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Liar- PruAus [Hetalia]


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A/N: Hallo! I'm back from the dead!! Since your friendly neighborhood dumbass is rly slow, have this PruAus oneshot I whipped up for you. It has an omake. <3


Whose moronic idea had it been to stay up all night composing without rest? Who was stupid enough to leave the back door unlocked? Who was such an imbecile that even in the freezing winter weather he didn't even bother to check that door?

Oh, that's right. Roderich.

He had just lost all hope in his latest creation. It was stillborn. No matter how much he worked on it it would never be decent enough to play in front of anyone else. But he couldn't just leave it unfinished, oh no, because then Roderich wouldn't have been able to live with himself knowing that there was an incomplete piece of music laying around somewhere. So he had decided to get it over with and write it all in one shot.

What an idiot.

In the present, Austria groans again, sniffling thickly as his fingers produce a dreadful sound on the keys. He shivers, pulling the blanket around his shoulders closer. When was the last time he'd been this sick? Roderich can't remember. It's a dreadful experience, really, trying to play the piano with a huge headache and while running a high fever. Honestly, he hasn't checked his actual temperature himself in a tiny, irrational hope that if he doesn't acknowledge it, it will subside. Roderich reaches for another tissue, pitching into it with a sharp "Hhnkxxxchu!!" and a mumbled "Pardon me" to no one in particular. Discarding the tissue, Roderich begins to play again, zoning out and forgetting everything around him. Forgetting his cell phone going off, along with the sporadic thread of bzzt!s as his phone receives texts.

In fact, it even takes him a minute to notice the albino standing outside his door, tapping furiously at the window. Roderich looks up, adjusting his glasses and squinting at the window. Is he hallucinating? Has he dehydrated himself? Roderich stands, pausing for a moment to cough into the crook of his elbow before going to the door and opening it.

Gilbert grins and waves at him, nose bright pink from the chilly air. "Roddy!" he exclaims happily, going in for a hug.

"Don't," Roderich mutters, pushing against Gilbert's chest. "I have a bit of a cold and that would be unsanitary." Of course, it isn't as if Roderich would have let the annoying albino hug him anyway! That would be horrifying, letting the other touch Roderich in such a familiar way!

"Aw, sorry to hear that," Gilbert says as Roderich widens the opening in the doorway for Gilbert to step inside. "So, I was thinking if you could help me with some piano stuff. I haven't played in forever, and I may or may not have told Mattie that I can play the piano with my eyes closed, and—"

"Fool, did you not hear what I just said? I have a cold, and I don't need your obnoxious voice ringing in my ears. I have a fever and a terrible headache and—" Austria cuts himself off, fever-flushed cheeks reddening. That definitely was not supposed to come out of his mouth.

Suddenly there's something ice cold being pressed against the back of his neck and his forehead. For a moment there's the temptation, the strong urge to lean into Prussia and let him run those freezing hands all over his heated body, but Roderich pushes these vulgar thoughts out of his head and smacks Gilbert's hands away.

"What are you doing?!" he starts to hiss, but he only manages, "What are y-yuuhh... you dohhhHHNKKXXCH!" Roderich turns his head, stifling a sneeze into the crook of his elbow. "Pardon me." When he looks up, Gilbert is frowning. It's an unsettling thing to see.

"Gesundheit. Roddy, you're burning up!"

"Don't call me that," Roderich says, doing his best not to sniffle. "And I'm not, you're just cold. Look, your nose is pink." Gilbert looks down, crossing his eyes in an attempt to peer at his chapped nose. Despite his efforts to resist, Roderich can't help but sniffle wetly.

"Anyway, Gilbert, I'd appreciate it if you leave. I'm not in the mood for a piano lesson right now."

"Does your head hurt?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Your head. Do you have a headache? You said you did, but I don't—"

"It does, and your loud chattering is no help. I'll help you with your scales some other time, just... Not right now. I have things to take care of. Besides, it would be unsanitary for you and I to play on the same piano because I'm ill."

At this, Gilbert raises an eyebrow. "You think I give a shit about it being unsanitary?"

"Clearly not," Roderich mutters under his breath, but he's ignored.

"I'm not gonna have you show me anything on the piano today, but you sure as hell aren't doing anything else but lying in bed."

"Gilbert," Roderich begins to protest, but the Prussian grabs his wrist and pulls him towards the bedroom. Why does Roderich's stomach do a flip at the skin-on-skin contact? It's a sickening feeling. In fact, he almost feels as if he's going to—

Oh. Oh no.


"No no, no complaints from you. The awesome me is going to heal you right up, Young Master."


"Hush. I don't want to hear it. Piano-san can wait for another day or two. You need rest."

"Gilbert!" This comes out as an uncharacteristically insistent whine, causing Gilbert to look back. Austria's free hand is clamped tightly against his mouth, and his eyes seem unfocused. There's a slightly green tint to his pale face.

"Oh. Ohhh... Wait, hold on, let me just—"

Roderich never finds out what Gilbert wanted him to let him just do, because this is the point in which Roderich pitches forward and vomits on his hardware floor.

"...Oh." Gilbert swallows hard as Roderich slumps weakly against him, having given up all hopes of at least maintaining some dignity. His face is scrunched up like he's about to cry, and Gilbert is certain he actually is. Hurriedly, Gilbert puts his arms around Roderich and guides him away from the puddle of sick and into the bedroom.

The aristocrat is stumbling, his eyelids drooping and nearly shut, and he hiccups. In his feverish haze he doesn't notice the way Gilbert's grip on his shoulders tightens instinctively. Sad, because the fully aware Roderich probably would have enjoyed that. As Gilbert guides him into the bed, Roderich falls forward and buries his face in the pillow.

"Wait, Roddy, we gotta get you outta these clothes."

"M'tired," Roderich slurs.

"Right, I know, but you just puked all over the floor and yourself. You can't sleep in these."

"M'tired," Roderich slurs.

Gilbert sighs, leaning forward and beginning to peel off Roderich's soiled shirt. When Roderich doesn't protest, he puts the shirt aside and starts to unbuckle the other's belt. When Roderich still doesn't react, Gilbert begins to worry. He pulls off the remainder of Austria's clothes save for his underwear and gets up.

"Don't fall asleep yet, I need to check your fever," he says sternly, picking up the pile of dirty clothes and starting out the door.

"But Gil," Roderich mumbles.


"I'm tiiired."

Prussia sighs and leaves the room.

After quickly dropping the clothes into a basket and placing it near the washing machine, Gilbert heads to the bathroom. He washes his hands, opening the cabinet. Pocketing a bottle of ibuprofen and a few cough drops, he finds the digital thermometer and shuts the door.

"Rod, are you asleep?" Gilbert calls gently as he walks back into the other's bedroom. To his surprise, Austria is laying on his back under the covers, with his head tipped back and eyebrows twitching. Gilbert leans on the doorframe curiously. What on earth...?

"HhtCHOO!" Roderich's head snaps forward with the force of his sneeze, pitching into the covers. Gilbert cocks an eyebrow, confused for a moment, until he realizes Roderich is asleep. Roderich sniffles, nose twitching and nostrils flaring, and Gilbert folds his arms silently.

"HiihTCHOO! Heh... HyetcHOO! Ugh... Huh... HhihTCHH!" Roderich sits up, rubbing his nose with a fist. Blearily, he blinks. What...

He notices Gilbert in the doorway with something in his hand and waves him over. When the albino approaches him, Roderich narrows his eyes.

"Did you go outside again?" he asks. Gilbert scrubs a finger under his nose and sniffs.

"No, why?"

"Yes you did. Your nose is pink from the cold." With this he reaches forward and flicks Gilbert's nose.

Gilbert shrugs. "Might've stepped out for a bit," he says, biting his lower lip.

"Hmph." Roderich folds his arms, turning his head to cough. Gilbert cringes.


"You sound terrible. Oh, right, here, open up." Prussia sits on the edge of Roderich's bed, leaning forward and placing the thermometer under his tongue. Impatiently, Roderich squirms as they both wait silently for the—

'BEEP!' Gilbert retrieves the thermometer and scowls at the display. "38.5! Mein Gott, Roderich!" The other mutters something about not feeling particularly hot at all, then points at Gil's pocket.

"What's that?" Gilbert looks down, blushing and chuckling nervously.

"Oh, uh, that? Um, yeah, that's... That's ibuprofen. I-It's for Ludwig, he isn't feeling well either." More lip-biting.



"You should get back home to him, then. I can very well take care of myself." Gilbert smirks.

"Oh, ja? Alright, Roddy, you can take care of yourself, and beer is gross." Roderich scowls and Gilbert stands up, running a hand through his silvery hair and clearing his throat.

"Do you need anything? Food, water, pillows, a lullaby—"


"Are you sure? Not even a glass of water? You look thirsty."

At this point, Roderich is getting annoyed and he throws a pillow at Gilbert's head. He misses. Typical Austria.

"Alright, alright!" Gil exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "I get it! Jeez. I'm going to pick up a bit downstairs. Try to get some sleep. Okay?"

Really? Get some sleep? It isn't as if he wants to curl up into a ball and sleep anyway. It's not like Roderich feels ready to hibernate. Yes, he'll just make an earnest attempt to fall into slumber, even though he's just DYING to move around and he can't seem to keep his eyes closed.

Roderich pulls the covers back over his head with a quiet "Nkchu!" He hears footsteps and then they fade. And then he's asleep.

However, his blissful slumber is short-lived. His sleep is fitful; Roderich eventually manages to thoroughly tangle himself with his bedsheets. His limbs feel lead heavy, his whole body sore, and the bits of rest he actually gets are ridden with nightmares.

"H-Heh..." Still half asleep, Roderich moans and rolls over, rubbing his nose on his pillow in an attempt to alleviate the itch.

"Hehh... Ughhh... HyeetChU! HAHHTCHOO! Heh... Hh... HiHTCHH!" Roderich sniffles wetly, reaching for a tissue from his bedside table and blowing his nose.

"Haah-hiijch! Shit!" Roderich stops and frowns. What was that noise? It almost sounded like...

"Shit, shit, shit, shit..." The muttering gets louder as footsteps near the door and Austria nearly shuts his eyes, leaving them open wide enough for him to see. Gilbert passes by the doorway, one hand pressed against his nose and the other closed around what looks like a small bottle. Oddly enough, Roderich sees the bathroom light flicker on and then off again; Gilbert passes the door again on his way back to the living room, clutching paper towels and bleach.

Oh, God...

Suddenly Gilbert stops in his tracks. He turns so that Roderich can only see the back of his head and his attractive, finely sculpted— Ahem. Gilbert lurches forward with a muffled, "Hiijshh!"

Normally, Roderich would have dismissed this, and continued sleeping. But he's sick, and feverish, and aggravated with himself, and he really really really does /not/ want to deal with Gilbert's annoying and unexplained sneezes right now. So Roderich makes the rash, unwise decision to sit up and try to snap at the other.

"Hey," he rasps, fighting the urge to flop right back down and fall asleep to rid himself of his throbbing head. A deer caught in headlights, Prussia tenses and turns, shoving the paper towels and cleaner behind his back.

"Whad are you doi'g?" Roderich demands, hoping Gilbert won't notice the thick congestion in his voice.

"N-Nothing, what... What? I, er, spilled some water." Yeah. Sure.

Doubtful, Austria narrows his tired eyes and folds his arms. The action is multipurpose— Half because Roderich wants to express his annoyance, and half because his hands are clammy and slightly shaking and he's chilled to the bone.

"Do you... Do you need anything?"

Instinctively, Roderich almost snaps, "No, I don't need a thing, now leave me alone and get out of my house, you useless uncultured swine." He doesn't, though, and instead chooses to stare at the tangled bedsheets and ask for some ibuprofen.

Gilbert swallows so hard it's clearly visible.

"I don't think you have any more," he says, lips slipping behind his teeth.

"Do, rebeber you said you were taki'g sobe for your brodder? It was id your pockged."

"No. You must have been tired. I never saw any." Gilbert chews vigorously. "I can barely understand you anyway."

"You're lyi'g. I cad tell." Roderich sniffles and starts to push his sheets away.

"W-What are you doing?" Gilbert asks hurriedly, staring guiltily at the other.

"I'b goi'g dowdsdairs. You're goi'g to help be, or else I'b kicki'g you ouu... ahh..." Gilbert puts the hidden objects down and approaches Roderich, grabbing his hands. Austria glares up at him quizzically.

"You'll hurt your nose if you stifle," he explains, causing the sweaty hands in his grasp to start wriggling away.

"G-Gilbe-eeh..." Roderich's eyes flutter closed involuntarily as he attempts to turn his head away. Not much is managed, and he gives up trying to spare himself some dignity and lets his head start to fall back.

Gilbert looks on, feeling a tickle in his own nose start to form. It would be really fucked up if he were to sneeze right now. He swallows, sniffing to try and escape it. The tickle migrates to his throat and he tries desperately to clear it.

"Hnn... Gilbert, I cad't," Roderich says quietly, sniffling wetly and twitching his nose. Without hesitation, the other lets go of his hands and leaves the room with no explanation. Slowly crawling out of bed, Roderich presses the back of his wrist against his nose, trying to suppress the tickle.

It's there. He can feel it. Bothering his sinuses as it branches out and irritates his nose, the forming sneeze forcing his breath to hitch.

"Hih... Hiiih..." Furiously rubbing two fingers under his nostrils, he begins to walk towards the living room. Of course, it'd probably be wise to stop before he toppled over, but Roderich wanted to catch Gilbert in the middle of whatever the hell he was doing.

"Shit, it isn't coming out..." As Roderich reaches his desired destination, he catches sight of Gilbert on his knees, leaning over his expensive white carpet, scrubbing furiously at it.

Paper towels are strewn all over the carpet around Gilbert. An open bottle of liquid ibuprofen (Roderich's ibuprofen!) sits on a footrest near him. He sighs and pulls his shirt collar over his mouth, coughing. "Fuckin' bleach." As he leans back to reach for more of this fuckin' bleach, Austria's heart leaps into his throat and he yelps.


Gilbert looks back at him with wide, red eyes of guilt and fear. Before him on the floor is a large, dark red stain, slightly faded by the bleach. He's obviously been scrubbing at it desperately, considering the amount of crumpled paper towels that have been discarded.

"U-Um..." Roderich starts to yell some more, but then he stops. Finally succumbing to the sneezes, he turns his head and cups a hand over his mouth and nose.

"Hehhtchh! HeeytCHU! HAHHTCHOO! Hii'TCHH! Hep'SCHUU! Hnn..." Roderich sniffles wetly, rubbing at his red nose with a fist.

"Gesundheit... Okay, um, I can explain—"

"P-Paa-aah... HeytcHUU! Heh... Haahh... HahhTCH...chu! Mbb... Pardon be..." Austria keeps his hand over his mouth and nose, eyes searching desperately for a tissue. Gilbert holds a box out to him and Roderich takes a tissue.

"Eh, Gesundheit."

Roderich blows his nose loudly, his entire face burning bright red now. He lowers the tissue and begins to speak.

"Gilbert. How did you manage to get medicine... From a sealed, CHILDPROOF bottle... Onto my fucking carpet?"

Uh-oh. Gilbert swallows hard. Usually, Roderich won't swear unless he's really angry, or really drunk. Obviously he isn't drunk and Gilbert finds it wise to swallow his pride and lower his gaze.

"Well?!" Roderich wraps his arms around himself, tapping his foot angrily.

"I-I..." Gilbert chews his lower lip. "I was just—"

"You're lying."

"Huh?! Come on, I haven't even said anything yet!"

"You were about to lie. I can tell. You bite your lip when you lie; look how raw it is. It's even bleeding, for the love of God." Gilbert frowns and licks his lip, scowling at the taste of blood.

"Spit it out. How did you spill it?"

"I was trying to open it..." the other begins to admit, placing his hand on the back of his neck. "And I dropped it..."

"Why did you drop it?" When Prussia cocks an eyebrow, Austria scoffs and swats the other's head. "I know you're clumsy, but you aren't so clumsy as to just drop things right from your hands. Something made you drop it; what was it?" He sits down in front of Gilbert so that the guilty nation has to look him in the eye.

"I sneezed," Gilbert finally mumbles. Roderich nods.

"I knew it. You're sick, too, aren't you? That's why you were trying to open the bottle?"


"That's what I thought. Alright, come on." Getting to his feet, Roderich grabs Gilbert's arm and begins to drag him back the way he came. Just as Gilbert did earlier.


"If I have to stay in bed, so do you." As if he's about to continue, he opens his mouth, but he has to press a wet cough into the crook of his elbow. "Eh, pardon me. I'm calling Elizaveta."

"What?! No!" At the sound of the female nation's name, Gilbert begins to squirm, weakened by helpless sneezes as Roderich drags him closer and closer to his bedroom.

"Hajiishhu!! Hihjch! Hnnnehhh... HEHHJCHHU!!"

"Gesundheit. In you go." Roderich shoves Gilbert into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Get in bed."

"Are you goi'g to cuddle be, You'g Baster?" Prussia teases, wiggling his eyebrows playfully as he climbs into the bed.

"You sound horrid," 'You'g Baster' replies as he joins the albino, wrapping the covers around both of them.

"Wait. Really? You're actually goi'g to do it?"

"Shut up and go to sleep," Roderich mumbles as he pulls Gilbert closer, burying his face in the soft fabric of his shirt.

Gilbert stares, flushed and wide-eyed, at the ill nation who is now cuddling close to him. Oh, he looks so fragile, so weakened, with the way he's clutching Gilbert's shirt. Sweat gathers at his hairline and Gilbert smoothes the dark locks away from Roderich's pale face. Suddenly there's the overwhelming urge to... On a whim, Gilbert presses a kiss to Roderich's hot forehead. And Austria smiles. Gilbert should probably say something meaningful, but instead he just wraps his arms around Roderich's bare back, pulling him so close their hips touch. Then, sheepishly, he mutters,

"...Don't call Liz."

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Something cool and damp touches his forehead. It feels so wonderful against his sweaty, burning skin, and he groans. There's the click of a tongue and someone whispers, "Open your mouth." At first Gilbert is hesitant, but the voice is so soft, so angelic, that he obeys. A thin object, perhaps a thermometer, is slipped under his tongue. Gilbert sniffles and reaches up to rub his nose. Suddenly there's movement beside him, and a muffled, "Hiht-chu!" and Gilbert comes to his senses.


Hungary shoots him a smile of pity. "Aw, you poor babies. You two are really sick, huh?" The thermometer beeps and Elizaveta removes it from Gilbert's mouth. "Tsk," she says as she reads the display. "You both have really high fevers." Then her smile curls into something of an amused smirk. "When Rod texted me, he said it was an emergency, so I came as quick as I could. But when I got here you two were snuggled up so comfy it was heartbreaking to have to wake you."

Roderich coughs harshly into his fist, making Elizaveta frown, before propping himself up on his elbow and gazing at Gilbert. "I knew you would get worse," he mumbles, speech slurred slightly by the feverish haze he's stuck in.

"From what Rod's told me, you came over— already sick, idiot— and seeing that Rod wasn't well, you tried to take care of him. Great job, by the way. You agitated him so much that both his blood pressure and his fever have gone way up. Doctor of the year!"

Gilbert feels his warm cheeks heat up, and he fails to respond. Instead, he sniffles and looks away, reaching for the tissue box. It topples over and falls to the ground as he pulls a tissue out, and he sighs and reaches for it.

"Wait, Gil—"

As he bends over his breathing is thrown off, and he clutches the bedsheets desperately as he's hit with a coughing fit like a solid brick.

"Gilbert?" Roderich's eyebrows are furrowed in concern as he stretches his arm out to rub the other's back. Elizaveta shakes her head and hurries to help Gilbert back into a sitting position.

All the coughing has definitely put a tickle into his sinuses, and before Elizaveta has the time to move away he pitches forward and succumbs to the nagging sneezes.

"Hahjjish!! HiiHJSHH!"

Elizaveta jumps away, yelping and wiping at her face with her sleeve. "Gil, grooooss!" she groans, changing positions so she can stand beside a teary-eyed, itchy-nosed Roderich.


"Gesun-hHeeHK'SHOO!" Elizaveta gives another squeak, sighing with exasperation as she reaches for a towel to wipe her thoroughly sprayed and contaminated face.

"PardaaahhiT-CHH! HEYTCHH! Nnngh, pardod be." Elizaveta throws the tissue box at him, scowling.

"I can't believe you two. Hye-ehshii! Oh, shit..."


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Oh my gosh

This is fantastic. I adore PruAus, and you've done such wonderful things with it. ;u;

First of all, it's just so like Roddie to shut the world out and stay up all night composing like that. Meshes with all of my headcanons, at least.

And your characterizations in general were just wonderful and everything was so damn cute and ahhhhh~ Especially the ending. Don't get me started on the ending.

"Wait. Really? You're actually goi'g to do it?"

So perfect. Altogether. I love this. :D

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