Mutlu Yıllar (Turkey/multi)
Turkey looked around the room with building cheer as a few more guests shrugged out of their jackets and made their way to the buffet. Clearly such a good turnout so early was a positive indication of his increasing popularity- clearly it had nothing to do with the spread of free food and booze on offer. He had decorated the place for the occasion in a mixture of his old Ottoman style along with newer, more western furniture, and was making his way across the room with a glass of soda, stalking along beside the busy tables and listening for the praise about his cuisine first-hand.
“This is so great, Turkey!” Spain paused at Turkey’s side, dropping another meze onto his plate and jostling Turkey’s arm in the process. “Much better than Austria’s earlier where we had a strudel with tap water.”
“I am standing right here,” Austria stated.
“I know, silly, we were just talking!” Spain answered with a big smile.
“Glad you enjoy,” Turkey replied to Spain, beaming inside. “I chose the bottles of red wine with you in mind,” he winked.
“You did? You’re great, thanks!”
It was unclear if Turkey was being extra friendly to Spain in hopes of annoying Austria, but he did grin more when he noticed a slightly deeper frown in Austria’s features.
Austria gave his glass of wine a slow sip. “It is indeed a quite nice feast, but still its amount appears… uncalled for given the guest to food ratio.”
“Yer face is uncalled for.”
“Austria, it’s tradition,” Hungary piped in. “A good host must make the guests feel like kings.”
“Yep, like I always say,” Turkey replied, a bit surprised to see Hungary come take his side. “Ya turned into one fine, responsible lady. You were listenin’ after all.” That it was all thanks to him was a given, in his mind.
“Oh please,” the eyeroll could be heard even before Turkey’s eyes turned to Bulgaria, standing close by with some dessert.
“Now, don’t get all jealous,” Turkey joked.
“That was not jealousy!” Bulgaria protested. “Egotistical old man…”
Hungary chuckled. “That part is true.”
Egypt nodded, a movement that made him suddenly noticeable from the corner.
“Baba, your phone was ringing.” Everyone’s glances shifted lower to see a boy by Turkey offering him up a phone.
“Ah, must have forgotten it somewhere… Thanks, Kıbrıs” Turkey said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Ya always look out for me, unlike some.”
Despite his glare he wasn’t mad, since he stayed in the company while checking his phone. He dialed the missed call and waited.
“Yeah? Ya needed someth- What?! How…? Dammit, told ya a hundred times this wasn’t a costume party…! Fine, fine, bye.” Turkey hung up with a huff. “Romania will be late, had the cops called on him cause he scared some old people with his creepy costume.”
“Hey cool idea, you should have made it a birthday-Halloween combo!” Turkey turned around and saw America holding a couple of boxes.
“Huh? Oh, hey America.” Turkey had included America in the general invitation list, but actually seeing the kid turn up was a surprise. “Haven’t seen ya here in a while.”
“I was doing business in the region and I figured, why not drop by?”
“I see, thanks for coming!” America was one of the few in there that Turkey hadn’t had a long relationship with; be it friendly, romantic, hostile, or a mixture of all, so he wasn’t as keen on being completely informal toward him.
“No problem. But even if I had missed it I could’ve come visit you at Thanksgiving instead. Hahaha, get it?”
“Baba, to ten.”
“…six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”
“Anyway,” America said, unaware of Turkey’s mumbling “I got you a present and also delivered one from Greece, he said to hand it over to you.”
“…That brat got me something without comin’?” Turkey clicked his tongue, looking annoyed, but obviously he was curious as he took Greece’s box while letting the boy take America’s.
“Uh, Turkey…”
“One second Bulgaria, openin’ this and I’m com–!” His words were cut off as a puff of glitter exploded into his face.
The box was empty otherwise, minus a small handwritten card saying “Happy Birthday, you are old.”
Turkey took his phone out again, muttering an increasingly harsh string of insults under his breath. He paused, reading a new text saying “Don’t cause an international incident, I’ll get you kebab or something.”
“Dude, that stuff takes forever to get out, but you do look more festive now. So that’s why he told me to phone him before giving it…”
“Enough with that little shit,” Turkey huffed while dusting himself off in vain. “I’ll bring in the cake.”
“Hey I’m not late this time, right?!” Portugal’s voice echoed from the door, struggling to fit a box through it. “Don’t cut the cake yet, I brought a thousand candles or so for this old fogey.”
“Portugal, you really need that money,” Germany shouted from somewhere.
“…Is that so?” Turkey asked, before grinning and lifting his sleeves up. “Bring ‘em, I’ll blow em in one huff!”
His declaration was met with a loud cheer.