Dislaimer: Don't own Hetalia or the World Cup!
England 1-1 America
England stood next to Fabio Capello grinning expectantly as the America, lined up to take a shot at the goal. There was no way that the American would score, that England was certain of since, as every Englishman knew, Americans were worse at football than they were…
Horror struck England and Capello's faces as the English goalkeeper fumbled the ball, landing the American's a drawing goal…
Aforementioned Country woke with a start. His body was covered in a cold sweat and the images from his nightmare still fluttered through his head. Yes, nightmare, it was just a dream… there was no way that England would lose to America EVER. At that same moment, his phone started to vibrate and he picked it up nonchalantly, his thoughts too preoccupied with his dream to notice the caller ID.
"HEY ENGLAND~!" the voice on the other end of the line chirped far too enthusiastically for so early in the morning, "How are you feeling today? Upset with our draw haha?"
"Draw? What are you talking about America?"
"Well I suppose, technically it's a draw but really you lost since everyone had already pinned you as the winner!" America continued ignoring England, "Soo~ I thought I'd call and remind you how BAD YOU ARE AT FOOTBALL! HAHAHAHA!"
England dropped the phone, America's crazed laughter still audible on the other end, and gulped. His eyes darted around the room, looking for a solution when one reached him. He switched off his phone assuming it would take the hysterical Country on the other end a minute to realise that he had been cut off, and threw himself back onto the bed, pillow hiding his head.
There was no way he was going to face anyone today.
