"What are we doing in Greece?" Alfred proudly displayed his lack of geography skills, and didn't even notice the large family that all promptly stopped talking upon hearing him, just to glare.
Arthur joined them in glaring "Idiot. This isn't Greece, it's Cyprus."
"So it's Turkey, then?"
Arthur didn't hesitate to smack his head. "You're lucky I'm here." He nodded to the family. "They'd have given you plenty worse."
"Wha-?"
"Cyprus is its own country, idiot! The northern part is occupied by Turkey. The Greek Cypriots hate the Turks."
"How do you know so much about this country?"
"I owned it."
Alfred stopped mid-step. "Oh." Realizing that England wasn't going to be stopping anytime soon, he jogged to catch up with him. "So do you know this much about every country you used to own?"
"You'd ask that. Yes, I do. Flattered?"
Alfred grinned. "'Course. Why d'you think I asked? Ooh, kitty!"
Arthur sighed as Alfred ran towards the cat, effectively scaring it away. "What an amazing attention span you have," he said upon Alfred's return. "Way to ruin the moment."
Alfred shrugged. "That's what I'm here for. Oh, and the food."
"Is that so? Then I hope you enjoy a cold bed." Arthur kept walking.
"Aww, c'mon!" Alfred caught up quickly. "You know I was kidding."
"Oh, do I? Now stop acting like we're home. We're tourists, we have to keep up the act. Where's your camera?" Arthur adjusted the wide hat on his head.
"Right here!" Alfred produced a large, professional-looking digital camera and a collapsible tripod out of the depths of his backpack.
"Alright. Let's get started."
--
Several hours and two memory sticks of photos later, the pair found themselves at a family-owned Greek taverna. They had picked up Cyprus himself along the way, who, after complaining about the two Anglophones' tourists in his country, proceeded to introduce the two of them to Zivania. Cyprus (or, as they called him in front of the citizens, Kypros) had an impressive tolerance for the stuff, and was still going strong after Alfred attempted Greek dancing and Arthur was bitching about whatever came to mind and talking to his "imaginary friends", followed by both passing out.
Kypros had managed to get the camera away from Alfred without his notice, and, after about ten minutes of trying to figure out how to turn the damn thing on and get the first memory stick in, started flipping through the photos. There were a few pictures that seemed to have been taken in England at the Heathrow airport, and the next ten or so were in the Larnaca airport. These pictures were all of Arthur, or of the two of them.
Several were taken in the hotel room – that new hotel in Limassol that Kypros had refused to use his Unofficial Cypriot Discount to book for them – and Kypros very quickly came upon a couple of pictures that he would much rather have never seen.
The rest of the memory card was filled with pictures of ruins or beaches or even the odd group of tourists or citizens here and there. Kypros, being Cyprus himself, knew that he felt much more proud of his history than most of his citizens, and appreciated the many pictures of them. He even saw things he hadn't seen since the seventies – pictures of up north, where Turkey wasn't allowing him to go anymore, but Alfred and Arthur could obviously come and go as they pleased. Kypros suspected Alfred had let him have the camera so easily for a reason; to show him what he was missing out on.
He switched out the memory card for the second one, marked "Iggy's pics". It started out much the same as the first had ended; with ruins and beaches, and then one of a sleeping Alfred, mouth wide open and face sunburned, buried neck-to-feet in sand. Looking closer, Kypros observed how little Arthur's personality had changed from when Cyprus was a British territory – there were two very large mounds of sand over Alfred's chest, with a starfish on each, and a clump of seaweed over where Alfred's crotch would be. He suppressed a laugh, trying not to wake the drunken Brit next to him, as if the sound of a laugh added to the loud Greek bouzouki music would be the straw that broke the donkey's metaphorical back.
Kypros assumed he had found the two not long after this picture was taken. Alfred had still been sunburned and covered in sand when he found the two of them with their chairs comically facing in opposite directions, both with the same angry expression on their faces.
There was only one picture left. It was dark and blurry, and in the dim light of the tavern Kypros could barely make it out. It was a complete opposite from the sand-covered, comically sunburned Alfred from before; this time, Alfred was asleep on Kypros's guest room bed, after Kypros had let the two shower at his house. This time he was not snoring as he had on the beach, and he just looked peaceful.
Hm. Peaceful. Now there was a thought.
--
Notes: Wheeeeee I finally got to use my Cyprus OC!
-"Kypros" is Greek for Cyprus, and is also a moderately common Greek name.
-Cyprus was part of the British Empire until 1960.
-Please note that this is NOT the canon Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus character. This character represents the entire island of Cyprus, but still has all the restrictions on where he can go on his island as any Cypriot would have, as in, he can't go into the occupied area in the north.
-Cypriots hate tourists, even though the Cypriot economy would basically be shit without them. Cypriots can sometimes get discounts on hotel rooms (though it's not official and I doubt they're actually supposed to).
-Zivania: It looks like water. It's not water. It's a spirit that's pretty much 200 proof alcohol.
-Taverna: Not to be confused with a tavern, it is a small Greek restaurant.
-Bouzouki: It's a Greek instrument. I call it "The Greek Banjo."
