Summer is here! Expect more frequent updates soon! :) I just have two more exams left.

It was true what they said about siblings; it was impossible to have the same kind of love/hate relationship with anyone else in life.

At least, that's what America pondered over as he tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep due to the discomfort caused by his fever. There were simply things in life that he supposed couldn't be done with anyone else but a sibling.

America knew that this was especially true for twins.

If not for Canada than to whom would he spill his secrets to and laugh over stupid, inside jokes? Who was going to meet up with to talk about the nostalgic memories of the past and the days when his biggest fear was of a hairy monster, which he'd thought lurked inside the bathroom at night? Who was going to have movie nights with him and make him pancakes for breakfast whenever he visited? Most importantly, who was going to pull pranks on him and engage in crazy bets?

He was able to hang out with Canada without any pretense. He didn't have to worry about angering him because he knew that they were eventually going to reconcile anyway. They were equals in each other's eyes. When around each other, it was like they were children once more—carefree and joyful in the purest sense of the word. They really hadn't aged a bit, and would probably remain that way even upon reaching a ripe age that would leave them wrinkly and chuckling in matching, rickety, rocking chairs.

And America sincerely appreciated that (though he'd never dare to admit it).

As pearls of sweat began to make themselves known on his forehead, he clamored out of bed and took a spare blanket with him before tip-toeing across the hallway and into the guestroom, soundlessly pushing open the door; he was too restless to stay put.

"Pst? You sleeping, dude?"

A muffled grumble rose up from underneath the bedcovers, reverberating throughout the dimmed room. "Not anymore, America. What do you want?"

America bounded further inside, stretching out on the bed next to his twin and making himself comfortable. "I can't sleep," he plaintively whined, eyeing the closed curtains that were keeping the afternoon sunlight out of the room.

"Why's that? Are you still scared of the imaginary alligator under your bed? Should I call England to go check it out?" Canada teased playfully, nudging America in the arm.

"No! I'm not a little kid anymore!" America defended unhappily, stealing some of Canada's blankets to keep warm as a chill tore through his body. Why couldn't he just fast-forward through his sickness? Apparently, nature simply loved to drag things out through their full course. "I just feel like crap, and don't tell England I'm in here or he'll throw another hissy fit because he thinks I'm sleeping right now. If we keep quiet, we might be able to fool him into staying downstairs for another hour or so because he'll be afraid of accidentally waking us up."

Canada sighed, sitting up cautiously to keep from getting tangled up in the hoard of blankets. "Fine, but after an hour, you go back to your room, okay? I can only keep you entertained for so long before I start nodding off."

"Whatever you say, bro. I hope you're in the mood for cards. What do you say to a round of Texas Hold'em?" America suggested, pulling out the box of cards that he had snagged before venturing out of his room.

"Since I have no choice…" Canada surrendered, watching as America sat up as well and pulled out the deck. Then, he pried the cards out of his brother's hands and began to shuffle them properly. "I'll shuffle them just to make sure you don't cheat."

America pretended to look shocked. "And since when have I ever cheated?"

"Since the beginning of time. I know you too well to fall victim to your schemes." Canada replied slyly, sniffling slightly as he dealt out one card for each of them. "Highest card deals first. What are we betting?"

"England's supply of cough drops," America grinned, digging in the pocket of his sweatpants and pulling out a handful that he had stored for future use. Then, he flipped over his card and took the deck out of Canada's reach. "I got an Ace. I'm the dealer first."

America handed dealt out two cards each, face down. "I'm betting my watermelon cough drop for this one."

"I'll bet two of my horrible honey-flavored ones, then," Canada murmured, tossing the candies onto the center of the bed. "It's a good thing we aren't betting actual money; it would rack up your debt even more."

America rolled his eyes and let out a scratchy sneeze. "Oh, shut up. My economy is actually starting to do better, for your information. It's the entirety of Europe that we should be worried about. Well, except Germany of course. His damn country always pulls economic miracles out of thin air."

Canada smirked while raising the bet once more. "I doubt that you're actually concerned at how things are on the other side of the pond."

"I'm surprised at you, Mattie. Why are you always thinking so lowly of me? You really are just like ol' England," America noted with a whisper, trying to keep the conversation hushed and unnoticeable from downstairs.

"England doesn't think lowly of you. Well, not really anyway. He's actually pretty confident in your ability to bounce back even though he doesn't say it because he's too busy pretending to be irritated with the world," Canada assured, folding his hand. "And if you were really upset at him insulting you, you would've kicked him out of your life completely."

America sighed heavily and let out a string of harsh coughs, muffling them in his fist. How could he ever even imagine getting rid of England? Sure, their relationship was complicated. They were brothers, but not in the biological sense, which made things a bit trickier. Plus, he was more of a father figure. He couldn't have stupid discussions with England as he did with Canada because the nation was far older and had to be shown at least some amount of respect due their history together. There was a line that wasn't allowed to be crossed with the other man, and they both knew it.

And yet, America still felt that he needed England in his life because whenever he was in a sticky situation or in danger, he still looked for protection within England and not Canada. When times were tough, he didn't want a twin, he wanted someone older to take control, just as when he'd been a colony. In a sense, his childish need to be shown genuine, unconditional care had never really been outgrown. He supposed it was to be expected considering how quickly he'd been forced to mature and handle a nation of his own.

He coughed roughly once more, chest burning and aching from the force.

"Make sure you don't cough up a lung," Canada grimaced, patting his brother's back. "So much for staying quiet."

"I'm fine," America responded promisingly, face turning red as he tried to steady his breathing, but every time he inhaled, he would feel a persistent tickle in his chest that forced him to continue coughing violently.

"No, you're not, you liar. You need to drink some water," Canada ordered, abandoning their game momentarily.

And, imminently, England promptly arrived with an ill-tempered look on his face, glaring at America accusingly. He shook his head at the evidence of the forgotten mess of cards and exited the room, returning hastily with a fresh glass of water and offering it to the spluttering American with a long sigh. He kept from commenting until America had settled down again and sprawled out across the bed.

"You're supposed to be in bed, America, not playing poker," England scolded softly in order to refrain from giving his former colony a stronger migraine. He loomed over the bed and put a hand on America's forehead, checking his temperature. "I wouldn't insist that you be bedridden if I didn't think you needed it. You can sneak into Canada's room and be a cheeky brat once you're on the mend."

"Technically, I am in bed," America smiled dryly, clearing his throat roughly.

"America," England growled and put his hands on his hips impatiently. "Go back to your designated sick room, if you'd please. I'll take it that you haven't gotten a second of sleep. You've also hindered Canada's recovery."

America frowned, but bid Canada farewell, leaving him to clean up the aftermath of their 'gambling' session as he went back to his own bed. As he got himself comfortable again, he looked up at England balefully. "I can't sleep because of the fever and congestion. I might just upchuck on your shoes too, man."

England scowled in disgust, hitting America lightly on the leg. "If you weren't feeling well, you could've told me, and I would've helped you. After all, that is why I'm here. I trust you won't waste my time any longer. I'll get you a cold compress for your head, a wastebasket so you don't have to get out of bed if you feel nauseous, and I'll dig out the humidifier you have stored somewhere in the closet to help you breathe."

America furrowed his brows guiltily, feeling conflicted over having England doting on him. "You really don't have to do that. I'll be fine without—"

"I don't want to hear it. If I'm going to invest my time to help, then I'm going to make sure the time spent is worthwhile and effective," England interjected firmly, leaving no room for further discussion. "Just shut your eyes and try to relax. I'll take care of everything else."

Grumpily adhering to the instruction, America drew the comforter around himself snuggly once more, laying his aching head on the cool pillow. He heard England shuffle back and forth a few times before feeling an icy washcloth being placed on his forehead, causing him to shiver and tremble in shock from the sudden change in temperature. He hadn't realized how hot he had been until the compress started doing its job.

"Sorry about that," England apologized gently, pressing down on the washcloth before letting it rest in place. "You'll adjust to it."

The hum of the humidifier followed, lulling America's reeling mind as he quietly coughed and broke up the congestion in his lungs. He blew his nose miserably and closed his heavy-lidded eyes, overwhelmed with exhaustion, but unable to rest comfortably even after all of England's ministrations.

"Hmm," the green-eyed nation murmured, taking a seat next to America on the bed. "I see that you're going to need some help in falling asleep. Perhaps a distraction would help? I don't suppose a story will help like it used to when you were a colony?" he smiled a wiry smile, stamping a hand to the other's face to feel the intensity of the fever.

America blearily cracked open one eye, giving in to his fatigue. "Tell me a story about when Canada and I were kids."

"Oh, there are many," England sighed wistfully before standing up and heading to the nightstand a few feet away to rummage through some supplies. "Do you remember the time when Canada accidentally swallowed a watermelon seed, and you told him that a watermelon was going to grow inside of his stomach? The poor lad cried for hours before I could convince him otherwise."

America snickered deviously while suddenly remembering to pluck his glasses off of his face before setting them on his bedside table. "I remember that. I specifically told him that he was going to explode."

"Such a troublesome child," England droned with a shake of the head. "Or the time we found out that you're terribly allergic to shellfish."

America winced, trying to dispel the unpleasant memory. "Ugh, that was one of the worst experiences of my life. My entire face was swollen for days. I'll never touch a lobster again. Then again, I'd rather be allergic to shellfish than beestings like Canada."

"Ah, yes. I was reluctant to even let him go outdoors during the warmer seasons due to that pesky allergy of his."

America cleared his throat and sighed. "Not all of the memories were good ones…"

"Lord knows that's true," England agreed returning back to America's side with more water—bottled this time. "But we can't always have sunshine and daisies. Truth be told, I wouldn't want it anyway. I hope you know that I don't regret having any of my colonies in the first place, not even for a minute."

America lowered his eyes, suddenly feeling very hollow and frigid inside despite his raging fever. "You sure about that? I was a pain in the neck," he murmured, trying to sound playful and amused but failing miserably.

England sat beside America once more, a little frown working its way onto his face. "I'm certain, lad. I wouldn't take back any minute of it. Besides, I very well knew that I wouldn't be able to hold onto you forever, nor did I have any right to do so. You were always such a free-spirited and cheerful child, and it was never my place to keep you tied to the likes of an empire such as myself. You were always destined to pave your own road. Of course, I wasn't chuffed to bits about it, but the truth isn't always in our favor."

America nodded contently. The invitation of sleep was finally overcoming him, and he drew the blankets closer to his chest. "Thanks, England."

"What for?"

"For everything," America mumbled, falling asleep.

England sighed, standing up. "More trouble than he's worth…"

The sound of his phone vibrating was what woke Canada up from his light doze, and he quickly answered it without sparing a second to check the caller ID.

"Mon cher Mathieu! Are you well? You weren't in the hotel room and—"

Canada rubbed his eyes and turned over on his side. "Bonjour, Francis. I'm at Alfred's house since we're both ill."

There was a flurry of movement on the other side of the line. "Mon Dieu! Both ill? I'll be there as soon as I can to make sure you're okay."

Canada immediately felt himself gain awareness after that statement. "I'm fine, Francis. You don't have to come over. England is already here to help us out."

"Angleterre? I can't trust him to take care of you, mon lapin. You need warm broth and tea, but that Britannique cannot be left in the kitchen. I have Amérique's address and am on my way," Francis assured, preparing to end the call.

"I'm not a child, anymore. It's alright," Canada protested, knowing that having France and England in the same household was never a good mix.

Canada could almost hear France smiling through the phone. "You'll always be a child to me, mon cher. Au revoir!"

A click followed, signaling the end of the conversation. Canada sighed and put his phone back on the nightstand, running a hand through his hair with a wide yawn.

Then, the door creaked open slowly, revealing England's concerned green eyes.

"Canada? Are you alright? I heard you talking on the phone," he interrogated, standing in the doorway.

"I'm okay, thanks. France called to ask how I'm doing. He insisted on visiting to check up on me. I tried to get him to change his mind…"

England crossed his arms. "That bloody frog thinks that I can't handle the situation on my own?"

"No, I'm sure it's nothing personal against you," Canada lied smoothly and reassuringly. "He's just worried. You would do the same thing if you were in his place. In fact, you're doing it right now."

England begrudgingly nodded his head and relented, moving his arms to rest at his sides again. "Alright, but he's only staying for a moment and not a minute longer!"

"Whatever you say," Canada said before sneezing softly. "How's America holding up?"

England patiently passed the younger nation a wad of fresh tissues. "He's sleeping, though I doubt it's doing him much good with all of the tossing and turning that he's been doing. I'll have to wake him soon if he doesn't settle down. The last thing I want is for him to fall off of the bed and hurt himself."

Canada sniffled quietly. "Sorry to hear that. I'm sure he'll be fine. If it's not a problem, I think I'm going to head to the living room for a while. It's getting kind of stuffy in this room, and I could use a change of scenery."

"That's fine. Do you need any help getting settled downstairs?"

"That's okay. I'll manage."

England narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure about that? You aren't going to lie to me like America, are you?"

Canada smiled in a sickly- sweet manner. "Of course not."

England chuckled with a roll of the eyes. "Alright, off you go then. Rest on the couch for a bit. I'll be downstairs as soon as I make sure that America's not a serious hazard to himself."

And with that, Canada gathered his cellphone, pillow and blankets before treading his way downstairs, wondering when France was going to make an appearance. It certainly wouldn't be long now.

"Calm down. It's just a nightmare."

America groaned loudly, head pounding and feeling like lead as he peeled his eyes open to meet the world. There was a hand on his shoulder that was massaging his stiff muscles there in a soothing manner. It was a welcome gesture after all of the pain that was pelting his limbs upon awakening.

"What time is it?" he rasped, reaching out a hand and blindly searching for something to grasp for reassurance.

"Just after six o'clock. You've been sleeping for nearly two hours. You need to try to eat something, now," England replied, removing his hand from America's shoulder and sitting back in the chair that he had dragged next to America's bedside.

He coughed painfully. "Where's Canada?"

"In the living room, watching television."

"Lemme go downstairs to talk to him."

England shook his head. "Not yet. Like I said, you need to eat, and then you need to bathe because you're drenched in sweat from your fever breaking."

America suddenly noticed his damp hair and shirt with disgust, groaning once more to express his unhappiness with the entire predicament.

"How is Amérique?"

America's head shot up, causing his migraine to pulsate as he watched the other European nation step into the room. "France? What are you doing here?"

"Making sure Angleterre hasn't poisoned Mathieu or yourself," France replied coyly. "I already gave Mathieu a lecture on how to take better care of one's health; you missed it."

"It's alright. I think England's already got that covered. I'm surprised he hasn't kicked you out yet."

England glowered and opened his mouth to speak, but France interjected him without missing a beat. "He needed my fantastique culinary skills. I made a délicat soup, if you'd like to try it."

"Sounds great," America said honestly, sitting up and removing the cold compress off of his forehead.

England, however, seemed to be opposed to the idea, which really wasn't much of a surprise. "You should start with some water and saltines before you have any of what the frog's made," he recommended, passing America a new water bottle and a small plate of unsalted crackers. "Have a few and then you'll clean up and change out of these sodden clothes."

"Ugh… Whatever you say England. Sorry France, I promise to at least try some later," America promised, feeling a little guilty that everyone was going through so much trouble for his sake.

"Qui,I understand. Angleterre can be a mother-hen."

"I most certainly am not! I'm doing what any conscientious nation would do to be of assistance," England defended his actions, eyebrows furrowed.

France smirked slyly and offered England a wink before turning toward America. "You know, Amérique, there was a time when Angleterre wouldn't let me touch a hair on Mathieu's head, let alone yours. Everything changed after the revolution of course, but as much as it pains me to admit it, he did a good job of protecting you both. He reminded me of a furious mother bear, snapping at the smallest movement directed at a cub. It was very impressive. He could sniff out danger from a mile away. He tried to maul me many times."

America laughed hoarsely, choking a bit on his water. He poked England in the ribs jokingly. "That sounds like a pretty accurate description, man. Imagine that; England as a bear. Kinda scary if you think about it."

"Alright, I've had enough of you both," England huffed, blushing comically. He crossed the length of the room and directed a finger at France's chest menacingly. "He's yours for now. I'm going to join Matthew in the living room, seeing as he is more civil than you lot."

America pouted. "Aww, England, don't be that way. We were just kiddin'."

"You always had the easier twin as a colony," England murmured to the Frenchman, disappearing down the hallway.

France smiled mischievously. "Let him go. He needs a break. So, Amérique, it's been a while since we've been able to talk. How have things been?"

"Dude, you have no idea!" America began animatedly. "You have to check out our new drones. I can have my people send you over a few to test out. It's pretty awesome. Just don't tell England I told you because he won't be too happy about it. I offered him the chance to try 'em out as well, but you know how he is; all posh and unwilling to try anything remotely cool."

France listened to America ramble for a good fifteen minutes, all the while brooding over how much he'd missed spending time with the twins.

"Can we please change the channel already?"

"No! I love the twelfth cycle of 'America's Next Top Model'!"

"We've seen it so many times, and every time you start complaining for hours about how Allison should've won."

"Of course she should've won! Teyona was hot too, but Allison was way more original and took better photos."

"I don't want to hear this again. Just please change the channel."

"But nothing else is on at this time!"

"How do you know if you have been watching this marathon for two hours? CHANGE THE CHANNEL."

England and France exchanged glances in the kitchen, tilting their heads in confusion at the argument taking place between the twins in the living room. Both nations walked onto the scene, cups of tea at hand as their eyes roved over the forms of Canada and America sprawled out on the couch together, covered in a pile of blankets and fighting over the remote control.

Canada gripped America's wrist firmly, trying to get him to loosen his hold on the remote. "I've had enough of Tyra Banks for one day!"

"Dude, come on this is the best episode! This is the one where they are on the beach in their swimsuits!"

"Is that the only reason you watch this show? For the half-naked girls? You pervert."

America began lying through his teeth. "That's not true! I watch it for the art of modeling!"

England cleared his throat loudly, trying to break up the fight. "Gentlemen?"

"Give it here!"

"Make me!"

"I plan to!"

France chuckled merrily and sipped at his tea, watching as England set down his own cup on the coffee table and tried to pry the two nations off of each other.

"You're both acting like children! France, make yourself useful and help me!"

"I prefer to remain nonaligned, mon cher."

England finally managed to get through to the twins by snatching the remote out of America's hand at just the right moment.

The effect was instantaneous. Both nations frowned in unison. "HEY!"

"That's quite enough!"

"It's my house and my T.V, so I get to choose what we watch," America said sternly, folding his arms over his chest in stubborn pursuit of his goal.

England lifted the remote and wagged it in a chiding manner. "While you are under mine and France's supervision, the house is shared, and as the guests, we should be treated with more respect. I see that after many years of lecturing, you two still haven't learned how to properly share with one another."

Canada lowered his eyes and muttered, "More like America didn't learn how to share."

"Sharing is communism," America stated petulantly.

England scoffed. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. This household is a democracy, and I'm requesting a compromise in this situation. Now, can we please have a bipartisan agreement?"

Canada and America glared at one another in silence before America decided to open his big mouth again. "Our countries may all be democracies, but this is my property and I declare it a fascist state with me as the leader of the totalitarian rule."

A vein on England's temple twitched. "America…"

"Fine, fine," America sighed wearily. "This is my manor and therefore we have a system of feudalism. You guys are my serfs working on the manor, and I, in turn, offer you guys my heroic protection from outsiders."

Canada intervened. "In that case, I call for a revolution. Down with the bourgeoisie! Long live Marxism! Equality for all oppressed peasants!"

America's eyes widened. "Who would've thought my own twin would turn out to be a no good commie?"

"I'd rather be a communist than a fascist!"

America gasped. "Oh, no you did not!"

England brought a hand to his head in frustration. "That's it! If you both can't make a compromise, then neither of you will get to watch television! It's about time that both of you went to bed anyway. Out, now! I want you both upstairs and out of sight!"

Both twins stood up and gathered their blankets and pillows, grumbling to each other grimly the entire way.

"England's the real dictator around here, considering he's still clinging to his monarchy," America whispered to Canada, thinking they were out of earshot.

Canada nodded with a dry smile. "Tell me about it."

Meanwhile, England turned to face France, still fuming. He took a tentative sip of tea to relax himself before casting daggers in France's direction and saying, "You can have them both if you'd like."

France shook his head, biting down a grin. "No, merci."