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033. Enamored
Nico would be annoyed, if it isn't for the warm buttery sunlight spilling through his open window, soaking him and his room in its delicious glow. He'd be a little ticked off if the light isn't accompanied by a slow, rolling breeze, just a bit cooler than breath, enough to disturb a curl or so. And he'd be downright angry if it weren't for Yasu, curled up next to him with her arm draped across his chest, face set in complete sleeping calm, feet twitching minutely, rhythmically.
He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, contains his laughter when she makes the most adorable face-- and here he is, falling in love with her all over again, that little pit at the bottom of his stomach firing up, making him sick in that wonderful way, like blue fire searing his veins. How can she sleep when he feels so enormously for her, is so close he can hear her breathing?
Then again, she has always been oblivious- no. Never oblivious. She has always been very good at denying and blocking things out, turning her blind eye to the truth when it's too much for her. Perhaps it's a part of the mystery that seems to be the Japanese.
He was staring at her.
Well, he couldn't help it.
She hadn't even looked up from whatever she was scribbling on- those lucky children of Japan's,
they always got to color during the meetings.
He tilted his head to the side, squinted, as if it would allow him to see her clearer.
She was so cute. The way her face was set, determined, dark eyes focused down on her hand, the page. Like a turtle. Except, she wasn't like a turtle, at all.
He wondered how he'd never really noticed her before.
Because he was pretty sure she was all he'd think about from that moment on.
It wasn't exactly love at first sight.
Wait.
Japan was talking to her, moving out of his chair- the speaking had stopped and the Nations were dealing with paperwork, fighting, doing questionable things in the hallway closets (because for some reason it had been apparent that a UN building would need a lot of closets for God-knows-what), meeting with each other. Nico saw that his siblings were playing with a couple other children, and nearly joined them.
If the two Japanese weren't headed his way. As in, towards him. In his general direction. He could talk to her.
It was rather gradual, really.
She hid behind Japan's legs while he and his Mama talked about something boring. Nico leaned forward, trying to look at her, maybe catch her attention. If only he had his yoyo. Enzo had taught him some pretty sweet tricks, actually. He'd heard that chicks appreciated good yoyo tricks.
She peeked out, brows furrowed. She was blushing.
She -- wait.
Nico didn't even know her name. Hi eyes drifted up for a brief moment, asking the Gods of Language Barrier to please grant him the ability to ask her for it, and for her the ability to understand. Amen.
"You were staring. Not polite." She sounded as if she spoke with a lisp, or if her mouth was full of cotton, R smoothly rolled.
He managed a charming grin.
"No vaig poder evitar-ho." ( I couldn't help it. )
... Smooth. He searched for the words in proper English, which despite her age she seemed to speak semi-well. Non potevo farne a meno? No, no. No pude evitarlo? No! What was wrong with him?
"What is your name?"
Well, that was unexpected, but it got the job done. He renewed his charming grin. She blushed harder, his heart beat faster.
A second ticked by. She looked about ready to hide behind her mother's legs again, but before she did-
"Yasu Hellen Karpusi."
Her voice was tart. He rather liked that.
Courting her was quite an experience. He smiles, turns over to his side, and pulls her close. Mine, all mine.
"Okay, fratello, you're not going to get her to go out with you, looking like that."
Enzo and Ezio had taken one look at their brother, aged twelve and rather dashing, if he did say so himself, ready to ask Yasu out on a date. A real live date, with food and kissing and flowers. He looked down. The flower (he didn't get much in the way of allowance) he was going to give her was still there, still pristine. Amaranta had even picked it out for him, assured him that it was the best one possible.
"I think I look okay..." he tipped his head, suddenly unsure. His brothers had, of course, stopped aging, but they were always older than him. They definitely knew better. Right?
... ... ... Okay, not right.
Nico desperatly wanted to kick off the uncomfortable shoes he was wearing, strip off the button-up, and go play a nice, relaxing, bloodless game of football.
No, Nico. You have a mission, he reminded himself sternly.
He knocked quietly, sure that someone would hear. Maybe the family's famed cats were enough of an alarm system. Whatever it was, a minute or so later Haruto (a string bean for his age, tall and fatless and very scary with his black hair and blue eyes, resembling a vampire more than a Greek, really) opened the door.
Like a butler out of the movies, eyes peeking through the slot, he bored holes straight into Nico's soul.
Mama would be proud of how quickly he got out of there.
He quickly grew a thick skin when it came to rejection. One has to do that sort of thing, when love is involved!
Nico frowned at the darkness of Yasu's open window. He could hear her moving about in there, he'd even seen her open it wide, for goodness' sake!
He glanced back down at the guitar he held in his arms. It was brand new, or almost so; he'd been playing on it for a few days, and they were automatically a match made in heaven.
Well, a little less good a match than himself and Yasu, but that would be obvious, thank you.
"Yasuuuuu ~ !" he called softly, grinning to himself. "don't make me shout! Everybody will hear ~ "
That did it. He knew her better than she thought he did. Her head, long hair out of any sort of style, appeared a few seconds after he started strumming.
"Go home!" she commanded in as soft a voice as she could manage. Her mama had never been a heavy sleeper, after all, and would likely be concerned about the enamored Spaniard playing guitar on their lawn.
She looked around, wondering if there were any pebbles she could throw as punctuation. There were none. For shame.
Once he'd won her over, though, things became a lot more magical. It was so much easier to love her when she wasn't about ready to strike him with a heavy historical artifact.
"I think I deserve a kiss, 'cause I've worked so hard to win you over..."
He was blushing, he knew it, and rather hard. His heart beat like the first time she talked to him, like the first time he saw that thoughtful face.
Her lips twisted. She was blushing as well. He expected her to...
Well, now would be as good a time as any. She took a deep breath, stepped up close to him, closed her eyes, and.
She barely reached his throat. Gamoto.
"Bend down a little, hmmm?"
She refused to even think about how red she was by then. And as he kissed her (for the first time, she was sweet but hesitant, not in any way a bad kisser, more like smart, she knew what she had and wouldn't give it to him, not then), he thought, things can be okay with the world.
He'd gone a long way from staring at the nameless beauty across the table.
 men getting pregnant · Tue Jan 12, 2010 @ 08:30am · 0 Comments |
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