Chapter Text
It was almost a normal meeting. Feliciano was blabbering on about pasta. Francis and Arthur were at each other’s throats about who even knows what. Ludwig was desperately trying to keep order… with little success. Matthew was silently observing the chaos, being ignored as usual.
It was almost a normal meeting. If there wasn’t a certain loud, certain American voice missing.
Matthew glanced across the table, where his twin brother sat still and quiet. Alfred. Still and quiet. He thought he’d sooner see pigs fly and Arthur cook an edible dish.
Alfred’s arms were crossed over his chest, and his head was tipped down ever so slightly. Beneath the blond bangs covering his face, Matthew could just make out deep bags under his eyes.
Something was definitely wrong.
And obviously he wasn’t the only one thinking that. The other nations took turns subtly peering over at Alfred. The absence of his obnoxious laughter echoing throughout the room was jarring. Even the polar bear in Matthew’s arms was tilting his head at the American’s behavior.
Arthur—after he was supposedly done choking Francis and calling him a frog—approached Alfred.
“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”
Alfred flinched, even though Arthur hadn’t spoken that loudly. He slowly looked up, allowing Matthew a clearer view of his face. His skin was sickly pale, and his eyes were lacking their usual spark.
“Hm? What?” he mumbled.
Arthur clearly noticed the poor state the younger man was in. His expression melted into one of concern.
“Lad, are you feeling alright?” His voice softened. Matthew didn’t miss the way his hand twitched ever so slightly, as if he was about to reach forward and touch Alfred’s forehead.
Alfred blinked listlessly. His focus went from Arthur to everyone else who now stared at him curiously. An awkward silence filled the room.
Then, Alfred suddenly stood up—so quickly that his chair clattered to the ground.
“Of course I’m okay, Artie!” He smiled brightly while dismissively waving a hand. If it hadn’t been for his pale face or uncharacteristic quietness just a second ago, the act would’ve almost been believable.
Arthur was momentarily caught off guard by the sudden switch before speaking up again.
“No, you’re not. You’re clearly ill. Is there anything happening in your country? I haven’t seen anything in the news. How is the economy? Any natural disasters?”
“Dude. What part of ‘I’m okay' don’t you understand?” Alfred’s expression grew serious. “Just lay off; I’m not your colony anymore.” After that was said, his face broke back into a dopey grin.
Arthur opened his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but Alfred decided he wasn’t done talking.
“C’mon, everyone! This is a meeting! Why’s everyone so quiet? We’re supposed to be discussing the world’s issues!” He glided over towards the front of the room, standing beside Ludwig. “Now, what are we talking about here?”
Ludwig gave him a look. “Climate change.”
“Oh yeah! That… I knew that! Because I was paying attention the whole time, obviously!”
“Bollocks," Arthur muttered under his breath.
“I’ve actually been coming up with a plan to solve climate change entirely! There’s this movie from Japan's place that I watched a few days ago and—”
Matthew zoned him out. It’s a skill one must learn when being related to Alfred. He had no idea where his brother had gotten all this sudden energy. Alfred seemed on the verge of passing out just a minute ago. Now he was animatedly walking around, waving his hands around, and yammering on about some half-baked idea that involved building a cyborg that sucked all the greenhouse gases from the atmosphere, thus stopping global warming. Because of course he was.
Alfred’s eyes would flicker over to different people’s eyes throughout his speech. Eventually, they landed on Matthew, and he paused. His perpetual smile waned.
Maybe it was a twin thing, but Alfred and Matthew were always able to communicate with facial expressions alone. And it was clear what Matthew’s facial expression was saying at that moment.
“You’re sick and not fooling anyone. You shouldn’t be up there.”
Alfred’s grin returned, though it was significantly more shaky and less confident than before. “I know, but don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”
Matthew couldn’t help but huff out loud at that. Of course he was going to worry. Alfred was loud and dense and annoying and obnoxious, and every day he had to resist the overwhelming urge to throttle him to death.
But Alfred was also his little brother. He would quite literally go to hell and back for him, and for some reason Alfred never seemed to realize that.
Matthew was about to give him a look telling him something along those lines, but Alfred peered away. His smile became artificially confident once again.
“And so the megacarbon-tron 5000 can—” and Matthew tuned him out again.
Alfred managed to keep up appearances for the rest of the meeting, acting like the good ol’ lively, energetic United States. Ludwig announced the end of the meeting, and Matthew noticed how relieved his brother seemed at hearing that.
Everyone else began filing out of the room. Arthur took a few steps over towards Alfred, opening his mouth as if he was going to speak to him again. He must’ve changed his mind, though, because he brought his lips back together in a thin frown, shook his head, and walked out the door.
Matthew watched the Englishman’s form vanish as he turned into the hall. Alfred’s earlier words probably affected him more than he cared to let on.
“Just lay off; I’m not your colony anymore.”
How many times has Alfred said that in the past 200 or so years? More than Matthew could count, that’s for sure.
Matthew loved Arthur; he really did. But how, even after all this time, has he never realized how empty those words were? Did he seriously never notice the way Alfred constantly looked towards him for approval? Or that one time Alfred thought he saw a ghost and his first instinct was to hide behind him.
Arthur knew Alfred better than most, and he knew that downplaying was practically the American’s second language. It wasn’t like Alfred was a small, helpless colony anymore… but he still so obviously saw Arthur like a father.
So Matthew didn’t know why…
He sighed. It didn’t matter, not now at least. They’d work it out… eventually. Thankfully, Alfred was a little bit less stubborn when it came to receiving help from his twin. A little bit. And the meeting today was in Toronto, not too far from one of Matthew’s houses.
He knew what would happen once Alfred went back to his hotel room. And it would involve a lot less resting and a lot more staring at work documents on his laptop till 5 am. Matthew couldn’t let that happen.
Alfred started making his way towards the door. Before he could walk out, Matthew grabbed his shoulder. “Alfred.”
The other man froze before slowly turning around. Sporting that familiar look of feigned ignorance.
“What is it, bro?”
“Don’t 'what is it' me. You’re sick.”
“Nah, it’s just a little cold.”
Matthew stared at his face. He had dark purple bags under his eyes and his nose and cheeks were rosy red. Both a harsh contrast to his pale white sheet skin. And he was practically sweating bullets.
“You look like you’re about to pass out right now.”
“You’re so sweaty, eh,” Kumamiro added.
“Look… Mattie… I don’t need you to be on my case as well. I swear you’re just like Arthur. I’m going back to my hotel now, okay? I’ll get a good night's rest and drive home tomorrow.”
Matthew quirked an eyebrow, letting Alfred know he didn’t believe that one bit.
Alfred frowned. “What?”
He kept staring.
“Stop looking at me like that!”
And staring.
“Mattie!”
Kumaijo also started.
“Both of you!”
“When was the last time you slept?” Matthew asked.
“Last night,” he automatically replied.
“Slept more than 4 hours.”
“I—” Alfred hesitated and then awkwardly scratched his cheek. “L-last night…”
“Liar.”
“Me? Never…”
“Do you want to come to my house?”
“I can—”
“Yes, you can look after yourself. I’ve heard it a million times before. Even if your cold isn’t that bad… well, it’s just been a while since you’ve been over at my place. Can’t we just hang out?”
Alfred blinked, then looked down at the ground. He rubbed a bleary eye. “Well… I-I mean, I guess.”
“Good, let’s go then. I’ll drive.”
“Wait—no! I’m good enough to drive! We can’t just leave my car here!”
“I’ll drive you back here to pick it up later. You’re America. I don’t think they’ll mind if you leave your car here for a bit.”
“But—” Before Alfred could be any more defiant, he broke into a coughing fit. He doubled over and started coughing harshly into his elbow.
Matthew was immediately by his side. Just by getting closer, he could feel the unnaturally warm body heat coming off of him. That wasn’t a good sign.
“C’mon.” Matthew shifted Kumahiro so he was holding him with one arm. He used his now free hand to guide Alfred into the hallway and towards a water fountain. He pressed the button, and a stream of water began pouring out. “Drink.”
Alfred leaned forward and started sipping. He took a few big gulps and sighed once he was done.
“Sorry…”
“No, don’t apologize.”
“Whoops, my bad. I forgot that was your thing.”
“You’re so funny,” Matthew responded flatly. Even though he was done drinking, Alfred’s face was still up close to the nozzle where the water came out. So Matthew hit the button again. Water shot out and splashed him.
“Ah! Hey!” Alfred flinched and scrambled back.
Matthew chuckled, earning himself a nice glare. Then he brushed away Alfred’s bangs so he could feel his forehead.
“Bro—”
Matthew shushed him. Alfred’s own Arizonan summers would be jealous of how hot his forehead felt.
“A little cold?”
“Can we go now? You can drive me or whatever. But I’m going home tomorrow.”
There was absolutely no way Matthew was letting him drive home tomorrow, but he kept that to himself. He was lucky he even got the stubborn American to agree to come to his house.
“Yes, we can. Let’s go.”
Matthew made a beckoning motion, and Alfred followed him out of the building.
When they got to the car, he opened the back door and let Kumaijo climb inside. As soon as the two men were in, Alfred’s head fell on the window with a soft thump.
The act appeared to be over. Alfred’s shoulders were slumped and he was closing his eyes. Suddenly, he tensed up again and was right back into another coughing fit. This one even worse than the last.
Matthew bit his lip. “I-I think I have cough syrup at my house.”
Alfred—unable to give a verbal response between his coughs—simply nodded.
“Are you okay, eh?” Kumaijo peeked his head out from the back and tapped his wet nose on Alfred’s cheek.
“Kuma—” Matthew began.
“I’m okay, dude,” Alfred croaked out. It seemed like he was done hacking his lungs out… for now. He brought a hand up and scratched Kumaijo behind the ears. “Your owner is gonna take good care of me.”
“Who?”
Matthew rolled his eyes and put the key in the ignition. The vehicle rumbled to life.
A silence fell in the car as he drove through the busy Toronto streets. His house wasn’t too far away, so Alfred would be resting under some nice comfy blankets in no time.
His focus mostly remained forward, but part of it couldn’t help but be taken by the form in his peripheral vision. Alfred’s eyes were closed, but his breathing was a bit too fast for him to be fully asleep. Still, he appeared to be way more relaxed than he did earlier.
Matthew made sure to avoid any cracks or potholes on the road so Alfred wouldn’t be bothered. His brother didn’t need to know that, though.
—
Matthew handed him the thermometer. “Here, take your temperature.”
“You already felt my head or whatever earlier. We know I have a fever,” Alfred—wrapped up in a blanket cocoon on Matthew’s couch—huffed. His voice was a lot more quiet and raspy than it was earlier, so much so that Matthew had to try not to cringe. It sounded like it had to be painful to talk.
Unfortunately, no matter how painful it was for him, Alfred would never not talk.
“We just want to make sure it’s not so bad you need to go to the hospital.” Alfred’s eyes widened. “Don’t worry about that; we have free healthcare, remember?”
Alfred snatched the thermometer from him. “I wasn’t worrying about the price. Nor was I worrying about needing to go to the hospital in the first place. If my temperature was really that bad, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”
“If only…”
Alfred pouted and placed the thermometer into his mouth. He mumbled something that sounded like, “Shut up.”
They waited about 30 seconds for the beep beep beep of the thermometer. Alfred took it out of his mouth and glanced down. His eyes widened.
Matthew tilted his head. Was it actually that bad? Of course Alfred looked like shit and was the king of acting better than he felt. But if his temperature was that high, Matthew couldn’t imagine him sitting up and talking to him like he was.
“What’s—”
“Why is my temperature so low?!”
“Low…?”
“It’s 37.8!” Alfred glanced up at him, panic evident in his eyes.
“37.8? Alfred, it’s in Celsius. That’s about 100 degrees Fahrenheit—a fever.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“I knew that.” Alfred tossed the thermometer back towards Matthew. He barely had time to react before catching it in his hands. “Was just testing you, bro.”
“Right.” Alfred coughed again and Matthew stood up. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get you some cough syrup.”
Alfred responded with a sneeze. Snot shot out from his nose, and he brought his arm up, like he was about to wipe it on his sleeve.
“And,” Matthew said just sharp enough to make Alfred pause, “a box of tissues.”
Alfred snorted all the escaped snot back up into his nose. Matthew cringed at the sight and was all too willing to turn around and walk out of the living room. He heard the clacking of Kumaoro’s claws on the floor as the bear followed behind him.
Once he entered the kitchen, he began shuffling through his medicine cabinet. He wasn’t the type who got sick often. At least compared to Alfred, it seemed.
Nations were well… nations. And a lot of times when they got sick, it was related to events going on in their country. Natural disasters, wars, the stock market, etc.
But nations were also humans. In a way, at least. Sometimes their sickness was tied to the country they personified. And sometimes they just got sick, like how any mortal human would get sick. From infectious airborne diseases…
or working themselves to exhaustion and refusing to get a full night’s sleep in who knows how long.
Matthew found the bottle of medicine he was searching for. It was grape-flavored, meaning it probably tasted like overly sweet candy. Perfect for Alfred.
Matthew poured an appropriate amount of syrup into the tiny medicine cup. Kumaoro brought his front paws up on the counter and sniffed the cup curiously.
Matthew picked it up and grabbed a new box of tissues from his pantry. Then he made his way back towards his dumb sick brother.
He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight. Alfred’s eyes were closed. Not fully asleep but seeming close to it.
He sighed. Alfred could sleep as much as he wanted once he’d gotten some cough medicine and food in him.
He put the box of tissues on the coffee table and tapped Alfred’s shoulder. His brother’s eyes fluttered open—blue meeting purple.
“Hm?”
Matthew handed him the medicine cup. “Here. This should help your throat.”
“Thanks, bro. Cheers!” he tried to exclaim, but it came out as nothing more than a pitiful croak. He chugged it all and then slammed the empty cup on the table. “Mmm, this tastes like a liquid Jolly Rancher. Yummy.”
Perfect for Alfred.
“I’m going to make some soup, and then you should get some sleep.” At that, Alfred frowned. “What?”
“It’s like you said… It’s been a while since I’ve been to Canada, and we got to actually hang out. I don’t wanna just eat soup and sleep.”
“But you should.”
“But I don’t wanna.”
Matthew opened his mouth, but Alfred continued talking. “We can just chill on the couch and watch a movie together. It’s not like I’m asking to run a marathon. I’ll eat soup, we’ll watch the movie, and then I’ll get some sleep.”
“Not some sleep. Lots of sleep.”
“Sure, yeah. Lots of sleep. Deal?”
“Deal implies I’m getting something in return.”
“You are. Quality time with your dear little brother.” Alfred smiled and batted his eyes.
“Yeah. Good for me,” Matthew muttered sarcastically. “I’m going to go make the soup. You pick out a movie in the meantime.”
Alfred nodded. Matthew bent over to grab the empty medicine cup, but as soon as he did, Alfred sneezed. Right on him.
“Ew! Alfred!”
Alfred’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry! I sneezed so fast I didn’t have time to cover my mouth!”
Matthew grumbled, ready to make another sarcastic comment. But meeting Alfred’s eyes… His brother seemed genuinely upset and apologetic.
“It’s fine. I don’t get sick that often, so I’ll be fine. And wipe your nose. You have snot that’s about to drip into your mouth.”
Alfred stared up at him blankly—as if it was taking a moment for his brain to register the words—while the snot dripped down onto his lips. Gross. He grabbed a tissue and blew into it.
Matthew looked at his now snot-covered arm. It was his favorite red hoodie… He’d have to take it off and wash it later.
“Kuma… no… I’m hot…” Alfred whined. Kumayero had hopped on the couch and was curled up against Alfred’s side.
“It’s not hot, eh?”
“No, I’m hot.” Alfred tried to push the polar bear away. “I have a fever, and you’re pressing all your fur and body heat on me.”
“Oh.”
“Kumayero,” Matthew spoke up. “Let’s leave Alfred alone for now. Can you come help me make soup in the kitchen, please?”
“Hm?” Kumakiro tilted his head. “Who are you?”
“Just follow me…”
—
Matthew didn’t really know what they were watching, some sort of generic Hollywood action movie. It lost his attention within the first few minutes.
He ended up making enough soup for the both of them. So they both sat on the couch, eating soup and watching the movie.
“Watching” maybe wasn’t the right word. Alfred seemed to be paying even less attention than he was. The American was usually very invested in movies. As soon as he was in front of some crappy superhero film, the outside world might as well not exist.
But at that moment, Alfred looked like he would slump over and fall asleep at any second.
“If you’re done with your soup, just leave the bowl on the table. I’ll put it in the sink later.”
Alfred managed to eat all his soup. Matthew was a little worried earlier that his illness might’ve affected his appetite. Maybe he should’ve known that Alfred’s appetite would not be so easily affected.
“Hm?” Alfred hummed. “Oh… okay.” He placed the bowl on the coffee table.
“You can go to sleep if you want to.”
Alfred shook his head. “Nah, I’m okay right now. This movie is very interesting.”
“Is it now? What’s the main character’s name?”
“The main character’s name? T-that’s a good question. And a question that I totally know the answer to…”
Matthew wanted to keep pushing. After all, it was very entertaining when Alfred got called out on bullshit and got all flustered. But seeing how absolutely exhausted he looked—imagining him stressed over a laptop all night and not getting a wink of sleep—Matthew let him be.
“It’s okay. Let’s continue watching the movie.” Alfred would probably be asleep soon anyway.
And he was. Within maybe 10 minutes, Matthew had a sleeping bear in his lap and a sleeping American’s head on his shoulder.
A sleeping, drooling American’s head.
“No, Alfred! I just took my hoodie off because you sneezed on it! Now I’m going to have to clean this shir…” Matthew’s voice trailed off as both Kumataro and Alfred started to stir. “S-sorry,” he whispered, even though no one would hear him.
The two quickly settled down again, and he awkwardly reached for the tissue box, trying to move so in a way that wouldn’t wake anyone up. He grabbed a tissue and wiped the saliva off his shoulder.
Matthew yawned. He felt his own eyelids grow heavy and was pretty sure he was going to end up like Alfred and Kumataro shortly here.
He turned off the television. Not like anyone was watching it. He gently nudged Kumataro off his lap and then grabbed Alfred by the shoulder and laid him down across the couch.
“I’ll get it done soon… promise…” Alfred mumbled as his eyebrows furrowed.
“Shh… You’re alright. Just sleep.” Alfred relaxed again. “Night, Al.”
He stared at Alfred for a few more seconds before bringing his attention to Kumataro. He picked up the slumbering cub and then the two empty bowls on the table. He went to the kitchen and threw the dishes in the sink, making a note in his head to wash them tomorrow. (As well as his saliva- and snot-covered clothes.)
Then he went to his bedroom. Just as he was about to open the door, he let out a small sneeze. The noise woke Kumataro up.
“Who?” he murmured softly.
“I’m sorry, eh. I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep.”
“It’s okay, eh…” Kumataro’s eyes fluttered closed again.
Matthew sniffed—his nose still feeling a bit tingly—and entered his bedroom. He placed Kumataro down and climbed into bed.
As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.