[Message recieved]

Antonio. I'm sick. HeeeeEEEEEeeeeeEEEEllllLLLpp p. -Gilbert Beilshmidt

[Sent at 9:15 a.m]

Antonio groaned and showed the message to Francis, who was currently in the driver's seat of the silver chevrolet. Antonio couldn't drive, so he made it a habit of carpooling with Francis, and along the way, they'd always picked up Gilbert to head to their shared University. But, due to a sudden text message, it appeared they would be doing otherwise.

"Zat idiot," Francis sighed, "We will just 'aft to leave 'im."

Antonio nodded in agreement. As much as he loved his amigo, Gilbert was a pain in ass when he was sick. The Spaniard and the Frenchmen drove on, ignoring the text.


"Fuckasses." Gilbert muttered, setting down his phone. His eyes were watering, and he nearly missed putting the cellular device on his nightstand. The albino felt hot all over, and his throat was scratchy. Add in a massive headache, and he had the perfect feeling of absolute shittiness.

"Nothing some Nyquil won't solve." grumbled the self proclaimed Prussian, who was pracyically dragging himself off the couch. He found out he was out of Nyquil after reaching the kitchen. Not awesome. Gilbert groaned, searching for some painkillers. He only found an advil, but popped it into his mouth, nonetheless.

Staggering over to his nighstand, he snatched up his phone once more. Surely Elizeverta would help him in his time of need, right? She wasn't that un-awesome!

[Message sent]

Liz, my friend. I am in need of your assistance! -Gilbert Beilshmidt

[Sent at 9:23 a.m]

Two minutes later, his phone buzzed in alert.

[Message Recieved]

What is it, Gil? I'm busy at the moment. -Liz

[Sent at 9:25 a.m]

[Message sent]

I'm sick ): -Gilbert Beilshmidt

[Sent at 9:26 a.m]

[Message recived]

I can't make it over to help, srry. I can send Roderich? -Liz

[Sent at 9:28 a.m]

Gilbert wanted to scream, but instead, he found himself typing a 'Make him bring some goddamn Nyquil' in reply. Great. He was going to be stuck with mister Stuck-Up-Austrian-Musical-Prodigy all afternoon. He needed a beer.


Why the hell am I here? Roderich hissed, internally. Was it because of Elizaverta, or do I actually want to see him? He just couldn't tell. But here, the brunette found himself standing outside Gilbert's little bungalo, a bag filled with medicine in one hand, and in the other, a spare key. He unlocked the door, kicked off his leather shoes, and stepped into the shabby living room.

"Roddy! How are ya, friend?" Gilbert greeted, cheerily, from the couch. He erupted into a coughing fit a few seconds later, and Roderich sighed. How troublesome, he might catch the germs! He stepped closer, checking to see if Gilbert was breathing between coughs.

"You're lucky I only work on weekends." he muttered, rummaging through the plastic drug store bag.

"Sure," Gilbert recovered from his coughs, though he was still clearing his throat, an smiled warmly, "I'm a lucky guy." his smiled softened, and he rested his burgandy stare on his Austrian friend.

Roderich's heart seemed to stop functioning for a few seconds, "Sarcasm is not appreciated, Belishmidt. Here, take your damn Nyquil."

Gilbert sat up, revealing he was not wearing a shirt, and reached fo the bottle. His fingertips burned Roderich's own, and he pulled away, cussing in pain.

Gilbert cackled as he unscrewed the lid, "Aw, really, Specs. I'm not that hot!"

"Yes you're actually-" Roderich began to correct his friend, then flushed deep scarlett as he realised what Gilbert's aim of the conversation was. The Prussian cackled, once again, upon seeing his friend's flustered face.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm awesome!" Gilbert laughed.

Rodereich rolled his eyes, "I told Feliks to take notes for you in class."

"Thanks man. Must be nice, not having to go to U an all." Gilbert sighed, pouring the Nyquil into the green lid and taking a sip. He gagged it down, "Beer taste way better than this syrupy stuff! Blech!"

"I bet to differ," Roderich smiled. He hated beer, with his mind, body and soul.

Gilbert only scoffed in reply, lying his head back down on the arm of the couch. He was shivering, and clinging to his thin blanket with much strength. Roderich stood, walked down the hall, and grabbed a comforter to bring back to the sick Prussian.

"Thanks, Specs." Gilbert moaned, happily, as the comforter covered his chest.

"Whatever." Roderich mumbled, going slightly pink. Gilbert didn't often thank people, and to be honored with one of his rare shows of gratitude- Shit, Rodereich was talking like him, now.

"Let's watch a movie~!" Gilbert sang from the couch, "You can pick."

And somehow, after a rather horrific romantic comedy, Gilbert was sound asleep. The Austrian sitting in his armchair stood, sighing. The movie had been disappointing, but at least Gilbert was on the road to recovery.

Roderich was tempted to leave, but he had no where elsse he needed to be, so he went for Gilbert's kitchen. Big mistake.

It was clean after thirty minutes of furious scrubbing, angry dishwashing, and annoyed swifer-wet-jetting. Roderich heard Gilbert breathe heavily in his sleep, and made a milkshake. Waking up to that, Gilbert looked simply too happy for words.

"Roddy, you're, like, the best nurse EVER!" Gilbert cried, taking a huge slurp of his milkshake. It was chocolate. His favorite! Gilbert stated to drift off into fantasy land. The Nyquil had obviously done it's job.

Roderich glared at the Prusian's perverted grin, "No, I will not wear a ridiculous nurse-outfit! Don't even consider it!"

"Too late." Gilbert's grinned grew wider.

"Disgusting." Roderich sniffed, "I would never wear a skirt!"

"Feliks wears a skirt," Gilbert offered, "He's still cool."

"Yes, but..." Roderich searched for a defense, "He's got the legs for it."

Gilbert arched a brow, "You have nice legs."

They fell into silence, and Gilbert began to metally start beating himself. Oh, god. Nice legs? Really, Gil? Not awesome. Roddy probably thinks your an idiot! What do I do? He's blushing. That's cute. Heh. WAIT, NO! Jesus, say something cool. COOL, I SAY. "So, uh, are my legs nice?" Gilbert lifted his pajama covered limb. Smooth.

"They're not as good as Feliks'." Roderich chuckled.

Gilbert frowned, "Damn, I was so sure they were awesome-er."

They laughed again, Gilbert coughed a little bit. Then he remembered the milkshake, "Why so nice to me, today, huh? I mean... We supposedly are frienemies."

"What the fuck is a frienemie?" Roderich furrowed his brows.

"An enemy slash a friend." Gilbert shrugged, "That's what I thought we were."

"I do indeed dislike your sloppy behaviour, but I never once considered you an enemy." Roderich admitted, slowly, "I've always just thought you were my loud and annoying friend."

"Oh." Gilbert wiped away a fake tear, "I'm touched, Specs. Really."

Roderich smiled, crookedly. Gilbert forgot to breathe, and his coughs began to start up as a reminder. Tch, ruin the moment, much? Thanks, germs.

"Mien gott, I'm cold." hissed Gilbert, shivering into his blankets. His brunette friend sat next to him, concern filling his violet eyes. Gilbert met his stare, and they looked blankly at eachother for a really long time. Gilbert finally got embarrassed and looked away, as Roderich smiled, crookedly.

"Well, here, then." he snaked his arm around the Prussian's shoulders. Gilbert squeaked, but it came out as a cough. We're practically cuddling, for God's sake, a little squeak was nothing. I am a man! Gilbert kept encouraging himself.

"You'll catch my fever." Gilbert grumbled, blushing.

As Roderich shrugged, Gilbert could feel his arms relax, "I'll be fine."

"What if you're not? Then I could say I told you so! Haha!"

"And I could say you're not awesome. How's that?"

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

How long they stayed like that, bickering aimlessly, no one knows. But, later that afternoon, when Antonio showed up to check on his friend and found Gilbert asleep on Roderich's lap, he was certain that good things could come from illness.

(Even if, in the end, Roderich wound up sick.)