(RusAme) ~ Roommates ~ (CountryHumans)

|2-1/

alright alright, here's your complimentary 'person A is sick and person B has to take care of them' cliche. enjoy it while it lasts :))

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Neither of them apologized.

America spent the entire night tossing and turning, debating on whether he should say something into the darkness in case Russia was awake. He had this horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, and being unable to deny what Russia had said made him feel all the more worse. He was an awful friend.

Actually, he wasn't even sure if he could call himself a friend to Russia. Russia probably hated him. He had plenty of reasons to, at least. The thing that didn't sit well with America, thought was that it had almost felt like Russia was blaming the unrest between him and Georgia on America.

But it wasn't his fault! He was just trying to help.

I always fuck it up. America bit at his thumbnail before catching himself and shoving his hand under the pillow. His nails were already short enough. Every time I open my fat mouth, I just make him more mad at me.

He sighed, turning over and staring at the wall. Maybe he should stop trying to be friends with Russia. It seemed like he didn't even want to associate with America.

Four hours later, America finally decided he should get up once the sun was leaking through the drawn blinds. To his surprise, he saw that Russia was still in bed. Usually, he got up pretty early.

He must be tired, America dismissed, picking out some clothes and going to the bathroom to take a shower. He took his time with it, coming out after 45 minutes, feeling clean and a lot better about himself.

Russia was still in bed.

What? America checked his watch. It was almost 10:00 on a Saturday, so it wasn't like either of them had classes. It wasn't against the law for Russia to sleep in.

But it was definitely odd.

Against his better judgement, America walked over and bent over the bed, trying to see Russia's face. "Rus?" he asked quietly, not wanting to make the other country lash out again. "Are you asleep?"

"Fuck off."

America quickly stepped back, but he neared again. Russia's voice sounded strained, like he had been crying, or had a sore throat, or... "Are you sick?"

Russia mumbled something unintelligible and pulled his blanket over his head.

"Are you going to stay in today?"

Russia's face appeared over the edge of his sheets, his skin covered in a red blush. His eyes were barely open. "No. I'm going to class."

"But we don't have classes today." He knew Russia's schedule like the back of his hand, as weird as that sounded, and he knew that Russia didn't have any classes scheduled on the weekends. America cautiously felt Russia's forehead with the back of his hand. Thankfully, Russia didn't move or bite back with a sarcastic comment, just closing his eyes. "You're really warm. Did you catch a fever or something?"

"Be useful and go get me some citramon," Russia grumbled, in denial of being sick. "I have stuff to do today."

"Oh! Sure!" America ran to the bathroom and grabbed a medicine bottle out of the cabinet and ran back, holding it out to Russia.

Russia shook his head. "Wrong one."

America put it back and brought out a different bottle.

"No."