'ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

1

A/N:
"A new story?! What is this madness?!" I hear you cry.
"Guys," I reply, "chill out. I have a plan for this one."
*finger guns*

●•●•●

Arthur bit his lip and tapped his pen rhythmically on the edge of his desk, his tiring eyes staring at the notes in front of him. They wouldn't sink in. It didn't matter how many times he read over the page; the words just jumbled themselves up in his mind and spelt out pure gibberish. He glanced at the clock. 2am. That probably explained it.

With a sigh, he put the pen down and rose from his seat, flicking off the desk-lamp before he walked over to his bed. He'd been staying up late a lot more recently. The covers were flicked up as Arthur slid into the bed, and fell just as slowly and gracefully over him again. He regretted not trying to actually read the notes properly, but for the sake of his sanity, he knew it was for the best.

Within minutes, the Brit's eyelids had closed and the covers gently rose and sunk with each silent breath he took. The night was peaceful. For five hours, Arthur slept undisturbed by any noise from outside the windows of his room or noises from telephones and devices that had often gone off in the middle of the night. For that, he was grateful.

Arthur woke feeling slightly more refreshed just after 7am came around. Dragging himself downstairs, he decided to make a drink in order to properly wake up; he wasn't a morning person in the slightest, and even after so many centuries of living, was yet to adapt to waking up early.

The kettle angrily fidgeted on its rest as the water came to the boil inside it, hot steam rising up from its belly, the condensation coming to sit comfortably on the cupboard doors above. As he poured the water into the cup, Arthur let out a small sneeze, placing the kettle down when he felt another one coming on for fear of spilling boiling water all over himself.

"God, did the economy go to shit again overnight or something?" he complained to himself as he stifled the second sneeze. "I've got enough issues currently as it is . . ."

After eventually managing to make his morning tea with no more than three sneezes to his name, Arthur ventured into the living room, where he was greeted by his cat. The feline immediately jumped onto the sofa next to its owner, before seeking permission to sit on his lap. Arthur obliged. He was glad his cat actually had some form of manners—it was more than could be said for some of the people he was acquainted with.

The pair sat like that for about five minutes, one being happily stroked and loved, the other giving their undivided attention to the first. During that time, another two sneezes had escaped into the air. Biscuit—Arthur's feline friend—had soon grown bored and decided to leave his owner to it, disappearing to who knew where, not to be seen again until lunchtime, Arthur figured.

As he took another sip of his cooling beverage, the phone began to ring in the hallway. Sighing, Arthur placed his cup down and seemingly took his time to get to the receiver, making guesses as to who it may have been. It was only 7:30am. He picked up the old phone, instinctively fiddling with the coiled cable, and did his best to hold back yet another sneeze.

"Hello?" he said.

Surprisingly, a German voice answered. "Hallo, England. I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"No, not at all. I was already awake," Arthur responded, now trying to guess why Ludwig had decided to call him at such an hour while simultaneously trying so hard not to sneeze. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure. I just wanted to ask you how you're feeling."

"Uh, dare I ask why?"

"Routine," Ludwig answered earnestly. "There have been several reports of European countries feeling ill over the last two days. I thought I'd check up on those whom I've heard nothing from."

"Ill? In what way?"

"Colds, generally. So far, I've had six confirmed cases of countries who have been feeling under the weather, as they put it."

"What's so odd about that?" Arthur frowned slightly. "It's not like there's some sort of disease sweeping across the continent, right? It's all probably unrelated."

Ludwig hummed. "But are you feeling alright? No coughing, no sneezing, no headaches?"

Arthur wasn't sure what to say. He still had no real understanding of what was going on, and was struggling not to laugh at the ludicrousness of Germany's reaction and no doubt that of others. In the end, he told the German that he was feeling perfectly fine, and the two ended the call on that basis. Biscuit darted through the hallway, almost tripping Arthur up as he walked back to the living room, another sneeze sounding.

"There was probably just some cock-up at the World Bank. Wouldn't be the first time," Arthur sighed as he came to sit down on the sofa once more.

He thought of the notes that were still on his desk upstairs and how he probably should have returned to them to revise them. But he couldn't. With another sneeze and a grumble, he turned on the television and began to watch the more localised news. On BBC Points West, the presenter rattled on about the weather alongside other things, and how surprisingly warm it was going to be over the next week.

'Oh, joy . . . I wonder who got stuck with my rain . . .' he mused.

And it all continued for another half and hour or so--Arthur watched the news while ignoring his work that called his name from upstairs, Biscuit wandered in and out of the room, the sun started to shine brighter through the large glass window panes, and several more sneezes sounded.

Then someone knocked on the front door.