"ACHOO!"

"Gesundheit." I hear my younger brother's voice echo from downstairs.

"Danke, West," my response automatic despite knowing he won't hear it.

I can't believe the awesome me is sick. How did I catch the cold anyways? I was perfectly fine yesterday when I was hanging out with Franny and Toni. They didn't seem sick either. Ugh, so unawesome.

At least I don't have to go to school today. Bruder insists I stay home to rest. No arguments there. High school is a waste of time. The subjects are stupid (I don't need Chemistry when I'm a rock star), the teachers don't like me (they don't appreciate my awesome pranks), and everyone thinks I'm an idiot (of course they're wrong). Yeah, I'm popular, and people like me, but I know they're only pretending to care. They want to be popular themselves, or whatever the hell they think. The only real friends I have are Francis and Antonio, maybe Elizabeta and Roderich (although, that's another story). We've been together since we were kids, and they've stuck by me through all my weird phases. And vice versa.

Ludwig opens the door to my room and stands at the entrance, holding the knob. "Gilbert, I'm going to school now. Make sure you stay in bed and rest. There is soup on the stove when you get hungry. I have newspaper club after school so I'll be home late. Call me if you need anything." My efficient, little brother can be such a worrywart sometimes.

"Yes, mom." I stick out my tongue.

He shakes his head at my ridiculousness then closes the door. I can hear his footsteps fading and the front door closing a few seconds later.

The only downside to staying home is not seeing Birdie. His actual name is Matthew Williams, and we have a few classes together. He's quiet and shy for the most part, but once you get to know him he is kind, sarcastic, and unafraid to stand up for what he believes in. He's almost as awesome as me. I've only just recently had conversations with him even though I've seen him around school for some time now.

I had first noticed him last year, during lunch. I was sitting at the popular table near the back of the cafeteria, socializing with everyone, when I saw Birdie from the corner of my eye. He had his head down, long honey blond waves draping his face, not really paying attention to his surroundings. It seemed like the people around him didn't realize he was there because the next thing that happened, a girl bumps into him, causing him to slip on a puddle of some unidentified liquid and fall face forward. Everyone carried on without incident. Why is no one helping him? I rush to see the damage.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask as I help him up.

Matthew is studying his feet. He shakes his head no, taking off his somewhat broken glasses to wipe his eyes with his sleeve. After what felt like a minute, he places his glasses back on his face and finally looks up at me, a quiet gasp escaping him. I was quickly enamored with his eyes. Big, glistening violet jewels staring back. I had never seen anything like them. He breaks the spell when he quickly gathers his things and runs away. I stood there dumbfounded. It wasn't until Francis came over to tell me lunch was over. Huh, I didn't even hear the bell ring.

I'm not sure if he remembers me helping him. I guess he was embarrassed, or maybe he was afraid of my red eyes like most people are. His skittishness reminded me of a bird and since then dubbed him Birdie, only in my head of course. Although, one time I accidentally referred to him as Birdie. Mattie asked me why I called him that. I became flustered and said his hair was the same color as my bird's feathers and that he was awesome like him, which is true. Luckily he bought it, though I get the feeling he was only playing along.

My phone made a pop sound, alerting me of a new message from Facebook's Messenger app. I click on the picture of Rainbow Dash wearing shades.

Your Daily Dose of SPF

Francis Bonnefoy Mon ami, why have you forsaken us?

Antonio Fernández Carriedo We miss you!

Gilbert Beilschmidt The awesome me caught the unawesome cold. No school for me. Suck it, losers.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo Awwwww :( Get well soon, amigo! *hugs*

Francis Bonnefoy Do you want us to give you notes from your classes?

Gilbert Beilschmidt Do you not know me, Franny?

Francis Bonnefoy Silly me. I forgot you don't care.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo But then how will you pass eleventh grade? Finals are coming up. You need the notes Gilly.

Gilbert Beilschmidt Uggggh, fiiiiine. Stop by after school or something.

Francis Bonnefoy I'll try, but I have to babysit my baby cousin Lucille.

Antonio Fernández Carriedo I got work with Lovi at Señor Vargas' restaurant after school. Sorry :(

Gilbert Beilschmidt Wtf

Francis Bonnefoy We'll get it to you somehow.

Francis Bonnefoy Class is starting. Au revoir, mon chér. :*

Gilbert Beilschmidt Seriously? Fine then. :P

Antonio Fernández Carriedo Love you too! *heart emoji*

Well, that was a waste. I wanted to keep talking to them, but no, they pay attention in class. Whatever, I'll just get some shut eye until West comes home.

I wake up after hearing the obnoxious doorbell ring. What the hell? What time is it? I glance at the clock. Crap, it's almost 3 o'clock. It's probably Franny with the notes.

Yawning, I make my way downstairs, wrapping a blanket around my body since I'm only wearing boxers and I figured it wouldn't be decent to answer the door naked. The doorbell rings again.

"I'm coming!" I try to say loudly. My groggy voice sounds pathetic to my own ears.

As I open the door, I realize I should have put on some clothes because Matthew is standing there. Wait, Mattie?! Why is Birdie here?! Blushing, I try to secure the blanket around me more so.

Matthew is silent for a bit, gaping slightly. I'm guessing he's trying to make out my outfit. He waves with his free hand. "H-hey Gil. I heard that you were sick, so I came by to drop off some notes, and I also br-bought medicine from the store on the way. How are you feeling," he asked, stuttering.

I couldn't believe that Birdie is here, at my house, on my doorstep. I blinked. C'mon Gilbert, say something! He asked you a question.

"Uh, not too good. My nose is stuffy, my throat is scratchy, and I feel lightheaded sometimes. You probably shouldn't come near me right now. Why are you even here?" Oh, great. That sounded like I didn't want him here at all.

"Oh. Right," he said, dejected. "I should explain. I was walking down the hallway, about to leave school, when I overheard your friends talking about how you have a cold and that they couldn't deliver the notes to you because they were busy, so I volunteered. They gave me your address, and after a short bus ride to the drugstore and some walking, here I am. And, don't worry about contaminating me. I have a great immune system," Matthew rambled on. He was looking down, fiddling with the pharmacy bag in his hands.

Was it just me or was he nervous? I could see the faint blush on his cheeks. Hmm, that's strange. He's not getting sick already, is he?

"I don't want you to catch it." I really don't want Birdie to get sick.

"Gilbert, I want to help. I'll leave as soon as I give you the medicine and explain what you missed in your classes," his voice firm. When Mattie is dead-set on something, he will not budge.

"You can't blame me when you do get sick. I tried to keep you away for your own good." I step aside to let him in.

"You mean, if I do get sick. And, I'll still blame you. It would be your fault after all." He walks in and I close the door behind him.

"Fine, fine. I'll take full responsibility if you get sick."

I lead him to the living room and tell him to wait while I go change. "You can sit or look around or whatever you want. It won't take long."

He nods and quietly sits down on our old, yet comfy, couch.

As soon as I'm out of sight, I rush to my room. Oh no, it's a mess! It's not that bad, honestly, but this is unacceptable. I blame the sickness for making me too tired to clean my normally well-kept room.

I put on the first shirt and pair of pants I see, coincidentally the outfit I wore yesterday, and quickly pick up the few remaining articles of clothing from the floor and throw it in the hamper, shutting the closet door. Next, I dispose of all the used tissues around my bed, and spray Lysol everywhere. I'm sure it smells even if my nose is out of order at the moment, and it'll get rid of 99.99% of the bacteria as well. I cough as some of it enters my mouth. After I'm done opening the window to air out some of the toxic chemicals, I fetch Mattie.

When I return, I find him studying the class notes. He is slouching a bit, his eyebrows slightly scrunched up, a curled finger rhythmically tapping his pursed, pink lips . . . don't lose focus, awesome me! I mentally slap myself.

"Alright, I'm decent now. Let's head to my room. Sorry in advance if it's not clean and stuff."

He chuckles lightly then follows me up the stairs. "I don't mind if it's not clean. It's your room, you know."

"Okay, we have arrived at the awesome me's room!" I point to the sign on my door that reads, "The Awesome Me's Room." It has a poorly drawn chick in the corner of the sign, with a huge speech bubble coming out of the bird's beak.

Mattie laughs uncontrollably. "Oh my gosh, Gil," he says when he catches his breath. "You would write that."
"Hey, I made that when I was a kid. It has a special place in my heart." I dramatically defend my work of art, with distant eyes and hands over my heart.

"Is that supposed to be your pet bird you were telling me about?"

"What do you mean 'supposed to be'? It's Gilbird!"

"Gilbird?" Mattie breaks into giggles again. "You named your bird after you," more of a statement rather than a question.

"Of course! My bird is awesome, and I am awesome. Therefore, he should have an awesome name like mine," I boast.

"Hahaha. Of course, how appropriate." He wipes a tear from his eye. "I hope I get to meet Gilbird."

I realize we've been standing in front of my door for about five minutes and I haven't actually shown him my room yet. How awkward. I open the door and point towards my desk. "You can sit on the rolling chair. My bed is full of unawesome germs." I'm trying to be a gentleman here.

"Okay. Here's the medicine. I wasn't sure how bad of a cold you had, so I bought a little of everything. I searched a few websites on my phone just in case," he says sheepishly.

After he hands me the plastic bag, I spill its contents onto my bed. Woah, he wasn't kidding. There's Advil, Nyquil, generic saline nasal spray, Zinc tablets, Vitamin C gummies, Emergen-C packets, TheraFlu, normal chamomile tea, a box of tissues, and a get well card.

"Wow, this is a lot. You didn't have to buy all this stuff. Thank you." I smile at him, and I see a slight flush on his cheeks, probably from embarrassment.

I read the American Greetings card. It's cardboard brown and it has a cartoon drawing of a cloud with a default face, rain pouring from it. The card reads, "Life doesn't come with any guarantees, but friendship does . . ." Inside, the cloud is now smiling and a happy sun is next to it. The words continue, "You can count on that – and me!" At the bottom, Matthew dated and signed it along with a few words, "I hope you feel better real soon. The cold does not fit the awesome you." I can't help but smile. He's so cute. This makes me like him even more. Ugh, what am I going to do?

"I know, but I wanted to," he responds to my earlier comment. "Sorry I went a little overboard."

"No, don't worry about it. I really appreciate it. And, I'll pay you back. This couldn't have been cheap. Hold on, lemme get my wallet."

"It's okay, Gil. You don't need to do that."

"I know, but I want to, Birdie." I echo his words from earlier, showing him my signature smirk. I lean towards the desk to fetch my wallet and hand him a $20 bill. He pushes it away, shaking his head.

Nope, he's not winning this round. I grab his hand and gently pry it open, placing the money in his palm then closing it into a fist. I allow my hands to linger for a moment, long enough to memorize the feeling yet short enough to get away with it. "There," I say with finality.

Mattie reluctantly accepts defeat, folding it and stuffing it in his pocket.

It's silent after that. I notice him tying and retying the two drawstrings from his red hoodie. Not wanting it to get awkward again, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "You wanna see Gilbird, right? Hold on, I'll go get him." I rush out without hearing his response, almost tripping and falling down the stairs.

I walk to our backyard and open Gilbird's cage. He flies around my head for a bit before burrowing himself in my silver hair. I have to gather my thoughts before I return. It's getting harder and harder to contain these feelings. I scoop him up in my hands, petting him softly with one finger. "Gilbird, Birdie is so . . . ugh, I like him so much. I don't know what to do. I don't want to scare him off, again." The little bird peeps in response. "Yeah, you're right. I have to be patient. I mean, it's been a year since I've met him, less than that since I've liked him, and a couple of months of actually talking to him. It's been so long . . . I shouldn't get my hopes up." I say with a hint of sarcasm, ending with a sigh. I place Gilbird back on my head as I walk back inside the house.

I make a pit stop at the kitchen to fill up two glasses of water and heat up the soup while I'm at it. I hadn't realized I was hungry. I wonder if Mattie is hungry too and would like some chicken noodle soup, or wurst, or maybe even pancakes if we have the ingredients.

"Hey, Mattie!" I hope my voice is loud enough.

After a few seconds, I see his head poke out from the kitchen entrance. "You called?"

"Are you hungry? I'm heating up the soup my bruder made. Do you want some? We also have whatever is in the fridge if you prefer that." I motion for him to check out the refrigerator, but he shakes his head no.

"You need that soup, and I'm okay really. I can eat something when I go home." As if on cue, his stomach betrays him and grumbles. Birdie avoids the smirk I'm sending his way.

"How about pancakes, then? I think we have everything you need to make them?"

"Are you asking me to make you pancakes even though you're sick and should only eat soup?"

"No, I'm asking you to make them for you since you're hungry. If you so happen to make extra, well then I can't let that go to waste." It's always fun to tease Mattie.

He playfully sighs, but I can tell he's smiling. "Alright, Gil. I'll make the pancakes while you study."

"What? But Biiirdiieee~"

"It's only fair. Plus, I know you won't even look at them when I leave, so I'm going to make sure you catch up."

"Anything for your pancakes," I readily agree to his proposition.

Back in my room, the bird I forgot was in my hair decides to make himself known with small chirps. (Yes, he was in my hair the entire time we were in the kitchen. He often falls asleep that way.) Matthew gives me a questioning look. I carefully pluck Gilbird from my head.

"This is the awesome Gilbird," I announce. The little yellow ball of fluff flies out of my hands and circles around Mattie.

"He's adorable," Birdie giggles. The smile on his face grows as Gilbird lands on his hair. I can tell he's a little nervous and isn't sure how to react.

"Huh. Gilbird has only ever liked my hair. You really are special, Birdie." Oh crap. I didn't mean to say that last part.

I guess Mattie was preoccupied with my pet's antics and didn't hear me. I was slightly relieved, yet I sighed.

"Hey, Birdie?"

He turns my way. "Yeah?"

Okay, I'm going to do it. I'm going to ask him out. I can't keep waiting around for some sort of sign. C'mon, you're the awesome Gilbert. Like Shia LaBeouf says, just do it. Don't be a chicken. Oh my gosh, he's so cute with Gilbird messing up his hair.

"Are you okay, Gil? You're staring."

Oh, great. Now I look like a Schwachkopf. Say something! Anything!

"Uhhh, yeah. I'm awesome. Kesesese," I laugh nervously.

"Okay . . ."

Suddenly, "American Idiot" is playing. The universe is making fun of me right now.

"Ah, my brother is calling. I'll be right back." Mattie steps into the hallway to answer his cell phone.

I can hear his voice faintly. He sounds annoyed. I'm not surprised. Alfred F. Jones is one annoying guy. Though, he can be fun when it comes to playing sports or video games.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go home now. Miraculously my brother noticed that I was gone and he told our parents I was possibly kidnapped so he had to be a hero and track me down." He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Where did he even go?" I ask.

" . . . McDonald's."

I burst out laughing. "Are you sure he was looking for you, or a dozen hamburgers?"

"Maybe he got hungry after searching for me," he shrugs. "Either way, I have to leave now before my parents freak out more." Mattie collects his things.

As we make our way to the front door, I gather up the courage, once again, to ask him out on a date. I was about to speak when Birdie beats me to it.

"Bye Gil. Get well soon so you can come back to school." He waves and turns around, about to walk away. I instinctively reach out and grab his wrist.

"Wait, Birdie. I need to tell you something."

"Yes, Gil?" He is facing me now, his eyes as bright as the galaxies, eagerly waiting for what I'm about to say. I get lost in them effortlessly, just as I did the first time I saw them.

"I . . ." There's a lump growing in my throat. I can feel the warmth of his hand, almost burning. I'm starting to sweat. I don't want to let go.

I cough to rid of my nerves. "Will you . . .

"ACHOO!" I sneeze loudly. Seriously? Verdammt, I was about to ask him, too. Stupid cold. Wait, did I sneeze on Mattie?

I open my eyes to see him wiping his face with his sleeve. I did! He'll definitely get sick now. How unawesome of me.

"That . . . was kind of gross, Gil. But no damage done, really," he chuckles. I'm surprised he's not mad or disgusted by me.

Matthew continues, "Did you want to say something," his eyes pleading.

"Umm, yeah." I look away for a moment to collect my thoughts and take a deep breath. Alright, no more waiting. It's now or never.

Gazing into his infinite eyes, I finally tell Birdie what I have been wanting since forever.

"Matthew. Would you like to go on a date with me? I really like you, and I want us to be more than friends. Ever since I helped you that day in the cafeteria, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and when I found out we would be in a couple of the same classes this year, I had to get to know you. You're beautiful and amazing and so precious to me."

All these words were tumbling from my mouth without permission; I couldn't stop my confession. By this point, Mattie was tearing up.

"Oh, no! I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry, Birdie. Please, don't fly away. I – "

"Gilbert." Matthew's soft-spoken voice breaks my frantic apology. "I'm so happy. I can't believe you feel the same way as I do." His smile is broad with wet streaks adorning his cheeks. "This has to be a dream."

I gingerly wipe away the remaining tears with my thumb. "So," I can't help but tease him a little after that last comment, "you dream about me?" I waggle my eyebrows suggestively.

"You're ridiculous."

"C'mon. You gave me an opening."

"Way to ruin the moment."

"Kesesese."

"I seriously have to go now. Bye, Gil." Mattie begins to run off.

I'm still laughing when I realize he's leaving. "Wait! You didn't answer my question," I call out to him.

He merely smiles and continues on his way.

"BIIIRDI – ack," a harsh cough interrupts my whining. I guess my throat hurts from all the yelling, and the cold I momentarily forgot about is not helping.

A ding sound comes from my phone. It's a text message from "Birdie *heart emoji*" with only a three-letter word: Yes.

Notes:

I'm not sure of the exact setting, besides it taking place in America. Maybe California, since that's where I'm from. With the American School System in mind, everyone is around 16-18 years old.

I have a headcanon that Gilbert is a brony, and he dragged Francis and Antonio into watching the show, and now they secretly like it too.

The "Your Daily Dose of SPF" is a play on the first letter of their country names: Spain, Prussia, and France. It also serves as a reminder for Gilbert to put on sunscreen because he forgets, or gets easily distracted, or thinks he's too awesome to get sunburnt. (Well, I thought it was clever.)

Francis' baby cousin Lucille is Monaco. I like to think they are related since Monaco is on France's Mediterranean coastline.

Antonio works as a part-time waiter at Romulus Vargas' famous Italian Restaurant. After pestering his boyfriend Lovino about needing extra cash and "maybe I can work with you at your abuelo's restaurante," Lovino begrudgingly accepted. (Antonio didn't really need money, though it is nice. He just wanted to spend more time with his tomate. Not that Lovino is complaining . . . much.)

The inside of the get well card is the cover art of this story. The date has no real significance aside from that's around the time I got the cold and the day I first began writing this one-shot.

Schwachkopf is German for moron.

One of Alfred's favorite rock bands is Green Day, so it was only appropriate that Matthew use "American Idiot" as his brother's ringtone.

(P.S. I totally forgot to write in Ludwig's dogs, so let's just pretend he took them to a friend's place, Kiku Honda, while Gilbert is recovering. Ludwig knew his older brother was getting sick and tried to warn him the day before, but Gilbert refused to take medicine and went out with his friends anyways, so Ludwig looking ahead asked Kiku for a favor to dog-sit his three pets for a few days.)

A/N: If you have reached this far, thank you for reading. Reviews/Favs/Follows make me happy. If you'd like, you can follow me on Tumblr. Just check my Bio for the URL.

I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers, nor any of its characters. All rights go to Hidekazu Himaruya.