❝but its hard to celebrate on your own❞
Title: A Celebration
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Words: -900
Characters: Turkey ; Egypt ; eleven OC Muslim nations
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Summary: An Eid present for chromatic_coma. Egypt hosts his family’s party to celebrate Eid al-Fitr, and Turkey is less-than-pleased to see his relatives.
A Celebration
Egypt had just finished setting out the plates and rearranging the vase of lotuses on the table when the door swung open and entered the room. Egypt sighed-Turkey never bothered to knock, and he opened his mouth to say so, but then he took one look at his friend and thought better of it.
For once, the other nation had dispensed with his traditional military garb and the scimitar usually seen at his waist; today he was dressed in a simple linen caftan, embellished lightly with gold at the neck and sleeves. He wasn’t wearing his mask, either, so Egypt could see the full measure of his smile and the twinkle in his dark eyes.
“Eid Mubarak, Gupta!” he said, clapping his friend on the back. Egypt, normally so good at hiding his emotions, offered Turkey a small smile and returned the greeting.
Formalities over, Turkey pulled a chair away from the table and dropped himself into it, his grin widening. “This was a great idea, Gupta-I love it when we have Eid at your place. Here, I brought dessert, just like I said I would.”
Egypt took the tray of tulumba, revani, and kadayif from his friend and smiled again. When he returned from taking the tray to the kitchen, he found Turkey eyeing the dishes of food hungrily.
“So when do we eat?” the Turk asked with endearingly childlike enthusiasm.
Egypt shrugged. “When everyone else gets here.”
Turkey froze, then turned his head deliberately to look at his friend. “What do you mean, ‘everyone else’?” he growled.
“The family.”
Turkey was out of his seat in a heartbeat, and the expression on his face changed so quickly, it was almost hard to believe that he had looked so happy a moment before. “You did not tell me that they were coming!”
“…I can’t imagine why,” Egypt murmured, too low for Turkey to hear him. Turkey’s opened his mouth in a snarl, but before he could speak, there came a low knock at the door. Egypt smiled challengingly at Turkey. “I should go let them in.”
“Dammit, Gupta,” Turkey mumbled as his friend stepped into the foyer, “you do this to me every year.”
There was little time left for Turkey to indulge himself in such comments, however, because when Egypt returned, he brought literally the entire family back with him. One nation ran ahead of the rest, wrapping his arms tightly around Turkey’s legs and murmuring, “Eid Mubarak,” into the fabric of his caftan.
“Hey, Cyprus,” Turkey grinned, ruffling the young boy’s hair. “How’re ya doing, kiddo?”
“Well, well, well,” a drawling voice called out. “Look who decided to come, this year.”
Turkey looked up and scowled. “Hey, Saudi. Eid Mubarak.”
Saudi Arabia, dressed in a crisp white thawb and smirking openly, returned the greeting mechanically before saying, “So, still desperately trying to get into the EU?”
“Don’t be rude, Saudi,” Yemen, coming up behind him, said with a stern look. She shook her head, her elaborate golden earrings shimmering with the movement, then glanced at Turkey.
“Many greetings of the day,” she smiled.
“To you, too,” Turkey muttered gruffly. Yemen’s smile deepened.
Saudi and Yemen were forced further into the room with the arrival of others; Pakistan entered in a flurry of fabric, adjusting her dupata and scowling as her thick braids fell forward over her shoulders.
“Hey, Turkey,” she greeted, the bright green and silver of her outfit providing a stark contrast to Saudi and Yemen’s white and black, respectively.
“How’re you?” Turkey, who by this point had become resigned to his fate, asked.
“Oh, you know,” Pakistan replied nonchalantly, “Millions of refugees, America breathing down my neck and my stupid sister causing trouble, again? All in a day’s work.”
“I said I was sorry.” Afghanistan pouted, her green eyes downcast.
“And I didn’t say that I blamed you,” Pakistan sighed. “Besides, I was talking about India, not you.” She grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her further into the crowd, as their brother Bangladesh followed after them, tugging at Pakistan’s skirts.
Morocco and Malaysia only managed to wave at Turkey before the two of them were pulled into the kitchen by Niger, which left Syria, Jordan, and Palestine in the entry.
Syria was chatting amiably with Egypt, while Jordan held his little brother Palestine’s hand and pulled him into the room.
“Yo, Turkey,” Jordan nodded. “How’ve you been?”
“Well enough,” Turkey grimaced. “Not starting any wars this year, are ya?”
“Not this year,” Jordan conceded amicably, while Palestine shuddered.
A few more relatives pushed into the room, and behind them came Egypt, whose eyes were lit with happiness as he glanced at Turkey.
“Still mad I invited them?”
“Of course,” Turkey mumbled. “Our family’s a pain in the ass, Gupta.”
Egypt laughed-or chuckled, so softly only Turkey heard him-and then called his family to order. There were nearly fifty nations present, and they sat down in groups, the Arab countries grouping towards the head of the table so that Turkey found himself sandwiched between Egypt and Jordan.
As the table descended into chaos, with laughter and conversation, Turkey leaned over to Egypt and sighed.
“Fine. I’m not mad you invited them.”
“I know,” Egypt said. And his eyes smiled.
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Words: -900
Characters: Turkey ; Egypt ; eleven OC Muslim nations
Rating: G
Warnings: n/a
Summary: An Eid present for chromatic_coma. Egypt hosts his family’s party to celebrate Eid al-Fitr, and Turkey is less-than-pleased to see his relatives.
A Celebration
Egypt had just finished setting out the plates and rearranging the vase of lotuses on the table when the door swung open and entered the room. Egypt sighed-Turkey never bothered to knock, and he opened his mouth to say so, but then he took one look at his friend and thought better of it.
For once, the other nation had dispensed with his traditional military garb and the scimitar usually seen at his waist; today he was dressed in a simple linen caftan, embellished lightly with gold at the neck and sleeves. He wasn’t wearing his mask, either, so Egypt could see the full measure of his smile and the twinkle in his dark eyes.
“Eid Mubarak, Gupta!” he said, clapping his friend on the back. Egypt, normally so good at hiding his emotions, offered Turkey a small smile and returned the greeting.
Formalities over, Turkey pulled a chair away from the table and dropped himself into it, his grin widening. “This was a great idea, Gupta-I love it when we have Eid at your place. Here, I brought dessert, just like I said I would.”
Egypt took the tray of tulumba, revani, and kadayif from his friend and smiled again. When he returned from taking the tray to the kitchen, he found Turkey eyeing the dishes of food hungrily.
“So when do we eat?” the Turk asked with endearingly childlike enthusiasm.
Egypt shrugged. “When everyone else gets here.”
Turkey froze, then turned his head deliberately to look at his friend. “What do you mean, ‘everyone else’?” he growled.
“The family.”
Turkey was out of his seat in a heartbeat, and the expression on his face changed so quickly, it was almost hard to believe that he had looked so happy a moment before. “You did not tell me that they were coming!”
“…I can’t imagine why,” Egypt murmured, too low for Turkey to hear him. Turkey’s opened his mouth in a snarl, but before he could speak, there came a low knock at the door. Egypt smiled challengingly at Turkey. “I should go let them in.”
“Dammit, Gupta,” Turkey mumbled as his friend stepped into the foyer, “you do this to me every year.”
There was little time left for Turkey to indulge himself in such comments, however, because when Egypt returned, he brought literally the entire family back with him. One nation ran ahead of the rest, wrapping his arms tightly around Turkey’s legs and murmuring, “Eid Mubarak,” into the fabric of his caftan.
“Hey, Cyprus,” Turkey grinned, ruffling the young boy’s hair. “How’re ya doing, kiddo?”
“Well, well, well,” a drawling voice called out. “Look who decided to come, this year.”
Turkey looked up and scowled. “Hey, Saudi. Eid Mubarak.”
Saudi Arabia, dressed in a crisp white thawb and smirking openly, returned the greeting mechanically before saying, “So, still desperately trying to get into the EU?”
“Don’t be rude, Saudi,” Yemen, coming up behind him, said with a stern look. She shook her head, her elaborate golden earrings shimmering with the movement, then glanced at Turkey.
“Many greetings of the day,” she smiled.
“To you, too,” Turkey muttered gruffly. Yemen’s smile deepened.
Saudi and Yemen were forced further into the room with the arrival of others; Pakistan entered in a flurry of fabric, adjusting her dupata and scowling as her thick braids fell forward over her shoulders.
“Hey, Turkey,” she greeted, the bright green and silver of her outfit providing a stark contrast to Saudi and Yemen’s white and black, respectively.
“How’re you?” Turkey, who by this point had become resigned to his fate, asked.
“Oh, you know,” Pakistan replied nonchalantly, “Millions of refugees, America breathing down my neck and my stupid sister causing trouble, again? All in a day’s work.”
“I said I was sorry.” Afghanistan pouted, her green eyes downcast.
“And I didn’t say that I blamed you,” Pakistan sighed. “Besides, I was talking about India, not you.” She grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her further into the crowd, as their brother Bangladesh followed after them, tugging at Pakistan’s skirts.
Morocco and Malaysia only managed to wave at Turkey before the two of them were pulled into the kitchen by Niger, which left Syria, Jordan, and Palestine in the entry.
Syria was chatting amiably with Egypt, while Jordan held his little brother Palestine’s hand and pulled him into the room.
“Yo, Turkey,” Jordan nodded. “How’ve you been?”
“Well enough,” Turkey grimaced. “Not starting any wars this year, are ya?”
“Not this year,” Jordan conceded amicably, while Palestine shuddered.
A few more relatives pushed into the room, and behind them came Egypt, whose eyes were lit with happiness as he glanced at Turkey.
“Still mad I invited them?”
“Of course,” Turkey mumbled. “Our family’s a pain in the ass, Gupta.”
Egypt laughed-or chuckled, so softly only Turkey heard him-and then called his family to order. There were nearly fifty nations present, and they sat down in groups, the Arab countries grouping towards the head of the table so that Turkey found himself sandwiched between Egypt and Jordan.
As the table descended into chaos, with laughter and conversation, Turkey leaned over to Egypt and sighed.
“Fine. I’m not mad you invited them.”
“I know,” Egypt said. And his eyes smiled.