UEFA Euro 2012 - Germany vs. Italy

"What the fuck is that potato bastard thinking?"

Romano shouted to no one in particular as he tore his wristbands off and threw them onto the grass. He let out a frustrated grunt before kicking a nearby bench and storming into the locker rooms. He eyed his fellow players, who were clearly happy with the first half while he was not. The Italian accidentally bumped into someone, not caring that it was Mario Barotelli, and headed towards the one person he needed to talk to.

"Hey fratello, what's eating him? His defense sucks, and it looks like he's holding back-"

He paused, now noticing that his brother's locker was open with no one else around. With a sigh, and a glance at a small, empty box on the floor, he knew where his brother went.


"You promised!"

Germany froze, hearing the sobs threatening to burst from the familiarly accented voice behind him. There were a few moments of silence as the German coach dismissed himself from the room, refusing to even know what the Italian player wanted.

The tired nation slowly turned, and looked down at Italy's distraught frown, refusing to look at his ally directly in the eye. The clinking of metal caught his attention as the Italian raised his arm. Germany's blue eyes widened when he recognized the shiny, well-cared-for necklace hanging from the slightly dull chain in Italy's hand.

The iron cross.

The one he gave him long ago.

"Italy..."

The auburn-haired nation leveled a sardonic look at his ally as best he could.

"You are better than this. Why do you keep holding back? This isn't World War I or World War II, so I don't want you to coddle me. This is, however, a battle. A fight that I'm not going to lose. I'm being serious for once… so why can't you?"

The unreadable expression on Germany's face made it hard for Italy to stay serious when all he wanted to do was hug the larger nation and cry his eyes out. It wasn't until the Italian's eyes welled up, that Germany finally spoke.


The siren ending the match rang out as the entire Italian team gathered on the field, celebrating their victory. Romano felt himself get pulled out of the large mass of people and let out a yelp of surprise. He turned to see Spain's ecstatic smile before he was engulfed a loving hug from the proud Spaniard. With a heavy blush, Romano returned the gesture, discreetly watching his brother approach a large figure lying on the ground.

The younger Italian quickly glanced over his shoulder at his brother, and then looked down at the exhausted German. The blond-haired nation looked up at the Italian's upside-down face and smiled.

"Ve~ Germany!"

As the Italian leaned over, the iron necklace slipped out of his slightly damp shirt and hovered above the German's head. The auburn-haired Italian held out a fist, to which the blonde nation returned with a gentle fist-bump.

No holding back.


AN: Holy fucking shit. My German friends were pissed off by the end of the first half. I didn't have a preference of who would win, I just wanted to see an interesting game on Sunday. Sorry, but I didn't get an inspiration from Wednesday's game, so there's no story. And again, I meant to upload this yesterday, but I was kind of watching the game from work. At least my boss was just as pumped for this game as I was. Hahaha. Thanks for reading.