Sick Little Brit

Francis hummed quietly as he carried Arthur into the nurse's office.It was about lunchtime,so,thankfully,everyone was pretty much out of the way,and no one caught him holding the lump in his arms.He carefully rested the Briton on one of the hospital beds,tucking the blankets around him.He then pressed his lips to his forehead.When he pulled back,he frowned.

"You seem really sick,"he commented."Feels like you're burning up.Poor dear."He tsked slightly.

Finding no words to express how he felt about the diagnosis-kiss to the forehead, Arthur simply glared at him as murderously as he could muster behind the haze in his eyes.

"It's just a fever, I'm not gonna die." he whined. "I've had worse."

Francis gasped,eyes wide."A fever!Mon dieu,that's not good."He smiled a bit and gently ruffled the Brit's blonde hair gently.He sat on the edge of his bed,keeping a safe distance so he wouldn't upset Arthur.

"You'll be okay.But not this second.So I'll watch over you and worry and try to make sure you feel better."He nodded,placing a calming hand on Arthur's chest.

"I'm perfectly fine, fevers are common for someone with a pitiful immune system like mine. I'm working on it. You act as if I'm made of porcelain, and that I can easily break with every gust of wind that blows against me." Arthur looked entirely displeased before his glare softened, turning a bit sad. "Do you really think of me like that?"

Francis blinked and slowly looked away.He shrugged a little bit."Well..Yes and no.I think of you as strong and proud,but also a bit weak on the inside..Like you're covering the real you.."He turned to look back at Arthur and then down at the hand he had placed on the Brit's chest.

"I've known you for so long,so I know you're not easily breakable..I just don't want you hurt.Or upset."He didn't make eye contact,instead choosing to study his fingernails.

"'M not weak." Arthur growled lowly, moving Francis' hand off his heart. "Hurting and breaking is inevitable. True strength is the ability to get back up, patch yourself up, and move on. The more we are hurt, the stronger we get." he let his eyelids drop, moving a bit to make himself comfortable. "So...Don't you dare insinuate I'm weak, because I'm strong. Very, very strong." he breathed almost inaudibly, letting the mind-numbing dizziness take over for a moment.

Francis blinked and sighed a bit."I don't think you're really weak.But everyone can be hurt.That's what sort of weak I mean.I am that also.."He looked at the window."I know you're strong.You really are.But,because of my own feelings,I want to take care of you."He nodded,gently tapping Arthur's chest before bringing his hands to his lap.He closed his eyes.

"I do not think you're weak.I would never think that.It's so not you."

"You better not. I'll beat you up, show you I'm not weak, if that's what it takes." Arthur huffed indignantly, albeit a bit weakly, then pointed at the nurse's desk. "Now I'm not waiting for the nurse to come back from lunch break or wherever she is, so be a dear and find me a thermometer somewhere over there."

Francis gently hit the side of Arthur's head and stood,going to the desk."I know you're not weak.When we were kids,and you found out I was a boy,I'm pretty sure you beat me up really well.."He searched around and smirked a little.He held up a thermometer and showed it to Arthur.

"Now,lie on your stomach.."he jokingly said before walking over and popping the thermometer into the Brit's mouth,mainly to keep him quiet.

Arthur still managed to mutter a vicious "Fuck you" from around the thermometer stuck in his mouth, but shut up so it could get a good reading. All too quickly, the thermometer beeped, shattering the comfortable silence that had just fallen over them.

Francis pulled the thermometer out of Arthur's mouth and gently shook it.He check the reading and sighed."Oui.A fever.You're pretty sick,mon ami."He cleaned off the object before returning it to where he found it.He looked around and then back at Arthur.

"So..What do you suggest for a fever?"the Frenchman asked."Soup?I think that's what you give to some people..I can make yummy soup."

Arthur groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Here we go again." he sighed more to himself than anyone else. "I'm gonna need a wet towel, a cup of water, a couple of pills if the headache becomes too intense, and sleep." he then looked up at Francis, who was just standing there, waiting for anything else he might need to say. "And if it's not too much trouble... Yes, I would like soup. Not too much, though. I don't feel like stomaching much."

"You sit,and decide on what type of soup you want.I'll be right back."Francis smiled kindly and left the room to go look for the objects Arthur requested.After some time,he returned,towel hanging on one arm as he held a bottle of water and pills in his hands.He placed the bottles beside Arthur and went to go soak the towel in the nurse's office sink.

"Decide yet?"he called over the sound of the running water in the sink.

"Whatever's light. I don't want to throw up. Make sure you don't put any frog germs in it, last thing I need is to catch your frogginess." he huffed and with some effort, turned around into a more comfortable sleeping position, his back turned to Francis.

Francis wrung out the towel and folded it a bit before bringing it over to Arthur.He placed it on the bedside table with the bottle of water and the pills.He gently patted the Brit's side before walking to the door."I'll be right back,"he assured him before walking out of the nurse's office.He went to his room to prepare the soup.

He returned with French onion soup,not sure if it was,in fact,"light," but was positive about it's deliciousness.He placed the bowl beside Arthur."You awake?"the Frenchman asked softly.

"I'm asleep." Arthur grumpily replied, turning over. He'd placed the towel on his forehead and took the movement as an occasion to wet it again and throw it back on his face with a contended sigh. After a bit, he shakily pushed himself into a sitting position and accepted the soup, nodding at Francis. God, he felt so tired. He just needed sleep now and he'd get better in no time.

Francis took the towel and went to go soak it again."Mon dieu,you look so sick,"he commented,watching Arthur.He frowned a little."I'll have Gilbert's head on a stick for getting you sick,mon ami."He walked back over and placed the towel on Arthur's forehead,holding it there since the Brit was sitting up.He smiled a little bit.

"It's alright, it's not entirely his fault. I found it amusing to sink Napoleons in the bath as well, so I should have at least dried off before dragging him to bed." he winced as the heat hit his tongue, but gulped a bit of soup anyway.

Francis rolled his eyes a bit."You would like defeating leaders of France,"he teased."Was it to spite moi?That's not nice at all."He leaned down and gently blew on the soup to cool it down.

"Be careful.It is very hot,I'd hate you to hurt yourself,"he said.

"I can take care of myself. I'm not a baby." Arthur muttered, sipping a bit more before setting the bowl down and flopping back down. "I'm going to try and get some rest. Can you give me the towel?"

Francis gently rested the wet towel on Arthur's forehead.He smiled a little,standing beside the bed."So,mon ami..Need anything else?I can leave if you'd like.I'm just a phone call away,you know."He gently patted Arthur's shoulder,watching the sick Brit.

"I want silence." Arthur groaned, closing his eyes. "Leave, or don't, I'm not going to decide for you. And put the pills and water on the bedside table."

"They're still there,don't worry,"Francis said."I'll let you rest.Call if you need anything more."He fixed the blankets around Arthur to help him.He smiled a little.

"Feel better,Arthur,"he cooed before going to the door.He turned off the light and took one last look at the Briton.He smiled kindly and slowly walked out.

"Bloody idiot..." Arthur huffed once Francis was gone, and the door, closed. "You could have stayed..."

But he figured he didn't want to look any weaker to anyone and just closed his eyes to get some rest. The sooner he felt better, the sooner he could yell at the frog again. His motivation set straight, he willed himself into a deep, restful sleep.