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Spain's Misery


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"Hu-hu-huptchoo!!" Spain sneezed for the millionth time that day. He whimpered at the raw pain that it brought to his throat and rubbed his nose with a tissue.

China frowned and handed him some throat lozenges. "You sound like you could use these, aru."

Spain blushed faintly, the redness in his cheeks contrasting with the pallor of the rest of his face. "Gracias, a-a-herschh!! Hashhoo!!" He moaned and sucked on a lozenge, lowering his eyes in embarrassment. He'd gone into the world meeting with a coat, scarf, a box of tissues, a thermos of tea, and cold medicine. He'd been congested and feverish for the past couple of days and it really sucked. Despite the warmth of the room and his heavy clothes he was shivering like a naked man in a blizzard. The noise in the room made his head pound and just looking at the chips America was snacking on made him queasy.

"You should go-a home, big brother Spain," Italy told him worriedly, laying a hand on his arm. His hand felt very cold to the touch, a sure sign that Spain was running a fever. "You don't sound so good."

Spain cleared his throat. "I-ngghhh....I'be beed battling a cold the past--hisschew!! couple days, it's do big deal..."

"Idiot, you sound like shit." A familiar voice made Spain's head turn, and he smiled weakly.

"Rooooba," he sang, his voice painfully hoarse. Romano sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on, tomato bastard, I'm taking you home."

Spain shook his head firmly, his cheeks heating up with embarrassed. "Robado, I-a-achoo!! Hersccchhh!! Hip'schhh~!" His head propelled forward with the force of each sneeze and he held his stomach, feeling a little dizzy and disoriented. "I...ughh..." He tried to stand but the room tilted and Romano gently sat him back down.

"Dude," America spoke up, "you sound, like, so freakin' gross. You better get home, we wouldn't judge ya for that."

Spain nodded miserably, sniffling and dabbing at the chapped skin of his nose with another tissue. Beads of feverish sweat appeared on his forehead and Romano laid a hand against it and shook his head. "You're burning...idiot." He helped him up and down the stairs, all the way to his car, where he sat him in shotgun. "Buckle up, tomato bastard."

Spain sniffled and tried to stifle a sneeze, only giving himself a panging headache. "Tschh! Krssst!! Ugh... Robado I dod't thidk I'be ever felt this- hrssscht!! terrible..."

Romano rolled his eyes and backed out of the parking lot. "Even when you had the plague and almost died? Or when a bull stepped on your foot as it ran by? Or when you ate really old churros-"

"Okay, okay." Spain tried to chuckle but it came out as a congested coughing sound. "You wid, and I'b stayidg h-h-hat'choo!...hobe..." He sniffled and leaned back against the headrest, shivering with fever.

"I'll take care of you," Romano sighed, knowing what Spain wanted without him even having to ask.

"But you--hetschoo!! You could get sick..."

Spain was interrupted by a series of wet sneezes from the Italian, followed by a sniffle. Romano glared at him with a growing blush on his cheeks. "Too late."

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Part 2 (Spain, Romano)


"Hu-hutchoo!!" Spain sneezed into the crook of his arm and groaned, wiping his further reddening nose. "Hey look, dow we both look like tobatoes...' He tried to chuckle but it turned into a congested cough. He took of his jacket and went to the kitchen for some more medicine.

Romano rolled his eyes and sniffled, dread flooding his stomach because he knew that he was coming down with the same cold that had the other nation so miserable. He reached on his toes to feel Spain's forehead and frowned; it was like dry coals "Take your temperature, stupid. That's gotta be at least thirty-eight. Hi-hitcheww!! Snnggghhhh..." He wiped his nose on a handkerchief and cursed under his breath, digging through the cabinets until he found a thermometer and handing it roughly to Spain.

Spain took the device and sighed, shaking it and leaning back against the wall while he held it under his own tongue. He sniffled and groaned as he hit his head on the wall with the force of the next sneeze, all the while trying to keep the thermometer in his mouth. "A-a-asscchhh!!" Hit-schhh!! Tssschh!! Ngghh...mmm..." He shivered a little and took the thermometer out when it beeped, holding his forehead. "Dios mio, I'm 39.5..." Was he really that hot?

"You...ha-hasshew!! You should be in bed..." Romano tried to blow his nose but stopped when he had to sneeze again. "T-hssschh!! Hit'schh!" He whimpered slightly as the last sneeze brought a little pain to his throat. He sat with his arms folded and his head lying in them at the kitchen table. Spain reached down to feel his forehead and frowned.

"You're pretty warb yourself, Roba," he sighed, tucking the thermometer between the younger nation's lips. He turned away to sneeze again and Romano sighed and held the little device for him. "Aschoo! Te-he'shheww!! Ugh, Robado..." He waited for the beep and read off the Italian nation's temperature with a frown. "Well you're not as high, but it is 38 so you'd better get some rest too."

Romano frowned but felt too miserable to even glare at him. "I-isshoo!! Ugghh.. I have an idea."

Spain sniffled and rubbed his nose. "Que?"

Romano actually took his hand, and if Spain wasn't already running a fever his cheeks would have reddened significantly. "Cobe here, bastard," Romano told him, and lead him to the couch, pulling a blanket over both of them and yawning. He reached for the remote and turned on Netflix before looking back at Spain. He was already asleep. "Idiot," Romano whispered before cuddling up close to him and dozing off himself.

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So I'm going to create a drabble thread thingy so look for me under Señorita Tomatoes' Hetalia Drabbles for more stories :)

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Ooh, yay, more Hetalia! (I actually have never found my way to the real stuff, but I love me some Hetalia coldfics for some reason.)

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