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“Ugggh… You feeli’g as crappy as I ab?” he asked in a horribly congested voice.
“Probably,” Arthur replied, his voice sounding similarly nasal. “Bloody hell, I thigk by head’s goi’g to split oped.”
Alfred’s large hand came up to push back his bangs and warm lips pressed against his forehead, checking his temperature. “You’ve got a hell of a fever.”
Arthur disentangled his hand from his blanket and touched Alfred’s forehead. “So have you.”
“I dod’t wadda get up,” Alfred groaned.
“Well, we cad’t very well call id sick, cad we?” Arthur pointed out unhappily. “Dot with all that work for the culture festival still waiti’g for us.”
The two of them sneezed at the same time and moaned in unison.
“We cad leave it to Ludwig and Kiku for ode day, cad’t we?” Alfred begged. “I’b sure they cad haddle it. I dod’t dow about you, but by braid’s fried; we’d probably just screw it up adyway.”
Alfred had a point there. Arthur’s wandering fingers managed to locate his cell phone on the floor beside the couch and he picked it up, intending to call them in sick.
“People will probably be suspicious with the two of us out sick od the sabe day,” he mumbled, his already fever-flushed cheeks reddening further at the thought. “That wido-bastard’s beed spreadi’g dasty rubors about us for bodths.”
“Fuck it,” Alfred said. “I’b feeli’g too shitty a’d too id love with you to care.”
Arthur snorted, but couldn’t help cracking another small smile as he began to dial the school attendance office.
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