People to the left, people to the right, people in front and people behind. All sitting on black and white chairs. Row after row. Column after column. Fat ones, skinny ones, tall ones, small ones, smelly ones and...ok, there were no not-smelly ones. Not in this crowd, not in this heat, not with all the excitement.

Furthermore there were brazilian flags, german flags, brazilian flags, germany flags, more of the same, some hats, some more flags, some people holding confetti (oh God!), some caxirolas(OH GOD!), and some signs ranging from small barely-seen writing on a cardboard, to large wall-sized sheets that'd be hated by everyone in-front or behind them.

And they had to go through that.

Because someone bought seats in the middle of the row.

Said someone was currently behind her, looking completely sheepishly. First he brought seats in the middle of the row, than he had the gall to drag her through shops and now they were almost late and everyone else was already seated, so they had to plow through an impressive mass of people.

She took one step forward - then another. Unlike other people who'd apologize and tried to squeeze through, Azula was powerwalking through anyone unwise enough not to shrink in his or her seat. Which was no one, since her pure, distilled hatred oozed through her body into anyone around her and for those brave enough to look, her venomous glare broke their will.

Of course the goof behind her kept saying "Sorry!" and "Excuse us!" and "Thank you!" and other similar lies that undermined her was neither sorry, nor thankful and they had to know that. Fuck them for being in her way.

Finally, after some effort that could have been saved if Sokka listened to her and they were early, they got to their seat. Azula sat on the black chair, Sokka on the white to the left.

Around her the crowd was less wild. The organizers of the event had been wise enough to separate the feverous Brazilian fans from the feverous German fans, as to avoid any incidents. Around them the people were relatively casually dressed. Although the various items were there, they couldn't compare to those sections of the stadium where the hardcore fans dwelled. In short they were the normal people buffering the crazies.

People like Sokka - who carried no distinguishing items or signs were the norm, people like her - who had painted German flags on their cheeks - though not rare, were uncommon.

Azula was a fan of the Deutsch national team through early childhood. She was not a fan of soccer, per say, but she was a fan of the German team, as the team brought many fond memories of her and her father watching the game together. Ozai even took her to a match once. Ultimately, she was going to watch this match not for the love of the game, but for the love of the team.

Sokka was a much more avid fan of the game, but his team was England and nothing more needs to be said on the matter.

A few seconds after they took their places some people started to go on the green field below, carrying the flags of Germany, Brazil and the Fédération Internationale de Football Association. Shortly thereafter, from the same hole the flag-people came out of, the players, holding one of those annoying squeaky things called children started pouring out. Being waved infront of them was a strange yellow flag that Azula could not recognize.

There were cheers, deafening cheers.

For now Azula was not cheering, just clapping - those teams would need to prove themselves to her, before she started cheering.

Then the teams got into a single straight line, putting the arms above their neighbours neck, facing the crowd with the children infront of them.

The German national anthem began to play, to the subdues cheers of the crowd, as the German players sang. It went for a minute or so, followed by respectful cheers from the crowd.

The hosts were second. It was only then that Azula noticed the shirt the Brazilians were holding. Number 10, that of Neimar, their star player. She smiled a little to herself, she was never a fan of fair play so seeing the enemy without their number one was a good day for her.

As the Brazilian national hymn was playing, the stadium echoed with the voice of the Brazilian public reciting their hymn along with their players. Even when the music stopped, they continued singing it.

The teams proceeded to shake hands and started to move into their formations.

"Ok Sokka, times up, give me your prediction." since the match was announced Azula was trying to gauge a prediction out of her lover "Germany-Brazil, semi-finale, score?"

Sokka rubbed his chin in that oh-so-important, 'I'm thinking' way.

"I'm going to go with 2 to 1 for Germany, maybe even 1 to 1 with extension. Germany has been playing well this season, Brazil is missing their star member, but you know - it's Brazil. They always play well." The captains of the teams below were trading flags and posing for pictures.. "Though I'd like it if Germany won 2 to 0. Brazil's been playing really dirty this whole season and I don't like it."

For a moment he stopped talking and the crowd stopped cheering. Azula too lost interest about anything around her and her attention was focused on the green field, the ball and the two players near it. The whistle blew and the ball was off.

It went to the germans.

The atmosphere of the players, the spectators, the commentator and in general of the world cup had washed Sokka and Azula up and taken them like a tsunami. Sokka was cheering loudly, so was Azula. Her conservative nature forgotten as the spirit of the game rose.

For many people this should have been the finale, Sokka himself was pretty disappointed that this was but a semi-final, but who cared. Germany vs Brazil, for the 2014 World Cup, this was the match to watch ,the place to be. A heavily contested match where two top-tier teams were going to give a world-class game.

By the end of the first minute the Brazilians were already playing on the German side of the field and had the Krauts on the ropes.

Marcello took the first shot at the German net on the second minute.

It wasn't until the first third of the third minute that Germany took control of the ball.

The Brazilians contested the ball on the fourth minute and from then 'till the 7th minute it was anyone's game, when Germany got a good shot at the goal, only to be stopped by the Brazilian defense. It was the perfect back-and-forth match one would expect from these two teams. One moment they were on the German side of the field, the next they were on Brazil's.

Then the 10th minute happened. Kroos shooting from the corner passed the ball to Müller and at the 10th minute and 20th second the stadium exploded as Müller scored the first goal into Brazil's net.

By the time Sokka was able to get his bearings, he realized he was standing up, like most of the people and screaming. To his right, Azula's screams of happiness and joy nearly deafened the public, to his right a cacophony of cheers.

The German players were hugging and kissing each other.

The ball was returned into play, but it took the public awhile to settle down.

He looked to his right again, to his wonderful girlfriend that painted the German flag on her cheeks. There was a large smile on her face. Not her trademark smirk born of malice or cunning, but one of those smiles that went from one cheek to the other. Pure innocent happiness was radiating from her, like light radiate from the sun.

Had he better self-control, he wouldn't have played mister cautious.

"You know that doesn't mean Germany won." Azula, of course, looked at him sharply, as if he was talking heresy "It was a lucky goal, at the eleventh minute it was pure luck. Sometimes it happens, the Brazilian National Team is fully capable of recovering from a 1 - 0, it just means that they'll be more careful from now on."

Which was a sentiment echoed by the commentator, though that didn't dampen his girlfriend's mood.

The game again set itself into a typical back-and-forth from then on, some feints, some taking the ball out of the field, some people faking injury. The typical things one would expect from a match. At the sixteenth minute it looked like the players were about to start a fight in the middle of the field, something about an attack or so, Sokka could exactly get what it was.

Then, with no penalties given, the game returned to normal.

Until the twenty-second minute. After a strong push, Klose made the second goal for Germany and the crowd again exploded - at least from the German side. The Brazilian public looked mortified. Azula was jumping from excitement, Sokka felt as if his jaw would hit the floor. The Krauts on the field were nearly dancing. A 1 - 0 advantage was lucky and things like this happened? 2 - 0 was a serious and worrying result, especially when it happened before the halfway of the first-half.

After things calmed down, Azula said nothing. Instead she just locked eyes with him, for a moment too long for comfort and start slipping a snide, smug smile.

Then the commentator screamed "BERNARD!" and both he and Azula bolted their eyes back on the field, where a lone Brazilian player was lying on the ground, after an attempted attack. It was too close for comfort, but it seemed he did not score.

Next to him, Azula gave a sigh of relief. Germany was ahead, but it was not that far ahead.

Then a few seconds and several hits later Krose scored.

Cheers once again filled the stadium and the German players were celebrating, but in general there was this atmosphere of shock. How? This is the Brazilian National Team, this shouldn't be happening. Why is this happening?

Then before emotions could come down or even the public process the last goal, Kroos scored another for a 4 - 0 lead.

If Ty Lee were here to see Azula, even she'd say "Geez, calm the fuck down!". The korean girl was like a freshman that overdosed on sugar and caffeine. As if she had gulped down the infamous use-Red-Bull-instead-of-water-for-your-cafe gurb.

Then to make matters worse, they started to show the faces of the Brazilian public, crying.

His girlfriend could keep it no longer, she started to scream at him, full volume, cutting through the crowd. "They're humiliated, they're completely and utterly humiliated, the shame is going to follow them forevermore." there was so much innocent happiness on her face, for such a national tragedy, that Sokka did not know how to react.

Then again, right now Azula was getting the two things she loved the most - seeing the enemy defeated and seeing the enemy utterly humiliated.

She again fixed her eyes on the screen and the crying faces "Cry!" Azula bellowed "CRY AND WALLOW IN YOUR MISERY!"

Sokka was just stunned, this was not happening in a semi-final, not to Brazil anyway.

The commentators weren't giving Brazil an inch either, they just started to rip on the team. Especially Fred, who despite his promising performance before the season, disappointed a lot of people at this world cup.

Which in turned made Azula even happier. Sokka was just lost.

Once the ball was in play again, The Brazilian team took possession and started playing as if they were desperate for a goal. They were, they needed one immediately, not in ten minutes. 1 - 0 was lucky and good, 2 - 0 was bad. 4 - 0 was a disaster!

But then Brazil lost the ball again and in a flash they were suddenly not on the German side, but on the Brazilian, then they were closing in on the goal, then Khedira kicked the ball into the net for a 5 - 0 lead.

Sokka looked around him in stunned silence, there were people cheering, but there were a few as lost as him. What was going on? Were the Brazilians that bad? Did they just have the worst off-day since 1950. But he didn't have time to think, because in a flash two hands had grabbed his shirt.

In a moment he registered Azula's face closing in, then there were her soft, full lips pressed against his in a dazzling kiss. Her tongue entering his mouth, his hers.

Azula pulled away from him, not too fast, not too slow. Her eyes were glimmering, that smile having never left her mouth. She just threw herself against him again, but this time in warm, loving hug.

He could hear her whispering in his ear "They're crying Sokka, they've been reduced to ash. Their hopes dashed under the efficient german boot." he heard sniffing. Slowly Sokka caressed her face, noting the moisture on his fingers. Azula was crying "Look at them." she said through tears of joy "They're leaving their seats. The audience is abandoning them." she sounded so joyful "I haven't been this happy since I hugged my mom." Sokka just sat there, keeping her close to him.

For his part he was just embarrassed for the Brazilians. They deserved some pounding for the dishonorable way they played, but not like this. Their team had completely fallen apart.

Which showed in the game thereafter. They were disorganized, in fact it would be accurate to say that the Germans were toying with them.

Five minutes passed...

Then five more.

Azula was getting impatient.

"Why? Why aren't they scoring more goals!?"

"I think the Germans are being polite."

"Fuck polite!" Azula stood up, climbed on her chair and started yelling at the players "Crush them! Give them no mercy, no quarter! Make them cry on camera, make them feel the pain!"

Sokka on his part was trying to pull Azula back down. "Sit down please, this isn't polite."

"Didn't you hear me? Fuck polite! Oh, Germany, do what you do best! Get those pinoys and make them regret…"

A horn blew and the first half was over.

That was a relief, it would give Azula some time to cool down.

"Arlight Azula, I'm going to get some Budweiser, want some?"

"Yeah sure, large one."

When Sokka returned he noticed Azula sitting on her seat dishelven. It was a rare sight - which made it somewhat sexy in his book. She sitting there, strands of hair uncharacteristically sticking out, sweat gleaming off her skin. If the break was ten minutes longer, he'd suggest they go to the bathroom for a quicky.

But it wasn't, so he took his seat, passed her the Budweiser and waited for the second half to start.

It wasn't a long wait, especially with his trip to buy drinks, although he found out he'd lost interest in the game. It was 5 - 0 and although the Brazilian team had pulled some miracles in the past, this was not going to happen. The team was demoralized and it showed. Even the Brazilian fans booed their players every time they got the ball - especially when Fred took possession.

Instead he focused on Azula. She was grumpy and pouting, severely disappointed that the German team had decided to show sportsmanship and weren't scoring goal after goal after goal. But that wasn't what he was looking for, he marveled her sweat stained clothes and disheveled hair. It was rare to see Azula in this condition and it was such a treat for him.

His pouting, sweating princess with messy hair.

The game itself has gone into a pattern of kicking the ball around. The commentators were ripping on Fred, some comments were going on about Scolari, the general performance of Brazil during the whole event was question. The stadium had lost quite a large chunk of it's audience. Not a majority, but the empty seats were quite noticeable, especially on the font of how packed the place was at the start.

On the sixty-eight minute however, it seemed that the Germans ran out of mercy as Schürrle drove the ball into the net for a 6 - 0 lead. There wasn't much cheering or celebration from the audience and the players themselves didn't seem to celebrate too much. Even the commentators weren't excited anymore. The game had ended at the thirtieth minute and now everyone was just waiting for this humiliation to end.

Except Azula, who was revitalized into action, as once again she started to cheer and demand more goals and more pain for Bazil. She even got to see Fred removed from the field and replaced by William.

The seventy-eight and a half minute did gave her another reason to celebrate as Schürrle scored his third goal for a 7 - 0 advantage. Though even she, at this point, had started to lose interest in the match. It is too hard to be excited for such a one-sided game that ended a long time ago.

At this point, she, Sokka and the rest of the audience were just waiting for the end.

In the eighty-ninth minute and fifty-third second a miracle appeared. The ball was kicked from the Brazilian side, deep into German territory, where Oscar was waiting to score a career saving goal and bringing the game to 7 - 1 score.

The stadium went nuts. The public was revitalized, cheers "Brazil! Brazil!" went on without a hint of irony. It was not going to win the game, but for the first time this match, Brazil scores.

Azula was on her feet, cursing to high heavens.

"The fuck was that!?" her face had gone red "What are you, an inbred? Why did you let him score, my mother plays better soccer than you and the last time she played the Roman Empire was still standing!"

Then Azula, swept by the fervor of the game, gurgled deep down into her throat and spat with all her might into the public.

"Hey, what the heck?" A gentleman three roles ahead bolted up and turned towards them. Said gentleman appeared tall, pissed and had painted the left side of his face in the Brazilian flag. He was ready to start some serious shit.

Then Sokka noticed there was something wrong with his left eye, then in a moment it hit him - he knew this gentleman.

Laughter came from his right, as he saw Azula pointing at him and cackling. Then she fell into her seat, laugh harder and harder. Sokka himself was stiffing his laugh. As Azula started to gasp for air.

Poor Zuko.

On the way back they were riding a bus. The organizers were wise enough to bring buses to escort German fans to their destinations. Seeing how Azula had plastered the German flag all over her face, that included them as well. So now Sokka was sitting on the isle-side of the bus, while Azula was holding a german flag (where did she get that from?) and banging on the window.

There was another problem on Sokka's mind at the moment though. Azula had bought a german-themed bikini to wear if Germany won. Considering how things went she'd demand to go to the beach in them tomorrow. He had to find a way to change her mind.

"You know what the best part of this is though?" He heard his girlfriend's voice "The cherry on the top I mean?"

"What?"

"Not only did they suffered their most humiliating defeat since 1950, but they paid fourteen billions for it."

And with that any hope of talking her out of putting those bikinis went out the window.