Good Morning.
Athens this time of year can be described as sweltering, though Heracles prefers to call it "lazy weather." Kiku really can't say much, since Japan gets just as bad (if not worse) around this time, too. They both can agree that neither of them mind, though, the throbbing hum of the air conditioner and the empty carton of sorbet acting as testaments to their desire to live up to the weather's designated nickname.
And on this particular day in mid August, they both were filled with even less motivation to do anything than they had been the previous year, the previous day, even. With Heracles sprawled out on his and Kiku's futons and Kiku sitting cross-legged next to him with uchiwa in hand, it seemed as if time was moving at their pace: Languidly, and with little desire to fulfill any semblance of a goal. It was a hot, slow, sleepy day, and not a soul in the world was going to change that. Even if it was just past nine o'clock, this day was already shaping up to be the laziest day the two had ever spent together, and that was saying something.
καλημέρα.
Heracles wasn't entirely sure why the curtains had been drawn, revealing a tiny balcony overlooking the city, though he was sure that he hadn't been the one to do it. He was well aware that the Japanese man next to him rarely got to come to Athens, so perhaps he simply wanted to take in as many sights as possible before having to scurry back to Tokyo. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, however, and he most certainly didn't mind the way the light wove into Kiku's hair, shimmering golden against threads of deep espresso. A lop-sided smile was forming on his face as he reached up, running his fingers through the other man's hair, gently scratching his scalp as he did so.
Kiku leans into his touch as he always does, melting at the heated and tingling ministrations until his head has collided with the Greek's chest, a contented sigh quickly passing upon arrival. He closes his eyes as his body conforms to the distinct shape of his partner's torso. One arm between them, one arm draped across a midsection, and one other working its way around Kiku's waist, its connected hand resting somewhere along the Japanese man's side.
καλημέρα.
The face of Heracles turns to the right to press a tender kiss to dark hair while the face of Kiku turns to the left to nuzzle his nose into the other's chest. The Japanese man smiles, inhaling the scent of his love's bare flesh. The Greek man smiles too, rubbing tiny circles into his love's hip with the pad of his thumb.
Olive against cream, both flushed a shade of rose and enhanced with the brilliance of morning's light. The shifting of bodies like mist, fluid and light and ever-changing. The closing of curtains, the tiniest of sleepy giggles and gravelly hums. The adjustments of t-shirts and boxers, of draping blankets over hearts beating in sync. The sudden absence of vibrant colors being replaced with embracing shadows softened only with the sounds of precious kisses and sweet nothings.
No, not much of anything was going to get accomplished today. Heracles and Kiku don't really think that's an issue. For today is a "lazy" day, and "lazy" days are best spent pretending that the air conditioner's roar is a lullaby, the sorbet a sugary prologue, and the sluggish movement of time an invitation to remain blissfully asleep in the arms of the one you hold dearest.
καλημέρα.