"You WHAT?"

Canada blushed red at France's shocked tone and looked away from the wide blue eyes that were gazing at him over the kitchen table. "I've never kissed anyone before. Is that so weird?" Sure, maybe it was a bit strange, but France was acting like he'd just admitted to murder.

"It is entirely reprehensible. How old are you?"

"Two hundred, give or take," Canada mumbled, still staring at his shoes, still a furious shade of red. "It's… Not that big a deal, is it?"

"Oh, you don't have to be embarrassed! I'm sorry if I startled you, but it's just hard to believe that you've never once… Hasn't there ever been a moment when you've just been swept up in passion and you seize the moment?"

"No." Canada finally found it within himself to look up again and began fiddling with an unused butter knife. "I mean, I wouldn't even know what to do, anyway."

If he'd been paying more attention, he would have seen the disbelief on France's face slide away into a sly, calculating smirk. Instead, he was caught off guard and nearly dropped the knife when France all but purred, "Would you like me to show you?"

"Oh, um…" Falling silent, Canada nodded.

"It's less than ideal," France mused, standing up. "The two of us alone in your kitchen." He shrugged, motioning for Canada to stand as well. "Ah, well. It's not the location that matters, it's the moment."

Canada shuffled forward. "So, what do I, um… You know, do?"

"It's simple: follow my lead."

Then the room was spinning and he felt the pressure of two lips on his own and his back hurt and then it was over. He blinked for a moment, trying to regain his bearings. France had not just kissed him, he had pulled him into a dip as well.

"How was that?" France asked, pushing his hair out of his face and laughing.

"Unexpected?" Canada smiled weakly.

"Alright, one more, and you can stay upright this time."

Canada barely had time to draw in a breath before he once again being kissed by France, and the fleeting moment barely had time to leave an impression before it was over.

"That was what we call 'chaste,'" France explained, and Canada was curious, because he was smirking again. "But there's more that I can teach you. Would you care to experience a lover's kiss?"

"I think so?" Canada nodded hesitantly.

"I'll warn you now, this one can be considerably more… forceful. You may want to brace yourself."

"Um, okay."

And they were kissing for a third time in the light tile of Canada's kitchen, but this was different. Canada gave a quiet squeak as he felt France's tongue run across his lower lip, and pulled away.

"I wasn't done with the lesson," France reprimanded lightly.

"Sorry, I just wasn't really expecting that."

"We can stop, if you want. After all, we do need to wash the di-" France never got to finish his sentence as Canada leaned in and kissed him once more, firmly, running his tongue over France's lip with an almost playful hesitance. This time it was France who pulled away, not out of shyness but because he was smiling too much. "You learn quickly," he said, catching one of Canada's hand in his own.
Canada smiled. "I learned from the best."