[APH] Touch [Giripan]
Title: Touch
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Japan and Greece; Giripan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Awkwardness, naked people, Japan thinking naughty naughty thoughts.
Summary: Greece's body has to be inspected every 10 days. Since they're stuck at a conference, Greece asks Japan to do it, much to Japan's joy dismay.
Notes: All I do is de-anon from the kink meme. Do I write anything original anymore? Anyway, the prompt was something about Japan inspecting Greece's super hot body for him. Good times.
"You want me to- to what?"
Greece wanted to laugh at the absurd expression painted across Japan's delicate features. He thought it would be rude, though, so he didn't. Instead he just smiled, licked his lips and nodded.
"Yes. I forgot that I was supposed to be having this done. The form, it's in my email-"
"What? What form?" Japan asked, and his face paled. He had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon, a welcome break from days of deliberation, yelling matches and mountains of paper work. He'd just been sitting on the back veranda, curled up on a bench, wearing the only casual clothes he brought to what was supposed to be a two-day conference that had become a monster of a week.
And then Greece had approached him with a ridiculous notion.
"My boss likes to have it done every ten days in the summer," Greece explained. "Like the old times."
"And why, exactly?" Japan asked, curling his legs under his body as Greece sat down beside him. Greece shrugged.
"I haven't always been sure, but I think it's because my body shows immediately when there is something wrong, you know? I bruise easily sometimes," he said, gesturing to a bruise that was on his upper arm. "That's from a bit of land shifting the other day. They have this entire chart how each part of my body represents a part of the country- someone just has to do the actual examination."
"So, why me? Why don't you have whoever does it, do it?" Japan asked, bewildered. Greece glanced down at Japan's thin, deft hands, and then back up into his eyes.
"It needs to be someone who knows the body," Greece explained, and Japan flushed. "So they know what to write if they see anything. And someone whom I trust."
"And you trust no one else?" Japan asked, his face hot. (It was only warm because of the impropriety of the request, definitely not because he was very eager to see Greece's olive skin, and his defined body-)
"You trust me with many things," Greece offered. "So I trust you with this one thing that is very important."
"I've never even heard of you doing this," Japan insisted, although he scooted just a bit closer to Greece.
"It only happens in the summer, when tourists come and easily much things up, I suppose," Greece explained. He shifted and cracked his back and his shoulders and Japan had to hurry his eyes away from the sight. (He was getting too involved with watching the edge of Greece's shoulder flex as he moved.)
"Please, I'm already a day late," Greece insisted. "It will only take a little of your time. Then you can go back to whatever you were doing. I want to nap myself."
"Does... does it require all of your clothes coming off at once?" Japan asked. He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle a completely nude Greece. Not when just the sight of Greece sent his heart fluttering. Greece shook his head, his hair just hitting the tips of his shoulders.
"I can take them off as you go down-"
"Do what?!"
"...go down my body...?" Greece finished, raising an eyebrow. Japan's face was ablaze with embarrassment. He was such an awkward fool. "It won't be bad, I promise, Japan. I just... I just need to send the form to my boss saying that there is either nothing wrong with me, or a certain part of me is doing something and maybe they should look into it."
Japan looked at Greece, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. There were no ulterior motives here. He just wanted this done so he could go back to being ridiculously lazy like the rest of the nations.
Japan closed his eyes and sighed.
"I'll do it," he said, and Greece smiled happily. "Where shall we go?"
"I found a room in Spain's house that isn't really used," Greece said, and the two wandered inside Spain's gigantic home. It was rare that a world meeting hosted at Spain's became such an issue (especially in the summer when it was deathly hot), but this was just one of those weeks. Most of the other nations were either hiding in air conditioning or as far away as possible from the house, which is where they'd been cooped up for days.
Greece grabbed his laptop from a table and Japan followed him into a small room near the back of the house. It was one of several small, identical rooms, each one with a simple window, a carpeted floor and either very little or no furniture.
"These used to be servant rooms," Greece said as Japan eyed the room. "Spain told me. He said he just stores things in them sometimes, but he prefers his attic for that so... they're just here."
"Right," Japan muttered, and he noticed a small table and chair in the corner of the room. The room was filled with sunlight, and Greece closed the door as Japan dragged the table closer to the center of the room.
"This natural light is good," Greece said, squinting into it. "And 'sides, no one will see through this window. This is perfect."
"Alright then," Japan said, and he placed the laptop on the counter. "So, now what?"
"There's a form to fill out, with a little box next to each section of my body, and some lines. You can just write in that notebook and then I can transcribe it to the form," Greece explained. Japan picked up the little notebook and pulled the pencil from inside of it, his eyes glancing over the notes written in Greek already in the book. He looked up at Greece.
"Ready?" Greece asked. Japan could only nod. Greece then shed his t-shirt, deftly pulling it off his torso and tossing it aside. The sun seemed to glint off of his body, and Japan gulped. (Loudly.) It was then Japan realized he was about chest-height to Greece while standing, which was a problem. Greece noticed as well.
"I can kneel," he offered. "The woman who does this sometimes is shorter than you." Before Japan could protest, Greece fell to his knees, making his back straighter, his arms laying straight at his sides.
Japan had to jump back in surprise, nearly dropping the notebook. It didn't help that Greece was now about waist-high on Japan, kneeling before him, without a shirt on. In the middle of the day.
My life is becoming every bad high school doujinshi I've ever read, Japan thought to himself, but he recomposed himself and stepped forward again.
"Alright, I-I guess I'm going to start then," Japan said, his voice cracking slightly. He winced at his own awkwardness. Greece closed his eyes and released a slow breath through his nose. He knew what he was doing. Japan stepped up to Greece and stared at his forehead, unsure of what to do.
"It's easier if you touch," Greece muttered. "Just make a line with your hand. You won't forget where you've already looked if you do." Japan nodded and swallowed again, and gingerly touched his fingertips to Greece's forehead.
He trailed his fingers down Greece's nose, just barely touching him, down his lips (Greece smiled then) and to the tip of his chin, carefully looking for any discrepancies on Greece's face. Of course, all Japan could see was the strong jawline, the graceful curve of his cheekbones and the slight glow his tanned skin gave off in the afternoon sunlight.
Japan moved his fingers down Greece's neck, along his defined collarbone and onto his taught shoulders. (He could feel the muscle just beneath the skin, and it was smooth and strong and Japan wondered if Greece could sweep him from his feet.) He was surprised at how soft Greece's skin was, especially after years of spending hours in the sun.
Greece hummed a bit, and Japan felt the vibrations through his chest. Japan gulped again, trying not to think about anything below the shoulders. He grazed over the bruise on Greece's upper arm, and he heard a small intake of breath as he probably pushed a bit too hard on the wound. He walked around Greece's body to his back-- and nearly had to stop.
The definition of Greece's back was remarkable. His shoulder blades were broad and well-defined, and he could practically see the sinews connecting his powerful deltoid muscles along his upper shoulders to the bone. All along his back, Japan could see slight dips into the spaces between his muscles, as he had practically no fat. White, faded scars decorated his back like an engraving, scars from wars and turmoil. His broad shoulders thinned into a trim waist, and the muscles located at the base of his spine were just as well-defined as the top of his back.
In short, Greece was just as beautiful as his statues.
"Something wrong?" Greece asked, and Japan realized he had been gaping at Greece's back. Japan composed himself (again) and crouched at Greece's back, eyeing every curve of the muscle. He wanted to just trace every defined muscle and taste every bit of the few edges of bone that pushed through his skin--
Japan blinked and shook his head, as if trying to shake the thoughts from his head. He tenderly touched the top of Greece's neck, trying not to press too hard (not for Greece's sake, for his own, if he touched even more he may not be able to stop-)
"Check the spine," Greece said. "Run a finger down it, make sure all the nerves are connected right."
"Is that often a problem?" Japan wondered, but he did as he was told. As he reached the bottom of Greece's spine, Greece gave a delicious, involuntary shiver as Japan's finger hit every sensitive nerve that connected to his spine. Japan smiled. The idea of making Greece move like that-- such a small movement, but one of pure feeling and reaction-- made him happier than he could explain. Just as he was relishing in the idea of Greece buckling to his touch,
"If there's nothing wrong with my spine, you can move on," Greece said suddenly, and there was a tone in his voice that said I can tell you're lingering. Japan's face heated up once again and he mumbled something nonsensically to himself, immediately pulling his hands away from Greece's back. The next time he touched Greece, this time on his left shoulder, the exciting spark had turned into an awkward, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of Japan's stomach.
He knew that this examination was going to be equal parts incredibly amazing and incredibly, unbearably, awkward.
--
Japan had to fight with all of his being to pull his fingertips away from Greece’s broad shoulders. The flesh was a little bit tender, as Greece had winced the tiniest bit when Japan pressed across his upper back, and Japan noted it down in the little notebook. Japan stopped, staring at the back of Greece’s head.
“Um...”
“Check the back of my neck,” Greece said, and he bent his head forwards the smallest bit. “It represents Volos.” Japan reached out and slid his hand gently over his neck, pushing his dark hair from the nape and applying just the slightest pressure. Greece’s skin was warm and his hairline was slightly moist with sweat from the heat of the day. Japan ran his hand up farther along the back of Greece’s head, and he spread his fingers, Greece’s fine, mahogany curls sliding over his fingers. Japan stared at them, taking in the stark contrast between his fair skin and the dark curls. His fingers twitched, and he was overcome with the desire to run his hand through Greece’s hair.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Japan flushed furiously, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. The fact that he had even put his entire hand to Greece’s head was improper enough, and now he was imagining caressing Greece’s head.
He glanced at Greece, who was still sitting patiently, cross-legged on the floor, his head bowed forwards. Japan leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of his face, and he saw dark lashes curving along high cheekbones. Greece’s chest was rising and falling gently. He seemed to have dozed off.
Gulping loudly, Japan was about to take his hand from Greece’s head when his hand slid, and he could feel Greece’s scalp beneath his palm, and he did it. He ran his hand through Greece’s hair, ending at the two curls that stood so defiantly at the crown of his head. Japan immediately pulled back, his face dark with embarrassment.
“G-Greece-san?” he asked tentatively. Greece took a deep breath and wiggled his shoulders, lifting his head. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled at Japan.
“Sorry, fílo,” Greece replied, yawning. “I’m very tired.”
“I see,” Japan said, and Greece stood up, stretching his arms over his head.
“Now you have to do the lower half,” Greece said, and Japan’s eyes trailed down Greece’s taught abdomen, down his abdominals until his shorts cut him off, right where his pelvic bone was jutting through his skin. Japan’s eyes fluttered back to Greece, who looked ready to continue. Japan gulped again.
“I don’t think I need to kneel for this part,” Greece said, as he began working on his belt. Japan could only shake his head in agreement. His hands were twisting together in front of him, the pen flipping through his fingers in nervous habit.
He was going to see Greece. Greece, one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen. And he was going to see him nude.
He was going to see Greece completely naked.
Greece slid the old leather belt from the loops and dropped it onto the floor, and then took to the button on his shorts. Japan glanced away out of habit as his shorts fell about his ankles, and he stepped out of them and laid them with the belt. There was another rustle of fabric, and Japan felt his heart speeding up in his chest, his eyes clenched shut. He couldn’t look.
“Japan?” Greece said finally. “Please, this is very important.” Japan sighed and turned his head, opening his eyes. He nearly dropped both the pen and the notebook upon the sight of Greece.
Greece looked as if he had stepped out of a painting, or one of his statues had come to life. His legs seemed much longer without anything covering them, and his torso smoothed into his somewhat wide hips seamlessly, extending into two well-defined thighs and calves. Greece shifted his shoulders and flexed his toes in the plush carpet, standing stock still, legs only a little bit apart. Japan swallowed thickly as he stepped forwards to Greece, trying his hardest to keep his eyes everywhere but right below Greece’s belt line.
Greece was rather... well hung, and it made Japan’s heart beat so fast he felt like he would faint. Japan placed his fingers on Greece’s abdomen, which were firm, and trailed them down the muscles there. Japan silently wondered what was represented by Greece’s abdominals, and was successfully distracting himself with this thought when Greece gave another small shudder. Japan glanced up at Greece’s face, wondering if it was something he had done, when he was caught off-guard by Greece’s face.
Greece’s eyes were closed, and although he had a neutral face for most of the examination, his brows were furrowed now, and he was biting his lower lip. He had a rosy flush to his cheeks and his breathing sped up the tiniest bit, his shoulders visibly moving with the rapid breath. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to calm down. Japan stared at his face with wide eyes.
“Greece, Greece are you alright?” Japan asked warily. Greece nodded and said nothing. Japan looked back down at Greece’s stomach, bring his hands to his bony hips.
It suddenly dawned on Japan that he not only had to look at Greece’s groin, he had to.... examine it somehow. And his buttocks.
Inwardly, Japan groaned, and he started crouching down to the floor to be level with the body part he was touching. He stopped at Greece’s hips, shook his head violently, and scittered to Greece’s backside, avoiding the inevitable for the time being.
He could have sworn he heard Greece give a sigh of relief when he went around his body, but Japan probably just imaged it.
Now that he was safely kneeling on the floor behind Greece, Japan realized that at the height he was crouched at, he was eye-level with the backs of Greece’s knees. His cheeks blazed with embarrassment and he was almost afraid to touch Greece again, but he was suddenly distracted by a nest of scars on the back of Greece’s right knee. They were very light, practically white, some thicker than others, and they were in long, jagged groups, going in every direction. They were clearly very old, and Japan wondered just what could have happened to cause this. He reached out and touched the scars gently, just barely laying his fingers along the skin. Greece let out a slow breath.
“You have a scar here...” Japan said softly. “It’s on the back of your knee.”
“Oh, yes, that-I forgot about that,” Greece admitted. “That’s from a very, very long time ago. Nothing has re-opened, correct?” Japan shook his head, realized Greece couldn’t see him, and responded “No,” to the inquiry.
“Then I wouldn’t focus on it.” Japan cleared his throat and drew his finger down the back of Greece’s defined calf, riding over the muscles and dappled flesh where each sinew and connecting fiber lay. His skin was smooth and the hair growing on his legs was strangely soft. Japan reached his ankle and hit some patches of dry skin along his heel, but there was nothing out of the ordinary there. His mind was still taken by the scar, however, and he was rather curious as to how Greece had acquired the injury. Japan checked his other leg in similar fashion and then Japan sat up straighter on his knees and found himself face-to-face with a fine set of toned buttocks.
He blushed again and immediately moved to the right, to Greece’s elbow and the back of his arm. His elbow was ridiculously dry, some of the skin near-white and cracked. Japan frowned and looked down his arm to find patches of his wrist the same way.
“Your elbows are really dry, do you have something for them?” Japan asked. Greece gestured to where his shorts lay, discarded.
“I keep a small bottle of lotion in my pocket for them,” Greece explained. He shifted. “They’re always so dry, no matter what time of year it is.”
“I see,” Japan noted, and he stopped at Greece’s limp hand. It was just hanging beside him, the fingers slightly curled into the palm, and Japan took the hand and extended the fingers to examine them. He tapped the base of each finger, looking for that involuntary twitch that every nerve and muscle was connected correctly, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to kiss Greece’s fingertips.
Japan blinked, noticing how close the fingers were to his lips (had he done that?) and tried to fight off the insane sensation building from his stomach up. What was he thinking? He couldn’t-couldn’t kiss Greece’s fingers. That’s crazy!
But as he knelt there, behind Greece, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted those broad, perfectly manicured fingers to ghost over his skin and apply slight pressure with the touch. He wanted Greece to be enamored with the lightness of his complexion, the creamy feel of his skin, and to be unabashedly turned on by examining him.
Where all these emotions had come from, Japan was unsure, but now he couldn’t stop his face from flaming, nor could he deny the tightening of his pants around his fly.
He had to admit to himself, as he lowered Greece’s arm (but lingered on his hand), that Greece was beautiful, and yes, Japan was a lover of beautiful things. He loved flowers, and small animals, and the air and water and traveling-all beautiful things.
Greece gave a sigh from up above.
“I’m almost finished, Greece-“ he stopped himself from tacking ‘san’ onto the end, and instead looked back down at his small, pale hand wedged into Greece’s larger, tanned one. He didn’t want Greece to just be a ‘san’ to him.
Japan closed his eyes and took a breath, still on his knees. He then stood up, using Greece’s arm as his wall, and walked around to Greece’s front. Greece had his eyes closed and his head bowed just so, and his eyelids fluttered open as Japan was standing in front of him.
“I-I’ve just got one more area to check,” Japan murmured, using all his strength to keep from blushing like mad. Greece gave a slight nod, more a tilt of the head, and looked up at the ceiling. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Al-alright,” Japan said, gulping. He then slowly lowered himself so he was navel-height on Greece, and he was momentarily transfixed by the hard cut abdominals he was facing. They were smooth and surprisingly felt soft, even with the hard muscle underneath. Muscles rippled all the way up Greece’s chest, reflecting a strong, ancient heritage in their tendons. Greece placed both hands on Greece’s abdomen, still crouching, and Greece gave a shudder.
“Greece? Are you-“
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a bit choked. Japan nodded and slid his hands down his stomach, over his bony hips and down his thighs, applying the slightest bits of pressure as he went. A small bruise had formed on Greece’s inner thigh, but other than that the limbs were perfection. Japan continued down his legs, breezing past the offending organ hanging from Greece’s hips (much to his relief) and he lowered himself down to his knees, running his fingertips down Greece’s legs to the tops of his feet. Nothing else seemed amiss, and nothing else happened. Japan reeled back on his haunches and fell onto his hips, leaning back, breathing hard. His face was red and his stomach was filled with butterflies but he was finished. Greece cracked open an eye and looked down at him.
“F-finished,” Japan stuttered. Greece opened both eyes and broke his stance, taking a step back and stretched his shoulders. Japan looked up, trying to bypass all of Greece’s features to settle on his face, but he found his eyes wandering and he quickly looked away, closing his eyes and catching his breath. He heard movement and felt the slight breeze as Greece walked by him, sliding back into his clothes. Japan was still breathing rapidly, and he lay on his back, eyes closed, trying to cool himself down. His heart was beating like mad and his chest heaved. Greece was still walking around the room, Japan willed himself to disappear, to vanish into thin air and reappear somewhere, anywhere else.
When Japan finally sat up, Greece was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, wearing only his shorts. He was running a hand through his curly mop and down his face, looking worn. He looked up and his eyes locked with Japan’s, and he gave Japan a weak smile. (Japan could have sworn he saw pink in Greece’s normally tanned face, but he could have been wrong.) Greece then broadened his smile and beckoned him over. Japan knelt across from Greece, his hands planted firmly in his lap. Greece stretched and yawned, rubbing his eyes with his hand.
“Thank you, Japan,” he said, and he patted the carpet next to him. Japan hesitated for a moment, still flushing from the inspection, but he obliged and crawled over to sit beside Greece, their hips touching ever so gently. They sat in silence for a moment, Greece still rubbing at his face. Suddenly, two toned arms surrounded Japan, and Greece tugged the two of them down onto the carpet, side-by-side, Japan wrapped in Greece’s embrace. Japan was laying half-way on his side, his torso facing Greece, his cheeks burning. Greece smiled and yawned again. He laid his forehead to Japan’s and closed his eyes.
“G-Greece-“
“You looked tired,” was all Greece said. Japan shifted in Greece’s arms and laid his head more comfortably against the carpet. Admittedly, he was tired, although he rarely napped. But the day was so warm and they had so much time before the next meeting....
He felt a pair of lips pressed against his forehead. Japan snapped his head back, surprised at the motion, but didn’t move away. Greece smiled lazily at him, and in one fell swoop he took Japan’s lips in his own. It was a soft peck, just a pressing of the lips together, but Japan breathed deeply into the kiss and curled his hands beside Greece’s chest, wiggling just a bit closer.
The kiss didn’t deepen any further; it was more like they were hovering before one another, lips on lips, just pressing, as if trying to soak each other up into their skin. Finally Greece pulled away, inhaling through his nose and looking Japan straight in the eye.
“I can translate the notes, I think, and then send them to my boss,” Greece said. Japan just nodded, stunned into silence from Greece’s forward actions. Greece’s eyes roamed Japan’s face, taking in every crease, every fold of skin, every eyelash and stray hair. Japan felt like he was being observed by a child behind a wall of glass.
“...Greece, why did-“
“You didn’t say ‘san’,” Greece said, cutting him off. “You didn’t during the entire inspection.” Japan just stared back at him, unsure of how to respond.
“I-I mean, m-maybe I should have, it was such a f-formal situation-“
“I like it,” Greece interrupted again. Japan spread his fingers along Greece’s chest, and Greece tightened his grip. “I don’t want you to think we’re so separate that you have to say that.”
Japan swore he could cook using his forehead at this very moment. He swallowed harshly. Their relationship was twisted and complicated; on the outside, they appeared to be just good friends, people who shared common interests. Behind closed doors, however, they were something else entirely. Japan had shown more of himself to Greece than anyone he could even remember, and Greece had been the forerunner of him discovering more of himself. Japan had never felt this way about anyone else, but he wasn’t even sure of what it was he was feeling. Whatever it was, he liked it, and didn’t want it to go away.
“What do you say that, after the meeting, we go to that place that Spain was talking about?” Greece asked, pulling Japan’s head into his chest.
“...what place?”
“The restaurant that he likes,” Greece said, and he ran a hand soothingly through Japan’s hair. Japan just made his grip on Greece tighter.
“Why?”
“As a thank-you,” Greece replied. “And, so we can finally have a proper date.” Japan’s heart stopped beating for a moment. He stiffened in Greece’s arms. “I’ve been trying to get you to go on a date with me for... months, but with my economy... I’ve been sick, and my boss has needed me, so...”
“Y-you have?” Japan stammered. He mentally chided himself, why couldn’t he stop stuttering? He sounded like a loon. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing; Greece was proposing a relationship? After Japan had done something so ridiculously awkward?
“I mean, only if you want to-“
“-I-I want to!-“
“-okay.” With that, Greece closed his eyes, and Japan nudged his head into the crook of Greece’s neck, a place he’d been before but this time, there wasn’t just sexual tension and questions, but the promise of something more. Japan relaxed, taking in the sight of Greece’s collarbone connecting to his shoulder, and admiring it just as much as he had before.
--
I battled with myself whether to end this in smut or not and I opted for not, because it seemed... wrong somehow. o_o GIVE ME CRITS.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Japan and Greece; Giripan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Awkwardness, naked people, Japan thinking naughty naughty thoughts.
Summary: Greece's body has to be inspected every 10 days. Since they're stuck at a conference, Greece asks Japan to do it, much to Japan's joy dismay.
Notes: All I do is de-anon from the kink meme. Do I write anything original anymore? Anyway, the prompt was something about Japan inspecting Greece's super hot body for him. Good times.
"You want me to- to what?"
Greece wanted to laugh at the absurd expression painted across Japan's delicate features. He thought it would be rude, though, so he didn't. Instead he just smiled, licked his lips and nodded.
"Yes. I forgot that I was supposed to be having this done. The form, it's in my email-"
"What? What form?" Japan asked, and his face paled. He had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon, a welcome break from days of deliberation, yelling matches and mountains of paper work. He'd just been sitting on the back veranda, curled up on a bench, wearing the only casual clothes he brought to what was supposed to be a two-day conference that had become a monster of a week.
And then Greece had approached him with a ridiculous notion.
"My boss likes to have it done every ten days in the summer," Greece explained. "Like the old times."
"And why, exactly?" Japan asked, curling his legs under his body as Greece sat down beside him. Greece shrugged.
"I haven't always been sure, but I think it's because my body shows immediately when there is something wrong, you know? I bruise easily sometimes," he said, gesturing to a bruise that was on his upper arm. "That's from a bit of land shifting the other day. They have this entire chart how each part of my body represents a part of the country- someone just has to do the actual examination."
"So, why me? Why don't you have whoever does it, do it?" Japan asked, bewildered. Greece glanced down at Japan's thin, deft hands, and then back up into his eyes.
"It needs to be someone who knows the body," Greece explained, and Japan flushed. "So they know what to write if they see anything. And someone whom I trust."
"And you trust no one else?" Japan asked, his face hot. (It was only warm because of the impropriety of the request, definitely not because he was very eager to see Greece's olive skin, and his defined body-)
"You trust me with many things," Greece offered. "So I trust you with this one thing that is very important."
"I've never even heard of you doing this," Japan insisted, although he scooted just a bit closer to Greece.
"It only happens in the summer, when tourists come and easily much things up, I suppose," Greece explained. He shifted and cracked his back and his shoulders and Japan had to hurry his eyes away from the sight. (He was getting too involved with watching the edge of Greece's shoulder flex as he moved.)
"Please, I'm already a day late," Greece insisted. "It will only take a little of your time. Then you can go back to whatever you were doing. I want to nap myself."
"Does... does it require all of your clothes coming off at once?" Japan asked. He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle a completely nude Greece. Not when just the sight of Greece sent his heart fluttering. Greece shook his head, his hair just hitting the tips of his shoulders.
"I can take them off as you go down-"
"Do what?!"
"...go down my body...?" Greece finished, raising an eyebrow. Japan's face was ablaze with embarrassment. He was such an awkward fool. "It won't be bad, I promise, Japan. I just... I just need to send the form to my boss saying that there is either nothing wrong with me, or a certain part of me is doing something and maybe they should look into it."
Japan looked at Greece, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. There were no ulterior motives here. He just wanted this done so he could go back to being ridiculously lazy like the rest of the nations.
Japan closed his eyes and sighed.
"I'll do it," he said, and Greece smiled happily. "Where shall we go?"
"I found a room in Spain's house that isn't really used," Greece said, and the two wandered inside Spain's gigantic home. It was rare that a world meeting hosted at Spain's became such an issue (especially in the summer when it was deathly hot), but this was just one of those weeks. Most of the other nations were either hiding in air conditioning or as far away as possible from the house, which is where they'd been cooped up for days.
Greece grabbed his laptop from a table and Japan followed him into a small room near the back of the house. It was one of several small, identical rooms, each one with a simple window, a carpeted floor and either very little or no furniture.
"These used to be servant rooms," Greece said as Japan eyed the room. "Spain told me. He said he just stores things in them sometimes, but he prefers his attic for that so... they're just here."
"Right," Japan muttered, and he noticed a small table and chair in the corner of the room. The room was filled with sunlight, and Greece closed the door as Japan dragged the table closer to the center of the room.
"This natural light is good," Greece said, squinting into it. "And 'sides, no one will see through this window. This is perfect."
"Alright then," Japan said, and he placed the laptop on the counter. "So, now what?"
"There's a form to fill out, with a little box next to each section of my body, and some lines. You can just write in that notebook and then I can transcribe it to the form," Greece explained. Japan picked up the little notebook and pulled the pencil from inside of it, his eyes glancing over the notes written in Greek already in the book. He looked up at Greece.
"Ready?" Greece asked. Japan could only nod. Greece then shed his t-shirt, deftly pulling it off his torso and tossing it aside. The sun seemed to glint off of his body, and Japan gulped. (Loudly.) It was then Japan realized he was about chest-height to Greece while standing, which was a problem. Greece noticed as well.
"I can kneel," he offered. "The woman who does this sometimes is shorter than you." Before Japan could protest, Greece fell to his knees, making his back straighter, his arms laying straight at his sides.
Japan had to jump back in surprise, nearly dropping the notebook. It didn't help that Greece was now about waist-high on Japan, kneeling before him, without a shirt on. In the middle of the day.
My life is becoming every bad high school doujinshi I've ever read, Japan thought to himself, but he recomposed himself and stepped forward again.
"Alright, I-I guess I'm going to start then," Japan said, his voice cracking slightly. He winced at his own awkwardness. Greece closed his eyes and released a slow breath through his nose. He knew what he was doing. Japan stepped up to Greece and stared at his forehead, unsure of what to do.
"It's easier if you touch," Greece muttered. "Just make a line with your hand. You won't forget where you've already looked if you do." Japan nodded and swallowed again, and gingerly touched his fingertips to Greece's forehead.
He trailed his fingers down Greece's nose, just barely touching him, down his lips (Greece smiled then) and to the tip of his chin, carefully looking for any discrepancies on Greece's face. Of course, all Japan could see was the strong jawline, the graceful curve of his cheekbones and the slight glow his tanned skin gave off in the afternoon sunlight.
Japan moved his fingers down Greece's neck, along his defined collarbone and onto his taught shoulders. (He could feel the muscle just beneath the skin, and it was smooth and strong and Japan wondered if Greece could sweep him from his feet.) He was surprised at how soft Greece's skin was, especially after years of spending hours in the sun.
Greece hummed a bit, and Japan felt the vibrations through his chest. Japan gulped again, trying not to think about anything below the shoulders. He grazed over the bruise on Greece's upper arm, and he heard a small intake of breath as he probably pushed a bit too hard on the wound. He walked around Greece's body to his back-- and nearly had to stop.
The definition of Greece's back was remarkable. His shoulder blades were broad and well-defined, and he could practically see the sinews connecting his powerful deltoid muscles along his upper shoulders to the bone. All along his back, Japan could see slight dips into the spaces between his muscles, as he had practically no fat. White, faded scars decorated his back like an engraving, scars from wars and turmoil. His broad shoulders thinned into a trim waist, and the muscles located at the base of his spine were just as well-defined as the top of his back.
In short, Greece was just as beautiful as his statues.
"Something wrong?" Greece asked, and Japan realized he had been gaping at Greece's back. Japan composed himself (again) and crouched at Greece's back, eyeing every curve of the muscle. He wanted to just trace every defined muscle and taste every bit of the few edges of bone that pushed through his skin--
Japan blinked and shook his head, as if trying to shake the thoughts from his head. He tenderly touched the top of Greece's neck, trying not to press too hard (not for Greece's sake, for his own, if he touched even more he may not be able to stop-)
"Check the spine," Greece said. "Run a finger down it, make sure all the nerves are connected right."
"Is that often a problem?" Japan wondered, but he did as he was told. As he reached the bottom of Greece's spine, Greece gave a delicious, involuntary shiver as Japan's finger hit every sensitive nerve that connected to his spine. Japan smiled. The idea of making Greece move like that-- such a small movement, but one of pure feeling and reaction-- made him happier than he could explain. Just as he was relishing in the idea of Greece buckling to his touch,
"If there's nothing wrong with my spine, you can move on," Greece said suddenly, and there was a tone in his voice that said I can tell you're lingering. Japan's face heated up once again and he mumbled something nonsensically to himself, immediately pulling his hands away from Greece's back. The next time he touched Greece, this time on his left shoulder, the exciting spark had turned into an awkward, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of Japan's stomach.
He knew that this examination was going to be equal parts incredibly amazing and incredibly, unbearably, awkward.
--
Japan had to fight with all of his being to pull his fingertips away from Greece’s broad shoulders. The flesh was a little bit tender, as Greece had winced the tiniest bit when Japan pressed across his upper back, and Japan noted it down in the little notebook. Japan stopped, staring at the back of Greece’s head.
“Um...”
“Check the back of my neck,” Greece said, and he bent his head forwards the smallest bit. “It represents Volos.” Japan reached out and slid his hand gently over his neck, pushing his dark hair from the nape and applying just the slightest pressure. Greece’s skin was warm and his hairline was slightly moist with sweat from the heat of the day. Japan ran his hand up farther along the back of Greece’s head, and he spread his fingers, Greece’s fine, mahogany curls sliding over his fingers. Japan stared at them, taking in the stark contrast between his fair skin and the dark curls. His fingers twitched, and he was overcome with the desire to run his hand through Greece’s hair.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Japan flushed furiously, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. The fact that he had even put his entire hand to Greece’s head was improper enough, and now he was imagining caressing Greece’s head.
He glanced at Greece, who was still sitting patiently, cross-legged on the floor, his head bowed forwards. Japan leaned to the side to catch a glimpse of his face, and he saw dark lashes curving along high cheekbones. Greece’s chest was rising and falling gently. He seemed to have dozed off.
Gulping loudly, Japan was about to take his hand from Greece’s head when his hand slid, and he could feel Greece’s scalp beneath his palm, and he did it. He ran his hand through Greece’s hair, ending at the two curls that stood so defiantly at the crown of his head. Japan immediately pulled back, his face dark with embarrassment.
“G-Greece-san?” he asked tentatively. Greece took a deep breath and wiggled his shoulders, lifting his head. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled at Japan.
“Sorry, fílo,” Greece replied, yawning. “I’m very tired.”
“I see,” Japan said, and Greece stood up, stretching his arms over his head.
“Now you have to do the lower half,” Greece said, and Japan’s eyes trailed down Greece’s taught abdomen, down his abdominals until his shorts cut him off, right where his pelvic bone was jutting through his skin. Japan’s eyes fluttered back to Greece, who looked ready to continue. Japan gulped again.
“I don’t think I need to kneel for this part,” Greece said, as he began working on his belt. Japan could only shake his head in agreement. His hands were twisting together in front of him, the pen flipping through his fingers in nervous habit.
He was going to see Greece. Greece, one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen. And he was going to see him nude.
He was going to see Greece completely naked.
Greece slid the old leather belt from the loops and dropped it onto the floor, and then took to the button on his shorts. Japan glanced away out of habit as his shorts fell about his ankles, and he stepped out of them and laid them with the belt. There was another rustle of fabric, and Japan felt his heart speeding up in his chest, his eyes clenched shut. He couldn’t look.
“Japan?” Greece said finally. “Please, this is very important.” Japan sighed and turned his head, opening his eyes. He nearly dropped both the pen and the notebook upon the sight of Greece.
Greece looked as if he had stepped out of a painting, or one of his statues had come to life. His legs seemed much longer without anything covering them, and his torso smoothed into his somewhat wide hips seamlessly, extending into two well-defined thighs and calves. Greece shifted his shoulders and flexed his toes in the plush carpet, standing stock still, legs only a little bit apart. Japan swallowed thickly as he stepped forwards to Greece, trying his hardest to keep his eyes everywhere but right below Greece’s belt line.
Greece was rather... well hung, and it made Japan’s heart beat so fast he felt like he would faint. Japan placed his fingers on Greece’s abdomen, which were firm, and trailed them down the muscles there. Japan silently wondered what was represented by Greece’s abdominals, and was successfully distracting himself with this thought when Greece gave another small shudder. Japan glanced up at Greece’s face, wondering if it was something he had done, when he was caught off-guard by Greece’s face.
Greece’s eyes were closed, and although he had a neutral face for most of the examination, his brows were furrowed now, and he was biting his lower lip. He had a rosy flush to his cheeks and his breathing sped up the tiniest bit, his shoulders visibly moving with the rapid breath. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to calm down. Japan stared at his face with wide eyes.
“Greece, Greece are you alright?” Japan asked warily. Greece nodded and said nothing. Japan looked back down at Greece’s stomach, bring his hands to his bony hips.
It suddenly dawned on Japan that he not only had to look at Greece’s groin, he had to.... examine it somehow. And his buttocks.
Inwardly, Japan groaned, and he started crouching down to the floor to be level with the body part he was touching. He stopped at Greece’s hips, shook his head violently, and scittered to Greece’s backside, avoiding the inevitable for the time being.
He could have sworn he heard Greece give a sigh of relief when he went around his body, but Japan probably just imaged it.
Now that he was safely kneeling on the floor behind Greece, Japan realized that at the height he was crouched at, he was eye-level with the backs of Greece’s knees. His cheeks blazed with embarrassment and he was almost afraid to touch Greece again, but he was suddenly distracted by a nest of scars on the back of Greece’s right knee. They were very light, practically white, some thicker than others, and they were in long, jagged groups, going in every direction. They were clearly very old, and Japan wondered just what could have happened to cause this. He reached out and touched the scars gently, just barely laying his fingers along the skin. Greece let out a slow breath.
“You have a scar here...” Japan said softly. “It’s on the back of your knee.”
“Oh, yes, that-I forgot about that,” Greece admitted. “That’s from a very, very long time ago. Nothing has re-opened, correct?” Japan shook his head, realized Greece couldn’t see him, and responded “No,” to the inquiry.
“Then I wouldn’t focus on it.” Japan cleared his throat and drew his finger down the back of Greece’s defined calf, riding over the muscles and dappled flesh where each sinew and connecting fiber lay. His skin was smooth and the hair growing on his legs was strangely soft. Japan reached his ankle and hit some patches of dry skin along his heel, but there was nothing out of the ordinary there. His mind was still taken by the scar, however, and he was rather curious as to how Greece had acquired the injury. Japan checked his other leg in similar fashion and then Japan sat up straighter on his knees and found himself face-to-face with a fine set of toned buttocks.
He blushed again and immediately moved to the right, to Greece’s elbow and the back of his arm. His elbow was ridiculously dry, some of the skin near-white and cracked. Japan frowned and looked down his arm to find patches of his wrist the same way.
“Your elbows are really dry, do you have something for them?” Japan asked. Greece gestured to where his shorts lay, discarded.
“I keep a small bottle of lotion in my pocket for them,” Greece explained. He shifted. “They’re always so dry, no matter what time of year it is.”
“I see,” Japan noted, and he stopped at Greece’s limp hand. It was just hanging beside him, the fingers slightly curled into the palm, and Japan took the hand and extended the fingers to examine them. He tapped the base of each finger, looking for that involuntary twitch that every nerve and muscle was connected correctly, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to kiss Greece’s fingertips.
Japan blinked, noticing how close the fingers were to his lips (had he done that?) and tried to fight off the insane sensation building from his stomach up. What was he thinking? He couldn’t-couldn’t kiss Greece’s fingers. That’s crazy!
But as he knelt there, behind Greece, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted those broad, perfectly manicured fingers to ghost over his skin and apply slight pressure with the touch. He wanted Greece to be enamored with the lightness of his complexion, the creamy feel of his skin, and to be unabashedly turned on by examining him.
Where all these emotions had come from, Japan was unsure, but now he couldn’t stop his face from flaming, nor could he deny the tightening of his pants around his fly.
He had to admit to himself, as he lowered Greece’s arm (but lingered on his hand), that Greece was beautiful, and yes, Japan was a lover of beautiful things. He loved flowers, and small animals, and the air and water and traveling-all beautiful things.
Greece gave a sigh from up above.
“I’m almost finished, Greece-“ he stopped himself from tacking ‘san’ onto the end, and instead looked back down at his small, pale hand wedged into Greece’s larger, tanned one. He didn’t want Greece to just be a ‘san’ to him.
Japan closed his eyes and took a breath, still on his knees. He then stood up, using Greece’s arm as his wall, and walked around to Greece’s front. Greece had his eyes closed and his head bowed just so, and his eyelids fluttered open as Japan was standing in front of him.
“I-I’ve just got one more area to check,” Japan murmured, using all his strength to keep from blushing like mad. Greece gave a slight nod, more a tilt of the head, and looked up at the ceiling. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Al-alright,” Japan said, gulping. He then slowly lowered himself so he was navel-height on Greece, and he was momentarily transfixed by the hard cut abdominals he was facing. They were smooth and surprisingly felt soft, even with the hard muscle underneath. Muscles rippled all the way up Greece’s chest, reflecting a strong, ancient heritage in their tendons. Greece placed both hands on Greece’s abdomen, still crouching, and Greece gave a shudder.
“Greece? Are you-“
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a bit choked. Japan nodded and slid his hands down his stomach, over his bony hips and down his thighs, applying the slightest bits of pressure as he went. A small bruise had formed on Greece’s inner thigh, but other than that the limbs were perfection. Japan continued down his legs, breezing past the offending organ hanging from Greece’s hips (much to his relief) and he lowered himself down to his knees, running his fingertips down Greece’s legs to the tops of his feet. Nothing else seemed amiss, and nothing else happened. Japan reeled back on his haunches and fell onto his hips, leaning back, breathing hard. His face was red and his stomach was filled with butterflies but he was finished. Greece cracked open an eye and looked down at him.
“F-finished,” Japan stuttered. Greece opened both eyes and broke his stance, taking a step back and stretched his shoulders. Japan looked up, trying to bypass all of Greece’s features to settle on his face, but he found his eyes wandering and he quickly looked away, closing his eyes and catching his breath. He heard movement and felt the slight breeze as Greece walked by him, sliding back into his clothes. Japan was still breathing rapidly, and he lay on his back, eyes closed, trying to cool himself down. His heart was beating like mad and his chest heaved. Greece was still walking around the room, Japan willed himself to disappear, to vanish into thin air and reappear somewhere, anywhere else.
When Japan finally sat up, Greece was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, wearing only his shorts. He was running a hand through his curly mop and down his face, looking worn. He looked up and his eyes locked with Japan’s, and he gave Japan a weak smile. (Japan could have sworn he saw pink in Greece’s normally tanned face, but he could have been wrong.) Greece then broadened his smile and beckoned him over. Japan knelt across from Greece, his hands planted firmly in his lap. Greece stretched and yawned, rubbing his eyes with his hand.
“Thank you, Japan,” he said, and he patted the carpet next to him. Japan hesitated for a moment, still flushing from the inspection, but he obliged and crawled over to sit beside Greece, their hips touching ever so gently. They sat in silence for a moment, Greece still rubbing at his face. Suddenly, two toned arms surrounded Japan, and Greece tugged the two of them down onto the carpet, side-by-side, Japan wrapped in Greece’s embrace. Japan was laying half-way on his side, his torso facing Greece, his cheeks burning. Greece smiled and yawned again. He laid his forehead to Japan’s and closed his eyes.
“G-Greece-“
“You looked tired,” was all Greece said. Japan shifted in Greece’s arms and laid his head more comfortably against the carpet. Admittedly, he was tired, although he rarely napped. But the day was so warm and they had so much time before the next meeting....
He felt a pair of lips pressed against his forehead. Japan snapped his head back, surprised at the motion, but didn’t move away. Greece smiled lazily at him, and in one fell swoop he took Japan’s lips in his own. It was a soft peck, just a pressing of the lips together, but Japan breathed deeply into the kiss and curled his hands beside Greece’s chest, wiggling just a bit closer.
The kiss didn’t deepen any further; it was more like they were hovering before one another, lips on lips, just pressing, as if trying to soak each other up into their skin. Finally Greece pulled away, inhaling through his nose and looking Japan straight in the eye.
“I can translate the notes, I think, and then send them to my boss,” Greece said. Japan just nodded, stunned into silence from Greece’s forward actions. Greece’s eyes roamed Japan’s face, taking in every crease, every fold of skin, every eyelash and stray hair. Japan felt like he was being observed by a child behind a wall of glass.
“...Greece, why did-“
“You didn’t say ‘san’,” Greece said, cutting him off. “You didn’t during the entire inspection.” Japan just stared back at him, unsure of how to respond.
“I-I mean, m-maybe I should have, it was such a f-formal situation-“
“I like it,” Greece interrupted again. Japan spread his fingers along Greece’s chest, and Greece tightened his grip. “I don’t want you to think we’re so separate that you have to say that.”
Japan swore he could cook using his forehead at this very moment. He swallowed harshly. Their relationship was twisted and complicated; on the outside, they appeared to be just good friends, people who shared common interests. Behind closed doors, however, they were something else entirely. Japan had shown more of himself to Greece than anyone he could even remember, and Greece had been the forerunner of him discovering more of himself. Japan had never felt this way about anyone else, but he wasn’t even sure of what it was he was feeling. Whatever it was, he liked it, and didn’t want it to go away.
“What do you say that, after the meeting, we go to that place that Spain was talking about?” Greece asked, pulling Japan’s head into his chest.
“...what place?”
“The restaurant that he likes,” Greece said, and he ran a hand soothingly through Japan’s hair. Japan just made his grip on Greece tighter.
“Why?”
“As a thank-you,” Greece replied. “And, so we can finally have a proper date.” Japan’s heart stopped beating for a moment. He stiffened in Greece’s arms. “I’ve been trying to get you to go on a date with me for... months, but with my economy... I’ve been sick, and my boss has needed me, so...”
“Y-you have?” Japan stammered. He mentally chided himself, why couldn’t he stop stuttering? He sounded like a loon. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing; Greece was proposing a relationship? After Japan had done something so ridiculously awkward?
“I mean, only if you want to-“
“-I-I want to!-“
“-okay.” With that, Greece closed his eyes, and Japan nudged his head into the crook of Greece’s neck, a place he’d been before but this time, there wasn’t just sexual tension and questions, but the promise of something more. Japan relaxed, taking in the sight of Greece’s collarbone connecting to his shoulder, and admiring it just as much as he had before.
--
I battled with myself whether to end this in smut or not and I opted for not, because it seemed... wrong somehow. o_o GIVE ME CRITS.