Of Pride and Colds Hetalia fic

[cupkake]

I don't think I've ever obsessed over an anime this much since the Fruit's Basket phase of '08. I adore USUK and I adore this scenario, and I've been wanting to write Hetalia for a long long time and this is my first fanfic for it so fingers crossed that you guys think I did okay. And I actually have this one completely finished but I'm splitting it up into two parts because if I posted it all at once it'd be so long. Anyway.

________

McDonald’s was always the ideal date when it came to Alfred. Cheap, yet premium chicken as vouched for by the box, ice cream, salads, what didn’t the place have to offer? They even had calorie charts, and despite how Arthur always complained about how the golden arches were a metaphor for the “golden gates you’re gonna see when this crap gives you a heart attack,” he’d still enter the doors and seat himself in a booth of varying cleanliness whenever Alfred was in the mood. Sometimes, he’d just watch Alfred eat, chat about life, sometimes he’d even cave and order something himself. Shamrock shakes always seemed to placate him, at least enough that he didn’t criticize them afterwards. After all these months of coming here, Alfred knew that even if Arthur would never admit, McDonald’s was growing on him.

He munched on the last few bites of his big mac hungrily, ignoring the grease stains as per usual. Across the table Arthur was sipping at his shamrock shake. About 7/8’s of it still remained.

“I mean, I’m just not sure what to do about it,” Alfred said, mouth full. “China thinks my boss is stupid, and I just don’t know.”

Arthur muttered a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement, gazing out the window. Alfred noticed that his nose was twitching, and a glazed kind of look was washed over the Brit’s face.

“Hey, are you listening to me? That was important, top secret, and-“

“You’re insecure about your bonds with Yao nowadays because he’s doing better and your boss is-“Arthur paused, biting his lip, holding his breath. He scrunched his nose and exhaled, before finishing, “-dragging you down.”

“Yeah.” Alfred sighed, shaping his wrapper into a football and flicking it across the table. “How come you haven’t finished your shake yet babe?”

“Hm? I’m getting there.” Arthur took another sip for Alfred’s sake, it seemed. The volume of the transparent container stayed the same. He dissolved into a quiet fit of coughing afterwards. He looked into Alfred’s wide blue eyes when he was finished. “Don’t look at me like that you git, that went down the wrong way. I’m okay,” He broke off to cough once more, “okay now, you see?” He took another small sip.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Alfred chuckled, unwrapping his third burger.

“That’s such a petty thing to…” Arthur paused in the middle of his sentence, again. Alfred lowered his burger, as Arthur hastily pulled a few napkins out of the dispenser. “t-to...Hih’HpkT! Ih…Ih’Eptshew! To be concerned about. Snf. Excuse me.” He sneezed, quietly. Too quietly. Alfred had been around him long enough to know that his true sneezes were louder than that, more messy most of the time. Of course, the Brit was always shy about losing control of himself in public.

“Bless you, babe.”

Arthur sniffed against a now saddened napkin and nodded his thanks. He took another baby sip from his shake.

“Is your shake not good today?” Alfred pressed further. Usually, Arthur could down those by the time he’d finished his second burger.

“It’s fine.” Arthur snapped. He realized his mistake and gently said, “I’m not very hungry right now is all.”

“Not hungry? You barely ate anything at the summit today! Jeez, this is why you’re so thin. Dang it, I’m gonna ask Ludwig to design something that’ll let me trade appetites with you.”

Arthur smiled thinly, “Perhaps you should just make it yourself.” He coughed into his fist.

“Hey, are you okay?” Arthur looked up, eyes wider than they had been.

“Peachy keen, as always. Why wouldn’t I be?” Arthur sounded more defensive than inquiring.

“Well, you’ve barely touched your shake for one,” Alfred continued before Arthur could protest, “and you seem out of it. You can tell me if you don’t feel good, you know that.” Alfred knew Arthur didn’t like to admit he wasn’t feeling good, because a) it was a sign of weakness, being taken care of made him feel like a child, and c) he was stubborn as hell and Arthur Kirkland never took ill (except when he was caught). Literally, Arthur is never sick until he’s caught. Always trying to change the subject, or even hide it and fail miserably in the end. Like that one time he got lucky and passed a cold off as allergies and it went okay until he collapsed straight onto the streets of Tokyo, or that other time when he’d tried to deny having the flu and had to be dragged out of the world summit by a concerned Francis.

Alfred learned to see the signs though. A.) Arthur would retreat to himself more often, his sentences were always peppered with reassurances of his condition and c) if you paid close enough attention, you’d notice the runny nose, the pale skin, the slight trembles, how miserable Arthur allowed himself to feel for the sake of preserving his dignity.

“I’m alright, Alfred. Now, finish your burger. It’s getting cold.” Arthur mumbled, rubbing his nose again.

“Okay, mother.” Alfred took a juicy bite of hamburger, reveling in the crinkle of the dark spotted wrapper. He never stopped concentrating on Arthur. After a few moments filled with only the sound of Alfred’s chewing, Arthur’s breath hitched urgently. Alfred watched as he pressed down hard on the side of his nose before swallowing tentatively. He chose not to say anything, to let the scene play out. Arthur clumsily slid out of the booth, before anything happened, muttering something about “needing to use the loo,” Maybe it was the lighting, but Arthur looked unsteady, swaying like grass in a gentle breeze. Then he disappeared into the only part of McDonald’s Alfred didn’t take pride in.

Alfred took the opportunity to wolf down the rest of his sandwich. He wiped his mouth on his hand and then decided he’d check on Arthur after he’d cleared the table of everything they’d purchased. Maybe he was just looking into things too much, but his boy’s usually vibrant skin looked pale today. He pushed open the door gently, and slowly. Sure he probably looked like a creep but he represented the United States of America and if he wanted to open a goddamn public bathroom door so that it made no sound, then so what.

He was greeted with the sound of coughing, and not the pitiful muffled ones from earlier but much louder, more intense ones. Arthur’s breath hitched from somewhere around the corner and he heard the sound of paper towels being crumpled up before, “hih…Hiihhh’KXCH! Ih’Hep’SHEW! Hap’Chshshfff! Ugh…” Then the sound of Arthur emptying his sinuses followed by a, “this is bloody disgusting,” and more nose blowing.

“Bless you,” America called as he turned around the corner. Arthur froze, wide eyed, caught red handed with soddened paper towels. He turned them over and pretended to wipe his hands on the cleaner side before depositing them on top of a brown mountain of material that had received just as much use. “So, whatever I heard when I was walking in here? It didn’t sound very healthy to me.”

“I’m fine. The bathrooms in here could use some inspection. Or perhaps someone more suited for the simple task of cleaning ih…it, Ih’KGSHT!” Arthur quickly raised his hand in front of his face, crushing it against his nose and mouth, “Hih…Hep’IhCHew! P’Tcshishew! Ugh…” He turned the faucet on full, suddenly completely immersed in rinsing off his hands, “Please exgcuse be,” A rosy hue began to rise in Arthur’s cheeks, one that Alfred didn’t miss. Without skipping a beat Alfred was at Arthur’s side, snaking a hand underneath his soft bangs. The warmth he felt wasn’t surprising, neither was the short, almost inaudible gasp Arthur made when their skin made contact.

“That a fever I feel?”

Arthur grimaced before swatting Alfred’s hand away.

“Or is it that unstable temperature you American’s keep your fast food restaurants at?” Arthur ended his sentence in a small fit of coughing. His argument was pitiful and he knew it. Sold out by his own body.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that. It doesn’t make sense anyway. Now, I think it’s time to go home, because you felt pretty warm.”

“As if that’s my fault.” Arthur grumbled as they exited the bathroom together.

They left the greasy atmosphere of the building hand in hand to the cashier’s mechanic ‘thank you, come again.’ Arthur couldn’t help but shiver when the cool October air hit his skin. He grasped Alfred’s hand harder, trying to steel himself, gain focus for his composure. A gust of wind blew, ruffling his hair. He lost his private battle completely when his teeth started to chatter. The Brit leaned in to Alfred, trying to mooch off of his warmth. How long had the sleeves on his uniform been so thin? He’d have to get that tailored.

“Cold, babe?” Arthur shook his head, clenching his jaw tightly.

“No, I’m quite alright. All that fast food you eat must be catching up with your brain.” He sniffed quietly. Alfred sighed, stopping midstep. “What are you doing?”

Alfred shrugged out of his bomber jacket, kissing the fleece goodbye and wrapping it around Arthur’s thin, shaking shoulders. “You’re such a liar.” He pressed a kiss to Arthur’s temple.

Arthur had it off in an instant, “I-I don’t n-need this.” Damn.

“Oh come on. Please? It looks cute on you, and you’re cold. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I’ll live, Alfred. It’s not as though it’ll kill me.”

“Well, it’s time for plan B then,”

“Wha-?” Alfred wrapped his arms around his boyfriend waist, squeezing him tightly. He rested his chin on Arthur’s shoulder, pulling him close enough so that Arthur’s hair tickled his cheek. Then he started to walk, pushing both of them forward. Arthur’s resistance was uncanny.

“What are you doing?” Hissed the Brit, as he looked around frantically, “Get off, right now.”

“Oh, what’s wrong with someone hugging the person they love?” Alfred grinned as he continued to propel them down the street. He could feel the tension from Arthur’s struggling, but the Brit was no match for his strength.

“I am not your steer, Alfred. This looks utterly ridiculous and people are staring. Get. Off.” Alfred could hear the anxious blush in Arthur’s voice.

“But you’re warm, right? I’m keeping you warm with my awesome body heat?”

“I’ll wear it, okay? I’ll wear the bloody-“Arthur broke off to cough once more, bringing both hands to his mouth. Alfred stopped, loosened his grip, but still held the Brit as he shuddered. By the time he finished he was leaning back against Alfred’s solid chest, exasperated and mumbling, “I’m putting it on, I’m putting it on.”

They didn’t resume walking until both sleeves were on securely, and the zipper was up to Arthur’s chest.

Alfred smiled to himself. His jacket was huge on Arthur’s slight frame. When he wore it, the fabric ended at his hips, but when Arthur wore it; it came to rest midway down his thighs. Arthur’s hands were barely peeking out at the ends of the sleeves. The slight look of relief as warmth returned to his body was almost comparable to the one as he silently pressed his hands to his cheeks through woolen layers. Adorable.

The walk back to Alfred’s was quiet, the kind of comfortable silence created by two people who didn’t need words to fill every moment. It was filled instead with cars rushing past, the crunch of fallen leaves and an occasional sneeze of cough. About four blocks from Alfred’s swanky estate, Alfred decided that Arthur’s unsteady steps were unnecessary and that a piggy back ride was in order, they’d get there faster that way, and Arthur would be warmer faster. Naturally, Arthur complained, claiming that piggy back rides were ‘childish’ and ‘for the weak’ and that ‘no self-respecting man would accept a piggy back ride while sober.’ In the end, Alfred’s pleading requests won out, and England wearily climbed on Alfred’s back.

“If you speak of this to anyone I swear-”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Git.” Arthur sighed, relaxing against the curve of Alfred’s neck.

Immediately, Alfred felt the warmth radiating from Arthur where the other’s forehead was pressed to a patch of skin on his neck. He felt everything, really. The slight tremors pulsing through the Brit, the warm puffs of breath, the rise and fall of his chest, the way Arthur’s muscles tensed slightly, and the abrupt hitch in his breath before –“Hhh’GKSHEW! Ih’PtCHISH’SHEW!” Followed by a fluid sniffle and, “Oh, blast, that’s so unsaditary, and that’s why you shouldn’t have forced me to get up here add..” Arthur buried his face in Alfred’s shirt; embarrassed would’ve been an understatement. “Ah.” He started rubbing at the dark wet patch he’d left on Alfred’s dress shirt, as though that would erase the outbursts.

“I think I might have to throw this shirt away.”

“And whose ruddy idea was it to put me up here adyway?” England sniffed, lightly hitting Alfred’s shoulder.

“Kidding, babe, bless by the way. Don’t get too worked up about it. What kind of hero would I be if I let that stop me from wearing something? How’s the view from up there?”

“Terrible.”

Alfred’s mansion loomed into view. Three stories, surrounded by flashy lights, recently shed foliage, and a large black gate. He punched in the passcode and the gate slowly swung open. He was happy to be home, happy to have Arthur home. The Brit cleared his throat,

“I believe I can walk on my own now.”

“Maybe I like carrying you.”

“Maybe you’re being a tad irrational. My health is stable, you know.”

Alfred reached the front door and complied, slowly lowering his boyfriend to the ground, double checking that Arthur wouldn’t collapse, before turning the knob. Arthur coughed softly behind him, and then they stepped inside.

_______________

I was actually going to post this on Fanfiction.net first but somewhere along the long road that was the two months of me trying to write this I put in too much sneezing. Ooops.

*blushes, runs hides*

[Guest _Jgirl911_]

Don't worry. It's really good. I love it and Hetalia. I can't wait for part 2 and any other fanfics you'll write.

[Dye]

Aaahh???? AAHHHH?????? USUK??

HOT USUK SICK!FIC WITH ENGLAND????

I'M

GAHHHH

YOU KILLED ME YES THIS IS GORGEOUS~~~~

[cupkake]

@_JGirl911_:Ahhhhh! Thank you so much! I'm really glad to hear you like my story and my writing Stay awesome.

@Daisoku: USUK is loveee! And thank you for the support, haha your drabbles pretty much had the same effect on me.

___

So I figured, I have the part done, I have nothing better to do, why not post it? This isn't as long as the first one (I had no idea that would be so long like I guess I could've cut it off better but I already posted it so ack?) I'm just really glad people read this and liked it and the responses made me so happy and seriously thank you again. I should probably stop using this space to ramble, but what else is it for?

Here's part 2!

___

Warm air greeted the two as the door swung open. Arthur seated himself on a couch and sniffed softly, rubbing his hands together, while Alfred wandered off to another room in the house, saying that he needed to get a few things. Arthur, despite having a raging headache, instinctively craved tea. The processed, sugar laden, culinary devils from that ruddy excuse for a restaurant could never compare to freshly brewed tea. The floor seemed to tilt a little as he rose from the couch, so he used to wall to support himself, all the way to Alfred’s kitchen, where the remnants of breakfast still resided on the table.

Arthur found a kettle, filled it with water and set the stove to a high setting, ignoring the way his arms shook, and the angry hiss of the stove as a small amount of water escaped from the kettle, because he’d be damned if at any point in his life he couldn’t even make a cup of tea. Once that was taken care of, Arthur went to the cupboard on the far left, the one where Alfred kept all the ‘British things I never touch, that are pretty much only here for when you’re over’. Arthur knew better, Arthur knew that the cakes he brought back and put in there for the sake of classification, slowly diminished without his help. He retrieved a pouch of earl gray and waited for the water to boil, preparing the tea effortlessly afterwards.

Arthur poured it into a teacup carefully, focusing on the way the brown liquid swirled slowly. His nose twinged as he went to sit down. He set his cup down and rubbed irritably at his nose, before bringing the cup up to his lips. His nose itched again. He was noticeably congested, and enough so that the tea would’ve been tasteless by the bodily connection. Grabbing a napkin, he blew his nose softly and ineffectively, not wanting Alfred to hear if he’d happened to be a few rooms over. He brought the tea back to his mouth, and damn that tickle that persisted even then. His breath caught before the first sip, but he attempted to tamp the urge down and took a quick swig. It choked him as he finally sneezed.

“Heh’Geh’Ahcchkkoo! Ah’Isht!” The first two snapped him forward, spilling some tea over the table, “Ah’hah-P’Tshcooo! Ih’GKSHEEU!” His grip on the cup loosened, as he scrambled to pinch his nose and it tipped unceremoniously, splashing hot tea all over the Arthur’s pants, and the bomber jacket he’d never taken off, cracking into small porcelain shards as it hit the wood flooring. “God, bloody dammit!” The sneezes had left him panting and sputtering. He brought a scalding hand to his mouth, cringing, feeling an excess warmth across his upper lip that had no place in being there. The sound of Alfred’s heavy footsteps thundering through the house came seconds after.

“Artie?!”

Alfred appeared in the doorframe, panting, holding a mountain of blankets, clothes, and precariously balanced medicine bottles, which he dropped as he rushed over to the Brit.

“God, you scared me. But are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And it’s really those stupid movies you watch that’s scaring you.”

“Not even close!” Alfred’s chest puffed slightly, and he looked around, taking in the scene. The broken porcelain, the kettle on the stove, the light brown stains and puddles on Arthur’s clothing and the floor and the look in Arthur’s eyes could only add up to one thing. “Is that tea? Did you seriously just make tea?”

“I made a ruddy milkshake. Yes, it’s tea!”

Alfred snorted, “Only you.” He stooped down to England’s level, kicking pieces of broken teacup to the side. “You should’ve just asked me to make it for you, you aren’t exactly at your best right now and I know that you’re Great Britain and everything, but asking for help won’t make me think any less of you. I won’t tell, I swear.”

“Excuse be? I didn’t need help. I’ll have you know that I’m-“He broke off to stifle a cough, also breaking eye contact to stare at his lap, before finishing with a quieter, “I’m very well well enough to make a cup of tea.”

Alfred shot him a skeptical raise of an eyebrow, before gesturing to the mess around them, “So what’s this then?”

“An accident. I was going to clean it up, but then you came, bursting in like the hero you are.”

Alfred looked as though he had something else to say, leave it to Arthur to get defensive at a time like this, when his gaze landed on Arthur’s hand, still raised to his mouth, just covering the underside of his pink nose. “Did you burn yourself?”

“N-no, no it wasn’t that serious.” Arthur grimaced.

“But still, your hand looks red. Here, let me see it,” Alfred grabbed Arthur’s wrist and was surprised when Arthur resisted. He felt Arthur wince, and loosened his grip, feeling slightly guilty.

“It’s fine, Alfred.” Arthur snapped.

“Baaabe,” Alfred whined, “Just let me see it,” Arthur’s arm shook with exertion as Alfred tried to pry his hand away. Once Alfred succeeded, only because Arthur had grown tired of fighting, mind you, Arthur sniffed thickly, leaned his head back in defeat, and raised his other arm to swipe at his nose, because hopefully Alfred would be too preoccupied to catch on and he’d run out of options and-

“Heh’Pt’Schhhh! Heeeehh’Ah’CHISH’SCHEW!” He lurched forward, misting the air with spray. "Ah’Issshhhh!”

“Bless you! And I guess your hand is fine.” Arthur’s eyes started to water, he groaned, without thinking he grabbed blindly for some napkins with his free hand. Why were his sneezes so wet? He hated them. Alfred started to laugh heartily. What? Shit. “Dude, is that what that was all about?” He managed between chuckles, “You just didn’t want me to see that you snotted yourself? And then you go and do it again!”

“Shut up!” Arthur seethed, turning crimson, mentally placing a thousand curses on the stupid boy in front of him. He yanked his hand free from Alfred’s grasp and held it up to his nose, using the other one to search for something to clean his face with. Leave it to Alfred to blame him for his body’s actions. Leave it to Alfred to have the napkins on the other side of the table. “I’ve seed pledty of displays frob you thad were far worse thad that!” Alfred, still fighting to contain his laughter, fished out a fresh handkerchief from his pockets and held it around his boyfriend’s streaming nose.

“ Sorry, sorry. Here you go, heehee,” Arthur placed his smaller hand over Alfred’s, still glaring.

“You know, I dod’t kndow how far you bay thigk by conditiod is deteriorated but I ab more thad capable of blowing by owd dose.”

“Yes, yes I have total faith in your capableness blah blah blah-“

“Just give be that, you arsehat!” Arthur snapped, swiping the cloth from Alfred and turning his back on Alfred so he could empty his sinuses with a gurgling, messy, blow. He cringed inwardly at the sounds he produced. Arthur balled the soggy fabric and laid his head down on the uncleared table, shoulders drooping. He sighed.

“Hey…” Alfred said gently behind him. Arthur’s shoulders started to shake and the American suddenly felt guilty for laughing, but it had been funny seeing the ‘gentleman’ brought down to the same level as a commoner. He relaxed only slightly when he realized it was just Arthur’s stifled coughs. Alfred started to rub lazy circles on Arthurs back.

“I’m disgusting, leave me alone.” The words lacked their usual bite, but they were the closest to a confession of sickness from the Brit that anyone had received in a long time.

“No can do, babe.” Alfred slipped a hand underneath Arthur’s bangs for the second time that day, unsurprised with the heat that had increased since an hour ago. He pressed a kiss to Arthur’s temple. “You’re still beautiful to me.”

“Heh’Pt’Chsshshhh!” Arthur looked up through bright, bleary eyes, handkerchief crumpled against his nose. “I’m an unsanitary mess…” He sounded tired and weary and somewhat sad.

“Bless you. And maybe so, but you’re my mess. I love you.” Alfred wrapped himself around Arthur’s shoulders, kissed his warm neck.

“Mm. I love you too.” Arthur smiled, a small one, the first one Alfred could remember seeing all day.

Alfred loved when he smiled.

Arthur broke Alfred’s embrace, earning pouty lips from the American, and walked unsteadily over to the nearby closet where Alfred kept the cleaning supplies and returned with a broom. Immediately, Alfred rushed to his side, putting a hand on the broom and nearly knocking Arthur over.

“No. Leave this to me, okay? I’ve got it, you just go upstairs and get changed.”

“I made the mess I can clean it. My shirt is already soiled anyway.” Arthur protested.

“Not today, you can’t.” Alfred led him to the discarded pile of caretaking and fished out some pajamas, stuffing them into Arthur’s arms. “I’ll make some fresh tea for you when you’re done.”

“Alfred, I’m not-“Arthur paused, exp<b></b>ression twitching, "I cahhhhan.."

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Alfred watched, amused, as Arthur’s features crumpled and he brought the handkerchief up once more.

“Dammit, Al…hiih’It’Sshew!” Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist, holding him steady, feeling Arthur’s chest expand and contract as he pitched into the handkerchief. “Hiih’GKSCHhew! Ah’tshhhih! Hih’P’tsht...ugh.” His last sneeze was so soft, so like a child’s that Alfred wanted to laugh again, but he thought better of it. Alfred nuzzled his chin against Arthur’s cheek, holding him until Arthur broke free.

“Bless you times three. If you don’t dress yourself right now, I’m doing it for you.”

“Why must you treat me like I can't take care of myself.” Arthur sniffed.

“Because I want to take care of you instead.” Alfred smiled, poking Arthur’s cheek, which was turning pink. Arthur swatted at him, shooting him a half-hearted glare and then disappeared around the corner, grumbling something Alfred couldn’t catch.

Alfred smiled to himself and started sweeping.

_______

I hope that wasn't too lengthy, there wasn't really a good place to cut that off. *sighs* I don't have much left after this, like right now its only a few paragraphs, but I'm kind debating on adding some more, only if you guys think I should though, otherwise I'll just post the ending part later. Just tell me what you think!

And thanks for reading!

Edited July 6, 2013 by cupkake

[Guest _Jgirl911_]

I still really like it. You might want to watch the random letters and symbols after your apostrophes. They make it a little harder to read. You should add a bit more. It would be cute. Maybe you included contagion with Alfred getting sick? Still you're choice and again awesome job.

[cupkake]

Oh my god I didn't even notice that. I guess something weird happened when I copied it but how do I edit that out?

[Dye]

if you're part of the 'writer's group', like me, you have an 'edit' button tacked onto all your posts. it's wonderfully handy to have. trust me, that problem has happened to the best of us. there's a stickeyed topic explaining it in detail and how to get it

(also from what i could see , it was really adorable and cute and aaahhh)

[SpookyScarySkeleton]

Its good but kinda hard too read with the symbols ;o. heh CONTINUE DOE<3

[Maus_17]

MEEEEEEP! THIS IS SO AMAZING