Warning: Rated T for swearing.

It was the feeling of silky hair against the nape of his neck, the scent of green tea and sheaths of paper, the light laugh and calm voice behind him, that have haunted Herakles all his life. It was security and excitement, refreshing and familiar; it was love, in one person. One person he has never met, except for in dreams.

There was no reason Herakles felt so strongly for someone he wasn't sure existed.

"You need to get your chronic sleeping checked," Yao complained to the head on his lap, yet nonetheless combed his slender fingers through Herakles' hair.

"I could stop if I wanted to," Herakles said, eyes already closed and face tilted towards the window, letting in sun.

"That's what they all say before, suddenly, they end up with thirty person-high stacks of manga and are asking you to clear out the storage room."

"It's not like your Hello Kitty obsession is any better," Herakles joked, although in his drowsy voice, it came out as a dismissal.

"Shinatty-chan," Yao poked Herakles in the back of his head, "His name is Shinatty-chan."

They were both awake at two in the morning, unusual for Yao only in the fact that he wasn't searching up videos online.

"And then Yong Soo said that Mei had eaten all my ice cream, even though there was a chocolate stain covering a good part of his shirt," Yao laughed, somewhere in between amusement and anger, and the sound of a bottle being tipped came through the phone.

"That's nice," Herakles said, sitting at a table set for two, one of Yao's books on world mythology open where his plate full of food should have been, "But where are you?"

"Oh," Yao said, and his voice sobered, "Leon was holding a party, and I haven't seen him in a while…"

"It was our year-and-a-half anniversary. I thought you wanted to celebrate."

"I thought you didn't. I mean last year, you asked not to do much," Yao answered. The line went silent.

"It doesn't matter," Herakles shrugged, even though Yao wouldn't be able to see it, "Just get home safe, okay?"

"Yeah," Yao said, and then, after a beat, "Sorry."

It isn't as if Herakles is besotted with Yao, and it isn't that he's forgotten the man (or perhaps woman, but few women have their hair that short) that haunted his dreams back when dreams meant something.

"My two brothers are coming over to visit," Yao sipped at the milk leftover from his cereal, blinds drawn closed because the light was too loud.

"I thought you said you were an only child?"

"Quieter," Yao hissed.

"Sorry," Herakles softened his voice, "I didn't know you had brothers?'

"Technically I don't, but you pick people up along the way," Yao held his chin in his hands, "I like to keep in touch with them."

"Oh."

"It's just Yong Soo," Yao stood up with the support of the table, "And Kiku, but he was never as troublesome. They're coming three or four days from now, I think."

"It's the fourteenth," Herakles offered.

"Three days from now."

Yao began to hobble towards their shared bedroom, and Herakles glanced over to the date circled in bright red on the calendar.

He would feel bad for stringing Yao along just for the feeling of company, if he didn't know the other was doing just the same.

Yao was making something to do with copious amounts of rice in the kitchen and the smell was heavenly, wafting its way through the apartment, and Herakles was trying to centre the books on the bookshelf when the doorbell rang. The sound of the exhaust went quiet, leaving only a sizzling noise. Yao came out from the kitchen with a plain black apron, an over-sized shirt, and sweatpants. Herakles looked down to his own semblance of a suit.

Yao pulled the door open and Hercules stood just to the right behind him, deciding the suit jacket would be overkill and sliding it off onto a couch.

"Hyung!" a man jumped at Yao, and Yao did his best to shake his brother off.

"Yong Soo brought fortune cookies," the other man held up a bag, plastic and from the Chinese restaurant down the street.

"Don't be modest, Kiku, it's from both of us," the man, Yong Soo, stepped back.

"Just you," Kiku handed the bag to Yao, "Good evening, Yao."

"Good evening, Kiku," Yao said, still smoothing down his hair and rumpled shirt, "This is Herakles."

Yao stepped aside and Herakles raised a hand in greeting. His eyes skipped from Yong Soo's face to Kiku's, and they lingered before turning back to Yao. The face felt familiar, even if he couldn't pin it to a memory.

"Good evening," he repeated, too preoccupied to think of any other greeting.

"Good evening," Kiku replied.

"Good evening," Yong Soo nodded.

The conversation stalled, as neither of them are were willing to feed it.

"Does anyone want food?" Yao broke the silence.

"You're from Greece?" Yong Soo asked, taking another pot sticker.

"Athens," Herakles nodded, "And you?"

"Seoul," Yong Soo answered, "And Kiku is from Tokyo."

"Oh."

"How was Greece?" Yong Soo continued.

"It was nice," Herakles shrugged, "It had the sea and the mountains."

"Philosophy, too," Yao added, "It was a busy trip there, in between all the museums and historical sites."

"There's a lot to do," Herakles agreed.

"Why did you leave, then?" Kiku asked.

"There's a lot to do everywhere else, too."

That night, Herakles dreamt of the man again, only, unlike before, with a face to match.

He had found his own, albeit small, apartment close enough to the magazine building where he worked at was, and the day consisted of waking up, walking to the business, writing and editing his articles, and then walking back to scattered sketches and stories before going back to sleep.

In some ways, he missed Yao. Definitely in the company and the things Yao coerced him into going out and doing, but not enough to go back.

And then there was the matter of Kiku- a man he saw once and then decided was the love of his life. He hadn't seen the man for two or three months, and had no idea how to find him again. He could ask Yao or Mei or Lien, because he'd kept relations well enough for the three of them, but it wasn't that desperate yet.

Herakles toyed with the paw of his kitten as he thought. Perhaps it was best to simply hope whom fate had been kind enough to show once, she would be kind enough to show again.

"We have the pictures from Seoul, lazy bastard, get up and put them into your magazine," Sadik entered Herakles' office, cluttered with papers and stray cats that had followed him in.

"I've never been to Seoul," Herakles answered.

"We have the report from the person who has-"

"It's not the same. I can't make your article."

"It's your fucking job to make this article."

"It can't be done. My sincerest of apologies," Herakles shrugged, going back to play with one of his kitty's paws. Yao hadn't allowed any cats, saying they were too much trouble, but Herakles was planning to take this one home. He could start adding to his collection again.

"Sincerest of apologies my ass," Sadik growled, "Find a way to make it work."

"You're stifling my creative freedom."

"You'd probably be working at a Starbucks if you didn't have this job."

Herakles started, holding up General Kitty to mimic his disapproving look. She did well, just like she would have in the army. Sadik stared back, finally deciding on a sigh.

"The photographer asked for you. He wants to talk with you about the article."

"Hmm?"

"Said his name was Kiku Honda," Sadiq continued.

"So that's his last name," Herakles muttered, standing up, and, General Kitty safely in his arms, walked out of the room.

A few minutes later, Herakles had invited Kiku for coffee, ignoring Sadik's yelling about how they could discuss the article in the office.

"Mei said she misses you. She wanted to say hello," Kiku finally said, taking a sip of his tea.

"I miss her too," Herakles sent one last look at General Kitty, faithfully standing outside when the employee informed them that cats were not allowed indoors. "How is she?"

"Mei's trying to make her own bubble tea shop. She said that none of them in this city are good enough," Kiku smiled, "I guess she's right. And you?"

"Alright," Herakles answered, "How was Seoul?"

"It was exciting, I suppose. I'll admit to eating more street food than I was supposed to."

"Sounds like Athens," Herakles smirked.

He sipped at the dark coffee he had ordered and looked at Kiku. His hair was black and cut so his bangs framed his face, his face was pale, and his hands were slender with clean cut nails. There was nothing particularly special about his appearance, except for the fact that it felt so right, so natural, as if once upon a time Herakles had spent days on end looking at him.

"There's a nice park with a couple of hills about fifteen minutes away," Herakles broke the silence, drinking the last of his cup, "I'd like to ask you about the photos, if you don't mind."

"Weren't you working?"

"This is work."

"Well, if your job depends on it..."

The wind blew, rustling the grass in waves. Herakles sat, his back to Kiku, their hands barely touching. He could feel the silky hair tickling his ears where his own did not, and he could hear a soft hum from Kiku, asking if he'd like to meet again. He would, but for now he wanted to take in the victory, and all it entailed.

A/N: Thanks again for reading, and reviews would still be appreciated!