Korea didn't really believe he made the pyramids.
They were grand and beautiful, but so stunningly simple to look at. When he'd first seen them he'd just thought they were stupid little triangles popping out of the sand. He figured some magical mother nature shit had made them and this would be close to visiting Mt. Fuji with Japan... he'd just happily claimed the mountain as his own even though deep down he knew some freak of nature had created the huge landform. Overall, he just wasn't really that impressed. Neither was he impressed with the pyramids--Egypt had looked at him patiently as though waiting for him to cry at their beauty and he'd just... stared.
"So what? I probably made them anyway."
He tried to surpress a yawn as his boyfriend started detailing how old they were and how much they meant to the Egyptian community, only earning giggles from the Korean. "Oldie, you're old enough to know all this crap." But he finally started listening after a welldeserved arm punch, and then the tan boy brought in something interesting. It made his eyes widen in confusion and astonishment.
"Thousands of my people gave their life for these."
The Egyptian boy went on to tell him about the slaves that had broken their backs (literally and figuratively) putting each huge stone into place, the slave drivers, the whips that cracked at faces and the delicate muscles all along the human boy. Korea actually winced at the thought, staring at the huge pyramids with newfound insight. They were huge. Some had hundreds of blocks. And people had to make them. He couldn't listen to what they were used for, too in awe at the mere sight of them now and for once, feeling something like... pity. He couldn't imagine being put through that much turmoil.
It's a good thing he didn't listen to, because Korea would be pretty creeped out by the thought of a dead pharoah listening in to the wet sounds of their mouths smacking together when he and Egypt made out against the Pyramid of Khafre that night.
As he gasped for air during a break while the Egyptian boy tortured some extremely hot spot beneath his jawline, his hands quickly got antsy and those fingers lazily roamed up under the many folds of clothing the other man wore. Egypt's skin was smooth and always cool, always left a spicy scent on his fingertips and always made him shiver when he touched it. But tonight was the first night he'd noticed the thin rises along the skin on the spine. He blinked, familiarizing with the texture, having felt it before on his older brother's skin.
Egypt seemed too busy becoming frustrated with the complicated ties on his jacket to notice his hands exploring the scars there further, thin and deep and some overlapping several times. Not like China's, where it was obviously a cut, indented in the skin, no, he could imagine welts here that had scarred over. He gulped hard. Whip marks.
"Gupta--" a pitiful choke that dissolved into a moan; the Egyptian man had successfully got his shirt off and was busy torturing his chest with that too-skillful tongue. "Gupta, I get it now."
There was a long pause and his body burned in frustration at the denial of pleasure. After a while he made a soft 'ehh,' worried that he'd said the wrong thing and rushing to think of a way to take it back.
"Do you like the pyramids, Soo?"
His cheeks burned as he thought. Korea wasn't really the one to think about what he said, but he didn't want to hurt the other boy or, most importantly, make him leave, especially during this particular time when he was damn hot.
"...Y-yeah," he finally mumbled truthfully, "...They're beautiful."
Egypt smiled. Korea's heart melted. As the other boy started to strip off his shirt the Korean carefully set his hands back on the pyramid.
No, he didn't make this. Maybe Egypt had, years and years ago, slaving over it way before he'd even been born, being whipped by some cruel leader that Korea had the sudden urge to punch in his old dead mummy face. Egypt was the best. He was perfect, and actually...
Gupta was a lot like a pyramid. Beautiful.