A/N - Written for a challenge/meme thing on Livejournal - standalone snippets of the nations shopping at a pet store.
As you can see, my mind immediately went south to the gutter...
"You two fuck ups are going to get us arrested," Prussia hissed, careful to keep his voice down in the public space. He fought to not visibly squirm as fingers brushed along his neck.
His words fell on deaf ears (and dumb minds, if Spain's high pitched giggle was any indication).
Neither of his two friends paused in their actions and before he could raise another protest or ask himself – again — why he was letting them do this, the thin strip of pine green leather France had plucked from the display of dog collars tightened around his throat as Spain pulled the tail end through the small buckle.
Once it was done, France and Spain stepped back to admire their handiwork.
Prussia stood glaring, arms crossed tightly across his chest. "They're gonna think we're stealing this stupid thing," he said again, lifting one hand to tug at the dark leather. There was barely room to slip a finger under the leather and he shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling like the room was far too warm to be comfortable.
France swatted his hand away. "Well then, in that case you can just explain to them that we're not stealing."
"Exactly!" Spain chimed in, attaching a short leash to the collar at the nape of Prussia's neck and stuffing it down the back of his button down shirt to keep it from view. "We're just testing it out before we buy it." He beamed at the two of them.
"And since when do you care about being arrested?" France's lips were curled in a devious smile. "If I recall, it was you who baited that nice police officer the last time."
Prussia smiled at the memory. "I just wanted to get a better look at his gun."
France let out a very undignified snort, but it was the truth for once. It was a model of gun he'd been unfamiliar with and in his drunken state, Prussia had been determined to go in for a closer look. It wasn't his fault the officer had thought he was under attack. And that Prussia defended himself when that happened.
"Anyway," Spain's voice caused them both to turn towards him. He was grinning broadly, eyes wide with mischief. "I think the color suits you, Prussia. You should keep it on."
"Oh yeah?" Prussia challenged. "What do I get out of this?"
"Don't worry," Spain whispered against his ear, finger scraping against Prussia's neck to hook under the collar and draw him closer.
Suddenly France was on the other side of him, thumb running back and forth along the skin of his throat directly above where the thin strip of leather was pulled tight. "We'll make it worth your while," he added.
Slipping a hand in the back pocket of France's jeans, Prussia squeezed, while at the same time he snaked an arm tightly around Spain's waist. "You both better do just that." The words were practically a growl.
Then he pulled away, and Spain released his grip on the collar to allow him the extra movement.
With a smirk, Prussia snagged France's too fashionable powder blue scarf and wrapped it loosely around his neck. The stupid thing wouldn't do shit against the weather, but it would keep the collar out of view until they got someplace more private.
Sharing a last devious glance, the three of them hooked arms and went to rejoin West and the Italies, and Prussia made a note to take France and Spain along on these types of errands more often.