It was two in the afternoon on a Sunday when Japan called. Greece had just gotten back from a neighbor's house, where they'd met for lunch after church - he was loosening his tie and thinking about mixing a drink when he heard the shrill ring of the phone and rushed to pick it up. It was rare for someone to call at that hour, so he figured that it had to be some form of important.
And so it was. Before Greece could get a friendly greeting in, Japan was talking - no, more like demanding - so unlike him...
"Did you use a condom?"
"... what?"
"Did you use a condom? Last week?"
Greece searched his memory - oh, yes. That was a damn good time, but he remembered very clearly that he did not use a condom. He said so, feeling very much like the kid who ruined the one thing he was most certainly not supposed to ruin.
Judging by the string of curses Japan muttered, it was bad; Greece had ruined the precious thing. But what was it? It wasn't Japan's virginity, nor was it his clothing or dignity or anything...
But there was no time to ask; the other hung up before Greece could even open his mouth to speak.
"It will be okay. It will be okay. It. Will. Be. Okay."
For a few moments, the mantra worked; taking deep breaths and chanting it over and over, like the meditations Laos had taught him, the four words seemed to form a balm. The jagged edges of Kiku's nerves were temporarily soothed. He sat on the tatami mat of the main room in his home, trying not to look at the pages spread in a fan out in front of him. In his mind, at that moment, they seemed to form a particularly lovely sort of noose.
"... What will be okay?"
Startled at the light feminine voice, Japan rushed to collect himself (and the papers- those, he flipped over to hide), to smooth his hair, adjust his clothes. Even if it was just two of his close sisters come to visit, he had a face to maintain.
Vietnam didn't look too impressed, what with her flat-held eyebrows and the half-empty cup of boba tea at her lips; Taiwan looked flustered, as always, like she was too sick with anxiousness to drink the boba in her hands but was anyway. She was the one who had heard Kiku, and asked.
Japan wondered, for a moment, why they were there, until he remembered - right. They had called to say that they were in the neighborhood, thought they'd drop by and say hi before going out in Taipei for the night... and they didn't seem to appreciate the fine art of Knocking Before You Enter Japan's Home. Nobody did, really, yet still Kiku upheld the protest that it be observed; it was the principle of the thing.
"Well?" Vietnam asked after a few beats of silence, one eyebrow raised. Japan'd forgotten how much of a, well... big sister Vietnam was, how nosy she could be when it concerned the lives of her technically-adopted siblings. When combined, Taiwan and Vietnam were a force of unforgetting nosy sisters, who by default Kiku obliged to tell the truth to most all the time.
"N-nothing. I just ... visited the doctor again today." which was the truth, though not one that he would elaborate on. Immediately, the color drained from Taiwan's face and rose in Vietnam's. They asked in unison: "what's wrong?"
"They don't know yet." A little white lie; he knew exactly what was wrong, he'd gone to the office a few days prior. This morning, he'd just gone to get the results of said visit. He just... well, he didn't know exactly what he was going to do about those, yet. Better not get anyone excited, just in case.
"Well, do you feel okay?" Kiku nodded a little. He could easily ignore the nausea and backaches to put on a facade of full health, no doubt. He was a good actor. "Nothing that won't be better in a matter of a week or so, i'm sure."
Vietnam, though she didn't look too convinced, just nodded and told him the same thing she always did; to call her for anything, to let her come over and cook and liven up his home a little, and also that at the first sign that his health was taking a turn for the worse, he should tell her immediately. The latter he would do, in any case at all. His elder sister was well-trained medically, one of the best out of all the nations, and one of the few people he trusted besides that.
Taiwan chattered softly about her eternal worry for his health, different remedies she knew (that she did not learn from China, thank you!), and that he could call her, too; was he sure that it wasn't a cold or a sign of a down-turning economy or anything?
After reassuring the two that he would call, eat more and take walks – though he said nothing when Vietnam sternly instructed him to not eat any more salted salmon! – Japan politely got them out of the door and sighed in relief when he heard nothing but an empty home. Not even Pochi-kun was making much noise; he must've been asleep in his bed in the laundry room, at the back of the home.
Silence, order, peace, calm, the gentle rhythm of his life. Everything Japan loved best was at his toes. After considering for a moment, he went to go make some tea and ponder the clouds, alone.
It is rare for a nation to become pregnant, whether they are male or female. Circumstances have to be pretty much perfect.
It is rarer still for both parents to agree to keep and raise the child; horrible as it seems, most don't have the time, or interest, to raise a child. Forever is a long time to be a parent.
But it is rarest of all for a nation's baby to survive to full term, to be born healthy and truly wanted. The infant in the womb depends not only on being cared for by its mother, but on the prosperity of both its parent nations. Half the time an infant is miscarried or stillborn because of economic problems or scandals that flare up and die down about as quick as flames lit by stone and flint.
Greece was supremely confused. First Japan had called, given no formalities, demanded answers of him, and hung up – so spookily unlike the other that Greece was starting to doubt whether it was Kiku at all. But then again, if it was a prankster, they were very good at sounding like Japan. And they knew of their sex life, too, or perhaps they were just a very good guesser…
He was folding his laundry, placidly admiring the snap and smell of the towels and thinking about whether he should rearrange the potted ferns when, from somewhere deep inside the miniature labyrinth that was his home, the phone rang. Having been jittery and curious all day, he (in a very Greece-like manner) leapt up to grab it, though not before a wild search. He finally found the darn thing in the second sitting room, of all places, and on the very last beat of the final ring.
Sinking into the wicker chair underneath the window, he tried to act casual as he answered. "… Hello?"
There was silence on the other end before Japan spoke. Greece's heart tried to decide whether or not it appreciated that voice right then.
"Greece-san; moshi moshi. I apologize for my… particularly rude behavior earlier; it was improper and uncivilized." Greece had nodded casually when he realized that nodding doesn't carry well over the phone – before he could get a word in though, Japan had hesitantly gone on speaking.
"And I suppose this may be rude, too, it's on such short notice, but… I was wondering if perhaps, you would like to meet sometime, for dinner? On me, of course. Does tonight work? …Good. Alright. I will see you then; thank you for your time, Greece-san. Sayonara."
The restaurant was a cubbyhole, some place in Tokyo where the chairs and tables were all metal and the floors were white stone, but the waitresses wore fluorescent-colored T-shirts and tight black pants, too cool and busy to pay attention to any conversations.
Japan ordered for the both of them, not wanting to draw attention to his disheveled-looking companion; Greece, however, to his credit, had done his very best to look good for the meeting. He even bothered to attempt to tie his tie, despite the fact that he could not (in any way), and it ended up just looking like an awkward bump sitting at his throat. And it wasn't exactly his fault that his hair decided, very much unlike Kiku's, to act up – especially at the most inopportune times.
"So." When Heracles finally spoke, it seemed to snap Kiku out of some sort of trance; his pale cheeks were pink, his thumb was trembling. It was simply a matter of time before some sort of bomb would be dropped, the Greek could tell that for sure. He wondered why it would be here, though, in a place humming with quiet conversations, made too cold by air conditioning and modern décor. Didn't huge news have to be told in person?
They made careful (but unavoidably pleasant, what with Heracles being the socialite he could be) small talk, though, until their food arrived; Greece's worried pondering would have to wait until Japan could work up the balls to speak.
The Greek was in the middle of biting into the last piece of inarizushi when Japan took a deep breath and blurted it, the way he had practiced a hundred times, in perfect Greek: "Mr. Greece, I invited you here tonight, not only to apologize for my rude behavior on the phone this morning, but to tell you something of urgent importance to the both of us."
He looked away, red and unreadable as a sunrise, trying not to let his whole body shake along with the thud of his heart, before turning back and coming out with it – though not in as brave and forward a way as he'd practiced.
"I went to the doctor a few days ago, and they told me that… I… a - am… with…" he squeezed his eyes closed, as if the one fate-sealing word was just too much to speak. "Child. Y - yours, actually."
Greece chewed and swallowed the bite of food, admiring the exotic taste and not thinking of anything else. Japan stared in complete anxiety and fear as the other put his chopsticks down carefully, and calmly regarded him.
"Really?" The look on Greece's face had melted into that of utter disbelief. Surely not Japan, not with him, not not not. This wasn't the kind of thing that happened to him. No, Greece fell while going up the steps, he got pickpocketed, and cut, and captured in wars. He did not get his friends knocked up. Especially not friends like Japan.
"Y-yes, really. A-and since I… am not in a place to… ahem… keep this child, I suppose I am searching for your permission to…"
"N-no!" Greece suddenly half-shouted, effectively silencing a few nearby conversations for a second or two, and completely mortifying Japan; he didn't realize how loud he was in this country, how foreign, how passionate, compared to everyone else.
"What?"
Greece just shook his head slowly, sitting back down. "Y-you can't do that… It won't make it anyway… Something… is bound to go wrong… why not give it all the chances… that you can?" His voice was more rational then, calm, a doctor discussing all your options.
He was not a doctor, though, detached and smooth. Something – something raw and animal (but perfectly human) – had burned through him upon hearing that Japan just wanted to get rid of the problem. Perhaps it was the Orthodox Greek in him, or just the man who couldn't stand to see small kittens sitting in boxes on curbs, unclaimed, but he couldn't bear the thought of this child… his child, being completely denied life. Death would happen anyway, why execute it yourself?
Japan, on the other hand, just sat there, dumbstruck. He'd expected Heracles to want whatever he wanted; not for him to make a scene in public and then practically beg to give the seedling a chance.
"I know… that you have a heart, Kiku…" Heracles murmured. "Have it. Give something… completely defenseless… an honest shot at life. Please. For me."
Kiku really had to wonder why he didn't just give in and get a western bed, but something stubborn in him just couldn't let go of his three-inch-thick mattress – or maybe the comfort and security he attached to beds like Greece's were because of that man, himself.
It was a bruised, humid night, and not even the stars wiggled out of their places to shine in the sky. Heracles and Kiku lay drowsy on the former's bed, spooning, Greece's hands flat against Japan's (quite normal-looking) stomach.
They murmured together, talking about everything that was not the most important at hand – they spent the time in silence, too. Cats curled around them, purring contentedly, tail tips swishing in the darkness.
Finally, as the moon rose and sat in the window above the bed, illuminating the two in its pale haunted light, Greece pressed his eyes into the roll of Kiku's shoulder.
"please." He murmured humbly, knowing that the other would know exactly what he was talking about. Judging by how Kiku suddenly froze, he did.
Silence stretched out and Greece's heart sank low. "I-I mean… if you decide to do it anyway, I'll take… responsibility and pay, but…"
Even longer the silence spread. Heracles was about to write Kiku off as asleep, or not interested, when the other spoke. It was so quiet that the Greek had to listen very hard to hear him properly.
"Okay. We will see… what happens… I will not go through with it."
Two hearts were set to wild thudding once those words were spoken. Greece's was giddy with excitement and anxiousness; love for Kiku and soon-to-be for his baby, too. Japan's was heavy with trepidation, not wanting to see Greece's heart broken; they were waiting for his whole world to open up and completely change, forever.