Prussia can't dance.
He can't and he won't and Austria is a fool for trying to teach him. His feet stumble over smaller, more experienced ones and his hands grasp at the silk of the other's vest.
"Stop slouching."
The commanding, accented voice cuts through the air, breaking the stuffy, too-hot atmosphere created by the heaviness of the drawing room. Prussia manages to give him the semblance of paying attention, though it doesn't last for very long.
Fingers dance down his shoulder and push against his back, forcing it straight if only for a few minutes more. They travel back up to his shoulders to meet the other hand and push their platforms back slightly.
Satisfied for the moment, Austria gazes up. He finds the other distracted, eyes roving the room in an effort to find something entertaining. A sigh tickling his collar directs his sight back down.
Prussia grins.
The air is permeated with muffled curses for the next few seconds as he tries to pick the other up. Austria is indignant.
"Insufferable." He mutters, shoving him away with faint colouring seeping into his cheeks. Prussia laughs and pulls him closer. The colour deepens.
"Completely and utterly insufferable."
Austria's sofa was the ugliest shade of green Prussia had ever seen in his life.
It wasn't even green anymore - it was more of a dusty brown than the dark emerald colour it'd been when he first got it. Patches of random fabrics and colours decorated the once gaping holes worn into the leather from (over) use, and it wasn't even comfortable!
Yet Austria refused to throw it out. So he resolved to ruin it. Prussia had tried spilling beer on it, spilling dessert on it, and even going as far as to dump rubbing alcohol onto the cushions. No such luck. At all.
The damned thing was indestructible.
Austria, on the other hand, enjoyed the little couch. He'd bought it back when it was in style, and never really took the time to get rid of it despite Prussia's vehement protests. After all, it wasn't as if there was anything wrong with the piece, as long as he patched it up every time the leather ripped. And it didn't matter what the other said because it was his couch and he could chose to do whatever he pleased with it.
Or, at least, he hoped that was the case.
Hey there fandom, it's been a while, huh? Now that my workload's lightened up a bit, I'll be posting a lot more often.
As always, hope you enjoyed this little two-for-one and any comments, critiques, questions, requests (no, seriously), or just plain conversation is welcome!
Pan