde gentleman. France followed after him.
"Euh. Angleterre waz probably juzt 'iding after realizing just 'ow hideous 'iz eyebrows are."
"Really?" France shook his head at America's naivety.
"Oui." America crashed through a couple of rooms, searching for England.
"Dude! Where are you?" He yelled needlessly loud as he walked down the upstairs corridor.
A loud cough responded as a door open.
A red faced, disorientated green eyed man stumbled from a room. He looked around dazed, before disappearing back into his bedroom. The two invading blonde men watched stunned. The action had been so random and they were surprised that he didn't yell at them for basically breaking down his door.
They followed after him into his bedroom to find him lying down in his bed again. They peered at him while he laid there with his eyes half closed sleepily.
"Hey Artie? Ya okay? You look totally shitty."
"Oui. Worse than usual and zat's saying something." England opened his eyes properly.
"Huh? Is that America? And France..." He smiled suddenly as if he was happy to see them. They both jumped back in surprise. He was obviously sick. There was a long pause before America blurted out.
"Oh Man! England's been proded!"
"….typical American…" France muttered under his breath before correcting America loudly. "He 'as a common cold Amerique." He said, leaning over to examine England, but not too closely. Most women and men do not find sick people attractive – no matter how gorgeous he is.
"A what? What the hell is a 'commocold', dude? Just speak English! I can't understand your weird language." France looked hurt. America had misheard France because of his accent.
"My language izn't weird and I waz speaking English…." He was ignored though.
"He probably is just sick or something. Don't worry! This hero has something to make him better!" The cheerful tall blonde pulled out a burger and placed it on the ill man's forehead. "Taadaa!"
France was silent. Was America really this dense or stupid?
In the silence a door could be heard opened and closed. There were footsteps as someone came up the stair, and one voice talking by itself. Obviously the person was either on the phone or a psycho. French recognised the accent.
"Aye. I jus' arrived. Aye. I'mma just checking on him now." He sounded annoyed and tired. Scotland entered the room, ignoring the already present two blondes that he was not related to, only looking at his younger brother. He raised his eyebrow at the burger.
"Aye. I see him. He's fine, he's jus' sick, tha's all." The person on the phone talked before the redhead randomly placed the back of his free hand on France's forehead and the back of the hand, the one holding the phone, on his own forehead. France blinked in surprise. It was strange behaviour but he remained silent due to shock and politeness. Scotland waited a couple of seconds before removing his hands.
"Nar. I'm nae sick eithar so it's nae the ecomny's fault. It's jus' a regular cold tha humans git." He had obviously just taken his own temperature, using France as a guide. He listened to the other person before scoffing.
"Ye wannae picture? Is meh word nae enuff?..." He sighed before holding up the camera lens on his phone to England. It flashed and he returned to the phone call.
"See! He's jus' ill. Canne I jus' gah home now?"
"Dud~" America began only to be cut off by Scotland's hand swiftly covering his mouth.
"Whit? Git Wales ta dee it! He's tha one tha' usually does it anaeway." America bit the bare hand and Scotland glared at him, removing the hand but placing a finger to his own lips, signalling for silence. He listened to the man on the phone more and scowled slightly.
"Aye. Fine!" He waited before talking again.
"Aye. Tah." He hanged up.
He turned to France. "Thankfully ma boss decided that Wales is gonnae be at tha world meeting taemorrow insteed of meh. Dinnae dare think of molesting him." France had thought they were talking about looking after England, but it was about the world meeting tomorrow.
"Oui."
"Gud. I'm leaving." The red head turned and made to leave when an American called out.
"Hey? Are you just gonna leave England here?"
"Aye. Yer here so I'm not."
"But he's sick I think!" The blonde protested.
"Weel, look afta him. Yer tha damn hero or something!" Scotland had soon exited the room. America blinked before grinning.
"Guess even he has to admit that I'm a Hero!" He said excitably and proudly. France rolled his eyes.
"Au revoir, Amerique. Remember tomorrow's meeting."
"See ya dude and don't worry about England! I'll look after him!" America laughed confidently as France left, after taking one last worried look at the hamburger that sat on England's forehead.
It had only been a few hours since America had been left in charge of a sick England but already he was bored out of his mind. He also had to go to that boring meeting tomorrow. It was in Belgium or something. It didn't matter if he was late anyway – the meeting couldn't begin without the Hero.
America had fallen asleep from lack of activity and was dozing in a chair in the bedroom. The door opened again as someone else entered the blonde's house.
For an isolated country with few friends, he had a lot of visitors.
The man came into the room and looked around. He sighed irritably, placing a large plastic bag full of various things down on the ground when he saw the man sleeping in a bomber jacket. He grabbed the man and carried him out of the room and threw him on the bed in one of the guest bedrooms.
"Edjit bampot…." He muttered quietly in annoyance. He closed the door silently, not wishing to wake America and having to deal with him.
He returned to England's room. He scowled at the useless cold, soggy hamburger on his face before tossing it out of the window. What a pointless attempt at a cure for a cold!
He replaced it with one of those cool gel packs that he had found at the pharmacy. It was apparently good for fevers. He didn't really know as the last time he was sick was 1999. He was sieving through the items he had bought.
He placed a thermometer in the blonde's mouth and read the temperature. He scowled as it read 39.8oC. That was a high temperature if he remembered right.
He was looking through the shopping bag again when England woke up. His head felt cold but the rest of his body still felt hot, sticky and stiff. The world was blurry, his head ached painfully and his body felt weak. He tried to sit up but a hand pressed him back down gently. He squinted at the figure and saw red hair but his mind protested when he tried to identify the person.
"Nuh… My head…" His voice was dry and raspy. It hurt to speak.
"Stay doon. Yer sick."
"B-but… paper work…" The figure paused.
"Donnae worry… It'll be gone when ye wake up agen…" England relaxed a little. He felt better, knowing that work was no longer a problem. He coughed suddenly and his chest exploded in pain.
"Wait a tad." The person disappeared. He could hear sounds from his kitchen that seemed too loud and noisy, which echoed around inside his head and made his head throbbed. The person returned and helped prop the blonde up a little.
"Drink this." He stomached gurgled slightly but he had no appetite.
"…No…" He struggled weakly to push away the bowl of whatever it was.
"I cannae give ye yer medicine 'til ye've eaten something." The voice sounded kind and loving, like it truly cared for him. England nodded slightly. He wanted medicine.
The red head studied the blonde for a moment. England had made no move for the chicken soup he had heated. It was just simple tinned chicken soup but he had added chilli peppers and garlic to help boost it's healing properties. Unfortunately the English seemed unable to eat by himself.
The red head grabbed the metal spoon and blew on the hot soup. He held it up to England's mouth and tipped it in. He ate it easily. He repeated this until the entire bowl of soup was gone. The blonde looked a little better already.
The red head took out cough syrup and a packet of paracetamol. He gave the short blonde the medicine.
England still had difficulty sleeping though. He kept sniffing and he had a hard time breathing. He tossed and turned a lot.
"Try and lie still… Ye need yer sleep…" The blurry figure's voice tried to soothe him though. It sounded so gentle and warm. It made him feel very safe. He relaxed but his body still groaned. The medicine still hadn't taken effect yet.
He moaned quietly. Even though it was fuzzy, he could see the side of the red haired man's mouth turn down in a frown.
"It's okay… ye'll be fine… I promise…" England nodded, red faced and weak.
"Will it help if I sing a wee lullaby?" England nodded again, staring up happily at the man who was helping him out so carefully and fondly.
"Oor màthair used tah sing this tah meh when we was a wee babes…. But I doubt ye canne remember tha'…"
England tried to think and remember the tune and this person as he began to hum the tune. It was long before he was singing.
"Bà i ù o hò
Bà i ù o hò
Bà i ù o hò
Bà i ò ho bà"
The words were strange and he couldn't understand stand it. He wondered if this was because of the cold or if it was just a different language.
"Gheibh thu bainne bhuam
Gheibh thu bainne bhuam
Gheibh thu bainne bhuam
Chan ann fuar ach blàth
Cha bhi mise bhuat
Cha bhi mise bhuat
Cha bhi mise bhuat
Mach air uair no dhà"
He soon stopped trying to think though as the song slowly began to relieve him. It was slow, quiet, peaceful and steady and though the voice was slightly gruff and an average singer, England still began to doze off.
"Caidil thusa luaidh
Caidil thusa luaidh
Caidil thusa luaidh
Is na gluais gu là "
Soon he was asleep peaceful and the red head stood up and left him to slumber.
During the night, a certain red hair man, kept revisiting the room, checking up on the blonde. When the blonde was too hot, he would place a new cool pack on his forehead. When the blonde was too cold, he would place an extra duvet on him to warm him up.
He would come in every hour to check his temperature and place some fresh food on the small table. When he wasn't with the blonde, he was writing, filling in paper work and writing long, boring reports. He stayed up for most of the night.
England woke up a while later. His headache was nearly gone, though his throat still hurt. He sat up dizzily. He noticed a bowl of warm, lumpy porridge at his side, a mug of lem-sip and a packet of lemon soothers. He drank the medical hot liquid and half of the porridge. The porridge had a sickly amount of honey in it, to help him eat it and to ease his ragged throat.
He looked around him, wondering where the things had come from. He remembered the start of the nightly a little. A kind figure that had helped him and sang to him so he could sleep. They were probably the same person. He peeled off the cool gel pack. It was still cold like it was new.
He noticed that the bin in the corner was full of the cooling pads, like someone had been regularly replacing them. There was a bowl of water, a wet towel and a dry towel at the side. He wasn't as sweaty or over heated as he thought he would be, so someone must have been wiping down his face and keeping him dry.
The room was dark apart from his bedside lamp. He stood up unsteadily and wrapped the extra blanket, which someone had placed on him while he was asleep, around him. He still had a fever so the air felt freezing.
He exited the room and wandered slowly along to the bathroom. He stopped outside the study as he saw the light shine under the door. He pushed it open slightly.
A man was sitting at a desk with his head resting on it. England crept closer to see who it was.
It was Scotland, he had fallen asleep.
He peered over his brother's shoulder and glance at the stack of paper that he was leaning on. He recognised it as paper work and, to be specific, England's paperwork. He carefully tugged one piece of paper from under the older man and read it.
It was well written and highly detailed, well doned and up to England's high standards of work. He looked at the rest of the paper. There was a lot of it and it was all done and filled out properly. It must have taken a long time to do all this work plus his own paper work for his own parliament.
He glanced at an alarm clock. It was 3:48 in the morning. England blinked.
It was very late….
Uh… early?...
It was 3:48 in the morning anyway.
He smiled slightly. Scotland had stayed awake all night, working and taking care of England. He felt touched and a strange feeling he didn't recognise…
He watched the red head as he breathed in and out gently in his sleep. He removed the blanket from his own shoulders and laid it top of Scotland gently, careful not to wake him. He quickly walked back to his room, after visiting the bathroom, and fell back to sleep.
The red head woke up at 4:00 when the alarm went off. His body felt heavy. He sat up and the duvet slipped off. He looked in surprised at the thrown blanket. He noticed it was the one he had left on England after he had began shivering.
He checked in on the blond, cautiously. He was asleep again but the porridge was partially eaten and the lem-sip was gone. The man smiled slightly, moving the thick spikes of blonde from his face. He trailed his long thin finger through the messy dirty blonde hair. England gave a soft sigh in his sleep. Scotland gave him a small kiss on the fore head before disappearing out of the door to fetch more food.
In the morning, England was woken out by a loud obnoxious voice and a sudden flash of green light.
"Hey Dude! Ya feeling better yet?" The door slammed open and England bolted right up. America had just crashed in. His clothes and bomber jacket were badly wrinkled like he had slept in them. England cleared his throat with a small cough.
"Yes. Actually I am. And do keep your voice down in the morning." His voice was still a little dry, but his fever was completely gone, as was his head ache. America ignored the second part.
"Awesome! Does that mean you will be able to go to the meeting today?" England shook his head. He had slept all night but he still felt weak and tired.
He was surprised he had gotten over the cold so quickly and easily. He would have to thank his brother later.
That's when he remembered that his usually cold and distant brother had been not so cold and distant and had actually taken care of him. He stood up and walked out his room, past America, down the hallway and into the study.
Scotland was gone, so was his paperwork assumedly sent off to his boss. America had followed him, chatting non-stop.
He returned to his room. The porridge bowl, mug and soother sweets were gone, as were the extra blankets and cool packs and the water bowl. It was like the elusive red head was never here.
"England! Are you paying attention?"
"Uh. Yes. You somehow ended up in my spare room and you think it has something to do with aliens."
"Yeah. It was like someone just chucked me on the bed roughly. Obviously I was aducted or something. The aliens must have wanted to examine a hero like me."
"Hmmm… Did you see my brother, Scotland, this morning?"
"Oh that guy. He totally bailed after he found out you were sick."
"What?"
"Yeah. Yesterday, he walked in, told your boss you were sick and then left. He was only here, like 5 minutes."
"That can't be right. He was the one who looked after me." America laughed.
"You still feeling sick? I told ya, he left after just seeing you and left me in charge." England frowned slightly. He swore that he remember his brother being here. He knew he was sick but he was so sure that he was here….
He picked up his phone and called Scotland's house, wanting to comfirm the truth. It would be impossible for Scotland to leave after 3:48 and arrived back in his house by this time. It was picked up quickly though.
"Aye?"
"Scotland?"
"Och. Whit dee ye want, England! It's bloody 8 o'clock in the morning!" He replied angrily.
"Uh. Oh. Nothing. Sorry for bothering you…."
"Ye betta!" He hung up suddenly. England stared into space, keeping the phone on his ear, still trying to figure what was reality and what was not. He felt so confused. He sneezed suddenly, reminding him that he was still sick. He wiped his nose with a hankie and sniffed.
"I'm going back to bed… You have a world meeting in an hour… and if I remember right, it is in Belgium."
"Crap! I'm going to be late. Not that it matters. The meeting can't start without me!" He laughed loudly before leaving. England sighed and returned back to bed.
In Scotland's house...
Scotland slide down the wall, exhausted.
That was close. He had only just managed to use a quick teleport spell, just as America entered the room. It had used up a lot of energy and after being awake all night, he felt shattered. He yawned widely. A small fairy rested on his shoulder.
"You look tired, sir."
"Jus' a tad."
"You were looking after Mister England all night right?"
"Aye."
"So why did you pretend that you didn't? He would have been happy if he knew it was you. You two could have gotten closer." Scotland gave a small sad smile.
"Aye…. I guess it's jus' a force o' habit…"
(A/N - I hope you like this story yoong'. I tried and follow your plot. I had fun writing it but I have a feeling, I'm not that good at writing fluff...
The song Scotland sand is a Gaelic lullaby that I like. The lyrics are sweet too. Here's the translation.
Bà i ù o hò
Bà i ù o hò
Bà i ù o hò
Bà i ò ho bà (Random noises basically- this part doesn't mean anything)
I'll give you milk
I'll give you milk
I'll give you milk
Not cold but warm
I wouldn't be away from you
I wouldn't be away from you
I wouldn't be away from you
Apart from once or twice
You sleep my love
You sleep my love
You sleep my love
And don't stir until daybreak
REVIEW please! I don't mind requests either. Warning next one shot is not fluff but the storys after it will be fluff when I finally post them. I'm not going to post them though until I have finished story 8 and 7. But I have written a couple chapters of them though so be patient until i finish these ones.)