America interrupted "This is such a sad story. I suppose it is bad taste for me to say that you must have been adorable as a kid". Mexico laughed a little "Does taste ever stop you from saying anything?" America laughed "I guess not". Mexico smiled "You are sometimes the most insensitive person I know. I am pouring my heart out here!" America pulled Mexico closer to him and kissed his neck softly "You are so cute when you get all righteous". Mexico whimpered a little "I am never going to be able to finish the story if you keep doing that".
America ran his hand over the band on Mexico's arm "Do you think your mother had any idea how sensitive these would be". Mexico whimpered again, this time much louder "Alfred…..stop that, you know what it does to me". America buried his face in the crook of Mexico's neck "Mmmhmmm". Mexico retaliated by grabbing the lock of Alfred's hair that stuck out and rubbed it in between his fingers. America moaned a little and his back arched "Al-Alejandro. That's not fair!" Mexico smirked "All is fair in love and war, my dear Alfred".
America pulled away "So, what was the sickness, did you ever figure out?" Mexico nodded "It was smallpox, I am sure of it". America hugged Mexico tighter "I'm sorry Alejandro." Mexico shrugged "What is done is done, but I will never forgive Spain for what he did. Now do you want to hear the rest of the story, or would you rather fuck?" America kissed Mexico's neck again "I don't suppose I could have both". Mexico played with Nantucket a little more "Story now, fucking later". America growled in his ear "I love it when you order me around".
Spain's house was very large, but Mexica hated it. He refused to be called "new Spain" and spent several days in his room sulking. Spain tried many times to get him to come out for meals, to no avail. Spain eventually gave up and left the food outside of the door. Even when he dared to try the food, Mexica couldn't find any comfort of home in it. Spain's food was so different from what Mexica was used to, he refused to eat it until he got too hungry to resist. He wanted something that could remind him of home, of his parents, but he couldn't find any. He couldn't even smell home anymore, Spain had given him a bath as soon as he got to Madrid and cut his hair. Mexica had taken to running his hands through his newly short hair. It was so uncomfortable to him, he was used to having long hair that was more often or not braided and adorned with gold and feathers. He hated not being able to feel it on his also hated the stuffy clothing that Spain forced him to wear. The cloth was strange; it was at the same time too rough and too soft. Just having cloth on his skin was annoying. He pulled off his shirt whenever he was sure no one was watching.
He was presently sitting in the corner of his room with his shirt off. There was a knock on the door, Mexica ignored it. The knock came again louder, this time Mexica responded "Go away, España". He expected Spain to say something about trying to adjust, but it was a different voice that responded "I'm not Spain. C-can I come in?" Mexica walked over to the door and pushed it open. The boy standing outside of the door was darker skinned than Mexica with very short black hair. He was an inch taller than Mexica and already showed the signs of a strong build. Mexica looked him over before saying "You can come in if you really want to". The boy took a step inside the door and closed it behind him.
Mexica walked farther into the room, and then turned to see that his guest had not moved. He said in clumsy Spanish "You can come farther into the room than that". The boy took another step, his eyes fixed on Mexica. This time Mexica was actually angry "Is there something wrong with you?" The boy flinched and took a step back "Please, Spain just sent me to try to talk to you. I d-didn't mean to offend you". Then Mexica figured it out "Are you scared of me?" The boy nodded and looked at his feet. Mexica sighed and walked over to him; he grabbed the boys hand and dragged him to the middle of the room. It was harder than he expected because the other boy was so much larger than him. He really wanted to slap the boy, but he decided against it "Can you at least tell me your name? Country and casual, please".
The other was trembling now, and to stop himself he sat down on the thick rug "I am Cuba, but you can call me Carlos". Mexica sat on the rug next to Cuba and started picking at the rug irritably "I suppose you know me as New Spain and Spain also likes to call me Alejandro. But you should also know that I despise both names, if you really become my friend then I will tell you my real name". He smiled for a second; it was the first time since he had come to Spain. Cuba had a shocked look on his face, almost like he had just been slapped "I-uh-well-uh". Mexica laughed at how flustered Cuba was "I'm messing with you! I'm sorry, that was cruel. You are obviously wondering something about me, ask away."
Cuba didn't seem to relax at all "is it true? That you are the son of Aztec?" The name struck a chord in Mexica's heart, the wound was still very raw "Yes, my mother was Aztec and my father was Mayan.". Carlos's eyes grew wider "Really? Is it true that she cut out the hearts of her enemies and burned them?" What levity Mexica had had vanished when he had to talk about his Mother "Yeah, that actually happened. I saw it a few times. If you don't mind, I would rather not talk about my mother". Cuba flinched again "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you. How about I let you ask questions? I'm sure you have a lot, I did when I first got here."
Mexica tried to turn his thoughts away from his mother "How long have you been here?" Cuba answered almost at once "A few years, I haven't really been counting". Cuba was starting to relax a little in the familiarity and Mexica was glad for it "Does it get easier?" Cuba looked at him with sad understanding "Yes, it does". Mexica smiled weakly "That's good to know. I have one other question". He walked over to where his dinner sat untouched and picked up a fork "How is this thing used?" Cuba looked at him incredulously for a second and then burst into laughter. Mexica felt very humiliated for a moment "I'm being serious! I have no idea what this is". Cuba stood up and walked over to Mexica "It's called a fork, it's used like this". He took the fork from Mexica and stabbed a sausage off of the plate. He held it up to Mexica "Do you actually intend to eat this". Mexica shrugged "I'm not hungry", his stomach growled loudly. Cuba rolled his eyes "Not eating is not going to help anything. Eat this, it's very good". Mexica gave up and bit the sausage off the fork, it was better than he expected, strange but not bad. He spoke through a mouth full of sausage "You're right, this is good".
Cuba laughed again "You are kind of cute, you know that?" Mexica smacked Cuba playfully on the shoulder "I am not cute! Do you mind giving me more?" Cuba grabbed the plate and walked over to the middle of the room and sat on the rug "Come here". Mexica walked over and sat next to him "So I guess you aren't scared of me anymore". Cuba stabbed another piece of sausage and held it up for Mexica "Well, you are rather scary when you're angry. But right now you're not". Mexica smiled, a genuine smile, before taking another bite.
Cuba continued feeding Mexica "Let me give you some advice, if you just give Spain what he wants things will go a lot smoother". Mexica shrugged "I don't care what he wants; I refuse to play at being his younger brother". Cuba glared at him "That wouldn't be a good idea. Spain has been very good to you so far, but if you keep defying him he will get angry."
Spain was sitting in his room reading the Bible. Mexica walked into the room and cleared his throat rather loudly. Spain looked up from his book "Ah, Alejandro, I see you have decided to come out of your room". Mexica nodded "You sent Cuba to talk to me and he was very nice". Spain nodded "I guessed he would be. Come here, hermano". Mexica didn't want to, but he told himself he had to. He walked over to Spain. Spain's eyes never left him as he walked. When he got to Spain, Spain picked him up and placed him in his lap.
Mexica didn't like being so close to Spain, he wanted to leave. But he forced himself to endure. Spain smiled "I'm very glad that you have decided to speak to me. How are you finding Spanish? Are you learning quickly?" Mexica nodded, "I have been learning". Spain stroked his face lightly "Very good, I am glad you're taking on your role as New Spain. Now that you have learned some of my language, I have something else I want to teach you". Spain opened the Bible and read a little in Latin, and then he spoke in Spanish again "This is the testament of the true God and his son who died for our sins. You will find this somewhat gentler than that pagan religion your mother followed".
Mexica glanced away for Spain, but forced himself to look back "If it pleases you, I will learn". Spain smiled "You are really a good boy", then he kissed Mexica lightly on the forehead "Now, let's begin with Genesis"
A/N: Yay new chapter, not that anyone cares because no one is actually has this on their alerts. Anywho, there is very little actual history in this chapter. This one was really about Mexica adjusting to being with Spain, and the origin of his relationship with Cuba
Historical Notes:
-Mexico's hair cutting and bathing represents the way the natives of Mexico were stripped of their culture and forced to embrace Spanish culture
-Spain teaching Mexico about the Bible represents the power of the Catholic Church in the new colonies and the forced conversion of many of the natives