In the past, Spain had loved listening to how people had screamed in pain, or cursed his name. The sounds of entire civilizations being oppressed was sweeter than any orchestra.
Now, he really just liked listening to Romano swear.
"Fucking skin me alive and dip me in a salt bath, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Once, when he was younger and wilder, Spain had tried to master the language of swearing. For instance, after one particular naval battle, Spain stood in front of England, his sword at the Island empire's throat.
"Fuck!" Spain had proclaimed loudly.
It took five years for England to stop laughing whenever they met for a battle.
Romano made it look easy.
"What, did your whore of a mother forget to teach you some fucking manners when she beat discipline into you?!" Romano yelled, banging the steering wheel and slamming on the breaks.
Spain steeled himself. He had waited centuries, but now was his time to shine. He would swear successfully.
"What a whore!" Spain yelled, banging his fist against the passenger side window.
Romano slowly turned to him. He made a small noise of disgust. "Don't." Someone honked behind them. Romano whipped around. "Shove a giant dildo up your nose, you lazy son of a bitch! It's a stop sign, not a fucking green light!"
Spain felt his face split into a grin. He leaned back in his seat, nodding his head along to Romano's voice.