A Nerd and A Football Player

"Could you stop being such a pain, American?"

Hey there everyone! I'm so so so sorry for the wait...school and all that jazz completely took up my time for a while but I promise I haven't abandoned this story! Have faith! Anyways heres a new chapter to this story and I'm pretty proud of this one. Lots of fluff, wink wink. As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated, and thank you so much for your reads and votes!

He wasn't there.

Alfred wasn't there.

Ivan looked down at his phone, preparing to grin at some little message from the self-appointed hero saying he was late again, or maybe he just needed a mental health day which he took often.

But there wasn't one. No dumb excuse for not being in school, not even a text. Instinctively the Russian thought the worst. Maybe Alfred had been kidnapped or killed or drunk or scared alone somewhere. Though, even if he was, Ivan had no idea where to even begin to look for him.

He got through the rest of class thankfully. When Alfred was next to him, he had no reason for worrying or panicking, which only made his reaction worse when he wasn't there.

He looked down at his phone again, unlocking and pulling up the messages between him and the American. Of course, being the perfect student he was, Ivan looked up to make sure the professor wasn't speaking and began pushing the keys on the screen.

"Hey man, what's going on? Why aren't you here disturbing the silence and peace in the room?" Ivan texted, laughing at his own message. However, he didn't receive anything. Even if his phone had gone off, announcing to everyone that he'd had his phone on in class, he wouldn't mind. And he wouldn't even mind it if Alfred texted something like, "Sorry, decided to skip today. Wanna hang out later?" But he now had to sit there questioning and thinking of all the things that could have happened.

There was a known, and an unknown. And right now, he just wanted to be able to understand where Alfred was. He might not even have freaked out as much if he had received some kind of warning.

If he was willing to waste fifteen minutes, he could run over to the American's dorm and see if he was there. Of course, he'd never been to Alfred's dorm, with an invitation at least. But he didn't care if the American thought of him as a creep since Ivan was just about to "casually drop by."

Ivan grabbed his books, and the bag he always carried and hurried out the door. Thankfully Alfred's dorm wasn't too far, and he was able to make it there quickly.

As he entered the large building, he heard a drum. No, no it was different. It sounded like it was coming from him, as if he was creating that everlasting drumming. He was oh-so-lucky to find that he was. His heart raced and he had no idea why. The Russian had sat next to Alfred, hung out with him outside of school, so why in the world was he getting nervous over simply going to his dorm?

Thats right..he didn't receive an invitation to go. Alfred had no idea he was even on his way, let alone going straight to his room. What if the door was closed? What if Alfred wasn't there? What if now was like actually the worst time to be there?

Ivan didn't get much time to decide before he found himself standing in front of Alfred's door. He sucked in a shallow breath and knocked.

Nothing.

Ivan knocked a little more.

Still nothing.

He questioned himself wondering, would he really walk into the American's dorm. Without his permission no less? Of course his only answer to that was definitely. The silvery-blond haired boy gripped the handle loosely, and turned it quietly in case maybe Alfred was sleeping.

That's the one thing he hadn't taken into consideration. What if Alfred had just slept in? Oh well, no sense turning back now.

Ivan stuck his head in through the door looking around the room, almost scanning it for signs of American. Yet, the one thing that forced him to barge in was ridiculous coughing.

Like, this was so bad Ivan had to pause and make sure someone wasn't actually suffocating. Panicking he stepped into the small room and upon finding the bathroom door, or at least what he thought was the bathroom door, and knocked slightly. He heard a jump and a weak and exhausted, "Just a minute!"

"Alfred? Are you in there?" Ivan knocked again instinctively, his face full of worry.

"I'm fine I just, it's just a stomach bug or something. I'm okay really." The American attempted yelling through the door. It was barely audible since he sounded like he hand his hand over his mouth.

"I'm going to come in, is that alright?" The Russian suggested, waiting for an answer. He knew deep down inside that whatever the American's answer was, he would most certainly come in anyways. After there was no reply, Ivan decided to go with his gut feeling and intrude the small bathroom.

There, lying on the floor, was a sick and very weak looking Alfred. He was clutching his stomach tightly, like if he let go his body would just fall apart. Ivan believed it as well.

"Ivan," The blond coughed, leaning back over and preparing to grow sick again. "You don't have to stay. I don't want you to accidentally catch whatever this is." The American attempted a smile but with the other hand quickly covered his mouth.

"It's okay." He cooed softly, rubbing the boy's sweat covered back with his hand. "I'm not going to leave you as sick as you are." He got a towel from the cabinet and carefully dried the American's face of sweat and what he thought could quite possibly be tears. "Can I get you anything?" The Russian asked quietly not wanting to overwhelm him.

Alfred simply shook his head. Yet they stayed like this for quite some time... the American getting sick and Ivan just being there to hold his hand or place his hand on his back.

Neither Alfred nor Ivan realized they were just subconsciously looking for someone to be with at the moment.

After it had seemed that Alfred's sickness had been somewhat taken care of, the Russian helped walk him back to the at least semi-comfort of his bed. He sighed however, upon feeling the intense heat radiating off of the blond boy.

"Could you stop being such a pain, American?" Ivan whispered before chuckling, when he was 100% sure the boy was asleep.

He wasn't about to leave however, as Alfred could wake up at any time, alone and sick. So of course Ivan ever so creepily allowed himself to crash on America's couch. He crossed his legs, resting them upon the arm rest while he stared blankly into the room. There was another bed though, that he hadn't necessarily taken time to think about since there had been much more pressing matters at hand.

Of course, it must be Alfred's roommate.

The Russian's eyes felt heavy as he stared up at the ceiling, his sparkling violet eyes that seemed to hold the Russian winter dulled with tiredness. His hand rested gently on his chest and he could hear the ticking of a small clock slowly lulling him to sleep. He wouldn't say he was uncomfortable, lying on his obsession's couch while he fought away a fever...But something did seem odd about this whole situation. Nevertheless, Ivan was happy. The sound of the clock, Alfred's soft breathing, the rising and falling of the blond boy's chest as he slept, the white shirt sticking to his body due to sweat, but spreading apart with every breath he took. All of these things contented Ivan and finally he felt himself drift to sleep.