Spain vs Italy

The crowd roared to life, as the ending whistle sounded. Spain whirled around being tackled to the ground by his happy teammates. He had made history, and he was the reigning champion again. The only team to win Euro Cup three consecutive times… what a title. The roaring in his ear and the cheering brought him out of his thoughts, as he was pulled into a group circle. Smiling his lopsided grin, he glanced around seeing the Italian team scatter off the field as a bright red and gold crowd celebrated in the background. His smile widened as a familiar curl approached him.

Romano was frowning but his face was flushed with energy. Sweat glistened on his forehead and a towel draped over his shoulders. Spain pulled away from his joyful teammates to embrace the unhappy man in a hug. His breath came short as he panted, "Good Job Roma, you and Feli played well." He smiled as he pulled away, "Now where's my kiss?" At the question Romano flushed a darker shade of red," F**k you, do you know that? " he stated as he grabbed the front of Spain's jersey. Their lips met as the crowd cheered at the sudden show of affection. Ignoring the crowd and the hoots and jeers from both teams, Romano deepened the kiss, his arms moved behind Spain's neck. Spain for his part leaned into the kiss, his hand slowly running through Romano's damp hair. Their tongues wrestled for dominance, their bodies starting to heat up as the kiss became more heated. Spain was the one to pull away, the only reminisce of the kiss, a thread of saliva connecting the two red lips. Panting, their foreheads touched as they looked into each other's eyes. Green reflecting joyous celebration; Hazel reflecting his people's regretful loss. The moment was broken as a cry pulled them out to reality. Feliciano came bounding down the field toward them. And Romano quickly shoved Spain away, turning around to yell at his brother. Spain sighed happily as he was swamped by his teammates, most comments about the cute Italian and why he didn't say he was dating the rival. Laughing loudly, Spain took a moment to ruffle Silva's hair, who had draped an arm around him. "Good job on the first goal.~" The two Spaniards took a second to grin happily at each other, before bound up the steps to grab their well-deserved trophy.

Romano could only look up at the ecstatic Spain, a few regretful tears glistening in his eyes, as he softly whispered," Good job,idiota." Before the tears could fall, however, he was tackled by his younger brother who looked as happy as he did at the beginning of the game. "Why are you so happy, stupido!" Feli responded, his grin widening," Cause we got so far, fratello. We should be proud of ourselves too.~We're still second place,si?" Romano couldn't help but smile back," Si, we did alright," he uncharacteristically hugged his brother back as he smirked," Besides, we can always beat him next time." Looking back up toward the celebrating team, Romano laughed as the noisemakers went off. He wanted to capture Spain at that moment smiling, with flashes of silver filling the scene.