Iggy's Love

All right, so I took a break from writing my other fanfic to write this. I needed to write something fluffy. " So, yeah, I'll shut up now and you can all read this...Hope you enjoy~!

England was speeding down the road in his car. Normally, the British gentleman wasn't a speeder, but this was sort of an emergency.

America called him this morning, asking him to come over. He said that he woke up feeling sick and needed someone to be with him. Being sick was the one thing the moron never joked about.

England arrived at America's house, parking in the driveway behind America's motorcycle (the git bought it because he thought that it made him look cool and heroic). He turned off the car, walked up the front steps, and knocked on the door. He waited a minute before kneeling down and taking the spare key hidden under the welcome mat. Unlocking the door, he let himself in and closed the door behind him. "Alfred?" he called.

There was a cough from the other room. "Iggy?" America croaked. "That you?"

"Yes, it's me, dear," England replied, taking off his boots and leaving them by the door. He made his way into the TV room where the American was sitting on the leather couch, watching TV. He frowned at the sight of his former little brother. His blond hair was unkempt, his nose and eyes were slightly red, and his face was paler than usual. "How do you feel?"

America looked up at England with watery blue eyes. He sniffed and managed a tired grin. "What do you think?" he asked with a hoarse voice.

"Sorry," he chuckled, smiling a little. He knew America hated being sick, it made him feel weak. Being weak was not for a hero.

"I feel awful," America groaned, coughing.

England sighed and went over to sit next to the other nation. "You look dreadful," he said, placing his hand on America's forehead to feel if he had a fever. He frowned a little. "You feel a little warm, love. You might have a small fever. I think it's just a cold though."

"No!" America whined pathetically. "I dun wanna be sick..."

The Englishman sighed again and closed his eyes. "I know," he muttered. He opened his eyes a little and glanced at America. He's just like he was as a child when he got sick...he thought, remembering when he was younger.

"Alfred, dear! Come get your breakfast!" England called from the kitchen. He was standing in front of the stove, cooking eggs for his younger brother. He smiled to himself as he heard the sound of America's little footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Iggy..." came a small little whimper from behind him.

"Yes, love, what is it?" England asked, turning to face the little six year old American.

"I...I feel yucky," America sniffed. He had his white blanket decorated with blue rabbits wrapped around his little body and over his head like a hood. "I think I'm sick."

The older nation frowned and turned off the stove, going over to the young child and kneeling down. He placed his hand on America's forehead. "Hm, you do feel a little warm, dear. I think you may have a cold."

America's lower lip began to tremble and his big blue eyes filled with tears. "I dun wanna be sick, Iggy," he sniffled. A few tears rolled down his rosy cheeks.

"Oh no, love, don't cry, please," England said, scooping up the little blond into his arms and holding him close. He began to rock him gently. "It's nothing to get upset over."

"B-but I dun like it..." America whined. "I feel icky and everything hurts. My head, my throat, my nose, and my tummy. They all hurt, Iggy." He looked up at his older brother/father figure, a few more tears running down his face. Those big blue eyes were enough to melt England's heart. "Can you fix it?"

England sighed and carried America to the couch, sitting down and placing the young boy in his lap, the blanket slipping off his head. He smiled down at him. "I know the perfect cure for a cold. Some sleep, soup, and Iggy love. How does that sound?" he asked, wiping away America's tears.

America blinked up at England. "Is Iggy's love magic?" he asked.

"Yes," he chuckled, letting America crawl off his lap and curl up next to him, resting his head on England's lap. He leaned down to plant a kiss on America's forehead and began to stroke his blond hair gently. "Iggy's love is magic. Now rest, love..."

America coughed and sniffed a few more times. "Ugh," he groaned. "I hate being sick."

"Yes, I know, dear," England replied. "How about I make you some soup?"

America nodded. "Mmkay, but later though? I'm not hungry for anything right now."

"All right, then."

There was a little pause before America asked something. "Iggy? Why did you come?"

England blinked. "What do you mean? You asked me to come."

"I know, but...I wasn't expecting you to," the American mumbled. "You know...with everything that happened with the Revolution? I thought you stopped caring about me..."

The Englishman frowned and looked at the American, his green eyes staring into blue ones. "Don't be silly, Alfred," he replied softly. "I still care about you very much. Why would you ever think that?"

"I...I dunno," America sighed. He looked at England and smiled a little. "You know what would make me feel better right now?"

"What is it, love?"

The younger nation grinned and curled up next to England, resting his head in his father figure's lap. "Can I have some of Iggy's love?"

England chuckled and smiled at him. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on America's forehead. "Of course. You can have as much Iggy love as you want."

Meh, fluffy. I don't think it's my best work, but I needed to get that out of my system. ^^" I'll go back to writing Adventures In Gender-Bending! now. " Read and review, please, if you want! ^^"