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valmoraTitle: Pursuit and Unwoven
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: Greece, Turkey, Greece/Turkey, implied Greece/Japan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mentions of past rape
Disclaimer: as always, not mine.
Notes: Originally posted here for this request at the kink meme, and kindexed here.
“I regret,” Japan murmured, “that I will be unavailable to join your birthday festivities tomorrow. It’s good that we could meet today instead.”
Greece nodded, swallowing his mouthful of tea. “I bought lots of cat food to give out.”
Japan smiled gently and looked into his tea. “They will follow you home, I suppose.”
“Probably.” Greece shrugged.
“It is interesting,” Japan mused, “that cats are so fond of you. Perhaps because you aren’t?”
Greece didn’t get it but declined to press the point. Japan would get upset at being forced.
A tabby cat, one of many congregated in front of his office, purred under Greece’s hand, nosing around in a can of cat food as she did so. Greece regretted that he had but two hands with which to pet them, and only two shoulders that would hold them, and…
A man stopped walking, stood not too far away to watch him. “Man, no wonder they like you so much,” he remarked, and Greece’s chest clenched to hear Turkey’s voice.
He turned his head. Turkey’s sunglasses hid his eyes nearly as well as the mask had.
Turkey was out of kicking distance, Greece noted.
“Figured I’d bring my present first so everything after’d be easier,” Turkey said, holding out a box. There were holes cut in the sides.
“Is it a bomb?”
“What do you think I am, a mujahid?”
Greece paused. “Is it a dead cat.”
“That’s just sick.”
“Is it my flag drenched in the blood of my children?”
“Fucking open it! I promise it won’t cause a diplomatic incident.”
Greece held his tongue and took the box, which rustled alarmingly and shifted its weight in his hands as he opened it to reveal –
The puppy looked up at him with dark liquid eyes and wagged its tail, white fur surrounded by cardboard. Greece set the box down on the pavement and lifted the puppy out, glancing between the legs as he did – a bitch, then. She sniffed at his hands and wagged more enthusiastically, nosing at his arms and then at his crotch when he set her down on the pavement next to where he was sitting. He pushed her nose closer to his knees. “Is she trained?”
“Yeah.”
“What breed is she?”
Turkey sat down on the pavement not too far from him. Still out of kicking range, though. “Akbaş. Not my national breed, but...” He reached out, like he wanted to call her, but then his hand dropped.
She was really very beautiful, Greece thought as she tripped her way over to the cats and tried to sniff them. White fur, medium-length, a long muzzle. He’d seen adult ones before; Turkey had kept dogs for a time after the Second World War.
“Is she descended from Berşe?”
“No. Berşe never whelped.” The cats permitted the puppy to sniff them, but only inasmuch as they sauntered away with their tails high.
“Does she have a name?”
“Whatever you want.” Turkey leaned back, using his hands to hold himself up, and stretched his legs out along the concrete. “Not something Finnish, though. Weird fucking names that kid thinks up.”
Greece pressed his lips together. “He’s as old as you are. Older.”
“Yeah? So’re you, if you count years instead of maturity. Try again later.”
Greece didn’t say anything to that. It was true. He’d lived under Eastern Roman Empire for a long time, all of it as a child.
“All right,” he said, “I accept Penelope. Thank you. Now go away so I can enjoy my birthday in peace.”
Turkey stood, brushed his hands off on his jeans. “When Japan drops by, fuck him for me, hey?”
“No.”
“Mm.” Turkey glanced away. “Yeah, you’re right. Lie back and think of me, then.”
“I never do.”
Turkey didn’t look back. Greece wondered if there would even be a store open that would sell him a leash or dog food.
There wasn’t, so he fed her some chicken that evening while his assorted visitors dropped by, gave him presents, chatted, and left. She inspired a number of admiring comments, all of which grew a little nervous if he mentioned that she’d been a gift from Turkey. Austria even said, If you do not wish to take care of her, I am sure there is a Nation who would be willing to take in a guardian dog. Which was patently ridiculous. He wasn’t crazy about Turkey, but he liked Penelope.
The next day there were stores open, so he bought what requisite supplies he could think of. She’d slept on his bed, but he liked that, so she stayed there.
She also liked to sniff the cats who roamed around his house.
When Japan visited a couple of days later, she sniffed at his ankles, licked him, and curled up next to Greece’s feet to sleep while they had lunch together.
“What’s her name?” Japan asked.
“Penelope.”
Japan took a few bites of salad. The silence – or near-silence anyway, broken by the faint meowing from outside the window – was very nice. The meowing only added to Greece’s contentment.
“What breed is she?”
“Akbaş. Turkish.”
“Ah. I see.” Japan turned a little pink in the cheeks. “He must be very fond of you.”
“No...I don’t know. She’s a good dog.”
“What is her breed trained to do?”
“The book said they guarded herds.”
Japan’s eyes smiled even if his face didn’t. “He wants her to guard herds of cats?”
“I think he wants to be able to say he gave me a dog.”
“...but why?”
Greece shrugged. “Symbolic subordination. Like Hello Kitty having a pet cat... the dog has a pet dog.”
Japan set down his fork. “Maybe. I do not think he would give you such a beautiful dog if that was what he meant, though.”
Greece grunted. “What do you think he means?”
“I could not say.” Japan glanced down at the plate of food in the center of the table. “It reminds me of a colloquialism my people have. We use neko, sometimes, to refer to the, how do you say? Eromenos.”
Greece deliberately relaxed his muscles because if he didn’t he would punch Japan and that would be a diplomatic incident. “I was physically fifteen when he raped me,” he said evenly, drawing his hands under the table so Japan wouldn’t see him shaking. “If he thinks he can dominate me again, he is wrong. He will always be wrong. He can court all he likes, start as many fights as he desires, give as many gifts as he has money for. He will not have me.”
“Ah.” Japan stayed sitting. “I apologize if I have touched on a sensitive subject.”
“Yes. Please leave. I need to –” He didn’t bother to finish whatever excuse he could have come up with. It would have been flimsy pretext anyway.
Japan gathered his things, leaving the half-eaten meal at the table, and walked out the door of Greece’s apartment. But not before turning and remarking, “Do you know, I find it interesting that he gave you a dog, instead.”
Greece waited until Japan had closed the door behind himself to put the food away, walking around Penelope so as not to wake her. He then went outside and ripped up weeds in his garden until he felt better. He could barely even stomach the strays who gathered around him hoping for food.
When he came back inside Penelope was waiting for him, so he took her for a walk and debated giving her back to Turkey. On the one hand, he liked her very much, but on the other hand, she was a gift from Turkey. And yet – it wasn’t her fault; she was just a dog. But a gift of a dog was so intimate. He wanted no part of the other meanings.
When he got back to his apartment, he made a phone call.
“Türkiye Cumhuriyeti,” said the voice on the other end.
“What was Penelope’s name before you gave her to me?”
There was a sharp silence on the other end, then, “What, you decided you didn’t like the name you gave her?”
“Shut up. What was her name?”
“She didn’t have one.”
“That’s a lie and we both know it. Did you name her?”
He could hear Turkey breathing. “…yeah. I kept her for a couple days, so.”
“What was her name?”
“What, doesn’t she respond to ‘Penelope’?”
“She does. What did you name her?”
“The fuck, Greece, what does it matter?”
“Do you have any idea how weird it was of you to give me a dog for my birthday?”
“…yeah.”
“Okay. So tell me. Her name.”
“What are you going to do to her?” An edge of worry creeping into Turkey’s voice.
“I’ll give her back if you don’t tell me.” He would. It would break his heart but he’d do it.
“The fuck. That’s ridiculous. Daphne. Are you happy now?”
Greece bit his lip. “No. I think you’re pathetic. But Penelope is beautiful.” He hung up and scratched behind her ears a bit before going to feed the stray cats that were lurking in front of the building.
He should have expected Turkey to come bother him the next day. But he didn’t, and so when his secretary paged him to say that the Republic of Turkey wanted to see him he was surprised enough to make the mistake of telling her to let him in.
So Turkey entered Greece’s office, saw himself to one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, and said, “It’s bugging me why a dog is turning into our kids. You know, phone calls at weird hours, fights over visitation rights, conversations that don’t make sense, other Nations calling me to tell me that I’m on the verge of creating a diplomatic fiasco.”
Greece set his pen down on the desk because if he didn’t he’d probably end up trying to stab Turkey.
“I’m not trying to get you expelled from the EU,” he pointed out.
“That’s the worst evasion I’ve ever heard. Let’s be adults and talk it out, hey?”
Greece wished the cat that was investigating the corner would come sit in his lap. “Why a dog?”
Turkey pushed up his sunglasses so they rested on top of his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sick of your always being around cats because I’m fucking allergic. And she was beautiful.”
“That’s all?”
“And because it feels good to have you liking something that’s mine. Whatever.”
If it was anything like the rush Greece got whenever the rest of Europe went on an Ancient Greek design spree, then it was a little more than feeling good. Probably a pretty small kick, since Greece’s affection wasn’t for the whole breed, just for one member. But he and Turkey were already so sensitized to each other that everything carried more force...
“You named her ‘Daphne,’” Greece said slowly.
“What do think I’m going to say?” Turkey asked. “I mean, you don’t so much run as kick me in the face, but you’d definitely rather turn into a tree than let me catch you.” He dropped his hand from his face. His eyes were tired, dark circles underneath. He had tan lines from his sunglasses that made him look like the opposite of a Japanese tanuki.
“You have delusions of godhood,” Greece said.
“I have delusions of a lot of things. Come on, you’re killing the romance.”
Geece laid his hands on top of each other on his desk. “I didn’t know there was romance to kill.”
Turkey grinned, leaned forward in his chair. “All right, then sexual tension.” His smiles were uneven, always had been. A little bit wider on the left side than on the right. It made him look rakish, dangerous, hungry. Greece had been attracted to him once. Still was, a little, but the anger beat out anything else, even if they needed to be civil to one another in these modern times and so he couldn’t quite show it.
“My resistance only increases it,” Greece said. “Now get out.”
Turkey pulled his sunglasses back over his eyes, but not before Greece saw the flicker of hurt that passed over his face. The grin slid back over his features then, as much mask as the ceramic that Turkey had left behind a decade ago.
He watched Turkey walk to the door, open it –
“I’m keeping the dog,” Greece said.
Turkey looked back. Nodded faintly, grin slipping down and away into just a smile, small and gratified, and then he closed the door.
Fandom: Hetalia
Characters: Greece, Turkey, Greece/Turkey, implied Greece/Japan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mentions of past rape
Disclaimer: as always, not mine.
Notes: Originally posted here for this request at the kink meme, and kindexed here.
“I regret,” Japan murmured, “that I will be unavailable to join your birthday festivities tomorrow. It’s good that we could meet today instead.”
Greece nodded, swallowing his mouthful of tea. “I bought lots of cat food to give out.”
Japan smiled gently and looked into his tea. “They will follow you home, I suppose.”
“Probably.” Greece shrugged.
“It is interesting,” Japan mused, “that cats are so fond of you. Perhaps because you aren’t?”
Greece didn’t get it but declined to press the point. Japan would get upset at being forced.
A tabby cat, one of many congregated in front of his office, purred under Greece’s hand, nosing around in a can of cat food as she did so. Greece regretted that he had but two hands with which to pet them, and only two shoulders that would hold them, and…
A man stopped walking, stood not too far away to watch him. “Man, no wonder they like you so much,” he remarked, and Greece’s chest clenched to hear Turkey’s voice.
He turned his head. Turkey’s sunglasses hid his eyes nearly as well as the mask had.
Turkey was out of kicking distance, Greece noted.
“Figured I’d bring my present first so everything after’d be easier,” Turkey said, holding out a box. There were holes cut in the sides.
“Is it a bomb?”
“What do you think I am, a mujahid?”
Greece paused. “Is it a dead cat.”
“That’s just sick.”
“Is it my flag drenched in the blood of my children?”
“Fucking open it! I promise it won’t cause a diplomatic incident.”
Greece held his tongue and took the box, which rustled alarmingly and shifted its weight in his hands as he opened it to reveal –
The puppy looked up at him with dark liquid eyes and wagged its tail, white fur surrounded by cardboard. Greece set the box down on the pavement and lifted the puppy out, glancing between the legs as he did – a bitch, then. She sniffed at his hands and wagged more enthusiastically, nosing at his arms and then at his crotch when he set her down on the pavement next to where he was sitting. He pushed her nose closer to his knees. “Is she trained?”
“Yeah.”
“What breed is she?”
Turkey sat down on the pavement not too far from him. Still out of kicking range, though. “Akbaş. Not my national breed, but...” He reached out, like he wanted to call her, but then his hand dropped.
She was really very beautiful, Greece thought as she tripped her way over to the cats and tried to sniff them. White fur, medium-length, a long muzzle. He’d seen adult ones before; Turkey had kept dogs for a time after the Second World War.
“Is she descended from Berşe?”
“No. Berşe never whelped.” The cats permitted the puppy to sniff them, but only inasmuch as they sauntered away with their tails high.
“Does she have a name?”
“Whatever you want.” Turkey leaned back, using his hands to hold himself up, and stretched his legs out along the concrete. “Not something Finnish, though. Weird fucking names that kid thinks up.”
Greece pressed his lips together. “He’s as old as you are. Older.”
“Yeah? So’re you, if you count years instead of maturity. Try again later.”
Greece didn’t say anything to that. It was true. He’d lived under Eastern Roman Empire for a long time, all of it as a child.
“All right,” he said, “I accept Penelope. Thank you. Now go away so I can enjoy my birthday in peace.”
Turkey stood, brushed his hands off on his jeans. “When Japan drops by, fuck him for me, hey?”
“No.”
“Mm.” Turkey glanced away. “Yeah, you’re right. Lie back and think of me, then.”
“I never do.”
Turkey didn’t look back. Greece wondered if there would even be a store open that would sell him a leash or dog food.
There wasn’t, so he fed her some chicken that evening while his assorted visitors dropped by, gave him presents, chatted, and left. She inspired a number of admiring comments, all of which grew a little nervous if he mentioned that she’d been a gift from Turkey. Austria even said, If you do not wish to take care of her, I am sure there is a Nation who would be willing to take in a guardian dog. Which was patently ridiculous. He wasn’t crazy about Turkey, but he liked Penelope.
The next day there were stores open, so he bought what requisite supplies he could think of. She’d slept on his bed, but he liked that, so she stayed there.
She also liked to sniff the cats who roamed around his house.
When Japan visited a couple of days later, she sniffed at his ankles, licked him, and curled up next to Greece’s feet to sleep while they had lunch together.
“What’s her name?” Japan asked.
“Penelope.”
Japan took a few bites of salad. The silence – or near-silence anyway, broken by the faint meowing from outside the window – was very nice. The meowing only added to Greece’s contentment.
“What breed is she?”
“Akbaş. Turkish.”
“Ah. I see.” Japan turned a little pink in the cheeks. “He must be very fond of you.”
“No...I don’t know. She’s a good dog.”
“What is her breed trained to do?”
“The book said they guarded herds.”
Japan’s eyes smiled even if his face didn’t. “He wants her to guard herds of cats?”
“I think he wants to be able to say he gave me a dog.”
“...but why?”
Greece shrugged. “Symbolic subordination. Like Hello Kitty having a pet cat... the dog has a pet dog.”
Japan set down his fork. “Maybe. I do not think he would give you such a beautiful dog if that was what he meant, though.”
Greece grunted. “What do you think he means?”
“I could not say.” Japan glanced down at the plate of food in the center of the table. “It reminds me of a colloquialism my people have. We use neko, sometimes, to refer to the, how do you say? Eromenos.”
Greece deliberately relaxed his muscles because if he didn’t he would punch Japan and that would be a diplomatic incident. “I was physically fifteen when he raped me,” he said evenly, drawing his hands under the table so Japan wouldn’t see him shaking. “If he thinks he can dominate me again, he is wrong. He will always be wrong. He can court all he likes, start as many fights as he desires, give as many gifts as he has money for. He will not have me.”
“Ah.” Japan stayed sitting. “I apologize if I have touched on a sensitive subject.”
“Yes. Please leave. I need to –” He didn’t bother to finish whatever excuse he could have come up with. It would have been flimsy pretext anyway.
Japan gathered his things, leaving the half-eaten meal at the table, and walked out the door of Greece’s apartment. But not before turning and remarking, “Do you know, I find it interesting that he gave you a dog, instead.”
Greece waited until Japan had closed the door behind himself to put the food away, walking around Penelope so as not to wake her. He then went outside and ripped up weeds in his garden until he felt better. He could barely even stomach the strays who gathered around him hoping for food.
When he came back inside Penelope was waiting for him, so he took her for a walk and debated giving her back to Turkey. On the one hand, he liked her very much, but on the other hand, she was a gift from Turkey. And yet – it wasn’t her fault; she was just a dog. But a gift of a dog was so intimate. He wanted no part of the other meanings.
When he got back to his apartment, he made a phone call.
“Türkiye Cumhuriyeti,” said the voice on the other end.
“What was Penelope’s name before you gave her to me?”
There was a sharp silence on the other end, then, “What, you decided you didn’t like the name you gave her?”
“Shut up. What was her name?”
“She didn’t have one.”
“That’s a lie and we both know it. Did you name her?”
He could hear Turkey breathing. “…yeah. I kept her for a couple days, so.”
“What was her name?”
“What, doesn’t she respond to ‘Penelope’?”
“She does. What did you name her?”
“The fuck, Greece, what does it matter?”
“Do you have any idea how weird it was of you to give me a dog for my birthday?”
“…yeah.”
“Okay. So tell me. Her name.”
“What are you going to do to her?” An edge of worry creeping into Turkey’s voice.
“I’ll give her back if you don’t tell me.” He would. It would break his heart but he’d do it.
“The fuck. That’s ridiculous. Daphne. Are you happy now?”
Greece bit his lip. “No. I think you’re pathetic. But Penelope is beautiful.” He hung up and scratched behind her ears a bit before going to feed the stray cats that were lurking in front of the building.
He should have expected Turkey to come bother him the next day. But he didn’t, and so when his secretary paged him to say that the Republic of Turkey wanted to see him he was surprised enough to make the mistake of telling her to let him in.
So Turkey entered Greece’s office, saw himself to one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, and said, “It’s bugging me why a dog is turning into our kids. You know, phone calls at weird hours, fights over visitation rights, conversations that don’t make sense, other Nations calling me to tell me that I’m on the verge of creating a diplomatic fiasco.”
Greece set his pen down on the desk because if he didn’t he’d probably end up trying to stab Turkey.
“I’m not trying to get you expelled from the EU,” he pointed out.
“That’s the worst evasion I’ve ever heard. Let’s be adults and talk it out, hey?”
Greece wished the cat that was investigating the corner would come sit in his lap. “Why a dog?”
Turkey pushed up his sunglasses so they rested on top of his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sick of your always being around cats because I’m fucking allergic. And she was beautiful.”
“That’s all?”
“And because it feels good to have you liking something that’s mine. Whatever.”
If it was anything like the rush Greece got whenever the rest of Europe went on an Ancient Greek design spree, then it was a little more than feeling good. Probably a pretty small kick, since Greece’s affection wasn’t for the whole breed, just for one member. But he and Turkey were already so sensitized to each other that everything carried more force...
“You named her ‘Daphne,’” Greece said slowly.
“What do think I’m going to say?” Turkey asked. “I mean, you don’t so much run as kick me in the face, but you’d definitely rather turn into a tree than let me catch you.” He dropped his hand from his face. His eyes were tired, dark circles underneath. He had tan lines from his sunglasses that made him look like the opposite of a Japanese tanuki.
“You have delusions of godhood,” Greece said.
“I have delusions of a lot of things. Come on, you’re killing the romance.”
Geece laid his hands on top of each other on his desk. “I didn’t know there was romance to kill.”
Turkey grinned, leaned forward in his chair. “All right, then sexual tension.” His smiles were uneven, always had been. A little bit wider on the left side than on the right. It made him look rakish, dangerous, hungry. Greece had been attracted to him once. Still was, a little, but the anger beat out anything else, even if they needed to be civil to one another in these modern times and so he couldn’t quite show it.
“My resistance only increases it,” Greece said. “Now get out.”
Turkey pulled his sunglasses back over his eyes, but not before Greece saw the flicker of hurt that passed over his face. The grin slid back over his features then, as much mask as the ceramic that Turkey had left behind a decade ago.
He watched Turkey walk to the door, open it –
“I’m keeping the dog,” Greece said.
Turkey looked back. Nodded faintly, grin slipping down and away into just a smile, small and gratified, and then he closed the door.
