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Francis suddenly woke up to the feeling of his head throbbing and his throat all scratchy. Francis was already known to be unpleasant to be around if he was suddenly awoken, but the fact that he was showing signs of illness made it even worse. He wasn’t just annoyed, he was incredibly upset.
He opened his eyes a bit, the sun blaring through his window right onto his face, causing them to shut almost immediately. He felt sweaty, and his hair was an absolute pigsty. Why would he go to a world meeting when he looked and felt like this? As he further realized the predicament that he was in, he decided to check the time.
Francis practically fought to check the time, reaching out his arm like he was crawling out of a hole that he couldn’t quite escape. His alarm clock read 9:30. Shit. He was already late to the meeting.
With no hope in sight, he contemplated calling in sick to Ludwig (key word: contemplated). He was reluctant, however… After all, he felt like total shit and his usual confident demeanor was flayed. To call in sick would be a humiliation ritual!
And so he decided to just lie in bed, gripping his blanket in hopes of falling back asleep
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Francis awoke once again to the sound of three loud knocks on his front door. He doesn’t know how many hours it has been since he went back to sleep, but for how long it has been, he doesn’t feel better in the slightest. Enough time has probably passed already for someone to notice his absence from the world meeting.
Another three knocks came from the door, but this time the person at the door spoke. “Hey, frog, let me in!”. Oh god, it was Arthur.
“I have been sent by Ludwig to check up on you since you haven’t attended today’s meeting.” Arthur exclaimed. Francis groaned and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to see better. He let out a breathy cough and sniffled, unintentionally making him aware of his sickness once again. Arthur was getting impatient. “Come on, frog, I don’t have all day. I need to get back there.”. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Francis declared, slowly and groggily lifting himself off of his covers.
Geez, he knew he was sick, but he didn’t know it was this bad. Now that he was up on his feet, his legs and back ached. His bed beckoned him to lay back down, but he didn’t want Arthur to continue bugging him. He slowly opened the door, his droopy blue eyes meeting with Arthur’s wide emerald-esque eyes.
Arthur gasped and let out a low chuckle. “My my, you look… disheveled. Who’s the black sheep of Europe now?”. There were a couple seconds of awkward silence. Francis let out a low and displeased groan. “I’m sick with something, mon cher. I really don’t want to see your face right now.”. Arthur’s bushy brows furrowed. “Hmmm… does that imply that you ever want to see me?” He said, followed by a couple seconds of laughter. Francis was flustered yet angered by Arthur. “You know, you can go back to your meeting now. I bet everyone is waiting for you.”
“Oh cut it, I know that you’re just going to be angrier later on with a lack of company. If anything, you should be appreciating the fact that I’m still here talking to you. Now if you don’t mind, it’s getting chillier out here. May I come in?” Francis sniffled. “Fine. Just don’t be annoying about it.” Arthur gave a little nod and a slight grin and stepped inside.
Francis’ house was warm and welcoming. It was decorated with beautiful flowers and there was something so comforting about its atmosphere (yet Arthur would never dare to admit it). Francis sluggishly walked over and plopped himself onto his soft couch, his head resting on the armrest. All he could think about was how embarrassing this whole situation was. His hair was a mess, he was dripping with sweat, his body ached, and here Arthur was just watching him get humbled by his illness.
“So,” Arthur said, breaking the silence. “Have you had anything to drink today? Anything to eat?”. Francis didn’t dare to get up from the spot on the couch. “Non. I have no desire to eat, nothing sounds appetizing.” Arthur glanced back at Francis as he slowly took off his heavy coat and hung it on the coat rack. “I will make us some tea.” He made his way to the kitchen. This just made Francis scared more than anything. Arthur? In HIS lovely and well-kempt kitchen? Absolutely not!
“Non! Do you seriously think that I would allow you, the one who’s practically KNOWN for his bad cooking, in MY kitchen? Who do you take me for?!” Francis exclaimed, his throat growing scratchier the more he complained. “Quiet down, wanker, or you’re going to lose your voice.” Arthur giggled a bit and muttered to himself: “That would be quite nice after all…”
Arthur shifted around, looking to see what kind of tea Francis would have hanging around. He opened a drawer and came across some boxes of tea. It definitely wasn’t as much as the Englishman drank, but there was a box of peppermint tea and some black tea. “You should expand your horizons a bit more. You can never have too much tea.” Arthur exclaimed, loudly enough so that Francis could hear him from the kitchen. Francis didn’t respond; as much as he wanted to make a statement insulting British culture, his throat hurt far too much to yell at him from far away.
Arthur brought out a teabag of each flavor and filled a kettle with water. Once the kettle started whistling, he brought out two china cups and fixed the cups of tea. Francis sat up and diligently watched Arthur as he prepared the drinks, grateful that he didn’t burn down his kitchen. He was aware of the fact that Arthur could definitely make a good cup of tea, but if he were to make a mistake, he didn’t want to be sick when it happened.
Arthur walked over to the couch with the teacups in his hands and placed them both on the coffee table in front of them. “When will you leave? I want to go back to sleep already.” Francis groaned, followed by some breathy coughs, tipping his head back against the couch armrest. Arthur’s eyes widened and his bushy brows furrowed a bit. “How ungrateful of you! I make you tea and give you company and you just sit and complain. You never change, don’t you, you bugger?” Francis lifted his head back up. “It’s not like I invited you here, Angleterre!” Despite how pissy he was being to Arthur, he still decided to take a sip of his peppermint tea, the healing warmth of the tea slowly repairing his sore throat. Arthur proceeded to sit next to him (but not too close, he doesn’t like being around sick people).
The sight of Francis sitting back and drinking the tea made Arthur smirk, reminding him to take a sip of his own. “You know, for how much you complain about me being here, you still seem to enjoy the tea.” Francis followed up by just telling him to shut up, but he secretly was happy to have Arthur in his company right now. He is an extroverted fellow, and when he doesn’t interact with others for a while, his mood drops.
“Well you seem to enjoy being near me too, don’t you, Angleterre? You came to see me, after all.” Francis said after taking another sip of his tea. He glanced at Arthur and saw that his face was flushed. “I-I didn’t WANT to see you! I was just… sent here by Ludwig…” He turned his head downward. The Englishman always tried to put on a gentlemanly persona, but once he was put in his place, he turned into a huge tsundere. He suddenly turned his body to face Francis, his face inches away from Francis’ face. “B-Bug off, frog…” Francis was caught off guard, but he was caught even more off guard when Arthur planted a small kiss on his forehead. He tried to return the favor by kissing Arthur on the cheek, but the Englishman retaliated: “Don’t kiss me with your sick mouth, you bugger!”.
Francis giggled. “I love you too, Angleterre~”.
The end ^_^