Story name: GiriPan Why Can't I Breathe

Warning: Fluffyness and clouds and rainbows. Oh, and gay personified countries. That, too.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Hetalia, or the song Why Can't I.

Japan's dark eyes stared at the sky, blinking slowly as he leaned against the wall outside of a grocery store, the two crinkled, brown bags full of goods placed on the ground beside him. One sandal-clad foot rested against the wall, tapping against it in steady rhythm, the other on the ground to keep his balance. His hand came up to brush against his bangs slightly, moving the ebony hair that tickled his face. His eyes moved down to the busy street, glancing back and forth, searching for the curly-brown head of the man he was waiting for. He sighed tiredly, glancing at the clock inside the store through the window. 4:30. He'd been waiting for forty-five minutes now. He rubbed a hand across his face worriedly, his mouth letting out another sigh. It wasn't that big of a deal, to be honest, he was almost always late. Well, unless the thing he was going to involved food, sleep or cats. The sandal against the wall continued its rhythmic tapping, proof of the small, dark-haired Asian's discomfort. He shifted and pulled at his robe for the thousandth time, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in an OCD manner (Which wasn't far from the truth). He checked himself in the window again, using the reflection of himself as a way to pass the time. He jumped a mile high when a calm, emerald-eyed face appeared next to him in the mirror.

"Hello, Nihon."

"A-Ah! K-Konichiwa, Greece-san." Japan recovered, turning around to face the tired face of the man who addressed him. The man's messy brown hair moved slightly in the breeze, accentuating the uncontrolled curls that framed his face. Greece tilted his head slightly in confusion of Japan's reaction to his sudden appearance, before he shrugged and offered his hand to the Asian.

"Shall we go, then, Nihon?" he asked kindly, a small, kind smile gracing his features.

Get a load of me, get a load of you.

Walking down the street, and I hardly know you.

It's just like we were meant to be.

Japan's face acquired a pink tinge when the hand was offered, darkening slightly when his own pale fingers entwined with Greece's tan ones. He made a grab for the groceries next to him, but Greece was faster, ducking down and grabbing both the bags in his free hand. He stood up straight again, glancing at Japan and smiling, before walking down the street, almost dragging the Asian behind him.

After a few moments, Japan fell into step with Greece, having to walk slightly faster than usual to keep up with Greece's longer strides. Greece didn't untangle their finders, keeping a firm grip on Japan's hand and ignoring his attempts to pull away. After a few minutes of tugging and pulling – to which Greece's only response was to hold on tighter – Japan gave up, surrendering his small hand to the larger one holding it. He stared at the ground in embarrassment, his face flushed red.

Holding hands with you

When we're out at night

Got a girlfriend, you

Say it isn't right

And I've got someone waiting, too

After walking for what seemed like a year to Japan, whose heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears, the pair arrived at Japan's house and Greece had to release his hand so he could open the door. Japan tried desperately to ignore how cold his hand felt without Greece's warm, tanned palm against his. Once inside, Greece went straight to the couch and fell asleep, almost before he hit the cushions. Japan smiled slightly before walking into the kitchen to deposit the groceries. He looked down in confusion at the single bag he held before remembering that Greece had taken one as well. He wandered back to the living room and knelt next to the couch, attempting to wrestle the handles out of Greece's hand. He let out a gasp as Greece's other arm came around, pulling Japan onto the couch and pressing the two nation's chests together. He could feel his heart practically having a seizure at this point, pumping insane amounts of blood to his face. He stared at Greece's sleeping face for a moment, stuttering in shock. His ability to speak had apparently ceased to exist. He could hardly breathe, and he didn't know if that was because of Greece's tight hold, or something else entirely.

His feelings for Greece were already so strong… But… What if this is just the beginning?

What if this is just the beginning?

We're already wet, and we're gonna go swimming

Why can't I breathe

Whenever I think about you

Why can't I speak

Whenever I talk about you

It's inevitable

It's likely that we're gonna get down to it

So tell me

Why can't I breathe

Whenever I think about you?