"Teach me," Romano insisted resolutely, shoving the instrument in his hand towards the Spaniard's face for emphasis.

"Eh…?" Spain glanced from the Italian to the proffered object, finally snapping out of his usual lazy stupor. "¡Claro que si, mi tesoro! When do you want to start?"

"Now," Romano plopped down on the carpet next to Spain, the guitar held awkwardly in his hands.

"All right, to begin with, place your hands…" he gently moved the younger male's arms so that the left one bent upwards, the right downwards across the instrument. "Like this."

"Now what?" Romano prompted impatiently, shifting the guitar so that it lay more comfortably in his lap. Spain nodded his approval.

"You have the positioning down, so let's try a couple notes, shall we?" Pling, plong. Romano plucked a few strings experimentally.

"…I have an idea," Spain moved so that he was kneeling behind the younger Nation. Slowly, he slipped his hands over Romano's, guiding his fingers just so. "Now relax."

Romano, blushing furiously, took a deep breath. The Spaniard slowly moved his fingers, each pluck giving birth to a sweet twang. A drawn out scale, up and down. The digits moving his own so nimbly, the soft pressure…

"Now you try." Spain withdrew, watching the younger male expectantly.

Steeling himself, Romano stiffened visibly before moving his fingers, trying to recall exactly how Spain had moved them. One, two, three…

Pwoing! Wincing slightly, Spain resumed his previous position. He shook his head when he noted how tense Romano's form had become. "You need to relax. Deep breath."

Romano muttered angrily under his breath, but complied: one deep shuddering breath, in and out. After a few moments, he was calm enough for Spain's standards.

"Now let's try this again." Spain began guiding the awkward fingers over the strings again, playing out the notes. This time Romano payed close attention, trying his best to memorize the way each joint bent, and the pressure applied. But the Spaniard's warm breath on his neck was so distracting…

Before he knew it, Spain had retracted once more, and was waiting. Mentally berating himself, Romano started to play. Up, up, up, up, up, down, down…

Pwang!

"Dammit!" Romano let go of the guitar, clenching his hands into shaking fists. Of course he'd be no good at this. He was never half as good as his brother at anything. So stupid of him to think… "I can't do this. Stupid fucking guitar!"

"That wasn't bad," Spain soothed, placing the guitar back in Romano's hands. "It really wasn't, Lovi. You're doing much better than I did my first time."

"Tch," Romano scoffed, grudgingly moving his hands back to the correct positions. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's true," Spain insisted, once again moving to position. "I'm sure you'll get it with a few more tries. Just pay attention to the sound and placement of your fingers."

Romano, already tomato red again, scowled. He could feel the steady rhythm of the Spaniard's heart pressed up against his back, the feel of strong arms over lapping his own… "It's difficult when you keep distracting me, dammit!" The Italian shouted, without thinking.

"I'm distracting you…?" Spain inquired innocently. Romano knew his head would be tilting to the side as it always did when he was confused. Those green eyes looking at him with all the patience in the world.

"Yes!" he squirmed, suddenly wanting out of the embrace, wanting to forget about this whole stupid idea of his.

"Awww, Lovi, that's so cute!" Spain cooed, hugging the younger Nation close. "And you're blushing! You look just like a little tomat—"

"Stop saying that!" Romano argued, still trying to get away. "You say it all the time, and it's so stupid!"

"Awwww, Lovi, don't be like that!" Spain pleaded, letting the Italian out of his hold.

"I'll be however I want!" Romano countered, crossing his arms and pouting.

A short silence passed, during which Romano could tell Spain was restraining himself from oozing out some sort of other inane compliment.

"Well, I…" Romano began, glaringly at his foot. "Thank you, I guess. For the lesson."

"But, Lovi, we didn't finish!" Spain protested.

"I don't want—"

"¿Por favor?" the Spaniard pleaded. Puppy eyes at his age. Honestly…

"I'm terrible at it," Romano insisted, though he could feel his resolve wavering.

"You aren't, Lovi, I promise!" Spain gestured for him to sit down. "Just a few more tries, I promise you'll get it."

"Fine," Romano plopped down reluctantly in front of the older Nation, arms still crossed.

"¡Muy bien!" Spain arranged Romano's arms accordingly upon the guitar, before guiding him through the scale once more.

Romano listened intently, and observed his fingers, closely watching their movements. Inhaling deeply, he listened to the flow, letting the Spaniard fall out of his train of thought. Purposefully ignoring the man only distracted him, but if he could just accept his presence, and concentrate on the guitar despite that…

"Ready to try now?" Spain pulled away, watching the younger Nation with a smile.

And Romano began to play the scale. Up, up, up, up, up, down, down, down, down, down…

He let the final notes reverberate in the air, eyes widening in disbelief. "I did it, I…!" He dropped the guitar, flinging his arms around the Spaniard in a moment of over-excitement. But Spain wasn't objecting.

"See, I told you Romano," the older Nation ran a hand through Romano's hair, careful to miss that particular strand. He planted a light kiss on his lips, before drawing back. Romano couldn't help but think how dazzling that smile was, and how it carried over so fully to his expressive eyes. Such a pretty green. "Third time's the charm!"

"Yuh…yeah," Romano agreed falteringly, before regaining his usual composure. He shoved the Spaniard off him, and crossed his arms firmly over his chest.

"I always thought you hated the guitar," Spain observed belatedly, happy grin still stretching across his lips.

"I do," Romano insisted, frowning. "Because Feliciano's so much better at it."

"Then why…?" Spain let the question trail off, head cocked to the side ever so slightly.

"I…I just…"

Spain offered an enthusiastic "squee" at Romano's reddened face, before embracing the Italian once more.

"Hey, get…" the smaller man protested in vain. And this time, he didn't push the Spaniard off when their lips met.


I know nothing about guitars, so I apologize if I'm incorrect anywhere ^^ Please let me know.

This is for V-chan-rides-a-roflcopter. I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize for taking so long.

Reviews appreaciated!