Football, soccer, its the same game just called something else. Either way I love it, and I think the Italies do to. Warning: Romano. He might not be as swear-y (yes its a word) as he is suppose to be, but I tried.
World Cup
The teams stood on either end of the field, waiting for whistle to blow. It was the final game of the 20XX World Cup. Germany vs. Italy.
Romano and Veneziano stood side by side prepared for the kick off. They where the captains for the Italian team. Their bright blue uniforms sported an Italian flag just above the heart. The back had their names in white across the shoulders. Veneziano's number was 08 and Romano's was 10. Veneziano's eyes where wide open.
Prussia and Germany where opposite the twins also ready. Their black uniforms showed the German flag. Their names where across the back as well. Germany's number was 02 and Prussia had an 01. They also filled the role of captains for the team, and to be completely honest, they didn't think they could win. The Italian team was simply to good.
Germany's ice blue eyes connected with Veneziano's golden amber ones. The smaller man smiled sweetly and mouthed 'Ready to lose?'.
Romano smirked. He knew what N. Italy had just done. His eyes matched his twins and forced Prussia's crimson eyes to look at his own. 'We are more awesome than you,' he mouthed.
The Prussian's eyes flared. The whistle sounded, and the twins started the attack.
... A little while before the game ...
"Veh~! Come on fratello! Play football with me!" Veneziano begged, grabbing onto Romano's arm.
"Ack! Watch it stupid!" he yelled, nearly dropping the basket of tomatoes he had just picked. "Why don't you go ask that stupid potato bastard to play?" Yes, he hated Germany but that didn't stop him from sending his brother to him when he was annoying.
"Alright!" he chirped, running off. He returned just as Romano finished washing the tomatoes and was preparing to slice some of them to make sauce.
"I thought you were playing football," he said, not really caring.
"Veh, I asked him and he threatened to gas me,"Veneziano sighed sadly.
Romano slammed his knife onto the counter. "That bastard!" he yelled, turning to look at his brother. 'How dare that spud-fucker not play with him! What an ass!' he thought angerly before continuing on. "Come on Feli, I'll play with you."
Veneziano brightened considerably. He grabbed the ball and they ran outside.
Feeling guilty for yelling at Veneziano, Germany made his way to the Italian's home. Hoping Romano wouldn't be the one to answer, he knocked. He knocked again when no one answered. Then he became aware of laughter from behind the house.
He peeked back to see what was happening. He saw Veneziano, red and sweaty from running, laughing and having fun. No surprise there but who was he playing with? Germany leaned farther. What he saw blew his mind to itty bitty pieces.
Romano, smiling and laughing in a very Veneziano way. 'What are they playing?' Germany wondered. His eyes alighted on the football. The color drained from his already pale face.
'I-I didn't know they where so good. But, this means...Veneziano has been losing to me on perpuse! He could easily pound me into the dirt! He isn't holding back against Romano at all,' Germany relised with a shock.
His pride wounded, he slunk away back to his home. Now, let it be said that Prussia was not as bad a brother as people thought him to be. He noticed Germany's slight depression. He was just bad at helping deal with it was all.
"West, what's up? You've been all sad and unawesome sense you got back."
"Do I suck at football?" Germany asked him suddenly.
Caught a little off guard, Prussia answered, "No. Why? Did someone say you did?"
"I just found out Feliciano could crush me into dust at football if he wanted to. He holds back against me though. A lot," Germany said dejectedly.
"Keseseseseses!" Prussia cackled. "Sorry bruder! Thats just to funny!" He wiped his tearing eyes, and a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Actually, I'm not to surprised," he said suddenly. "Spain said that every time he plays Romano, he gets his ass kicked to Kingdom Come and back. Twice if they play both halves. It's probably best to just not think about it. Italians are the fucking Gods of Football."
Germany blinked. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Before Prussia could deny this, Germany's phone rang. "Guten tag?" he said.
Prussia wandered into the kitchen to find seeds for Gilbird, leaving his brother allown.
"Veh~. Hi Luddy!" said a very familiar voice.
"Veneziano. Is there something you need?" he asked stiffly.
"I just wanted to talk about the World Cup! It's almost time! I'm so excited, veh! FIFA is always fun!" the Italian babbled.
A sudden thought struck him. He had never had a chance to actually see the Italies play a game. He never even had time to YouTube one. He mentioned this to Veneziano.
"Really? That's weird! Hey! Then you and Gilbert should come over and we should have a game! It would be sooooo much fun! Veh!" Veneziano chattered.
"Only on one condition."
"Okay~! What?"
"You have to actually try to win. I saw you playing Romano earlier. You are much better than you led me to believe."
Silence. Well, that was new. Was he alright?
"Feliciano?" Germany asked a little nervously.
"Sorry. Roma was just telling me how to split the teams. He said, 'Potato-head will not ruin your football by being on the same team as you. It is one of the only things we can do correctly. You play with his stupid potato brother. Not much of an improvement but better than none.' Except there was a lot more swearing," Veneziano said.
"Uh... okay. I'll tell Gilbert. This might be kind of fun. Danke Feli," Germany said.
"Okay Luddy! See you tomorrow! Arrivederci~!
"Tomorrow?" The phone beeped, signaling the other man had already hung up.
Prussia leaned against the doorway. "Football with the Vargas brothers tomorrow? Sounds interesting. Plus I get to have an uber-cutie like Feli on my team. Prepare to be majorly out-awesomed. This will be fun," he grinned.
"Of course bruder," Germany said, barely listening.
The next day, Germany and Prussia packed their kits and left for the brother's home. The German nations didn't know if the Italian where even awake yet, but decided to go because it was almost noon.
Germany knocked. Prussia put his ear to the door. "What are you...?" Germany began, but Prussia shhed him. He heard two voices speaking in rapid Italian. There was a thump. Someone had just fallen down the stairs. It was followed almost instantly with a cry of pain. Then footsteps raced towards the door.
Prussia had barley straighted up in time for Veneziano to open the door. He rubbed his left hip in pain before greeting them happily.
"Veh~! Your finally here! I've been waiting!" Germany noticed that Veneziano didn't even try to say Romano had also been waiting for them. Romano himself appeared beside his twin.
'Speak of the devil,' German thought. Romano glared at him.
"Finish that thought and you die."
Germany's mouth opened in shock. "How could you possibly have know what I was thinking?"
"Lucky guess."
"Veh~. Why aren't you to ready to play?" Veneziano asked suddenly.
Germany and Prussia took a second to register that both Italians where already geared up for the game. They where identical except for the color. Romano had on a pink (yes, pink cuz he can make it look manly and AWESOME) shirt and socks, while Veneziano had on a green shirt and socks. They did, however, both have on white shorts and black cleats.
"You not gonna play after all?" Romano demanded.
"No, no!" Germany said quickly. "We didn't know if you where up or not so we didn't change just in case!" The twins laughed and Prussia stared at Romano in shock. 'Didn't know he could do that!' the Prussian thought.
"Of course we're up! It's game day! We don't sleep much on game nights, veh~!" Venziano explained.
"So are you bastards gonna play or not?" Romano asked, annoyed.
"Ja, we'll play! BUT WE NEED TO PUT ON CLOTHES BEFORE WE GO OUT!" Prussia yelled suggestively as a woman and her two little children went past. She glared at the albino and rushed her kids away.
Veneziano puffed his cheeks in irritation. "Veh. That wasn't nice Gilbert."
Romano rolled his eyes and moved away from the door towards to kitchen. The remaining nations followed him. He turned and stared at them.
"Don't think for one minute your changing in the kitchen," he said before backing into the room.
Germany flushed slightly. "He's in a good mood," Prussia said sarcastically with a smile.
Veneziano nodded. "I know you where joking, but its true! He hasn't sworn as much as usual today. He's looking forward to the game to. Now go and change so we can play!"
The Germans found themselves hustled into a couple of rooms.
"They sure are excited aren't they?" Prussia asked with a laugh.
"All the same, let's not keep them waiting," Germany said.
The four nations entered the yard and Romano kept glancing around.
"Why are you so jumpy?" Prussia asked.
"Shut up. I'm looking for someone," Romano snapped.
"LOOOOOOVI~!" came an excited voice from behind them.
The poor Italian didn't even have a chance to brace himself before he was glomped by Spain. Romano's face went through a very nice display of red in multiple shades.
"Aww~! Your mi tomate Lovi!" the Spaniard cooed.
"Dude! Antonio! What's up? I haven't seen you sense that time we drank all the beer at that bar and sang shitty 70's songs! That was like, months ago!" Prussia said cheerfully.
Antonio smiled at him. "That was only last week Gil~!" he said happily.
"Damn it Spain, let go!" Romano demanded.
"OH! Sorry Roma!" He relised his captive.
"Is he who you were waiting for?" Prussia asked.
"One of them."
"Who else?"
"Um..." said a soft voice behind the Prussian. He turned and saw...America? Something about him seemed off.
"Damn. You look like America but I know you're not so who are you?"
"I'm-"
"Canada," Romano interrupted.
Canada looked surprised. "You remembered?"
"I just said your name idiota. Obviously I remembered. Where is he?"
"He 'll be here any minute," Canada said, shifting Kuma in his arms to check his watch.
"Who?" Germany asked curiously.
"Ah~. My little South Italy! You are finally ready to admit you're un-dieing love for me!" France randomly appeared directly in front of Romano with his rape face.
"CHIGIII!" Romano screeched before diving behind a laughing Spain.
"Veh~. Big brother France. I'm glad you came," Veneziano said smiling.
"I'm starting to regret this," Romano muttered.
"Yay~! Everyone is here now so we can start~!" Veneziano cheered.
They took positions. Spain and France would be the line guards and Canada was the referee. Germany hesitantly approached the irritated Italian.
Romano stared at him.
"I'm not going to fucking bite you. Get the fuck over here so we can fucking start the game already. Until this game is over I'm going to pretend I've just met you and you haven 't pissed me off yet potato head."
"Yeah~! You can't efficiently play with someone your angry with~!" North Italy pointed out.
"Alright already! Are we going to play or not?" Prussia asked exasperatedly.
Canada set them in their positions. Germany glanced at this teammate. Romano's concentration was obvious. He snuck a look at Veneziano and saw a carbon copy of the look on his face.
He nodded to Canada and the game began.
Germany was gasping for breath. It was half-time. They had just completed a 45 minute half. He felt a shadow cover him and he looked up to see Romano. Without a word he was handed a cool, damp towel and a bottle of water.
"Danke," Germany said, gratefully. Romano nodded and moved away. As he set the towel on his head, he couldn't help but notice that Veneziano had done the same for Prussia. Something seemed wrong and it took a minute for his tired brain to figure out what it was.
Neither of the Italies where breathing hard or even sweating much at all. They where completely normal. You couldn't tell they had just been running around like crazy after a ball for over the last 45 minutes.
He was slightly upset by this fact until he saw Prussia was the same as he was. Canada blew the whistle, signaling the re-start of the game.
For the last time, Canada let the whistle sound. The German nations collapsed, fighting for air and flushed from effort. Both where drenched with sweat.
The Italies had started to sweat and they where also breathing harder as well as being a little red.
The game had ended at a tie of 0-0. Romano had been about to shoot when the game ended. Germany watched them from where he was laying. Romano was actually smiling and laughing with his twin. It was a little strange.
Spain, unable to simply watch the cuteness anymore, ran over and wrapped him up in a hug, not caring that his captive was sticky with sweat.
Romano must have been in an unnaturally good mood because he didn't resist. He even went as far as to lean into the hug as he continued speaking with Veneziano in the animated Italian way.
Veneziano excused himself and left his brother and the Spaniard to made his way to Germany. Canada and Prussia where sitting together under a large tree, talking.
He plopped down next to Germany, pointed to his twin and said, "Veh~. That was a lot of fun! And look! Roma is letting himself be hugged!" He was bouncing with excitement.
"You know," he suddenly said as the other two went indoors to find a snack and air-conditioning. "If Canada hadn't stopped the play, your team would have won."
"What? But you where standing right there. You could have stopped it," Germany insisted.
Veneziano shook his head, smiling. "No, I couldn't. I would have tried really hard to but that ball was destined to go in, whether I was there or not. Football is our war, Germany. It's the only thing we can do with complete confidence, so we hold nothing back." he said seriously, a smile, if only slightly smaller, still plastered on his face.
"Venezinao..." Germany said, surprised.
"That is the deepest thing you have ever said," Prussia said, appearing out of no where next to them.
"Gah!" "EEEEEEKK!" Germany and Veneziano yelled.
"Sorry. I just came over to tell you that me and Birdie are going to go make pancakes."
"Birdie?" Germany asked.
"Little Matthew Williams!" Prussia crowed, pulling the shy nation towards him.
"Um, okay, veh," Veneziano said, wondering why he was being told this, completely forgetting the game was at his home.
Prussia wandered away with Canada trailing after him. Suddenly, a shreak came from the house.
"Roma!" Veneziano called, leaping up and sprinting towards the house, dragging Germany with him.
South Italy and Spain where staring at something on the television.
"What is it fratello?" North Italy asked. Romano was obviously excited about something. He was gripping the chair tightly to keep from bouncing around the room. He pointed at the screen urgently.
The two turned. It was FIFA. It was finally starting and now the brackets where up.
"It starts one month from today," Spain said.
Veneziano bent for closer inspection. "Let's see, let's see. Who do we play first," he muttered.
"Italy vs. Austria, Germany vs. Brazil, and Spain vs. Argentina," Romano said, managing to calm down slightly.
"Veh! Germany look! We're on opposite ends! You have to win you're half and play us in the finals! I would say something like that to you to Spain but we only have to win three games to play you!" Veneziano ranted, slightly red from saying it all without stopping for air.
'Well, this will be an interesting World Cup,' Germany thought, zoning out slightly.
"HEY MACHO POTATO! DON'T IGNORE MY FRATELLO!" Romano yelled.
"What did you say Feli?" Germany asked a little sheepishly.
"I said that to put it bluntly, you two really have no chance," Veneziano informed them, an unusually mean thing for him to do. "However, my fratello and I would be willing to help train you guys up. It would be a lot of fun!"
"why?" Germany asked.
"Because it would be boring if you went down easily. We're gonna make it so that doesn't happen," Romano said.
Prussia, Germany, Spain, France (who had yet to leave), and Canada glanced at each other before quickly agreeing. Hey, it's not everyday the Soccer Gods smiled, or in Romano's case smirked, at you.
Italy easily defeated Austria and Hungary. Spain put up a good fight but lost in the end. Germany trounced Brazil, Switzerland, and Poland. Gilbert and Matthew refused to play each other, but Ludwig got the win. Only ten teams, China, Russia, France, America, England Japan, Germany, Italy, Greece, and Finland, where left and they dwindled like so:
China knocked out France,
Russia removed Greece,
Finland was beaten by Italy,
America took out Japan,
and Germany got England.
Next, America received a bye,
Italy smashed Russia,
and Germany outed China.
This time, Germany received the bye,
and Italy destroyed America.
At last, it was the finals.
...GAME DAY...
The twins heard the whistle and where off. Veneziano gently tapped the ball and Romano burst forward, taking it up field.
Germany and Prussia instantly dropped back and shouted orders to cover their positions and to guard the sides for wing-runners.
Germany faced Romano, thinking back to the "Boot Camp" the brothers had set up for them. He recalled what Venezinao had told him. 'If you shy away at all, you'll lose it. Try for it no matter what. The worst that will happen is you get knocked on your ass. But you at least have a fighting chance if you stand your ground. Also try to have at least one more person behind you if you do use this. If you get burned then you have a chance to recover, veh.'
'Right,' Germany thought. He charged forward.
Romano set a foot on the top of the ball and spun to the left, keeping his back between the German and the ball. Veneziano rocketed past him on the right, keeping wide and back to receive a drop pass if it was needed.
The Italian defense advanced to the center line, forcing the German forwards back.
Another mid-fielder suddenly broke away, running as if to receive a pass, drawing his and Veneziano's guard away.
"Cover! Cover!" Prussia yelled, sprinting up to help himself.
To late. Romano dropped the ball back perfectly to Veneziano, who brought his leg back and slammed it into the ball. It shot straight over the keepers head into the back of the net.
The Italian side of the stadium exploded in cheers, waving their flag. The Italies where ecstatic. Romano ran to Veneziano and hugged him tightly, both yelling in joy with the rest of the team surrounding them with congratulations for the great play.
The referee motioned from everyone to get back into position. Germany and Prussia whispered a strategy and stepped away. The whistle blew and Prussia brought his leg back to bomb the ball. The Italies prepared for a counter and switched to mid-field. The Prussian's foot came forward, but sailed past the ball without touching it. His leg fell back and he hit the ball with his heel, sending the ball backwards.
The German nations sprinted forward. The German sweeper gained control and dribbled up. The Italian forwards attempted to steal the ball back. They missed and the ball was passed to Prussia.
Romano and Veneziano dropped back to defense. Veneziano went to block the Prussians shot, but was tricked by a fake left pass. Prussia passed right to Germany who took a shot.
The ball slammed into the keepers hands and bounced away. Prussia chased the rebound and tried again. It would have gone in if not for Romano diving in front of the ball, letting it ricochet off his body. It bounced to his brother who sent it flying up to the forwards.
Thus the first half continued until half-time. The Germans would have control and try a shot only to have either the keeper or one of the Italies block it, then the roles switched and Prussia, Germany, and the goalie kept the net clear.
The whistle sounded and the teams retired to their benches. The score was 1-0, Italy in the lead.
The Italian team was bright and cheerful, talking adamantly to each other while the Germans sat in silence. Germany and Prussia discussed strategies until half-time was over and the final play began.
Germany started with the ball this time.
'Who's more awesome now?' Prussia mouthed.
'Still us,' Romano responded with a smirk.
Veneziano looked sadly at Germany. 'Mad?' he asked.
'Nein,' Germany assured him.
They kicked off and an epic battle for control commenced. As the clock counted down, the Germans started to become irate. The tension was finally broken when the left German defense slammed his cleat into Romano's stomach just as he attempted a shot. As he went down he was punched in the face, just below his eye. Both sides screamed for the player to be removed from the game.
No one could remember that last time they had seen such an angry Veneziano. He screamed in fury and Germany was forced to hold onto him so he wouldn't attack the player. Just because he wasn't a strong nation didn't mean he wasn't still stronger than an average human. He would have most likely killed the man, at the very least hospitalized him.
Prussia sprinted over to the fallen Italian and helped him to his feet before he began yelling in angry German at the man. Not until after the player was red carded and removed from the field did Germany dare relise his prisoner and allow him to run to his brother.
"Fratello! Are you alright?" he cried.
Romano groaned and hugged his stomach. The skin under his eye had already darkened quite a bit.
Veneziano moved Romano's arms and lifted his shirt. Already his skin was turning dark blue and black, surrounded by red. There was a collective gasp from both the German and Italian spectators when a camera filmed a close up of the wound and broadcasted it onto the jumbo screen.
Veneziano gently reached out and brushed this fingers over his twins dis-colored skin. He quickly pulled back when Romano gasped in pain. Veneziano's eyes darkened.
"That bastard," he growled quietly, glaring in the direction the player had been escorted.
"Hey," the ref said. "Can you continue or are you done?"
Romano yanked his shirt back into place, fire dancing in his eyes.
"Si. That bastardo can't keep me down," he hissed threw gritted teeth. With the Italians still calling for blood, Prussia grabbed the ball and set up the penalty. Both Germans where mouthing apologizes.
"Can you take the shot fratello?" Venezinao asked worriedly.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Back off," Romano grumbled, his words unknowingly comforting his twin.
He took a breath, relised it slowly, and fired. It flew over the keepers head into the net.
The Italians cheered. Veneziano whooped and wrapped an arm around Romano's shoulders and cheered with him.
It was down to the finish now. Only 10 minutes remained. Not likely but still possible to catch up with the Italian team. Germany started with a pass to Prussia. When he tried to pass it back up, in was intercepted by Veneziano who was sprinting towards the German goal,
Romano close behind him.
When they reached the 18 yard line, in true Italian twin fashion, they face planted after tripping over nothing. As the German team converged on them, they stood together, North Italy on the right, South Italy on the left. At the same moment they brought back their feet and together, they scored the final goal of the World Cup. The whistle rang throughout the stadium.
The fan went berserk. Some where screaming, some crying, others laughing, and still others where doing all three at once.
The Italies screamed with their team as they where lifted onto other players shoulders and carried off the field in victory.
"We never had a chance," Prussia observed.
"They held back again. They really are good actors," Germany agreed.
The teams lined up and shook hands before the Italians could get to caught up in the celebrations. Prussia wandered off to find his Canadian sweet-heart.
After they received the Cup, Spain appeared. He excitedly told them that he had managed to score a front row seat of the stands. But that also meant he had had to restrain himself from leaping the boundary and pumiling that player. His expression grew slightly darker when he said this. Luckily, it seemed to remind him of the number one reason for coming to them now.
"I'm taking Lovi to the hospital. We'll be back in a little while," Spain said, smile plastered across his face. Romano was in to good of a mood to resist the Spaniard so he let himself be led away.
Veneziano went to stand beside Germany.
"Veh~! That was so much fun Luddy! Thanks for playing us," he said happily.
"Thanks for not demolishing us like you could have," Germany said, smiling affectionately at the Italian.
Veneziano looked shocked. "V-veh? B-but Luddy and Gil played really well!" he insisted.
"Ja, you just played better," Germany almost laughed.
"B-but we tried really hard..." Veneziano trailed off.
Germany hugged the sweaty man to his chest.
"It's okay Feli. You two are wonderful actors," he whispered into his hair. Venezinao bit his lip and hugged him back.
Prussia waltzed over, an embarrassed Canada being pulled after him. "So we lost 3-0. Oh big deal!" he said with a grin. His face morphed into one of curiosity "Hey, Feli. Where did Lovino go?"
"Spain came and took him to the hospital to made sure he was alright." His expression quickly changed to one of barely suppressed anger. "That fucking stupid German. If he has damaged mi fratello, he will have more to worry about that Spain. Like if he will see tomorrow," he muttered darkly.
Prussia looked super creeped out and nugged Canada slightly behind him protectively just in case. Germany put his hand on Veneziano's shoulder.
"I'm sure he's fine Feli," he said quickly. The look was banished instantly from his face, his sunny smile returning full force. Before anyone could comment however, the earlier mentioned Italian put an arm about his twins neck and scaring the living day lights out of him.
"I'm fine idiota. Come on. Like I'd let one of those fucking potato bastards ruin me," Romano assured him.
"Veh~! Yay~!" Veneziano glomped his brother's arm. "Let's go home and celebrate fratello!"
"Alright! Alright! Dio! Let go stupid!" Romano said with a light blush.
"Aww~! Lovi your so cute~! Just like a little tomato~!" Spain cooed, wrapping the Italian in a hug.
"Veh? Where are you three going?" Veneziano asked when Germany, Prussia, and Canada turned to leave.
"Home. Where else?" Prussia said.
"You could come to our house for the party," Romano mumbled.
"EH?" All the gathered nations yelled in shock.
"Che cosa?" Romano demanded.
"Fratello, are you sure you're okay?" Veneziano asked, looking at him with worry.
"Vaffanculo! I was just trying to be nice bastardos!" Relief washed over North Italy and Spain.
"Oh good. I thought you might have had a concussion, veh~!" Romano scowled.
"Idiot," he growled.
So the group went back to the Italies house. A lot of other nations showed up to congratulate them. After about 2 hours, the Bad Touch Trio was all entirely wasted. The night was complete when France tried to molest England only to be smack by a protective America, Prussia got Kumajirou's name correct, and Spain chased Romano around the house attempting to kiss him. He fell over after the 5th lap and decided to catch him tomorrow when the room had stopped swirling and the techno-colored bunnies stopped trying to nibble his fingers.
Crap endings are crap. Damn. You shall discover that I suck at endings. I have no idea what happens to people when they are drunk so I guessed randomly. At least thing is better than what I had at first. I've been watching a lot of World Cup YouTube videos lately. My rooting list for the World Cup is in this order: America, Italy, Spain, England, and Germany. Not that you care or anything... *sigh*