Stray

Fandom: Hetalia
Shipping: TurGre
Word Count: 653
Warnings: N/A

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He found him in a box, surrounded by meowing balls of fur. The boy was so still that he could have been asleep – or even dead – save for the fact that his green irises were suddenly revealed with he blinked. The two stared at each other in silence; the elder frowned, the younger looked on in calm indifference.

The boy’s clothes – a simple white cloth, smeared with rain and mud, tattered and torn – and his long, dark hair were both glued to him by way of the rain that seeped through the flimsy lid of the soggy cardboard remains. His eyes, wide and dark and seemingly full of an intelligence far beyond his age, glanced suddenly away from the man that stared down at him. Instead, he looked around at the cold, wet, complaining cats.

“…Kitties,” he murmured in a voice so soft that his words might have been lost on the wind if it had not been for the distraught undertone that made them ring with strength.

Turkey was startled by the sudden voice; he hadn’t expected the boy to speak. He had presumed him mute. The tall man sat carefully, attempting to avoid a puddle of rainwater, but slipping and landing in it anyways. He shuddered involuntarily at the sudden icy chill that seeped through his clothes. Forced himself still. “Yes, those are kitties,” he began, trying not to move.

That sounded stupid.

He tried again. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own. You’ll catch a cold.”

That was a little better, but he still sounded like somebody’s mother.

The boy regarded him calmly, but there was a slight flicker of amusement in his emerald eyes. “…You sound like somebody’s mother,” he noted, still speaking in that same nonchalant tone even as he cut straight to Turkey’s core.

He tensed, anger flickering through him for a split second before he managed to successfully smother it. He frowned at the young boy. “You’re a rude one, aren’t you?”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” He squirmed free of the box, causing a short avalanche of startled kittens. When the boy rose to his feet, he stood just barely at Turkey’s chin, and the older man was still sitting on the wet earth. “You’re tall,” the kid pointed out. He sounded interested, but still looked like he really couldn’t care less.

“Well of course I am. I’m an adult after all.”

“…What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

"What's an adult?"

“Well… an adult is somebody that… um…” Turkey was stumped for a moment. He quickly decided on, “It just means that I’m older than you.”

“But how do you know if you’re older than me?”

“Because I-” He broke off as realization dawned. He stared at the boy with wide eyes hidden behind his white mask. “Hey wait a minute… Are you a new country?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “I am Greece.”

He grinned. “Great! I’m a country as well. My name’s Turkey.”

Greece turned away, a frown tugging at his lips. “I don’t recall ever asking you for your name, stupid man.”

The grin dropped to a frown. “Wow, you’re really rude.” Turkey got back to his feet, almost slipping but managing to stay upright. He put both hands in his pockets and turned to leave. Stopped. Glanced back at the silent country behind him. “If you don’t want to stay in the rain all day, then you might as well come with me.” He shrugged. “I don’t really want to take in a brat like you, but if I have to then I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“I have no desire to stay with someone like you,” Greece shot back quietly. But he stumbled forward and grabbed onto the man’s cloak even so, following him and leaving both cardboard box and mewing kittens behind.