acatwhowrites: (fanfic writer)
A Cat Who Writes ([personal profile] acatwhowrites) wrote2010-09-11 07:24 pm

[Fanfic] Emotional Turmoil

Title: Emotional Turmoil
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: sports, general, comfort
Rating: PG
Warning(s): poor attempt at an English accent, name-calling, unpolished writing
Axis Powers Hetalia and its characters belong to Hidekazu Himaruya. Ghana/Kwame John Kofi is an original fan character.

These are itty-bitty one shots for the defeats of America and England in the 2010 World Cup.

I think America's pretty simple. He wants to win, and he wants to be on top. If it doesn't happen right away where he can see it, then it doesn't count to him.
But getting another chance and having something to look forward to keeps him on his feet, training in this case. To me, that keeps America moving, knowing there's always a chance to do something again or make it better.

With England as a character, he's a pretty complicated guy because of his age. All that experience would affect him somehow, so I translate him as a person who feels he deserves things. All that royalty business and whatnot, so he's a hot/cold character, to me. He can console America, but he'll just stay PO'd until he gets good and drunk and forgets it all...

[American defeat]
The final whistle blew, and the Ghanaian team ran together, thumping backs and yelling victoriously before sprinting to the track and cheering at their fans. The Americans' heads fell and shook in disappointment and frustration as they dragged their feet off the field.

Alfred dropped to his knees and stared at the night sky. Team USA had tied the first ninety minutes with a penalty kick by Donovan. They kept their scores even until the end; then they began a thirty minute game. The Ghanaians scored fast-again-and took up as much time as they could to prevent the Americans from gaining possession of the ball.

"So now it's over…" The blonde leaned forward, resting on his elbows and hanging his head. "I finally made it but have to go home so soon." He could hear the ecstatic celebrations of the Ghanaian fans; he had the whole of Africa behind him as the last African nation in the World Cup. There was a near still silence as the American fans left the stadium.

"'ey." Someone touched Alfred's back. He looked over his arm at a pair of legs in tan dress pants. Arthur crouched and rubbed his back. "C'mon; get changed." Alfred sighed and sat hunched over for a few more seconds before sitting back on his heels and rubbing his face. Arthur pitied him, but he knew how well he had played. In football—American soccer—Alfred had always been the underdog. He had shocked the world at his resilience and fighting ability.

It was far from over.

Alfred took the offered hand and stood. "Y' gonna stick around?" Arthur asked as they made their way off the field.

"You play against Ludwig, right? I'll see my teammates off at the airport, but I'll come back for you." He still looked depressed; his normally smiling face was downcast and frowning. Arthur slapped him on the shoulder, pulling him aside just outside the locker room.

"Al, the game is over. Y' lost against Ghana in the second 'alf hour. That's incredible. Y' played so bliddy well and proved y're a force to be reckoned with—even in a sport y don't like much!" He hugged the younger man around the neck, saying into his ear "I'm so proud o you."

The American pushed Arthur away, but he finally had the usual sparkle back in his blue eyes. "Just wait until Brazil, Arthur. I'll do even better!" He shoved the locker door open and greeted his team mates.

Arthur smiled to himself. "See you in 2014."



[English defeat]
Arthur was pissed.

Ludwig ran off the field with his teammates, shouting and jumping in their 4-1 victory over England. The redshirts sluggishly congratulated them and walked down the tunnel to the locker room. Arthur pulled his sweaty jersey over his head and dragged it roughly over his head and across his face. Gathering his water bottle and FIFA jacket from the sidelines, the Englishman saw Alfred in the stands. The American waved when he saw he was noticed, and Arthur jogged over.

"That sucked." Alfred declared flatly. He appeared to recovered from his own defeat. Supporting his favourite sponsors, he had a McDonald's hamburger in one hand and a Coca-Cola Icee in the other.

"I realize tha', Alfred," Arthur spat bitterly. "We were robbed by those damn refs." The second goal England kicked had hit the top bar and dropped fully into the goalie's box, but the referees couldn't see the angle and disregarded the score. "This 'ole bliddy excursion 'as been controve'sial."

"And it's one of the worst defeats you've had."

"Can it, wanker," Arthur grumled. "Germany 'as a much younger team; there should be age restriction."

"Aw, cheer up, Arthur." Alfred dug another hamburger from his pocket and shoved it in the sweaty footballer's face as a consolation gesture. "You're just old and can't play as well as you used to." Now he was just being cheeky, and Arthur knew it, but it still pissed him off.

He snatched the burger from Alfred's hand and did an about-face. "I'll see you at the airport…"

END