(So sorry for the long wait! I finally finished that oneshot so I could get back to this fic, but I've also been working on an original novel, so I'm a bit stretched. Anyway, I'm betting this story will continue for longer than I originally predicted. Perhaps somewhere around the twenty-chapter mark, but only time will tell.)

CHAPTER II

Kiku Honda tried with difficulty to keep his heavy head off his desk, the effects of the energy drink having worn off and leaving him more exhausted than before. He knew, oh, he knew that the caffeine couldn't keep him going for too long and the crash would be brutal and unforgiving, yet he couldn't bring himself to quit. Part of him wondered if it would be worse to be addicted to coffee or energy drinks, both of which he could not live without. Thinking of it further, he contemplated if an addiction to the controversial product known as Four Loko would be worse. Most likely so considering it was equivalent to gulping down several beers and cups of coffee. Still, all those caffeinated beverages he downed in a day couldn't be too good for his health (or sanity, for that matter), but the Japanese man was wrapped around their aluminum fingers.

To make it worse, Gilbert was currently bitching to him about his relationship troubles.

"Our boss is such a douche bag," Gilbert complained, taking a swig of Monster Energy. "Out of all the people in this department, the morons who lick his boots like he's friggin' God, he just had to choose Birdie. The bastard knows I've been pursuing him for months, ever since Birdie transferred here, but no. He thinks that just because he's the manager, he can have whoever he wants. If the boss could fire me for flirting with Birdie, I know he would at the drop of a hat. Power ruins people, my man. Remember that. 'Course, I can't say I wouldn't do the same if I was in that position."

"Please do not take offense to this…" Kiku began, his face plastered to the graphite of his drawing and likely smudging it, "but I don't think criticizing your boss is an effective way to progress your career."

The albino scoffed, his lips curled into a snake-like smirk as he asked, "Oh, really? Last time I checked, falling asleep at your desk doesn't help your job either." Mulling on his words, Gilbert continued, "Actually, I should be getting back to work. I don't know if Al told you yet, being the douche he is, but the big guy is paying Marketing a visit today."

"I vaguely remember hearing that…somewhere…"

"All right, well, you better find a way to stay awake. Wouldn't want you to lose your job for being 'unproductive' or some shit like that." Gilbert grabbed his drink with one hand and ruffled Kiku's black hair with the other. "Get one of those Energy Shooters, man. The awesome me commands it." With that, he walked off to his cubicle, his obnoxious laughter ringing through the air. Kiku just groaned, too tired to get up and shoot more caffeine into his system.

He sluggishly tried to capture the pencil and continue drawing, but considering he was having enough trouble with the weight of his head, all he could manage were a few aimless scribbles. Frustrated, he released his grip and accepted defeat. The all-nighter had gotten the better of him and from the looks of it, it was not letting go anytime soon.

Just five minutes…Kiku thought, struggling just to process the words of his mind. Just give me five minutes and I'll get back to work.

Yet, as he drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep, slumped over the hard surface of his desk, the thought of setting an alarm did not occur to him. And so five minutes passed, as did ten, twenty, and thirty…the time stretching past an hour…

. . .

Alfred F. Jones sat anxiously in his office, winding the wheels of toy cars as he waited for the arrival of the CEO. The impending visit was gnawing at his nerves, so he tried to relieve the stress through the small racecars speeding across his desk. The car all ready, Alfred set it down and watched it dash off and flip over on the carpeted floor. He retrieved the toy and struck its wheels against the wooden desktop like a tricky match, one, two, three.

There was something so relaxing in the crick of the tires, the way the spring released and sent the toy car soaring, his troubles a simple ribbon tied to the bumper. It was a routine, a pattern that eased the burdens of his mind: rewind, reset, release, repeat. Rewind, reset, release, repeat. Rewind-

The phone rang abruptly and tore Alfred from his trance, forcing his reacquaintance with reality. Suppressing a groan, he lightly pressed the flashing button and ordered, "Speak to me, Barbara."

"Mr. Jones, Mr. Karpusi has arrived."

Ah, the moment of truth. "All right, tell him I'll be right down."

"Yes, Mr. Jones."

Hanging up the phone, Alfred sighed and hurried out of his office, wanting not to make the man wait. After all, he was the big guy, the CEO; the one that made the Opa!-Cola corporation possible. Jabbing the "down" button on the wall, he impatiently tapped his foot as the elevator rose to service him. Even more… he thought, jumping as the doors opened and rushing inside, only to collide with another person. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, only to realize he had run into Matthew.

Even more, without this job, I never would've met Matthew.

"Oh! Mattie, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there."

"It's okay," Matthew replied with a shy smile as he realigned his askew glasses.

"No, it's not okay! You could be hurt! Are you hurt?"

"No, really, I'm fine. It happens all the time."

"Um, all right then." The elevator doors started to close, but Alfred stuck his foot in between. Biting his cheek as he stuck his hands in his pocket, he began, "Um, so, did you just get back from your lunch break?"

"O-Oh, yeah, um, sorry," Matthew apologized, nervously twirling a blonde lock. "I was meeting an old friend of mine and we just lost track of time. I'll work overtime tonight to make up for it if you want."

Waving it off, Alfred assured him, "Don't sweat it. Just get down to work. The CEO just got here, so I'm gonna be showing him around."

"Oh. Oh, okay, well, thank you, Mr. Jones- I mean, A-Alfred! I'll do that."

"No problem. So, um, yeah, I have to go."

"Right, right, okay." Matthew paused in the doorway of the elevator, taking in a breath. Turning around, he said, "Um, Alfred?"

Surprised, his manager looked up from the buttons for different floors. "Yes?"

"G-Good luck with the CEO's visit," Matthew told him, a faint blush present on his cheeks.

Before Alfred could reply, the Canadian ran off to his cubicle and the doors closed. The man was left to sigh and massage his forehead as the elevator began its descent to the lobby. "God, that little minx."

No, no, no, this is no time for distractions, he thought, attempting to clear his head. Gotta stay focused on the big guy. Gotta focus. Gotta focus…

The silver doors parted and Alfred walked through, slapping on an insincerely confident smile. Glancing over to his secretary's desk, the marketing manager's blue eyes lit up with recognition. There was a man with brown hair, the chin-length waves framing his calm face. Bingo.

"Mr. Karpusi!" Alfred greeted him as he strolled across the tile. "It's good to see you again!"

Heracles Karpusi nodded slowly, his gaze somewhat blank as Alfred grabbed his hand and shook it violently. "Good to see you, too…" he replied in a soft voice, his olive green eyes staring pensively at his palm.

"All right, Barbara, I'll take it from here." The American gave his secretary a wink before dragging the CEO off to the elevator. "So, Mr. Karpusi, how are you?"

"Okay. The economy in Greece…as well as in the rest of Europe…is worrying me. Still, I've been able to get a good day's sleep."

Alfred laughed, pressing the button for the third floor. "Ha ha! It certainly shows. You always look so well-rested." This was a bit of an exaggeration considering Heracles generally appeared tired, but that was usually in the daytime when he was due for a nap.

"Hm…these days…all I want to do is sleep. Sleep and have sex."

"I hear you there, brother." A genuine smile arose on Alfred's lips and he laughed, feeling his anxiety start to slip away. As stressful as the preparation was, he truly enjoyed it when the CEO came to visit. Mr. Karpusi held a comfortable atmosphere that both commanded respect and kept relations lighthearted.

Arriving at their designated floor, the two men walked into the rows of cubicles, each displaying the hard work of the Marketing unit. "All right, let me give you a tour and introduce you to the group," Alfred told Heracles, heading over to the closest set of desks. "You remember these two, right? The blonde is Feliks and the other is Toris."

"Like, hey," Feliks greeted the CEO. "Long time, like, no see."

"H-Hello," Toris spoke, his nervous habit of trembling getting the better of him. "I-I hope you're d-doing well."

Heracles simply nodded, looking to Alfred as the American continued to talk. "They're in charge of when and where we advertise: which magazines, TV channels, radio stations, at what times, where to place billboards, and so on. I tell you, location, location, location."

Moving on down the row, the marketing manager stopped at another set of cubicles. "Over here, we have Ivan and Raivis. They research consumer trends, determining what is popular with customers these days, and it's always changing. What's 'hot' one day can easily become 'not', so we have to keep up on that. They communicate a lot with Eduard from Human Resources, since he manages the Opa!-Cola website and can tell them which products are selling the most, so then they can compare the sales to trends and see where we can improve."

Heracles gave them a slight nod, somewhat aware of Ivan's chilling grin and Raivis's shaking shoulders. As he left with Alfred, Ivan returned to his computer, his arctic violet eyes scanning the screen of research as his twisted mind imagined new ways to manipulate people using the data. Perhaps he could even "persuade" Eduard into tracking the information back to their owners' computers so he could figure out their addresses. Raivis simply hid his face in a steamy romance novel (hidden behind a binder of consumer data), his brown curls barely visible above the pages due to the Latvian's short stature. Long ago, he had learned that Ivan was a force to be reckoned with, so now, he did the majority of his work at home behind the safety of his computer…or so he liked to think…

Alfred continued on until he came across a certain desk. "…And here's Weillschmidt's station." Gilbert looked up at the sound of his boss's voice. "I'm sure you remember him, too. He works mostly on commercials. Casting, directing, filming, the whole shebang. This…" Alfred paused as he reminded himself that insulting his subordinate in front of Mr. Karpusi was probably not a good idea, "this man, Gilbert, knows what he wants, which is why he's so good at his job. He knows exactly what he wants and he knows how to execute it."

Gilbert stared at his boss, unaccustomed to praise coming from the man's lips, at least not directed at him. Oblivious to Gil's gawking red eyes, Alfred continued, "He and Mattie work together a lot since Mattie does all the writing for the commercials. That's why they hang in each other's cubicles sometimes…" the American trailed off as realization came over him, remembering how Matthew had left his coat in Gilbert's cubicle earlier. Of course, he thought, nearly slapping his forehead, that's why his coat was there. God, I'm a fucking idiot!

"A-Anyway," Al carried on, "You know Mattie, um, Matthew Williams, right? I mean, you were the one that transferred him here from…whatever department that was." Heracles's green eyes lit up in recollection and he nodded his head up and down, his attention firmly caught. "All right, well, he's right over there, so let's pay him a visit."

"Um, hold on a minute, boss," Gilbert interrupted, his tone surprisingly unguarded. "C-Can I talk to you for a second?"

Unsure how to react, Al replied, "Um, sure, I guess. Uh, Mr. Karpusi, Matthew's desk is right over there. You can talk with him while I settle things with Weillschmidt." Heracles seemed to agree, as he walked over to the Canadian's cubicle and drew up a chat with him. Returning his attention to Gilbert, Alfred inquired, "So, what is it?"

Gil sucked in a small breath, asking, "…Did you mean what you said? About me, I mean."

Alfred blinked as his mind processed the words, a light bulb going off in his head. "Well…yeah. You've been here for what, three years? I may not like you for…obvious reasons, but you're good at your job. If you weren't, I wouldn't have hired you, and by now, I'd have fired you."

"You're a poet it and you didn't even know it."

"…You're a punk; go suck your junk."

The albino cackled uncontrollably, clutching his sides as he leaned back in his chair. "Kesesese! N-Now, that's the Jones I know, kesesese!"

"Oh, so what, you'd rather I insult you all the time? I'm not allowed to say 'good work' every now and then?"

"Hey, man, don't get me wrong, I love getting praise for what I do. It just sounds so weird coming from you. So fucking sappy."

Alfred's eye twitched at this, sending his subordinate off on another laughing fit. "…Whatever," he mumbled as he walked away. "Just get back to work, you punk."

"Ay, ay, captain!" Once his manager was out of earshot, Gilbert let his humored smile fade slightly and he went back to work. "So, he's not a complete douche bag after all…" the albino murmured to himself, conjuring images in his mind as he read Matthew's script for a new commercial.

"Hey," Alfred greeted Matthew and Heracles, who were deep in conversation by the time he made his way over. "Sorry about the little detour there."

Heracles turned to him and assured, "It's not an issue…Matthew and I were just catching up."

"Good, good!" A wide grin on his face, Alfred looped an arm around his subordinate's shoulders and declared, "I gotta say, I don't know how you found him, Mr. Karpusi, but my little Mattie here, man, has he got a way with words! As I said before, he does all the writing for the commercials, but he also comes up with the slogans we put on the products and advertisements. I tell you, his work just gets better as he goes along."

Matthew blushed as he fidgeted in his seat, embarrassed by the attention he was receiving. "I-It's really not that amazing."

"Come on, Mattie, no need to be modest," Alfred continued, starting to wonder how long the Canadian was going to keep up his innocent shy-guy act. God, I swear, I just want to pull him onto my lap and fuck him senseless until he's writhing and begging and saying all sorts of dirty things and- Alfred quickly cut off his thoughts before he got a hard-on, although he was sure his cheeks were lightly flushed.

"A-Anyway…oh! Mr. Karpusi, there's someone you just have to meet! He's only been here for about six months, but damn, this kid can draw. Mattie, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Oh, sure, A-Alfred, whatever you want," Matthew answered.

"Great!" Walking farther along, Heracles following behind, Al boasted, "As I was saying, this kid, Kiku Honda, he has like, magic fingers or something. Like, everyone here has some sort of skill in design, but Kiku is the master. He can draw, color, photograph, retouch - he can do pretty much anything! He's…he's…he's asleep on the job."

As the marketing manager stopped in his tracks, the CEO looking over his shoulder, and his prime graphic designer dead to the world, only two words ran through his head. "Oh, fuck-" he said aloud, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. "Oh, s-s-sorry, Mr. Karpusi, u-um, please excuse my- my French. Um, h-hold on a sec." Panicking to the fullest extent, Alfred violently shook the sleeping Japanese, demanding, "K-Kiku, wake the fuck up- gah! Excuse my French, M-Mr. Karpusi!"

"What?" Kiku gasped as he was rudely awakened, jerking up from the desk and rubbing his eyes. "Wh-What is going on?"

Alarmed blue irises gaped at him as Alfred informed him, "K-Kiku, um, you were asleep."

"…I was asleep?"

"You were asleep."

"I was asleep?" Kiku gripped his black hair as he realized the implications behind the words, staring at his superior for some kind of answer. "For how long?"

"I don't know! All I know is that I came over here with Mr. Karpusi, um, the CEO and-"

"The CEO is here?" Kiku squealed, turning his attention to the man for the first time. Jerking out of his chair, Kiku bowed repeatedly as he fervently apologized, "I-I am so sorry, sir, um, M-Mr. Karpusi! I-I was struggling with this- this design a-and I was so tired, s-so I- I told myself j-just five minutes, but it must have been longer, and I am so sorry!"

Yet, to his surprise, Heracles shrugged his shoulders and replied, "It's all right. From my own experience…a man works best after a great nap. There's no point in working if you can't focus…"

Kiku stopped mid-bow and Alfred stood frozen, the two completely dumbfounded by the man's response. "Um, r-right, right. I agree," Kiku stammered.

Heracles's olive green eyes were calm and intrigued as they latched onto the paper on the desk. "…Do you mind if I look at what you're drawing?"

"What? Oh, no, not at all."

Large hands reached for the sheet and brought it close to his chest. Heracles scanned over the graphite image, noting the petals fluttering from a tree, coconuts hanging from its branches. "I feel…as if I've seen a tree like this before…"

"That is a sakura tree, more commonly known as a cherry blossom tree in America. Sakura trees originated in Japan."

"Do…do they have cherry blossom trees in Japan…that can grow coconuts…?"

"Aah…no, they do not. I was just using my imagination; playing around with ideas."

"I see…" Heracles contemplated the drawing for a while longer until he yawned, stretching like a limber feline. "Jones…I'd like to take a nap before we continue. Is that all right…?"

"Of course, Mr. Karpusi," Alfred agreed with a relieved smile, as his subordinate had just dodged a very lethal bullet. "I had Barbara prepare the couch in my office with pillows and blankets, just as you like it. You know where my office is, right?" The CEO nodded. "Good. You can head over there now. I'm just going to discuss a few things with Mr. Honda here."

Once Heracles walked down the hall and into Alfred's office, closing the door, the American let the smile fall off his face as he sighed deeply. Kiku shifted in place, his hands restlessly rolling around each other. "…Mr. Jones, I-"

"Kiku," Alfred addressed him firmly, his blue eyes harsh and rigid, "there is only one person here besides Mattie that I would absolutely die without in this company, and that person is you. I don't think I need to touch on how absolutely, completely, and entirely horrible that situation could have turned out. I can't even begin to tell you how goddamn lucky you are that Heracles Karpusi is the man he is."

"I know, Mr. Jones, I-"

"Kiku, what the hell were you thinking? Do you want to lose your job? Not only did you risk your job, but you risked the entire Marketing unit's credibility, you risked my credibility, my job - I dropped two f-bombs in front of the big guy! Have you forgotten that I'm your boss? That I'm responsible for every mistake you make?"

"Mr. Jones, I am so-"

"This isn't grade school, okay? For God's sake, this is the real world and I need you to man up, be professional, and do your fucking job!" Taking a few breaths as his subordinate meekly raised his hand like a student, Alfred snapped, "What?"

"E-Excuse me, Mr. Jones, but, I am sorry…" Kiku apologized, holding back tears through years of experience, so much that there wasn't even a glaze over his brown eyes. "I did not get much sleep last night due to our business call. I-I tried to make up for it with the energy drinks, but they just made me more tired. I promise that it will not happen again."

Alfred let out a deep sigh, running fingers through his blonde strands. "…Look, Kiku, I'm sorry. I know that was harsh, but I just don't want you to lose your job. Although, it looks like I'm at fault for this. Would've been considered my fault anyway: that's the life of a manager. But anyway, from now on, I promise not to call you in the middle of the night unless it's absolutely necessary."

Patting the Japanese man's back, Al told him in a softer tone, "Now, look, normally, I'd tell you to ease off the work load and get a good night's rest, but I really need the coconut water design soon; at least a sample. Please, get it done by tomorrow at the latest, if you can. That might mean you'll have to take it home and finish it outside of work. If you need to take a day off, after sending me the design, of course, or if you need a break for a serious power nap tomorrow, tell me. It obviously has to be a legitimate reason, not because you were out all night partying, okay? I mean, I get the feeling that's not your scene, but you get what I'm saying, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Jones, I understand."

"All right, all right, good. And again, I'm sorry, man. You know I hate to yell at you."

"I know, Mr. Jones."

"On the contrary I have no issue yelling at Gil, that little punk. He doesn't even need to screw up for me to yell at him."

"I agree, Mr. Jones."

"Damn it, Kiku, are you ever going to start calling me 'Alfred'? And stop agreeing with me. It's not cool."

"I agree, Mr. Jones."

"…Now you're doing it just to screw with me, aren't you?"

"That would be correct, Mr. Jones," Kiku answered, tilting his head to the side as he smiled. His superior grinned back amiably, ruffling the man's black hair.

"Get back to work, Sleeping Beauty."

. . .

Kiku grabbed a few pound bags of Sumatra and Komodo Dragon Blend coffee as he waited in line at the Starbucks counter. It was going to be a long night of art and design, so it was crucial for him to actually be conscious as he worked. However, his true mission at the Starbucks was to purchase something he had been craving ever since he woke up from his midday nap: a Java Chip Frappucino.

The man nearly licked his lips as he stared at the words on the menu, thoughts of the beverage running rampant through his mind. The mélange of coffee, milk, and ice, combined with chocolate bits and mocha sauce, and topped off with airy whipped cream and chocolate syrup was more than enough to send a diabetic into shock. What he loved even more than the smooth taste was the execution - the blend of the ingredients, the way the chocolate drizzle followed the whipped cream's trail; the overall presentation. These aspects were nothing compared to the adorable treats of his homeland, which were even more meticulously crafted and aesthetically appealing, but they were a sweet and nostalgic reminder of his Japanese childhood.

"Can I help you, sir?" the barista asked him as he reached the front of the line, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.

His vacant brown eyes showing no interest in the woman, Kiku placed the packages of coffee on the counter and handed her his Starbucks card. "Yes, I would like to order a tall Java Chip Frappucino."

"That must be for your girlfriend, huh?" she inquired, ringing up the items with a lush pout and doe eyes.

Impulsively throwing in a gourmet chocolate bar, Kiku clarified, "No, it is for myself. I think it looks cute."

"Oh, and I don't?"

Kiku felt his mouth twitch as a light blush rose on his cheeks. "N-No comment…" he answered, avoiding further eye contact with the barista.

She smiled in an assumed victory and returned his card. "Have a good night, sweetie."

"Thank you…" Kiku took his coffee bags and chocolate and walked over to the pick-up counter, patiently waiting for his Frappucino to be made. He contemplated the barista's behavior and her words, frowning slightly. In all the years he had been alive, he had never understood a person's need to comment on one's appearance. Male or female, he felt awkward talking about looks, as he felt any remark would imply attraction. Telling the woman that she was cute would insinuate he was interested in her, which was not so in the least, but to explain that he did not find her (or any woman for that matter) attractive would be incredibly impolite.

The Japanese man bit his cheek, trying to imagine her large eyes and pouting lips on an anime character. The image appearing in his mind, he figured she would be rather cute as a two-dimensional girl. In fact, she would be downright moe in his book, like one of the romantic interests in a dating sim game. Yet, as the three-dimensional woman she was, she was only repulsive to him. Kiku sighed, realizing there were some things that just did not translate well into real life.

"Tall Java Chip Frappucino," a male barista announced, tearing Kiku from his thoughts as he placed the drink on the counter.

"A-Arigato, I mean, thank you," Kiku instinctively spoke in his native language, caught off guard. Taking a sip of the chilled beverage, Kiku smiled, his taste buds delighted by the flavor. He glanced toward the clock to check the time, 6:12 at night, his eyes soon wandering to the person sitting beneath it. Wondering why he looked familiar, Kiku stared at the man busily typing away at his laptop until it suddenly clicked: it was the CEO.

The thought filled him with mortification as he remembered his terrible first impression. There was no better way to come off as a lazy bum than to fall asleep on the job the exact day the CEO is visiting. Curious as to whether it was truly him, Kiku moved closer, over to the extras bar. Sure enough, it was Heracles Karpusi, his green eyes intense and concentrating on the screen. It was strange to see the Greek so focused, especially since he had essentially come off as lethargic before, with the slow way he spoke and the blank look on his face. Yet, here he was, hard at work on his laptop. Kiku supposed this was the difference a good catnap made.

Heracles stretched his arms above his head as he finished a sentence, bringing them back down to take a sip of coffee. Sensing the uncanny feeling that someone was watching him, he looked up from his work and directly at Kiku Honda. Kiku flinched as they made eye contact, noticing the look of recognition on Heracles's face. His options were slim for the picking: there was not a doubt in his mind that he would feel awkward greeting the CEO, but it would be rude and even more awkward to step out the door after getting caught. Treating his choices like those of a dating sim game, Kiku mentally clicked on the first and walked over to Heracles's table.

Now, he just had to hope his decision would lead to the good ending.