Random fic is random XD

I did a rather angsty Turkey/Greece fic recently, and I wanted to do a nicer, fluffier one. Or, rather, as fluffy as I get :P Anyway, very subtle hints of Turkey/Greece, fluff, a bit of angst, and yeah, a caftan is kinda like a long tunic thingie. Google it, suckers XD

I have some coffee in my right hand

In my left hand I have a pen!

Write the fic

Write the fic

At four thirty A.M!

Let's go watch some AMVs


Read the fic, read the fic

By the glow of the computer!

With my Internet, I'm in top form!

I don't own Hetalia!

Please leave a review when you are done!



"Ya hate me."

Greece blinked at Turkey with his sleepy green eyes, head tilted in innocent confusion. The cat in his arms mewled, and the child stroked its soft white fur to keep it content. (Greece dragged the damned thing home two weeks ago; it was half-starved, matted, and absolutely filthy. Turkey still wondered why the hell he gave into the whines of "Please, sir, let me keep her!")

"Sir? What do you mean?" He asked, sounding as though he was half asleep.

Turkey grabbed the boy by the neck of his caftan and pulled him closer. Greece yelped, and tightened his grip around his cat.

"You heard me, kid. Ya hate me, don't ya?"

Greece glanced up at the large, intimidating man beside him, frightening with his white mask, his face obscured by a thick black covering. And yet, he wasn't afraid- he found it hard to be afraid of Turkey. Despite big talk and a rough exterior, he was far more bark than bite- at least, as far as Greece was concerned.

"No," he replied, bluntly, honestly. "I don't."

Turkey's brain dropped a flat what? In his mind. Not a year ago, the question would have prompted a definite 'yes' from the young nation, and a couple choice insults thrown in for good measure. Maybe 'asshole', or (Hungary's favorite) 'Ottobastard Empire.' But no…all Greece gave now was a tired smile. (He always looked so tired. It made Turkey wonder if Greece was ill.)

"You don't… hate me?" He shocked himself with how unsure his voice sounded.

"No, sir. I don't." Greece stroked his cat until it was purring and rubbing against his soft, uncalloused hand. (Animals, cats in particular, always loved the kid. And who couldn't? Even Turkey nursed a spot in his heart for the gentle, good-natured child.)

"Even after…after I…after your mother…"

"I forgave you for that."

Turkey was dumbfounded. Absolutely dumbfounded. Forgave? The thought was so absurd…

"I wanted to stay angry at you forever. I wanted to hate you forever. But I don't hate you anymore."

Turkey seized Greece by his thin shoulders. The cat meowed and sprung from Greece's lap.

Turkey turned him so they were looking straight in each other's eyes; Greece's eyes a clear green, drowsy and innocent, Turkey's eyes a rich brown, with an intense, searching gaze. He's looking for the lie, for some hint that Greece isn't telling the truth.

"My mother said that she'd always loved you, like you were her brother. So I decided that I would love you too."

Turkey simply looks at the boy for the longest time. He looks a lot like his mother, but a part of him was different- undoubtedly his father's. (And who was his father, really? If it was that bastard Roman Empire, Turkey was going to throw a fit.)

Greece's smile was almost heartbreaking. Turkey ruffled his hair playfully, grinning.

Greece looked at Turkey for a long time.

If my heart could be as beautiful as his smile…if my soul could be as beautiful as his…

"Yer alright, kid."


"I want my freedom. I'm taking back what you stole from me four hundred years ago."

Well, shit. The brat actually beat me.

Greece managed to get a couple allies- Russia, and that bastard manwhore, France. And he had beaten Turkey at his own game.

""From now on, I am independent."

Greece didn't look tired now. His eyes were focused beams of light, boring straight into Turkey's soul. He seemed taller, but that may have just been because he was standing straighter. He looked regal, almost imperial, spear in hand, loose clothing billowing in the harsh wind. Even covered in dirt and sweat and blood, he looked like a king.

"Feh. You're all grown up, kid," Turkey said, maybe a bit wistfully. "Things aren't gonna be the same with you off on your own."

Greece nodded, just a slight bob of the head.

"I know."


"You hate me."

They had just left another of those meetings that dragged on for far too long and that Greece slept through most of. They were halfway out the door when Greece said it

Turkey raised an eyebrow so high that it showed above his mask.

"Why the holy Hell would I hate you?"

"It doesn't matter why. You hate me."

(All their bitter words, insults spoken. He didn't mean them, but Greece must have taken them more personally than he thought.)

Greece smiled sleepily, and it was charming, beautiful…everything Turkey wished to be. If my heart could be as beautiful as his smile…if my soul could be as beautiful as his…

"No, jackass. I don't hate you."