Author's Note: Here's a little something for PrussiaxFritz Day. This also counts as a gift for my good friend ChibiStarr, who requested a story about Prussia taking care of a sick Fritz. If you love PrussiaxFritz, you HAVE to check out her work.

Lovesick

Many sicknesses don't discriminate. They never have and they never will. Still, when Prussia woke up that one winter morning to the news that his beloved Crown Prince Frederick was sick, he nearly went berserk. He jumped out of bed, clad in nothing but his underwear and terrifying the maids who happened to be nearby, and ran down the palace hallway towards the young man's room. He slammed the door open upon arrival, causing the Crown Prince to jump up in bed, only to crash back down into his pillow as a bout of dizziness hit him.

"Mmmm...must you?" he groaned quietly, his voice soft and strained. He sounded absolutely pathetic. His throat was obviously sore...no, it was beyond sore. Prussia could see a small line of saliva dripping from his mouth, m."eaning that his throat hurt enough that he was unable to swallow without causing himself great pain. It also seemed like he was having a hard time breathing, as he was panting quietly, his breaths shallow. He coughed dryly and buries his face into his pillow. "Sleep..."

Prussia frowned. "You're not allowed to be sick, Fritz," he said stubbornly. "Being sick isn't awesome. How the hell did you get sick anyway? You're the Crown Prince!" He crossed his arms and ignored a maid's request to put some real clothes on.

Fritz just groaned again, snuggling deeper under the bedcovers, hoping he would be able to get comfortable soon. The only thing he wanted to do was sleep.

Luckily, the palace doctor answered for him. "Being the Crown Prince doesn't mean he's immune to a cold," he sighed. "Don't worry, he'll be fine as long as he gets a lot of rest. Take good care of him." He smiled warmly and packed up his things. "Excuse me." With that, he left the room, commenting that Prussia should really put on some real clothes.

Prussia snorted. "I bet it was some unawesome commoner who made him sick."

"Stop iiiiiiiiiiiit," Fritz uncharacteristically whined, pulling the pillow over his head, burying his face into the mattress. He coughed a few more times and wiggled his way towards the edge of his bed so he could look at Prussia. "Sleep. Wanna sleep..."

Prussia sighed and dropped his arms. His heart broke at just how miserable his Crown Prince looked. In addition to his sore throat and breathing problems, he also appeared to have a fever, as his cheeks and forehead were flushed pink. Prussia wondered if he had slept at all during the night, because he looked like an insomniac with the dark circles under his puffy, half-lidded eyes. His eyes themselves were glossy, full of unshed tears of frustration. Prussia frowned sadly. He hated seeing Fritz like this. Hell, he hated seeing him look anything less than blissfully happy and awesome. The Crown Prince was only in his late teens; he was far too young to be so dead-looking.

But the Prussian was not too upset to smile reassuringly. "Don't worry, kid," he laughed. "You'll be back to your awesome self in no time. I'll be taking care of you!"

Fritz visibly jumped. "For the love of Voltaire, NO." The sudden words made him cough a few more times.

Prussia was about to speak again when he heard a sniffle behind him. He turned and came face-to-face with Queen Sophia Dorothea, whose face was wet with tears. "My darling son," she whispered. "Is he okay?"

Prussia smiled softly, gently. It was a rare smile for him, and it comforted the Queen a bit. "The doctor said it's just a cold. He'll be fine, don't worry, Your Majesty."

The Queen found it in herself to smile. "Thank the Lord."

Prussia's smile quickly disappeared when the King appeared behind his wife. The albino's expression went stoical, bracing for the attack. Verbal? Physical? Frederick William was known to abuse both ways. But, to his surprise, the King did not lash out at his nation, nor did he push him aside to lash out at his son, both being prime targets for his rage. No, instead, the King shook his head disapprovingly and walked by.

"Leave him. He's better off that way."

Sophia grasped Prussia's hand as her husband left the hallway, mentally begging her nation not to attack her husband. She glanced at the albino and squeezed his hand, hoping it would calm his rage. No luck. Prussia looked like he was ready to attack Austria, except his excited grin was replaced with a hateful sneer. He yanked his hand away from the Queen and reentered Fritz's room. The teenager was still buried underneath his many blankets, and he had put the pillow back over his head. Prussia could hear sniffles and whimpers coming from underneath it.

"It's alright," the nation murmured, sneaking his hand under the pillow and resting it against the Crown Prince's neck. It was hot and sweaty, but the teenager was still shivering. Prussia sighed and leaned against the mattress. "I'll take care of you. You'll be better in no time."

Even though Fritz's head was under the pillow, Prussia could still see him nod.

The next day, Fritz was no better. He hadn't slept at all during the night, despite the fact that he was exhausted. His throat was still sore, aching so badly it felt like a razor blade was cutting into it. His fever had persisted, still flushing his face pink. His eyes were still glossy and had lost their usual sparkle. On top of that, his sinuses had become congested, so he was having an even harder time breathing. Servants brought him breakfast, but he refused it, having no appetite whatsoever. Plus, with his throat still hurting so badly, he didn't want to swallow anything either. He even refused the water he had to drink.

None of that sat well with Prussia. The nation, once again, leaned against the Crown Prince's bed and gazed down at him sadly. He pushed his tangled, thin hair away from his face and rested his hand against his cheek. Hot. Blazing hot. Prussia almost pulled his hand away but kept it there, as it was cool against Fritz's fevered skin. He could see a shiver run down the teenager's spine as he looked up at him.

"Am I..." he gasped, "...dying?"

Prussia shook his head gently. "No, you're not. You'll get better."

Fritz sniffled and tired to bury his head further into the pillow. "I...wish I was..."

"Uh-uh," the albino quickly said back, "no talking like that. Not awesome. You're gonna get better whether you like it or not. I need a King, and it's gonna be you one day." He brushed his cool fingers against Fritz's temple in an attempt to calm him down, but he could see that the Crown Prince was beginning to cry. Tears of frustration and sadness fell down his cheeks and disappeared into the mattress. Prussia felt his heart crack and break in his chest.

"Nothing to live for," the Crown Prince whispered, his voice hindered by both his sickness and his tears. "Katte's dead...marrying that stupid woman..." He paused to choke on a sob. "Father...wants me dead." His eyes turned up to Prussia, silently begging him to end his misery. "Better off dead..."

Prussia shook his head. "You don't know what the hell you're saying," he muttered. "Be quiet and get better already. This is getting depressing." He moved his hand away from the Crown Prince's face and down to his back. "I'm moving the blankets, don't freak." He did so and then rubbed Fritz's back, gently running his hand up and down the expanse. He kept his eyes on Fritz's face, looking for a reaction.

Luckily, it was actually quite positive. "Mmmm..." Fritz moaned, finally seeming to get comfortable. "Don't stop..." All of a sudden, he felt like he could fall asleep and actually stay asleep. He let out more quiet moans and shivered, still panting his shallow breaths.

There was no way in hell Prussia was stopping, not when he got that reaction.

Fritz didn't know what he was doing to his nation. Prussia's breath was also starting to come out in short pants, and his face was bright pink...for entirely different reasons. The Crown Prince just looked too damn gorgeous all of a sudden, with his flushed face, half-lidded eyes, shivering skin, and quiet voice. And those syrupy sweet moans were so accidentally erotic that Prussia was sure they were illegal. Yeah, one of his past kings must have outlawed sounding that sexy.

Fritz's voice snapped him out of his trance. "You feel...so good..."

It took every ounce of Prussia's self-control not to pounce on the kid right then and there.

Instead, his free hand took Fritz's and squeezed it comfortingly. "I just want you to feel better," he confessed. "I hate seeing you like this. I hate knowing you don't feel awesome." He leaned close to the Crown Prince's ear and whispered, "Frederick William is the one who should die. You are so much better, so much more awesome than he is. He is no King to me. You are a King." He smiled when Fritz squeezed his hand back.

The sweet moment was interrupted by a light knock on the door. Prussia turned towards it. "Yes?"

"I brought His Royal Highness a cup of hot tea," came the timid voice of a servant girl. "I thought it might help his throat..."

"Enter."

The young servant girl slowly opened the door and curtsied before entering the bedchambers. She set a silver tray with the steaming cup of tea on the nearest table in the room. She curtsied again. "I hope His Royal Highness feels better soon." And she respectfully left, closing the door softly.

Prussia smiled. She was a good girl. He looked back at Fritz, who had opened his eyes slightly, roused from his near-sleep. He looked up at Prussia, but his eyes soon travelled to the tea, and he licked his dry lips. All of a sudden, hot tea sounded good to him. "Please..."

Prussia nodded. "Stay still, I got it." He stood and walked to the table, picking up the tray and bring it back to the Crown Prince, who had sat up somewhat in bed. Prussia knelt before him and offered him the tea cup in one hand as he wrapped the other one around the teenager's shoulders. Fritz took the cup in his hands and slowly brought it to his lips, sipping the hot liquid down daintily. The heat was soothing against his aching throat, numbing some of the pain away. For the first time in twenty-four hours, he was starting to feel okay. Or at least like he had the chance to feel okay.

As soon as the tea was gone, Prussia took the cup from his Crown Prince and set it back down on the tray, bringing it over to the table for the servant girl to retrieve at a later time. When he turned back to Fritz, the teenager was already lying back down in bed, snuggled underneath his thick blankets and buried between soft, fluffy pillows. Prussia smiled and crouched down next to him, twirling a lock of his long, silky hair absentmindedly. "Do you feel like you can sleep?" The nod he received made his smile widen. "Okay then," he continued, resting his head on the mattress next to his Crown Prince, "sleep well."

He, too, quickly fell asleep, kneeling there next to Fritz. Worrying was unawesome and used up way too much energy.

Fritz woke up hours later. He blinked his eyes open and yawned when he suddenly realized that the intensity of his sore throat had decreased. It still ached, yes, but it definitely was feeling better. In fact, he was feeling better overall. He made a mental note to personally thank that servant girl who had brought him tea. He wasn't particularly fond of women in general, but that girl was good. He liked her.

His eyes glanced at Prussia, who was sleeping like a log next to him, their hands clutched together possessively. Fritz felt his cheeks heat up but not because his fever was getting worse. He had never seen Prussia asleep before, and he couldn't believe he had missed it. His nation was beautiful. His albino skin seemed to glow, and his shining, silver hair fell gracefully over his face. Prussia looked so unlike himself. Normally, he was brash, careless, and overly obnoxious. To see him looking so peaceful and elegant was a rare treat indeed.

Fritz closed his eyes again and squeezed Prussia's hand lightly. Yes, he felt awful, but, if he could see and experience Prussia like this, he didn't mind being sick so much.

Somewhere in the back of his mind right before he fell back asleep, he sort of wished that he wouldn't get better any time soon.

END

Author's Note: ASDFGHJKL SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. :D

So this was meant to take place while Fritz was in his late teens. Katte was executed when Fritz was eighteen, so I think he'd probably be nineteen or maybe twenty in this fic. Historical evidence says that he often considered suicide during this part of his life. In addition to losing Katte, he was being forced to marry his wife, whom he detested. Plus, he was still living under Frederick William's rule at the time. He wouldn't become King until he was twenty-eight (in 1740), which was when his father died.

I included some angst just because ChibiStarr confessed that it's her guilty pleasure when it comes to this pairing. XD I hope you like it, dear. Happy PrussiaxFritz Day!