It was Germany's turn to fall asleep on the couch that night, looking exhausted and worn out of the day's events. A few meandering hairs dipped over his face, not quite covering the dark circles under his eyes, and the black frames he wore when he read were barely balanced on his nose.

Italy smiled softly at him, carefully removing the glasses from his face and placing them delicately on the polished wooden coffee table. He also took the liberty of prying his fingers off the book he held in his lap, and placing it accordingly next to his lenses with the utmost care. There was only one lamp on in the room, that cast a warm yellow colour throughout the room as well as a glitter in the Italian's honey eyes. He couldn't help but admire the strong outline of the larger nation under the dim light; the shadows traced every contour, every line of every muscle of every tone; he was such a tough and sturdy character, and beautiful, too.

"Oh, did he fall asleep, now?" asked a soft, gentle voice behind him, and Italy jumped.

"Ah! England! Yes," he breathed, having been startled, and turned with a smile to the Brit. "I don't know how long ago, though, ve~"

"I didn't mean to alarm you," Britain apologised. America was with him too, and nodded in agreement. "We just came up from downstairs. Anyway...How is he?" he blinked and tilted his head slightly.

It sort of touched Italy, in a sense, that recently everyone in general began caring and becoming considerate about everyone else, and as an instinct, he hopped forward and embraced Britain with a happy giggle. "Ve, he's just tired, he has a hard game tomorrow~" he answered, the moment becoming even sweeter when England didn't hesitate to hug him back, smiling to him. "He told me he's ready for anything the Cup has to throw at him now, and he has us to cheer him on. He didn't expect so much support, but...You know how he is."

The Englishman chuckled. "Oh yes. He is a very modest person; I think that's what makes him such a good man." he commented, casting a quick grin and wave at a very excited but sleepy Argentina, who had stepped out of the bathroom and headed to his bed. Only eight nations remained in the game so far, and he and Germany were just two of them.

"Yo, Argie, good luck against Belgium tomorrow, yeah?" America spoke up rather tiredly, accented by a hand coming up to rub his eye. "That's gonna be a rough game." his face glowed a little in embarrassment since, you know, he kind of lost to the European nation that same day.

"Oh, gracias, America," Argentina's eyes brightened as if he were noticed for the first time and he nodded graciously towards the group with a nervous grin. "I will do my best to advance!" he nodded with determination to his northerner friend. Now, it may not have seemed that way with their governments, but America generally got along with all the South American countries as a person; they were very kind towards him and he in turn tried to be as courteous as possible. "I will do my best for you, mister America!"

At that, the second-largest country on the continent promptly collapsed on his bed and soon was sleeping. America made a mental note to commend Spain for raising this particular colony in such a chivalrous manner.

England smiled over at him as he released Italy, his eyes shining with reverence. "America, you should rest up for tomorrow; you're not going to want to wake up in the morning." he told him a little sternly, and a little amusedly.

"Says you," America mumbled wearily, but obediently took a step towards the bed he was sleeping on. "Wait...Do y'all want m' help or…?" he turned back towards Italy with half lidded eyes, his glasses shifted awkwardly over his face. When he was met with two confused looks, he clarified. "I mean, I'll help ya get German-dude t' bed…" he gestured vaguely towards Germany.

Italy looked at his beloved German, then the bed, then back at America. "I, um, yea...Yea actually…" he said thoughtfully.

O~o~O

"Ahonhonhon~! There is l'Allemagne~!"

"Ah, si! I didn't even see him!"

Germany blinked and stopped just outside of the stadium at hearing his name(In French) and turned slowly, making Italy do the same since he was clinging happily to his arm. He frowned slightly as two familiar Europeans approached, and nodded in greeting.

"Guten morgen, Spain and France." he said. "Do you need something?" he looked respectively at the two, but was confused at their appearance; he would have expected France to be on the other side of the stadium and Spain with Romano, who according to Italy, was already down on the field. There could only be one reason for them to be together here with him.

"Ugh, Frog what are you bloody doing here?" England asked angrily, but he was currently being twirled around in a certain American's embrace so he couldn't really glare at him. "A-America, y-you're making me dizzy-!"

Germany glanced at the pair next to him with a wry smile, but then turned his attention back to the flamboyant Frenchman and the smiling Spaniard. France flourished a rose. "Aha, mon ami, I only came to wish you good luck, of course! Why else would I come to you?" he chuckled and winked, shaking his head slightly to make his hair flip.

"Si, we all know it's going to be a very good game," Spain teased, and crossed his arms with a nod in agreement. The way he said it implied he knew who the winner was going to be, and Germany was determined to prove him wrong.

"There is only one reason you two are here…" he mumbled, sharing a glance with Italy, who grinned because he knew too.

"KESESESESESESESESESE~!"

Yep. There it is.

A wild Prussia appeared. "Kesesesese! The awesome me has arrived!" declared the loudest voice in the hall, and immediately everyone in the vicinity went quiet and glanced over with an odd look.

Germany groaned inwardly and Italy patted his back.

"Aha! There is my little brother! I've been looking everywhere for you, West!" Prussia cackled haughtily, planting his hands on his hips as he slapped Germany on the back with a wide grin. His cocky and arrogant red eyes narrowed as he laughed, and he marched in between France and Spain. "I'm looking forward to a great match today, yea? You better not disappoint me, little brother. But I won't be by your almost-awesome side today, so I cannot guarantee your victory. So it's more likely you'll lose! Kesesesese!" he laughed loudly and casually draped his arms around his friends' shoulders.

"I would not bet on that, mein bruder." Germany growled, looking at his brother with a menacingly scary face and held his brother's stare for a moment before abruptly turning heel. "Do not flatter yourself. I've got my eye on you." he said over his shoulder before marching off, and America followed behind him, making 'what' sign with his arms. "Water Tribe," he whispered, and then turned to continue after the others.

"Ooh, Germany~" he teased as he followed suite with England in tow. "Such feisty, very wow!" he laughed at himself and kept up pace with Germany, since he planned on doing just that for the remainder of the World Cup.

"Ve~ I think Germany is going to win~ Don't you?" Italy asked randomly, jumping on Germany's back and grinning at both Britain and America.

"If I lose now I don't know what I'd do with myself." Germany growled, marching onwards darkly.

"~*~O~o~O~*~"

"I cannot believe it, I am nervous about this game, why am I nervous about this game?" Germany smacked his head a couple of times, trying to knock some sense into himself; his stomach was just churning like if he moved he'd be sick, and his heart wouldn't stop pounding. He felt slightly faint and was afraid to move at all on their car ride to the stadium.

At least Italy was sitting next to him, giggling the entire time. It was a little weird, but just him being him was comforting. England was smiling at the Italian and trying not to laugh from the seat across from them(Yes it was one of those fancy limousines and no, I don't know why there is one in Brazil), with America snoring quietly on his shoulder. Those two were the ones who'd been with him all along. So far Germany hadn't expected so many people to be supportive of him. Hateful, definitely, but...not on his side.

He certainly hadn't expected himself to be so determined to win, not because of competitive instinct, but because he was inclined to win it for his friends. This was his way to make up for them being eliminated.

"It's alright, Germany," England said pleasantly, seeming in a good mood but gazing at him with sympathy, nevertheless. He was probably happy, mostly because of America dozing away on his shoulder and just everything that had happened to him recently, besides being eliminated. Germany had a newfound higher respect for the English nation, being so himself despite the circumstances. "You're going to do great, I just know it." he smiled warmly.

"Ve ve, yea~!" Italy agreed eagerly, leaning into Germany happily for a hug. "You've done so well so far! It would take a lot to beat you!" he laughed as if it were impossible and rested his head on the German's shoulder with a bright grin. "Ve...I can't wait to see you win~"

Germany took a deep breath. He was nervous because nearly everyone in the stadium was going to be against he and his team, and he was afraid of both winning and losing. Be hated and loved, or be loved and hated?

He took a deep breath as the car slowed to a halt, and braced himself as if he were about to get up but accidentally touched Italy's knee. Germany looked over to apologise, then creased his brows slightly as he caught Britain's eyes. The man didn't know how to wake America up, nor did he want to, from the look on his face. It was rather funny, and neither Germany or Italy could hide a slight smile of amusement.

"Er…" The Brit said awkwardly, looking to them for help while carefully prodding the American. "A-Alfre-"

"Oi, you're here, amigos, if you're leaving then leave!" announced the loud Brasilian driver, shoving back the door that separated the view from the back seats and in the process making the handle smack into sleeping America's head.

"Oh! Oh…" England immediately took America's face with his hands as he flinched awake with a slight moan of pain, and he gently pulled him closer. "O-oh, Alfred, I'm sorry…" he seemed to be the one who got hurt as he brushed a few locks of blonde hair aside to wince at where he got hit. "That looks like it hurt, love…"

The Brasilian didn't look sure whether to start laughing or offer his sympathy, and let out a soft "Pfft" to hide his unsure laughter. Italy blinked in slightly shock at what happened, but seemed happy with the outcome. Germany was blushing a little bit at what he was witnessing, but didn't let it bother him, since it was probably going to be happening more often. And it was rather touching. America didn't seem to mind his head being held towards England's chest at all, or it could just be he was too tired to care.

"Ve~ Well, at least it woke him up?" Italy offered optimistically as Britain shot a glare towards their driver.

O~o~O

"Oh no…" Germany muttered as he ducked his head once again from jeering fans on the opposing side. "W-we should hurry to the field…" he sighed, slightly in embarrassment since he didn't want to admit he didn't like coming across various other people.

"G-Germany…" Italy said softly, pouting and bumping his head repeatedly on his arm. "There's nothing to worry about, just ignore them~" He grinned cutely and looked up at the taller man. "Don't worry about the others, just focus on the game tonight, m'kay?" he told him with the utmost sincere seriousness.

"U-uh...Ja…" he replied with a little confusion, and jumped when there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder. He looked at it in alarm and turned, but calmed down when he realised it was just Britain.

"Calm down there, old chap," he chuckled with a small smile. As well as that, he was having to drag a weary America along as they went, nearing the entrance to the field. "It's not going to hurt anyone if you win or lose. Don't be so pressured and stressed; it won't do you any good," he advised like a parent lecturing his child.

"Ja. If I lose I only lose all my dignity and any chance of a European winning the cup should Netherlands lose as well. If I win I break the hearts and will of nearly everyone in the nation. It's completely fine." Germany mumbled sarcastically, taking up a more brisk pace out of annoyance.

The Brit sighed at his resolute pessimism. "You're not going to get anywhere if you're going to be like that. This is competition and something you have to take charge of." he reminded the German. "You are going to be amazing today. You have a terribly great chance to win. Just don't let everyone else make you think otherwise."

Germany took a sharp breath. "If you say so." he murmured, his eyebrows twitching as they passed another group of Brasilians. It was a little weird that more people from other countries recognised him than his own people, and also upsetting. It felt like the only people who were going to be friendly towards him were the ones walking with him right then.

"H-hey! Hey Germany!" shouted a voice.

Everyone turned in confusion, since it didn't sound immediately familiar. But America recognised him, and then everyone else. Germany hadn't seen him but the few times in the room or in meetings. "Oh...Guten tag, Argentina." he greeted uncertainly. "Er...Do you need someth-"

"Oh no, I just wanted to wish you good luck, mister Germany!" the South American country said cheerfully, grinning broadly up at the taller nation. "You'll have a tough match, I hope you do well!"

"Uh...Danke, Argentina. I believe you also have a hard game as well. Good luck to you too." he replied politely, bowing slightly out of habit. He was wondering why the country would go out of his way to find him, since the other looked red-cheeked and somewhat out of breath, like he'd been running. It was just a game, but then again it was a big deal because he and Germany were just two of four who remained.

"Gracias, Mister Germany! See you later!" and with that, the Argentine was off.

With a moment of hesitation, which forced everyone else to stop beside him, Germany looked grimly towards the arch. He huffed a little at it, then took a small step towards it. "Now or never," he said lowly.

"Yea." Everyone else agreed.

"~*~O~o~O~*~"

"Dude, this is it, bro," America said with a soft laugh, in disbelief.

"Indeed…" England breathed, looking up at the roaring stadium with a shocked smile.

"Ve yea~! You made it!" Italy giggled happily.

Germany was staring with utter bewilderment at the field as he reluctantly stepped through the arch, hardly hearing his friend's words. It just wouldn't register in his mind, that he'd made it this far. It was unthinkable, unbelievable that he had another chance to win the World Cup.

Although there were more Argentine fans, the spectators still erupted in cheers when the German and his team appeared, and it was a glorious moment that Germany embraced gladly. This was his game, and he was going to play his hardest. With a small smile, he led his friends to their usual spot, where they met with others.

"Honhonhon~Salut, we're here to see you~" France greeted with an apologetic grin, as well as the others in the Bad Touch Trio.

"Hai, the game is afoot," Japan offered a rare soft smile, and the rest of the Allies and various other nations nodded with agreement.

"Ball!" Italy said randomly, grinning widely.

"What?" Japan gave him an odd look.

"The game is-a football~!" He clarified, giggling, and everyone else laughed as well.

O~o~O

"Come on, let's go, let's go!" Germany yelled, urging his team to make a move before half-time. "Make something happen, ja? You still have it in you!"

The other nations shouted various encouragements as well, while the rest of the stadium either rang with disapproval or resounded with indifference. Germany did his best to tune the crowd out, since they wouldn't be much help, and tried to think of what it would be like in Berlin right then.

So far nothing had happened; he was worried about that, he felt more comfortable when there was scoring earlier on it the game. The suspense and anxiety only put him on edge, but he was determined to keep his head. It was the only thing he could do, if he were to have a chance at winning. It would be just amazing if he could win again.

He scoffed in slight irritation as the half-time whistle blew and crossed his arms. "Come on Italy," he waved his friend over and started jogging over to where his team was gathering. He assumed Italy would understand he did need someone with him, if not just for support.

"Ve~! Okay!" Italy ran after him, and cast a quick "Be right back, guys~!" over his shoulder. He grinned excitedly as he followed the taller nation towards where the others from his country were and he bounded along with a small spring in his step. "This game is great so far, I can't wait to see you win~!"

"I wouldn't be so at ease…" Germany mumbled, but accepted it the gesture anyway when Italy reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Hey, hey, alright, let's get it together, ja?" he announced his presence as he approached, and the team greeted him with weary grins and allowed him into the center of the group. Italy got squished in between two of the German players embracing before he could join the taller nation, but even then he was small enough to almost not be regarded at all. "You are all playing well; I can see it in your faces. But you have to give us a little more than what I'm seeing now. To win this, we have to work together and trust yourself, as well as everyone else. Don't think too hard, but at the same time keep your head in the game. You are able to win this, but I need to see just what you can do. Give me all you have, ja?!" he demanded, and the Germans all shouted in approval.

"Ve~! You guys are just the best! But you can be better than the best because you are the elite, right? You don't have to show just us, or the Argentines, you have to show yourselves and the world too! Show all of us how great you really are!" Italy chimed in, hopping up and down to get their attention, and it worked. The Germans shouted even louder in agreement, and it sounded like an entire army was ready to break loose.

"Let's win this!" Germany concluded, and in good time as well; half-time was almost out.

With a roar that could challenge the crowd itself, the Germans jogged back out to the field with the determination of animals, with the two nations following close behind. Germany smiled gratefully down at Italy, and the Italian grinned back.

O~o~O

"YEEEEES!" the group of nations screamed simultaneously everyone standing up and donning a disbelieving smile. After full-time and extra-half time, it had been going back and forth and looking grim because Argentina had already proved to be a force to be reckoned with, especially during penalties. But now it seemed Germany could win, he could actually win!

"AHAHA, YES I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!" Germany screamed towards his team, who were too busy celebrating to hear him, jumping on each other and hugging and jumping up and down and basically just basking in the glory. "THIS IS WHY WE ARE THE BEST, GOOD JOB, GOOD JOB!"

Italy squealed excitedly and England couldn't resist shouting out loud as well, when America smothered him in a hug out of sheer happiness. The other Axis and Allies and nations seemed to do the same, and Germany was soon being hugged on all sides. It was just an amazing moment, to realise the game was now playing in his hands. He was determined to hang onto it until the last minute.

And that was exactly was he did; Argentina was unable to come back, and the game ended one-to-naught for Germany, and the World Cup was his.

People were in tears, people were crying, nations were wailing in happiness, and Germany was about to burst with immeasurable thrill and exhilaration. He won. He won.

"Germany!" shouted that voice again, and without even thinking, Germany turned and pulled Argentina into an embrace. "Good game, Argentina," he murmured, hugging him tightly. "You played well."

"Y-you too, Mister Germany, congratulations," Argentina replied graciously, and offered a watery smile before going back to his team. Italy appeared after that.

"Ve~ Germany, you did great!" he said sweetly. "That was just so amazing!"

Germany didn't hesitate to press his lips to Italy's. "It won't be forgotten anytime soon," he smiled and embraced the Italian tightly. "Thank you. All of you."

YEEESSS :DDD So that concludes the story~! Thank you for reading! I was so happy Germany won, I was actually at my neighbor's house watching it, and he was going for Argie XP It turned into a tickle fight and I totally destroyed him :D For those who went for any opposing side in this story, thank you :3 I wasn't strictly going for all of my own home teams, I still felt for those who lost. Everyone did amazing, Brazil, and Belgium, and France and Mexico and Chile and...You know XD I feel like Argentina's character is similar to Messi :D Poor guy, he was so sad, but second place is still pretty good! :3 This was a truly amazing cup and I can't wait to see how everyone does come next four years! All I can do is at least hope this story made you laugh, or at least happy :) Because this is the first multi-chapter story I have ever completed :D I love you all, and right now I am going to go outside and bask in the sunlight because it's cold in here and it's all I really want to do XP Good day, good afternoon, good night, and thank you~!

~Fezzes64, signing off :D