[A/N] Well, here we have it. The first result of our Giripan request drive! Written IN GREECE! How cool is that?
Submitted by Cead, who writes the best Merlin fanfiction on this whole site.
Hobbsie is away, so this chapter has been written and checked solely by Natsumi. :'( We'll update the chapter content as soon as she returns and edits it, but Natsumi had a deadline to publish this to. Apologies for any mistakes/typos.
We don't own Hetalia. If we did, Prussia would have already ravished everyone senseless and America and France would be duelling over England. It would at least be a much higher rating than it is now ;)
The sea here stretched for miles. Even as an island country well acquainted with coastal views, this one in particular never ceased to steal away Japan's breath. If he turned his eyes away from the open expanse of waves, his eyes fell upon the beautiful contrast of bright branches of pink bougainvillea stroking the walls of the whitewashed villa, with the serene brown hills and mountains fading into the sea mist as a backdrop. He could sit here forever; half-listening to the cicadas, feeling the breeze ruffling his hair and swaying through the trees like far-away waves. The villa perched on a hillside covered in terracotta roofs and olive groves, right at the top with the wind in its shutters and the water that failed to work so often.
Apart from his own home, no other place, no other country in the world cold compare with this. It was one of the rare places he could truly relax in. He smiled, recalling Greece's own description of his holiday villa: "Forget Mount Olympus; the gods should have lived on that hill." In a way, he was right, but Japan was glad that he and his lover could have the place to themselves.
"Beautiful view."
Surprised, Japan glanced down at the man suddenly by his side. Greece had clearly only just woken up, and his hair resembled the feathers of a young bird, sticking out in all directions and quivering in the breathy wind. Secretly, the thought that this post-siesta sight was far more beautiful than the landscape before him crossed his mind, but he hid it for fear of seeming silly.
"I see you are awake – you were sleeping quite deeply, so I didn't wake you. Also, I must agree with you about the view. This place is truly special. If you wish, I can show you how to take a photo-"
Japan's offer was cut short by a smug smile from Greece, who was looking up at the shorter nation from his relaxed leaning position on the rails, his head pillowed by his arms. "Why are you smiling like that?" he asked cautiously, but Greece's lazy smile only widened.
"You misunderstood."
He seemed to (rightly) take Japan's bewildered expression as an invitation for further explanation. Taking his time as usual, he took a breath before continuing. "I was talking about the view of you… smiling so happily and… comfortably in my favourite place. You outshine the view, but Kiku, I believe you really… suit this place. You look at peace here… really pretty."
A rose-coloured blush dusted Japan's cheeks, as he found himself unable to reply. Greece was very much a man of few words (he couldn't really swear he had ever heard the man say more than eleven words without taking a long, deep breath or pausing), and that kind of thing- how could Greece say such things so easily? It was so charming, so sweet, but he himself could never be so bold. Greece must think him so cold, but really, Japan tripped and stumbled over words like that- words with such important meanings. It was too embarrassing.
Looking away from the eyes that could so easily disrupt his calm, his own alighted once more on the view of the sea. It brought back memories, so many memories of how they had first really met. They had seen each other at world meetings, obviously, but their first personal contact was far more dramatic, and soon led to the feelings he was experiencing now and everyday.
"Greece- Herakles, do you remember how we first met?"
As usual, his lover knew exactly the 'meeting' he was referring to – that of their true selves, rather than their countries and politics. Greece laughed slightly as he replied.
"You were on holiday here back then, too."
"Yes, and you were so…dishevelled!"
...
The blue water turned black, the sky shook and the waves began to tremble and roll along with the heavens. Greece, being one not known to scare easily (really, he could care less as long as he got a siesta), did not react immediately to the warning signs of the approaching storm. This was a mistake. Even his ever-present feline companions were losing their nerves. It's a known fact: cats despise water. So, (cats + rusty old fishing trawler + rough sea) was not a sum that boded well. The chorus of whimpers from the corners where the cats hid was turning quickly into a cacophony of wails of distress as the ship's rocking became more pronounced. It rattled Greece's eardrums, but he did not move. He sat on his boat and fished, even though his line was long gone, torn away by the churning sea. Unmoving, he stayed there, oblivious to the chaos around him.
And then, the ship overturned.
He was tossed into the steely waves. Plunged far into the black waves, he was trapped in a silent prison of foam and wreckage and bubbles under the water. He watched helplessly as his boat was ripped to pieces, scattered in the deep. However, he remained calm, and eventually made his way to the surface in a lazy fashion. Pretty much all Grecians are capable swimmers, most being raised near the sea or spending their summers at the coast. He would have happily floated there among the thunderous waves, if he hadn't heard that faint, heart-breaking noise.
Somewhere near him, a cat was crying in pain and distress.
His features contorted, and he flew into action (here we note that that was the first time the nation had moved with even a hint of urgency since he got into the whole predicament). Swiftly, he sped towards the sound, with the determination and speed of a true Olympic gold medallist. He caught the afflicted cat, almost pausing to cradle it before he remembered the others. Desperately, he searched in the storm for all of his dearest friends, until all were gathered and safe from the deadly water in a tiny raft he had constructed from the debris floating around them. Despite his strength as a nation, however, it was too much for him. With a small sigh of relief and a muttered prayer of thanks, he sank into a nap, still floating on top of the stormy waves effortlessly.
...
"Oooh, look, look, LOOK, Japan! I found the most gorgeousamazinglycuteawesome little seashell over here! And guess what it looks like!"
Japan barely suppressed a small sigh of annoyance. It was the fifteenth 'superdupercool' or 'awesome' shell Italy had found in the past hour alone. Every time, he was forced to guess what it resembled. Thankfully, the game was easy; Italy somehow managed to liken everything to either Germany or pasta. Despite its simplicity, the game was no less irritating. Calm, Kiku. Compose yourself. Anyway. The last one has been Germany, so…
"Is it maybe [pause as if thinking hard] a piece of pasta?"
A rare thing followed his statement – the Italian fell silent. Lower lip stuck fully out, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows furrowed – he looked exactly like a sulking child.
"You're too good at this game, Japan! It's no fun if you guess it right away! Please stop doing it or- or- or I'll tell Germany when we get home! I will!"
Japan disguised a grin, imagining Germany's reaction to such a complaint. He apologised deeply to Italy, promising not to do it again. But this time, he suggested, maybe Italy should search behind those rocks on the far, far away side of the beach? After the storm last night, there would surely be something interesting washed up there.
At least it'll take him a good ten minutes to get there and back, he thought. Yes, it was impolite, but even Japan's nerves of steel were being steadily worn down by the hurricane of energy known as Italy.
As the brunette skipped away, Japan went back to his sitting position, observing the environment around him. Greece's land was lovely, and a Mediterranean beach as tranquil as this was not difficult to find on his coast. It was strange, however, that despite them holidaying in his land, Greece himself had not yet come to join them. Japan's understanding was that Italy had been the one to politely ask for a small holiday for two, and Greece had quickly consented. He had probably been subjected to those incredible puppy eyes. Not even Germany could resist him when faced with that look. Germany tried to avoid the eyes by doing things that would disappoint Italy remotely, usually by phone, but when he was next in the Italian's presence he would inevitably be treated with an adorable attempt at the cold shoulder. This time, Japan had been confronted at the last minute with the task of taking Germany's place on the trip to console Italy. Some disaster had happened involving Prussia and a possible economy collapse due to Prussia discovering eBay and his brother's credit card. So, to avoid the wrath of Italy (uke tears and sulking taken to extremes), Japan had been sent in as a sort of 'consolation prize'.
Yes, there had been sulking and it did come close to tears, but with the swift presentation of a bowl of spaghetti in a seaside restaurant, Italy had been calmed and now seemed to be enjoying the holiday thoroughly. And, thought it might not have been clear from his demeanour, Japan himself was also quite glad of it. It was not often that he came to Europe for something other than work. He welcomed the opportunity to experience such a beautiful country, but… well, so far he had not experienced much except beaches and restaurants. He did long, just a bit, to go taste some of the history of the famous nation, but Italy did not appear to share such feelings. "Japan, I've already seen them all, and I'd much prefer to taste some of this great moussaka than history. Maybe another day, ve~?"
Sighing, Japan chose to stop thinking about it. Italy had accepted him as a last-minute guest and companion, so he should be more grateful. Best to appreciate that which is currently before me.
But before he could appreciate anything, a thump sounded from the other side of the beach, combined with the furious yelp of a squashed cat.
Oh, dear… poor Italy must have tripped over one of the many cats hiding in the Greek landscape. He began to stand up to see if the cat was alright, only to hear a scream rip through the calm air from the fallen Italian, shearing the empty beach's serene aura in two.
[A/N]Yeah, it's short, I'm sorry.
Chapter Two shall be released once Natsumi returns from Ireland, Hobbsie returns from Narnia and we both get our asses into gear to write it. And edit this one. Tee hee... -_-;;
We're still collecting your requests (HUGE LOVE to all those that sent them in already, you guys are awesome) so please send us all your ideas, stupid or silly or downright weird. We'll take them all, and produce something beautiful. We hope.
Requests can be submitted by review or by private message if you're shy.
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