"Weeeeeeeest, wake up, I got something for ya. Weeeeeeeeest."

Germany groaned as he pried his eyes open, the edges of his eyelids lightly coated in crust. "Brüder, I--" Germany all but choked as his dear brother Prussia forced a spoonful of something into his mouth, utensil touching the back of his throat. As Prussia was preparing to feed him yet again, Germany shot his hand out, clamping down on Prussia's arm, causing steaming chicken soup to spill on the bedsheets. Germany's facial expression toggled between incredulous and irritated, sitting up to face Prussia. "B-Brüder, what is all this? Why are you here?!"

Prussia clicked his tongue, pushing (or trying to, anyway) Germany's head back onto the pillow. "You're sick, West, I was trying to feed you some chicken soup. They say it helps when you're sick, you know."

"I can feed myself, thank you!" Germany snatched the bowl and spoon from Prussia's hands, spilling more soup onto his bed as he began to eat without the help of his brother.

"C'mon, West, don't be like that! You let me take care of you when you were a kiiiid," Prussia persisted, despite the fact that Germany couldn't even remember his childhood.

"I-I most certainly did not! I wouldn't be alive if you'd done such a thing!" Prussia noted how red Germany's face was, embarrassed by the attention he was getting, and Prussia decided he would press just a few more of his brother's buttons.

"West, you're so CUTE~" Prussia snickered, knowing full well that Germany would kill him for such a statement, and gave him a bone-crushing hug, the soup spilling all over Germany's nightshirt from between him and Prussia.



With that, Prussia was flung out the window into the bushes below, branches jabbing at his body painfully.

"L-love you too, West..."