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Jul. 20th, 2011 12:06 am
[Fic] Summer Camp - Day 19
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fivedayslaterI actually feel really bad. I wanted to do a drabble for every game during the World Cup like I did last year, but unfortunately I didn't get to watch any of the games, because I started summer work in June this year as opposed to July like last year. I'm a horrible soccer fan...
Title: Sweet Defeat
Characters/Pairings: Fem!USUK, mentions of Fem!Japan, America, Fem!France, and Fem!Sweden.
Rating/Warnings: PG, genderbending, and the idea that nyotalia characters exist in the same universe as the regular ones.
Summary: Winning is winning, and losing kind of sucks, but with England's help, maybe America will realize winning isn't everything.
The whistle blew, ending all of America’s hopes and dreams along with it.
Penalty kicks, she fumed, it had come down to penalty kicks. She had done so well in the first half, was at the top of her game, but it all just fell apart in the next half. Maybe she just got too cocky, like France warned her would happen, maybe she just let far too many opportunities pass her by, maybe Japan spiked her drinks, who knew. All she does know is that she didn’t win; she lost, because of penalty kicks and Japan’s stupid goalie.
But even in defeat, America is a hero. She put on her best smile, congratulated Japan on a spectacular performance, even went so far to give her a hug – and let the record show her brother had yet to hug the opponent he lost to, hell he’s never even gotten this far, so he can just shove it – before her friend, tears streaming down her face, got swept up in the crowd of players and fans and well wishers. When America was quite positive all of the attention was on Japan, she let her smile fall and slunk back into the changing rooms.
America waited in the corner, moody, refusing to so much as look at anyone who approached her, until the team, players, coaches, and assistants alike, had left her alone to brood in peace, or in an angry fit, if that was what she’d rather do, which, as it turned out, it was.
They players had taken all their stuff with them, so America had to contend with chucking whatever else she could find, mostly spare equipment, balls, medical supplies, and trash, around the room. When she ran out of tossable items, she latched onto a nearby bench and attempted to pry it out of the floor. She was about halfway there when a voice interrupted her.
“Oh yes, trashing the locker room. That’s real mature and original. Well done.”
America whipped around and found herself face to face with none other than, “E-England?”
England crossed her arms, “Yes, who else were you expecting, France? She’s too busy congratulation Japan on beating you to offer you any comfort.”
“Is that why you’re here?” America glanced around the trashed locker room, “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need your comfort.”
England looked around the room as well, “Clearly.”
“Yeah, well,” America rolled her eyes and turned her back to the other, “We both know comforting people isn’t you’re strong suit so-”
“I’m trying to be more open, especially towards you,” she could her England tapping her foot on the tiled floor, “ever since we starting, you know, dating officially, and all that.”
“Thanks, but again, no thanks,” America started tossing her things, at least the ones that weren’t on the other side of the room, or in the vents, or wherever she threw them before, into her bag, “I don’t need comforting.”
“America-”
“It’s not like I care that I lost or anything,” her vision was starting to get blurry, and she was pretty sure her left cleat was on top of a locker on the other side of the room, “It’s just soccer, it’s not like it matters. It’s a stupid sport-”
“America,” the voice came from right beside her ear as she felt arms wrap around her, “you’re crying.”
“I am not,” she sniffled and tried to wipe her tears away; “I just got dust in my eye is all.”
The arms tightened their hold, and she felt more than she heard England say, “It’s okay to care. Isn’t that what you told me? I’m not going to think any less of you. How can I after you’ve done so well?”
America pouted, but couldn’t help leaning into her lover’s hold, “I lost. In the end it doesn’t matter. You beat Japan, but I couldn’t even-”
“And you beat France,” her hold tightened so that it was almost painful, “That was something I didn’t do.”
“Yeah, well, so did Sweden, in the end there.”
“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” she could feel England’s smirk through her sweat stained jersey but quickly sobered up, “And so what if she did? You still have more titles than any of us. So what if you lost to Japan this go around? You’ll just come back even better next time. You always do.”
America succeeded in wiping her eyes on her jersey and turned in England’s hold to give her a proper hug, “Thanks England.”
“No problem dear,” she relaxed into her embrace, “Now what do you say we go back to the hotel, get pissed, and watch whatever low budget comedy they have on the telly?”
America grinned and hugged her girlfriend all the tighter, “Sounds like a plan.”
Title: Sweet Defeat
Characters/Pairings: Fem!USUK, mentions of Fem!Japan, America, Fem!France, and Fem!Sweden.
Rating/Warnings: PG, genderbending, and the idea that nyotalia characters exist in the same universe as the regular ones.
Summary: Winning is winning, and losing kind of sucks, but with England's help, maybe America will realize winning isn't everything.
The whistle blew, ending all of America’s hopes and dreams along with it.
Penalty kicks, she fumed, it had come down to penalty kicks. She had done so well in the first half, was at the top of her game, but it all just fell apart in the next half. Maybe she just got too cocky, like France warned her would happen, maybe she just let far too many opportunities pass her by, maybe Japan spiked her drinks, who knew. All she does know is that she didn’t win; she lost, because of penalty kicks and Japan’s stupid goalie.
But even in defeat, America is a hero. She put on her best smile, congratulated Japan on a spectacular performance, even went so far to give her a hug – and let the record show her brother had yet to hug the opponent he lost to, hell he’s never even gotten this far, so he can just shove it – before her friend, tears streaming down her face, got swept up in the crowd of players and fans and well wishers. When America was quite positive all of the attention was on Japan, she let her smile fall and slunk back into the changing rooms.
America waited in the corner, moody, refusing to so much as look at anyone who approached her, until the team, players, coaches, and assistants alike, had left her alone to brood in peace, or in an angry fit, if that was what she’d rather do, which, as it turned out, it was.
They players had taken all their stuff with them, so America had to contend with chucking whatever else she could find, mostly spare equipment, balls, medical supplies, and trash, around the room. When she ran out of tossable items, she latched onto a nearby bench and attempted to pry it out of the floor. She was about halfway there when a voice interrupted her.
“Oh yes, trashing the locker room. That’s real mature and original. Well done.”
America whipped around and found herself face to face with none other than, “E-England?”
England crossed her arms, “Yes, who else were you expecting, France? She’s too busy congratulation Japan on beating you to offer you any comfort.”
“Is that why you’re here?” America glanced around the trashed locker room, “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need your comfort.”
England looked around the room as well, “Clearly.”
“Yeah, well,” America rolled her eyes and turned her back to the other, “We both know comforting people isn’t you’re strong suit so-”
“I’m trying to be more open, especially towards you,” she could her England tapping her foot on the tiled floor, “ever since we starting, you know, dating officially, and all that.”
“Thanks, but again, no thanks,” America started tossing her things, at least the ones that weren’t on the other side of the room, or in the vents, or wherever she threw them before, into her bag, “I don’t need comforting.”
“America-”
“It’s not like I care that I lost or anything,” her vision was starting to get blurry, and she was pretty sure her left cleat was on top of a locker on the other side of the room, “It’s just soccer, it’s not like it matters. It’s a stupid sport-”
“America,” the voice came from right beside her ear as she felt arms wrap around her, “you’re crying.”
“I am not,” she sniffled and tried to wipe her tears away; “I just got dust in my eye is all.”
The arms tightened their hold, and she felt more than she heard England say, “It’s okay to care. Isn’t that what you told me? I’m not going to think any less of you. How can I after you’ve done so well?”
America pouted, but couldn’t help leaning into her lover’s hold, “I lost. In the end it doesn’t matter. You beat Japan, but I couldn’t even-”
“And you beat France,” her hold tightened so that it was almost painful, “That was something I didn’t do.”
“Yeah, well, so did Sweden, in the end there.”
“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” she could feel England’s smirk through her sweat stained jersey but quickly sobered up, “And so what if she did? You still have more titles than any of us. So what if you lost to Japan this go around? You’ll just come back even better next time. You always do.”
America succeeded in wiping her eyes on her jersey and turned in England’s hold to give her a proper hug, “Thanks England.”
“No problem dear,” she relaxed into her embrace, “Now what do you say we go back to the hotel, get pissed, and watch whatever low budget comedy they have on the telly?”
America grinned and hugged her girlfriend all the tighter, “Sounds like a plan.”
no subject
Cute ficlet. Nice to see moody!America and comforting!England together.
no subject