So, this was not a request, but I wanted to do it since my country is hosting the Olympics (Yaaay!) and it took me forever, but here it finally is. Disclaimer: Brazil and Ireland did not play each other in soccer. Ireland didn’t even play soccer. It’s just the only sport I’m crazy about. I know the Olympics finished like seventeen years ago, bu I didn’t have time to sit and write. Very sorry.
This is dedicated to my beautiful friend Violeta, who died recently. May she live on in soccer and in Hercules Mulligan forever.
“I don’t suck. I got you tickets so that we could see our home countries play in soccer. I don’t suck.”
It was halfway through the game and you were losing hope. The score was tied at a miserable one to one, and you were absolutely positive it was Hercules’ fault.
Stupid, adorable Herc with his face painted like the Irish flag. With his smile lighting up the entire area.
“VAMOS!” You shouted, seeing that Neymar Jr. had secured the ball. “VAMOS! LINDO ANJO, VAMOS!”
“NOOO!” Half of the stadium yelled.
“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAL!!!” The other half of the stadium screamed. “NEYMAR!”
“HAHA!” You shouted, jabbing Hercules in the chest, waving the Brazilian flag in his face. “WE GOT A GOAL AGAINST YOUR IRISH ASSES!”
You jumped with the other Brazilians in the box, screaming loudly in Portuguese.
“Can you pass me the water bottle, please?” You asked Herc once you sat down, panting heavily.
Hercules exhaled violently before turning his back on you.
“Here.” He growled, passing you the emptying water. “Just keep it and stop talking to me.”
“Are you mad at me?” You asked in disbelief. “Herc! I’m competitive! It’s soccer. This is my life.”
“Before this game started I was your life. You’re mean and you haven’t even said thank you yet.”
You groaned. “Fine. Be that way. I really hate you right now.”
“I can live with that!” Hercules shouted angrily.
Fifteen more minutes in and Brazil shot another goal, and then another. Something about the angry Irishman next to the crazy Brazilian must have attracted the cameras, because before you knew it, you and Hercules were on the giant screens around the stadium.
“No, damn it!” You shouted, trying to wave the camera away. “I don’t like him!”
It must have been a commercial break for the people watching from home because the camera didn’t rush to move back to the soccer players. You were so focused on trying to get it away that you didn’t notice everyone cheering; or Hercules kneeling.
“I’m going to pretend I’m not mad at you for two seconds.” You said, whirling around to face Hercules. You frowned, noticing that he wasn’t next to you anymore.
“Olhar para baixo, linda.” A man said from behind you. You frowned again, tilting your head downwards.
“Oh, my god.” You muttered, your hands flying to your mouth. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me, Hercules Mulligan.”
There he was, on one knee, a ring inside of a box. He grinned at you.
“Come on, angry Brazilian lady. Hate me if you want, but just marry me already.”
The cheering from around the stadium got louder, and even the soccer players stopped drinking their water to scream.
“Fine.” You said, your mouth curving into a grin. “Fine, fine, fine!”
Hercules slid the ring onto your finger before standing up to pull you into a kiss. You smiled against his lips, people all around you shouting happily.
“I told you I don’t like sappy proposals.” You said, looking into his eyes. “That was really sappy.”
“Just shut up and watch the game.” Hercules laughed, pulling you into his side. You rested your head on his arm.
The soccer players resumed running, the Brazilians kept cheering, and the Irish continued to boo.