Prussia entered Austria's room without warning.

"Hey Princess, you're going to want pancakes too or what?" He asked.

Austria stood in front of the long mirror at the other side of the room, an expression of deep disgust in his face. Over the bed laid a pristine white shirt and his usual coat.

"Prussia, I have told you many times to not barge into my room like that," he said. He held against the light a couple of white cravats that looked the same to Prussia.

Oh, he knew one had a different thread count that made it show a slightly neater effect, and that the other was italian made and though it had a slightly lower thread count, it made up for that in the rich, velvety feeling it had.

But in the end, Austria was going to stay in the house all day, so they were both the same in that it all came down to personal preference.

"You weren't responding when I called from the kitchen."

"I won't deign to answer you when you shout across the house like a fool," said Austria. He picked up the shirt and held it against the cravats.

"I like the white one," said Prussia with a smirk. Austria looked down at him so bad, a lesser man would have cowered. But Prussia just sauntered to the bed and fell down on it.

"Stop messing my bed! I'll eat whatever you make, so go away already!"

Prussia smiled up like a cat at Austria, who huffed and did his best to ignore him. He decided on the italian one and left the other back in its place. Prussia smirked and rolled on to stomach. He knew every single one of Austria's cravats by sight and feel.

And sometimes, when he kissed Austria's neck and paused his lips over the sensitive skin, he knew them by the lingering scent of cotton and silk.

Austria put on the shirt and unfolded the cravat with practiced movements. He was still doing his best to ignore Prussia, so he wasn't paying full attention to what he was doing, but his body knew every movement required.

Prussia kept his eyes on the soft, long fingers moving the cloth. Bits of skin vanishing, and reappearing among a sea of white softness.

A twist, and then a second knot to ensure that it would not shift from place; because underneath the ostentatious exterior, Austria was still a descendant of Germania and the firmness of character waiting in the shadows of his eyes manifested itself in those small details.

Austria fixed his collar and glared at Prussia.

"You are ruining my coat," he said, and leaned down to grab it from the bed where Prussia's weight was wrinkling it.

The cravat shifted and moved as if calling attention to the soft skin it concealed.

Prussia smirked, and grabbed it.

"This," he whispered, trying to keep the overwhelming lust burning in him from showing through his voice. "This is the one I liked."