Ok everyone, this is my first fanfic ever... So feel free to challenge my writing and criticize. I love constructive criticism, and feeling like my writing has improved. I may not be the best, but I try. Second, there will be yaoi. Boyxboy. So if you don't like it, feel free to leave, or skip over those parts. But don't flame me, or do anything like that, because I won't hesitate to retaliate. Lastly, you all know I don't own any of the characters mentioned, nor do I own Axis Powers Hetalia. But I do know the story, thank you very much~

So read, enjoy, comment, hate. Whatever you wish dearies.

Chap. 1

He didn't want to be here, among the sand and pyramids. It was foreign to him, this languid Greek man, one who was used to the gentle sun and olive trees. It was out of courtesy to Egypt that he had even paid a visit to these blistering lands. He was here to examine a new shipment of pots he wanted painted? Or something like that. Heracles liked the quiet country, however strange his ways may seem. However, Heracles didn't really care why he was here at the moment. For some reason or another, he had left his own shaded lands for the sand dunes of Egypt.

He sat cross-legged in sand, cool shade of the sphinx a welcome change from the glaring heat. The Greek man had shed his tan jacket long ago, and it was perched his shoulders, as usual. A small mewling noise caused him to look down, shaggy, chocolate colored locks framing his large, sleepy eyes. A small, honey colored cat had padded up to him, brown eyes curious. Her long tail, tipped with white, curled into a question mark. "It's nice to see you too Isis."

His voice was lilting and calm, soft as the wind. The comment was for the small cat's sharp ears only. The cat cuddled up to his side, eliciting mewls of of outrage from the two cats already there. "Perseus, Theseus, calm down. There's enough room to share," he chided them softly. There was no real force behind his gentle words, but the cats listened anyways, forming a furry pile near his hips. Heracles sighed as the cats settled around him, as a weary mother does after all the children had been put to bed. Cats had always been attracted to him, no matter where he went, and he always had at least two following him. It had been like that ever since he was a child, and Heracles had quite grown used their quiet company, their bickering. It was all routine; in fact, most of Heracles' life had been a routine. Wake up, eat, deal with his boss, sleep. Repeat. His life was very slow, like the calm waves of the Mediterranean waters that licked the shores of his home land. His country. His responsibility. It wasn't to say the greek man was lazy, or forgetful, but merely laid back. An entire country to run and represent took a lot of energy, which explained Heracles' ever present drowsiness. Although he did leave much of the real work to his boss, sticking to the easier tasks, like foreign policy. It took much to rile him, much to rock the calm world he called his own. That's why Heracles did well at the meetings, always keeping things calm. If he wasn't sleeping, that is.

As if on cue, Heracles felt his eyelids droop, weariness stealing over him like a shroud. The heat was oppressing, and any extraneous movement seemed excessive. It was time to take a page out of Antonio's well thumbed book and have a siesta. Heracles let the tan jacket slip off his thin shoulders, and he arranged it into a makeshift pillow. Falling backwards, he felt the soft, warm sand cushion his fall, giving to the shape of his curved back. The Greek man looked up, marveling drowsily at the vastness of the great stone monument that loomed above him, feeling the motorboat purrs of the cats rumble through his body. It was perfect, this perfect afternoon, and for a moment Heracles was glad to be there amidst the sun and sand. Glad he had accepted the invitation. Then his eyes flickered shut, and he thought no more as sleep claimed him.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

It was a warm weight on his stomach that finally woke Heracles. "Ger off, Perseus," he murmured, still groggy with sleep. With one lean arm he reached forward to knock the large cat off his stomach. Or what he thought was a cat, at least until his hand connected with something that certainly WASN'T cat.

Instead of sun kissed fur, he felt a heavy material, and he realized the weight on either side of his stomach wasn't the other two cats. It was too solid, the weight trapping him there. His eyelids fluttered open, teal-green eyes soon after narrowing in utter disgust. "Hello, Sadiq."

A coarse laugh ripped from the olive skinned man's throat, dark brown eyes peering down at the boy though the slits in his white mask. The coat he wore was a dark green, a thin tan scarf wrapped haphazardly around his throat. Even in this heat he wore dark brown pants that disappeared into his knee high boots, a cheery red fez adorning his unruly mop if hair. A faint stubble was visible on his chin, trademark mask and sly grin in place as usual. The Turkish man had spotted the slumbering Grecian, and his devilish nature implored him to hike over and say hello. In his own, strange way of course. "Hello, küçük Heracles," he said with a chuckle, voice brash and more then a little amused. "It's nice to see you as well."

Heracles' gaze stayed steady, but his body tensed beneath the Turkish man. He hated the contact, the closeness of their body. The easy contact that spelled familiarity. It only served to remind him of another time, in another age...

"Oi, sort of brings back memories of when you were under MY rule," Sadiq continued, loving the look of intense loathing the mere mention of those times brought to the Grecian's face. "Werent those the days?"

Heracles's gaze was cool, untouched by the man's humor, but beneath the surface he felt a twinge of annoyance. Of all the countries, Egypt had to invite Turkey as well. Egypt knew the two countries didn't get along; everyone did. With a small, patient sigh, Heracles began to sit up. He was almost immediately forced back, gloved hand pressing into his chest. "Sadiq... Let me up. Now," he began, voice calm. The three cats gave loud meows of agreement. There was a steely undertone to his words, razor sharp, and a suppressed anger in his coiled limbs that Sadiq failed to notice.

"I don't think I will just yet, ufaklık," the Turkish man said with a sigh. He tilted his head down towards the Greek man trapped beneath him. "This is the price you must pay for-"

A fist slammed into the Turkish man's jaw, catching the larger man by surprise. He toppled backwards, cinnamon brown eyes wide behind his mask. "Ne cehennemde!" he swore, both annoyed and impressed. His gloved hand rose to his cheek, rubbing it gently to ease the pain. The Greek man may be small, but he was wiry, not an inch of fat on him.

Heracles was sitting up now, watching the Turkish man. A stubbornness was visible around his eyes, the way he set his jaw. Sadiq searched Heracles' face for some semblance of boyhood, any lingering traces of his childhood. All that remained were his eyes, still sleepy and warm, like the waters of the Mediterranean. Sadiq found himself entranced by those eyes, the last evidence of the child he'd once known. The child he'd ruled so long ago.

"I told you to move," Heracles reasoned slowly, tone calm yet firm. "And you did not. Therefore, my actions are justified." He stood, movements languid, and shook the sand off his clothes. Fishing his jacket from the ground, he dusted off the sand, slipping it over his shoulders. Stretching indulgently, he clicked his tongue once to summon the cats, and with an almost swaying gait, he began to walk away. When Heracles had gone not ten feet, he turned back, teal eyes catching the older man's. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Sadiq."

The Turkish man made no reply, just sitting in the warm sands as though carved from them. He was still watching the teal eyes of the younger nation, expression marred by his white mask. Heracles had always hated that mask, the way it allowed Sadiq to hide from the world, mask his feelings. He had tried many times, back when he was under Turkish rule, to remove it. Each time, he had failed and been punished. Even after freeing himself from Turkish influence, he could help but wonder what was hidden beneath the mask.

Heracles realized he had been standing there for a few minutes, staring back at the Turkish man, and blinking rapidly, he cleared his thoughts. It wasn't his business what the the Turk wanted to keep hidden. Heracles turned away once more, and started off across the sands, three cats trailing after him like sluggish entourage. It was time to find Egypt, then go home. Heracles was done with this land of sand, heat, and hate.

Sadiq stayed uncharacteristically quiet as he watched the Greek man retreat, growing smaller and smaller until the hot sands swallowed him whole. Greece was right. He had grown up a lot, and he couldn't be treated like a child anymore. Sadiq couldn't help but feel a trickle of sadness. He had once owned the boy, controlled him. They had separated with much hatred, and even under the ceasefire, the ambiguity remained. When had the young nation grown up so? And why did the Turkish man feel as though he had missed it? Heaving a large sigh, almost a groan, he flopped backwards, watching the wispy cotton clouds floating above him. Was there no way to fix this, fix the unbearable feeling of loss?

His lips curled upwards into a familiar, devilish grin, and Sadiq sat up as suddenly as he had lain. If there was any way at all, he would find it. It was his best or worst traits, depending on who you talked to. Already, he had the frame works of a plan. It just depended on how cooperative his contact wanted to be.

Translations:

küçük- little

ufaklık- little one

ne cehennemde- what in hell

Ok, so that's all for now. Hopefully you'll review, whether you liked it or not? Tell me what was wrong, what you liked, or just comments! I'll continue it soon, if people like this at all. I'll stop talking now, so bye~