Using your head: He did it right [Prussia/Germany]

[Prussia]

The loud cry of the excited crowd blended together in a mix of emotion that echoed throughout the stadium in the form of shouts, cries, and the infamous hum of the horns known as vuvuzelas. It was difficult to tell the difference between human and horn as the different noises buzzed dully in the ears of the players on the field, but their focus was fixed on the game, making the identification of each sound an invalid matter. The only thing that held any importance was the small blur of white that was quickly making its way toward the far side of the field and where it ended up in the end.

From inside the German goalpost a pair of crimson eyes carefully followed the soccer ball being passed between Argentinian players with ease. It was very rare that Gilbert openly showed that he was taking something such as a game seriously, but the look on his face suggested that he viewed the game he was currently in like that of one on the battlefield. Even the slightest mistakes could take the entire team down, and he'd be damned if he was the cause of their loss. Germany was going to make it through the semi-finals, of that he was sure, and soon they'd push through the third place match and finally take victory. Nothing was going to stop that.

Left... right... right again, center... left... As he watched, the Prussian carefully repeated each direction the ball was kicked in his mind to make it easier for him to concentrate on its path. His fingers twitched eagerly, ready to wrap around the rubber-like material and send it flying back toward the other side of the field. His entire body was tense, but it didn't prevent him from taking a small step to the side as one of the players in front of him suddenly lurched.

They were going for a goal; a goal a little too quickly.

Eyes widening, Gilbert frantically tried to come up with a method of defense, but his body seemed to both move and not move at the same time. Without thinking, he stepped forward, using the only means of block he could manage without having to think about it.

The ball connected with his face and a soft 'crack' sounded in his ears. Something wet was pouring down his face, but he didn't care. Blood and sweat were part of the game and he didn't have time to check it. A wide grin had spread across his lips at the look on the other players face from his unique method of blocking, but before he could toss the ball back into play, a shrill whistle sounded through the air, signaling a time-out. "What the hell...!?" he growled, glaring in the direction of the referee. "Nothing happened! Why are we stopping the game?"

[Germany]

Another day, another game. Already one point had been scored on the Argentinians just three minutes in and Ludwig intended to keep them on the defensive. However, it was only one point and they couldn't afford to get ahead of themselves. Especially since Argentina and Germany have had a large rivalry in soccer. Both teams had been waiting for the chance to play each other, and it was obvious that neither would let any kind of opportunity slip through their grasp.


Argentina had managed to snatch the ball away from them, passing back and forth while heading to the goal. Ludwig ran to catch up, seeing most of the team already gathered around, trying to get the ball back into their possession. White, blue, and black uniforms mashed together in an attempt to either keep or send the ball in the opposite direction. And then it happened...Argentina took the shot.


There was no way Gilbert could catch that, was there? It looked like a dead on shot from where Ludwig was, that is until his brother managed to deflect said shot. With his damn face. The blond facepalmed, hearing the sound of a whistle filling the air. A time-out, just wonderful, that more than likely meant that Gilbert was hurt in some way. Although he had to admit, that block was fairly impressive. With a sigh Ludwig jogged over to the goal post, just to check his brother out. It couldn't be anything too serious, right?


"You did a great job, Bruder, but I think your method was a bit..." He trailed off, staring at the massive amount of blood streaking down the Prussian's face and his nose was bent slightly to the right. Now he could see why the time-out was called. "Ah...Gilbert, I think you should go sit on the bench and get yourself looked at, that ball did quite a number on you..." Germany tried to explain subtly, already having a feeling that his easily excited sibling would put up a fight over the matter.


Who knew though, perhaps the albino wouldn't be so difficult. The again this was Gilbert he was talking about. The nation who never knew when to give up, even when he was down. The one who would keep fighting his battles even when every limb in his body was bloody and bruised. So really...what was a little game of Fußball to him? Probably nothing and that would prove to be quite a problem.

[Prussia]

The referee, much to Gilbert's surprise, met his glare with equal vigor and seemed unphased by the Prussian nation's disagreement with the time out. His protests went ignored and the coach stood at the sidelines fixing the albino with a look he couldn't quite make sense of. It irritated him that no one seemed to be listening, and even if the time could be made up at the end, they were wasting precious minutes that could be spent playing the game. They had to win, they had to make it to the top, and he had to make sure his brother left this tournament with more glory than he came with.

"What's the big deal, West?" he asked with a frown, turning to face Ludwig as the other ran over. It was just a ball to the face. I've had worse than a nosebleed before, and I was running around on a battlefield, too! Start the game up, I'm fine!" It was obvious that Gilbert was blatantly avoiding his brother's suggestions to leave the field, and he'd rather be dragged of kicking and screaming than willingly give up this game. Thinking about it, the kick had been pretty hard, and it had hurt a great deal when the ball hit, but this was nothing compared to all the other 'crap' he'd been through all his long life. After all, what was a ball to the face compared to the pain of being stabbed or having a vodka bottle shattered over his eye?

Shaking his head, he waved off the medic that was dancing awkwardly around him with a handful of gauze and what appeared to be tissues to drag his arm gingerly under his nose. The touch hurt, but he didn't show it. The blood blended nicely with his uniform (he suddenly felt the fact that they weren't wearing the white ones wasn't such a big deal) and there was no reason he couldn't keep playing. At least, not in his book. Awesome didn't quit, and awesome didn't easily give up on anything, and this match was no different.

Gilbert would make sure they won.

[Germany]

He knew Gilbert would do this, he always did this when he was hurt. "The 'big deal' is that you are bleeding and your nose is broken. You need to have it looked at before you do anymore damage to yourself." Ludwig answered, a hint of urgency in his voice. Really, did his brother have to be so difficult all the damn time? Bringing up wars in the argument already...yes he did have to be difficult; because Gilbert could never give up or settle for second best.


"Have you forgotten that I was involved in quite a few wars as well? This is different though, Gilbert, this is not a battlefield and I am asking you to please have it looked at." It wasn't such a terrible request; just a few minutes off the field and if the medics said he was okay, he could come back in. That was all Ludwig asked of him. He moved forward again, bringing a hand up to tilt Gilbert's face a little farther.


Definitely broken, there was no doubt about it from the odd angle Gilbert's nose had taken. "You do realize that your nose is bent, don't you?" The German asked, hoping that would be enough to get his brother to listen to him. The frown was still on his face, blue eyes looking back into red. Germany was making it clear that he would not move until the albino was looked at.


"I promise you can come be goalie again if they give you the okay to keep playing, but for now I am asking you to please listen to be, Bruder. We're already ahead, I'm sure we'll make it." A small smile was flashed in an attempt to coax the albino to go with the medic and he meant every word of that promise. Ludwig was worried, that's all there was to it. But then again, he had almost always worried over Gilbert, yet another thing that probably made him seem like the older of the two. He would fuss over this until Prussia agreed, and that was final.

[Prussia]

Rolling his eyes, Gilbert pushed Ludwig's hand away from his face and stepped back. Why the younger felt the need to fret over a broken nose, he couldn't begin to imagine, but it was already annoying him. Actual members of the team had gotten worse injuries and kept playing before--and they were human. Unlike himself and the other nations, their bodies weren't meant to take the strain, but his was.

"I'm not a little kid, West..." he said with a pout as he gestured to the field. "There isn't that much time left. Can't we wait until the match is over? You can have whoever you want look at me then, but we're just wasting time. The awesome me can handle a bloody nose--because it isn't broken--so stop freaking out on me." Turning to the referee, the Prussian attempted to gesture for him to resume the game, but all he got in response was a raised eyebrow and crossed arms. It was obvious that the official was taking his brother's side, and that only darkened the albino's mood more than it already was.

With a huff, he threw himself out of the goal-box and stormed over to the medical bench looking annoyed. "Mein Gott," he murmured. "I'm not a little kid. I can handle this just fine... I've had worse. You're all acting like I'm about to drop dead or something and--ouch! Hey! Don't poke it! Of course that fucking hurts. It was smacked with a ball and you're jabbing it!"
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A/N: Short post is lamely short... I'm sorry.

[Germany]

Ludwig frowned when his hand was shoved away from Gilbert's face. Really, did he have to be so damn difficult all the time? He was just trying to look out for the elder and if it were him in that place he knew Gilbert would throw a fit. "I know you're not, but please just do this for me?" Gilbert may not be a child, but the way he was pouting sure made him look like one. Ludwig ran a hand through his hair, sighing.


He supposed Gilbert did have a point, there wasn't much time left. At the same time though, if he had been dealt another shot like that and managed to block it with his damn face again it wouldn't turn out too good. Especially not with his nose already bent like that. The German's eyes followed his brother's over to the referee, a wave of relief washing over him at seeing the man agreeing with him. The game would not begin again until Gilbert had his nose checked out. That much was obvious.


Finally, it seemed Prussia was finished with his arguments; stomping over to the medics like a boy who had just been denied candy. "Danke, Bruder. I promise you can come back in if they say you're alright." Ludwig repeated his earlier promise, following behind Gilbert to see what the damage was. Of course he was still complaining, even as he was looked over. That was just the way the albino tended to be when he didn't get his way.


Germany didn't mind, he could deal with Gilbert's complaints; and he could be as loud as he wanted. "It's for safety reasons. You know that and if it were me, you can't say you wouldn't act the same." He countered with his earlier thoughts, at least trying to get the elder to calm down a fraction.

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OOC: It wasn't lame! D< *Cuddles your reply*

[Prussia]

With a huff, Gilbert pursed his lips in a second pout and fixed his brother with an offended look. Regardless of the fact that the German nation's words were true (the Prussian would have, in fact, pitched a fit should it had been Ludwig who had gotten hurt) he wasn't about to admit to his younger brother that he was right. Thus, he stuck to his protests and smacked the hand of the medic away each time the nurse poked his nose and insisted that he was fine, despite the wince that came with each touch. "I'm telling you, my nose is just fine. I'm perfectly awesome. The bleeding has even slowed down. I can keep playing, just let me--ouch! Hey! Nurse Dumbass, what did I say about poking my damn nose!?"

The medic examining the albino fixed him with a dark glare and gave the hand that had smacked his own a sharp rebuttal. A supply box was open and balanced precariously atop a water cooler, swaying slightly each time the officer reached inside to get what he needed next. Much to the man's frustration, Gilbert seemed intent on fighting him every inch of the way and wasn't going to admit to the fact that his nose was broken or in pain anytime soon. "Herr Weillschmidt, if you would please hold your brother down..." he began in an annoyed tone, slapping the Prussian's hand away as it made another wild gesture toward his face. "I could finish this much quicker and get you both back on the field."

"I don't need a bandage or cast of any kind! I'm telling you, I'm totally awesome. I don't need this crap. Just let me get back to playing before we end up having to spend an hour in extra time." Much to everyone's distress, he albino still wasn't giving up the fight of insisting that he was alright. No amount of blood or agony seemed to be proof enough that he wasn't meant to be on the field at the moment. The medical staff was reaching their wits end, and one of them had already retrieved a syringe filled with tranquilizer and was prepared to use it the moment he was given a signal.

[Germany]

For claiming that he was not a child, Gilbert could really act like one. His squirming and shouting profanities at anyone who came near him in an attempt to help. "Bruder! Just let them do their job, the faster they finish, the faster you're back on the field!" Ludwig sighed, bringing his hands up to rub his temples. As much as he loved his brother, the elder could be such a pain when it came to things like this.


Hearing the doctor call for is help, Ludwig nodded, sitting on the bench next to Gilbert and giving him a serious look. "Gilbert, honestly. I'm going to ask one more time before I let them drug you. Please just let them fix your nose. That's all they're here for, and you even heard the doctor, he was willing to let you continue playing." With a sigh, he put a hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "Would you really sacrifice our chance of victory for your stubborn pride?"


A quick glance to the field, the other players were getting restless on both sides and it was obvious from the looks on their faces. If Gilbert didn't man up and simply allow the medics to get near him soon, he wouldn't be allowed back in the game at all. Blue eyes trained back on red, Ludwig mumbling one last thing to him. "Listen...it's your choice. I'm not going to keep telling you what to do here. If you want help, then me and the team both thank you; but if you're going to continue refusing it, then there is really nothing more I can do."


He gave the other an unsure smile. Unsure because he really had no clue what his decision would be, Gilbert could go either way. Sometimes Ludwig would be able to get through to him and the Prussian would take his advice. But most of the time Gilbert went on and did his own thing, regardless of what Germany had to say about it. Quite honestly, he hoped it would be the latter today. Sure, they were ahead by one point, but it was only one point. And Gilbert was the best goalie they had, they wouldn't have practiced kicks and blocks for so long if Ludwig hadn't been sure Gilbert could do it.


So, there they continued to sit on the bench, doctors, Ludwig, and the rest of the team awaiting Gilbert's final decision.
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Omg, looks SO much better than the original post!

[Prussia]

A small sigh tumbled from Gilbert's lips as he looked between his brother, the medical squad, and then finally the team. Each one had a worried expression on their face, and it did nothing to settle the Prussian's already upset mood. With a grunt, he turned back to the doctor hovering over him and crossed his arms with a small scowl, glaring at the ground below him. "Whatever... Just hurry up and make it quick. We've got a game to win."

For all the complaining he'd done, the actual cleaning of his nose didn't take long at all. Once he finally stopped moving and allowed the doctor to touch him without attempting to punch or bite, the progress moved smoothly and the tension died down quickly. Alas, much to the medic annoyance, Gilbert still refused one of the large bandages, and he was left with only the option of taping the injury as best he could without obscuring the ablino's vision. "That's all I will be able to do for now if you wish to continue playing," the doctor started. "Just remember to be--"

"Careful. Ja, ja... I got it." Rolling is eyes, Gilbert stood up and walked over to his brother with a splitting grin. The thrilled spark had returned to his eyes, and he all but dragged the younger to his feet. "Come on, West. We've got a game to win." A pale hand clapped Ludwig's shoulder sharply before it's owner sprinted back on to the field, receiving several small cries of delight from the team now that the entire fiasco was over.
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A/N: D: Sorry it's suckish and short. If you want, we can skip to the end of the game in your next post.

[Germany]

Finally, Gilbert was being agreeable; a phrase Ludwig thought he would never be used to describe his brother's usual behavior. As much as he loved him, the Prussian really could be one of the most frustrating men in the entire world when he wanted to be. "Danke, Bruder...from both me and the team." He spoke after Gilbert's reluctant acceptance of his inevitable fate.


No, addressing the wound had only taken about a minute or so, if they had done it sooner without all of Gilbert's bickering, they could have been at least halfway through the game by now. Either way, what's done was done; although Ludwig knew he would never hear the end of it once he would actually have to treat the wound himself. They were going to go right back to square number one, he could already feel it.


A strong grip on is hand, pulling him up from the medical bench brought Germany's attention back to the game, the elder's usual smile seemed glued to his face. A small grin cracked Ludwig's own lips, returning the excitement that practically radiated from Gilbert at this very moment. "Ja, we do. Deutschland über alles." Ludwig said confidently as he joined Prussia on the soccer field, that phrase no longer having the sting it used to if uttered quite a few years ago.
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A/N: It wouldn't flow right for me if I just cut in the middle of my post, so the end of the game is up to you~ We can just start from there whenever you post next! :3