Title: That Which Can't Be Conveyed
Summary: There are some things that just can't be put into words. Or, Japan should just stop trying to explain his relationship with America. Especially when he can't get a word in edgewise. Oh well. Featuring established Ameripan, perverted!Prussia, protective!China and a frighteningly puppy-like America.
Warnings: Rated T for Prussia and France (i.e. sexual references, language and downright rudeness). Also, copious overuse of parenthesis.
Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me. Neither does McDonald's or Hello Kitty.
Notes: This is placed after Whisper, another fic of mine about the Manhattan Project. It's super short (~900 words) and super angsty. Oh well. You don't need to read Whisper to understand this one (I'm not kidding. You really don't.) but I encourage everyone to read it! (Shameless plug.)
There's hints of established RoChu (RussiaxChina), GreecexTurkey (what is their couple name anyway?) and PruCan (PrussiaxCanada) in here too. And, uh, France being France. (Because lol no, I don't try to fit in all the pairings I can in gratuitous self-indulgence at all.)
Enjoy!
Japan was a hard worker. Anyone who knew him (and even many of those who didn't) would testify to that, usually with an accompanying assertive nod (China) an affectionate roll of the eyes (America) or a confused flick of the hand and attempted grope (France).
Right now, Japan had to work very hard to concentrate and to avoid adding another slash into the already mangled wooden table (many of the cuts in the gleaming rosewood were suspiciously close to a wrathful Belarus. The angry nation was practically radiating death from the raging glare she was sending China, who was getting molested by Russia, and appeared to actually enjoy it).
Japan looked over to Germany, who was practically twitching from the utter chaos generated by the assorted countries in the world meeting. The blonde man was trying to comfort North Italy, who was blubbering about how Romano had rejected his hug-although frankly, Veneziano should've been used to that by now, while the older Italy didn't appear to be remorseful in the least and was busy screaming at Spain with a beet-red face to stop pinching his cheeks because "fuck you, I do not look like a tomato, you Spanish bastard!"
Japan shifted his focus towards the corner of the room, which harbored a mischievous Turkey, who was attempting to have Greece wet himself in his sleep using a cup of warm water, which prompted thoughts of intervention in Japan's head before the dark-haired nation remembered that trying to break up the near-constant fighting between the neighboring countries was a definite Bad Idea, because whenever they weren't fighting, they were kissing, and they were always so nauseatingly public that Japan wasn't sure that he didn't prefer the fighting.
Japan heard America laughing (who could miss it?) and turned towards the blonde nation as England made a poisonous remark directed towards France, who was currently over the moon because Poland's pink plaid miniskirt rode up to reveal his pony-themed underwear when the cross-dressing nation bent over to hand an agitated Lithuania some Polish snack that the Pole claimed would, "like, totally make you chillax."
That phrasing made Japan think that either the food was laced with drugs or Poland had been talking to America.
And Japan could've sworn that he saw a camera flash go off, and he immediately turned to Hungary, who was hastily stuffing her camera into her purse. Japan made a mental note to ask her for a copy of the story she would inevitably churn out a couple weeks later. He could practically see the subsequent doujinshi he could make in his mind.
The oriental nation should've been paying attention to the man at the head of the table whose name he had forgotten, for some reason, but he couldn't even hear the guy, no matter how hard he tried.
And the man was turning transparent in his peripheral vision.
How strange.
One detail about the mystery speaker caught Japan's attention, however. Despite the slightly longer hair and violet eyes-both of which Japan took note of, he was very observant-the speaker looked exactly like America.
Japan blushed unwittingly at the thought of his boyfriend. To every other nation's surprise (well, every other nation except for Hungary; she seemed to have known from the beginning), the two countries had started dating and Japan hadn't run away screaming. Yet.
China was very obstinate about that "yet," as he was convinced that the running and screaming were inevitable in any relationship involving America.
According to Japan, their relationship had taken off a few years ago (not dreadfully long, in the life of a nation) when Japan had finally forgiven America for the historical bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In reality, it had started when America first begged for forgiveness, but Japan liked to think that he wasn't so soft that he forgave America as soon as an apology crossed the blonde nation's lips-along with countless justifications about how his boss had forced him into the Manhattan Project.
Japan snapped to attention as Germany slammed his hands on the table, making Latvia jump out of his seat, and took charge of the haphazard world meeting.
"Oui, oui, you are understood, mon petit Angleterre, now is the meeting over?"
The Briton glared daggers at the Frenchman, who simply looked back with a wink and a charming smile, which annoyed the Englishman to no end.
"I doubt you have anything in your schedule more important than solving the world's problems," England spat out. He ignored America's call of "you pronounced 'schedule' wrong, dude!"
"Au contraire, I have many better ways to spend my time, and most of them involve you in my bed~" France continued, swinging his hips and trailing off artfully.
England spluttered, his face turning bright red. "You bloody frog!" he screeched. "You think that I would...that I would even think of...you prat! You can't even speak proper English!"
"Ohonhonhon~" the Frenchman chuckled. "Mais mon adorable Angleterre, le Français est la langue de l'amour~"
As the argument (not a debate, as the word "debate" implied some level of decorum and a higher purpose than this petty squabble) escalated, England's face was turning a brighter and brighter red, ("Eh! Inglaterre starting to look like a little toma-" "Don't you dare say it, you turtle bastard!") while France's flirtations were becoming more and more pronounced. Japan stared at them impassively, long since used to their displays. Until...
"Mein Gott! You two must stop this utter nonsense! My house, next week for the meeting. Auf wiedersehen." The German stood up, nodded once to Japan, and dragged his Italian friend out of the meeting, ignoring the brunette's cry of, "Ve~ Where are we going, Germany?"
The room was silent for a second, the nations' words on the tips of their tongues as the moment hung suspended in the air. Then it came crashing down in a cacophony of noise as the nations all rushed for the door in one large wave.
I suppose that it's a good thing I'm staying here, Japan thought, relaxing slightly in his chair. He was going to have lunch with China today (China claimed he just wanted to spend time with his younger brother, Japan suspected an interrogation in the making), and since neither knew any good restaurants here in France and neither were willing to try their luck on the streets or (God forbid) ask France for any suggestions, they decided to pack their own lunches.
Japan started in surprise when he felt a strong pair of arms sneak around his waist and a kiss pressed to his temple. Panicking for a moment (he was just thinking about France), the nation whirled around and dropped a hand to the hilt of his katana. At the sight of familiar blonde hair (shorter than France's, thank God) and bright blue eyes shining with amusement, however, the island nation relaxed.
"Konnichiwa, America-san," Japan murmured, subtly trying to disentangle himself. Although they were openly dating, Japan still wasn't too comfortable with public displays of affection-it had nothing to do with America, Japan just couldn't help but feel that others seeing their intimacy was somehow improper.
"Hiya, Japan!" America grinned, oblivious to his boyfriend's silent efforts. "You look really cute when you're surprised!" Japan blushed and struggled harder. He couldn't help thinking that it was rather unfair how America insisted on embarrassing him like this. It was ironic, really, how the cultural difference between the two nations didn't seem to affect America at all, while Japan was all too awkwardly aware. Japan struggled some more, finally managing to wiggle out of America's embrace. The American pouted.
"Why won't you let me hold you, babe?" he whined, holding out his arms like he expected a hug. "Please? Please?"
Japan's heart melted at the display. How could he resist that one pleading look from America's big baby blues, which were glistening with what looked like the welling of tears, the expression complete with a wobbling lower lip and lowered voice? It was amazing how America could manage to look so pitiful that Japan fell for him all over again-and Japan certainly wasn't known for demonstrative responses. Japan desperately looked around the room, searching for an excuse for escape.
"All the other nations are gone, Japan," America whispered, still with that mournful look as he caught his boyfriend's desperate glance. The overhead lights reflected off of his long golden eyelashes.
"Isn't China here?" Japan tried, looking for his older brother.
"He went to the bathroom," America replied, tilting his head to one side in a way that should've looked innocent, but rather made Japan suspicious of his older brother's timing (or if it was really China's timing at all). "Please, Japan? Please?"
There was a moment of silence before Japan sighed. "Fine, but-"
"Hooray!" The Japanese man was interrupted by America's whoop of joy. The blonde (without a single trace of those crocodile tears, damn him) pulled Japan into his lap as he flopped down onto a chair.
"Now isn't this more comfy?" America cooed in Japan's ear. Japan felt his cheeks turn pink again at America's open affection, which only made the blonde nation chuckle.
"You're blushing!" America sang softly in his ear. "That's just too cute."
America grinned. "You. Are. Adorable." He punctuated each word with a kiss, one on each cheek and the last on the tip of Japan's nose, which only served to brighten the Asian nation's blush, much to America's delight and Japan's dismay.
"Hey, Japan!" America exclaimed, glowing with a thousand-watt smile. "You want to go out for ice cream? My treat!"
"Ah, I-"
"Yeah, you're right, babes. Last week was ice cream week. So whaddaya say to trolling the patis...patisser...uh...pastry shops?"
"A-America, I actually-"
"No!" The oblivious western nation gasped. "I got it! You should totally come over to my place to play a couple of rounds of Incubo II! I just bought the game yesterday from Veneziano-so, you know, I'm kinda doubting its creep-factor, but I've been waiting for you to come over so we can play it together! Gaming is, like, our thing!"
"America!" Japan said firmly. "I cannot spend the afternoon with you, as I have planned lunch with China-niisan." Seeing his boyfriend's face fall, Japan quickly added, "although I will happily play Incubo II with you when I have time to spare." Japan watched America's face light up again like a Christmas tree.
"Oh, baby, you're the best boyfriend ever!" Japan raised one dark brow at the nickname, one he had been subject to before but never understood.
"'Baby?'" he asked simply. America's head bobbed up and down.
"Yeah, do you like it? It's totally perfect for you!"
"I do not understand. Isn't a baby a newborn child?"
"More than that, babe," America replied blithely. "It's also a love name that fits you to a T because you're so short-"
"America-"
"-And cuddly and adorable and I just want to kiss you over and over again." At this, the blonde nation kissed Japan soundly on the lips, drowning out the Eastern nation's protests for a second before Japan pushed America off lightly. (It was funny, really. It would usually take at least two nations to pry America away from something he really wanted, but ever since he had started dating Japan, he was putty in his boyfriend's small hands.) "America," Japan said sternly, looking seriously at a grinning westerner.
"Yeah, Japan?" America asked, still grinning with that oh-so-damn-sexy smile and that devilishly innocent glimmer in his eye that summed up his character in a single glance. Japan swallowed thickly.
"T-This is neither the time nor the place for such actions," Japan stammered. America's grin got even wider at Japan's obvious attempt to convince himself.
"Could've fooled me, babe," America breathed in Japan's ear, right before attacking Japan again with another kiss.
Japan pushed half-heartedly at America's shoulders, trying to ignore the intoxicating taste of salt and sugar, a sinfully sweet fusion that somehow seemed irresistible. His only response to his feeble efforts was another open mouthed kiss, this time on his jawbone as Japan breathlessly carded his nimble fingers through America's hair. America's next kiss elicited a moan from Japan's lips.
Unfortunately for Japan, a very loud moan.
"Wh-What is going on here, aru~?!" China's voice rang out in the meeting room.
The couple snapped apart, and Japan frantically tried to straighten out his clothes and fix his hair.
"Oh, nothing!" America called out cheerfully, not bothered at all by the sudden appearance of his boyfriend's brother. "Just saying goodbye to Japan here, is all."
"By trying to steal his virtue?" China screamed in a strangled voice, turning red in the face.
"No, no, no!" America backpedaled quickly with wide eyes. "Not at all! R-Right, Japan?" Japan stared in shock for a moment before nodding fervently.
"Of course not, oniisan! We were simply saying farewell! Ah, ja-ne, America!"
"You," China seethed, jabbing one fierce finger at America, making the nation flinch, "get out, now. I will not stand to have my dìdi defiled, aru~!"
"I swear I wasn't-"
"OUT."
"Y-Yep. Leaving. Now." America bolted out of the room faster than Japan had ever seen him run when there wasn't the promise of a McDonald's (Or a naked Japan, although that time Japan hadn't tempted him on purpose). Japan watched him scramble out of the door in silence.
"Chūgoku-niisan," Japan sighed, finally relaxing in his seat, "you didn't have to scare him off like that." China finished giving the open doorway a venomous glare and huffily took out his lunch from his backpack (after carefully setting his panda plushie to the side).
"I come back from the bathroom-which took forever to locate-and I find my younger brother getting violated by that idiot! I think I have the right to be angry, aru~!" Japan blushed a bright scarlet.
"W-Well, regardless, we weren't going to-"
"Yes, yes," China sighed, his anger deflating. Wŏ zhī dào. You are far too innocent to be tainted like that." Japan silently took his lunch out from under his chair and set it on the table.
"I don't get it," China suddenly blurted out.
Japan looked up at his older brother, the island nation's dark eyes colored with faint surprise.
"You do not get what?" he asked carefully. Japan unwrapped his bento box, feeling China's eyes follow his every movement.
"I do not understand how you can manage to be in America's presence for more than ten seconds, aru~!" China exclaimed, his anger flaring up again. "The guy's an ass!"
"He is not so bad," Japan contradicted quietly, with a soft smile. China ignored him.
"I don't know how you've become so close to him, but it makes no sense."
"Aren't you rather close to America-san as well?" Japan murmured. China scoffed.
"Oh, please, aru~. America is only friendly with me because he owes me money. And he wants cheap labor."
Japan, having nothing to say to that, simply started eating. China popped a potsticker into his mouth.
Neither of the Eastern nations were particularly given to expressing affection or love to one another. Sometimes, Japan felt China's pain (a veritable aura of unhealed wounds) whenever the older nation's back ached-he would always touch that scar, and the memory of the bright steel of Japan's katana, glistening with his older brother's blood cut though Japan's heart like a blade.
There were times when Japan found China ready to collapse from too much strain on his back and there were times when Japan had seen his older brother lying broken on the floor, his determined amber eyes dull and glazed over with pain, his shoulders curled in on himself as he shivered-so utterly vulnerable that it ached. Japan was painfully aware of how ancient China was, and how cracked the mask (and what a mask-a golden, glittering organism so fine-tuned and delicate one had to touch it to realize it wasn't alive) he wore when he presented his professional face to the world.
But then there were times when the older nation didn't seem so old at all, cuddling a Hello Kitty doll to his chest or promising to protect Japan at any cost-which Japan believed whole-heartedly. And the bright mask didn't seem so much a mask at all, and Japan could stop feeling-just for a little while-this terrible guilt that haunted him since those wars.
Forgiveness is difficult, so difficult it can seem impossible. China could hold a grudge for a long time, and sometimes Japan felt that it was completely justified (though sometimes he didn't-and he wasn't sure which scared him more).
Japan felt China nudge his arm slightly, so soft that it could have been the falling sakura blossoms kissing his skin in the spring. Japan turned, and his eyes met China's, which were squeezed tightly shut. Japan's eyes traced their way down China's body to his hand wielding a pair of chopsticks-that were holding out a dumpling to Japan.
Japan looked up at China in surprise, and saw his older brother's eyes open again, glowing, with his head tilted slightly and adorned by that small self-depreciating smile, that promised that maybe forgiveness wasn't so far off after all and Japan could've sworn that it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
Slam. The door flew open to reveal a stumbling Prussia, clutching onto the doorframe with one hand, a beer with the other and giggling madly.
"Kesesesesese~ The awesome me is here! Now the party can really start, ja?"
Japan stared as China quickly stepped in front, holding out an arm to keep Japan behind him.
Prussia rubbed his bright red eyes and looked around the room, the smirk dropping from his face. "Well, shit. Here I thought that I would be all awesome and crash the loser world meeting, but there's no one here except for you two. Damn, guys, where'd everybody go?"
"The meeting is over, aru~" China said, recovering faster than a still-motionless, culture-shocked Japan. Prussia sat on the table with a groan and set down his beer as the two eastern nations wrinkled their noses as they caught wind of the strong alcoholic stench that Prussia was radiating in waves.
"Daaamn," Prussia repeated, stretching out the vowel. "Daaaaaaaaaamn." Prussia looked lovingly at his beer.
"I just had a couple'a drinks before coming over here," Prussia informed the other two nations happily, with a flush coloring his face.
"Are you drunk?"
"Fuck, man, I'm smashed!" Prussia said gleefully, beaming at China.
"Then how are you still coherent?" China asked curiously. He had troubles holding his liquor, as he had learned the hard way from certain...Russian influences. (No, strip poker hadn't been involved. It's not strip poker when you don't play poker.)
"Experience," Prussia grinned. China frowned.
"Why are you even here, anyway, aru~?"
"Because I am a nation!" Prussia said proudly, pounding his chest.
"No, you're not," China deadpanned.
"Fuck you, man, I am, too!"
"Then why do you live in your brother's basement?" China challenged.
"B-because I want to! I do whatever the fuck I want! And bruder has a nice basement! It's all organized and shit..." Prussia poked his head under the table, emerging a second later with a disappointed pout, slapping the table as he rose. Japan jumped.
"What are you doing?" Japan asked, clearing his throat and speaking up for the first time since Prussia arrived.
"Looking for a pole. I wanna dance."
"What."
"I wanna daaaaaance."
"What am I still doing here, aru~" China muttered.
"Whoa," Prussia said, with half-lidded eyes and raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you've never pole-danced before."
"Of course not!" China screamed, horrified at the idea.
"Well, I can totally see it. Oh!" Prussia gasped. "You have long hair! You must have a whole dirty schoolgirl thing going on, am I right?" China made a strangled indignant noise as Prussia shook his head and grinned. "No, no, no, wait. I heard that the naughty schoolgirl was Japan's thing." Prussia turned on Japan. "You totally RP with America, right? Of course you do."
Japan and America actually hadn't had sex yet, but Japan still stared at Prussia like a deer caught in the headlights at the mention of his less-than-modest pornography. As an overall modest country, there wasn't much to be said about people having wild or dangerous sex, but Japan more than made up for it in creativity. Students, men, women, even different species, the citizens of Japan certainly knew how to spice up their sex, at least in their manga.
"You do!" Prussia gasped delightedly misinterpreting Japan's silence as an affirmative. "Oh my God, you do!"
"Japan!" China cried. "How could you! And without telling your gēge! Where is your propriety!"
"I-we don't-"
"Hush!" Prussia shushed him with a single long, tapered finger, making Japan go cross-eyed staring at the digit. "Don't even try to deny it!" Prussia sang. "I can see it in your eyes!"
"I should've known, aru~! The way you two are always so close!"
"I told you-" China silenced him with a glare.
"Hey," Prussia said, his brow furrowing as he addressed China. "Hold up a sec. If your younger bro and Sliders are dating-" China rolled his eyes at the albino's nickname for America. "And Sliders is bros with Birdie-" China frowned at the unfamiliar title. "-Who is dating the awesome me, obviously, then that makes us, like..." Prussia thought for a second, then snapped his fingers triumphantly. "Bros!"
"No." China was horrified.
"Really?" Prussia persisted. "I think it does."
"Never," China swore. "And I believe we need to return to the subject at hand, aru~ Now tell me honestly," China said seriously, turning and laying his hands on Japan's shoulders. "Has America hurt you too badly?"
"No! We don't have s-"
"It's okay," China interrupted. "You can tell me anything, I'm your gēge. Speak openly."
"We haven't-"
"Just tell me already!"
"He hasn't hurt me at all because we haven't-"
Crash.
"Mein Gott," Prussia breathed in amazement, not even sparing the broken beer bottle a glance as he grasped open air. "Everyone is hurt their first time bottoming. Everyone." China nodded along, his eyebrows furrowed, as if he'd learned this the hard way. China absently rubbed his panda, and ducked his head, hiding a small smile.
"-So if Japan hasn't been hurt," Prussia continued, "does that mean that..." he paused, looking for words. "Does that mean that he tops?" China gasped and threw a hand over Japan's mouth, quieting the fresh wave of denial. Aside to Prussia, China said in a hushed tone, "W-well, he's always been strong...and independent...I suppose it could happen..." China's expression softened as he felt an irrational fierce rush of pride for his younger brother-because dammit, China's a dominant man (yes, dominant. Not bossy. Shut up.) and anyone related (because they are related, no matter what Japan says) to him should be dominant too.
"We're talking America, though!" Prussia replied, furrowing his eyebrows. "He'd never admit that he's a bottom!"
"But Japan's got experience!"
"Please, he may be old, but just tell me he doesn't reek of virginity."
"That's insulting! And where do you think he gets the ideas for his kinky pornos, aru~? He must've showed America a thing or two about the bedroom for that to work!"
"Bitch, please! America's so fucking dominant and goddamn insecure all the time he must try to top the fuck out of Japan!"
"Excuse me? Did you just call me a bitch?"
"Yeah, you're practically Russia's property, aren't you? You're Russia's bitch!"
"How dare you! I do not even think you have a partner, aru~!"
"Fuck you too! Why does everyone forget about Canada! Oh my God, he's not fucking invisible!"
"Who?"
At that remark, Prussia lost all remaining traces of restraint and flung himself at China, who immediately smushed a pork bun in his face. The two crashed onto the hardwood floor, kicking at scratching at each other, screaming things like "Canada could fucking fling your ass into orbit during a hockey match!" and "Tea is so much better than maple syrup, you liar!" (There was an obscene reply to that, focusing on various...interesting...ways to use maple syrup, but Japan opted to try to block that from his mind.) Japan stared in astonishment before trying to yank an obstinate China out of the way (was that a bird pecking at his older brother's face?) Japan snatched at China's shirt, his fingers slipping on the silken fabric. Dammit, why did China have to be so defensive? And on a completely foolish premise, too.
Thunk.
Prussia hit the floor as he toppled, unbalanced both by the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed and the well-practiced kung-fu kick to the ankles, provided all too willingly by China, who was standing triumphantly over him with a smirk plastered over his face.
"China," Japan said insistently, firmly tapping on his brother's shoulder. "Stop at once." China shot Japan a guilty glance over his shoulder, and immediately stepped off of Prussia, leaving the albino nation moaning, his pale hair flopping in his eyes. Japan gestured to a chair, and China sat down, a chagrined flush coloring his face.
"Now, to get one point clear," Japan said seriously, looking between China and Prussia with a small frown. "I do not have sex with America." Japan felt his face heat up at the subject matter. "And one should not talk about such inappropriate matters." China looked like he really wanted to interrupt, but restrained himself. Prussia made a moan of protest.
Japan glanced at his unfinished lunch (he had only eaten half of his fish) and weighed his options. He decided that yes, wrapping his lunch up and eating it later was definitely preferable to staying here in this dangerous situation. (Yes, he thought, watching Prussia try to lick some of his lost alcohol off of the floor. It is definitely dangerous here.) Japan cleared his throat with a cough.
"Unfortunately, I have urgent business to attend to-"
Lie.
"-so thank you for eating lunch with me, China, as I had a pleasant time-"
Lie.
"-and I hope to eat lunch with you again soon."
Lie.
Japan quickly packed up the remains of his lunch and briskly walked out of the door, doing his best to ignore his older brother's guiltily pleading eyes.
Exiting the building (the door had a beautiful pale art nouveau trim, in tasteful contrast to the dark wood of the walls), Japan walked out onto the streets of France. Hearing his phone ring, Japan quickly fished it out of his jacket pocket and pressed the device to his ear.
"Moshimoshi," he spoke. "Nihon desu ga."
"Hi, baby." America's voice came through the receiver. "I was thinking, do you want to come over? B-becauseI'mkindoflonelyandIreallywanttoseeyou." Japan blinked, and his expression softened.
"Of course, America-san," he murmured. "I will be over promptly."
"Phew," America exhaled. "Thanks, Japan." The line was silent for a moment before America spoke again.
"And I love you." Japan stared wide-eyed at his phone. The two had never touched those words before, never even hinted at them, and the gravity of the situation hit Japan with full force. This was something serious, Japan could sense that down to his bones.
But despite that weight, there was something infinitely lighter pressing against the walls of Japan's chest, begging to dance outwards, twirling, and leave bright, sunny splashes of color and life and love in its wake. Words bubbled up in Japan's throat but he swallowed them, basking in America's confession, soaking it up like a bud desperate for water.
"Japan, it's okay if-"
"Say it again," Japan commanded, interrupting his boyfriend in mid-sentence, his mind flying ahead as America hummed softly into the phone.
"I love you, Japan." Japan closed his eyes in bliss and pressed his lips shut, as if that could keep the moment inside him as more than a glowing memory. Because America really-he really- "Daisuki," Japan replied, the word stumbling on itself on his haste to get it out. "Daisuki, America, I-I love you, too. I love you so much, and I...arigatou gozaimasu."
"O-Oh! That's-that's wonderful, Japan! I can't believe-I can't-" the American stuttered, then quieted abruptly as a wonderfully comfortable silence fell over the two. Japan felt his lips curve upward into a smile-a real smile so large he wished that America could see it.
"I love you, Japan."
"I know, America."
"No, really, I love you so much."
"I understand that."
"I love you so much you don't understand."
"I heard you the first few times."
"No, Japan, seriously, I really, really love you."
"Hush! You are ruining the moment by overusing those words. They will not be as special now." America paused for a second.
"Hey, Japan?"
"Yes?"
"I love you." Japan sighed into the phone, and for all his argumentative words, that giddy feeling still danced across his now-color-splattered canvas and his smile never faltered.
"I love you too."
fin
Notes:
Phew! That was the longest one-shot I've ever written. But it really felt good, and I loved writing it (so glad I got in some brotherly JapanxChina feels because NiChu is love). Lesson learned: never put China and Prussia alone in a room together. Something will end up exploding.
If there is one thing I learned from writing this, it's that I love having the nations speak in their own languages, even if it's just a couple of words. Because a) I'd imagine it's pretty hard speaking in the "universal language" all the time when it's not your best language, and b) Foreign languages are sexy as hell. However, despite my foreign language fetish (Discovered my kink, gaiz), I am not fluent in any language except for English (and even that's debatable sometimes), and I don't pretend to be. So if you have any corrections on inaccurate translations, don't be shy!
I know that katanas are outdated, but honestly, my headcanon has a visceral hatred of Japan wielding any modern weapon. In that vein, I always picture China using a wok and ladle, America using one of those old-timey shotguns and Spain wielding his gigantic battle axe. (Which I swear, is the strangest turn on ever. Jesus Christ.)
Thank you so much for reading, and please leave a review!