Hello again! If you read this story before 2/27/13, be advised that we split the original chapter 1 in half, so chapter 2 will look familiar. We decided it was too long, and we weren't getting any responses. We love reviews. We are addicted to them, and we want to know what you think so we can be better writers!
Chapter 3 is in the final editing stages, and will be posted soon!
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Chapter 2: Something Else
Japan watches Turkey's escape with wide-eyes, lips parted in shock and no little lust. If not jealousy. How unfair. They hate each other, and they still...
He lays a hand on Greece's shoulder for a second, watching the other man disappear into the kitchen. Then he follows, eyes narrowed. The second he reaches the kitchen, he grabs Turkey and spins him around, demanding answers. "Sadik-san... What was that?"
The little guy's got a bit of strength in him, spinning him like that. Of course Turkey knew that, it's part of what attracted him to Japan in the first place. But that power was never really used against him before, and he finds it kind of sexy. What was he asking...? Oh. Well fuck. "Brat couldn't breathe."
Oh, he's telling the truth in that respect. However, Japan's eyes narrow. "You know what I mean." He growls it softly, leaning into his face, somewhat like a parent scolding a child- though really, since he's so much shorter, he looks like the child scolding the parent. His heart is hammering in his chest, the thought of them together doing strange things in his stomach. "What was that?"
Turkey can't recall a time he has ever been quite so glad for his mask. It blocks some of his expression, because he can't keep quite everything he's feeling from reaching his face. How is he supposed to answer a question like that, when he doesn't understand it himself? He wishes he could skirt around this, but Japan's eyes hold him better than any chains. He shrugs, trying to appear unaffected. "Something else." He knows it isn't a good answer, but he doesn't really know what else to say.
Japan's eyes widen a little, and he steps back, letting him go. It's true, then. He swallows a little, turning back toward the stove and trying to stomp down the feelings of envy and lust. Hera and Sadik... They must care for each other as much as they hate each other. He doesn't know which one he's more jealous of. Both of them, certainly. He has always felt an odd chemistry with Sadik, the way he tries so hard to hide his roughness when Kiku's around, possessively guarding his feelings when all Kiku wants to do is throw off his clothes and see everything he's always keeping behind that mask. And Hera... He's the part of his world that makes no sense, but fits perfectly. Without him, there's no calm. But when Sadik's around, Hera comes to life with a fire to match him. It is no surprise that they would channel that heat in other ways.
Contemplating it silently, Kiku turns to the soup and stirs it, letting the silence cushion his anger, his lust. Finally, he speaks, trying to sound normal. "Here." He fills a small bowl. "Bring this to him."
Shit. Sadik never meant for this to be a big deal. He's been telling himself for years that it isn't. But clearly it means something to Kiku. He opens his mouth to try explaining, or asking, or something, but a bowl is shoved into his hands. Apparently Kiku doesn't want to talk about it; that's fine with him. He and Hera never talk about it. He takes the bowl but gestures to the stinking mop. "I should, uh...yeah. I'll get that in a minute."
Japan grabs the mop and bucket, taking it to the bathroom where he can complete the ugly job in peace and not look at them for a while. He sets to work, dumping the disgusting water into the bathtub and refilling the bucket anew. Why does this always happen to him? Ever since he left Yao, everyone he's wanted to be with has been with someone else. Italy and Germany, Netherlands and Canada, America and... Well. The last person to touch him was Francis, and that man doesn't seem to know the meaning of the word fidelity.
Hera looks up when he hears the heavy footsteps, wondering why it is not Kiku who has returned. Sadik is making an... interesting face. He can't quite read it with the mask, but something has definitely happened. He raises an eyebrow. "What did you do to Kiku?" he croaks.
Turkey sets the soup on the table beside the bed and starts to sit, then remembers their earlier scene and thinks better of it. "Nothing. He, uh...asked. About us." He puts the spoon in Hera's shaking hand and closes Hera's fingers around it before stepping back, awkwardly shifting.
"Oh." His reaction would be so much more, if only Hera could get up the energy to reflect the turmoil in his head. He can tell that it was not as simple a thing as they've been trying to make it be. He always wondered if he should tell Kiku about that, but he figured it wasn't important. He likes Japan so much, but he was so... unlike them, when it came to sex.
In the end he simply nods and leans forward. He didn't realize he was hungry until he smelled the soup. His stomach isn't twisting yet, either; that's a good sign. He tries to get some from the bowl, but his fingers can't hold onto the spoon properly. It clatters to the table, leaving a small puddle of soup. He groans and rolls onto his side.
"Brat. Sulking won't help." It isn't said unkindly, though. Before Turkey quite knows what he's doing, he's propping up pillows and sitting Greece up against them. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and wraps Greece's hand around the spoon again. The soup makes it a little further, but this time falls on the bed. With a sigh he picks up the spoon himself, fills it, and brings it to Hera's mouth. The brat glares at him, refusing to open. "C'mon. Don't be stupid. I didn't poison it or anything."
Greece in not about to let Turkey, of all nations, spoon-feed him. It is more than his pride can take. He keeps his lips locked and his eyes hard. Turkey tries pushing it against his lips, and he finally flings the spoon away, curling on his side once more to face the wall. "No."
Frustrated beyond his breaking point, and without a healthy Greece to take it out on, Turkey narrowly resists the urge to overturn the little table entirely. "FINE! Starve, for all I care. Never get better. I'll leave you to it, I don't know why I ever bother coming here." He stomps out of the room.
By the time Kiku finishes cleaning the mop, he has decided that he simply needs to block it all away. Stop thinking about it, or them, or the two of them together. Of course, the moment he comes out of the bathroom and sees Sadik stomping away, Hera looking glumly down at his soup, it's butterflies all over again. He wanders out toward Hera slowly, using the edge of his robe to wipe away the soup on the table and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He does not look at Hera as he takes the bowl away. "You really do need to eat, Hera-kun."
Greece refuses to look either, because if he doesn't look, then he won't see whatever face Japan is making for those words to sound so sad. He is glad he can go back to hating Turkey in peace for the moment; it gives him something else to concentrate on. "I know. But I can't."
Japan sighs, holding the bowl between his fingers and tipping it to Greece's lips, trying to keep his eyes there, and not on him. "Drink, please."
Hera supposes this is acceptable. Kiku, at least, will not bring it up against him publically. So he sits enough not to choke and allows Kiku to help him drink it. It's wonderful on his sore throat, soothing the ache. It's difficult not to drink it all at once, when his empty belly is craving any amount of it. But he'd really rather not bring it all back up again. "Thank you," he says sincerely, between sips.
Japan nods, but does not reply. He pulls the bowl away for a moment to wipe up the bit that spilled on the sheets earlier. He's fairly surprised that he spilled none himself. His hands are steadier than anything else in him now. After he finishes cleaning it away, he raises the bowl again, looking toward the kitchen where Sadik stomped away.
Hera doesn't mean to look. He is perfectly content to concentrate on the wavering wall behind Kiku's head, or the bowl of soup - anything but his face. He sees it anyway, and that means he cannot leave it be. He doesn't like to see Kiku looking like that. "Are you angry with us?"
Japan stiffens, eyes opening a little wider at the question. "Hmm?" He looks at him with his head cocked to the side, playing dumb, even as his heart skips a beat. "What do you mean? Why would I be?" He asks genuinely, because he truly is confused. What right does he have to be angry?
Maybe it's the fever, but Greece finds himself talking about that thing that he has never before named. "Sadi-I mean that bastard. He said he told you...about us. That we..." Why is this so hard to say? It's not like it's a problem, or a big deal. Really. It isn't. It isn't supposed to be. "That we have sex. You seem unhappy."
Kiku can't breathe, he can't move, his throat appears to be tied in a knot. There it is. The moment it's said, any hope of perhaps misunderstanding all of this is lost. He sets the bowl down to keep from spilling it and folds his hands in his lap, tension slowly unwinding into the acceptance long built into his bones.
"I'm not angry," he says it softly, because he's not, and that's as honest as he feels he can be right now. Still, he smiles at Hera. "I will get you more soup." He slides from the edge of the bed, taking the bowl with him.
"Ki-" Greece tries to call out, to reach after him, but ends up slumped over in a fresh fit of coughing. Why did this have to happen when his defenses are at their lowest? Perhaps it has happened because they are. This isn't a thing he's prepared to deal with. Miserably, he reaches for a cat to cuddle. Uncomplicated affection, uncomplicated hatred. Cats have very little in-between to deal with.
Turkey has been drinking whiskey in the kitchen. He looks up when Japan enters, and with a wry grin offers him a shot. "He's a brat. I've said it for years. Drink - makes it easier."
Japan nearly throws the bowl to the counter. "He is not a brat. He is sick." He ignores the offered drink, stirring the pot of soup and seeking out more tofu, more onion. Greece needs more in his stomach than dashi. Breathing out slowly, he closes his eyes and tries to simmer down. He'll just stay for a little while longer and let the lovebirds get back to shouting at each other when he makes his exit.
Sadik actually flinches at the venom in Kiku's voice. Ah, damn. He is terrible at dealing with this sort of thing. He should've left Kiku to it, and then they wouldn't be dealing with this bizarre tension. "Look, Kiku, I never thought it would bother you. We didn't, ah...it's not like we're friends or anything, it's not like we lied." He throws back another shot.
Japan drops the ladle into the pot, almost wishing he could throw it somewhere, make it clatter. But he's never overemotional when he's angry. And he's not angry. Not really. He still turns on Sadik, fists falling to his hips. "It does not bother me," he snips, sounding very bothered. "You and Hera are none of my business, so it can't bother me. What does bother me is you. You continuing your little gripes and putting him down when he's sick—" 'And fucking him while he's well enough to kick your ass', he wants to say, but doesn't, just lets it hang there, unsaid. "Just get over yourself, for once, Sadik. If you hated him so much, I would not be here." He turns away then, bringing the soup back out to the room.
Turkey's mouth hangs open in complete shock. NO ONE talks to him like that. No one except for...he laughs. Well. That certainly explains a lot. Perhaps Japan is more like Greece than he would ever like to admit, at least on this level. And he's so defensive of the brat! Doesn't he see it's their way of coping? They make one another stronger, and serve as an outlet for...everything. Now they have Japan, too.
He smiles to himself, and starts after them. He moves much faster when he hears Japan calling Greece's name, a distinct note of panic in his voice. The soup is forgotten on the table, and Japan is kneeling on the floor beside the bed, trying to get a response from the man slumped over the side. Turkey doesn't bother to hide his concern; he runs to help Japan heft him fully back into the bed. "Think he fainted?"
"Hera-!" Kiku gasps, moving his arms onto the bed and feeling his forehead. "He's burning up. We need cold water and a cloth - can you get some? Please?" He looks to Sadik, then back to Hera, who looks ashen but is sweating like he's just jogged four miles. "Please, Sadik! And the medicine on the counter!" He pats Hera's cheek, trying to wake him enough to take something. "Hera, please!"
Sadik nods. "We'll find a way to get through to him."