Wow, this is a long chapter. My longest yet, actually. I'm really proud of it, both in length and content, and I hope you all like it as well! I know I promised it later, but I had too much time on my hands (via a long road trip). Not like it's a bad thing though.

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Hetalia, or it's characters. All rights go to their respective owners.

Talking on Paper

By IdiotFromOsaka

"The heart has it's reasons which reason knows nothing of." ~Blaise Pascal

After the first time, Herakles and Kiku visiting each others houses became some sort of routine. The two had developed an unspoken agreement between themselves: if neither had a lot of homework on any particular day, they would walk to one of their houses, presumably to work on the project.

Work, however, did not seem to want to be done. Kiku was only about half done with his painting at the time, and Herakles said that he was at about the same point on his drawing. (Kiku hadn't seen the portrait for himself yet; they both decided to keep the projects a secret from the other until they were completely finished.)

Kiku decided that the lack of progress was probably due to Herakles and himself taking a few too many breaks. And the fact that said breaks tended to turn into hour-long conversations about trivial things.

Kiku would be lying if he said didn't enjoy them, though.

It was approximately halfway into September now, and on this particular Wednesday, Kiku had invited Herakles to his home.

Both sat, cross-legged, on a familiar baby blue carpet that tickled Kiku's toes. Their backs leaned against the couch. Kiku wasn't quite sure why they had chosen this particular spot, or why they were on the ground instead of the couch, but Kiku noticed that Herakles seemed particularly comfortable on the carpet, with his shoulders hunched slightly over his knees and his fingers intertwining with the frayed woolen strands of the rug.

Kiku bent the dark green notebook in his hands. It was obvious that it wasn't new now. In fact, the notebook was at least one-fourth of the way filled. Impressive, considering that he hadn't owned it long. He blamed it on Herakles' large handwriting.

He opened the notebook, turning to the next clean page. Grabbing one of the pencils he had brought with him, he began to write.

Well, welcome to my home. Do you want something to eat? he asked, out of pure politeness.

Herakles grabbed the other pencil. No thanks, I'm good. He kept his pencil pressed to the paper as he looked back over his shoulder, towards their backpacks by the door. One second, he wrote. I want to show you something.

With that, Herakles stood up and made his way to his own backpack, an worn blue-grey thing that wasn't quite falling apart- not yet at least. Kiku could see a couple of small holes where a pencil or pen or something had poked through. It, like everything that seemed surround Herakles Karpusi, was a bit imperfect, but well-loved and comforting at the same time.

Herakles returned with a somewhat thick white packet in his hands, rolled into a tube. He sat back down, taking his pencil back into his grasp as he did, and unrolled the papers.

Kiku, well, Kiku wasn't quite sure what to think. At the top of the first page, printed in bolded letters, were the words American Sign Language 101.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Herakles had begun to write in the notebook.

Kiku looked over, and began to read. It's a sign language course at the community college that I'm going to take. I want it to be easier for us to talk, so I decided to sign up.

Kiku's chest swelled with warmth. He looked up at Herakles, such a sincere expression on his face, and could no longer contain the smile that had been building up in his cheeks.

In a moment of courage, he let his eyes lock with Herakles', and Kiku put a hand up to his own lips, just to pull it away. To some, it may have looked like he had blown a kiss, but Kiku knew the true meaning of the motion.

Herakles, head cocked, put his pencil to the notebook. What's that mean?

It mean's 'thank you'.

Herakles stared directly at Kiku now, brows creased slightly. Why are you thanking me? he wrote.

Kiku was still smiling (although he had pushed the smile into a much smaller state, without his teeth showing) as he pushed his bangs out of his line of vision. He could still feel something, something happy, warm, bubbling up inside of him. He gazed down at the words as he wrote. No one's ever done something like this for me. So thank you.

Herakles almost looked stunned as he read Kiku's words, eyes a little wider than usual. But the expression soon faded into a small, close-lipped smile. Well, you're welcome then.

There was a pause, a moment where they just sat and looked at each other, neither knowing quite what to say, but both content with just staring in each other's eyes. It wasn't awkward, not at all. It was comfortable; two people conversing without writing a word.

Kiku was the one to restart the conversation. So, do you know what you're going to learn?

Yeah, Herakles replied, pulling the packet back in his direction. He pointed to the first square of a table in the center of the page. This is what we're learning first.

Inside the square, in nice, arial print, were the words Day One: Hello, Goodbye, Spelling, and Names.

To Kiku at least, it seemed like a good introductory lesson. Not incredibly complicated, and it seemed like Herakles knew most of it anyway.

By the way, Herakles began, I've always wondered, isn't it hard having to spell out names every time?

Kiku looked back at the wavy-haired boy in slight disbelief. Well, this was why he was taking the class, wasn't it?

We don't do that, Kiku corrected. Well, not most of the time at least. We use name signs. They're… kind of like nicknames, in a way. He looked up, finding a slightly confused Herakles, lips pressed together. For example, my friend Feliciano has the sign for 'happy' for his name sign, because he's a very happy person, he scribed, trying to explain. And his brother's is the sign for 'punch' because he would always hit people when he was younger.

Herakles' eyes were a bit wider now, as he nodded. I think I kinda get it now. What's your sign? (Also, do your friends go to our school? I'm not sure I've hear that name before.)

To answer his first question, Kiku folded his fingers so they formed a K, and then brought the hand up to his ear, tapping the cartilage twice with his middle finger. He tried to do it a little slower than usual, hoping that Herakles would be able to follow. Herakles, staring intently as he did the motion, copied.

'Kiku.'

Kiku liked how it looked when Herakles did it.

He smiled, nodding in approval. He started writing. And no, my friends don't go to our school. They live across town, so I don't see them too often, and even then…

He immediately regretted those last few words. But it was far too late now, the words were written and Herakles had seen them. Erasing, no matter how little of the graphite was left, would do no good.

What is it?

Kiku looked up, letting his eyes meet Herakles'. Luckily, Herakles' eyes did not scream "Tell me!". Instead, with a flutter of his lashes, they whispered "You can tell me if you want to."

Kiku sighed, letting the warm air slip past his lips. I just feel like a third wheel sometimes. All the time. I don't know.

As he wrote these words, Kiku realized something. He brought a hand to his head, running his fingers through his thin hair. He bit his lip. And then he wrote.

I've never told anyone that before.

Herakles looked mildly surprised. Never?

Nope.

Herakles looked intently at him now. Kiku couldn't quite read his expression. Pity? Confusion? Then, one side of Herakles' lips indented, forming an almost-smile. I'll tell you a secret then. So we're even. Kiku did not see the logic behind this statement, but he went along with it anyway. Up until this year, I didn't have anyone I could call a good friend. There it was again. That pause. That moment. And I've never told anyone that before.

Herakles looked down at Kiku, a grateful smile on his face. Kiku smiled back.

Hey, Kiku.

Yes?

What do you think my name sign would be?

Kiku, who had actually been thinking about that question for a while, brought a hand up so it was in front of his face, fingertips facing him. Then, he moved the fingertips up and down without moving his wrist, like he was fanning himself.

What's that mean?

"Sleepy".

They both laughed.

oOoOo

After a bit more time of writing back and forth, the pair finally convinced themselves that they needed to work. It was Herakles' turn to model. They set up at the kitchen table, with Herakles in one of the cherry-stained chairs so that Kiku saw his profile. Kiku had dragged out an old easel from the basement (with a little help), and set up his painting on the structure,

The painting looked pretty good, in Kiku's opinion. He had already put in a background, a soft, blue-green color, and most of Herakles' face was finished. He just had to add some highlights and shadows (the latter of which he had added some blue into, as he thought it reflected Herakles' personality nicely).

He picked up a brush. It was one of the thinest he owned, mostly used for detail. He dipped the small brush in a pool of white paint, then brushed the paint on the side of the paper plate he was using for mixing. He did the same with magenta and yellow, and even a bit of brown. Then a bit more white.

Kiku brushed a bit of the mixture on the canvas, right on the top of Herakles' cheeks. He moved the paint in an up-and-down motion, letting it mix in with the rest of the painting's colors. He added a bit more magenta.

Kiku looked towards the real Herakles now, focusing on his eyes. They were half open, emerald irises peeking out from under the lids. Kiku went back to mixing, attempting to create the perfect shade of green. Kiku wanted, if anything, to get the eyes perfect. You could see so much about Herakles by looking into his eyes.

Whoever said that the eyes were the windows to the soul was right.

There it was, Kiku thought as he finished adding a bit of white to the mixture. His chest swelled with joy from finding the correct color and putting it to canvas. He waited a bit after brushing it into the correct area, waiting for it to dry.

Kiku looked up once more, this time letting his eyes go to Herakles' hair. He allowed his gaze to trace every wave, every stray strand of hair. Kiku added a bit of highlighting to the hair in the painting.

He worked a bit longer, until he felt the face was almost finished.

His favorite part was the eyes.

As Kiku put the finishing stroke on Herakles' face, he moved his neck so that he looked past the easel. Herakles had fallen asleep. Well, it was probably time for a break anyway.

Kiku stood up and began to walk towards the sleeping boy, careful to avoid bumping into the easel. This part of the floor was wooden, cool against his feet. Not quite as cool as the tile in Herakles' house, but chilly all the same. Kiku stopped as he found himself right in front of Herakles. Even when sitting down, Herakles was fairly tall, Kiku barely a head taller than him. But Kiku was also rather short.

He squatted down, so that he was a bit below face-to-face with Herakles. They were an odd pair, Kiku thought, different in almost every aspect.

Herakles was tall where Kiku was short. Kiku's hair was straight while Herakles' was wavy. Herakles was tanned, and Kiku was pale. Herakles had a build, while Kiku was thin, bony. And then there was personality. Herakles was a dreamer, Kiku could tell. He did not mind spending his days sleeping. Behind that quiet, sleepy demeanor, Kiku could see a busy mind, okay with being separate from reality.

Kiku wasn't like that. He tried to keep himself grounded in the real world, alert. Sure, he was a thinker. But his mind wasn't separate from reality.

He envied Herakles Karpusi.

But it seemed that they made a good pair.

In the friendship sense, that is.

It was then that Kiku realized how close he was to Herakles. It unnerved him a bit, but he also didn't really care. It almost felt... nice. Kiku lifted up a single hand, bringing his bony fingers closer to the sleeping boy's face. It was so easy, to just reach out and touch him. So simple. So he did.

Kiku could feel his hand jitter slightly as the pads of his fingers brushed against Herakles' cheek. He let himself caress his face, running his fingers over his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his lips...

It'd be so easy, just to reach out and kiss them-

No. Nonononono. Kiku quickly pulled his hand away, like he had just touched a burning stove. He stood up and backed away from Herakles.

He shouldn't think like that. He couldn't think like that.

Kiku rested a harsh hand on Herakles' shoulder, thanking every god he knew of that Herakles was a deep sleeper. He shook the boy awake.

oOoOo

The two, after Kiku had announced that he was about done for the day, decided to hang out for a bit longer, with Kiku doing his best to forget forget forget and Herakles being absolutely oblivious. They wrote back and forth, about trivial things: teachers, weather, books, mythology (they both agreed that the Ancient Greeks did it best), cats, food, places they had never been.

And during that time, Kiku could not help but feel completely content.

They were currently discussing the pros and cons of going to Australia (both agreed it could get pretty hot, but it might be worth it to see the reefs), when Herakles, about to write, lifted his head up swiftly, tilted toward the door. Kiku looked past the other boy. There was a woman in the doorway now.

Kiku's mother. Her eyes met her son's, and she signed, 'Hello, Kiku. How was your day? Is this your friend?'

Kiku signed back. 'Hello. My day was good. This is my friend, H-E-R-A-K-L-E-S, he told her, and then customarily showed her Herakles' sign name.

Kiku picked up his pencil once more, jotting a note to the other boy. Herakles, this is my mother.

Herakles, sleepy as ever, blinked twice, then nodded. He looked back at the woman, a petite lady with dark, shoulder-length hair and tired eyes. He stood up, extending a hand, and Ms. Honda smiled, small wrinkles appearing on her face.

Kiku watched from his place on the rug as the two clasped their hands together and shook. Herakles' lips moved, the corners of said lips pulled into a slight smile. His mother's lips moved in response, but in a slightly different manner and for a longer period.

'So,' Ms. Honda began to sign, moving her lips along with her hands, 'Have you two gotten some work done on your project?'

Herakles and Kiku shared a sidelong glance. 'Yes, a little,' Kiku responded, noticing that his mother had begun interpreting. 'We're just talking now.'

HIs mother sent a curious glance in Kiku's direction, eyes falling on the open notebook in front of him. 'On paper?' Her eyebrows were raised slightly as she moved her hands. Both boys nodded. Ms. Honda smirked in reply, nodding her head. 'Clever.'

She set her purse on the kitchen table as she walked further into the house, taking her heels off as she went. She entered the kitchen, making her way to the refrigerator. She opened the door. Kiku shivered at the blast of cold air.

'Would you like to stay for dinner, Herakles?' Ms. Honda asked politely, eyes scanning through the shelves of the refrigerator as she signed.

'Sorry, I can't,' Herakles replied. Kiku sighed a little as he noticed how far apart Herakles and his mother were. Reminded him of art class. He looked back to Herakles after his mother finished signing, trying to pick up his expression. 'I have to go to my job.'

Kiku was slightly dumbstruck at the statement. He couldn't quite picture Herakles Karpusi, possibly the laziest person on the face of the earth, with a job. Well, at least a job that didn't involve cats. (He could quite easily picture Herakles working at a pet store, only to stay where the cats were kept all day.)

Kiku decided to ask. 'What job do you have?'

Herakles' mouth opened, and Kiku's gaze quickly returned to his mother. 'I just got a job at that little gyro shop on 93rd street.' When he looked back, Herakles had gathered his stuff. A dull wooden pencil stuck out of one of his backpack's holes.

'Okay, see you tomorrow then?'

Herakles nodded, lips forming into a soft smile. He opened the door, walking backwards for a couple steps so he could wave goodbye. Pulling the other strap of his backpack over his shoulder, he turned around, still smiling as he went.

The door closed.

Kiku looked back to his mother, who had pulled out a bag of frozen noodles from the freezer. She dropped them on he kitchen's island and began to sign to Kiku.

'You decided to call him 'sleepy'?' she asked, smiling playfully.

Kiku shrugged. 'It fits.'

oOoOo

Kiku yawned as he stretched out his legs, his toes grabbing the folds of his bedsheets. He liked the feeling of the crisp sheets against his feet. The thought didn't last long in his head, however, as his attention immediately returned to the small screen in front of him.

He grasped his Nintendo DS tighter. A random trainer (some Pokémon breeder or something) had spotted him, and now he was forced into a battle. Kiku had never quite gotten the logic of this, but he supposed it did help build up HP and experience. Luckily, Kiku had just recently stocked up on potions and revives, so he was ready for just about anything.

Real-world Kiku found that he had slipped pretty far down on his pillow, so he dug his elbows into his mattress and pushed himself up.

Kiku's bedroom was a rather normal place. There was a bed, with a solid red duvet and white sheets, diagonal from a wooden desk in the corner. The walls were completely blue, and from them hung a couple posters (mostly ones with characters from various animes). There was a bookshelf beside the desk, filled with everything from books to video games to small knick-knacks that Kiku had picked up.

Kiku Honda was, admittedly, a bit of an otaku.

He smirked at the screen. The other trainer only had one Pokémon, and it happened to be a fire-type. Luckily for Kiku, his strongest monster was a water-type. His opponent was out with one hit.

Virtual Kiku, now with a bit more money, along with experience, wandered away from the defeated trainer and towards a mansion. There were no trainers on the way, and his mind began to wander.

He thought of that day. He though of school, of homework. But mostly, he thought of Herakles.

Kiku thought of his eyes. They were beautiful, in Kiku's opinion. Magnetic, almost. And his smile- never overbearing or energy filled (the thought reminded him of a certain Feliciano Vargas), but calm. Sweet. Kiku liked the way it looked when Herakles signed his name, he liked how he was always a little unsure when he finger-spelled. He liked how they could go back and forth for hours.

Kiku stopped, nearly dropping his DS. The words felt a lot more familiar than they should.

Hadn't Feliciano said something similar when he had told Kiku of his crush on Ludwig?

And hadn't Ludwig said something similar when he told Kiku that he had a crush on Feliciano?

Kiku's brow furrowed. He couldn't deal with this at the moment. He turned his attention back to the game.

Virtual Kiku had found his way into the central 'garden' of the mansion, which was basically a patch of tall grass surrounded by the mansion's walls. He had been wandering in a circle for about three minutes now. He knew that this area was home to some rare Pokémon, and was hoping to catch one, maybe two.

Suddenly, the screen changed. Kiku knew that it meant battle. In one grassy circle was his starting monster, a flying-type, and the first he had ever caught. From the other, a figure sprung up out of the ground. A wild… Pikachu?

Kiku frowned. He knew he was at a disadvantage here. Most of the monsters in his crew would do terribly against an electric-type, but still…

He may never get this chance again.

Kiku let out a heavy sigh, harshly shutting the controller. He couldn't take this. Real life was confusing enough, his virtual life didn't need to be too.

Setting the DS on his bedside table, Kiku turned off his lamp. He just wanted to roll up in his sheets now. He wanted to dream. He wanted to forget.

However, his thoughts would not let him rest. Because every time he closed his eyes, his brain liked to remind him that his feelings towards Herakles didn't seem exactly platonic. That his thoughts sounded an awful lot like what Ludwig and Feliciano had said. That his actions earlier were not at all like what a friend would do, and-

Shit.

Kiku had never been one to cuss, not even to himself, but he felt the word was appropriate in his current situation.

Because shit shit shit shit shit.

He had a crush on Herakles Karpusi.

And there we go! I have to say, I think this is my favorite chapter so far. Mostly because it contains a couple scenes I've been waiting quite a while to write. And the introduction of Ms. Honda. (Yes, there's a reason why she's a Ms. All will be explained soon enough.) By the way, she's just an OC, not a nation.

A couple notes: That feeling of joy that Kiku gets from mixing the right color? It happens, not making it up. I paint, and it happens to me all the time. Let me tell you, that feeling is awesome.

The game that Kiku is playing (with the exception of a few details) is Pokémon Diamond. Or Pearl. They're basically the same thing, so take your pick. That mansion actually exists, and does indeed have a garden that is all tall grass with a bunch of Pikachus. Pikachus, while rather well known, are extremely hard to find in that game.

As for which types of Pokémon are good against which types… I'm too lazy to write it all out, so if you really want to know, Google it. (If you haven't noticed by now, yes, I have a minor obsession with Pokémon.)

Well, that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm going to try to update by mid-February at the latest.

P.S. I'd love to know what you guys think about this chapter (and the story in general), so reviews are very welcome.