Phantom Influenza

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The next morning, Prussia woke to a fit of coughing. He looked up to see America coughing into his blanket. Prussia was about to wish him health when he noticed a heavy sweat on his forehead. Prussia leaned forward on his seat. "Do you feel okay, America?"

"My head hurts," he said, his voice hoarse.

Prussia frowned. He sat on the edge of the bed, putting his hand to America's forehead. His eyes widened at the flaming touch. He brushed his brother's damp hair to the side.

"Anything else hurt?"

"My stomach," he mumbled.

Prussia moved closer, moving himself so America could lean on him. America rested his head on Prussia's chest, his eyes slowly drifting shut.

Prussia felt his steady, yet racing, heartbeat over his chest. He held America's blazing hand in his. As calm as he tried to stay, his mind was racing to come up with a cause. First the phantom tear gas, then this illness. He couldn't make heads or tails of what could have caused it. It seemed like the flu, but how?

By morning, not much had changed. Prussia didn't wake America by the time Germany had woken up.

"Where's America?"

"Sleeping."

Germany raised his eyebrows as he was ready to walk out the door.

"He's got a mild fever." If mild meat extreme. "Nothing to worry about." Right.

"Do you want me to pick something up?"

"No, you've got work. I'll call Austria. He was coming over, anyways."

Germany nodded before walking out the door with a quick goodbye. When he had left, Prussia got his phone and dialed Austria's number. The line rang for a few moments before a voice answered. "Hello?"

"Austria. Hi. Could you pick something up for me on your way over?"

"Get what, exactly?" he asked skeptically.

"Just some medicine for America. He's running a fever."

The line was silent for a moment. "Prussia, I don't think medicine will help."

"Why?"

"He's probably moved to the 1900s. Do you remember that epidemic he had during World War I?"

"No," Prussia said, shaking his head to himself. "He's going to be fine."

"Of course he will. I just don't think any pharmaceutical is going to help any."

"Fine."

"Prussia? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said bluntly. "I'll see you later." Hanging up, Prussia immediately went for his flute. He found himself taking out pieces of music he hadn't touched in ages. In his room, he played through several pieces, listening to the soft notes sail through the air. Only when he finished did he stop to catch his breath. He sat on his bed, just holding his flute in hand on his lap. The music had always calmed him in a way nothing else could. Well, almost nothing else.

It must have been several minutes before he saw America standing at his door.

"America. Sorry, did I wake you?"

His hand went to rub his eye before he spoke. His hair was damp and his skin pale. "Can you play some more?" he asked softly.

Prussia stood, setting his flute aside. He went to America and knelt in front of him. "Would you like me to?"

He nodded.

"Come on." He held his hand out to America as he took it, his hand searing. Prussia lead his little brother to his bed where he tucked him in. He played until he fell asleep. His heart warmed when he saw the smile on America face. Prussia stopped playing only when he heard the knock on the door.

He checked on America once before going to answer the door, leaving his flute in his room.

He opened the front door to see Austria holding something in hand. "Here," he said immediately. "Hungary made it when she found out America was sick."

Prussia took it in hand. "Thanks." He stepped aside to let Austria in and closed the door after him. Prussia went to the kitchen to open the canister. Steam erupted when he saw a hot soup inside, chicken scent wafting up to meet his nose. He put it away for America later.

America drifted in and out if sleep. Prussia was at America's side every day. It was Austria who convinced him to go to bed every night. That America would be okay. It was around a week and a half later when his fever finally broke.

It was a Saturday morning when America woke up. He stretched his arms before sitting up. He looked up to see Prussia asleep in a chair beside the bed. Stood up and pulled a blanket from the tangle of others. He stood beside the chair Prussia was in and did his best to drape the blanket over him. He stood up on his tiptoes and have his brother a small kiss on the cheek, just as he did when he tucked him in.

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