AN: WooHoo two posts in one day! Kinda short, but whatevs.
GREECE + ROME AND APRON (jfdsjfkjlf)
It was a sleepy Greece (what other kinds are there?) that walked into his kitchen in the dead of night to find a grown man in a dress rummaging through his refrigerator.
"You really shouldn't bother." Greece felt the need to point out to him. "I haven't been shopping in weeks."
"Hm?" The man turned to look at Greece with a turkey leg sticking out of his mouth. "'as m'k."
Greece stopped short and squinted. The sleep fog cleared out of his mind long enough to register that things were Not As They Should Be. "Rome?"
"What's up?" Rome said. "Got any beer?"
Xxxxxxxxxxx
"Am I dreaming?" Greece decided he might as well get that one out of the way.
"Do you dream about me often?" Rome asked, tickling Greece's chin like he used to when he was smaller.
"I guess not then."
"I just came back to see how my sweet little Italy's doing." Rome said, leaning back on the couch and smiling at Greece. "He's living with some guy who looks a lot like Germania."
"Yeah, I know." Greece said. "I always thought that was strange. He's Prussia's brother, you know."
"No kidding?" Rome laughed. "They're nothing alike! You'd think Prussia could produce at least a cool brother to take care of my grandson. . . Oh, whatever. So," He turned back to Greece with a sultry smile that was all too familiar to him. "Have you missed me much?"
"Not really." Greece said. "I'm surrounded by the things you and my mother left behind, so I don't really get lonely."
"Oh, well that's good, I suppose."
"It's actually kind of annoying—"
"Do you miss when I would do this?"
Greece was hardly ever rendered speechless. This was one of the three times in his life it had happened (FYI: 1st: Alexander the Great died [literally] of exhaustion, 2nd: Japan took off his own thumb, and 3rd: Rome goosed him on his living room couch some 1700 years after he'd died).
"I think I'll go make some coffee."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Greece had still been in the body of a child in his Golden Age. It had bothered him at the time, but now he saw it was because he still had a long life to live out. Others like Rome, though, who were strong and tall, peaked at that point in their lives and died shortly after.
Rome had come, pushed Greece off his pedestal, shown on it for the shortest of times, then promptly hurled himself off it as well. Seeing him now was . . . it felt. . .
The mere fact that Greece would even think of making coffee is a testament to how awkward a situation he's in. Greece detests coffee and what it does to the body. He hates the way it makes him feel; like his skin is running with electricity that can only escape through his twitching fingers. But coffee he is making now, at three in the morning, for his long dead superior (it's the best term he can come up with for Rome —he's not his elder, he's not his master, he's not his brother, they were hardly even friends). There were so many things Just Not Right with this picture.
"Are you wearing an apron?"
Greece scowled. "Yes. That's what apron's are for. So your clothes won't get dirty while you're cooking. How do you even know what they are, anyway?"
In lieu of answering, Rome simply dropped a magazine on the counter next to the coffee pot. On the cover was a curvy girl wearing only an apron with icing smeared all over her face and looking just thrilled about it. Greece blushed and looked away (sex is bland, remember?). "Where did you get that?" He certainly didn't own anything like it.
"I picked it up while I was at Germany's house." Rome said casually. "He acts like he's all good and proper, but I knew he was hiding something." He smirked. "He better not be trying any of this sick shit on my grandson."
"Well, aprons aren't just for kinky sex. They're also for cooking in. No —they are primarily for cooking in. It is actually a very small percentage of the general population that prefers apron-sex over apron-cooking."
"Well, I still think it looks good on you." Rome smirked. His arms snaked around Greece's middle. "Hey, about a quick one for the road?"
"Stop, please." Greece sighed, closing his eyes. "You shouldn't even be here." Since when had he become so obsessed with What Should Be and What Should Not Be? Probably when What Should Not Be was Rome trying to have sex with him in his kitchen at three in the morning (let me stress the three in the morning here).
"So?" Rome whispered in his ear. "Since when did you become so obsessed with What Should Be and What Should Not Be? You became a real stick in the mud, didn't you?"
Greece cursed Rome's ability to mimic his every thought. "Fuck you. I'm not a necromancer."
Rome was quiet for a moment, and then said. "Not only was that an oxymoron, but, uh . . . Do you mean necrophile?"
"Oh, yeah. That. I'm not that."
Rome sighed. "Whatever happened to the good old days when we would just hang out, having sex whenever we pleased?"
"Do you mean with each other, or just in general?" Greece asked.
"What do you think I mean?" Rome asked, then kissed him.
Xxxxxxxxxxxx
"Hey, when I wake up, are you going to be gone?"
Rome smiled a little sadly and slipped an arm around Greece's stomach. "Yes, unfortunately."
"Oh. That's sort of depressing." But it was nice to be held while lying in bed. He'd missed this.
"Are you going to admit your going to miss me when I'm gone?" Rome teased, nuzzling his ear. He's unusually cuddly, Greece thought. I must be dreaming after all.
". . . Yeah. I guess a little."
Rome kissed him on the nose like he used to when he was a kid. "Well, it was nice to get our goodbyes out the way this time then."
"I guess your right." Greece smiled then. Just a little.
"It's kind of like closure."
"Kind of."
"I like that you wore the apron. It's pretty cute."
"Yeah, and it kept me clean."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next time Greece opened his eyes, Rome was gone, and he wasn't wearing the apron anymore. He sighed and closed his eyes. What a weird dream. He'd have to ask Japan about it later. He was a real expert in things like this.
Suddenly, the smell of coffee drifted towards his nose.