"I… don't…"

Japan frowned determinedly at the mirror, pushing a palm against the curve of his five-month belly like he could push or suck it back in. He stood up straight; he slouched down. Greece, who could see all of this from the bed, watched with amusement in his eyes.

"None of that will help very much, you know…" He stated softly, noting Kiku's scowl of frustration. No matter which angle he tried it from; in his normal white suit you could certainly tell that he had a strange little bump. It wouldn't be a problem if he was going to wear said suit to, say, a meeting with his boss, or with someone who might notice but wouldn't comment – but to a Summit?

"I am aware."

"You can always wear dark colors, you know…" but then, Japan didn't really like wearing anything darker than a dark brown or gray. Black held too many bad memories, too many sentiments he'd made while not entirely himself. "I'd offer you my clothes but… obviously…"

Kiku shook his head, tweaking his frown to the side. After a moment he sighed heavily, shrugged the jacket off and shed the tie, the button-up shirt. Left in his plain white undershirt, he turned to face the mirror full-on.

"… I look fat."

Heracles tried not to sigh. Lately they'd been getting into conversations such as that – Japan's moods became wildly unpredictable, and frankly, it was scaring the shit out of Greece. One moment he'd be placidly listening to the news on the radio, the next he'd be whining about how he couldn't understand Greek when it was spoken so fast. One morning he blew up over how Heracles folded his clothes; though he couldn't resist the thought that Kiku looked like an indignant little sparrow when angry, he was still thoroughly shamed and slunk around the house for the rest of the day.

At least Kiku's mood right then was alright – it seemed like he was mostly in control of himself.

"You're not fat, Kiku..." Heracles started in on the futile effort, wondering if he could get away with just flopping back into the pillows and falling asleep. It was too hot, anyway; mid-August was unbearable, sometimes.

"But I am."

"You're pregnant… There's a very distinct difference…"

The other's sigh was audible. Just as Greece finally succumbed to the heat and lay back, fully intent on taking a nap, he could hear quiet footsteps padding over from the bathroom to the bed. After a moment he felt Kiku's weight sink into the mattress. At least that was a pleasant change; as Japan adjusted to the Greek way of life (he visited more and more often, somehow feeling safer in his love's home than in his own) he was beginning to get into the habit of siesta. And with siesta, there was always Greece… who'd found that it was very easy to capture and cuddle a sleepy Japan.

That he did – though it was really too hot to do so, Heracles rolled over and wrapped Kiku in his arms loosely. Though he reddened considerably, the smaller of them allowed it to happen, eventually snuggling in himself. The both of them were asleep within minutes, soothed by the human warmth and the sound of life just outside the bedroom window.

Of course, Kiku woke much sooner than Heracles did. Everything about him was efficient, if not like Germany, but more formal – if siesta lasted from four to six, then he'd sleep for exactly two hours. No more, no less. He even looked official and orderly, usually sleeping straight, like a soldier, like he was packed into a tube…

It was almost dinnertime and Japan was too hungry to wait for Greece to wake up. Usually they would go out for an early dinner or cook together, but he figured that making something small to tide himself over until they ate couldn't hurt. Untangling himself from the other's arms, Kiku sat up and stretched the kinks and curls out of his back, yawning and scratching a familiar cat behind her ears. He was smiling fondly at nothing much when he noticed the little jump.

"Mmm?" he hummed, poking at his tummy, figuring (of course) that the pang was out of hunger and nothing more. Wincing a little over the reappearing pain near his hip, he climbed out of bed and padded slowly towards the stairs, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

This is better than how I first made it out to be... Kiku mused to himself, picking up another small chunk of feta cheese with his chopsticks. Among a few other things, (like garlic, tomatoes, lamb...) feta was the kind of food he probably would never have eaten by choice. But lately, ever since the little bundle of joy took root within him, he'd been craving Greek food almost nonstop. For days on end he could survive on nothing more than traditional salad and bread and souvlaki, not to mention all the other foods that Greece's people (geniuses that they were) had come up with.

A small smile of contentment on his face, Japan had just replaced the remaining cheese in the refrigerator and set some water on the stove to boil for tea, when he noticed the hunger pang again. His lip twitched. What he'd just eaten - feta cheese and some bread - was more than enough to tide him over until dinner, light eater that he was.

He was considering the possibility that his stomach had reacted badly to something when it hit him - duh! - like a bird slamming straight into a window. He stopped dead where he was, pressed his hand to his belly and moved it around until he found the most direct area of the movement...

"H-Heracles!" He called, trying not to wince at the pain of not using an honorific, more excited than anything to show Greece what he'd just discovered. A moment later, he heard the telltale creaking, then the solid thump of Greece falling off the bed and getting up to rush to his side.

Ever since Kiku'd discovered that he was in a delicate state, his lover had more than stepped up to do his part. It was becoming common for him to forgo naps, instead willingly catering to Kiku's new whim of food or temper or whatever else his baby-influenced mind could convince itself that it needed right now, Heracles, i'm super serious. And he did it all with a smile on his face, leaving a kiss on Japan's forehead as he trudged out in the blanket of summer heat to buy the latest must-have.

Moments later, in fact, he was in the kitchen, at Kiku's side. Concern was written all over his face. Even more than the actual pregnant one, Greece was holding his breath and steeling his mind for the worst, and being called in the middle of a nap couldn't mean that there was anything good Kiku needed to inform him of...

But: but. His hand was grabbed at the wrist, palm pressed flat to the naked, warm skin of Japan's belly, right above (and to the right) of his navel. He was confused for a moment, before those seafoam eyes widened in surprise, in wonder -

"H-he's... kicking!"

The summit turned out to be a big twitching headache, complete with inexplicable roses and ancient, flying mints. Someone must have gotten a hold of the jar that England had filled up back in 1980, then stuffed in the back of a closet a few months later.

But, Kiku wondered to himself, how else could it possibly turn out? He rubbed his temples, trying to duck his head low enough to avoid being hit by the small candy projectiles and maybe block out some of the noise.

Though he was always expected to be one of those who actually got some work done during every meeting, this time around he didn't touch his paperwork, his briefcase or phone. Nothing. He didn't even accept the invitation he'd gotten to go into another room with a few other countries, the ones that met to have some civilized company during these times of international crisis - if not to get some good conversation (and gossip) in there, too.

No, Japan just sat in his seat, trying to be very small, in more ways than one. He'd finally found a gray jacket that made him look a somewhat less curved in the middle, but really, nobody would be convinced by the clothing alone. If he dared stand to do anything, he feared he'd be found out before he could say it himself. Both he and Greece figured that coming out with the truth in the first place was better than never doing so and dealing with all the rumors that would float up eventually, anyway.

And to his credit, Kiku was doing a good job of being small and avoiding a headache and keeping his hands away from his belly, despite the fact that now he could recognize and feel whenever the baby kicked - which he was, right then. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief that lunch was coming when the white noise of arguments (sometimes punctuated by the staccato of someone shouting for everyone else to SHUT UP ALREADY, or by the occasional gunshot) bubbled down to nothing.

Eerie, cold, desolate, tangible, nothing.

Kiku really didn't even have to look up to confirm that every single eye in the room was on him.

Feeling the heat rise in his face, Japan eventually did just that, slowly raising his head as if he were facing the audience at his execution. He had no idea what was going on, or what somebody had said, but he was already running things to announce through his mind and thinking of quick escape strategies in case was the victim of - yet another - water balloon attack.

The silence stretched out, greedily filling every space and inch and nook and cranny in the room. Japan had no idea what was going on, until, several tense seconds later, America cleared his throat.

He did so again, fiddling with his tie, rubbing the back of his neck.

That wasn't a good sign. Alfred cleared his throat when he was nervous or guilty or scared or reading - or any combination of those. Kiku felt the blood drain out of him, rushing to his face, which couldn't be good at all, both for his face and for the baby.

"A - ano..." He mumbled, glancing around, hoping that someone could offer a clue as to what exactly was going on. If he were to stick his tongue out at that moment, he would probably taste pure tension.

Finally, clearing his throat once again, America took the podium at the end of the long table, as was unfortunately customary.

"Well, now that that little bit of news has been cleared up, why don't we discuss -"

"Wait." England cut America off short, earning a sour look from his former colony and a half-terrified one from Japan.

"Now, Japan. You're what?"

"A-ano... I... don't understand..." Kiku tried feebly, feeling horribly frozen, trapped, on the spot. He still wasn't even sure what had been said that caused such a hush, but he knew exactly what 'little bit of news' he'd bet his GDP on.

"Having a baby, Japan? Really?"

With that, with Kiku's meek little nod of confirmation, the silence turned from thick to empty - the vacuum noise of hundreds of nations all sucking in their breath at once. It lasted for the barest hair of a second.

And then - calamity. Pure chaos. Shouts of congratulations mixed in with protests, whines about lunchtime, bad smells or these mints taste terrible! Kiku could feel the glares and stares and dismissing glances of so many others, those he respected more than anything. On instinct, he curled into himself, clamping his hands over his ears... the same position he'd taken when the Netherlands knocked on his door, so many years ago. Only this time, he had no blanket, no Pochi-kun to comfort him, just his useless gray suit and a giant, twitching headache, complete with inexplicable roses and ancient, flying mints.

"Well... That was a nightmare." Greece mumbled, raising his eyebrows sternly at America. He, Japan, America, Spain, and Belgium were sitting outside some run-down grocery store a few miles away from the building-turned-Hell that the Summit was being held at.

The younger just chuckled nervously, eyeing Kiku instead. Said nation was slowly draining a water bottle, still too shaky and red and petrified to eat anything other than some olives or yogurt or crackers, all of which were out of the question at that point. At least the four had managed to beat their way through the crowd to rescue the poor guy, and escort him far enough away for him to feel safe enough to release the clamps on his ears and knees from his chest.

"I... it was the heat of the moment, y'know?" America ventured, pink with guilt over betraying his best friend's biggest secret. "It just kinda... slipped. I didn't expect anyone to hear! Or care! Honest!"

At that, Spain chuckled a little. "You underestimate the ears we have, America. And news like that?" He shook his head, snickering a little to himself. "It's gold."

"You didn't even have it that bad!" Belgium sullenly protested, finishing off her apple juice and shooting Spain a half-hearted glare.

"Romano didn't even show until late! And we kept it a secret! Nobody asked! And by then, it was too late."

"You managed to keep it a secret?"

"You were around then, weren't you?"

Belgium shook her head slowly, frowning a little. Patting Japan affectionately on the thigh as she got up, she leaned up against the wall and just sighed. "Well, looks like that strategy won't quite work now, won't it?"

"What's the worst that... they'll do?" Greece asked, looking from Spain to Belgium slowly. The former's face tightened into a slight grimace before blooming into a cheery, if not hopeful, grin.

"Well, nothing!"

Belgium's voice elbowed its way in. "Yeah, they'll try to do shit. You know how paranoid England and China and all of them are! They'll get it in their heads that the baby's a new nation that'll take everyone down, or something crazy like that." She shook her head, crossing her arms. "So who knows what they'll do. Just... just don't stand at the top of staircases for too long, alright, Japan?"

"That is not funny, Belgium-san."

"I'm serious."

"They'd... really... try that?"

"Like I said, Greece. Who knows?"

America suddenly laughed - strong, pure, the laugh of a young man completely confident in his skills as a hero. "Yeah, like they can get through us."

Spain turned to the blonde, then to Japan, nodding enthusiastically. "Don't worry! We'll pull you through this. It'll be okay. We're with you, buddy, and I'm sure there are more nations that are just looking to piss England and China off by rebelling. You think we're gonna just roll over without a fight? I don't know you very well, Japan, but I know you're not going to do that. And you know what? Neither are we."