[APH] Summer Afternoon
Title: Summer Afternoon
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: Greece, Japan, Japan's cat
Genre/Rating/Warnings: general/G/none
Summary/Excerpt: The summer is too hot and Japan doesn't want to move.
A/N: Happy Birthday seena58! ♥ The file name of this thing is 'idk what the hell this is giripan' oh LOL
Summer Afternoon
“Walking is tiring. I wish Pochi were here,” Tama said wistfully. His tail flipped from side to side in happy anticipation of bluefin tuna for lunch.
“I can carry you,” Greece offered, looking at his furry companion.
“You have a lot of bags,” said the cat. “But if you insist, I will ride on your head.”
And so he did. Greece and Tama walked back to Japan’s dojo carrying their groceries for the afternoon. It was summer and the heat was close to unbearable. But Greece was familiar with such a climate and had offered to run Japan’s errands while the man expressed with some effort that it was too hot to move.
They entered the gate and crossed the front yard, only to be greeted by Japan himself lying exactly where he was an hour ago, sprawled on the tatami trying to cool off with what little air that could pass through the ancient floors. The thinnest yukata he could find rode up his thigh, showing a delicious bit of skin that Herakles could not help but look at for a bit longer than needed.
“Hmph, such insolence,” Tama said ruefully and turned away from the sight of his master with slight difficulty being on the Greek man’s head.
“You are the same, you know,” Herakles answered with bemusement.
Whether it be that this monochrome cat was the very mirror and critic of the personified country or they both had moments when they slept with their stomachs exposed, it did not matter. What Herakles could say, though, was that he loved the days when the rising heat from street concrete made languid beings out of utter prudes.
He wanted to laugh as he settled his groceries beside the sleeping man and popped open an ice cold can of beer. Without shifting, Japan blindly groped backwards in search for the tangible manifestation of the summer’s panacea and growled slightly when his efforts remained futile. Finally deciding to stir, he rolled over and Herakles offered him his own drink.
Japan squinted at Tama on his head, still groggy from a tired nap and said, “What a princess…”
Tama rumbled in response, offended but showed nothing more. “And you are lazy,” he retorted before jumping off Herakles’ head and entering the dojo with its tail held high. The two nations watched until he disappeared round a corner and Japan sat up.
“How was the trip?” he asked before taking a refreshing sip of his beer and sighing contentedly.
“We found cheap watermelons,” Greece replied. “And those mushrooms you wanted for Hiyashi Chuka. Are you sure this is a proper lunch?”
“Of course it is. I dislike anything steaming at the moment,” Japan smiled at him before adding. “…is it your first time having cold noodles?”
Greece swirled his beer can absently. “I suppose it wouldn’t be bad to try it.”
When his friend said nothing more, he went to the kitchen with the groceries and laid them out on the dining table. The other cans of beer were promptly stored in the fridge. A cookbook sat on the kitchen counter, opened to a page that had a picture of what looked like a noodle salad, along with its recipe in kanji that Herakles had yet to learn to decipher. The meal looked appetizing indeed, although he wasn’t particularly hungry yet and he definitely needed Japan’s guidance if they wanted to get anything done.
Greece sighed and rejoined him in the living room. They shifted a bit as Japan lay down on his lap and smoothed out his yukata.
“It’s quiet,” he said, bordering on the edges of sleep and a smile tugged at Greece’s lips.
“I don’t remember you as one to skip meals.”
“Quiet,” Japan repeated, not so much as describing their surroundings as much as expressing the state he’d rather have them in. Greece fought back a laugh.
Tama came to them with a fan in his mouth. Greece took it with a grateful nod and began fanning the man on his lap while the cat sat down and watched.
“He’s much more honest like this,” he said, somewhat disgruntled by the delay of his tuna.
“He always is,” Greece said and tenderly ran his fingers through Japan’s hair until the latter’s breathing evened out.
Tama rolled over with impatience and the Greek smiled apologetically. “Would it be too much to ask if I tell you to cut the watermelon?”
“In exchange for lunch, but I suppose you standing is out of the question,” the cat said and hopped off, perhaps to find a shadier spot to have his own nap in.
Greece let out a huff of amusement and touched a finger to Japan’s lips before hesitating. Instead, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, falling back into languid shadows.
END
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: Greece, Japan, Japan's cat
Genre/Rating/Warnings: general/G/none
Summary/Excerpt: The summer is too hot and Japan doesn't want to move.
A/N: Happy Birthday seena58! ♥ The file name of this thing is 'idk what the hell this is giripan' oh LOL
Summer Afternoon
“Walking is tiring. I wish Pochi were here,” Tama said wistfully. His tail flipped from side to side in happy anticipation of bluefin tuna for lunch.
“I can carry you,” Greece offered, looking at his furry companion.
“You have a lot of bags,” said the cat. “But if you insist, I will ride on your head.”
And so he did. Greece and Tama walked back to Japan’s dojo carrying their groceries for the afternoon. It was summer and the heat was close to unbearable. But Greece was familiar with such a climate and had offered to run Japan’s errands while the man expressed with some effort that it was too hot to move.
They entered the gate and crossed the front yard, only to be greeted by Japan himself lying exactly where he was an hour ago, sprawled on the tatami trying to cool off with what little air that could pass through the ancient floors. The thinnest yukata he could find rode up his thigh, showing a delicious bit of skin that Herakles could not help but look at for a bit longer than needed.
“Hmph, such insolence,” Tama said ruefully and turned away from the sight of his master with slight difficulty being on the Greek man’s head.
“You are the same, you know,” Herakles answered with bemusement.
Whether it be that this monochrome cat was the very mirror and critic of the personified country or they both had moments when they slept with their stomachs exposed, it did not matter. What Herakles could say, though, was that he loved the days when the rising heat from street concrete made languid beings out of utter prudes.
He wanted to laugh as he settled his groceries beside the sleeping man and popped open an ice cold can of beer. Without shifting, Japan blindly groped backwards in search for the tangible manifestation of the summer’s panacea and growled slightly when his efforts remained futile. Finally deciding to stir, he rolled over and Herakles offered him his own drink.
Japan squinted at Tama on his head, still groggy from a tired nap and said, “What a princess…”
Tama rumbled in response, offended but showed nothing more. “And you are lazy,” he retorted before jumping off Herakles’ head and entering the dojo with its tail held high. The two nations watched until he disappeared round a corner and Japan sat up.
“How was the trip?” he asked before taking a refreshing sip of his beer and sighing contentedly.
“We found cheap watermelons,” Greece replied. “And those mushrooms you wanted for Hiyashi Chuka. Are you sure this is a proper lunch?”
“Of course it is. I dislike anything steaming at the moment,” Japan smiled at him before adding. “…is it your first time having cold noodles?”
Greece swirled his beer can absently. “I suppose it wouldn’t be bad to try it.”
When his friend said nothing more, he went to the kitchen with the groceries and laid them out on the dining table. The other cans of beer were promptly stored in the fridge. A cookbook sat on the kitchen counter, opened to a page that had a picture of what looked like a noodle salad, along with its recipe in kanji that Herakles had yet to learn to decipher. The meal looked appetizing indeed, although he wasn’t particularly hungry yet and he definitely needed Japan’s guidance if they wanted to get anything done.
Greece sighed and rejoined him in the living room. They shifted a bit as Japan lay down on his lap and smoothed out his yukata.
“It’s quiet,” he said, bordering on the edges of sleep and a smile tugged at Greece’s lips.
“I don’t remember you as one to skip meals.”
“Quiet,” Japan repeated, not so much as describing their surroundings as much as expressing the state he’d rather have them in. Greece fought back a laugh.
Tama came to them with a fan in his mouth. Greece took it with a grateful nod and began fanning the man on his lap while the cat sat down and watched.
“He’s much more honest like this,” he said, somewhat disgruntled by the delay of his tuna.
“He always is,” Greece said and tenderly ran his fingers through Japan’s hair until the latter’s breathing evened out.
Tama rolled over with impatience and the Greek smiled apologetically. “Would it be too much to ask if I tell you to cut the watermelon?”
“In exchange for lunch, but I suppose you standing is out of the question,” the cat said and hopped off, perhaps to find a shadier spot to have his own nap in.
Greece let out a huff of amusement and touched a finger to Japan’s lips before hesitating. Instead, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, falling back into languid shadows.
END