November at Greece's home blew in with violent gusts of rain and wind, sending the cats running for dry land and our two particular lovebirds deep into his house, under blankets, lying for hours as Heracles felt the baby kick and they listened to the constant drone of the rain on the roof, the waves in the faraway bay. It didn't matter whether it was day or night, they slept and kept each other awake and roamed around anyway, no matter the hour. The sky was dark and pearly all the time. They couldn't see the stars for how heavy the rain fell.
They ate whatever they could find in the cupboard, because Heracles couldn't drive to the market in such awful weather and Kiku couldn't fit properly behind the steering wheel. They went outside only to run to the safety of the neighbor's homes, where they were always greeted with well-wishes, steaming plates of food and young nieces clamoring to get a feel at their odd new friend's tummy. Heracles had explained to Kiku later - I've known their families for generations, they know all about me. I just told them that you being able to get pregnant is a part of who we are. And... For the record, they like you a lot.
It was a dark and stormy night when Greece finally realized that he was in love.
Before all of that, however, the weather was warm and humid as usual, if not for the muted bite of autumn chill in the air. Japan was out in the garden - if you could call it that.
Though Greece put forth a surprising amount of work into it, the scattered plots of dirt encased by stone and other junk too big to drag into the house made it less of a garden, more like a very colorful, surprisingly organic backyard 'space'. He liked flowers and general pretty things more than vegetables, preferring that everything just grow as it grows rather than bothering with much work. The only food-producing plants he tended were tomatoes, and even then the harvest was always small.
Surprisingly, Japan seemed to like it quite a bit, often spending hours outside wandering around, Pochi-kun following loyally at his heels. Occasionally he would work out there, in a sort of peace-induced trance deadheading flowers or digging out weeds. When Greece joined him they worked together in a simple harmonic silence, punctuated by the sounds of birds and, when they were very lucky, the knocks of unexpected visitors.
They had been doing just that - snipping off the crusty remains of once-beautiful heliotrope flowers - when the usual few knocks on the door and then yelling as he barged in made America's presence obvious. Greece and Japan had just looked at each other, sighs in their eyes - who goes to entertain him now?
After a moment of intense optical debate, Heracles gave up and stood, brushing the dirt off of his pants and heading back into the house; he called for Alfred once and found him in the kitchen, raiding the fridge.
"Geez, dude! Where's all the good food?" he whined, shutting the fridge and heading for the cabinet. After a minute of searching, apparently finding nothing there either, he turned and happened to glance at the dishes in the sink; he stared incredulously.
Undone dishes.
In Japan's home.
"Whoa! What's wrong with him? I thought being preggo would make him want to do dishes!"
Greece shrugged, idly wondering that himself. "He says that he's too tired... I don't blame him, really... And, well, I don't really like doing that sort of thing... Cleaning." He bit out the last word in the exact same way a teenager would when saying school.
"Huh." America then planted his hands on his hips as he looked around at the slight clutter, some sort of American Enthusiasm For Work leaking through the shield of laziness and unproductive 'heroism' he was so famous for.
The enthusiasm wasa brand of attitude and work ethic that was seen during only dire times... and maybe when something was in it for him. Alfred was known for being an utter teenager when faced with work he didn't want to do, often never doing it and writing off any and all importance with a nonchalant - "it'll be fiiine."
"Well, if he's too tired and, uh, pregnant to do anything, then let's do it for him! Train you to be a husband!" America flashed his dazzling smile before it fell just a bit.
"... Do you have an apron I could borrow?"
"I don't know how you rope me into these things..." Greece muttered, scrubbing at dishes while his companion took them to be dried and put away. They'd already finished tidying the kitchen; the whole time Heracles swore and dropped passive aggressive comments under his breath.
Alfred smiled wordlessly, glancing briefly out the window over the sink. Through it, they could see a glimpse of Japan, still working calmly, obviously relieved to be free of any social obligation.
They finished washing the dishes in partial silence - to Greece it was nice and relaxing, to America, uneasy and forced - before the younger nation spoke up.
"So, what're you guys gonna do once he pops?"
"Oh..." Greece hummed, glancing up through the window himself. "I don't know. Probably live together for a while... while the baby is still young... I mean, I'd love to be with him for... as long as possible, forever even, but I don't know if he would be comfortable with that."
"WOAH." America interrupted very suddenly, surprise scribbled all over his face. "What're you saying, you don't know?"
"Hmmm?"
Giving Heracles the look he did whenever someone tried to explain that Austria wasn't by New Zealand (and the landmass about him was called 'Canada'), Alfred pressed on: "he loves you! Adores you, even! Geez! It's so obvious, even Tony could see it, and ... and even me! Otherwise he wouldn't even be here! Dude. Seriously?"
Greece blinked; blinked, and blinked again, the shadowy full feeling of a mood coming over him slowly, like storm clouds settling over an open plain. It was sure to be an afternoon of reclusion and thought.
"You don't say..." he murmured airily, already dipping back into the rooms of brooding and consideration in his mind, those that his real home so closely mirrored.
For someone so carefully introspective, insightful and observant, a surprising amount of things happened to pass right over Greece's head, some never even registering at all. While pondering the beauty of the color green, he wouldn't even notice that the leaf was poisonous, or not a leaf at all; he could be sitting at church and admiring the beauty of a stained glass window, not once noticing when he was supposed to stand or lean in for prayer or really, anything else.
However common and inconvenient the bouts of deep pondering and wonder were, he had always trusted that he'd pick up on all the big things as needed. And he did, master of observation he was - nobody went through a breakup or got a handjob under the table at a meeting without Heracles noticing. If only in passing, though; rarely, if ever, did he actually care enough to remember such information actively. Years take a toll on the brain, even one of a nation.
Japan, of course, proved once again to be the only exception to the stone-set rule.
Nuances and subtleties of Kiku's personality were like gems buried in the ground, always prizes when found. Over the many years of their relationship, Heracles was fairly sure that he knew more about the other than anyone else - such information like where he was ticklish or how he liked to be kissed, especially.
Who else, though, knew that his passions for anime and manga could run so high as to keep him up for weeks, as he waited for the next episode (or chapter)? That he hid erotic manga next to books on the history of Islam and novels about women getting married; that he could work himself up to crying over something as small as a cockroach?
In general, too, nobody else was as good as Greece at reading Japan's emotions. Even the slightest tilt of an eyebrow or stiffness of the spine could mean a world of difference, the dividing line between annoyance and discomfort.
Something so big as love could be communicated simply; how long Kiku's hands would linger on Greece's own, the way he looked at him, how often and how genuinely he smiled. At least, that was the plan, that was the mathematical formula.
Greece hated grocery shopping, he really did.
Normally, he had all the time he wanted, to chat and flirt with market keepers; when he did, it was always more about socializing with pleasant citizens than spending more money he didn't have on food he didn't really need (however much he loved it). Today, though, Japan had sent him out with a budget, list, and time limit; he'd professed that he would have to get used to doing such things quickly, in order to come back and help again with the baby as quickly as possible...
Heracles staggered through the front door with barely five minutes to spare, carrying the bags so precariously only someone such as he, so used to the floorplan of his home, would be able to deposit them safely on the counter. He did so, stopping to look around for the other. Kiku nowhere to be seen, his mood fell a little; Heracles was actually looking forward to getting the job done right, like a child would look forward to showing their mother some gorgeous art they had made.
Further investigation showed that Japan was in his - their - room, sitting seiza on the bed, a dazed, completely exhausted look on his face. He was staring at the wall, apparently trying to pull his whole self back into the waking world; he had to have fallen asleep sitting up. All around him were neatly folded piles of laundry, organized to his perfectionistic and near-obsessive tastes.
"Ah... Kiku?" Greece asked, wondering if maybe he could get him to take a quick nap together - in the state he was in, he would agree to do virtually anything.
- Ah, too bad! As if a spell was broken upon hearing his name, Japan snapped to attention, awake and alert. After taking a few seconds to gather his wits and bearings, he looked around at the mess of clothing, to Pochi-kun (who was keeping watch, perched on a stack of t-shirts), and finally to Greece, who hovered hesitatingly at the doorway.
A small, gentle smile flitted across his face, before he could stop it. Rubbing his eye, he yawned: "Ah, good afternoon, Heracles... I apologize; I must have accidentally fallen asleep... again… What time is it?"
Nodding a 'good afternoon' back as he stepped into the room, a quick glance at the clock told that it was about four o' clock - Heracles repeated as much.
"I know it's late, but... would you like to have lunch, and siesta, Kiku?" he asked softly, extending a hand, figuring that now was as good a time as ever to test what he knew, somewhere inside, was true.
As the cool, slim hand slowly slid into his, Heracles smiled; it was the feeling of completion, the last puzzle piece fitting snugly into place. Now all he had to do was step back and get a good look at the whole picture.
It was true.
As mind-boggling as America being right about something (for once) was, after much careful thought and consideration, Greece finally just knew that he was in love.
It wasn't a completely mind blowing realization; more like the completion again, the accomplishment of discovering something he had known all along. Love was tucked into his slow courting, his patience; his adoration of Japan's quirks and flaws and smile and scars and hair and everything possible, everything about and related to him. That's what Heracles' love was. Acceptance and adoration, completely and totally.
I love Honda Kiku, to him, was as natural (albeit thrilling) to think as I hate Turkey. It was just right.
Maybe he was born to love Japan. His mother had told him, long ago, that he, too, had been split as a soul by the frightened Zeus. Like the humans, he was destined to wander the earth alone, in search of his other half. And, finally, he had found his. The juxtaposition was perfect, they fit together in each other's curves and bends like cats over a heater in the middle of December.
I like doing things slowly, spontaneously. He strongly prefers plans and routines.
I'm not very responsible with ... anything, really. He would die if he were to miss an appointment, payment, or obligation.
I have blue eyes, he has dark; my skin is tanned, his is white. He is small and I am not.
And now, Heracles thought with a smile, we're bound forever.
One particularly warm night they lay awake, as they did sometimes, listening to the radio as it cut in and out, reporting news of general misfortune. More than ever Greece felt the ache of it in his bones; as if it would alleviate the pressure of his people suffering, he got up and switched the station to something that sung out classical music in a scratchy, blipping voice. The familiarity was wonderful, comforting.
"H-Heracles..." Japan murmured, as soon as he felt the depression of the Greek's weight again in the mattress.
"If it isn't too much trouble, could you get me some water? And perhaps... something to eat? While you're up..."
Greece had nodded and headed into the other room to find whatever he could. Two glasses of water, some crackers and a jar of olives whose age he had no idea of was all he could scavenge, but he figured that it was good enough. Kiku wouldn't complain, anyway; they could always go to the 24-hour convenience store, if need be.
When he returned, however, the other was sitting up against the headboard, pink face screaming internal debate! Deciding it'd be best to ask later, Heracles sat on the bed and offered what he had, a humble tilt to his head. After profuse thanks Kiku devoured it all, not even stopping to let Greece have some; the baby demanded he eat, and hell, it demanded he eat everything. Right now.
"So..." Greece began after a moment, quirking his lips as he thought how best to ask it - before he could go in and ask what he'd been thinking about, though, he inevitably re - noticed Japan's belly.
The familiar feeling of overwhelming love and wonder washing over him, he leaned forward, murmuring a quick apology before he lifted the hem of Kiku's t-shirt. Underneath it, his skin was warm and pale and completely miraculous, and under that...
Over his belly button a soft, loving kiss was pressed. "Your mama is so funny..." he murmured into the skin, as Japan berated himself for being such a coward for not saying what he so obviously needed to the most.
A dark and stormy night, and once and for all, it was love; love for words, for staying together, into some future that maybe resembled 'forever'.
Greece had been out all day at a long, mind-bogglingly boring meeting with England. As he tried not to stare at all of the specimens of insects from around the world that were hung on the wall, he and Arthur had cut a deal, of sorts.
Whatever bad comes of this, you take responsibility. No exceptions, no matter what. Figuring that it was fair enough, Greece agreed, leaving calmly with two green eyes boring holes into his back.
Attempting not to get soaked in the sudden downpour that Zeus decided to release that evening, Heracles did his best to dash quickly as possible from the car to the house. It was in vain, though; he still had to dry his hair and strip naked of his completely soaked clothing. At the last minute he grabbed and put on a pair of boxers he found in the basket of clothes that had yet to be folded, knowing that Kiku wouldn't appreciate him walking in completely naked, and sort of damp. Wearing only this, he yawned and wandered up the stairs and into the bedroom, the idea of getting some sleep a stronger pull than anything else.
Japan was in there, already asleep. The light was on, however, and the radio was too. He must have passed out again... he was becoming more and prone to doing so, as the baby got heavier and lower, and had more fun wriggling around as much as possible at normal sleeping times.
He was about to switch off the light when he noticed something. Kiku was wearing one of Heracles' bigger t-shirts, one hand up to bring the collar closer to his nose. The expression on his face was happy, loving even, completely unguarded and uncensored. Perfect.
Staring almost incredulously, Greece inched up to the bed - Japan didn't wake up, and probably wouldn't. As soon, though, as he sat down and attempted to arrange himself comfortably around the other, said man's eyes twitched and eventually fluttered open. He whispered his name, not realizing what was happening, pinking simply on instinct.
Confident in moving around and rearranging himself now that Kiku was somewhat awake, Heracles cuddled in and wrapped his arms around him as best as he could, pressing a kiss to the middle of his forehead. There was no hesitation, only what was right.
"Go back to sleep, agapi... have sweet dreams. I love you."
"Oh, hai, I've been..." he stifled a yawn, eyelashes already flicking back together, speech slurred from sleep: "…meaning to tell you... I ... I love you ... too."
His eyes flew open immediately then, his face red and getting darker, bordering on purple; it was so obvious; did I really just say that? Was running through his mind, over and over and over and over, unrelenting. In normal circumstances, he probably would have considered seppuku.
Greece, however, just chuckled softly and tightened his hold, murmuring Japan to a state of semi-calm.
"I had a feeling you'd say that."