Re: Zen [2/?]
anonymous
June 23 2009, 17:56:26 UTC
Japan pushes open the door to America’s room. Light filters in through the window and shines in on the bed.
Japan turns to look at America, who blinks a few times before he realizes what his lover intends. “Oh. Oh, Japan, no. I can’t. There’s too much to do, and -”
“And it’s tearing you apart,” Japan says, pulling America farther into the room and towards the bed. “You’re so tired you can barely think straight. If we speak right now, it will be highly inefficient and useless. Valuable time will be wasted.” Kiku folds back the comforter, warmed by the sun, and presses America back onto the mattress.
“Is that it?”
“America-san?”
Japan looks down into blue eyes and thinks of the sky just as the sun dips down the horizon.
“Is that the only reason you’re doing this? For the good of the meeting?”
Japan blinks, and annoyance rears up and growls. He forces it back down and bends his head to press a soft kiss to America’s forehead.
“If you think that is the only reason I am doing this,” Japan says as he pulls the covers up and over America’s shoulders, “then you need much more sleep than I thought.”
“But….”
“Hush. Rest.”
America looks like he wants to say something more, but Japan knows how soft America likes his sheets, how easy it is to slip into sleep between them. And America is already so tired.
America’s words thicken and lose themselves as those blue eyes slide shut. Japan runs his fingers through America’s hair and watches him fall asleep, as he has so many nights before. Japan scratches America’s scalp, feeling the individual strands as America’s breath evened out into relaxation.
Japan waited until he heard the first slight snore to draw his hand away and return to the living room, sighing and gathering the sheets together in more organized piles. When he lifts his head, his eyes land on the tray of tea.
Japan reaches out and takes one of the cups in his hand. It’s cold now, but he takes a sip anyway. He smells peppermint and other herbs beneath the spoonfuls of sugar America likes to stir into their tea.
Japan leans back and stares into the tea, through the amber to the dregs that somehow managed to leak out of the teabags. He can’t help but wrinkle his nose, just a little. Really, he thought, America-san needs to learn how to properly have tea. It would probably help relax him more, too.
Japan blinks and thinks this over.
And then he begins to smile.
Japan stands, takes the tray, and walks back into the kitchen. He’s sad that he has to dump America’s tea out (well, only a little bit), but he’s going to make another batch. A better batch. And he’s going to show America what good proper rest and meditation can do for the mind. ___
“Mmmmn.” America inhales through his nose, deep and sleepy, stretching and writhing on the bed. Japan thinks of that body beneath the comforter, remembering how it moves, and smiles.
“Did you have a nice nap, America-san?”
America’s eyelids squeeze together before blinking open, and he squints up at Japan from the bed. “Mm, yeah, I feel a little bit…Japan, what are you wearing?”
Japan knows perfectly well what he’s wearing, and why. Still, he feigns surprise at America as he pushes the sheets away and emerges from underneath. “America-san, this is my yukata. You’ve seen me in them before.” You’ve taken them off of me, he thinks, but presses those memories back for now.
“Yeah, but…” America frowns as he wakes further, “but that’s not the one you usually wear. It looks…fancier.”
Japan lifts an eyebrow. “Is it so shocking to believe,” he asks, “when I’m visiting a fellow nation?”
“Well -”
“And is it that hard to believe that I brought this for you?”
America’s head jerks back at this, and Japan watches the frown on his face. With a small smile, he nods to the America’s armchair in the opposite corner of the room. “I found the one I gifted to you a while ago as well,” he says. “Please put it on and come meet me in the living room.”
Japan turns on his heel and walks away before America can respond. It’s only then that he lets his careful control slip away and allows himself a secret, excited smile.
Japan turns to look at America, who blinks a few times before he realizes what his lover intends. “Oh. Oh, Japan, no. I can’t. There’s too much to do, and -”
“And it’s tearing you apart,” Japan says, pulling America farther into the room and towards the bed. “You’re so tired you can barely think straight. If we speak right now, it will be highly inefficient and useless. Valuable time will be wasted.” Kiku folds back the comforter, warmed by the sun, and presses America back onto the mattress.
“Is that it?”
“America-san?”
Japan looks down into blue eyes and thinks of the sky just as the sun dips down the horizon.
“Is that the only reason you’re doing this? For the good of the meeting?”
Japan blinks, and annoyance rears up and growls. He forces it back down and bends his head to press a soft kiss to America’s forehead.
“If you think that is the only reason I am doing this,” Japan says as he pulls the covers up and over America’s shoulders, “then you need much more sleep than I thought.”
“But….”
“Hush. Rest.”
America looks like he wants to say something more, but Japan knows how soft America likes his sheets, how easy it is to slip into sleep between them. And America is already so tired.
America’s words thicken and lose themselves as those blue eyes slide shut. Japan runs his fingers through America’s hair and watches him fall asleep, as he has so many nights before. Japan scratches America’s scalp, feeling the individual strands as America’s breath evened out into relaxation.
Japan waited until he heard the first slight snore to draw his hand away and return to the living room, sighing and gathering the sheets together in more organized piles. When he lifts his head, his eyes land on the tray of tea.
Japan reaches out and takes one of the cups in his hand. It’s cold now, but he takes a sip anyway. He smells peppermint and other herbs beneath the spoonfuls of sugar America likes to stir into their tea.
Japan leans back and stares into the tea, through the amber to the dregs that somehow managed to leak out of the teabags. He can’t help but wrinkle his nose, just a little. Really, he thought, America-san needs to learn how to properly have tea. It would probably help relax him more, too.
Japan blinks and thinks this over.
And then he begins to smile.
Japan stands, takes the tray, and walks back into the kitchen. He’s sad that he has to dump America’s tea out (well, only a little bit), but he’s going to make another batch. A better batch. And he’s going to show America what good proper rest and meditation can do for the mind.
___
“Mmmmn.” America inhales through his nose, deep and sleepy, stretching and writhing on the bed. Japan thinks of that body beneath the comforter, remembering how it moves, and smiles.
“Did you have a nice nap, America-san?”
America’s eyelids squeeze together before blinking open, and he squints up at Japan from the bed. “Mm, yeah, I feel a little bit…Japan, what are you wearing?”
Japan knows perfectly well what he’s wearing, and why. Still, he feigns surprise at America as he pushes the sheets away and emerges from underneath. “America-san, this is my yukata. You’ve seen me in them before.” You’ve taken them off of me, he thinks, but presses those memories back for now.
“Yeah, but…” America frowns as he wakes further, “but that’s not the one you usually wear. It looks…fancier.”
Japan lifts an eyebrow. “Is it so shocking to believe,” he asks, “when I’m visiting a fellow nation?”
“Well -”
“And is it that hard to believe that I brought this for you?”
America’s head jerks back at this, and Japan watches the frown on his face. With a small smile, he nods to the America’s armchair in the opposite corner of the room. “I found the one I gifted to you a while ago as well,” he says. “Please put it on and come meet me in the living room.”
Japan turns on his heel and walks away before America can respond. It’s only then that he lets his careful control slip away and allows himself a secret, excited smile.
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