[APH Fic] Smile, Beautiful [GR/JP]
Title: Smile, Beautiful
Character(s) or Pairing(s): GreecexJapan
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some kissing, possible OOC-ness and un-beta'd shameless fluff.
Summary: To most people, Japan seemed emotionless. To Greece, the breadth of his emotional span was breathtakingly beautiful.
Notes: My own personal headcanon is that Japan only reserves his emotions for the most private of moments. I hope it's not too OOC and I hope you enjoy it! I'd love some feedback, this is my first time writing these two.
Original post
If there was one thing that Greece understood better than anyone else, it was the subtlety of Japan’s facial expressions. To the untrained eye, Japan seemed stoic, stony-faced and hardly bearing an expression besides, well, expression-less. Especially in comparison to the over-bearing America, who had the worst poker face on the planet. Really, it baffled Greece sometimes how they could be friends. Opposites attract, he supposed.
But Greece knew the small things that panned across Japan’s pale face that showed what he was feeling. The gentle slope of his eyebrows when he was confused, or the way his dark eyes lit up when he was happy, or the small furrows in his brow when angry. Sometimes Japan clenched his jaw when he was really angry, and when he was at peace, he breathed deeply and his ears turned a pale pink. He didn’t need the obnoxious facial expressions to express his emotions.
However, that didn’t mean that Japan was completely incapable of expressing in such a way. When his and Japan’s relationship went past the realm of friendship and into a lasting, romantic entanglement, America, as Japan’s best friend (really, how could they be such good friends?) had cornered Greece and asked-no, demanded-to know just how Japan was in bed. He had been thinking about it too much, he explained, and it freaked him out to think about Japan having no facial expression at all-or too much of one. Greece chose not to respond to that one.
There were certainly things about their relationship that people wondered, but both being such insanely private people, they were the couple everyone knew the least about. And Greece was happy about that, because that meant he could keep one of the most beautiful things he’d ever witnessed completely to himself.
It only happened in the dark, deepest recesses of the night, when they were talking in hushed voices, the moon their only source of light. All too often, Greece would be lying on his back, his head propped up by his huge pillows, and Japan would be leaning on his chest, his head resting in his arms, his normally impeccable hair every which way, his face shining with sweat, and the corners of his mouth would curve upwards, except they would go beyond the normal capacity of his smiles. His cheeks would squish together, and his eyes would crease, and his teeth were white and pearly, and he would smile the biggest, most beautiful smile Greece had ever seen. He would laugh loudly and his laugh would curl into the air, like wisps of smoke. And Greece would sit up and try to capture that happiness in his lips, and Japan would pull away and that same smile would be back, and he would stroke his cheek in the most tender of ways, and Greece always felt as if his heart would stop from how much he was in love with the man before him.
No one ever saw that smile. No one ever saw that beautiful inflection of his face. No one ever saw his other emotions, like how much he could cry when he was sad, or the way his face would scrunch together and he would let the tears fall onto Greece’s chest. Or how his eyes would light up with anger when he was frustrated, and his jaw would tighten and his fingers would curl into his palms and he would sometimes lapse into frustrated Japanese in the dead of night while he was expressing his anger.
...Or, especially, how his lips would part just the smallest bit, and his eyes would open, and he would look down at his lover and kiss his forehead, his cheek bones, his nose, his chin, every part of his face, lapping it up like it was the most delectable thing he’d ever tasted. And the look in his dark eyes, it was like Greece could see straight into his soul.
No one had any idea how much feeling Japan harbored beneath his stony exterior. It had taken a very long time for Japan to feel comfortable enough around Greece to express himself in such a way, but Greece knew that, once he had gotten over his emotional shyness, that their relationship had no real boundaries. And he liked it that way.
Japan laid his forehead gingerly to Greece’s, closing his eyes, and Greece felt his thick hair tickling his cheeks, and he wrapped his arms around him and rolled over, Japan laughing in surprise and glee, reaching up and wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling Greece’s head into his shoulder and kissing his ear, the only thing separating their bodies being a thin sheet, and that laugh, and that smile, oh, how it shook him to his very core. He could feel Japan gripping the back of his head, his thin fingers getting lost in his curly hair, and he laughed again, sweet and strong, and kissed his cheek, lingering there for awhile.
Greece turned his torso and realized he was right next to his face, his nose just touching Japan’s, and he smiled brightly at Greece, and Greece was overwhelmed. He pulled him to his lips and kissed them as gently as possible, and made audible the words he had been harboring in his heart.
“I love you,” he whispered. Japan kissed the bridge of his nose, hesitating a bit before laying his lips down. “Marry me.” Japan blinked, moving back gingerly, staring straight at Greece with those eyes. He looked startled and his cheeks flushed a shade of crimson Greece wasn’t sure he’d seen before.
“What?” he asked.
“Marry me.” Greece repeated. His heart was beating so hard he thought it was going to leap from his ribcage. Japan smiled a cheeky smile; one that literally no one else in the world knew even existed.
“You know we can’t,” he said, his voice soft. (It was always soft.) Greece shrugged.
“Is that a yes then?” and Japan laughed again and laid his chin on his folded hands. He nodded.
“If I could, you know I would,” he whispered. Greece sat up a bit and reached over to his bedside table, opening a drawer, and pulling out a small box. Japan’s eyes widened but he remained in his position as Greece slid back down onto his pillow and opened the box. Inside were two silver rings-one much bigger than the other-two thin little bands that were delicate and beautiful. Greece pulled the larger one out and handed it to Japan, and he took the smaller one.
“What are we doing?” Japan asked. Greece smiled.
“We can’t get married for real, but we can do this,” he said, and he took Japan’s left hand, and slid the tiny silver ring onto his ring finger, over the nail and the thin knuckle, down to settle at where his fingers and palm connected. It fit perfectly. Japan pulled back and admired it when he realized that Greece was rubbing his face with his own left hand.
“And I?” he asked, and Greece nodded, and Japan took his hand and slid the ring onto his left finger, and wove his hands in, two thin pale hands in his large olive ones, and he pulled himself into Greece’s embrace and kissed him, and he allowed all of his emotion to pour into his kiss.
“Love you,” Japan murmured into Greece’s lips. “Love you, love you, love you... to God above and back.” He rubbed his nose to Greece’s, and for a few moments, he was just as expressive as America, as passionate as Italy, as angry as England, as zealous as Russia. This was the real Japan, the one with hundreds of years of unique culture that was flavorful and lively, that had so many intricate secrets and details that it was impossible to know everything about it.
Greece held him protectively, their legs tangled together, and there was no separation between them, they were one in the same, but of course that had happened years ago, and they were so comfortable with one another speaking was practically unnecessary. And it was a beautiful sight to behold.
The next morning, when the sun beat into the room through the gossamer curtains, and Greece was forced to open his eyes, he saw Japan lying still, sleeping peacefully, his right hand curled gingerly around his left, holding his precious non-wedding wedding ring.
The rest of the world be damned, there was nothing more perfect, Greece decided, then knowing and experiencing the scope of Japan’s emotions. It was a beautiful thing.
--
Omgoshilovethem.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): GreecexJapan
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some kissing, possible OOC-ness and un-beta'd shameless fluff.
Summary: To most people, Japan seemed emotionless. To Greece, the breadth of his emotional span was breathtakingly beautiful.
Notes: My own personal headcanon is that Japan only reserves his emotions for the most private of moments. I hope it's not too OOC and I hope you enjoy it! I'd love some feedback, this is my first time writing these two.
Original post
If there was one thing that Greece understood better than anyone else, it was the subtlety of Japan’s facial expressions. To the untrained eye, Japan seemed stoic, stony-faced and hardly bearing an expression besides, well, expression-less. Especially in comparison to the over-bearing America, who had the worst poker face on the planet. Really, it baffled Greece sometimes how they could be friends. Opposites attract, he supposed.
But Greece knew the small things that panned across Japan’s pale face that showed what he was feeling. The gentle slope of his eyebrows when he was confused, or the way his dark eyes lit up when he was happy, or the small furrows in his brow when angry. Sometimes Japan clenched his jaw when he was really angry, and when he was at peace, he breathed deeply and his ears turned a pale pink. He didn’t need the obnoxious facial expressions to express his emotions.
However, that didn’t mean that Japan was completely incapable of expressing in such a way. When his and Japan’s relationship went past the realm of friendship and into a lasting, romantic entanglement, America, as Japan’s best friend (really, how could they be such good friends?) had cornered Greece and asked-no, demanded-to know just how Japan was in bed. He had been thinking about it too much, he explained, and it freaked him out to think about Japan having no facial expression at all-or too much of one. Greece chose not to respond to that one.
There were certainly things about their relationship that people wondered, but both being such insanely private people, they were the couple everyone knew the least about. And Greece was happy about that, because that meant he could keep one of the most beautiful things he’d ever witnessed completely to himself.
It only happened in the dark, deepest recesses of the night, when they were talking in hushed voices, the moon their only source of light. All too often, Greece would be lying on his back, his head propped up by his huge pillows, and Japan would be leaning on his chest, his head resting in his arms, his normally impeccable hair every which way, his face shining with sweat, and the corners of his mouth would curve upwards, except they would go beyond the normal capacity of his smiles. His cheeks would squish together, and his eyes would crease, and his teeth were white and pearly, and he would smile the biggest, most beautiful smile Greece had ever seen. He would laugh loudly and his laugh would curl into the air, like wisps of smoke. And Greece would sit up and try to capture that happiness in his lips, and Japan would pull away and that same smile would be back, and he would stroke his cheek in the most tender of ways, and Greece always felt as if his heart would stop from how much he was in love with the man before him.
No one ever saw that smile. No one ever saw that beautiful inflection of his face. No one ever saw his other emotions, like how much he could cry when he was sad, or the way his face would scrunch together and he would let the tears fall onto Greece’s chest. Or how his eyes would light up with anger when he was frustrated, and his jaw would tighten and his fingers would curl into his palms and he would sometimes lapse into frustrated Japanese in the dead of night while he was expressing his anger.
...Or, especially, how his lips would part just the smallest bit, and his eyes would open, and he would look down at his lover and kiss his forehead, his cheek bones, his nose, his chin, every part of his face, lapping it up like it was the most delectable thing he’d ever tasted. And the look in his dark eyes, it was like Greece could see straight into his soul.
No one had any idea how much feeling Japan harbored beneath his stony exterior. It had taken a very long time for Japan to feel comfortable enough around Greece to express himself in such a way, but Greece knew that, once he had gotten over his emotional shyness, that their relationship had no real boundaries. And he liked it that way.
Japan laid his forehead gingerly to Greece’s, closing his eyes, and Greece felt his thick hair tickling his cheeks, and he wrapped his arms around him and rolled over, Japan laughing in surprise and glee, reaching up and wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling Greece’s head into his shoulder and kissing his ear, the only thing separating their bodies being a thin sheet, and that laugh, and that smile, oh, how it shook him to his very core. He could feel Japan gripping the back of his head, his thin fingers getting lost in his curly hair, and he laughed again, sweet and strong, and kissed his cheek, lingering there for awhile.
Greece turned his torso and realized he was right next to his face, his nose just touching Japan’s, and he smiled brightly at Greece, and Greece was overwhelmed. He pulled him to his lips and kissed them as gently as possible, and made audible the words he had been harboring in his heart.
“I love you,” he whispered. Japan kissed the bridge of his nose, hesitating a bit before laying his lips down. “Marry me.” Japan blinked, moving back gingerly, staring straight at Greece with those eyes. He looked startled and his cheeks flushed a shade of crimson Greece wasn’t sure he’d seen before.
“What?” he asked.
“Marry me.” Greece repeated. His heart was beating so hard he thought it was going to leap from his ribcage. Japan smiled a cheeky smile; one that literally no one else in the world knew even existed.
“You know we can’t,” he said, his voice soft. (It was always soft.) Greece shrugged.
“Is that a yes then?” and Japan laughed again and laid his chin on his folded hands. He nodded.
“If I could, you know I would,” he whispered. Greece sat up a bit and reached over to his bedside table, opening a drawer, and pulling out a small box. Japan’s eyes widened but he remained in his position as Greece slid back down onto his pillow and opened the box. Inside were two silver rings-one much bigger than the other-two thin little bands that were delicate and beautiful. Greece pulled the larger one out and handed it to Japan, and he took the smaller one.
“What are we doing?” Japan asked. Greece smiled.
“We can’t get married for real, but we can do this,” he said, and he took Japan’s left hand, and slid the tiny silver ring onto his ring finger, over the nail and the thin knuckle, down to settle at where his fingers and palm connected. It fit perfectly. Japan pulled back and admired it when he realized that Greece was rubbing his face with his own left hand.
“And I?” he asked, and Greece nodded, and Japan took his hand and slid the ring onto his left finger, and wove his hands in, two thin pale hands in his large olive ones, and he pulled himself into Greece’s embrace and kissed him, and he allowed all of his emotion to pour into his kiss.
“Love you,” Japan murmured into Greece’s lips. “Love you, love you, love you... to God above and back.” He rubbed his nose to Greece’s, and for a few moments, he was just as expressive as America, as passionate as Italy, as angry as England, as zealous as Russia. This was the real Japan, the one with hundreds of years of unique culture that was flavorful and lively, that had so many intricate secrets and details that it was impossible to know everything about it.
Greece held him protectively, their legs tangled together, and there was no separation between them, they were one in the same, but of course that had happened years ago, and they were so comfortable with one another speaking was practically unnecessary. And it was a beautiful sight to behold.
The next morning, when the sun beat into the room through the gossamer curtains, and Greece was forced to open his eyes, he saw Japan lying still, sleeping peacefully, his right hand curled gingerly around his left, holding his precious non-wedding wedding ring.
The rest of the world be damned, there was nothing more perfect, Greece decided, then knowing and experiencing the scope of Japan’s emotions. It was a beautiful thing.
--
Omgoshilovethem.