Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

A/N: Something different. For the New Year.

Dumb Love

The most dangerous girls in the world are those who act the way they truly feel deep down.

It should have been no surprise who was on the other end of the line when Japan answered the phone that day.

"Like, Japan, now that we're going out, you should totally buy me gifts and stuff. I just got this mega-cute skirt and I need shoes to match it."

"P-poland? I am sorry. I think I may have misunderstood you. Did you just say-"

"Like we're going out so buy me stuff, 'kay?"

"We are going out? As in having romantic affairs?"

"'Course. That time after the World Conference when everyone was at the bar, you were wearing that super-cute sailor outfit and I wanted it so I tricked you into going into the bathroom with me and then I stripped you and then we made out and did it because we were pretty wasted. Remember?"

"We did that sort of thing? In a public place?"

"Don't you remember? Like, it's totally going to piss me off if you don't."

"Although... I... I don't remember, I am more in favor of keeping that sort of thing casual between participants."

"Casual! You wouldn't have banged me so passionately if it were just casual."

"I am sorry for the misunderstanding."

"No. You are going to be my BF whether you like it or not. Besides, I like totally told everyone that we were going out."

"..."

"You still there? Oh. Right. I'm coming over to visit you tomorrow. So, like, I dunno. Get ready for me or something."

It really wasn't a surprise. He remembered of course, not every detail, but he remembered the peer pressure from America, especially in putting away those bottles and then showing Hungary his newest sailor outfit, which she demanded he wear, walking back to the bar, a blank space in his memory, talking to Poland, more blank spaces and then the look of his skirt on Poland's legs and ache of his head the morning after.

No reason to question the other nation's intentions there. But it still horrified him. Poland of all people. Why that person? And more importantly, why Japan?

He needed to study the situation and come to a coherent conclusion.

"Hello? Is this Japan?"

"Yes. Hello, Italy."

"Ve! I'm so glad you called. How are things with Poland?"

"You know?"

"Everyone does! I'm so happy for the both of you."

"Um. Yes. Well... the reason I called was because I... well, you are such a good friend of Poland's and I..."

"Oh. I get it Japan. You want to know how to make Poland happy."

"I think... maybe."

"Well the first thing is Poland likes the color pink, and girl clothes and ponies. So maybe give Poland a pink shirt with a pony on it."

"I was thinking more along the lines of how I should treat Poland."

"What do you mean?"

Japan felt he was making himself perfectly clear. How does one treat a person whose demeanor they cannot quite comprehend?

"Is he the type of person I should praise?"

"Umm... I think he'd just be happy if you said nice things about what he was wearing or the decorations in his house."

"Alright. Thank you Italy."

"No problem! See you later Japan."

"Of course."

So Poland was coming over. Japan tried to remember what he knew about the nation. Poland was a good friend's of Lithuania's and as a result stood up to Russia on a frequent basis. He had an obsession with the color pink and ponies and talked like a high school girl.

Japan felt like he didn't want to think about Poland anymore. It would be easier to simply deny that those acts ever happened. And he didn't particularly want to be in a romantic relationship with Poland. But at the same time he really wanted to get to the bottom of what had happened at the bar.

And so he waited for Poland and saw the blonde head gently bouncing up his walkway.

"Japan!" Poland waved. Japan wondered if he should bow or shake hands. He opened his hands in a half-gesture expecting Poland to choose the greeting. Instead a rather large suit case was thrown into his waiting arms.

"You can just throw that anywhere." And now Japan saw that the other nation was lugging three other bags behind him.

"Were you expecting to stay here?"

"Like duh. Why else would I bring all this stuff?"

"You never said that on the phone."

"Oh sorry. I thought you knew."

"I wasn't expecting- I haven't prepared the guest room..."

"That's fine. I'll just sleep in yours."

Japan felt his stomach twist and turn. These Europeans were just too direct.

He followed Poland inside, a feeling of dread spinning him like a carnival ride.

Poland stayed a week. He demanded to go shopping all seven days of that week, which Japan obliged him with the utmost hospitality he could muster.

It was only on one of these shopping ventures that Japan learned more about their romantic liason.

Poland was going through racks of clothing, pink as cotton candy when he heard, "It's so funny Japan... the way you held me... it felt like I was going to explode. No one's ever held me like that before."

Japan was taken aback. "Please don't talk about those things here."

"Lighten up!" And Poland lightly curled his hair in his hands. "I know you're supposedly old but you look really young. I think that's adorable." And then Poland directed his attention to a certain shirt and his attentions were lost.

Japan's face burned.

Then just like that, Poland was gone, bouncing down Japan's walkway in his new pink clothes and waving effervescently. The oddest thing that struck Japan about the whole venture was that Poland, had not once, started any sort of physical contact with him for the whole week he had been there. Not one kiss, or romantic touch, or unmentionable other thing.

Still, Japan regarded it as a strange cultural difference or maybe the other nation had simply forgotten. Whatever it was, Japan felt like he had been let off easy.

They still saw each other at world meetings, however. During those times, Poland upped the display of public affection to 11, much to Japan's chagrin.

"Like you're so sweet Japan," he'd say out loud when he was sure he would get everyone's attention.

"You're just totally the greatest guy, god, how do you do it?"

Dumb love. Japan wouldn't call it anything else. Poland would probably call it something else, and demand he change his mind about calling it 'dumb love' but of course he would never tell Poland about what he thought of their relationship. He could just see Poland pulling his hair for refusing to change his mind. He hated when Poland did things like that, which was often and often uncalled for. That's why he called it dumb love.

"Like Japan," Poland called from across the conference table during the meeting's intercession, "You're totally taking me out to lunch, right?"

Though Japan didn't answer, the general opinion of everyone in earshot was that Japan would be taking Poland out to lunch. The two would sit at a booth at the end of the restaurant, as the Japanese man directed, and Poland would babble on and on about the contents of his shoe closet and how sequins were totally in this year. Japan would remain silent, stare blankly at Poland and decide whether or not to order the soup of the day or the two for one special.

It wouldn't have mattered though. Poland ordered for the both of them and promised "you're gonna love it." And, to Japan's continuos surprise, he usually ended up doing so.

Poland wasn't entirely disagreeable. He would grope at Japan in public but when the two were alone nothing that would suggest relations between the two happened. It was as if they were strangers when they were alone together. Poland would sit silently beside him and appear to be waiting for something. The look in his eyes would reflect a wide and vacuous ocean, placid and unhurried, wistful and melancholy. Japan preferred this Poland. This Poland Japan could understand in the way he understood the quiet characters in manga and soap operas. The shy girl off in the corner who eventually confesses her feelings for the handsome lead, only to be rejected because she waited too long and he already has a girl who will love him forever.

The kind of girl who will bury herself in her pillow and cry because she's such a coward and just when she mustered the courage to express her feelings her confidence is shattered again and she retreats back into that distant, barely human shell. It wasn't hard to relate to Poland when he was in that mood. Most days Japan felt pretty much the same.

But every other time Poland was the overloud, obnoxious and terribly blunt nation who was too much like the high school girls Japan used to fantasize about until he got to know them and all their pontificated drama.

"Like oh my god, did you see the way Sweden was staring at me during the meeting today? I swear he would have snapped me in two..."

Japan barely listened.

"...so creepy with his glasses. I mean, like, I'd never trust a man who wears them, there's just something creepy about how they glint in the light so you can't see their eyes..."

Or at least, he tried to barely listen.

"...and America's another one. And can you trust him? Of course not! Let's see... oh yeah. Germany. Sometimes he wears them. Ugh! I don't even want to think about him right now. And don't get me started on Austria! One time that guy promised me..."

Japan wished he could magically disappear. Become a pencil-thin outline that no one noticed. How did that guy-what was his name again?-do it?

But he was in Poland's line of fire and the red dot on the bull's eye. And Poland knew, with his superfluous manner of speech, how to make each shot count.

"...and then he has the nerve to tell me the truth about the whole thing! Oh yeah, I'm coming for another visit so you better make room for me. Of course, there's also Estonia. He's, like, in front of a computer screen too much if you ask me. And then there's-"

"Excuse me?" Japan faltered, which is to say, all his hopes of a peaceful homecoming faltered.

"Like Estonia? You know, that dude with the haircut kinda similar to yours-"

"You're coming to my house again?"

"Yeah. Whatever. Not a big deal. So anyway..."

Poland's mouth started moving again but this time Japan couldn't hear the words. He wanted to know why Poland insisted on being his lover. Wanted to go to his house. Wanted this, wanted that, wanted him. Why did Poland, of all people, want him? He still wasn't sure if he even wanted Poland.

He sought Lithuania the first chance he got. If there was anyone who could navigate the hot pink labyrinth that was Poland, it was, by Japan's logic, Lithuania.

"S-so you and Poland are dating?" The nation said.

Japan nodded. He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but it seemed the easiest way to get the conversation rolling. "I wanted to know a few things actually-"

"-about Poland," the Lithuanian supplied.

Once again, Japan gave an ambivalent nod.

The man seemed to trip on his words a bit before coming to a coherent thought. "He is- well, he's not- how do I say it? He is but he isn't. No, that doesn't make any sense. What I mean to say is Poland acts one way but is another way deep down."

Japan nodded. This time there were no ulterior meanings behind the nod. He had noticed the same thing about the nation as well.

"I-is there something else?"

Japan sighed. "It can't be helped it Poland is like that, I suppose." But I'm not sure how I fit the equation.

"Listen, Japan," this time Lithuania didn't stutter or betray any signs of nervousness, "I know I'm not in the place to be asking favors, but go easy on him, okay? He acts the way he does because he's scared, okay? At least, I think he does. Sooner or later he'll warm up to you, but for now, don't try to force it. It doesn't work that way."

For the final time, Japan nodded. It felt like he was signing away any hope of writing off Poland's interest in him as just a figment of his imagination. That he had taken responsibility. That he and Poland were now, officially, a couple. The nod said everything and though Japan had always relied on the importance of body gestures, none of them seemed as important as the one in front of Lithuania.

Yes, it said, I will go easy on him.

Japan. Poland. The old-style house. A work day.

Japan had woken up early. He had fixed breakfast and although he was not terribly sure of what Poland liked, he had a hunch that the other wouldn't be adverse to having breakfast made for him.

He was just fixing his tie when the other nation made himself known. Poland stood at the other end of the kitchen in an overlarge sweater, his arms crossed, leaning against the door frame, and in that pose, Japan almost thought there was something cute about him.

"I need to tell you something," his voice was flat.

"Poland! Please try some food. Unfortunately, you woke too late and I have to go to work now, but please help yourself." Japan hurried into his bedroom to grab his briefcase.

To his surprise, or rather, he wasn't so much surprised as perturbed, Poland followed him. In the same way, he leaned against the doorframe as Japan gathered his things.

"Japan." Poland's tone was still the same.

"I need to go to work. I need to help my boss with-" But something sent him crashing to the bed and before he could see he knew it was Poland. Poland, who was unzipping his pants and pulling them down. Poland, who should be his lover, so it should be okay.

Poland who he still couldn't figure out.

"But what about my job-"

"You know what?," Poland held a hand to his mouth, "Just shut up."

Japan obeyed. And obeyed and obeyed. Poland opened his mouth and took him all in.

"You don't have to put it all the way in."

"No... shallright."

"You don't have to do it if it will be a burden for you-"

"You know... I want to take you in. All of you and I don't care if you're really a closet pervert and all that shit. I just want you, Japan."

"I..."

"Jweeze. Rai ishit sho harshd to acshept?"

"It's ha... difficult to answer." He stroked the blonde strands of Poland's hair. He wasn't sure what he was saying, or he knew exactly what he was saying, but he wasn't sure of the meaning he attached to the words. Meaning didn't seem to matter. His head swirled.

"I guess...ah... I'm not sure... why it's me."

Japan wasn't sure if Poland answered after that. His groin started to tremble, he thought his heart would beat through his chest and into his hand. Poland was warm and soft and for a fleeting second, that could have been eternity, Japan thought the other was everything he hoped for.

It's so funny Japan... the way you held me... it felt like I was going to explode. No one's ever held me like that before.

Poland's words echoed in his head, ran around, passed each other and caught up with themselves. He reeled to a universe where he understood Poland completely, all the impatient frustration melted away. In one perfect second he knew what he had always known, that Poland was just Poland after all.

And then he crashed down. Realized he was late for work. That there was no hope that Poland was anything he wanted in a lover because Japan, for a long time, hadn't been hoping for a lover at all.

And that breakfast was probably cold.

Poland lay his head in his lap. There was no shyness in his gestures now.

"Japan."

Japan breathed, to signal he was listening. And so much more.

"The truth is we didn't have sex that one night. You just blanked out and I carried you back to your room."

It didn't surprise him. In fact, it explained the illusion of their relationship. That there had never been a Poland and Japan. Instead there was just a Japan. And a Poland. Separate people with vastly different personalities that could only be brought together by some kind of misunderstanding. He tried to think of something profound to say, to somehow clear the whole mirage of what they weren't, but his mind carried its attentions to Poland's act of courtesy. "Oh. Thank you for that. For bringing me to the room, I mean."

"Well I couldn't just leave you there."

And Japan knew he could have. There weren't many times that a nation was found passed out on a bathroom floor, but it did happen, however rare. Even so, what Poland admitted to him was a rarity all its own. It should signal some kind of end between the two. But, instead of feeling relieved at the end of their faux relationship, however, Japan felt discontent. He gasped at the feeling, so foreign, the pining for another.

"But you said another thing. That time you said no one had ever held you like I did..."

"Yep. I was lying about that too."

"Then no one has ever-"

"Oh believe me. I've had sex before. With Liet even. But you know, Liet isn't really the type for making you explode. And neither were all the other ones. M-maybe I'm just wishing for something that isn't real." His voice trembled at the last words. Perhaps Poland was, deep down, as much of a high school girl as he portrayed to be on the surface.

And it shouldn't have surprised Japan that much, but it did.

The head that rested on his lap was trembling, sniffling.

"Can we just stay like this for a little while longer," came the barely audible whisper.

Japan needed to go. But when he thought of the long, meticulous work that waited for him, the unforgivable feeling of being late and his boss' tired face he knew he would never be able to tear away the feeling of abandoning someone who had had the nerve into tricking him into becoming his lover.

"I think that would be alright. For a little while longer." Or maybe for as long as we want.

Thanks for reading. Sometimes writing rarepairs refreshes my perspective on things. It's also a lot of fun too because there's so many possibilities.