[APH] If anything, it's already happened in our heads
Title: If anything, it's already happened in our heads
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: Greece, Japan
Genre/Rating/Warnings: general/PG/AU, alternating POVs
Summary/Excerpt: Kiku, an eccentric writer, takes Herakles to his home after seeing him passed out in front of the train station.
A/N: Happy Birthday measuringlife! ♥ I…am not sure what happened with this fic, but rest assured, it was written with TLC :'D
If anything, it's already happened in our heads
I have a new housemate.
I found him at the station one evening as I was going home from work. He had passed out by the turnstiles and people were ignoring him. After a brief decision-making, I took him to my apartment and have him a bath.
His name is Herakles and he has the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen. He told me once that he was half foreign. Another time, he told me his parents had a most wonderful obsession with Ancient Greek mythology and had named him after a hero. The other day, he told me he had escaped from a top secret facility after enduring several painful experiments that eventually turned his brown eyes into tantalizing blue-greens.
He says he has nowhere to go and pays for staying with me by doing the housework. It is most endearing to watch him in the kitchen. The place seems to suit him, despite how big he is. He is surprisingly particular about food. There was a time he threw out the entire (meager) contents of my refrigerator and prepared an actual meal, instead of those you simply added hot water to. He makes heavenly yakiniku and I was sold at the first bite.
Herakles, for all his talk and cheer, has a habit of falling asleep anywhere. His favorite spot would be my massage chair with the vibration set to medium. I'd find him sprawled out like a drunk starfish and sometimes I'd watch him reach the REM stage of sleep. I'd gently touch his eyelids and feel his eyes move beneath my fingertips and wonder what he's dreaming about.
Other times, I'd stroke his hair and he would purr. There isn't any other way to describe it. Whenever I stroked his hair, I'd hear a low rumble that wasn't coming from the chair and Herakles would slightly lean into my touch.
He is truly a fascinating man.
- - - -
"Are you sure about this?" Herakles asked during his first night in Kiku's apartment. He was being scrubbed squeaky clean in the bathtub like a kid had wallowed too much in the outdoors. Going by the humming he was hearing, it seemed Kiku was enjoying himself.
"About what?"
"This," Herakles shrugged lamely in an attempt to indicate the entire situation. "I could kill you and rob you after this bath is done."
Kiku looked pensive. "I suppose you could." He finished washing Herakles' hair and rinsed him down. He then gave him a change of clothes-"They're the biggest ones I've got"-and spare cup noodles from the cupboard.
Herakles' eyebrow rose but he said nothing as he watched Kiku prepare his own meal. After three minutes, he asked, "Why did you take me in?"
Kiku keenly considered him while eating. "You reminded me of the cat I used to have."
Herakles laughed. "That's awfully carefree of you."
"You have a nice face," Kiku said steadily, coloring slightly with embarrassment. "The perfect protagonist for a story."
He fell silent. Herakes could practically hear his imagination running and thought it best not to ask what kind of story would that be.
- - - -
A long time ago, I was known as the Shinjuku's Tidal Wave, bearing God's Right Fist and the Demon's Left, capable of single-handedly overwhelming a roomful of opponents.
But of course, those were colorful rumors. I was merely a bodyguard for one Y-gumi's wakagashira. But after nearly getting killed on a mission because of a comrade's mistake, the Oyabun relieved me from my duties and urged me to live a normal life.
I then worked at downtown Ikebukuro, in a ramen shop owned by one of the Oyabun's many acquaintances. I called him Master. He was a very kind man and a genius in the kitchen. I had often asked him why he hadn't left to make better living elsewhere. He was never without customers because his food was good. He told me the ramen shop had been with his family since the start of the century. He always took pride in and enjoyed the pleasant surprise people got when they would find his shop, like a discovering a bargain bin during a complicated shopping endeavor, only warmer and tastier. Master's only son went overseas to become a lawyer. He said it was alright sine he had a bright future ahead of him.
I was determined to help Master, but after three years, he kicked me out with good nature and told me my skills could earn me a decent job at a five-star hotel. I wanted to tell him there was a limit to where former yakuza could go.
The night I lost my job, the lease of my apartment ran out and a bunch of shady folk tried to mug me. I had them licking pavement ten minutes later but I will admit, I wasn't feeling any better myself. If Kiku hasn't found me, I don't know where I would have been picked up.
Kiku is a strange man.
He writes for a lot of magazines and occasionally publishes a novel or two. He stays at home most of the time and looks like a zombie in the mornings. He has never seriously asked me about my past or my personal information. I would humor him and his eyes always lit up with wonder. That has become my small happiness.
There are days he simply watches me do my work around the house and informs me how that I am now an envoy of the Kingdom of Aria or the Royal Consort of the Ottoman Emperor, how would I like my curry? Mild or spicy hot?
I'd like to think he is shy. Quite eccentric, but mostly the reserved type. He once let slip how he had imagined me a Casanova, making loving to Venetian virgins. My sweat would drip down my neck at five centimeters per second.
"Writers are strange," I had remarked as I was washing the dishes.
- - - -
Summer evening and it was too hot to turn the lights on. Kiku and Herakles were having beer and strawberry daiquiri on the veranda. A coil of mosquito repellent sitting in a panda bowl was under the bench, shrinking into a thin thread of smoke.
"Have you always been alone?" Herakles asked.
"I haven't lived with anyone since I graduated university," Kiku answered. The pair had been acquainted for three months now.
"You adapt pretty easily. Are you used to this?"
"Used to what?"
"Taking people in. Living together. Not having sex."
Kiku smiled and put down his drink. "What about you? You seem used to this too."
"In some ways I am."
There was a pause before Kiku asked. "Was that a complaint?"
"What was?"
"About sex."
"No." Herakles took a sip of beer. "No. Just a remark. I can't complain since you're taking care of me. Even if you know nothing about me. How come you never ask?"
"I can imagine…"
"You always do."
They shared a comfortable silence.
"Did you imagine it too? What you would do when you'd see someone like me?" Herakles asked.
"Yes," Kiku replied.
"That explains a lot."
Fireworks from the nearby festival shot up and lit the night sky.
END
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: Greece, Japan
Genre/Rating/Warnings: general/PG/AU, alternating POVs
Summary/Excerpt: Kiku, an eccentric writer, takes Herakles to his home after seeing him passed out in front of the train station.
A/N: Happy Birthday measuringlife! ♥ I…am not sure what happened with this fic, but rest assured, it was written with TLC :'D
If anything, it's already happened in our heads
I have a new housemate.
I found him at the station one evening as I was going home from work. He had passed out by the turnstiles and people were ignoring him. After a brief decision-making, I took him to my apartment and have him a bath.
His name is Herakles and he has the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen. He told me once that he was half foreign. Another time, he told me his parents had a most wonderful obsession with Ancient Greek mythology and had named him after a hero. The other day, he told me he had escaped from a top secret facility after enduring several painful experiments that eventually turned his brown eyes into tantalizing blue-greens.
He says he has nowhere to go and pays for staying with me by doing the housework. It is most endearing to watch him in the kitchen. The place seems to suit him, despite how big he is. He is surprisingly particular about food. There was a time he threw out the entire (meager) contents of my refrigerator and prepared an actual meal, instead of those you simply added hot water to. He makes heavenly yakiniku and I was sold at the first bite.
Herakles, for all his talk and cheer, has a habit of falling asleep anywhere. His favorite spot would be my massage chair with the vibration set to medium. I'd find him sprawled out like a drunk starfish and sometimes I'd watch him reach the REM stage of sleep. I'd gently touch his eyelids and feel his eyes move beneath my fingertips and wonder what he's dreaming about.
Other times, I'd stroke his hair and he would purr. There isn't any other way to describe it. Whenever I stroked his hair, I'd hear a low rumble that wasn't coming from the chair and Herakles would slightly lean into my touch.
He is truly a fascinating man.
- - - -
"Are you sure about this?" Herakles asked during his first night in Kiku's apartment. He was being scrubbed squeaky clean in the bathtub like a kid had wallowed too much in the outdoors. Going by the humming he was hearing, it seemed Kiku was enjoying himself.
"About what?"
"This," Herakles shrugged lamely in an attempt to indicate the entire situation. "I could kill you and rob you after this bath is done."
Kiku looked pensive. "I suppose you could." He finished washing Herakles' hair and rinsed him down. He then gave him a change of clothes-"They're the biggest ones I've got"-and spare cup noodles from the cupboard.
Herakles' eyebrow rose but he said nothing as he watched Kiku prepare his own meal. After three minutes, he asked, "Why did you take me in?"
Kiku keenly considered him while eating. "You reminded me of the cat I used to have."
Herakles laughed. "That's awfully carefree of you."
"You have a nice face," Kiku said steadily, coloring slightly with embarrassment. "The perfect protagonist for a story."
He fell silent. Herakes could practically hear his imagination running and thought it best not to ask what kind of story would that be.
- - - -
A long time ago, I was known as the Shinjuku's Tidal Wave, bearing God's Right Fist and the Demon's Left, capable of single-handedly overwhelming a roomful of opponents.
But of course, those were colorful rumors. I was merely a bodyguard for one Y-gumi's wakagashira. But after nearly getting killed on a mission because of a comrade's mistake, the Oyabun relieved me from my duties and urged me to live a normal life.
I then worked at downtown Ikebukuro, in a ramen shop owned by one of the Oyabun's many acquaintances. I called him Master. He was a very kind man and a genius in the kitchen. I had often asked him why he hadn't left to make better living elsewhere. He was never without customers because his food was good. He told me the ramen shop had been with his family since the start of the century. He always took pride in and enjoyed the pleasant surprise people got when they would find his shop, like a discovering a bargain bin during a complicated shopping endeavor, only warmer and tastier. Master's only son went overseas to become a lawyer. He said it was alright sine he had a bright future ahead of him.
I was determined to help Master, but after three years, he kicked me out with good nature and told me my skills could earn me a decent job at a five-star hotel. I wanted to tell him there was a limit to where former yakuza could go.
The night I lost my job, the lease of my apartment ran out and a bunch of shady folk tried to mug me. I had them licking pavement ten minutes later but I will admit, I wasn't feeling any better myself. If Kiku hasn't found me, I don't know where I would have been picked up.
Kiku is a strange man.
He writes for a lot of magazines and occasionally publishes a novel or two. He stays at home most of the time and looks like a zombie in the mornings. He has never seriously asked me about my past or my personal information. I would humor him and his eyes always lit up with wonder. That has become my small happiness.
There are days he simply watches me do my work around the house and informs me how that I am now an envoy of the Kingdom of Aria or the Royal Consort of the Ottoman Emperor, how would I like my curry? Mild or spicy hot?
I'd like to think he is shy. Quite eccentric, but mostly the reserved type. He once let slip how he had imagined me a Casanova, making loving to Venetian virgins. My sweat would drip down my neck at five centimeters per second.
"Writers are strange," I had remarked as I was washing the dishes.
- - - -
Summer evening and it was too hot to turn the lights on. Kiku and Herakles were having beer and strawberry daiquiri on the veranda. A coil of mosquito repellent sitting in a panda bowl was under the bench, shrinking into a thin thread of smoke.
"Have you always been alone?" Herakles asked.
"I haven't lived with anyone since I graduated university," Kiku answered. The pair had been acquainted for three months now.
"You adapt pretty easily. Are you used to this?"
"Used to what?"
"Taking people in. Living together. Not having sex."
Kiku smiled and put down his drink. "What about you? You seem used to this too."
"In some ways I am."
There was a pause before Kiku asked. "Was that a complaint?"
"What was?"
"About sex."
"No." Herakles took a sip of beer. "No. Just a remark. I can't complain since you're taking care of me. Even if you know nothing about me. How come you never ask?"
"I can imagine…"
"You always do."
They shared a comfortable silence.
"Did you imagine it too? What you would do when you'd see someone like me?" Herakles asked.
"Yes," Kiku replied.
"That explains a lot."
Fireworks from the nearby festival shot up and lit the night sky.
END