Book 3 - Retrievers

XX - Stress

*Doodle of the height difference I have just now realized through world-building. Enjoy!*

Russia blinks slowly and bites back a groan. His back aches and his arms and legs shake subtly. He tries to ignore the pounding headache and buries his head into the pillows to hide from the sunlight coming through the windows.

The air smells kind of stale, though Russia couldn't actually get much air to go through his nose anyway.

"Russ?" America asks.

Russia groans into the pillow.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't feel well," Russia mumbles, his voice falling under the ringing.

America hums, and Russia feels a hand brush his forehead.

"You have a fever," America comments.

Russia hums and turns away, shivering. He nuzzles his face into the blankets, ignoring the hot and cold rushes that wrack his body. He closes his eyes as America brushes his hair away.

'That feels nice.'

"You look pretty pale too," America comments, "are you cold?"

Russia offers a jerky nod, hugging his torso. His clothes are damp from sweat, but he still finds himself searching for extra warmth in the duvet.

"What's going on?" New York asks.

"Russia's sick," America replies bluntly, running his fingers through Russia's hair.

"Are we still going back to investigate?" New Jersey asks, "I thought we planned to do it today."

"We have to," Georgia says reluctantly, "we can't go home 'til we do."

"Yeah, and we can't be risking missing anything right now," Texas agrees.

"I wonder if we'll be able to find anything for Cali or Tuck to use," New Mexico ponders.

"I am going with you," Russia mumbles, trying to sit up.

As soon as he pushes himself upright, the world spins. He feels like he's floating and his vision doubles. His stomach churns, and his sense of balance disappears completely. Blood rushes through his ears and he sways violently to the side.

Suddenly, he stops moving. Confused, he looks down and sees America struggling to hold him upright, a worried look on his face.

"You are not going anywhere," Finland says, crossing her arms.

"But-" Russia tries.

"No," Georgia says, "you can't even sit up straight. You ain't getting outa that bed."

"I-"

"Russia, I'm not letting you in the car," Pennsylvania says, "I don't want you to die."

Russia shakes his head and gingerly pulls off of America. He shuffles to the side of the bed, trying to ignore how dizzy the motion makes him feel. As he tries to push himself onto his feet, he realizes that his arms are shaking too hard to support his weight, and his legs tremble violently underneath him. He sits back and hunches over, hugging his stomach.

"You're finna fall over and probably pass out if you try to get up," Georgia comments, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"But I have to help protect you," Russia argues, his voice too low for him to hear.

Georgia's face softens dramatically.

"You don't have to do that," Georgia says gently.

"But I-"