Today's prompt: First Aid- Got a bandaid? A scrape on the knee, an injury on the battlefield, stuck in a hospital bed, etc. As long as first aid is being administered somewhere in the story, whether it's actually doing it or just learning it, you can use it.

"What're we doing today?" America asked. His eyes were wide with wonder as England pulled from his bag a long, wooden case. "What's that?"

"This," England started, setting down the case, "is my violin."

He unlatched the sides, opened the top, and pulled out a rosewood violin. America's eyes grew larger. He got up from his spot on the floor to approach England. It had begun snowing and the young America was restless from staying inside. Luckily, England had decided to stay behind to keep his new colony entertained.

"Are you going to play?" America asked.

England felt a tinge of pink dust his cheeks. "W-well, if you want me to. But I was going to show you how to play."

"Me?" America broke into a wide grin, unlike any back in Europe that England had seen. "How do you play it?"

"I will show you how."

England hesitated a moment. To be honest he had never taught anyone how to do anything before. He wasn't sure just what to do. He could easily mess everything up and erase any interest in America of him playing an instrument. He could make it dull or become frustrated, taking out any on the poor boy.

"England?"

He came out of his thoughts to smile at America. "Here, why don't you hold this?"

America took the fragile instrument in his hand, but he had no idea what to do. He had never seen or heard of a "violin" before, much less played it. Instruments were hard to come by in the colonies. Most anyone heard were drums or maybe a flute, or a piccolo, but not something as elegant as this. He turned it around to examine every inch. The long strings intrigued him the most.

America pointed at them, ghosting his fingers across them. "What do these do?"

"That is how you make the music." England pulled out the bow. "You use this to go across the strings. Each one makes a different sound."

America giggled. "But how? It's all string!"

England leaned down to America's level. He placed the bow across the violin and lightly crossed the strings. Music sounded, much to America's shock and awe.

"Wow! How did it do that?" He looked at the violin much more intently now.

England laughed. "That is why I'm going to show you. Would you like to start learning now?"

America nodded enthusiastically. He grabbed the bow, holding it up to the strings again. England managed to stop him from moving too much. He situated America into the proper position, patting him on the head in approval when he was right.

"This is odd," America commented. He looked at his arm with a frown. "I don't like standing this way."

"It's all right. When you play you'll hardly notice how you stand." England smiled proudly at him. He didn't want to boast, but he was also happy that his teachings had gone well so far. Getting America to stand still was a feat in of itself. "You look like a professional."

"I do?"

In America's excitement he had moved the bow across the string too harshly. Forgetting his strength, the bow had pressed too hard. A few of the strings snapped. America shrieked as one whapped his cheek and others sliced open his finger tips. He dropped the violin instantly as tears sprang to his eyes.

England was quick and caught the violin before it crashed to the floor. He placed it aside, kneeling down to America.

"Sh, it's okay. It's all right," England said soothingly. His calm voice and reassuring pats on the head quieted America's loud cries. "Let me see."

America held out his hand had had been cut. England saw a few drops of blood weasel their way out of the small cuts that had neatly ripped across his sensitive tips. Looking to his face, a long cut across his cheekbone had started to bleed. England hated to see such a baby face be muddled in any way.

However, he smiled warmly to keep America calm. "It's not too bad, my boy. Come, let's clean you up."

America followed England to the wash bin in the kitchen. A small box full of medical supplies was stashed near it. England had left it there should America ever need it. England first washed the cut on America's cheek, and then the cuts on his fingers.

"I'm not a professional," America mumbled pathetically. All of his earlier gusto had vanished, deflating to a defeated pout. The tears had remained on the edge of his eyes as he stared at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I broke your violin."

"Pish posh. That's easily fixed." England had begun pulling out the cloth from the box. He wrapped them around America's fingers, careful to keep his hold as gentle as he could. "It was you whom I was worried about."

America sniffed, looking up from under his bangs. "You…didn't look upset."

England caught his stare and returned it with kindness. "I was, but I didn't want to frighten you."

"I-I wasn't scared!" America protected. He puffed out his chest and lifted his head high, but the tears on his cheeks said otherwise.

England chuckled, patting him on the head as he finished with his fingers. "Of course you weren't. But I was."

"A big empire like you? Why?"

England set aside the cloth, pausing before he finished with America's cheek. "Because I thought you were very hurt at first. I don't like seeing you cry."

America smiled slightly. He then hugged England around his neck. "I'm okay! You don't need to be afraid, England!"

England laughed and returned the hug. Suddenly, America jerked back as he hissed in pain. He touched near the skin of the cut on his cheek. England must have touched it when they hugged. He moved to grab a towel, dipping in into the wash bin again. He dapped lightly at the wound.

"Not too bad," England mused.

"It hurts," America whined. "Can't you do something?"

England thought for a moment. He never had someone comfort him when he was hurt, be it a scrape or a serious injury. Then again, he wasn't sure his pride would have let him being comforted in the way America let him do so as often as he did. Once again, he had no idea what to do as he had never been treated so kindly before. So he thought.

What would he want when he was hurt? It had been so long since he cared to think on his feelings. Now when he was wounded he hardly let it show that it had hurt at all. Yet, there always remained that initial desire for comfort. He pined for it when young from his brothers; something- anything to show that they cared. Even just a simple hug.

England scooped America into his arms and held him to his chest. The boy was too old to be rocked as he had when he was a baby, but he wasn't against having his back rubbed in a soothing manner. England moved to give a swift kiss on his head, but stopped. Something in him said to kiss his cheek on the wound. America's eyes lit up and he smiled.

"What was that?"

"A magical kiss," England lied. "D-don't you feel better?"

America thought a moment, and then nodded. "I do! Wow! You're magical!"

"O-Of course!" England proclaimed smugly. He buffed out his chest in a very similar fashion as America had done so earlier. "Now then, let's go back into the seating area."

"But your violin…," America started.

England shook his head. "Don't fret. I can repair it. Why don't you build a fire while I work?"

America nodded, satisfied. Together they returned to the front room. America started on the fire while England set to work restringing his violin. Years of breaking his own allowed him to learn how to do so without the use of another. As such, he had become rather good at repairing any bow or string on any wind instrument. In no time at all it was fixed.

England pat his knee. "Come here, America."

America scurried over, eyes wide once more as he had when he first saw the violin. "Are you going to play now?"

"Yes, I think that's best. I shall teach you another time." England raised the violin under his chin. "Now listen."

And America did. He watched as England changed from his usual stern and tense form into a fluid and gentle man. It was so unlike him that America was enraptured by the change. England kept his eyes closed as he swayed with the music, his bow dipping down, England's body following as if being pulled by it. America didn't know the tune, but he didn't have to. England's movements were mesmerizing enough. America remained perfectly still lest he break the mood. By the end of the song, America had become enchanted by the beauty.

England smiled as he lowered the violin and bow. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes!" America shouted. He put his hands over his mouth, his face red to his ears in embarrassment. He then whispered, "I mean, yes."

England chuckled, placing the instrument on the table beside him. "When your fingers heal I shall teach you that melody. It's not very difficult and you'll master it in no time. And one day, we shall play together."

America could hardly contain his joy. He wanted to play for England right this moment. The thought of someone he adored being scared bothered him. He wanted to play for England if he was ever hurt or scared too. Or maybe, he could give a magical kiss to make all the pain go away.

Hoshiko2's cents: I could not resist a young America story for this prompt. It's super cute! I hope you enjoyed day 2!