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May 19, 2014 - DFB-Pokal Victory Dinner, Munich

Another season gone, another trophy won. When the final whistle blew, it signaled Bayern’s second trophy of the season. Victory has always been so much sweeter when it’s against Dortmund, and the Bayern players soaked in every second in the Berlin stadium. Even with his injury, even though it was a situation he’s been in so many times before, Bastian relished every moment. And he ignored that it still felt a little emptier than it did in 2008 all those years ago (when the one person he had needed to be there was celebrating alongside him).

The victory dinner, two days later, is slightly rushed, given that so many players have to go to their respective national teams the next morning, but nothing can stop Manuel and his ever present bottle of beer. Bastian sits between Philipp and Thomas, who seems to be listening avidly to Javi.

“Sí, sí, el equipo de Alemania tiene mucho talento pero España ganó la Copa Mundial, ¿no?” Javi is talking rapidly in Spanish, the way he always does when he forgets that Thomas can’t actually understand him (although Thomas is nodding along, clearly not caring about the language barrier). “Y Alemania perdió en 2008 y otra vez en 2010 cuando jugué con España. Pues, está claro que España es la mejor.” Bastian watches as Thomas just laughs and pats Javi on the back. He’s almost completely sure that Thomas had no idea what Javi was saying, but then again, it’s never really mattered to either of them before. It's not like Thomas pays attention to half the things that are being said to him anyways.

On his other side, Philipp leans in and asks, “You’re very quiet today Basti, what’s wrong?” Philipp has always regarded Bastian as his little brother and he can always tell when something is off.

Bastian forces down another gulp of beer and fakes a smile before answering. “I’m fine, I’m just tired.” It’s a weak lie and Philipp knows it.

“Just relax. Go home and relax. I don't know why you're even nervous. He's your best friend, god damn it,” Phillip says quietly, careful not to let anyone overhear. He shakes his head (and doesn’t roll his eyes because he is mature and sensible, obviously) as Bastian turns white. Philipp has known Bastian for nearly his entire life, so of course he knows Bastian even better than Bastian knows himself.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Bastian manages to say.

“Sure you don’t. But really, Basti, just calm down, what do you think is going to be different?” Philipp feels like they’ve had this conversation a million times before (probably because they have).

Bastian can't bring himself to drink anymore; his stomach churns at the thought of finishing even one beer. He wonders how Manuel manages to keep that amount of food and alcohol down. “I promise you, Fips, I’m fine.”

Philipp just gives him a sad look. “Okay.”

Bastian glances at his watch and decides he's stayed long enough. “I'm going home. Early train. See you guys,” he says to the team. As soon as he walks out, Toni, Jerome, and Mario crowd around Philipp to confirm their suspicions (in reality, Mario has no idea what’s going on because he’s newer, but he follows his more experienced teammates anyway).

Meanwhile, Thomas is as clueless as usual. “It's not even 10 yet and he doesn't have kids,” he points out to Javi, who is usually the only person who is just as oblivious as Thomas. But this time, even Javi can sense something is wrong. “Wait, is something wrong?” Thomas glances at Manuel, who usually informs him about these things, but Manuel is currently very drunk, standing on a chair, and hugging (or suffocating, Thomas can’t tell) a disgruntled Arjen Robben.

Philipp sighs. Even after all these years, he has trouble understanding how Thomas can be such a good footballer and still behave like he never left kindergarten. “Yes, Mülli, there’s something wrong,” he says, managing to sound much more patient than he feels. “Bastian is worrying about meeting Lukas again.” Toni and Jerome exchange exasperated looks as Mario wonders why this is a problem at all, and Thomas’ face floods with confusion.

“But aren’t they together?” Thomas asks. Everyone stares at him. “Why are you all looking at me like I’m crazy? Haven’t they been together for 8 years or 10 years or something?”

Philipp can't help but chuckle. Sometimes it really does seem like they're a couple. Philipp is more than aware of this because he’s had to deal with it for the past ten years, but Thomas has only really known them for four years, so the fact that even he has caught on is remarkable.

Mario looks at his teammates. “Wait, I thought Bastian was dating that model. Sarah, right? And doesn’t Lukas have a kid?” The others regard him fondly, remembering how young Mario is. He hasn’t been exposed to the antics of Lukas and Bastian for as long as the others have. Toni wraps his arm around his younger teammate and pats him reassuringly on the shoulder.

“When we get to training, pay attention to Bastian and tell me what you see,” Toni says.

Nearby, Thomas pulls Manuel away from Robben, who looks relieved to be alive and free, and shouts, “YOU TOLD ME THEY WERE TOGETHER!” The German internationals wince as everyone turns and stares at Thomas.

Manuel sees everyone looking in his direction and suddenly the last five beers didn’t seem like such a good idea. “Thomas, get away from me,” he groans. Thomas may be clueless most of the time, but he knows Manuel is serious because he never calls him Thomas, especially when he’s drunk.

“Oh shit, oh shit.” Thomas stumbles back and dives behind Javi, holding the poor boy in place as a shield. “He’s gonna blow.”

Manuel heaves once and upchucks everything he consumed in the last few hours. Some of the newer players look a little scandalized, but everyone else just takes it in stride. Javi turns to Thomas, muttering, “Joder, vosotros alemanes estáis locos. ¡Es increíble!”

Philipp is almost relieved that Manuel threw up. At least Bastian’s problems are forgotten for the rest of the night. But right before he’s about to leave, Thomas reaches out and grabs Philipp’s arm. “Hey, Fips,” he says, and he has a mischievous look on his face that Philipp knows means trouble. “I bet Toni and Jerome 20 Euros that Lukas and Basti would get together by the end of the World Cup, but they bet me 50 that our favorite duo wouldn’t do it without me saying something first.”

“It’s been ten years, what makes you think this World Cup is going to be any different?” Philipp asks him.

“I just have a gut feeling,” Thomas says, vague as usual.

“Are you sure it’s not just gas?” Philipp teases lightly.

“75 euros. They’re going to get together,” Thomas says.

“All right, fine, Mülli, whatever you say.” Philipp gives in because Thomas is surprisingly persistent and he knows they’ll be here all night if he doesn’t accept. They shake hands, and then Thomas’ face splits into a devilish grin and Philipp feels an oncoming sense of dread.

“Oh, and if I win, I get to be best man at their wedding,” he smirks, and then he literally skips away, leaving Philipp standing there, cursing hyperactive 24-year-olds. (And really, is there even proof that Thomas isn’t younger than that?)

****

May 19, 2014 - FA Cup Victory Dinner, London

Nine years. It’s been nine years since Arsenal has won anything. So when the final whistle blew, the Arsenal players ran out into Wembley Stadium and celebrated like they’d just won the Champions League. The last time Lukas had experienced euphoria like it was in 2008, when he was still at Bayern Munich, winning the Bundesliga and the DFB-Pokal. But it hadn’t been the same, it couldn’t be, not when Arsenal hasn’t won anything for so long, not when there were only two other Germans celebrating the title beside him this time (though neither one is really who he wants to be celebrating with).

A victory dinner is scheduled two days later and an unlimited bar is provided, courtesy of the club. As usual, Lukas seats himself between Olivier and Mesut, with Per on Mesut’s other side. Everyone is chatting animatedly but Lukas remains uncharacteristically silent. Occasionally he laughs softly at his drunken teammates, but otherwise he does nothing but fidget with his fork, leaving his pint untouched.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Olivier nudges him playfully. Lukas smiles reassuringly, but Olivier continues. “You should be happy! We’ve won a trophy, we have free drinks, and soon we’ll be off to Brazil!” Lukas stiffens at the mention of Brazil while Olivier looks baffled. Per and Mesut glance at each other, realizing what is going on with their friend. They know what (who) is really on Lukas’ mind.

Per finally decides to speak up. “Lukas, you should go home, sleep. Have Monika make you some soup. The plane leaves early and you look like scheiße.”

“Like merde, or as our English friends say, absolute shit,” Olivier agrees, but behind his cheeky grin, there’s concern in his eyes. Lukas glares at them both but knows he can’t really argue (he has no energy to do so anyway), so he gets up, nods at the three of them, sends smiles to the others, and leaves. The door slams behind him and the restaurant goes silent. Most of the boys throw the remaining Germans questioning glances only to receive shrugs in return. Once Lukas is gone, Olivier turns to Per and Mesut. “What was that guy’s name again? The one with the yellow hair and big nose?”

“Bastian,” Per says at the same time that Mesut answers, “Schweinsteiger.” The two Germans collapse into a small fit of laughter at that. As he recovers, Per chuckles and says, “Don’t let Lukas hear you saying things like that about him, though.”

“Mais, il a un très grand nez! C’est pas normale. I only state the truth. And he –” Olivier pauses, looking for the right words – “they are a thing, no? Les amoureux?”

“Not yet,” Per says, barely managing to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “But they’ve been at it for ten years now, for as long as I’ve known them. Honestly, it’s almost sickening to watch. I’m not sure how much longer they’ll be able to hold out.”

Olivier whistles under his breath. “Jesus, I thought Mathieu and I were bad, but ten years is ridiculous. C’est incroyable! I just kiss the damn boy when I feel like it, during matches sometimes, in front of everyone. What are they waiting for?” Per and Mesut have no answer, because they’ve been wondering the same thing for years.

A portion of the team had overheard the conversation, as much as Mesut and Per had tried to keep their voices down. They arrange themselves in a circle as they whisper to each other about the new discovery. “Boy toy,” and “Closet,” are among the few words Per is able to pick out from the conversations and he feels a little indignant on Lukas’ behalf.

“Putain, vous Allemands sont bizarre.” Olivier shakes his head. “And the English love their gossip.” He downs the rest of his drink and stands up. “Well, I guess I had better head out, the plane leaves early tomorrow. Bonne nuit, mes amis.” He taps Laurent and Bacary on their shoulders on his way to the door, and they’re both quick to follow him out.

Per and Mesut remain behind for a little longer and are soon the only ones left. Mesut turns to Per and says, “Lukas looked really out of it, didn’t he?”

Per nods in agreement. “This happens every time. Give them an hour together and it’ll be back to normal.”

“I might throw up if they play rugby again,” Mesut groans. “They’re worse than those American romance movies.”

“I don’t see them being able to deny it much longer. I’d bet 50 Euros that they’ll be together by the end of the World Cup,” Per says.

“Make it 75 and you’re on,” Mesut grins. “Shake on it?” Per just smirks back as he accepts.

****

May 20, 2014 - Train to South Tyrol

Bastian takes another sip of the lukewarm coffee as he glances nervously at his watch for the tenth time in half an hour. “Damn train is running late,” he mutters to no one in particular. His teammates are much less concerned about the delay. Thomas has disappeared to god knows where as he always tends to do, Toni and Mario are talking quietly to each other, probably about Philipp and Manuel’s injuries, and Jerome is reading. Suddenly, there’s a crash at the back of the carriage and everyone jumps in their seat.

“Sorry!” Thomas calls out, reappearing behind a cart and quickly trying to rearrange the food that has spilled all over it. Next to Bastian, Jerome sighs, puts down his book, and gets up to go help out.

Once things are settled, Thomas plops down next to Bastian, stealing Jerome’s seat. Bastian throws Jerome an apologetic look, and Jerome just sighs again and goes to sit by Toni and Mario. “So, are you ready?” Thomas asks.

“What? Yeah,” Bastian says quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be? We’ve been to the World Cup before. Nothing unusual or anything.”

“Well, the last time I saw you sweat this much was after the full 120 minutes against Real Madrid in 2012, so what is it? You look like a fucking fountain.” Thomas says casually. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what’s on Bastian’s mind, but he really loves messing with people. And of course, he’s also a little concerned about the man’s frankly odd behavior.

Bastian doesn’t answer, but he understands this is just Thomas’ way of trying to calm him down (he silently tells himself to get a grip).

When they arrive, Bastian is the first one off the train, rushing out to meet the driver who had been assigned to transport them. The five Bayern players pile into the single car and they make their way to the hotel. Bastian has to suffer Thomas’ bony elbow sticking into his side, but he can see Mario fidgeting and Toni’s leg bouncing up and down on the other side, and is grateful to be sitting by the door.

When they reach the hotel entrance, Bastian suddenly feels incapable of getting up.

Thomas clearly doesn’t notice this because he tugs at Bastian’s sleeve impatiently like a child. “Come on, Basti, get out, I wanna see grandpa Miro!”

Slowly and reluctantly, Bastian gets out. Behind him, Thomas scrambles out, nearly hitting his head on the door frame, and rushes into the hotel excitedly, completely forgetting about his luggage. Toni shakes his head and grabs both his and Thomas’ bags, then accompanies Jerome and Mario as they walk through the doors.

The hotel is gorgeous, no doubt, but Bastian ignores the decor as he resolutely pretends that he isn’t straining to see if Lukas is already here. But the lobby is mostly empty, with just a few members of the technical team milling about.

“Bayern’s the only team that’s here, Schweinsteiger,” someone says cheerfully. “But they should all be arriving soon, don’t worry!”

Bastian sinks down on one of the expensive couches next to Thomas, who’s complaining to no one in particular that Miro isn’t here yet, and closes his eyes, waiting to hear the telltale sound of his teammates bursting through the door.

****

May 20, 2014 - Verona Villafranca Airport

Lukas’ ears pop as the plane makes its final descent. He shoves the book he is reading into his backpack and shakes Mesut. “Wake up, lazy, we’re here.”

Mesut rubs his eyes. “Jesus, did you sleep at all?”

“It was only two hours,” Lukas says. He checks his watch nervously. “We should be there by lunch if the train’s not late.”

Mesut knows why his friend is so agitated, but he also knows that Lukas won’t appreciate it if he brings it up. He had started to mention meeting Bastian for lunch as they browsed for magazines with the rest of the team (minus the Bayern players) at Frankfurt airport before boarding the plane, but stopped himself when he saw Lukas' face turn white and his ears redden at the mention of their friend. If only Per could be here – he’s known Lukas for a long time and is better at dealing with this kind of thing.

Lukas races to collect all his belongings and is probably the first person off the plane, stopping only to apologize for knocking into various passengers. Mesut hurries after him, concerned about his friend’s strange (but admittedly, not entirely unexpected) behavior. By the time he catches up to him, Lukas is waiting impatiently at the baggage claim, watching the empty carousel go around. His backpack is half unzipped, his shoes are untied, and his eyes are sunken. Mesut walks up to him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, the luggage is going to be a bit delayed. Me and some other guys will wait for the stuff, you go ahead with the others to the hotel, okay?” Mesut says quietly. Lukas halfheartedly tries to protest, but eventually he gives in and thanks his friend.

Lukas and half the team take the train into South Tyrol, then pile into taxis to go to the hotel. He can barely breathe as his taxi rolls to a stop. Miro seems to notice, because he tells him quietly, “Just breathe, Lukas. You’re fine.” Everyone else has already gone in, but it still takes all Lukas’ strength to get out and walk into the lobby.

****

It’s noon, and everyone (besides Manuel, Philipp, Per, and Sami, but they’re definitely not arriving until later anyway) has arrived now. The players greet each other fondly, all club rivalry forgotten. In one corner, Thomas is talking rapidly to Miro, who’s clearly not following anything that the younger man is saying, but he’s smiling anyway. Benni, Mats, and Julian are chatting animatedly, and Mario, Marco, André, and Toni are sitting together. Roman, Kevin Großkreutz, Erik, and Marcel are gathered on a couch. Mesut is sitting next to Bastian and talking to Jerome, and Ron-Robert, Shkodran, Lars, Matthias, Christoph, and Kevin Volland are sitting at a large table.

The lobby is still full of laughter and chatter when Lukas walks in, but it seems to fade away when his eyes find Bastian, hunched over in the corner of the couch, quietly staring at nothing. Bastian, almost as if he can sense Lukas’ gaze, turns at that exact moment and his eyes meet Lukas’. In a somewhat dreamlike state, Lukas feels himself moving towards Bastian as Bastian slowly, shakily stands up. And then suddenly, they’re wrapped in each other’s arms, clinging at each other in a desperate hug (they both ignore how complete they feel).

“Missed you,” Lukas breathes quietly.

“I know how you feel,” Bastian murmurs back, nuzzling his face into the crook of Lukas’ neck. They inhale each other’s scent, smelling the colognes and shampoos they have come to know so well. Neither of them realize they’re still clinging on to each other until giggling breaks out around them. When they finally break apart, both their faces are slightly red, but they can’t help but smile.

Thomas nudges Miro. “Hey, wanna make a bet?”

Miro raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure? I’ve never lost a bet before, you know, Mülli.” Thomas gives him a look that clearly says Of course I’m sure. “All right, then I bet you 100 Euros that they won’t get together until after the World Cup is over.”

Thomas grins. “You found out about the bets we were making already? God damn. I never get to explain anything. But honestly, look at them. 150 Euros that they’re not going to last that long.”

“200 Euros. After the World Cup,” Miro says. “They need the adrenaline to do anything drastic. And there’ll be plenty of that when we win.”

“Whatever you say, old man,” Thomas smirks as they shake hands. “But I like your confidence. I knew there was a reason I look up to you.”

Jogi stands up on a chair, and shouts for everyone to shut up. “Okay guys, we have a slight problem. Some idiot, that definitely wasn’t me,” (behind him, Hansi coughs awkwardly to cover up a snort), “gave the hotel the wrong information and now they’re down a room. The manager says there’s one room left, but it’s a single bed suite,” (usually reserved for honeymoons, he doesn’t add), “so I’ll be needing...”

“We’ll take it,” Lukas says before Jogi can even finish his sentence. Bastian looks around shyly, hearing snickers from his teammates, and Lukas reddens after realizing his mistake. Even Jogi and Hansi are looking strangely at them.

“300 Euros,” Thomas whispers to Miro. “Those fuckers aren’t going to last.”

The team watches as Bastian and Lukas gather their bags and grab the room key from Jogi. They say something about dropping off bags and meeting everyone else at lunch in a moment. Marco exchanges a look with Mario (he was about to volunteer for them), who raises his eyebrows at Toni. “Was that just me or did that actually happen?” he asks.

Thomas overhears him and skips over, “Oh my god, Toni. They don’t even need me. You and Jerome better be prepared to hand over 50 Euros. And Mario, buddy, this is just the beginning. It’s going to get so much worse.”

****

May 23, 2014 - Training Camp

“They're late,” Thomas says gleefully, “I can practically feel the money in my hands.” He shoves another mouthful of eggs into his mouth before continuing. “I wonder what they're doing in the honeymoon suite.”

Miro looks disapprovingly in his direction. “Thomas, what have I said about talking with your mouth full?” Marco, Mario, and André, who are watching from across the table, have to stifle their giggles when Thomas actually pouts at Miro’s condescending tone. “You have to set a good example for the younger ones, Mülli.” He gestures to the two boys across from them.

“You know I’m actually older than Thomas, right?” Marco asks.

“But you’re not more mature than me,” Thomas says as he uses his fork and knife to arrange the food on his plate into a smiley face. “Plus, I’m winning this bet, so that makes me a winner and therefore better!” He then dramatically flourishes his napkin and places it on Miro’s head. “Look, here they come now. They look pretty loved up if you ask me.”

Miro turns and looks at the aforementioned pair critically, the napkin still draped on his head. Bastian has his arm around Lukas, who is nearly doubled over with laughter. They don’t acknowledge any of their teammates, too caught up in whatever they’ve been talking about. “No, nothing happened,” he says.

“How can you tell?” asks Mario, who’s genuinely curious about this whole ordeal.

“Well, they’re still completely comfortable with each other,” Miro says patiently as he carefully removes the napkin and places it firmly on Thomas’ lap. “Based on previous observations, like with you and Marco here, things are awkward for at least a few days when such a major step is taken.” Mario and Marco both blush at the words, surprised that Miro knows about the depth of their relationship (though it’s not like they’ve ever been good at hiding it). “And also, it’s clear that neither one is aware of the other’s true feelings, so they’re going to remain oblivious for quite a bit longer.”

Lukas and Bastian sit down in the last two remaining seats. "Basti, can you get me some eggs, the fruity looking thing, and whatever else you want to have?" Lukas asks Bastian.

“Why am I always the one getting up?” Bastian complains.

“Please?” Lukas asks. He leans on Bastian and gives him the most blatant puppy dog eyes, and everyone at the table can see Basti’s features visibly soften as he caves in to Lukas’ request.

Upon watching this, Mario nudges Marco. “Hey, Marco, you wanna get me some...” he starts cheekily.

“Don’t even try,” Marco warns, smirking, even as his arm snakes around Mario’s shoulders.

Bastian returns with Lukas’ and his food, and soon everyone has finished their breakfast, so they all head to the training pitch. Bastian has to leave to do his individual recovery workout, and Lukas sends him off with a hug and a whispered, “Don’t worry, I know you’ll be back in no time.”

Behind them, Thomas is reenacting Manuel’s throw up scene, but with more gagging. “Look at them,” he says to Per, who arrived yesterday (he hasn’t stopped talking about his new kid) and happens to be closest to him. “How can anyone think they’re not gonna get together by the end of this tournament? They’re not even gonna make it out of training camp at this rate.”

Per just ruffles Thomas’ hair, smiling fondly. “I wouldn’t be so sure, buddy. I’ve known them for ten years and they’ve pretty much always been like this.”

****

After an intense session of training, everyone is ready to head to their rooms and just collapse into bed, but the dinner smells too good to skip. Grumbling about new bruises and sore spots, the team files into the banquet hall.

“Oh my god,” Thomas says as he stuffs his face. “I want to marry the food.”

“Calm down, man,” Manuel says, but he too is shoving food in his mouth.

“When have you ever known him to be calm?” Philipp mutters, but the slight smile he has on his face ruins any chances of him appearing stern.

“I liked it better when you weren’t here. Why couldn’t you stay in Munich a little longer?” Thomas retorts, but everyone knows he’s kidding. “By the way, did you see Poldi’s new Facebook post?” At this point, everyone is eagerly listening in on the conversation. Lukas and Bastian had volunteered to console Lars about his injury and help him pack, so they’re the only ones not around.

“No, what was it?” Mats is the one who impatiently gestures for Thomas to continue.

“He did one of those ‘who’s in the picture with me?’ posts with a picture from training, and guess who it was?” Thomas doesn’t pause to let anyone answer. “Well, I know this will surprise about zero of you, but it was Basti! Could he be more obvious?” He thinks about this for a second and then continues, “Wait, never mind, don’t answer that.”

“But isn’t Lukas married? And Bastian has a girlfriend, right?” Erik asks as Julian and some of the other new players nod in agreement. They all look very confused.

“It’s pretty much an unspoken truth that Basti and Sarah are more like siblings,” Philipp is quick to say. “They love each other a lot, but they’re not in love.”

“And Lukas and Monika are the same way,” Miro says. “They got married for Louis, but it’s clear that their feelings for each other are basically platonic. It's kind of like friends with benefits. But not those benefits, I guess.” The youngsters drink in this newfound knowledge, fascinated. Everyone continues to eat in relative silence; the only sound is made by Manuel, defensively hiding his bowl of Nutella and fruit as Thomas tries to steal from it.

The moment is broken just seconds later as Lukas, Bastian, and Lars walk in. Poor Lars looks distraught, and the other two have sympathetic looks on their faces. Some of the Dortmund players get up to comfort Lars (they all know his brother, of course) as Lukas and Bastian sit down.

Lukas shifts uncomfortably in his seat and stares at Bastian's knee.

"What's wrong?" Bastian asks. Lukas has been off all night, ever since Lars found out the bad news. Thomas shifts closer to hear the conversation, but Manuel kicks him under the table, signaling him to stop eavesdropping. He ignores Manuel and scoots a little closer. Bastian and Lukas are too caught up in their conversation to notice Thomas fall off his chair in enthusiasm. Next to him, Miro sighs and helps Thomas back onto the chair.

"Look, even if I somehow got worse and couldn’t play anymore, I'd stay with you guys. I promise you I'll stick around. It’s going to be alright," Thomas manages to catch Bastian saying. His eyes widen when he sees Bastian reach for Lukas’ arm and give a comforting squeeze.

He looks triumphantly at Philipp and whispers quite loudly, “Hey Fips, you wanna increase that bet to 500 Euros?”

“From 75? Are you crazy?” Philipp chokes on his drink. Toni pats him on the back as Thomas nods.

“I’m ready to win as much money as possible,” he says.

“Just agree to it, Philipp,” Miro says with a soft smile, “because he’s going to owe me 300 and Toni and Jerome another 50 each. We’ll take you out to dinner when we win.”

“Whatever you say, Opa,” Thomas says cheerfully. “We have a deal, Fips?”

“Sure, sure, fine,” Philipp grumbles. “I’m getting too old for this crap.”

Miro’s grin widens. “You’re telling me.”

****

Later, when everyone has finished dinner, said their goodbyes to Lars, and returned to their rooms, Manuel is on the verge of falling asleep when Thomas literally jumps on top of him in excitement. “Ow, what the hell are you doing, Mülli?”

“He posted another picture, Manu! Look at this!”

Thomas shoves his phone at Manuel’s face, who peers at the screen blearily. He’s still annoyed, but he does have to admit that the selfie of Lukas and Bastian really does make them look like a couple. The closeness, the smiles on their faces, the wink emoji in the caption, it all contributes to the coupley feel of the picture.

“You know, Mülli, you might just be right about them,” Manuel says. “They really don’t seem like they’re gonna last much longer.”

****

May 28, 2014 - Training Camp cont.

Lukas and Bastian are practically bouncing as they head to their seats at the table. “Why the hell are those two so happy?” Kevin asks. He’s bleary-eyed and can barely keep his head up.

“Probably has something to do with Bastian being able to train with the whole team today,” Matthias guesses. “I could hear them celebrating last night.”

Thomas clears his throat, “How exactly were they celebrating?”

“Not the way you want,” Erik says. “But you’d think they’d try to be a little more sensitive.” He gestures to the other end of the table, where Mats is talking soothingly to Benni and Julian, who are still in a state of shock from yesterday’s accident. “I heard that they need to go in for a psych eval later.”

Laughter bursts out around where Lukas and Bastian are sitting, and when even Julian manages to crack a smile, Erik decides to forgive them. The energy is a hundred times higher around the pair as they tell stories and fling food around the table. The younger players are starting to see the amount of influence that Bastian and Lukas have over the atmosphere of the entire squad, and they observe in awe and admiration.

Practice is better than usual, with Bastian and Lukas joking around and generally brightening the mood of everyone else. Sami hasn’t stopped smiling since he arrived two days ago, which is understandable; he did win the Champions League, after all, and now he’s fully recovered from his injury and practicing with the rest of the team. The happiness is contagious, apparently, because everyone on the team feels much more cheerful and optimistic about the World Cup than they had before today. Best of all, even Jogi seems to be affected because he decides to end the practice early. Everyone jogs off the pitch in high spirits, making plans for the remainder of the afternoon and night.

“We can go skiing,” Lukas says. “I know you love it. Plus, we seem to have the right company.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bastian says affectionately.

“No, seriously, that’s Hermann Maier, the Austrian skier.” Lukas points to a man standing in the lobby. “Wonder what he’s doing here.”

“Well, considering that we’re professional football players, I’d guess he’s here to see us, Luki,” Bastian teases.

“Or maybe he wants to get you back into skiing,” Lukas says, grinning.

“Well, going skiing is out of the question, but I want a picture.” Bastian pulls Lukas’ phone out of his friend’s pocket and tugs Lukas over.

Thomas happens to walk in just as they take the picture. He spots Philipp sitting on one of the couches, watching Cameroon’s most recent match (their captain is such a nerd), and skips over to him. “Look at them. Isn’t it cute? He even knows which pocket Lukas keeps his phone in. I don’t think Lisa remembers where I keep my phone.”

“You don’t even remember where you keep your phone, Mülli,” Philipp reminds him, pausing the game. “That’s why you make Manu keep it, remember?”

“Oh my god, that’s right, Manu has it! I've been looking for the past two hours. Shit, I probably have ten missed calls from Lisa by now.” Thomas jumps up and runs off to look for the goalie.

Philipp is about to resume the match when Per sits down in the empty seat. “He’s something else, isn’t he?” Per chuckles, shaking his head a little.

“And we still love him,” Philipp agrees. “But the real issue is those two.” He doesn’t even need to gesture at Lukas and Bastian, who are uploading their picture to Facebook, for Per to know who he’s talking about.

“If they do finally get together...” Per trails off. “I mean, I want them to be happy, but...you know, the media hasn’t exactly been kind to Schweini and they wouldn’t mind ripping apart our Prinz Poldi either. Most of the team would be okay, and in fact, they’re probably expecting it, but there's always one or two assholes.” Neither man says any names, but they’re both thinking about all the controversy Roman has gotten into in the past. These days, the attitude has been a bit better, but it is still risky business.

“Have you made any bets yet?” Philipp asks a few moments later.

Per grins and says, “Just one with Mesut. Why, you interested in making one?”

“Thomas bet me 500 Euros, but I think we can be a little more reasonable about it, don’t you?” Philipp replies. Per nods in agreement. “Alright, I’ll bet 100 Euros that they’ll get together some time in July.”

“That’s pretty vague, but you’re on,” Per says, and they shake on it.

Philipp turns the match back on and Per settles in to watch, but he ends up taking a nap. With Per asleep and most of the team gone, Philipp lets himself worry a little about his two friends. Per was right: the sick fucks in the media loved this sort of story and they would never allow Bastian and Lukas the benefit of playing the victims. There’s no doubt that they wouldn't hesitate to drag Monika, Louis, and Sarah into hell, too. The team has dealt with the media for years now, and it’s never really gotten any easier.

But even as he worries, Philipp can hear the laughter bubbling from Bastian as Lukas tells him another ridiculous joke. He stops watching the match again to observe his two friends fondly. Just looking at how bright their smiles are, how their eyes sparkle when they look at each other, makes Philipp reflect on the last ten years. He knows just how special this thing Lukas and Bastian have is, and as he watches just how happy they make each other, he thinks that maybe even with all the trouble it could potentially cause, it’s still worth it.

****

May 29, 2014 - Training Camp cont.

Everyone is very chatty and spirited at breakfast, and the team is scattered across the dining area. Erik is eagerly listening to Miro talking about his first World Cup in 2002, and Manuel and Thomas are simultaneously eating and playing FIFA on Manuel’s phone as Philipp watches disapprovingly. Marco, Mario, André, and Toni are eating together and laughing, and Mats is talking quietly to Julian and Benni. Mesut, Jerome, and Per are listening to Sami talking about his Champions League experience (Mesut looks a little wistful as he learns the details of his old club’s victory). Christoph and Shkodran have put on some music for everyone to listen to, and Bastian is attempting to teach Lukas how to drum along to the beat.

“You're holding the sticks totally wrong.” Bastian patiently takes the pretzel sticks out of Lukas' hands. “It’s gotta be comfortable, look.” He wraps his fingers around the sticks properly and holds his hands out for Lukas to see. “Now you try.”

Lukas takes the pretzel sticks and shoves them into his mouth. “Did it,” he grins through a mouth full of pretzel. Bastian shoves him lightly as Lukas laughs. “No, I’m serious, I held them right when I took them from you!”

“I can't believe it. I'm best friends with an idiot,” Bastian says.

Of course, Thomas manages to overhear them and he mutters to Manuel, “Just best friends? Yeah, right.”

****

Training feels more relaxed than usual somehow. It could be that Miro is currently in goal and everyone is taking turns shooting as hard as they can, laughing as Miro runs out of the way to avoid getting hit in the face every time.

“I have so much respect for you right now,” Miro calls out to Manuel. Then he jumps out of the way as Thomas kicks a particularly hard shot. “Thomas! I want to keep my head, if you don't mind!” Thomas just laughs his obnoxiously loud, yet somehow endearing laugh.

As they wait, Lukas jokes around with Per, Mesut, and Sami, so Bastian takes advantage of a rare moment to speak to Philipp alone. “Hey, Fips,” he says softly. Philipp smiles at him, so he continues, “It’s Lukas’ birthday soon, and I have no idea what to get him. It's kind of a big deal, our tenth year together and all, so I want it to be perfect.”

Phillip suddenly feels like Thomas might be 500 Euros richer very soon as he watches Bastian look at Lukas with what can only be described as heart eyes. “Oh my god, what am I, a love guru? I didn’t sign up for this,” he grumbles to himself. Then, because he loves Bastian as dearly as he would a brother, he says out loud, “You guys have so many inside jokes and memories, Basti, surely you can think of something.”

Bastian kicks at the grass. “But Fips, I can't give him memories. It has to be something amazing,” he says.

Philipp wants to say that he can think of a few amazing memories that Bastian can provide for Lukas, but he keeps quiet and thinks for a moment. “Isn't Poldi really into Formula One?”

“That's perfect!” Bastian hugs Philipp in excitement and starts rambling. “I'll get us tickets or something to the Grand Prix back at home. Maybe he can bring Louis along and we can just spend a few days watching the races. I know a few guys who can get us decent tickets. There's got to be something after the World Cup, unless we win of course, then that might be tricky to schedule. Usually there's a few weeks before we have to go back to our clubs. I can plan out a whole weekend. Oh my god, I have to get tickets now, what if they're sold out already?”

Philipp looks around. Nobody seems to really be doing anything productive (Marco’s in goal now, but he’s just fooling around with Mario instead of actually trying to stop anything). “I'll cover for you. Go get the tickets now.” Philipp knows it’s a risk, but Bastian is the vice captain, so he has some privilege.

“Are you sure?” Bastian asks, but it’s clearly just a formality because before Philipp can insist, Bastian is already jogging away. Philipp can see Lukas glancing his way, confused and concerned. Per places a hand on Lukas’ shoulder, reassuring him that Bastian is fine, but it doesn’t do much to ease Lukas’ worried expression. It’s obvious that Lukas can’t take it anymore because he runs off to follow his best friend before Philipp can call out to stop him.

“What's going on?” Per, Mesut, and Sami circle around Philipp. For a moment, Philipp is annoyed. He hates it when people, especially people like Per, gather around him, making his already meager 5’7” stature seem even smaller. But then he remembers that he’s more mature than all of them put together, and anyway, he’s their captain and he’s in charge, so Philipp shakes it off. Looking (up) at his teammates, Phillip quickly informs them of Basti’s planned trip for Lukas’ birthday.

“That's sweet,” Mesut says, smiling. “I planned a birthday trip with Mandy once.” His eyes get dreamy and the others watch, amused.

“You and Mandy have been dating for how long now?” Per raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Never mind that now,” Sami says. “The point is, it’s very clear that Lukas and Bastian are going to get together. It’s just a question of when, really.”

Miro, who has been quietly listening to the entire conversation from a few meters away, chooses this moment to clear his throat. Being the one true veteran on the team, he’s always had a lot of influence without really trying, so even though he’s not very loud, the entire team turns to listen to him. “Now, I know a lot of you have been making bets on Lukas and Basti’s impending relationship.” Everyone shuffles uncomfortably, unsure about whether they’re going to be reprimanded (except Thomas, because he knows that actually Miro doesn’t disapprove at all). “So, I’ll make a bet with all of you. If Lukas and Basti get together before the end of the World Cup, I owe every single one of you 50 Euros each. But if it happens after, which it will, you all owe me. And yes, Thomas, before you ask, this is in addition to the one we already made.” Thomas grumbles a little as everyone else nods, mostly in awe of Miro’s self-assurance.

“Are you sure you’ve got enough money, old man?” Mesut jokes. “You haven’t heard the way Lukas talked about Bastian when we were back in London.”

Miro smiles an all-knowing smile. “Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

****

“Basti?” Lukas pokes his head in the door of their room. Creases of confusion form in his forehead as he watches Bastian jump up and slam his laptop shut. Bastian looks at him wide-eyed and red-faced; a deer in headlights.  

“What are you doing here?” Bastian asks, wincing after he realizes how sharp the question had sounded.

“I was just worried. I thought something was wrong. You just ran off the pitch, Basti, you never do that.” Lukas closes the door behind him and crosses the room to sit next to Bastian on the bed. “Please tell me if something’s wrong.”

Bastian is touched to see how much Lukas cares about his well-being. He puts his arm around his friend. “I promise you, everything is alright. I just had to check something really quickly and my phone is dead.”

Lukas is relieved at first, but then he sees the laptop and remembers how hastily Bastian closed it, like he was hiding something. “So, what were you checking?” he asks carefully.

“Nothing that you have to worry your pretty head about,” Bastian chuckles. His smile seems forced. “Luki, I promise if something was wrong, you would be the first person to know.” Lukas is far from reassured, but he’s more caught up on the fact that Bastian just called him pretty.

“Pretty, huh? I don’t think I’m as pretty as you used to be with the bleached hair, what year was that? 2006?” Lukas teases, trying to ignore the way his heart is racing.

“Hey, your hair wasn’t much better when we met, what was it, 2004?” Bastian reminds him. “So much gel, Lukas, so much gel.”

“I was 19! Just a teenager trying to make his way in the world...” Lukas says dramatically before they both start laughing.

“Come on.” Bastian pulls Lukas up. “We should get back, pretty boy.” Lukas takes out his phone as they walk.

“Hang on, wait,” Lukas says. “I’m gonna post this picture on Facebook and ask everyone to caption it, let’s see what all the fans think is going on.” Bastian glances at the picture. It’s the two of them during training, Lukas jumping higher than Bastian and Bastian trying to push him. It’s a really nice action shot, Bastian thinks.

“Ugh,” Bastian says, squinting at the small screen, “Is my hair really getting that gray?”

“Don’t worry, you’re still beautiful to me, old man.” Lukas grins and ducks out of the way of Basti’s playful shove.

“We’ll see who’s the old man. Race you to the pitch!” Bastian takes off before Lukas can retort, leaving his friend to chase after him in faux anger.

****

Back at the pitch, Thomas’ phone lights up with a Facebook notification. Manuel gives him a weird look when he sees that it’s Lukas’ page and not his own.

“I’m keeping close tabs on my investment,” Thomas says. He opens it to see the picture. “God, look at this Manu, it’s like they’re not even trying anymore. Honestly, next thing you know, there’ll be a leaked sex tape.”

Manuel gags a little at the thought. The whistle sounds to bring the boys back to focus on practice (Jogi looks absolutely done with his team at this point because seriously, why are they all children?) and Manuel can’t look in Bastian and Lukas’ direction without wanting to shoot Thomas for the mental images that pop into his head.

“Pssst, Mario!” Thomas whispers very loudly. Marco automatically turns his head with a look of suspicion on his face and Thomas rolls his eyes at him. “Calm down, I’m not trying to steal your man, honestly, who’d have thought you’d be the jealous type. I just wanna make Mario feel at home. You see Mario, to be truly a part of this family, you must place a bet. 100 Euros for Lukas and Basti getting together within two months.”

“I never made any bets,” Marco mutters under his breath and Mario pats his arm reassuringly before he leans over to Thomas.

“Alright, you’re on,” Mario says, and Thomas grins as they shake hands.

Chapter Text

May 31, 2014 - Flight to Düsseldorf

Everyone is excited to finally be able to play in a match, and there is a lot of chatter during the plane ride. The younger players are especially animated, knowing that their performance tomorrow will determine whether or not they will make the journey to Brazil. Spirits are generally high, as they tend to be on days before matches.

Despite the noise, Thomas is unusually quiet, which is at first a source of relief for pretty much everyone, but then becomes slightly worrisome. Eventually, Miro’s concern grows too strong and Erik, tired of Miro’s excessive worried glances, makes him go check on Thomas. “What’s the matter, Mülli?” he asks softly when he reaches Thomas’ seat.

“I miss Manu,” Thomas says, pouting a little. “I can’t have fun if Manu isn’t here, too.” The latter is news to Miro, but the former is completely expected. Thomas would never admit it, but Miro knows that Thomas absolutely adores the goalkeeper and looks up to him as a brother for everything.

“Why don’t you take a nap instead, Thomas? Rest is never a bad thing,” Miro says. He realizes the best thing to do in this situation is to avoid mentioning Thomas’ absent best friend.

“Can I use you as a pillow, Opa?” Thomas looks up like a sad puppy. “Manu was my pillow.”

Miro sighs and sits down next to Thomas. “Here you go, kiddo. Rest up so you can score a goal tomorrow.”

“Do you really think I’ll score?” Thomas mumbles sleepily, his eyes already starting to close.

“I know you're going to score,” Miro assures him, stroking the younger man’s hair fondly. “You always do.”

Thomas yawns and snuggles into Miro’s shoulder. With nothing else to do, Miro quietly observes the rest of the team. He sees the bright, young faces of Julian, Matthias, Erik, Shkodran, Christoph, Mario, André, and Kevin Volland, all so excited to have the opportunity to potentially experience the magic of representing the national team at the World Cup. It’s times like this where Miro reflects on the amazing future that Germany will undoubtedly have in the hands of these new players. His eyes travel over to the players who played four years ago, but really aren’t all that old themselves. Mesut, Sami, Toni, Jerome, Thomas, of course, and even Manuel, could really be considered youngsters too.

And then there’s the so-called Golden Generation, the ones who’ve been around since 2006; Per, Philipp, Bastian, Lukas, and himself. Not for the first time, Miro wonders why he’s always grouped with the other four when they’re so much younger, so much more talented, so much more important. He’s really just the old veteran who’s been around since 2002. Sometimes he feels guilty that Jogi continues to call him up, because yes, it would be a dream come true to break Gerd Müller’s record, and yes, beating Ronaldo’s World Cup goal tally would be remarkable, but is that worth leaving out a young and potentially valuable asset to the team? Maybe it's time for me to retire, Miro thinks, the idea of it bittersweet.

He shakes off these thoughts when he hears soft laughter coming from a few rows behind. Miro doesn’t need to look to know it’s Lukas and Bastian, he’s known them for so long. When he does turn and glance at them, he sees them bent over Lukas’ phone, probably playing FIFA, their foreheads nearly touching as they lean into each other. “Basti, stop it!” Lukas complains, but his smile ruins any chance of him looking annoyed. “I could have scored there!”

“I’m just trying to help, Luki,” Bastian says with a grin. “I can’t help it if you’re no good at playing as me.” It’s such a familiar scene, and it warms Miro’s heart to see that even after ten long years, with so much change surrounding them, Lukas and Bastian have remained the same. He wonders whether or not they'll finally be able to find the courage to make the change that everyone is betting on. Even with the amount of adrenaline surging through them if they do win the World Cup, it will still take a tremendous amount of bravery for either one of them to admit to himself that there is something more to their relationship. But, Miro thinks, if anyone can do it, it’s them.

****

June 1, 2014 - Match vs Cameroon, Mönchengladbach

Match days are always a production, Jogi knows, especially because the team is the way it is. (He often asks himself what he did to deserve a team consisting entirely of overgrown children.)

“I’m hungry,” Thomas whines as he pulls on clean socks in the locker room. “Does anyone have food?”

“We just had lunch, Mülli. Besides, if you eat any more, you’ll throw up. Now, make sure you tuck in your undershirt, it’s always sticking out. And please, for the love of god, pull your socks higher.” Per is next to him, jogging in place, ready to go.

“You’re so much bossier with that stupid band on,” Thomas says, wrinkling his nose in annoyance. “Worse than Fips, even.”

Per fidgets with the captain's band nervously. Usually, with Philipp away, Bastian would be the one with the band around his arm, but he's still considered unfit to play, so the responsibility has fallen to Per. To say that he's nervous would be an understatement. Nevertheless, Per is prepared to lead the team and, if necessary, occasionally feed them.

“Say you love me more than Fips and I'll give you a chocolate bar,” Per jokes.

“I will love you more than Lisa if you have food right now.” Thomas dramatically clutches at his stomach. “I could eat a horse right now.”

“Don’t let Lisa hear you say that,” Per says with a laugh as he hands Thomas a large bar of chocolate. Thomas is too busy gnawing at the bar to respond.

“Alright, guys,” Jogi shouts, standing on a bench. “Remember, the fact that this is officially a friendly means nothing. Today, you’re going to prove to me why you deserve to come to Brazil with us.”

In one of the corners of the room, Toni leans in and whispers to Jerome, “Do you think he’s gonna talk about the game being like a persuasive essay again?” Jerome shushes him, but the corner of his mouth is curling into a smile.

“Think of this match like the conclusion of a persuasive essay,” Jogi continues, and Toni and Jerome cover their mouths to smother their laughter. “The previous friendlies were the introduction, training camp was the body, and now you’re driving the argument home today.” Everyone nods in agreement. (They’re also confused about why Jogi always insists on using the persuasive essay metaphor.) “Okay, so let’s go out there and play!” The team cheers and heads out into the tunnel with Per at the front of the chaotic line.

****

Watching matches from the bench is possibly more frustrating than actually playing in them, simply because one sees everything happening without being able to do anything about it. Miro, sitting next to Lukas, is forced to listen to him exasperatedly complain to Bastian about every single tackle in the scrappy first half.

“Oi, are they trying to kill Toni or what?” Lukas gestures wildly at the field in discontent.

“Poldi, he’s got a yellow card, calm down,” Bastian says, smiling fondly at his friend’s indignance.

And then a few minutes later, Lukas is out of his seat again. “HEY, they can’t tackle Sami, he’s still recovering!”

“Lukas, that’s part of the game, it can’t be helped.” Bastian pats Lukas’ hand to soothe him. “Sami will be fine, I promise.”

“Ugh, I can’t watch,” Lukas moans a bit later. “Jerome, what are you doing?”

“Shh, now he’s got a yellow card, he’ll be more cautious,” Bastian says patiently. After all these years, he is more than used to Lukas’ excessive ranting during matches, and he knows exactly how to deal with it.

At halftime, Jogi stands on his bench again, peering at the players disappointedly. “So, basically, right now, this essay’s conclusion is looking crappy,” he informs them. “Fix it.”

The beginning of the second half is much better and the players on the bench start to relax a little. Mario comes off, giving André some encouragement on the way out, but not looking too happy about his own performance. But just a few minutes later, after a bit of chaos, Cameroon somehow gets the ball in the back of the net. Jogi just sighs while Lukas looks very determined as he prepares himself to go on, which he does a couple minutes later, bringing Mesut off.

When Thomas equalizes with an enthusiastic header off a gorgeous cross from Jerome, Jogi shows no emotion at all, which is not new to anyone. Miro, on the other hand, feels a great amount of pride, because Thomas reminds him so much of himself in his old glory days.

“Doesn’t ever pull up his socks, though, does he?” Bastian remarks after applauding the goal.

“Well, as long as he keeps the scoring up, I doubt it matters much,” Miro says with a grin.

Minutes later, the German bench is on its feet in delight. “What a finish from André!” Mario cheers.

“Yeah, but that was such an amazing run from Lukas!” Bastian says proudly. “He’s just so good, isn’t he?” Mario resists the urge to roll his eyes at Bastian’s clear adoration for Lukas. Even he and Marco aren’t so obvious (probably).

“I think he might have been offside, actually,” Miro says, but Bastian isn’t paying attention anymore because he’s watching Lukas with an enamored expression on his face.

The rest of the match flies by, with Cameroon claiming an admittedly impressive equalizer. In the locker room, Jogi gathers the players to give a final speech. “Now remember, my decisions tomorrow aren’t meant to be a bad reflection on any of you. You are all extremely talented, and if I could, I would just bring all of you along. Obviously, that’s impossible, but I just want all of you to know that I’m only doing what I believe to be best for the team, and none of you should think you’re not good enough.” It’s possibly the nicest speech Jogi has ever given, and everyone smiles gratefully at his words.

****

On the bus back to the hotel, Bastian tells Lukas, “You played so well out there, Luki. Not bad for an old man. Looks like you haven’t lost your touch.”

Lukas gives him an incredulous look. “If I’m old, then you’re ancient, silly. You’re older than me, remember?”

“Whatever, you’re still turning 29 soon,” Bastian says.

“You remember my birthday? That’s so sweet,” Lukas replies with a grin.  

Thomas interrupts their banter with a loud, “Hey, you two, stop flirt-” Miro slaps his hand over Thomas’ mouth and glares at him. Thomas pulls away and clears his throat. “I mean, we’re here, it’s time to get off.” Bastian and Lukas are the first ones off the bus, racing each other back to their room, laughing and shouting like they’re back at their first World Cup in 2006.

****

June 4, 2014 - Bus to Mainz and Lukas’ Birthday

“LUKAS, WAKE UP!” Bastian shouts cheerfully. He bounces on the bed like a 5-year-old. “Poldi, come on, you gotta get up!”

Lukas groans into his pillow. “What do you want Basti, I’m trying to sleep.”

“You can’t sleep now, it’s a very special day!” Bastian can barely contain his glee.

“Why, because we’re travelling again?” Lukas is in no mood for conversation.

“No, idiot,” Bastian says fondly, “it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, Luki!” He starts singing “Happy Birthday” at the top of his lungs.

Lukas squints at the sunlight pouring in through the window. “It’s too early for this,” he grumbles.

“Come on, old man, live a little,” Bastian says.

“Still younger than you,” Lukas reminds him, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bastian waves his hand carelessly. “But come on, I’ve already let you sleep an extra hour because it’s your birthday. We’re leaving soon.”

“Aw, how thoughtful of you,” Lukas says with a smirk, and Bastian throws a pillow at him.

“Shut up, I packed your stuff too,” Bastian says. “And let me tell you, your clothes were literally scattered everywhere in this room. Look, I even folded them.” Lukas stops stretching to look at his friend, surprised.

“You did that for me? Really?” he asks, feeling a little guilty now because he knows he actually did leave quite a mess. Bastian nods in response. “Wow, you really are feeling nice today, aren’t you?” Lukas tries to act casual, but he knows Bastian can see how grateful he really is.

“Come on, Prinz Poldi, take a shower, get dressed.” Bastian claps his friend on the back. “Leave your clothes by the door and I’ll put them away.”

Lukas looks down. He really is only wearing his boxer briefs since he’s been sharing a bed with the human heater. “There really isn’t much for you to put away,” he jokes. “I can just wear this again anyways.”

Bastian wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, you’re such a slob. Clean underwear please, Luki, at least on your birthday.” Lukas complains a little more, but he eventually gives in to Bastian’s wishes.

Halfway through his shower, he hears Bastian open the door.  “I’m going to go get something. I left some clothes on the bed for you, okay?” Bastian says over the sound of running water. The door shuts again before Lukas can thank him.

When the water starts to get cold and his skin begins to wrinkle, Lukas steps out of the shower and heads to the room. Bastian really did lay out an outfit on the bed and both their bags are packed neatly in the corner of the room. There's even a small tray of breakfast on the dresser. Lukas mutters a thank you to the empty air. Just as he drops the towel from around his waist and picks up clean underwear, the door opens and Bastian walks in with a small gift box in his hands.

"Oh ummm, sorry. I thought you'd be done by now." Bastian blushes and tries to avert his eyes, except he can't seem to control them.

Lukas shrugs, but he feels his ears turn red too. They've seen each other naked plenty of times, it's something that can't be helped in the locker rooms. Plus, they've shared a room for nearly ten years now and there is no reason for either one of them to care enough to be embarrassed or surprised.

Why the hell am I fucking red? Bastian thinks, slightly angry at himself. He stares at Lukas and stutters, "I-umm-I went to go wrap this for you. A small gift."

Lukas smiles at the small box and quickly throws his underwear on. Bastian places the gift on the bed for Lukas to open. He sits down next to the clothes, careful not to wrinkle them in the process. Lukas looks at the box, wrapped expertly in gold paper with a red bow placed on top. Curiosity gets the best of him and he decides to open his gift before putting on the rest of his clothes. He tears the paper off and throws it on the ground, eager to see what Bastian had gotten him. Bastian's gifts are always his favorite, though he would never admit it to anyone else. Inside the box is an envelope with "to Lukas" scrawled on it. It's just the card, Lukas assumes, but he doesn't find anything else in the box and he feels slightly disappointed.

Bastian sees Lukas' face fall and he panics. "Was the box too much? The gift is really just in the envelope. Sorry, I thought it would be weird if I just handed you the envelope," he rambles.

"Basti, it's fine, please stop worrying yourself." Lukas opens the envelope and two tickets fall out of a homemade birthday card. He picks up the tickets and reads the print on them. His mouth drops open when he realizes what Bastian has done for him. "Oh my god, oh my god, thank you thank you thank you, I love you so much, this is perfect." Lukas hugs Bastian tightly.

Bastian grins, ignoring how his heart skipped a beat at Lukas’ sudden declaration of love. "It was Fips’ idea, really. I thought it would be nice if we spent the day together watching Formula One since you love it so much."

Lukas squeezes Bastian again. "This is the best gift ever, thank you so much."

Bastian feels himself turning red again. "Yeah, yeah, it's no big deal. Hurry up and get dressed. We're leaving soon."

Lukas puts the tickets back in the envelope, silently reminding himself to read the card later, then gets dressed.

What neither man has realized is that Bastian had forgotten to close the door after walking in on Lukas. Thomas is pressed against the wall, listening to everything happening in the room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Thomas jumps at the sound of the voice behind him. “You’re spying on them?” Thomas spins around to find Manuel glowering at him. Thomas opens his mouth to defend himself when Manuel continues, “And you’re doing it without me? Some friend you are.” He looks so upset about it that Thomas leaps into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Manu, I promise next time I’ll tell you, please don’t be mad at me?” he pleads, afraid that his friend will hold a grudge. As it so happens, Manuel can’t really stay mad at Thomas for very long anyway, but before he can tell Thomas it’s okay, Mario, Marco, Erik, Matthias, Mats, Benni, and Julian all walk past, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Thomas and Manuel get some weird looks from their teammates, but mostly everyone has come to expect seeing the duo in odd situations, so no one comments on how Thomas has practically climbed Manuel like a tree.

Once they’ve passed, Manuel pats Thomas reassuringly on the back to let him know he’s not mad anymore, and Thomas excitedly fills Manuel in on everything he overheard from Lukas and Bastian’s room.

“He was naked, Manu! Totally and completely naked when Basti walked in,” Thomas practically squeals.

“I mean, we’ve seen each other naked plenty of times,” Manuel says matter-of-factly. “Everyone has.”

Thomas waves his argument away. “Yeah, but you don’t stutter like an idiot every time you see a team member’s bare ass.”

Manuel shrugs. “I mean, Miro has a pretty nice ass for a man of his age.” Someone clears their throat behind him, and he grins. “Let me guess, he’s standing right behind me.”

“Not that I’m not flattered, Manu,” Miro smirks, “but maybe you shouldn’t be having your conversation in the middle of the hallway where everyone on the team can hear you?” Miro’s eyes widen when he notices that the door to Lukas and Bastian’s room is cracked open. “Are you two eavesdropping?”

“....No,” Manuel and Thomas say together, very unconvincingly, and Miro rolls his eyes.

“You two are unbelievable. Don’t let Fips or Jogi catch you like this unless you want a lecture. Honestly, don’t you guys have anything better to do? Like packing? The bus literally leaves in fifteen minutes.” He turns and walks towards the elevator, muttering something like, “Can’t believe those actual children,” under his breath.

****

With everyone finally ready, the bus roars away from the hotel, half an hour behind schedule (and no one is actively blaming Thomas and Manuel, but they all know it was Thomas and Manu). Thomas tries to start a round of singing, but he’s immediately shut up by an extremely aggravated Philipp. Julian, Matthias, and Erik don’t bother hiding their laughter at Thomas’ disgruntled expression. Thomas retaliates a few seconds later by launching into a highly detailed explanation of how horses run and jump.

Taking advantage of the distraction that Thomas is providing, Lukas discreetly slips Bastian’s card out of his bag. The front of the card is a collage of pictures they’ve taken together, one picture for every year that they’ve known each other. Mein Hase is written in beautiful cursive across the top and Lukas ignores how hard his heart starts pounding at that. You call each other that all the time, he reminds himself.

My dear Lukas, the card reads, Happy Birthday! I still remember the first time we met when we were just stupid teenagers. You’ve grown up so much, we’ve grown up so much, since then. I hope you know that you’re one of the most important people in my life, and you have been for a very long time. It’s difficult, sometimes, with you in London and me in Munich, but I am so glad our friendship has stayed strong for all these years. Hopefully, we can keep growing old together because honestly, I really don’t know what I’d do without you! Yours as always, Basti

Lukas reads and rereads the letter several times, willing himself not to tear up. As Thomas’ horse stories come to an end, Lukas shoves the card back into his bag, making sure not to wrinkle it.

“Hey, why are you so quiet?” Bastian turns away from Thomas and nudges his best friend.

“Nothing,” Lukas says, smiling softly. “Just, you’re an awesome friend. I hope you know that.”

“Of course I know,” Bastian says with a laugh, but it’s only to cover how touched he is by Lukas’ seemingly random confession. “Hey, I know, I’ll make a Facebook post!” Lukas gives him a weird look. “For your birthday, silly! I have to do something.” He shuffles through the side pocket of his backpack to find his phone. “Smile!” But Lukas opts to make his trademark fist instead, and the camera captures Bastian mid-laugh.

“I like it,” Lukas says. “Really sums up our friendship, doesn’t it?”

Bastian grins and opens up Facebook. For a moment, he’s tempted to write something long and meaningful, but then, he thinks of something even better, an undeniable truth. Without you football would not be the same.

Behind them, Thomas’ phone buzzes with a notification. “Oh my god, Manu,” he says in a hushed tone. “You’re not gonna believe this. He might as well propose tomorrow.”

“This is practically a declaration of love,” Manuel agrees. “He even included Poldi’s stupid little #aha.”

Thomas continues gleefully, “Lisa was talking about getting a new horse to train. I should have more than enough money by the time the World Cup is over to get her two!”

****

June 5, 2014 - Training Day

“Lukas! Lukas!” Bastian shouts as he runs into the dining hall. Everyone’s heads turn in confusion, sleepily trying to figure out the source of the noise. “Guess what?”

“What, Basti?” Lukas looks up at his friend, trying to figure out how he can be so energetic at eight in the morning.

“Yeah, what do you need to be screaming your head off this early in the morning for?” Per grumbles from next to Lukas.

“They cleared me! I get to play next match! I’m officially useful to the team again,” Bastian says, beaming.

All the sleepiness seems to clear from Lukas’ face as his face splits into a wide grin. He jumps up from his seat and wraps Bastian in a tight hug. “Oh my god, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah, real delightful,” Per says with a snort, still upset about the loudness of his two teammates (because the big friendly giant is really only friendly after 9:30 am). Benni pats him on the back in an attempt to console him.

“Oi, don’t be such a killjoy,” Lukas says with a laugh. “At least you don’t have to take care of the 5-year old tomorrow, Philipp gets to deal with that.”

Per just stabs at his waffle in response. Bastian and Lukas saunter off to get ready for training. Once they’re gone, Benni leans in and asks Per, “Has Thomas made any bets with you yet?”

“What? No,” Per says, still grumpy. “I’ve only made bets with Philipp and Mesut.”

“Can you believe he bet me 200 Euros that they’ll get together in July? That kid has a serious addiction,” Benni says, rolling his eyes fondly. “Just watch, he’ll be after you next.”

Per shakes his head. “He’s either going to be really rich or really broke by the end of this.”

****

Lukas dominates the training session. It’s as if knowing that Bastian is fully recovered gives him an extra spark.

“Play like that tomorrow and we’ll definitely win,” Jogi says, grudgingly offering Lukas a rare compliment.

“Wow, a compliment from Jogi, it’s like a late birthday present!” Mesut says. “Wait, what’s that crowd over there?”

Lukas shrugs, clearly disinterested. Mesut suspects it’s because Bastian isn’t anywhere near the group, but he’s curious, so he heads over to find out. “What’s going on?” he whispers to Sami.

“Lukas posted two more selfies with Basti.” Sami shakes his head kind of disbelievingly. “Thomas is just making a scene of it. Although you have to wonder what else they did while walking here together.” He says it jokingly, but suddenly, both Sami and Mesut think about how Lukas and Bastian had insisted on walking together, without the rest of the team.

“Have you seen them yet?” Thomas butts his way into the conversation. “Well, here they are. Lukas and Bastian are officially crazy.”

Mesut replies quietly so only Sami can hear. “Looks like they’re not the only ones, though.” But even he has to admit, while the first picture is nothing out of the ordinary, the second one is pretty questionable.

“Why is Basti in the picture if it’s Lukas’ friend from Cologne?” Sami wonders aloud.

“It’s because Lukas and Bastian are too obsessed with each other to leave each other alone with other people for more than two seconds,” Thomas says matter-of-factly. “Why do you think they wanted to walk here alone, with just the two of them?” Sami and Mesut can’t do anything but shrug because for once, Thomas has a valid point.

****

June 6, 2014 - Match vs Armenia, Mainz

The atmosphere in the bus on the way to the match is calm and relaxed. Jogi has warned the team time and time again to never underestimate any opponent, but they’re young and they often make that mistake anyway. In the locker room, there’s a bit more energy and Jogi decides that it’s enough to get them through this match. He stands on his bench as usual and gives them a speech.

“Okay, guys, this is the last match before Brazil. This is the match where we show the world what we’re capable of. It’s like an audition.” He pauses and thinks about it for a moment. “Well, not really I guess, because we’ve already qualified.” Toni and Jerome can’t stop laughing at Jogi’s continued use of odd metaphors. “It’s really more like a job interview, but like, the final one after you’ve basically already got the job,” Jogi rambles on. Even Hansi, standing behind him, has to stifle a laugh at Jogi’s confusion. “Okay, whatever, you all get what I’m saying, right?”

“Great speech, coach, really inspiring,” Thomas says with a wide grin. Jogi glares at him, cursing the fact that Thomas is too good to leave out of the lineup.

“Thomas, that was rude,” Miro scolds him. “Apologize.”

“Sorry, Jogi,” Thomas says, pouting slightly. “The speech was actually just alright. Mediocre.”

“Maybe you should just stop before Jogi decides that you're not actually that important,” Jerome jokes, ruffling Thomas’ hair. “And also, what’s with your socks? You know they’re supposed to reach your knees, right?”

****

“What’s the matter, Miro?” Lukas asks. He had noticed Miro looking very worried during the national anthem and he’s a little concerned.

“I just have this feeling that something horrible is going to happen today,” Miro says quietly. “And I don’t like it at all.”

“It’s just a feeling, yeah? We should try to be optimistic.” Lukas tries to cheer him up, but Miro has an eerie tendency to be right about these things.

The first half is almost unbearably dull. The team’s passing is great, but they’re not doing anything with it, not creating many chances. Thomas falling down is possibly the most interesting thing that happens. The subs actually start warming up without being asked, just to have something to do. And then, just like that, tragedy strikes.

Mario is the first one to fly out of his seat and the referee motions for him to stay at the sideline. He’s gazing in horror at the man who's lying on the ground, writhing in pain. Miro hadn’t even seen what had happened, but once he sees who it is, he understands. It’s Marco, and the injury looks serious. Mario's eyes are wide, and he looks like he's about to start crying, looks like he’s in as much pain as Marco. Mesut immediately reaches out and wraps his arm around the younger man’s shoulders, both to comfort him and keep him from running to Marco's side. Eventually, Mario stops struggling in Mesut's arms and simply leans against Mesut to stop himself from collapsing. André is on the pitch, desperately trying to console Marco, but when he glances over at the bench, at Mario, the devastation on his face lets them all know that this isn’t a minor injury.

Jogi looks more solemn than they’ve ever seen him as he signals for Lukas to get ready to go on. Lukas does so quickly, trying not to look at the field, because he doesn’t want to watch poor Marco hopping on one foot, having to be helped off the pitch. He can hear Manuel murmuring uncertainly to Bastian, “He’ll be okay, won’t he?” and Bastian’s soft, worry-filled, “I don’t know, Manu. I really don’t know.” When Lukas runs on for the final seconds of the first half, he’s not filled with the usual joy at being able to play, because his teammate, his brother, is hurt.

The locker room at halftime is deathly silent. Everyone is sitting wordlessly with stunned expressions on their faces. Mario in particular looks especially lost. Various team members have tried going up to him, but he's just stayed in the same position, his head in his hands. His baby face has always made him look younger than 22, but now, Mario looks as young and helpless as a toddler. He had lost all control of himself when the whistle blew, demanding to see Marco immediately, only to be reminded that players aren’t allowed in medical until after the match. André has his arm around his friend, but neither one is anywhere near consoled.

Jogi walks in and takes a good look at their dejected faces. He doesn’t bother to stand on the bench when he says, “You better win this one for him.”

They all feel more empowered when they run back onto the field. Almost immediately, their passing has improved and they all feel more focused. There's an extra spark in everyone's eyes now and they play with the sort of passion that completely opposes the commentators' nickname for them, the “German machine.”

Just seven minutes in, Lukas makes a lovely run and crosses the ball where André is there to hit it into the net with the back of his heel. Minutes later, Bastian is subbed on, but things are calmer after that much-needed goal.

Kevin clumsily gives up a penalty, which only frustrates the team more. But Lukas isn’t having that and just a short time later, he receives a pass from Mesut and smashes it in the goal. Bastian runs over to give him a high five and a whispered, “You still got it, old man,” at which Lukas grins widely.

Once the floodgates are open, the goals keep coming. Two minutes later, Bastian crosses the ball in for Benni to head it at the goalie and chest it in on the rebound. As they celebrate, Lukas’ eyes meet Bastian’s and he beams as he mouths, “Looks like you still got it too, old man.”

Mario comes on for André and everyone feels a little nervous because the poor boy still looks absolutely distraught, and yet at the same time, fiercely determined. And then two minutes after that, Lukas gets yet another assist and Miro breaks a record. “You’ve done it, Miro!” Lukas cheers in celebration when Miro runs over to him. “69 goals! You’re a legend!” Miro just holds on, because he doesn’t feel like a legend. When Bastian runs over, he apparently only has eyes for Lukas, because he only pats Lukas’ head and not Miro’s. (Miro fights the urge to roll his eyes because it’s a goal celebration, goddamn it.)

When Mario scores off a great between-the-legs pass from Lukas, no one is surprised. He doesn’t celebrate the way the others did, but he notes how Bastian gives Lukas a high five before giving him one. (It reminds him of himself and Marco, though, and he immediately stops thinking about it.) Right at the end, he scores another after a chaotic few seconds in the box, and Miro pulls him in for a hug. “You did it. For him,” he says quietly.

“For Marco,” Mario agrees softly, ignoring the crowd cheering his name. “My Marco.”

****

Germany wins the match, but it doesn’t feel like much of a victory. Everyone who celebrates does so rather half-heartedly. Mario rushes straight to medical without a word, with André trailing behind him for moral support.

“So, Man of the Match, huh, Poldi?” Bastian asks with a smirk as he sits next to Lukas.

“Shut up,” Lukas retorts, but he’s smiling too.

“Hey, you were amazing, you deserve it,” Bastian says, serious this time.

“Thanks Basti,” Lukas says, but his smile fades a second later. “I’m just worried about Marco.”

“We all are,” Bastian says glumly. "Though, Mario is worrying me too, poor kid."

“André will take care of him, I’m sure,” Lukas says. “It just makes you think, though, doesn’t it? I mean, it could have happened to anyone. To me, or -” he takes a deep breath - “to you. It’s scary to think about. I don't think Mesut would be enough to keep me from running onto the field.”

“It’s an occupational hazard, Luki.” Bastian smiles wistfully. “We just have to accept that it happens.”

André chooses this moment to walk back in, looking truly defeated. Everyone holds their breath to hear the news (and they all know what it is but they need to hear it anyway). “He’s. He can’t.” He seems incapable of finishing the statement, but they all know what he means. Marco isn’t coming with them to Brazil.

****

June 7-8, 2014 - Flight to Brazil

“Jesus Christ, is all of this really necessary?” Lukas groans as he hauls Bastian’s bag into the compartment above their seats. “What did you pack in here?”

“Some books, my laptop, a jacket, and stuff for my knee,” Bastian says as he lowers himself into his seat, “and of course a few bricks just for you.”

Lukas is too worried to laugh at the joke. “Are you sure your knee is feeling better?”

Bastian rolls his eyes. Lukas worries more than his mother. “The physios said I’d be fine. I played yesterday and I'll be able to play in Brazil, Luki, don’t worry about me.”

“Sorry, Basti, it’s my job to worry about the old men. Right, Miro?” Miro happens to be passing by their row.

“What?” Miro glances at them. Lukas just waves him away and laughs. Miro sighs and turns, only to be pulled into the seat next to Erik. Suddenly, there’s a shout of happiness and a hard kick to the back of Lukas’ seat.

“Fuck.” Lukas gives Bastian a look before turning around to confirm his fear.

“Hey Poldi.” Thomas grins widely at them from his seat. “Manu and I will be sitting behind you guys if that's okay.” Lukas rolls his eyes, knowing that neither he nor Bastian really have any choice in the matter.

“That’s fine, Thomas, just keep your stallion videos to yourself,” Bastian says, “because let me tell you now, no one wants to watch them with you.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that Manu always watches them with me,” Thomas argues. Lukas and Bastian both give him a look.

“We’re soul brothers,” Manuel says solemnly. They wait for him to elaborate, but apparently, that’s all the information he's is willing to give.

“Um, okay,” Lukas says. “We’ll just leave you, uh, ‘soul brothers’ alone then.” When both he and Bastian have turned back around, Lukas whispers, “Are those two for real?”

“Believe me, this is nothing compared to what they’re like at Bayern. They once told Pep some story about how their brotherly connection helps them play better, and now he always lets them room together,” Bastian whispers back. Lukas fights the urge to laugh at that, because honestly, if he didn’t know them, he could easily be convinced that Thomas and Manuel actually are brothers.

“Secrets aren’t fun!” Thomas calls out to them. “What are you lovebi- I mean, silly people, talking about?” Manuel rolls his eyes at the horrible cover up, but luckily, neither Lukas nor Bastian seems to notice the slip up.

“Mülli, it’s none of your concern,” Manuel says, loudly enough for the other two to hear. Then lowering his voice, he adds, “If you keep this up, you’re going to lose your bet with Toni and Jerome.” Thomas pouts at him and Manuel ruffles his friend’s hair. “Just try and stay calm, silly, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Hey, Manu, do you wanna make a bet?” Thomas asks excitedly.

Manuel immediately shakes his head. “Hell no. The last time I got caught up in your bets, I’m pretty sure I lost half my storage of Nutella.”

Thomas smirks. “Alright, whatever you want. But remember, it’ll be your fault when I’m significantly richer than you at the end of this thing.”

“Well, I never said I won’t bet at all,” Manuel points out. “You’re too good at betting, so I won’t take the risk. Someone like Benni, on the other hand…” He trails off and identical grins spread across the two friends’ faces as Thomas realizes Manuel’s plan.

“Brilliant!” he says, sounding awed. “I’ve already made a bet with him. Benni won’t even know what hit him when you join too!”

As the soul brothers quietly plan the financial downfall of poor Benni, Bastian leans his head on Lukas’ shoulder, snuggling up to his friend before promptly falling asleep. Lukas feels Bastian’s hair tickle at his chin and smiles as Bastian lets out a soft snore. He can’t help but feel his heart swell at the way Bastian’s features seem to de-age when he sleeps. Lukas is reminded of the first time they met in 2004 and how it just seemed so perfect. Everything just clicked. There was no awkward introductory stage followed by a drunken bonding night at the bar. It was immediate and absolute.  Maybe it was (is) love. Yet the thought of it being a romantic, love at first sight, sort of bond makes Lukas uneasy. He loves Monika, but Bastian is his brother. How can he love a brother like that? But he's not my brother and I might. I think I just might really love him, Lukas thinks as he runs his fingers through Bastian's hair. He shakes his head and corrects himself, no, I don’t, I can’t.

Lukas looks around with the sudden irrational fear that someone could hear his thoughts. He spies Mario and André sitting together. Mario looks utterly lost, and Lukas suddenly recalls the plane ride to Düsseldorf. Mario and Marco had been sitting together, as usual, with Mario leaning against Marco the same way Bastian is leaning against Lukas now. The two had been talking softly, never looking away from each other, and Mario’s hand had reached for Marco’s, intertwining their fingers. Lukas blushes when he realizes how much they had resembled him and Bastian. Behind him, Thomas tries to lean on Manuel for a nap, but Manuel is attempting to take his own nap and shoves him away. This is the type of relationship they have, and they call themselves “soul brothers,” so what does make Marco and Mario? Or me and Basti, Lukas thinks to himself.

He shakes his head free of the confusing thoughts and spends the rest of the trip listening to music. When they land, Lukas shifts in order to gently shake Bastian awake, but then he gets an idea. He slowly slides out of his seat and, pulling out his phone, he takes a picture of himself next to Bastian’s sleeping form and promptly posts it on Instagram.

Of course, just a few seconds later, Thomas kicks their chairs and shouts gleefully, “HEY, BASTI, WE’RE HERE!” Poor Bastian jolts awake and looks around sleepily for the source of the commotion. The rest of the team looks slightly disgruntled at all the noise, but everyone is pretty much resigned to Thomas’ antics by now. Several seats away, Miro turns and apparently silently berates Thomas with a look, because Thomas immediately looks sheepish and hides behind Manu’s taller figure.

“Sorry about that Basti, but we actually are here,” Lukas says softly. “You want me to carry anything for you?” Bastian shakes his head, but Lukas insists, and Bastian gives him an adoring smile in return.

Behind them, Manuel is forced to clap a hand over Thomas’ mouth before Lukas and Bastian can hear him mockingly singing love songs at them. When he finally removes his hand, Thomas hisses, “Quick, check my phone, we have to ridicule the selfie.”

Manuel takes out the phone (he’s been keeping it safe for Thomas, as usual), and they spend a good few minutes laughing at it together as the team shuffles out of the plane.

****

The team takes a ferry to Campo Bahia in Santo Andre. The day is bright and sunny, and Brazil is really a beautiful country. Everyone is absorbing the sights and sounds, exclaiming in delight when they see an interesting bird in the sky or some fish in the water around them. After being cooped up in an airplane for so long, the open air has raised the entire team’s spirits. In fact, Thomas had been so rowdy upon boarding the ferry that poor Christoph was nearly knocked overboard. As a result, Jogi assigned Per the task of managing Thomas, deeming Manuel too irresponsible (and Philipp had adamantly refused when consulted about it).

Elsewhere on the boat, Lukas and Bastian are standing together and admiring the brilliant Brazilian scenery. Manuel walks up to them just as they’re about to take a picture. “Hey guys, what are you up to?”

“This fool keeps insisting on taking selfies,” Bastian says. Manuel can’t see Bastian’s eyes through his sunglasses, but he's almost completely sure that Bastian is looking at Lukas with intense heart eyes.

“Hey, I have to inform the fans about what’s going on!” Lukas defends himself. “Come on Manu, you can be in it too.”

“Really?” Manuel asks, slightly surprised.

“Of course, you don’t think we’d just leave you out, do you?” Bastian says incredulously. He wraps his arm around Lukas’ shoulders as Lukas raises his arm and takes the picture.

“Perfect! I’ll put it on Facebook,” Lukas says proudly. Manuel can see how Bastian is watching Lukas and knows the heart eyes have returned, so he excuses himself.

On the other side of the boat, Per jumps a little when Thomas’ phone, which Manuel has entrusted to him, vibrates with a notification. “Lemme see, Per!” Thomas snatches the phone from Per and lets a gigantic grin spread across his face at the image on the screen. “Look at this. It’s absolutely ridiculous.”

Per takes one look and has to agree with his friend. “He’s basically cropped Manu out!” he points out unnecessarily.

“And there’s a video on Instagram too. Oh my god.” Thomas shoves the phone back into Per’s hand. “I can’t handle this anymore. They probably made poor Manu film it, too.” It’s quiet for a moment and Thomas has a look of intense concentration on his face. “Per,” he finally says, and Per knows this isn’t going to be anything good. “Do you wanna make a bet?” Before Per can say anything, Thomas continues, “100 Euros that Lukas and Bastian will get together before we leave Brazil.”

Per feels like even if he didn’t want to make the bet, Thomas would find a way to force him to, so he agrees. “Okay, you got it, Mülli,” he says, shaking the Thomas’ hand, wary of the mischievous smirk spreading across the younger man’s face.

Chapter Text

June 9, 2014 - Campo Bahia, Brazil

“Wow, this place is really awesome! Great for running.” Thomas grins as he races through the hallway.

Philipp groans as he tries to keep up with the younger man. “Can you calm down for like, two minutes?” he asks, very close to begging.

“Nope. I haven’t seen Manu since yesterday, so we have to hurry,” Thomas says.

“I knew it was a bad idea to put you two in separate houses,” Philipp mutters to himself. “I told Jogi, but no, he didn’t want any distractions.”

“Manu!” Thomas shouts joyfully, running into the arms of the tall goalie.

“Hey, if you let go of me, I’ll show you something really cool.” Manuel loves his friend, but he’s excited to share a very important item with him, too.

Thomas reluctantly lets go and follows him into the room. Manuel’s name is written in gold on the wall of the room and posters of the famous “sweeper-keeper” are plastered all over, but every player’s room is like that, so it’s nothing extraordinary. What is special is the giant jar of Nutella sitting on the table.

“That’s not fair, I didn’t get any other gifts,” Thomas complains. “Your posters look cooler too.” He looks upset for a second, but then he’s struck by a new thought. “Hey, how did Basti cope with being away from Poldi last night?”

Manuel laughs. “They were texting for hours. Basti didn’t want to play FIFA with us, and he said it was because he was too tired, but we could all see his phone vibrating. It’s cute how he thought we wouldn’t notice -” he pauses for a second for dramatic effect - “but you won’t like what happened next.”

“What did he do?” Thomas asks, becoming slightly worried.

“Well, Basti didn’t do anything, but Kevin just put down his controller and told us he was tired too. I followed him and I saw him knock on Basti’s door and go in.”

“Oh my god, is he messing with Lukas’ man? Because I’m pretty sure Lukas has first dibs.”

“I don’t know. He stayed there for a while though. I heard them laugh a few times.”

Thomas’ eyes widen almost comically. “Now that you mention it, Kevin and Basti have been talking a lot.”

“Are you two done with your gossip session yet?” Philipp interrupts. “Because I happen to know why he went in there.”

“What? How?” Thomas looks wide-eyed at Philipp. “Please tell us, Fips.”

“I told him to,” Philipp says simply. Manuel and Thomas look even more confused at that, so Philipp explains, “I was worried about Basti, so I told Kevin to stay with him for a while. I told Per to do the same for Lukas. They’ve always been way too codependent for their own good.”

Even though he’s relieved that his investment isn’t spoiled, Thomas can’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the lack of drama. Manuel, on the other hand, is very visibly relieved. “Thank goodness, because I bet Benni 400 Euros and 30 jars of Nutella that Lukas and Bastian will get together by the end of July. The big jars of Nutella too, you know the ones they sell to those crazy Americans? Yeah, those.”

“Hey, be nice, Jürgen coaches USA now, remember?” Philipp scolds him.

Manuel shrugs. “I just said they’re crazy. Honestly, I’m a bit jealous. Imagine having that much Nutella…”

“I don’t think that’s very healthy, Manu,” Thomas says.

“If you care about eating healthy, then don’t have any of the cake we bought for Miro’s birthday,” Manuel retorts.

“I was just kidding! Of course it would be awesome to have that much Nutella!” Thomas says defensively. “Plus, I was the one who picked out the cake and I paid for half of it so I get to have some.”

“Have you talked to Mats and Benni yet? They better not forget.” Manuel stops and glances at Philipp, not sure if the captain is in on the joke or not. Judging by Thomas' exasperated sigh and wince, Philipp has no clue. Manuel mentally slaps himself.

“Alright, out with it. What are you two up to now?” Philipp looks more threatening than he ever has as he glares up at the two guilty faces.

“Well,” Thomas begins, “it’s really not just me and Manu, so if you’re going to get mad, we better have everyone line up. Let me see, there’s the two of us, and Mats, Benni, Lukas, and he probably told Basti, Toni, Per, maybe Mesut, I think Julian, and Mario might have overheard us, but I can’t be sure...” He’s stalling as best as he can, but Philipp is taking none of his bullshit today.

“Do you want me to go to Jogi?” Philipp threatens. Obviously, he would never actually do it (he loves these idiots too much for that), but if he’s being honest, he’s a little hurt that he isn’t in on it too.

Manuel has just a tad more emotional maturity than Thomas (though not by much), and he understands how Philipp feels. Sometimes they forget that their captain is capable of being just as insane as the rest of them. “Well, we kind of hired exotic dancers for Miro’s birthday?” Manuel blurts out. “At least that's the plan. We weren’t going to actually do anything with them, but we just thought it would be hilarious to see Opa’s face. Benni and Mats were supposed to go look around the local...establishments.”

“Wow.” Philipp is actually speechless for a second. This is the last thing he expected to hear. Even in his state of shock, though, Philipp begins to think things through. (This is why he’s the captain, after all, and damn good at it too.) “But uh, wouldn’t they need to know Portuguese?”

****

“We’ve been looking for hours, Benni, can’t we rest a little?” Julian begs. “Why did you even bring me along? Why did I agree to this? Oh my god, Jogi’s gonna kick me off the team.”

“Calm down, Jule, Jogi’s not going to kick you off the team,” Mats says confidently. “He might even be thanking you by the end of this.”

“But practically everyone is already married or dating someone. Lena might find out and oh my god what if Marco finds out, he’ll be so mad at Mario,” Julian says, visibly panicking. Being the second youngest on the squad, he still clings onto his innocence as much as he can, but it’s tough in a team as crazy as this one.

“Well at this rate, no one besides Thomas and Manu will be mad at anyone,” Benni says dryly. “Jule is right, Mats, we’ve been around here for hours and there’s nothing.”

Mats takes out his smartphone and starts typing. “That’s because neither of you geniuses wanted to ask anyone.”

“Well, I would have asked someone, but I don’t know Portuguese, smart guy,” Benni says, barely refraining from sticking his tongue out at his friend.

“Benni, you aren’t that much older than me, for god’s sake. Have you, or have you not, heard of Google Translate?” Mats says, exasperated.

“But isn’t Google Translate really inaccurate?” Julian asks. Mats waves the concern off, convinced that Julian is just too anxious to think straight anymore.

“Okay, so this is supposed to say Where can we hire exotic dancers?” Mats squints at the screen. “Or at least I think it’s what this says. You know what, I’ll just have the phone do the talking.”

“This is such a bad idea,” Julian moans as Mats and Benni spot a random person strolling along the street.

“Cheer up, Jule, it’s all part of the experience,” Benni says, pasting a smile on his face as he and Mats drag the reluctant youngster along with them.

“Desculpe-me senhor,” the phone says as Mats steps in front of a very confused man. For moment, the man just stares at them, but then his eyes brighten with recognition when he sees the Die Mannschaft crest on their shirts.

“Futebol!” he exclaims, “os alemães!”

Mats nods. “Yes, yes, futebol.” He pauses to type and the man waits patiently, grinning widely at Benni and Julian. They may not be his country’s beloved Neymar, but they are still footballers, and that’s good enough for the moment. “Ah yes, here we go,” Mats presses the speak button.

“Estamos à procura de dançarinos, dançarinas exóticas locais,” says the monotone Google voice, “você pode nos ajudar?”

The man’s smile turns to a confused frown.

“Oh man, I knew this was a horrible idea. Google probably cursed him off or something!” Julian pulls on Benni’s sleeve. “Come on, we should go before he starts yelling at us or chasing us.”

“Não, não, eu posso ajudar,” the man shakes his head and motions for them to follow him. He rounds a few corners and stops at a questionable-looking building and stops. “Dançarinas?” he asks.

Mats assumes he means dancers. It sounds close enough and the building looks pretty sketchy, so he nods. “Diga-lhes para ir para Campo Bahia a 4:00,” his phone says.

The man nods in return. He takes out his wallet and signs the number 1850, trying to tell the Germans the price of the dancers.

“1850 Brazilian Reals.” Julian takes out his phone and finds a money conversion tool. “That’s around 600 Euros. Remind me again how and why this is worth all the trouble?”

“You’re such a nerd, why do you even have a money conversion tool?” Benni asks, a fond smile on his face.

“Well, it came in handy, didn’t it?” Julian says defensively.

Mats just pats him on the head. “Well, who’s paying?”

“Not me,” Julian says firmly. “No way. Never. I refuse. And I’m too young, they wouldn’t let me anyway. Probably. Hopefully.”

Mats grins mischievously. “We’ll see about that. Twenty is old enough in plenty of other countries.”

“Hey, let’s not force the kid,” Benni says. He’s always felt protective of Julian, especially now that they’re on the national team. “We should split it between all of us. And also make Thomas and Manu pay.”

Mats agrees, though somewhat reluctantly. They thank the still very confused man and head back to Campo Bahia.

****

“Hey Basti, what are you doing, wandering about like this?” Mario greets him. The older midfielder is walking around, apparently searching for something.

Bastian seems a bit startled as he says, “Oh, uh, hi Mario. Hi André. I was just, um…”

“Looking for Lukas?” André interrupts, smirking. “He’s over there on that bench, but he’s sleeping.”

“Oh.” Bastian looks a little disappointed. It’s been hours since they had a proper conversation. André opens his mouth to say something else, but just then, Mario’s phone rings. The boy reaches for it eagerly and his face lights up when he sees who it is.

“Hey Marco!” he says brightly. “Hey, sorry guys, I’ll talk to you later, bye.” And then he walks off, already laughing at something Marco said to him.

André watches his friend fondly for a moment. “I’m glad they’re alright.”

“Yeah, me too.” Bastian remembers what Lukas said, about what would happen if either of them got hurt. “I don’t know how they can still laugh like that.”

“I was worried for a little, but I mean, it’s not like this is the first time they’ve been separated, right? Mario literally left Marco at Dortmund and they were fine. It took a few days for Marco to stop crying, but they pushed through. Now, they’re back to sending ridiculous selfies to each other.” André rolls his eyes a little, revealing how he feels about this particular development. “But I mean, as long as they’re happy.”

A switch flips in Bastian’s head. Ridiculous selfies. Bastian had spent the entirety of the previous day feeling confused as to why everyone was laughing at him until Benni had finally taken pity on him and shown him the selfie that Lukas had taken of him sleeping on the plane. Now, he sees a golden opportunity for his revenge, literally lying right in front of him. Lukas is sprawled out with his mouth hanging open a little and his shirt riding up his stomach, revealing a small sliver of skin. Perfect, Bastian thinks.

André seems to realize what Bastian is thinking, because he immediately starts grinning. “You want me to take one?” Bastian gratefully hands André his phone and leans down next to Lukas’ sleeping form. Before handing the phone back, André suggests with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You should take some more of just him, too. And maybe throw in a selfie, too.”

After taking a few solo shots of Lukas and bunch of frankly ridiculous selfies, Bastian picks his favorites and makes a collage before posting it on Facebook.

****

“Are you sure you have the dancers?” Thomas is surprisingly good at planning events, and he had insisted on being the organizer for Miro’s little party.

“Of course we’re sure,” Mats says carelessly. “But don’t you think we should be focusing on training instead of talking? The World Cup is literally days away.”

Thomas kicks the ball quickly and accurately past Manuel. (Poor Manuel looks betrayed by his best friend.) “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we can take a break for five minutes. This is important. It’s Opa that we’re dealing with here.” It’s no secret that Thomas completely idolizes Miro, so everyone understands that obviously Thomas considers this a momentous occasion.

“I agree with Thomas,” Erik says, joining the conversation. Mats gives him a look. “What? Miro is a very important part of this team and his party needs to be amazing.”

“See? Erik gets it,” Thomas says approvingly.

“Yeah, because he keeps forgetting that Miro isn’t actually his dad,” Mats mutters to himself.

“Everyone stop, you have to see this!” Manuel sprints over with Thomas’ phone in his hand.

“Um, why does Manu have your phone, Thomas?” Benni asks, confused.

“Thomas always loses it,” Manuel says without elaborating. “But that’s not what’s important. This is!”

Thomas takes one look and starts laughing hysterically. He’s still giggling to himself five minutes later as Jogi yells at them to get back to work.

Lukas is in the middle of a dribbling exercise when he runs by a red-faced Thomas. At first, he ignores Thomas and continues dribbling, but when he makes his second lap around the course, he slides to a stop. “What’s so funny, Thomas?”

Somehow, Thomas manages to choke out a name. “Basti...oh my god, Basti.”

Lukas frowns and looks around for his friend when it’s obvious that Thomas doesn’t have the ability to elaborate. “Um, is Thomas high?” Lukas asks no one in particular, looking slightly nervous.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s just Thomas being himself. Probably,” Per says, clumsily coming to a stop next to Lukas.

“He’s scaring me a little,” Lukas admits as they watch Thomas’ face turn redder as he struggles to contain his laughter.

“Hmmm, I think I know what the problem is.” Per laughs suddenly. “I just remembered. Have you checked Facebook recently?” Lukas shakes his head. He woke up from his nap late and had to run right to practice. “You should take a look,” Per says with a grin. “And try not to kill him.”

He doesn’t need to say who he’s referring to because Lukas immediately glances at Bastian, who's smiling smugly and receiving a bunch of high fives from various team members. “What did he do?”

Per shakes his head, insisting that Lukas looks for himself. Lukas sighs and heads to the benches to find his phone. His Facebook notifications are overflowing when he logs on and it only takes him a second to realize why. “That son of a bitch!” Lukas mutters as he stares at his own sleeping figure.

“You look beautiful in those pictures,” Bastian chuckles, walking up behind Lukas. “Too bad I couldn't get a video, you were snoring a bit too.”

“You better start running, old man. I'm going to kill you,” Lukas says threateningly. He tries to look angry, but his smile ruins the effect.

Bastian sticks out his tongue. “Try and catch me!” He runs off onto the pitch.

Lukas throws his phone to the side and chases after Bastian. They swerve around the rest of the team, trying not to irritate the trainers too much. Bastian makes a particularly impressive jump over a hurdle and laughs as Lukas falls clumsily over the contraption. His laughter comes to a sudden halt when Lukas doesn't get up right away.

“Lukas!” Bastian sprints to his side, standing over his friend, extremely concerned.

Lukas groans and struggles to his feet, before bending back down to rub his calf. “I'm ok, I'm ok,” Lukas insists as he swats Bastian's hands away from his leg, so Bastian settles with putting a hand on his back. “There's just going to be a bruise later.”

Thomas is watching the spectacle from the sidelines. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Lukas' phone laying unattended and unlocked. He picks it up and decides to snap a few pictures of Lukas and Bastian on the field. For a moment, he contemplates posting them on Lukas' Facebook with a fabricated love note, but he remembers his bet with Jerome and Toni: no interfering. He notices that there are already a few pictures of Lukas training from before, so he decides to just post all the pictures with no captions. They can't accuse him of interfering if there’s just one picture within an entire album titled “TRAINING.”

The whistle blows three times as Thomas finishes the upload. A frustrated Jogi is standing in the middle of the field with the team gathering around him.

“We are one week away from our first match in the group stage and we need to go out there and beat Portugal like a bowl of eggs.” He stops and glares at the team, daring them to mock his horrible simile. A few people crack a smile, but nobody says anything, not even Thomas. “You all are going to work hard this afternoon, starting with a three mile run. The last man running is going to stay and clean up the equipment later. The first man done gets to pick the movie tonight.”

Everyone takes a second to groan before taking off around the pitch. The younger players are in the front, shoving each other playfully as they casually show off the reasons why Jogi called them up. Erik is competing for the lead with André at the end of the first mile with Mario right behind them. He decides to slow down for a bit, saving energy for the remaining 2 miles.

“Hey Julian!” Erik slows down enough to join the youngster. “Why are you jogging with the old men?” Mats and Benni glare at him and he throws a dazzling grin at them in return.

Julian shrugs. "I don't really have a movie in mind and I usually help clean up anyways."

Erik laughs and shakes his head. Julian is such a sweetheart, it's almost ridiculous. "Well, I'm planning on making everyone sit through a nice romance. It's going to be so funny watching you guys squirm and who knows, maybe it'll get some people in the right mood."

Toni is about to pass the foursome when he hears the conversation. "How much is Thomas going to pay you for that?"

"Why would Thomas pay me?" Erik seems genuinely confused, but Toni glances back at Thomas suspiciously.

"Never mind," Toni grumbles. He picks up his speed again, now determined to not sit through sappy movies and lose 50 Euros all in one night.

"You better hurry along if you want to be first. Toni is running pretty fast," Julian tells Erik. Erik laughs and squeezes Julian’s shoulder before sprinting to catch up with Matthias, who passed them a little while ago.

By the time 3:45 comes around, everyone is ready to collapse on the pitch. (Matthias, the youngest of them all, ends up coming in first; Erik looks proud and Toni looks disgruntled.)

"We're nearly done for the day," Jogi says. "One more thing to cool down and then you're free." The team cheers. "Alright, everyone walk around and pick up at least two pieces of equipment." The cheers are immediately replaced with groans.

"You're telling me that I lost a lung running and I still have to clean up?" Lukas mutters to Basti.

"Well, we weren't about to let the birthday boy do all the work," Bastian says. He bends down to pick up a few cones. "And poor Julian doesn't look like he has the energy to drag everything away by himself."

Lukas glances at his watch. It's nearly 4:00 now. "Hey, did anyone tell Jogi that his pitch is about to be invaded by a bunch of ladies in questionable attire?"

Bastian grins and picks up the remaining cones quickly. He looks over to see Jogi sitting on a bench, scribbling madly on a clipboard, stopping only to fix his hair. "Our dear coach is in for quite a surprise."

In reality, the whole team is in for a huge surprise. When the last bags are packed and Jogi stands to give his last speech for the day, loud Brazilian music erupts from the parking lot and a group of dancers run on to the training pitch. Thomas takes one look and doubles over in laughter, clutching Manuel’s arm for support, while everyone else stares at the red-faced Mats and Benni. Mats points at Julian, trying to pass the blame onto the youngster, but everyone knows only Mats has the capability to fuck something up this badly.

The dancers aren't at all what anyone was expecting. The men, women, and children that are now dancing around the field are outfitted in traditional Brazilian grass skirts and headdresses, and are decidedly not the "exotic dancers" the team was anticipating.

Per is the first one to recover from the surprise. “Well, happy birthday, old man,” Per chuckles as he claps Miro on the back. “And you thought we forgot about you!”

Miro smiles at the team, touched. He really thought everyone had forgotten. With all of Brazil to explore and the World Cup in a week, he didn’t think his birthday would be a priority. To him, it’s just another reminder of how old he is compared to everyone else.

“Come on, let’s party.” Erik drags Miro to the middle of the circle of dancers. Erik attempts to copy the movements of a nearby dancer, but he ends up staring at a surprisingly flexible Miro in awe.

In a different spot, Philipp materializes next to Thomas and Manuel. “Well, Thomas, you’ve really outdone yourself this time!”

“Technically, it was Mats,” Manuel points out. “Thomas had something a little different in mind.”

“Whatever,” Philipp says, waving a hand dismissively. “This is just so much better than anything anyone else could have planned!” And then he dances off into the crowd, clearly enjoying himself.

Jogi, who already feels overwhelmed as it is, looks at the man he's chosen to be the captain. Philipp is twirling around, almost gracefully, with a crown of flowers, and Jogi can only shake his head. Even the supposedly serious one can be an idiot sometimes. But even he allows himself to relax and enjoy a little as Hansi drags him over to join the celebrations. After all, when will they ever get to experience something like this again?

****

July 10, 2014 - Campo Bahia, Brazil

"What's going on?" Lukas drops his bag and takes a seat next to Basti.

The team is gathering their practice equipment, tossing their bags aside, and heading toward the buses. Bastian grabs his sunglasses and offers his bottle of sunscreen to Lukas. "We're going on a little team-building adventure with Mike Horn. Jogi said something about the beach, jetskis, and a boat. Why are you late?"

Lukas smiles, a little embarrassed to admit the reason. "I had a hard time falling asleep and waking up without a human heater next to me. You and Monika have abnormal body temperatures, I’ve just gotten too used to it."

Bastian throws his arm around Lukas. "Come on, you can take a nap on the bus."

Thomas and Manuel grin when they see the two walk on with Bastian's arm still draped around Lukas' shoulder.

"Don't you get tired of seeing them flirt with each other?" Toni rolls his eyes and Jerome nods in agreement.

Thomas' lopsided smile tells them he thinks otherwise. "You know what, Toni? I think you're afraid you're gonna lose."

Toni shrugs. "I don't really care about the money. Really, it's not like you don't trick me and Jerome into buying drinks for you and Manu all the time. I honestly just wish those two would get over it already."

“Seriously. They’ve been at it for a decade, literally,” Jerome adds. “Philipp told me the other day that he wanted people to keep an eye on the two of them, but none of the returning players wanted to do it because they were so sick of the blatant flirting, so he recruited all the newbies. Poor things don’t even know what they’re getting themselves into.” He shakes his head sympathetically.

“He never asked us,” Manuel says a little indignantly.

“That’s possibly because you two have a really unhealthy obsession with Lukas and Bastian,” Toni points out. "And you're not the youngest anymore, Mülli."

“And maybe he’s trying to save you some money, too, Thomas, because we all know you’d end up interfering somehow,” Jerome teases with a grin.

****

Brazil really is a beautiful place. With the sun blazing over white sand and clear water, the team makes their way to a group of speedboats marked with the Mercedes-Benz logo.

"Before we get started, put on life jackets," Mike Horn shouts over the chatter of the team.

The seemingly simple command takes a good ten minutes to accomplish. Half of the time is spent laughing at Thomas, who gets stuck in a life jacket that's four sizes too small. Erik also struggles with the task at hand, much to the amusement of Matthias and Mats. Snickering spreads when everyone realizes Erik is pretty much paralyzed with terror during the short ride to the main boat. He nearly falls as he boards the speedboat and again on his way up to the deck of the second boat.

At first, Erik tries to laugh it off, but his usually red cheeks are pale and his hair gel doesn’t seem to be doing its job, and Matthias starts to feel bad for his friend. Miro is a short distance away, and everyone pretends not to notice his concerned glances towards Erik every ten seconds. For the rest of the team building exercise, Matthias isn’t more than 3 feet away from Erik, always ready to remind him to take deep breaths.

“That’s sweet,” Thomas says, observing the two youngsters from a distance. “But definitely not as sweet as those two.”

Manuel glances in the direction he’s pointing in. “It’s those heart eyes again. I swear, I can feel it from all the way here.”

The cameras are in Bastian’s face and he’s smiling as charismatically as possible for the interviewer. Lukas is playing around with Bastian’s sunglasses as he watches his friend charm everyone around him.

"Hey Poldi." Mario interrupts his thoughts, and it's probably a good thing since he’s starting to have those kinds of thoughts again.

"Hi." Lukas looks around, confused about why Mario isn't with André (or texting Marco, which he spends most of his time doing).

"I know this is kind of weird coming from me, but those thoughts -" Mario pauses and so does Lukas' heart - "those thoughts, I had them too.” He doesn’t say about who, but then again, he doesn’t need to. “And you know what? They won't go away. Ever. So it's stupid, wasting your energy to ignore them, you know?"

Lukas shakes his head. "I don't know..."

Mario smiles at him, and it's almost as if he feels sorry for Lukas. "Yeah, alright," he says before he leaves to join André again.

Lukas looks down at the glasses in his hands and his heart skips a beat when he thinks about the man who owns them. Later on, he excuses himself from jet skiing, blaming his weak stomach on seasickness; only Mario knows that it's complete bullshit.

****

June 15, 2014 - One Day Before Germany’s First Match

"Manu, where's my phone?" Thomas whispers. He receives a few shushes from the team. Everyone is absorbed in the France vs Honduras match currently going on, trying to relax for the big day tomorrow, but something more important has just crossed Thomas' mind.

"I don't know, why?" Manuel says distractedly as France is awarded their second goal thanks to the implementation of goal-line technology.

"I haven't been on Facebook in a few days. Jogi and the World Cup and all those god damn interviews have been distracting me from my investments." Thomas nudges his friend impatiently when it’s clear that Manuel is more interested in the match. “Please, Manu, I just wanna check all the social networks I possibly can.”

Manuel makes the mistake of turning to look at Thomas, and is immediately met with admittedly adorable puppy dog eyes. He caves almost instantaneously. “Fine,” he sighs, handing over the phone. “But if Jogi catches you not watching the match, it’s not my fault, okay?”

“Thanks Manu, I love you, I’ll give you all the Nutella you want,” Thomas says, beaming at him.

Roman and Kevin both turn around to glare at the two of them. “Oi, keep it down,” Roman hisses, glancing over to where Jogi is sitting with Hansi.

“Jogi might hear you, and then we’ll all be in trouble,” Kevin adds, looking around nervously at the rest of the team.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Thomas says, flashing them a charming smile. The two Dortmund players look satisfied and smile back gratefully before returning their attention to the screen. In the meantime, Thomas manages to silently check Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram without getting caught. He’s rewarded with several different goodies.

Manuel, who has been sneaking glances over Thomas’ shoulder, has to hold back a snort at Lukas’ Instagram post from after their boating adventure. He knows he shouldn’t speak out loud, so he improvises and opens a new text message.

To: Mülli ;P :D <3 #SOULBROS

they r sooo ridiculous y is basti even w/ lukas in that pic

To: Manutella #onetruebro ;P <3 :D

omg look @ this interview tho https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7A9TP3kHYw

 Manuel glances around to make sure Jogi isn't watching before clicking on the link. He has to clap a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing and/or gagging.

To: Mülli ;P :D <3 #SOULBROS

theyre mirroring each other omg basti is literally giving heart eyes @ lukas shoot me

To: Manutella #onetruebro ;P <3 :D

theres more on fb they r idiotz poor mike had 2 deal w/ them taking pix

To: Thomas freakin Müller >:), Manu Neuer

Put your phones away. I can see the screens from here you dumbasses SMH.

To: OPAAAAAAA

do u even kno what smh means smh

To: Thomas freakin Müller >:)

Put it away or I’m telling Jogi. And yes I know what it means, Erik told me.

To: OPAAAAAAA

ur txting me tho so u hav ur phone 2

To: Thomas freakin Müller >:)

Speak in actual German OMG. And I’m older than you, I have privileges.

To: Manuuuu :)))

omg we get 2 txt each other???

To: Christophhhhhh :)))

noooo miro is yelling at us we gotta stop

To: Miro

y does everyone have their phones out???

To: Fips Lahmi

I'm yelling at them but it's not working. Help.

To: Manu, Kevin, Matze, Benni, Mats, Sami, Basti, Mesut, Andre, Lukas, Miro, RR, Thomas, Jule, Erik, Per, Toni, Mario, Jerome, Shkodran, Roman, Christoph

STOP USING UR PHONES U IDIOTS JOGI WILL KILL US ALL

To: #CaptainLahmi

but i wasnt using my phone :( y u yelling? and benni wants me 2 tell u he wasnt using his either

To: Mats

just put it away. please for the love of god put it away.

To: Marcinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

i feel like i wont be able 2 talk much longer. ilysm ok i miss u and we will win 4 u bby <33

To: Götzinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

ok bby play hard 2moro, luv u <33

To: Manuel, Kevin, Matthias, Benedikt, Mats, Sami, Bastian, Mesut, Andre, Lukas, Miroslav, Ron-Robert, Thomas, Julian, Erik, Philipp, Per, Toni, Mario, Jerome, Shkodran, Roman, Christoph

Do you think you are all very subtle at using your phones? Because you are more obvious than Sergio Busquets’ dive in that one Champions League match against Inter Milan. I expected better from all of you. And by all of you I mostly mean Philipp and Miroslav and Roman because the rest of you are out of control. Everyone is having their phones confiscated, so hand them over to Hansi and start actually watching the match. ~Jogi

Chapter Text

June 16, 2014 - Match vs Portugal; Arena Fonte Nova, Salvador

It’s almost time. Even though the team arrives hours before the actual match, they have to make their way through a crowd of fans and the stadium is already filling up with thousands of spectators. With the Brazilian sun beating down and the crowd already starting to cheer, there’s no way anybody can retain their sense of inner calm. Whether it’s from excitement or nervousness, it doesn’t matter; all anyone can really feel is pure energy. This isn’t a plane ride or a training camp or a friendly match. This is the World Cup. It’s finally here.

“This is it.” Jogi’s voice cuts through the buzz of sound and energy. Everyone stops and turns to listen. “The media, the commentators, everyone out there with a voice, do you know what they call us? They call us The Machine. I would bet a thousand Euros that they’re calling us that right now.”

Despite the amount of focus present in the locker room, Thomas manages to lean over to Manuel and joke, “Do you think he’d be willing to bet with me?”

Manuel shushes him. He thinks Jogi is actually on track for a great speech and he isn’t about to miss this rare moment.

“They’re talking about this match right now and what are they calling it? Man versus Machine. They’re right in a way. We are a machine and Portugal only has one man. Aka Cristiano Ronaldo.” Manuel lets out a little groan; Jogi had been doing so well. Luckily, their coach redeems himself a second later as he continues, “Do you know what it takes to operate a machine perfectly? It takes parts. You cannot run a machine with just one part; you need every single piece working together flawlessly, in perfect harmony. Machines don’t make mistakes, they don’t get tired, and they keep going until the job is done. Today, and for the rest of this tournament, we are going to show them what the German Machine is capable of doing.” He opens his mouth again, possibly to add something else, but Hansi starts applauding, which invites the rest of the team to do the same, and this way they make sure Jogi doesn’t ruin his speech for once.

Cheering, the team starts to head out into the tunnel. Out of the corner of his eye, Bastian sees Mario stroke the front of a jersey that he has folded neatly in his locker. (No one says anything because they all know who it belongs to.) We may be a machine, but that isn’t enough, he thinks to himself. This machine has a heart, and that is what makes us unstoppable.

Mario sees him staring and just smiles sadly. “Come on Basti, let’s go win this thing,” he says, closing his locker.

Out in the tunnel, Thomas is holding the hand of a very confused and slightly scared child as he practices his horrific winking skills. Meanwhile, Benni is having trouble hiding his anxiety; the media has been doubtful about his placement in the starting lineup and he’s beginning to feel the same way. Mats rests a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whispers a few comforting words, managing to put a small smile on Benni’s face and calm him a little. A little way off, Jerome is calmly talking to Toni; the two of them somehow feel relaxed and confident. The Portuguese players line up alongside them, and Sami is greeted enthusiastically by Cristiano Ronaldo, Pepe, and Fabio Coentrão. (Mesut looks ecstatic when Ronaldo stops to give him a hug as well.)

It feels like an eternity of shifting around and hoping the poor children won’t notice their sweaty hands, but finally the traditional entrance music starts playing. Everyone straightens up and puts on their best poker faces, hoping the world can’t see the mixture of emotions, both good and bad, swirling around behind their professional masks. It take a moment for them to adjust to the ridiculously bright sunlight and the roar of the crowd. The two teams form a straight line with the referees in the middle as usual. Standing there, in the middle of a crowd of tens of thousands of people, everything suddenly becomes so real; both teams can feel their hearts start to race and the adrenaline beginning to pump through their veins. In several different languages, it is announced that the national anthem of Portugal is up first.

As the anthem plays, Thomas can see the cameras zoomed in on Ronaldo's chiseled features, practically caressing his face with the lens, and Thomas giggles to himself a little. Philipp notices his mischievous smile and shoots him a warning glare. This is the World Cup, don't do anything stupid, Philipp tries to say with his face, but he ends up just looking slightly constipated (which only amuses Thomas more).

Germany's anthem is up next and the camera moves away from Ronaldo, starting from the end and moving down the line. Philipp groans internally when he sees Thomas give the camera his signature failed wink. The man looks disproportionately gleeful at accomplishing the small task. One day, he’s going to realize he looks like he’s having a muscle spasm instead of giving a proper wink. Philipp looks at his teammate, still standing proudly with his socks down at his ankles and his shirt untucked in the most ungraceful manner possible. Apparently, today is not that day. Never grow up, Thomas, Philipp thinks fondly as the final notes ring.

The anthem ends with a wave of cheering and applause from the German fans. Pictures of the teams are next, followed by the coin toss between captains. Finally, the whistle blows and the match begins.

Lukas and Bastian are sitting next to each other on the bench, watching the game unfold. Of course, they would rather be together on the field, but the atmosphere is so saturated with energy, the players on the sideline manage to feel as excited as the field players.  

Nearly eight minutes in, the Portuguese goalkeeper makes a mistake and sends Lukas jumping to his feet. “Yes! Sami! Oh no. No, that should have gone in. Oh my god he was so close.”

Bastian laughs at Lukas’ enthusiasm and pulls his friend's arm. “It’s only just started, we’ll score sooner or later.”

Lukas pouts a little, sitting back down. “Yeah, it would have been cool though...” he trails off as he watches the field in horror. Philipp has just given up the ball to Ronaldo and the superstar is streaking down the field, leaving the Germans scrambling in his wake. “Oh, thank god,” Lukas sighs when Manuel saves their asses.

Two minutes later, Bastian has to hold back a laugh again as Lukas points frantically at the pitch. “Oi! He practically dragged Mario to the ground. You saw that, right?” Bastian smiles fondly as Lukas nods in approval when the referee awards Germany the penalty. Everyone holds their breath when Thomas prepares to kick the ball even though none of them have any doubts that he’ll score. He takes a few steps back before running forward, striking the ball perfectly, as he always does.

“GOAL! HE DID IT! GOAL!” Lukas screams. Before Bastian can shout anything back, he finds himself wrapped in Lukas' arms, jumping up and down happily.

Erik and Matthias are a few seats down, clapping and cheering. Out of the corner of his eye, Erik spots the two men in a tight embrace. He nudges Matthias. “Look at them.”

Matthias grins. “Too bad Mülli can't see this. He would lose his shit.”

“Well, I mean, I think he’ll be alright for now,” Erik says with a smile, gesturing to where Thomas is being engulfed in celebratory hugs from his teammates.

Twenty minutes go by and Germany is playing beautifully. They even get a few shots on goal, but nothing touches the back of the net. In the 31st minute, they finally get a golden opportunity in the form of a corner. As usual, Toni’s kick into the box is sublime, and it’s all too easy for Mats to rise up and head it into the net. He makes his way to the bench to celebrate with a large team hug. Everyone is caught up in the excitement of being two goals ahead, but Ron-Robert manages to catch a glimpse of Bastian patting Lukas’ head amidst the celebrations and he makes a mental note to inform Per, Mesut, Sami, and Jerome as soon as they return to Campo Bahia.

A few minutes later, chaos ensues on the pitch in the form of Pepe and a moment of temporary insanity. The bench watches with a mixture of horror and amusement as Thomas goes down rather softly and Pepe retaliates by headbutting his face. Thomas’ immediate reaction of jumping up and indignantly demanding, “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” earns him a few fond smiles from the bench, and Toni has to drag the hot-headed midfielder away to calm him down. Pepe’s subsequent sending off surprises no one (and Sami and Ronaldo share an exasperated eye roll at their Real Madrid teammate’s antics). After the drama subsides, the game settles down again with Germany clearly outplaying their opponent, and by halftime, they're up 3-0 thanks to an impressive last-minute goal from Thomas, and while he (surprisingly) keeps his celebrations subdued, the bench celebrates with Jogi.

"It’s been four years and the kid still amazes me," Lukas marvels, raising his voice slightly in order to be heard over the roar of the crowd. Despite the fact that most of the fans are wearing Ronaldo jerseys, the German crowd manages to make ears ring.

"You were pretty amazing back in the day too," Bastian teases.

“Well, what can I say, I had a pretty fantastic partner in crime providing me with assists,” Lukas says, smirking slightly at his friend. Much to the delight of the team, the two continue their banter all the way down to the locker rooms.

“Have they seriously been like this for ten whole years?” Shkodran asks Philipp, amazed.

“This, and worse sometimes,” Philipp says, rolling his eyes.

“Wow, that’s actually kind of impressive,” Shkodran says, his eyes wide. “How have they not realized that they’re head-over-heels in love with each other by now?”

Philipp looks at his teammate, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He knows that it shouldn’t come as a shock that even the new players are noticing Lukas and Bastian’s affection for each other, but to hear Shkodran talk about it so casually is a little astounding.

Shkodran just shrugs and says, “Thomas…” And he doesn’t need to finish the statement because Philipp immediately understands where the air of familiarity is coming from.

Jogi doesn’t have much to say to the team because for once, since their first half performance has been pretty spectacular. He settles for reminding them that Portugal has a “one-man army” in the form of Cristiano Ronaldo and that they must keep a close eye on his “armada of trickery and fancy moves.”

"But don't keep a close eye on his face. We don't want you guys getting distracted by the chiseled perfection," Hansi adds to get the team laughing and in high spirits as halftime draws to an end. Jogi looks slightly disgruntled at being upstaged by his assistant, but god knows he should be used to it by now.

“I don’t like Ronaldo’s face,” Manuel mutters as they leave the locker room. “He scored two goals on me in the Champions League and his face makes me angry.”

“Please, Manu, you don’t like anyone’s face when they’re playing against you,” Mats says with a wide grin. “In fact, you’re actually kind of scary sometimes, you know that?” Behind him, Benni, Per, and Jerome all nod in agreement.

“I think he just looks like a slightly pissed off duck,” Thomas says, quick to (sort of) defend his friend. “That’s why I’m going to make him quack at Jogi during dinner if I can score a hattrick.” The four defenders look at each other in stunned silence for a second before doubling over in laughter, leaning on each other for support, and they don’t stop until Philipp yells at them to focus.

The second half is definitely slower in pace as Portugal tries and fails, numerous times, to break the German defense. On the other hand, Germany isn’t really making many attempts either, and Thomas begins to worry that maybe he won’t get his hattrick after all. André comes on for Mesut, who takes his time leaving the field, even stopping to hug Sami on the way off. In their usual fashion, André and Mario try to create a chance, but even after a lovely run from André, Mario can’t convert the effort. Mats provides them all with an injury scare, which brings Shkodran on the field for his first taste of a World Cup match.

And then finally, just a few minutes later, Thomas somehow manages to meet a cross from André and put it in the net before falling on his butt. It’s honestly a typical thing for Thomas to do and they’re all quick to remind him of that as they gather for a group hug.

“It wouldn’t have been a true Thomas Müller hattrick if you hadn’t fallen,” Philipp says, not bothering to conceal pride on his face. “Just think, little Mülli scoring his first World Cup hattrick! I’m so proud of you.”

“Shut up,” Thomas says, but he looks immeasurably pleased at the praise. (He’d never admit it out loud but Philipp’s opinion means a lot to him.)

On the sideline, Lukas prepares to leave Bastian's side for the first time all afternoon and begins to warm up at Jogi's command.

“You're going to be great out there,” Bastian says before he starts jogging away.

Lukas smiles. “Well, there's not a lot of time for me to do much.”

“Well then, just make sure you don't mess up, silly.”

Soon enough, Jogi subs him in for Thomas, who’s still elated by his recent accomplishment. The youngster seats himself next to Miro on the bench after accepting numerous handshakes from his teammates and even from Jogi. “How’d I do, Opa?” he asks cheekily.

“You never cease to amaze me, Thomas,” Miro says truthfully. “You’re already halfway on your way to becoming a World Cup legend.”

“Well, you’re about to tie the record,” Thomas reminds him. “And then you’ll break it.” His almost childlike belief brings a smile to Miro’s face.

“And one day, you will break mine,” Miro says fondly. “I know it. You remind me so much of myself, there’s no way you won’t.”

The rest of the match goes by quickly and the Germans revel in their victory. It’s a dream start to the World Cup for them, and now they’re more excited than ever for the tournament to progress.

 ****

To: Eric (Opa’s child)

ERIC I NEED U 2 DO SMTHG 4 ME

To: Thomas is a Weirdo

its spelled e-r-i-k actually

To: Eric(k) (Opa’s child)

but will u help me??????

To: Lil Jule

JULE I NEED U 2 DO SMTHG 4 ME

To: Psycho Thomas

will i get in trouble? i dont want to get in trouble

To: Baby Matze

MATZE I NEED U 2 DO SMTHG 4 ME

To: Thomas the Maniac

did u just copy and paste the same message to me jule and erik bc theres this thing called a group chat. also we r all at dinner y cant u just walk over here

Group Chat created by ThomasIsTheMostAwesome. ThomasIsTheMostAwesome added Baby Matze, Lil Jule, Eric(k) (Opa’s child).

ThomasIsTheMostAwesome: so do u guys want 2 help me or no

MatzeGinter#ilovebvb: my name in ur contacts is ‘baby matze’? i am not a baby

MatzeGinter#ilovebvb: ERIK STOP CHANGING MY MESSAGING NAME IM NOT ON BVB

Erik37Durm: my name is erik y is the k in parentheses and also i am not miros child

Erik37Durm: haha #sorrynotsorry matze u will def join me at bvb soon

JuleDraxler10: y am i ‘lil jule’ it sounds like a rapper name

JuleDraxler10: ewww no don’t join bvb matze. schalke is where its at

ThomasIsTheMostAwesome: can u ppl focus omg i need ur help

JuleDraxler10: y dont u just ask manu he’ll help u

ThomasIsTheMostAwesome: welllll fips kind of banned us frm doing wat i want u 2 do???????? idk

Erik37Durm: if its illegal i am out of here

JuleDraxler10: same

MatzeGinter#ilovebvb: me too

ThomasIsTheMostAwesome: relax i just want u 2 spy on lukas and basti. itll be like a spy movie

ThomasIsTheMostAwesome: also wat r u the 3 musketeers or smth u all act the same its weird

JuleDraxler10: oh thank god, i thought it was gonna be a lot worse

MatzeGinter#ilovebvb: thomas ur calling /us/ weird? ok :P

Erik37Durm: u shouldn’t take the lord’s name in vain jule

Erik37Durm: i agree w/ matze thomas ur the 1 asking us to do strange tasks

JuleDraxler10: ahhh sorry erik D: sometimes i forget bc im jewish u know

ThomasIsTheMostAwesome: u guys r so hopeless come on im tryin 2 do srs bizniz here

Erik37Durm: idk...it might be kinda fun maybe

MatzeGinter#ilovebvb: …ummm r u guys actually considering this????

JuleDraxler10: ill only go if all of us go

Erik37Durm: well i guess if we all go it wont be too bad

ThomasIsTheMostAwesome: wait gimme a sec i gotta make manu quack

MatzeGinter#ilovebvb: wat

Sure enough, the three youngsters look up from their phones to see Thomas and Manuel whispering heatedly to each other.

“You promised! You have to!” Thomas pouts at Manuel, who looks like he desperately wants to hide under the table.

“It was a stupid promise to make,” Kevin says cheerfully. “Thomas always scores lots of goals, it was super likely that he would score a hattrick.”

“Thanks for the support, Kevin, I really appreciate that,” Manuel grumbles. “I’ll quack, just not at Jogi,” he adds, trying to bargain with an uncompromising Thomas.

“A deal is a deal, Manu,” Thomas says sternly. “Come on, I’ll give you all my extra Nutella for a month when we get back to Munich.”

Manuel glares at him. “Make it a year and I’ll do it.” Thomas nods gleefully and Manuel sighs. This is what I get for having Mülli as my best friend.

They wait for a few minutes. Jogi’s plate is nearly empty and it’s only a matter of time before he has to get up for an extra slice of his beloved lemon cake.

“Manu, he’s coming!” Thomas practically squeals. “I’ll distract him.” Apparently, he has it all planned out because as Jogi passes their seats, Thomas unceremoniously falls on the floor and lands at the feet of his unamused coach.

“Ah, I see you’re reenacting your third goal, Müller,” Jogi says dryly, without expressing any emotion whatsoever. “I thought I told Philipp to prevent these things from happening. And yet, here we stand. Or sit, I guess. Or whatever it is you’re doing at this point, I’m not even sure.”

Manuel closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to prepare himself. Erik, Julian, and Matthias have effectively alerted the rest of the team and the room goes silent in time for what sounds like the dying words of a duck on hallucinogens to resonate through the dining hall.

There’s a stretch of a few seconds where nobody really knows how to react, but the team quickly joins in when Thomas’ laughing fills the silence. Jogi just stands stock still and stares at Manuel for an entire minute. Then, without a word, he turns around and walks back to his seat, completely forgetting about his slice of cake. “Hansi,” he says slowly to the man next to him, “I need you to do me a favor. Check the roster again and make sure that the people in this room are in fact the members of the German national team, and not some random kindergarten class we found on the street.” Then he pinches the bridge of his nose before burying his face in his hands in a gesture of resignation.

Hansi is too busy struggling to breathe, just like the rest of the team, to answer.

“I need two aspirins. I would like to sleep,” Jogi finally announces when it becomes clear that no one is going to stop laughing any time soon. “I would also like a nice, sane, normal football team to coach, but sadly, we all want things we can’t have. Well, good night.” He walks out, looking slightly dazed.

“I think you broke Jogi,” Roman chokes out, still trying to stop laughing. “That was some quality quacking, I have to say.”

Manuel is bright red, but he manages to laugh along with the team. “He’s probably going to get us all drug tested tomorrow.”

“Totally worth it,” Ron-Robert says with a wide grin, and they all nod in agreement.

“Alright, alright. For the sake of Jogi’s sanity, we should probably all go to bed before you guys think of another stupid thing to do,” Hansi says as he wipes away his tears of mirth. “Come on, fun time is over.”

A chorus of “awww” rings through the room but everyone obliges, slowly trudging to the doors. Living in their houses is fun, and they obviously all get along perfectly well, but a few closer friendships have been split due to the housing arrangements, which adds to the general reluctance around the idea of going to bed. As Per attempts to pry Benni away from Mats so they can return to their respective houses, Thomas shoots Erik, Matthias, and Julian a look before giving Manuel an overdramatic farewell hug. (Miro, watching the scene from nearby, impatiently reminds them that they will literally see each other tomorrow morning.) Grumbling slightly, Thomas makes his way over to Christoph to wait for Philipp and Mats to join them.

A short distance away, Lukas grabs Bastian before he can leave with the rest of the crowd. “Hey, you wanna see something cool?”

“I don’t know, it depends on your definition of cool,” Bastian says with a smile, but he’s already following Lukas anyway.

Lukas leads Bastian out of the hotel and onto the sandy sidewalk. Bastian wants to ask where he’s being taken, but he doesn’t want to ruin the sense of peace that has settled around them. Eventually, the sidewalk ends and the beach stretches in front of them for as far as the eye can see. The ocean is black except for where the moon’s reflection is rippling in the waves. Lukas lies down on the soft sand and motions for Bastian to do the same. Their arms are barely touching, but Lukas can still feel the heat radiating off Bastian, and it makes the hairs on his own arm stand up. He tries to ignore how perfect it feels to be with Bastian and how much he's missed just lying next to him, listening to their breathing slowly become synchronized. He steals a glance at his friend and suddenly he can't bring himself to look away. Bastian turns his head to meet Lukas' stare and they grin at each other, knowing that words aren't necessary to describe how incredible this moment is.

“Look up,” Lukas whispers, finally brave enough to trust that his voice is working properly. “You don’t get to see that in Munich.” Campo Bahia is far enough from the major cities that the sky is filled with stars. They stay like this for the longest time, not really talking except to point out an especially bright star. Bastian can’t think of a better way to spend the night.

The serenity is short lived when the silence is broken by faint whispers that seem to be originating from behind a clump of bushes nearby. “Do you hear that?” Bastian asks, feeling a little concerned.

“Maybe it’s paparazzi?” Lukas says nervously. “But how could they have gotten in here? There’s security everywhere.”

“There’s a branch in my side,” they hear a very familiar voice complain.

“Your elbow is in my side,” another voice whines.

“Guys, come on, we have a job to do,” a third voice chimes in.

Bastian narrows his eyes in confusion. “They’re our teammates. What are they doing in a bush?” he wonders aloud.

“Thomas won’t stop texting me,” the first voice says.

“He’s texting me too,” the second affirms.

“What was the point of making a group chat if he’s not going to use it?” The third voice sounds utterly exasperated.

“Do you think we should ask them what they’re doing?” Lukas asks, looking highly amused. “I’m pretty sure it’s Jule, Matze, and Erik in there. It sounds like the three of them.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Bastian agrees. They quietly walk over, careful to be stealthier than the three boys in the bush. Bastian pushes aside a few branches to find Lukas’ suspicions confirmed.

“Gosh, why can’t Thomas just stop - oh! Um, hi Basti. Hi Lukas.” Julian plasters an extremely fake smile on his face after an initial moment of shock. “I would ask you what you guys are doing here, but you’re probably wondering what we’re doing in a bush. And, well, the answer to that question is that we just, you know, um, decided to gather in this bush. Because -”

“Because we, uh, it helps us sleep,” Erik interrupts. All of them stare at him for a moment before Matthias and Julian belatedly nod in agreement.

“Sitting in a bush helps you sleep,” Lukas says in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know, like, um, the sounds of nature are soothing,” Matthias says. “You know, like the ocean and the leaves rustling and things.”

“Right,” Bastian says slowly, looking skeptical and trying extremely hard to hold back his sarcasm.

“But Thomas kept texting us, so we couldn’t actually be soothed,” Julian explains, holding his buzzing cellphone up as evidence.

“Right, yeah, and so we were just gonna go back to our houses, like, right now. Because, um, the nature isn’t helping us sleep today,” Erik finishes somewhat lamely.

“Matze and Julian can come with me then!” Bastian says cheerfully. They look at him, confused. “Because they’re both in my house,” he clarifies. “You can tell me more about how the sounds of nature help you sleep on the way.”

“And I’ll walk you back to your house, Erik, because I get the feeling Fips doesn’t know about this therapeutic effect that sitting in bushes at midnight has on you,” Lukas offers with a slight smile.

Erik returns the smile nervously. When Lukas turns away, he throws Julian and Matthias a desperate look before turning to follow Lukas, murmuring a quiet, “God help me.”

****

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

so did erik say anything??

To: Fußballgott :)))

nah i gave up on trying to get something out of him

kinda felt bad

poor kid was shitting his pants

plus he might complain to miro and then what would i do

hbu? did jule or matze say anything?

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

just a bunch of bad lies. u heard them say something about mulli right? must be one of his schemes again

To: Fußballgott :)))

idk probably i wouldnt be surprised at all

u playing fifa with the boys now?

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

nah i wanted some peace for once. the beach was nice tho. thanks :)

To: Fußballgott :)))

yeah thought u might like it :)

maybe we can go back tomorrow

whatcha doin now?

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

i think im going to sleep now im tired. save me a seat at breakfast?

To: Fußballgott :)))

ull prob be there before me but of course haha

good night basti <3

Lukas pauses before sending the last text; his thumb hovers over the send button as he rereads it. Deciding that the heart is a bit too much, he presses the backspace button a few times and adds a smiley face instead before sending the message.

To Fußballgott :)))

ull prob be there before me but of course haha

good night basti :)

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

good night poldi <3

Chapter Text

June 19, 2014 - Campo Bahia

“50 Euros they’ll talk about Jerome and Kevin more than Miro.” Thomas leans back on the sofa, waiting for someone in the house to take him up on the bet.

“You do realize his nickname is Prince, right? Nobody calls him Kevin,” Erik says. “Or at least that’s what Mats told me that Benni said. Since Benni is on Schalke with ‘Prince’ and all.” Miro has already warned him about betting with Thomas. He’s determined to avoid going bankrupt and tries to steer the conversation away from money talk. “I think Jerome got the short end of the stick. Prince is a much cooler name. What’s their other brother’s name again?”

“Well, then I bet 100 Euros that they’ll talk about Jerome and Prince more than Opa’s goal. Because Opa is definitely going to score that record-tying goal,” Thomas presses, clearly not giving up.

Mats is too busy with his phone (Thomas had tried peeking over his shoulder earlier and Mats had hidden the screen, but they all know he’s texting Benni) to notice the desperate glances Erik is shooting in his direction, and Philipp had said something about getting some peace and quiet for once, so he’s nowhere to be found. The door to the lounge opens before Erik can think of something else to distract Thomas with and a wet-haired Christoph walks in, smelling of roses and aftershave.

He looks around, confused as to why there are actually people in the lounge for once; usually they’re in their rooms or in a different house altogether. Erik sees Christoph’s confused expression and decides it’s the perfect chance to change the subject. “By the way, Jogi warned us that if we sneak out again after hours to visit other people, he’s going to make us run.” He carefully doesn’t mention that it was in fact Thomas’ fault that he, Julian, and Matthias had been out and about three nights ago. And that it was also by Thomas’ own doing that he got caught playing catch with Manuel last night; they had been throwing small rocks to each other, Manuel standing on the balcony and Thomas waiting below.

Thomas picks at a bare thread hanging off the sofa and grumbles, “I hate running. I just want to be able to talk to Manu. Is that such a crime?”

Erik and Christoph exchange amused glances at Thomas’ theatrics. “Thomas, it’s not the end of the world, you still have, like, 14 hours in the day that you are allowed to see Manu,” Christoph says patiently. “Plus, you can just room together when we get to hotel tomorrow because Jogi isn’t assigning rooms.” For some reason, Mats looks weirdly delighted upon receiving this news and begins furiously typing something on his phone.

Thomas apparently perks up too and turns to Mats in excitement. “I just remembered! I haven’t made any bets with you yet, Mats!”

“I was really hoping it would stay that way,” Mats says with a strained smile, but Thomas’ grin only grows wider.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” he insists.

“Like how spying on Lukas and Bastian was ‘fun’?” Erik mutters, and Christoph looks at him in confusion. “I’ll explain later,” Erik says. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“200 Euros that Lukas and Basti will finally get it together by the time the new Bundesliga season starts,” Thomas says.

Mats sighs. “Do I have a choice?”

Thomas’ positively wicked smirk tells him the answer is one he dreads, but he manages to resist giving in easily. It isn’t until Thomas smugly whispers, “Don’t forget, I know who you’re texting,” that Mats sighs and agrees to the bet.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

~ ~ ~

Kevin looks around and wonders why he got stuck in the house he’s in. Not that he doesn’t like anyone (he and Bastian have gotten quite close), but literally everyone is on their stupid phone. The room is silent except for the sound of phones buzzing with notifications and the occasional groan or cheer from Matthias and Julian, who are playing FIFA. Bastian had tried to strike up a conversation with him earlier, but it died out once the constant stream of messages from Lukas became too much of a distraction. Plus, Manuel hasn’t come out of his room all night, so Kevin decides to settle for just watching TV.

Suddenly, there’s a bang and Kevin turns away from a replay of the Uruguay-England match in time to see a red-faced Benni pick up his phone from the floor and sprint out of the room.

“What the hell…” Kevin mutters.

Julian looks up from his game and giggles. “Once Benni left his phone out in the locker room and I saw a text from Mats. I would be a hell of a lot redder if that message was addressed to me.”

Matthias pauses his game. “Yeah, Mats doesn’t let anyone near his phone. Once, Erik and I tried to steal it. Well, I tried to convince Erik to help me steal it, but that’s a whole other story. I mean, what the hell could he be doing that requires absolute secrecy?”

“Did you ever get to see what he was hiding?” Kevin decides to join what might be the most interesting conversation of the night.

Matthias looks at Julian before answering carefully. “Yeah, um, he has a good reason to keep his phone locked up. I mean, you definitely wouldn’t want Bild getting their hands on that.”

It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to say any more for Mats’ (and probably Benni’s) sake, so Kevin gives up the hope of a half decent conversation and turns his attention back to the screen in time to see the final whistle blow on Uruguay’s victory.

~ ~ ~

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

do u think we can room together 2morrow? i dont think jogi is assigning rooms…

To:  Fußballgott :)))

sorry im actually rooming with mulli

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

um

??????

To:  Fußballgott :)))

lol

jkjkjk

of course i want to room wth my fav idiot

getting 2 old 2 take a joke :P

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

:P shut up manu would have killed u anyway if u tried to room with mulli

oh did u know benni and mats are a thing?? i just overheard jule and matze

To:  Fußballgott :)))

idk

actually no theyre not

per told me that mats tries to flirt with benni all the time and benni flirts back but every time mats tries to make a move benni gets all red and pretends it didnt happen. poor guy is still in denial

theyre obviously into each other so idk what theyre waiting for tbh

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

gotta feel bad for mats. tough love

hopefully theyll figure it out

To:  Fußballgott :)))

yeah i guess. we should prob go 2 sleep soon tho

i wanna wake up early and run on the beach

u coming?

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

wouldnt miss it for the world

~ ~ ~

Per, sprawled across one of the couches with his legs dangling off the end, picks his head off the arm of the couch and looks around. “Where's Poldi?”

Mesut doesn’t even look up from his book as he replies, “What reason could you possibly have for wanting to disturb the peace and quiet with Poldi’s presence?”

“I’m bored,” Per says. “Why is Poldi never here?”

Everyone rolls their eyes. “Are you actually asking that question?” Jerome deadpans. “Obviously he's talking to a special someone. He gets to see you all the time in London.”

“Ugh, I know, but he literally talks to Basti every waking moment. You’d think they’d get tired of each other by now,” Per says.

Mesut snorts, but still refuses to take his eyes off his book. He’s determined to acquire at least some intelligence in order to counter the amount of stupidity he’s surrounded by. Sami doesn’t have Mesut’s self-control and he opens his mouth in preparation for a snarky comment, but Ron-Robert beats him to it. “Speaking of Lukas and Bastian, I meant to tell you guys something after the match but I forgot.”

“What is it?” Per demands, sitting up straight.

“Well, you know how Mats scored? Well, when he came over to the bench to celebrate, I happened to look over at Bastian and guess what he was doing?” He pauses for dramatic effect and Per eagerly indicates for him to go on. “He was patting Lukas’ head! As if Lukas somehow contributed to the goal! I’m not even sure if he actually congratulated Mats or not because he was so focused on Lukas.”

“I just found the perfect word to describe those two idiots.” Mesut finally peels his eyes away from his book and points at a word on the page. “It’s this lovely thing called denial.”

~ ~ ~

To: Samiiiii

hey can i talk to u privately

i mean like is there anyone that could possibly read this over ur shoulder or smth

To: Toniiiii

sure, everyone here is busy

whats up? everything alright with u?

To: Samiiiii

yeah no everythings fine i just got a call from my agent

apparently real madrid has an offer for me

and im kinda considering it?

idk everything is still strictly talk so dont tell but i wanna ask your opinion and all that

To: Toniiiii

in all honesty the club is kind of a mess rn

like we won la decima but theres lots of problems

di maria wants to leave and casillas and arbeloa are having their captaincy dispute

but i mean its still really really great despite all that

i think if u really want the move its def worth it :)

~ ~ ~

Toni stares at the message for a while as he weighs the pros and cons of leaving the club that he’s spent the majority of his life at, that has given him so much. He groans as his head starts spinning. Goddamn transfer window.

“Dude, you look like you’re going to puke,” Mario says cheerfully. He’s never been good at the whole concept of "being comforting," but at least he notices something is wrong.

“It’s nothing,” Toni lies. “There’s just some stuff on my mind.”

“Okay, whatever you say, buddy,” Mario says with a shrug, and he stuffs a large bite of pretzel in his mouth as he walks over to where André is sitting. “You know, when I’m not feeling so good, I find that large amounts of pretzels help.”

“Mario, that’s because you eat your feelings,” André sighs. “It’s not one of your best habits.” He gives Toni a look that probably means Ignore him, he’s missing Marco again.

This is proven to be correct a second later when Mario complains through a mouthful of pretzel, “I miss Marco.”

“Yeah, but when don’t you miss Marco?” André mutters.

Mario ignores him and continues, “He always buys me pretzels. The nice kind too, with all the different toppings and dips. Once, he found a little store that sold pizza pretzels. The pretzel was completely covered in this amazing mozzarella and marinara mix.  It was insane.”

“And if you don’t shut up about pretzels like, right now, I’ll tell Marco that you’ve found something that makes you happier than he does,” André says threateningly.

“Now, now, let’s try and be a little nicer to each other,” Miro interjects as Mario pouts at his friend. “But honestly Mario, it’s nearly midnight and you’re still eating?”

Mario answers the question by slowly and stubbornly chewing another mouthful of his snack. Shkodran and Roman collapse into fits of laughter at Miro and André’s exasperated expressions, and Toni uses the distraction to sneak out of the lounge and back to his room without further questioning. Like any other person would, he decides the best way to solve his dilemma is to embrace complete unconsciousness for a few hours and just face the problem later.

****

June 21, 2014 - Match vs Ghana; Arena Castelão, Fortaleza

It takes quite a lot for Jogi to lose his cool, but bad passing has always, always irked him, and the first half of the match has Jogi nearly frustrated enough to forget to touch-up his hair. When the team has gathered in the locker room for halftime, Jogi takes his usual spot on top of a bench and peers disappointedly at the team.

“We have to be better than this. Our passing was very messy. In fact, it was messier than...than -” Jogi stops to think of a poetic analogy - “than a…”

“A guy named Messi,” Thomas whispers quietly to anyone who is paying attention to him (so it’s really only Manu).

Manuel chokes down a laugh and whispers back, “Stop Messi 2k14.” They discreetly give each other a high five to celebrate their cleverness as Jogi struggles to continue his speech.

“Messier than a sloppy Joe sandwich,” he decides after a minute of deliberation. “You better fix this because if you don’t, I’ll eat you.” The players all look at each other with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

Hansi steps in quickly. “What he means is, you’ll all feel the consequences during your upcoming training sessions. He’s not actually going to eat you. Hopefully.”

Jogi takes Jerome out for the second half and puts Shkodran in his place. Possibly as a direct result of their coach’s unconventional threat to eat them, the team’s passing improves enough for Mario to capitalize on a sublime cross from Thomas and put Germany one goal ahead. Mario celebrates by gazing skywards, and they all immediately know that the goal is dedicated to the one teammate who he desperately wants to celebrate with but can’t.

Jogi’s sigh of relief is almost immediately interrupted by an impressive Ghanaian equalizer just a few minutes later. Miro and Bastian begin warming up when Ghana scores a second goal. Miro feels his stomach turn and it reminds him of the way he felt when he made his first appearance in the World Cup all those years ago. Right from the morning, he had sensed that today was going to be an important day, and now he’s starting to think he knows why. When Jogi finally subs him and Bastian in for Mario and Sami, Miro can feel the anticipation building, and he knows the moment has arrived.

Toni boots in his usual glorious corner kick and Benni rises to meet it. Time seems to slow down for Miro as he watches the ball soar closer and closer, in the air for an eternity. But the ball isn’t going to make it into the net, Miro thinks. And upon that realization, Miro makes his split-second decision. He slides into the ball, and the ball slides into the net.

Usually, there’s a deafening roar from the crowd after a goal, but Miro can’t hear any of it. It doesn’t make sense to him, this goal is just another goal, Germany still isn’t winning, it shouldn’t even matter, but it does. His teammates run towards him, celebrating, cheering, congratulating, praising. Without really thinking, Miro launches himself into his signature front flip. He falls, doesn’t land it properly, but it doesn’t matter, not to his teammates, not to the fans, not to the world, because in his fourth and final appearance at the tournament, he, Miroslav Klose, has tied the all-time World Cup goal scoring record. And when the match ends, he knows that the game itself will not be remembered, but that one crucial moment always will.

****

June 22, 2014 - Campo Bahia

“Opa! Opa! Opa!” Thomas chants, much to the embarrassment of Miro. He bangs his fists on the table in an effort to get everyone else to join along.

“Honestly, Thomas, I’m trying to eat. I thought you finished celebrating last night,” Miro says, hoping that it will shut his overexcited friend up.

“The time for celebrating will never end,” Manuel says solemnly from his usual spot next to Thomas. “You’re a hero and we will honor you for the rest of time.”

“Okay, seriously, there is no reason to sound like I saved the world or something,” Miro sighs. “I simply scored a goal. That’s all.”

“But it was a really important goal,” Erik says earnestly. “Not just because it was the record tying goal and all, although that’s pretty awesome too. You also kept us from losing, don’t forget.” He has such a grateful, genuine smile on his face that Miro can’t bring himself to say anything else to make the team stop talking about it, so he settles for ruffling the boy's hair instead before standing up to go get more coffee.

Erik doesn't bother hiding his pleased expression. He knows that Miro hates when the attention is focused solely on him instead of the whole team, and he feels proud of himself for reminding Miro that his goal did have a significant impact on the team.

“Are you sure he’s not going to adopt you or something?” Matthias laughs at the way Erik practically idolizes Miro.

Erik looks indignant. “Shove it up your a-” He stops mid-word when the room goes quiet and turns bright red once he realizes Jogi is standing behind him.

Jogi refrains from rolling his eyes and decides it's best to just get his speech done with. “Good morning everyone. I have a few announcements to make,” Jogi begins, but is quickly interrupted by an unnecessary chorus of “Good morning Jogi,” that is no doubt led by Thomas. Hansi puts a comforting hand on Jogi's shoulder while glaring at the rest of the team. Everyone feels a little guilty for causing their coach so much pain, but it's too funny to resist.

Jogi takes a few moments to compose himself before continuing. "Alright, we're only going to have a few hours of practice in the morning. Your afternoon will not be spent under my care because all of you are going to go golfing with Martin Kaymer. And before you ask, no, you may not stay here. It is a team building exercise. I don't care if you're atrocious at golf. Embarrassing yourself is a skill. Ask Thomas. Okay. That's it. Go back to breakf-" he doesn't get the chance to finish because the team takes his advice to heart immediately and turns to Thomas. As the air fills with overly-sarcastic inquiries regarding the relative difficulty of embarrassing oneself, Jogi turns to Hansi and sighs, "The one time I don't want to be taken seriously and this happens. How is this my life? What did I do to deserve this?" Hansi tries to look as empathetic as possible as he leads Jogi away for a much-needed moment of peace.

****

The golfing trip is full of surprises, the biggest of these being Thomas' remarkable skill at the sport. He and Philipp are clearly miles ahead of the rest of the team and breeze through each hole effortlessly. No one can believe their eyes when they see Thomas swing the club with perfect posture. In fact, for the first time ever, the word that comes to mind to describe Thomas is graceful.

“Is that actually Thomas?” Christoph asks in amazement as he, Matthias, Erik, and Julian watch from a distance.

“It’s so weird to see him like this, isn’t it?” Matze says with some admiration. “He makes it look so easy.”

Unfortunately, the rest of the team is finding that in fact, it is not easy at all. Saying that they’re flailing helplessly at every hole is putting it kindly.

“I can play football. I can play basketball. I can ski. You know what I can’t do?” Bastian winces as his ball rolls depressingly far from the intended target. “I can’t play golf.”

“Aha! We’ve found the weak spot of the great midfield general!” Lukas teases.

“Yeah, why don’t you try getting that damn ball down the hole?” Bastian grumbles. He hands Lukas the club. Much to Bastian’s disappointment, Lukas makes it in on his second try.

“Easy,” Lukas says with a grin. He motions for Bastian to join him. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

****

June 23, 2014 - Campo Bahia

“He had his arms around him?” Manuel whispers in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

Thomas shrugs. “I’m telling you, it happened. I saw it. His excuse was that he was trying to teach Basti how to golf properly.”

“What are you two whispering about now?” Benni jogs up alongside them as they start their fourth lap around the training pitch. “The two of you gossip more than the WAGs do around the pool.”

With a worryingly mischievous smile, Thomas replies, “Why don’t you ask Mats?”

It strikes Benni as an odd question, but he looks around anyway, realizing that Mats hasn’t joined him. The other man is hanging back, keeping a safe distance between himself and Thomas. He sighs and hurries to join the group when Benni sends him a questioning glance.

“Hi Mats.” Thomas’ smile widens.

“What poisonous thoughts has he been feeding into your head?” Mats asks Benni, trying very hard to ignore the hearts signs Thomas is making with his hands.

“Nothing, he’s just being weird as usual,” Benni says.

“Don’t be mean,” Manuel says, frowning. “Thomas is just unique. And cool.”

“Right,” Mats and Benni say together in disbelief. Thomas struggles to contain his laughter as Benni blushes profusely.

“You know what’s actually cool?” Mats asks, presumably talking to Manuel and Thomas (but it’s hard to tell because his eyes never leave Benni’s face). “The fact that Benni assisted Miro’s record-tying goal. Like, one of the most important goals in history ever and our Benni is the one who made it possible.”

“More like your Benni,” Thomas corrects under his breath, quietly enough that only Manuel can hear him.

It doesn’t seem possible, but Benni turns even redder. “Seriously Mats, I keep telling you, it’s not that big of a deal,” he says. “You make it sound more important than it actually is.”

“It is important though,” Mats insists. And you’re important too, he almost adds, but decides against it because Thomas would never let him live that down.

“Alright, team,” Jogi calls, interrupting all the various conversations taking place. “Today we’re going to play rugby. And I know what you all are thinking. You’re thinking, ‘Well how does this help us, Jogi? We play football!’ But it does help us. With, um, with-”

“Communication, positioning, offensive movement, and defensive covering,” Hansi fills in smoothly, helpfully saving Jogi from embarrassment. “So you all better take this seriously, okay? Oh, and the goalkeepers won’t be playing.” Manuel, Ron-Robert, and Roman all frown slightly. “Cheer up, boys, you have some specialized training to do today.” The goalkeepers perk up a little at that and run off to find their trainer on the other end of the pitch.

Jogi and Hansi assign them teams, which causes a bit of grumbling, but no one really complains because they all get along spectacularly. Mesut, Sami, Jerome, Per, Lukas, Mats, Julian, Erik, Matthias, and Christoph end up on one team, with Kevin, Benni, Bastian, André, Miro, Thomas, Philipp, Toni, Mario, and Shkodran on the other. As expected, it takes a few moments for them to organize themselves. Everyone starts clamoring about, telling each other who they will be marking.

“I got Boa.” Toni grins as he looks at his friend from across the field. “That bastard is going down.”

“I’ll have Mats covered,” Benni says timidly, hoping Thomas won’t say anything overly embarrassing about his claim. “Someone better get Jule though, the kid is crazy fast.” And, of course, to nobody’s surprise, Bastian calls dibs on Lukas.

Both teams struggle at first, which no one is really shocked or upset about; after all, they aren’t professional rugby players. But soon, they start to pick things up and actually begin playing quite well.

Philipp sees Thomas standing in a great position and makes a pass to his teammate. “I GOT IT, I GOT IT!” Thomas calls out. He runs to catch it, but when the ball reaches him, it bounces out of his outstretched arms, and in typical fashion, he trips over his own feet trying to retrieve it.

As he regains his balance and laughs about his fumble, Jogi sighs and stops the game to explain to the rest of the team, “Well, there you have it. A prime example of what not to do. Letting the ball get away from you that way would be like if Argentina won the World Cup here in Brazil.” Everyone looks at each other in amusement, wondering how those two events could possibly be related. “It would be a very disastrous thing,” Jogi clarifies. All he gets in response are blank stares, so Jogi just rolls his eyes and whistles for the game to continue.

Thanks to a stroke of luck and quite a display of skill from Kevin, Bastian finds himself jumping up to catch a perfectly thrown ball. He lands with the ball clutched triumphantly in his hands and immediately collides with a large body mass, causing both of them to fall and the ball to roll out of Bastian’s grasp. Bastian doesn’t even need to look to know it’s Lukas.

“Ow, damn it Basti, I think I bruised my ass,” Lukas groans dramatically, but they’re both already laughing.

“Always the drama queen. Queen Poldi, not Prinz,” Bastian teases. “Come here, you want me to make it better?”

“No no no,” Lukas says breathlessly as he tries to scramble away, but it’s too late, Bastian has him pinned to ground.

“What is going on over there?” Shkodran wonders aloud. “I want to keep playing, what are they even doing? Why is Bastian on top of Lukas?”

“Is Bastian tickling Lukas?” Kevin asks incredulously. “Oh my god, they’re not even trying anymore, are they?”

Everyone watches the two overgrown children roll around on the grass with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. The older players are having trouble keeping themselves from rolling their eyes and the younger players are giggling to each other as they wait for Jogi’s irritated yelling to start. Sure enough, Jogi reaches into his pocket for his whistle, determined to put an end to the stupidity.

“He’s not going to find it,” Thomas whispers loudly to his team. He reaches into his own pocket, pulling out their coach’s whistle.

“God damn it, Thomas, why do you insist on making the poor man’s life miserable?” Philipp hisses, hoping Jogi won’t hear the conversation.

Thomas cackles a bit. “Because it’s funny, duh.”

Jogi continues searching for a few seconds before Hansi takes pity on him and hands him his own whistle. Bastian and Lukas stop their ridiculous antics when Jogi finally blows the whistle.

“First of all, who stole my whistle?” Jogi demands. No one says anything. “If I don’t get my whistle back in five seconds, everyone is running a mile. No, not running, sprinting.”

“Ah, Coach, look what I found!” Thomas bends over and “picks” something up. “You must have dropped this before. Nobody stole anything.” He grins and offers the whistle to Jogi, who squints suspiciously at him before deciding it’s not worth the trouble and taking his prized possession back.

“You’re a sneaky little devil, you know that?” Miro says quietly, raising an eyebrow at Thomas. “It’s a wonder we’re all able to put up with you.”

“You love me,” Thomas says, unbothered.

“All right, guys, the game is over,” Jogi says dryly. “And it looks like Per’s team has won. Congratulations.”

The aforementioned team starts jumping and cheering in celebration before gathering for a picture. Apparently, Thomas had not been paying attention before (because what else is new) and just as the picture is being taken, he wanders into the frame.

“Get out of here! You can’t be in the winner’s picture!” Lukas says, trying to wave him away.

“Kiss my ass.” Thomas sticks his backside out and tries to sit on a horrified Lukas, and through all the chaos, the picture ends up being taken anyway.

****

To:  Fußballgott :)))

omg theres a cat here. its so cute i wanna keep it

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

wtf

lukas its like 1 am

To:  Fußballgott :)))

but this cat is just so cute basti

and u replied so obviously ur awake :P

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

only because you woke me up

To:  Fußballgott :)))

sorry not sorry

let me send u a pic of the cat tho

then ull understand

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

youre impossible

but ok ur right that cat is rly cute

wait why r u telling me now tho. it looks like daytime in the pic

To:  Fußballgott :)))

i forgot until it started scratching at my door

also i need ur help naming it

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

its 1 am can we name it in the morning

To:  Fußballgott :)))

ugh fine

the things i do for u

oh 1 more thing

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

what else could u possibly need to tell me at 1 in the morning

To:  Fußballgott :)))

sorry sorry

usually ur here so i dont forget this stuff

but arne wanted 2 do an interview on the beach 2morrow, wanna come with me?

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

of course i will

and sorry didnt mean to sound so harsh im just tired

u know me. i get a bit bitchy

To:  Fußballgott :)))

dont worry about it :)

good night basti

Lukas stares at his phone, waiting for one last text from his friend. When no reply comes, Lukas assumes Bastian just fell asleep on him, but he still throws the phone aside a little harder than intended, causing it to bounce off the bed. He doesn’t bother picking it up and it takes another hour for him to slip into an uneasy sleep.

****

June 24, 2014 - Beach at Campo Bahia

Lukas is uncharacteristically quiet as they walk down to the beach. He’s been quiet all day, even during training. It’s not a comfortable sort of silence either, and Bastian wonders if he should ask what’s wrong or not. He coughs slightly awkwardly as a test and when Lukas doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, he decides he better not say anything. Lukas clearly has something important on his mind; Bastian ignores the slight hurt he feels that Lukas isn’t sharing it with him.

Arne is already waiting when they arrive. Lukas throws down his towel and walks over to greet him. “Hey guys!” Arne says cheerfully. “I didn’t know Basti would be tagging along. But then again, I’m not very surprised.”

“I won’t be interrupting, don’t worry. I’ll just wait at the side,” Bastian says, looking nervously at Lukas for a reaction. Lukas’ expression remains unreadable.

“Hey, it’s no problem! It’s great to see you guys again.” Arne seems oblivious to the weird tension between the two friends.

Bastian walks away and spreads out his towel neatly on the sand. (Lukas’ is still lying in a heap where he had left it before.) He’s left alone with his thoughts as Arne and Lukas talk in front of the camera and the more he thinks, the more he begins to worry that it’s something really serious.

And then, it’s suddenly as if nothing happened at all, because after the interview, Lukas leans over to Bastian and whispers, “We’re totally dumping him in the water.” Bastian is still confused about the cause of Lukas’ strange mood earlier, but he readily agrees. They pose for a few pictures and then Lukas and Bastian lift Arne into the air and carry him over to the ocean, laughing as they try to throw him into the water, but end up falling in themselves as well.

The atmosphere is much improved when Arne finally excuses himself and leaves the two of them alone. Bastian is relieved, but something still feels a little off to him. Lukas looks like he’s having the time of his life, though, so Bastian feels content to ignore it for now. They go swimming for a little while longer, then proceed to spend another hour or so just walking along the beach, picking up particularly unique shells to bring back home for Louis.

By the time they return to where their towels are still lying, Bastian feels that everything between them is mostly back to normal, so he tentatively asks, “Hey, Luki, you would tell me if anything was wrong, right? Like, you know you can tell me anything?”

Lukas looks slightly bewildered, but he replies, “Of course, Basti. You’re always going to be the first person I tell if something is wrong, you know that.”

“Yeah, just making sure.” Bastian thinks he sees a flash of guilt on Lukas’ face, but it’s gone before he can be certain.

It almost returns to the previous level of awkwardness, but a Twitter notification on Lukas’ phone saves the day. Lukas opens the tweet and collapses into a fit of laughter.

“Oh my god, I swear, Thomas is behind this.” He holds up his phone for Bastian to see. It’s the national team’s official Twitter and it has tweeted a picture of a horse they had apparently found hanging around near the training pitch.

“How in the world did he manage that?” Bastian shakes his head. “Do you really think it’s him that did it?”

“Who else would it be? Thomas is obsessed with horses, plus he probably feels connected to Lisa or something when he’s around them,” Lukas says.

Bastian nods in agreement. “We’ll just have to ask him at dinner or something.”

****

“I can’t wait to see what we have for dinner, I’m starving,” Ron-Robert groans.

“Hold up there, we’re almost in the dining room,” Per says, amused.

The hallway is filled with shouting and laughter as Erik, Julian, and Matthias run past Per, Ron-Robert, and Jerome with Mats and Benni chasing after them.

“Remind me to never have kids,” Mats pants as he and Benni stop to catch their breaths.

“Looks like it’s a little too late for that!” Jerome says as they watch the three youngest players race each other down the hallway.

“I win!” Erik shouts gleefully.

“No you didn’t,” Matthias protests. “Benni, didn’t you see? I was totally ahead of them!”

“Hey, now, don’t drag Benni into your little conflict,” Mats says, shaking his head. “How about you go calm yourselves down and get ready for dinner?”

“But Mats! We have to have a winner!” they exclaim in unison.

“Come on, just listen to Mats, guys,” Benni says. “You can figure out who won later.”

“Ugh, fine, mom.” Julian sticks his tongue out at Benni before the trio walks off, still arguing amongst themselves over who won.

Jerome, Per, and Ron-Robert look on in amazement as Mats leans over and whispers something into Benni’s ear, causing Benni to turn bright red. He excuses himself, saying something about using the bathroom, leaving Mats to watch him go with a strangely sad expression on his face.

“What’d you say to him?” Per asks curiously.

Mats thinks for a moment, deciding whether or not he wants to let the whole world know about his dilemma. Then he realizes that most of them probably already know; after all, Thomas knows, and when does he ever keep these things to himself? “I just said that I actually wouldn’t mind raising kids if it was with him. You know, as friends, cause we make a good team. Drift compatibility and all that.”

Per smiles sympathetically, like he knows how much of a lie the latter statement is. “You know what, I’m going to go talk to him. Maybe help him see the light,” Per says, making a split-second decision.

“What,” Mats says, but the taller man is already gone.

“Just let it happen,” Ron-Robert suggests. “Now, can we please get a move on because I am still starving!”

They file into the dining hall and Mats is able to secure two seats by the three youngsters; one for him, one for Benni. He can hear Thomas animatedly telling Bastian and Lukas about a horse at one end of the table with Jogi and Hansi discussing new strategies at the other end. Five, maybe ten, minutes pass and Mats can’t stop glancing at the door. Still no sign of Benni or Per. Suddenly, there’s a tug on his sleeve and he forces himself to tear his eyes away from the door.

“Yeah, yeah, what is it?” he asks distractedly. He turns and faces Julian, who’s looking down at his plate and poking at the pork chops.

Mats doesn’t know Julian nearly as well as Benni does, but he immediately knows what’s wrong. “Uh oh, you’re gonna have to tell Jogi.” If only Benni were here, he would handle this better, Mats thinks a little helplessly.

“I don’t know how,” Julian says sadly.

“What do you mean you don’t know how?” Mats asks, bewildered. Dear god, Benni please come back.

Julian struggles to find the right way to explain. “Well,” he says, “I never actually address Jogi. He always talks to me first. The most I say is ‘Good morning’ or ‘Yes, Coach.’ I don’t know what to do, Mats.”

Jesus, Benni, where are you, I need help handling this child. “Um, I’m not gonna pretend like I know the best way to go about doing this, but I think you just need to do whatever you’re comfortable with,” Mats says awkwardly. He cringes a little when he realizes how much he sounds like a psychiatrist instead of a parent. Damn it, I’m not even his parent, why am I doing this to myself?

Meanwhile, Julian has timidly raised his hand, much to the amusement of everyone else at the table. “Um,” he says quietly. Jogi doesn’t notice him, but Hansi sees the poor boy and chuckles softly. “Um, Mr. Jogi?” Julian says, a little louder this time. Jogi finally looks up, startled. He doesn’t say anything, probably out of shock, and Julian sees it as a chance to continue. “Uh, my mom only lets me eat kosher, so um, are these pork chops kosher?” He’s a deep shade of red at this point, and apart from Mats, the entire team is stifling their laughter.

“What,” Jogi says.

“I’m Jewish and um, we don’t eat non-kosher stuff, so um yeah…” he trails off, not quite sure how to end his rambling.

Jogi starts to recover from his initial shock. “Oh, okay then. I’m sure we can ask the cooks to prepare something else. It won’t be a problem.”

Julian sighs in relief. “Wow, thanks, Mr. Jogi.”

“Just one thing, Draxler,” Jogi says. “I’m not some kind of freaking schoolteacher. You don’t have to call me Mr. Jogi.” With that, Jogi turns away and returns to his food. The rest of the team can no longer hold back their laughter and the air is filled with everyone giggling and generally enjoying the unexpected entertainment.

“I want to hide under the table and never come out,” Julian says as the waiters are directed to his seat.

“You did well,” Mats says, feeling strangely fond.

“Yeah, the Mr. Jogi thing was classic,” Matthias says with a grin.

“Shut up.” Julian can feel his blush creeping back.

Benni and Per choose this moment to show up in the dining room. Benni lingers in the doorway while Per walks up to Mats. “I think you two need a moment,” he says. “Go on, he’s waiting.”

“Yeah, come on Mats, you have to,” Julian says. “Trust me, I would know.”

“I doubt you’re more knowledgeable than me, but okay,” Mats grumbles. He takes a few deep breaths to steel himself before getting up from his seat.

“It’s going to be fine,” Erik says sincerely as Per nods in agreement. Not feeling very reassured, Mats walks over to Benni, and they quietly leave the room.

On the other end of the table, Thomas whispers very loudly to anyone within hearing distance, “This team is so full of relationship drama, it’s ridiculous.”

“What are you talking about? It’s literally just the two of them,” Bastian says. “And Marco and Mario, but they're fine, aren’t they?”

Lukas stabs his piece of pork and doesn’t say anything. Thomas, for once, is speechless. Is Lukas finally figuring it out? Judging by the way Lukas avoids eye contact with anyone for the rest of dinner, Thomas safely assumes that the answer is yes.

****

Mats and Benni walk in complete silence to Benni’s room, which in itself is weird because usually they can’t stop talking to each other. Benni wipes his sweaty hands on his shorts, cursing himself for always being such a coward. When they enter the room, Mats immediately sprawls himself across the bed out of pure habit, which makes Benni smile a little.

“Sure, just go right ahead and make yourself comfortable,” Benni teases.

“Sorry.” Mats sits up.

“I’m just kidding, man. God, I don’t even know where to start,” Benni says, suddenly feeling even more nervous. He’s grateful that he hasn’t eaten dinner yet because he’s a bit nauseous right now.

“I don’t know either,” Mats says. He tugs at his dark curls in frustration. They sit in silence for a few moments. “Look, Benni,” he blurts out suddenly, “you’re my best friend and I would never ever risk that for anything but, god, you can’t look me in the eye and honestly say that you haven’t been feeling this, whatever this is, too.”

And the fact is, no, he really can’t. “Mats.” Benni sits down next to him. “I can’t. I just can’t. I’m stupid. I’m a coward. I wish I could be brave like you, but I can’t do it. It’s just not in me.”

“Benni,” Mats pleads, “I don’t want to be another Lukas and Bastian. Do you see them? I can’t handle ten years of this shit. And look at the team, too. Jule was practically begging me to do something about this and I just. Please, Benni.”

“You know, he saw those texts you sent me. The ones from the beginning, when we passed this off as a joke,” Benni says, smiling wryly.

“Oh my god, the poor kid.” Mats grins in spite of himself. “No wonder he was so desperate to get us to actually talk about it.”

Benni buries his head in his hands. “This is so messed up. You’re probably the most important person in my life, you know that? And all I want to do half of the time is run away. Hell, that’s all I ever do, don’t I?”

“But you don’t have to,” Mats says gently. “What’s the worst that can happen if you stay?”

“I might never be able to leave again,” Benni whispers. “And I don’t know if you would want that, or if you would even be okay with it, and -”

“Benni, they say I’m the stupid one, but god, how oblivious can you be?” Mats cuts him off, exasperated. “You actually think I ever want you to go?” And Mats is honestly done with talking at this point, Benni’s face is so close.

Oh god, Benni thinks. Mats is giving him the look and usually this would be when he makes a run for it, but his legs refuse to work. He starts thinking about a million different things he could do to prevent the inevitable, and then suddenly he’s not thinking about anything at all. Suddenly, the only logical thing to do is shut his eyes and lean in and close the final inches separating him and Mats.

“Benni.” Mats breaks the kiss after several long moments, resting his forehead against Benni’s, his eyes gazing deeply into Benni’s. “Benni, I’m only going to do this if you’re totally okay with it.”

“The only thing I’m not totally okay with right now is the fact that you’re not still kissing me,” Benni breathes.

“Well, we better fix that then, shouldn’t we?” Mats says with a smirk, and when he leans in again, Benni can no longer remember what he was so afraid of because this is everything he’s ever wanted and it’s perfect.

Chapter Text

June 25, 2014 - Campo Bahia

Thomas wakes up to find that his head feels sore and - sticky? Groaning, he places his hand on his head and when he pulls it away, it’s covered in blood. “Uh oh,” he mumbles.

As he sits up carefully, the door opens and Philipp walks in. “Thomas! Rise and shine! We’re leaving for the hotel in - oh my god, what is that?” Philipp breaks off, looking horrified. His tone immediately shifts from cheerful to desperately concerned. “Mülli, what did you do to yourself?”

“Promise you won’t be mad?” Thomas says in a small voice. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, which worries Philipp even more.

“Of course, Mülli, I’m just worried about you,” Philipp says, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, you know how I got hit in the head against Ghana?” Thomas says slowly. “I may have kind of not done everything the physios told me to do. You know, skipped a few, maybe kinda important, things here and there.”

“Why?” Philipp demands.

“I wanted Opa to get the spotlight!” Thomas says defensively. “He deserves it, he’s been waiting for this moment for so long.”

“But that doesn’t mean you put your own health in danger!” Philipp says, exasperated. “Come on, you’re going to the physio right now.”

“But I need to pee,” Thomas whines.

Philipp sighs. Even with blood covering half his face, Thomas still manages to come up with a messed-up list of priorities. “All right. Meet me downstairs in 10 minutes, okay? We’re going to get you fixed up before breakfast. Oh, and next time, Mülli, you’re going to tell us if something is wrong immediately.” It’s the kind of statement that Thomas would usually laugh off with a “Whatever you say, Fips!” but Philipp gives him his best captain glare and Thomas nods quickly in agreement instead.

****

Manuel looks up from his piece of Nutella-covered toast when he realizes something isn't quite right. “Hang on a second. Where’s Mülli?”

“I saw him and Philipp walking to the physio,” Christoph says. “It didn't look too good, honestly, Thomas was holding his head and Fips was helping him walk.”

“Why didn't anyone tell me? I should have gone with him,” Manuel says sulkily. “Soul brothers have to stick together.”

“Don’t worry, Manu, I’ll come with you later to see Thomas if he doesn’t come to breakfast,” Christoph says earnestly.

“Thanks, Christoph, that’s nice of you.” Manuel ruffles the younger man’s hair gratefully before returning his attention to his toast.

Miro overhears the conversation and immediately turns to Erik in a panic. “Erik, didn’t I say Thomas was definitely neglecting his therapy? Didn’t I say so? Oh my god, that kid.”

“Miro, I’m sure he’s fine,” Erik tries to reassure him.

“What if it opens up on the pitch tomorrow? It could get infected or something,” Miro frets. “This is all my fault, I should have insisted that he take care of himself better.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t really think he would have listened anyway,” Matthias says from next to Erik. “Erik’s right, Miro, he’s going to be alright.”

“You know what?” Manuel stands up from his seat. “I’m going to bring a whole bunch of food and visit Thomas. We can have a small party and yell at him for being stupid. It’ll be fun.”

“Will it still be fun when Jogi kills us for bringing food into the medical area?” Julian asks quietly.

Matthias grins and whispers, “Don’t you mean Mr. Jogi?”

“Ugh, shut up, that was one time,” Julian moans. “We should let someone know we’re going, though. Where are Mats and Benni? I’ll go tell them we’re leaving so they know where to find us.”

“Um, they’re a bit busy at the moment,” Bastian says in warning. “I would recommend not going anywhere near Benni’s room until they decide to leave.”

Lukas rolls his eyes. “They kept Basti up until 3 am and Basti kept me up to complain about it. But you guys can go ahead. We’ll let them know if they ask, whenever they show up.”

“Honestly, I prefer this over watching them obliviously flirt all day. It took them long enough,” Bastian says. Everyone stops in their place and stares at him incredulously. “What?”

“It’s nothing, Basti. You guys should go see Thomas. The bus leaves in a couple hours,” Lukas says, improvising on the spot. His ears are slightly pink and he’s staring angrily at his coffee. The rest of the team heads to the medical area and Per pats Lukas’ shoulder sympathetically on the way out.

Bastian waits for the room to empty before turning back to Lukas. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Basti,” Lukas sighs. He doesn’t say anything more than a few short replies for the rest of breakfast, forcing Bastian to settle for another hour of uncomfortable silence.

What is going on? Bastian stabs at his fruit in frustration. It’s especially worrisome that the silence is coming from Lukas, who usually never stops talking for any reason whatsoever.

Benni and Mats casually stroll in after about an hour, Mats’ arm wrapped around Benni’s shoulders. They’re both positively glowing, looking like the two happiest people on Earth, and Bastian can’t help but feel a little jealous.

“Morning,” Mats says, greeting them with a beaming smile.

Benni looks around at the empty dining hall. “Where is everyone? Jule didn’t text me or anything. He usually lets me know if they’re going somewhere.” He looks slightly worried, and Mats squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“Thomas had to go to the physio this morning,” Lukas explains. “They’ve all gone to throw him a party and scold him for not taking better care of himself.”

“Oh, okay.” Benni looks relieved. “For a second there, I was afraid Jule had gone and done something stupid. He’s so gullible sometimes, I worry.”

“Yeah, well, we can all be a little stupid sometimes,” Lukas says. Mats thinks that he sees Lukas glance in Bastian’s direction, but it could just be his imagination.

****

Jogi’s quiet morning walk is interrupted when he hears a voice shout, “Hurry up, we’re going to be late! Jogi’s gonna kill us!”

"Someone grab the blueberry muffin! And don’t just leave the pretzels lying there!" another voice calls.

“Damn it, Mario. Priorities!” the first voice shouts back.

Jogi takes a brief moment to mutter to himself, “Good lord, it never ends.” Seconds later, a giant horde of players barrels across his path, heading towards an unknown destination. Everyone is in too much of a rush to notice their coach a short distance away, in the middle of an existential crisis. “I miss Jürgen,” he mumbles. Then he remembers that Jürgen Klinsmann is literally just as excitable as the players and amends his statement. “Well, I at least miss Jürgen having to deal with the madness instead of me.” He takes out his cellphone and makes a note to himself for tomorrow. Reminder: ask Jürgen for Advice. aka How to Deal with a Team of Idiots.

****

June 26, 2014 - Match vs USA; Arena Pernambuco, Recife

“I love the Americans,” Thomas declares as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“Is it because they’re as loud and obnoxious as you?” Bastian asks teasingly. Even from the locker room, the distant chants of USA! USA! USA! can be heard. Bastian would bet his yearly salary that there are at least twenty bald eagle costumes scattered throughout the overenthusiastic crowd.

Thomas pouts a little. “Well, I think they’re exciting, unlike you lot.”

“Hey, I’m exciting,” Hansi protests. The team immediately agrees. (They all have a collective adoration for Hansi.)

“What about me?” Jogi asks. Everyone sends amused glances to each other, unsure of how to answer.

“Of course you’re also exciting,” Philipp says quickly before changing the topic. “But um, shouldn’t you be doing your speech now?”

“Oh. Yes,” Jogi says. “Thank you for reminding me, Philipp.” He takes out a piece of paper and clears his throat. “I worked on this all night.” He looks around as if he’s daring anyone to make a comment about it, but no one does. “So, today we play Jürgen’s t-” He breaks off, looking up from his paper in confusion. “I mean, the United States. Why did I write 'Jürgen’s team' here? We shouldn’t be thinking of this game in terms of our former manager. Ignore the fact that he’s even there. Erase Jürgen from your memories. Well, I mean, until the end of the match. You can all see him after it’s over.”

“He spent all night writing this?” Mario giggles quietly to André, who hastily shushes him but smiles anyway.

“Okay, getting back on track here,” Jogi continues. “A lot of people are saying that we’re just going to play for a draw because it would benefit both of us. But that plan is stupider than that Hobbit, Pippin, in the Lord of the Rings movies.”

“Jogi has watched Lord of the Rings, oh my god,” Jerome whispers gleefully to Toni. “This can’t be real.”

Jogi glances around the locker room and mistakes the whispers for confusion. “You know, Pippin. The short, stupid person from the movie about the rings and that creepy mutant thing?” Hansi coughs behind him and Jogi stops his rambling, resorting back to reading off the paper. “Never mind. The point is, we did not fly all the way to Brazil just to tie with the United States. We came here to prove that brätwurst is superior to hot dogs, that schnitzel is better than - than whatever those damn Americans have. We came here to win, goddamn it. So I want you to go out there and kick some American ass.”

As the team cheers, Thomas grumbles to Manuel, “I hate it when he makes food references. He knows I get hungry before matches.”

“One more thing!” Hansi shouts above the noise, immediately silencing the team. “It’s raining buckets out there, but I think it’s going to stop just in time for us to play. So be ready for a wet pitch.”

“You all are going to be wet and hot, so be prepared for that too,” Jogi adds. Because the team consists of children, giggling erupts around a puzzled Jogi. “What? What did I say?”

“I like when you’re wet and hot,” Mats whispers to Benni. His voice carries farther than he intended and it takes Jogi ten minutes to stop all the catcalling and whistling.

When everything is finally under control, the team files out into the tunnel. For the next few moments, they receive confused looks from the American players who can’t quite grasp why the famous Manuel Neuer is rubbing himself with his gloves, why numbers 4 and 5 are blushing furiously, why the veterans, Podolski and Schweinsteiger, are flirting but pretending that they aren’t, and why the legendary Thomas Müller is acting like a 5-year-old. Everyone turns to Jürgen for an explanation, but their coach just shrugs like it’s normal and tells them to focus.

It’s obvious from the second the match begins that Germany is the superior team, yet the Americans hold on and it’s still 0-0 by the time half time comes around.

“I’m not sure how we’re not winning,” Jogi says. He runs his fingers through his uncharacteristically messy hair. Apparently, hairspray can only do so much when it comes to forty-five minutes of downpour. “Their goalkeeper can only get lucky so many times before his luck runs out, so all I can really say is: keep going.”

“Wow, that actually wasn’t a bad speech at all,” Roman says. “I’m impressed.”

“I want to know which strange American god that Tim Howard is praying to, maybe I should join him,” Manuel says consideringly.

“Why? You’re playing amazing!” Christoph is quick to point out. “You’re the best goalkeeper in the world!” Erik and Matthias smother their laughter at Christoph’s blatant hero-worship.

Thomas pats Christoph’s head. “Don’t get Ducky’s head too big. He might end up drowning out there.”

As Thomas walks back onto the field, Christoph turns to Erik and Matthias in confusion. “That didn’t actually make sense, did it? Is it a ‘soul brothers’ thing that I’m not getting?”

Matthias rolls his eyes. “You know, Christoph, maybe if you keep on dreaming really hard, you can join them. Write about it in your diary or something. God knows we need a third one in that group.”

“Be nice,” Erik scolds Matthias. “And pay attention unless you want a damp Jogi Löw yelling at you.”

“He looks more like a soaked puppy if you ask me,” Matthias mutters, inciting a spell of uncontrollable giggles from Erik. Matthias can’t help but join in and the two end up leaning on each other for support as they catch their breath.

“Guys, you seriously need to tone down the flirting there,” Julian teases, which shuts them both up quickly.

“I swear to god, everyone on this stupid team is in love,” André says, rolling his eyes, and the rest of the bench nods in agreement while Lukas and Mario exchange quick glances.

Their attention is returned back to the match in time for them to observe Tim Howard make an admittedly sublime save, only for a glorious strike from Thomas to soar beautifully into the goal. As Thomas leaps around in celebration, the team gathers to hug him and everyone on the bench cheers as well. (Julian rolls his eyes when he spots Mats patting Benni’s back in the group hug and Benni high fiving him in return.)

Thanks to Tim Howard’s valiant efforts, it’s the only goal they’re able to score, but it’s good enough and they revel in the victory, elated to be progressing to the round of 16. Jürgen is quick to come greet the players on his former team, especially the ones he had coached back in 2006.

“Schweini and Poldi! Still together as always, I see!” Jürgen says, beaming at them. Before either of them can respond, Jogi comes up behind them. “Hi Jogi, I was just commenting on how much these two haven’t changed at all! If we can’t have our fairy tale ending, at least these two have a chance at it!”

“Well, um, I’m going to, um, greet the Americans,” Lukas mumbles, immediately sensing where the conversation is about to go. His dilemma is definitely not something he wants to discuss with his former coach. Jürgen gives him a hug and a fond smile before letting him go.

“Yeah, uh, I’m also going to go do that,” Bastian says awkwardly, silently cursing Lukas for acting so strangely yet again. “It’s great to see you again, Jürgen.” He also gives his former coach a hug before wandering off.

“I’m guessing those two still haven’t figured things out. God, it’s been ten years and they’re still acting the same way.” Jürgen shakes his head.

“What,” Jogi says. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The USA coach opens his mouth to explain, but he’s interrupted by Miro, Philipp, and Per.

“Jürgen! Hi!” Per says excitedly.

“Hello, boys! Wow, Mertesacker, I see you’re still as tall as ever! And Lahm, the opposite!” Philipp usually doesn’t like his height to be mentioned, but Jürgen’s happiness is so infectious that he can’t bring himself to be bothered. “And Miro, I can’t tell you how proud I am of you! Our very own legend!”

Jogi is still very confused and cuts into the greetings. “But Jürgen, what were you talking about with Lukas and Bastian?”

Jürgen looks at him in disbelief. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything. Anyone with eyes can see what’s going on between those two.”

Meanwhile, Per, Philipp, and Miro are beside themselves, talking over each other as they try to update their old coach. (Being around him makes them feel younger, and it’s almost as if they’ve reverted back to the 2006 versions of themselves.

“Jürgen, you won’t believe what they’re like,” Per says.

“It’s as bad as it was in 2006, except worse,” Philipp adds.

Miro nods in agreement. “And now Lukas is becoming self-aware and it’s like a bad love story.”

“Definitely worse than 2006.”

“They were tickling each other instead of playing rugby!”

“They volunteered to share a bed.”

“So many selfies.”

“And Thomas’ bets…”

“Everybody shut up!” Jogi interrupts. He looks even more bewildered than before, while Jürgen looks mildly amused. “What is going on?”

“Jogi, the time has come for someone to explain this to you and it’s probably best that you hear it from me.” Jürgen speaks calmly for the first time that day. “Basically, Bastian and Lukas have been in love with each other since 2004 and have never acted upon it, but apparently, from what I can tell, Lukas has finally started to realize what’s actually happening and it’s a good idea for you to be prepared for the inevitable.”

“That’s the super shortened version,” Philipp says. “I could write another book just on those two. Even the fans know about it.”

“Don’t they have a nickname for them?” Per thinks about it for a second. “Oh yeah, Schweinski is the name, I think.”

With his hair drenched and his life in a general state of ruin, Jogi can feel his existential crisis growing at an exponential rate. Philipp regains some of his seriousness, feeling extremely concerned for his coach now. “Are you okay, Jogi?”

Jogi takes a few deep breaths, like the ones he’s been practicing with his private yoga instructor. “Okay,” he says slowly, “Is there anything else you guys would like to tell me while we’re on the topic?”

“Benni and Mats finally figured themselves out,” Per says immediately. “Meaning they’re finally together.”

“Marco and Mario have been together forever, pretty much,” Philipp says.

“I think Erik and Matthias have something going on, but who knows, the boy is too shy to tell me,” Miro adds.

“Great,” Jogi says dryly. “The team is practically a reality TV show. The next thing you’re going to tell me is that Thomas and Manuel are a couple too.”

“Oh no, no, they’re just soul brothers,” Philipp says, looking slightly disturbed at Jogi’s suggestion. Despite not really knowing Thomas or Manuel very well, Jürgen has a massive grin on his face upon hearing this.

Jogi groans, “Soul brothers? What is that, a band?”

“Yeah, we don’t really know either,” Miro says with a shrug. “But it makes them happy, so we’re happy too.”

****

André swings his legs off the side of the bed, deciding that he’s reached the level of boredom that can only be cured by human company. Montana stopped answering his texts thirty minutes ago and he can only assume that she’s either in the shower or hanging out with Ann-Kathrin. He knocks on Mario’s door and is immediately answered by a cheerful “Come in!”

“Hey, please tell me you’re not talking to Marco again. I seriously need someone to not be boring for the next two hours.” Unfortunately, the first thing he sees is Mario’s laptop sitting on the bed with Marco’s face beaming at him from it.

“Hey, André!” Marco calls from the screen.

“Of course you’re talking to him. Why am I not shocked at all?” André rolls his eyes but a small smile is already growing on his face. (Hey, Marco is his friend too.) Mario moves over to make space on the bed for André to join. “So, what’s going on?”

“Mario’s been updating me on the relationship drama,” Marco says with a grin. “I swear, you guys are like a bad romantic comedy. It almost makes me glad I don’t have to deal with it. At least Mats and Benni finally got their acts together. Do you even know how long Mats has been bothering me with things like ‘I wish Benni were here’ and ‘man, I miss Benni’ and ‘have you heard the latest news about Benni?' I hope at least now he’ll be able to shut up about it.”

André rolls his eyes. “You’re a bit too optimistic. It’s only going to get worse and you know it.”

“Speaking of getting worse, did you happen to make a bet with Thomas about Lukas and Bastian?” Marco asks.

André silently wonders how that relates to the previous conversation in any way, but ultimately doesn’t question it. “Fuck no. Who the hell is stupid enough to do that?” he says. Mario coughs awkwardly next to him and André slaps him on the arm. “Don’t tell me you did. What on earth would you do that for?”

“Hey, I’m not the only one!” Mario says defensively.

“Oh yeah? Who else would subject themselves to that, huh?” André asks skeptically.

“Fips, Toni, Boa, Miro, Per, Benni, and Mats,” Mario rattles off. André’s eyes widen comically as the list grows.

“Hold up, hold up,” Marco says, cutting Mario off. “I’m going to get a piece of paper and a pen and we’re going to make a list. I want to see how broke Thomas is going to be by the end of this. That’ll teach him to not leave me out next time.” He disappears from the camera and returns with what looks like a used coffee filter and a pen he definitely stole from his agent.

“Marco,” André says calmly. “You are a professional footballer. Are you seriously telling me that you can’t afford better quality paper than - than whatever that is?”

“Shut up, I don’t actively buy stationery. There are better things to spend my money on,” Marco says, like André is the one being unreasonable.

“André, just leave him alone and let him write,” Mario says impatiently.

“Thanks, Sunny.” Marco beams at Mario as André pretends to gag.

“Okay, let me think,” Mario says. “There’s the bet with Jerome and Toni first.”

“How much? And for what?” Marco asks as he scribbles down the two names.

“I think Toni mentioned it being something like 50 Euros each,” Mario says. “For them not getting together without Thomas interfering.”

“Thomas is definitely going to lose that one,” André says confidently. “So you can put down somewhere that it’s going to be minus 100.”

They continue like this until everything is written down, and both Marco and André are a little unsure as to why Mario has such an extensive knowledge of every bet that any given member of the national team has made.

“Are you guys sure this is right?” Marco asks worriedly. “It looks like Fips won’t be winning enough to lose that much from.”

“What are you talking about?” André sighs.

“Look, he’s most likely going to lose to Thomas and obviously to Miro so that’s minus 550, and he’ll only win 100 from Per since he’ll probably win that, so that’s not going to work,” Marco explains. “You can’t take 550 from 100, that makes no sense.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Mario agrees.

André looks confused. “What do you mean it’s not going to work? It works out just fine, it’s just going to be a negative number in the end.” There’s silence from both Marco and Mario. Then, it dawns on André. “Oh my god. Did you guys not learn about negative numbers in school? HOW THE HELL DO YOU GUYS READ THE BUNDESLIGA TABLE?”

“The table only adds points,” Mario says with a pout. “What’s the point of negative numbers anyway, they’re basically just imaginary.”

“Oh no. There is a thing called imaginary numbers and let me tell you, it’s way more complicated than negative numbers. And for god’s sake, the goal differentials have negative numbers. Maybe not with Bayern, and I guess not with Dortmund either, really. But please tell me you guys are joking.” The blank stares he gets from his two friends tell him everything he needs to know. “I’m surrounded by idiots. I wonder if this is how Jogi feels all the time.”

“Here, let me just show you the list,” Marco says. “You’re clearly better at this than we are.”

“Damn it, Marco. Next time, try writing so that people can actually read it. Maybe buying proper paper will help,” André complains. “And was it really necessary to add hearts after Mario’s name?”

“Aw, you’re so sweet. I love you too,” Mario says with a wide smile. André sighs and buries his face in his hands, mumbling something that sounds a lot like “save me.”

“André, are you still with us? We still need you to do math,” Marco says, sounding unreasonably impatient.

“Oh my god, why?” André groans. “Fine, get me a piece of paper. And I mean an actual piece of paper. I am definitely not writing on toilet paper.”

Mario manages to find a small notepad in the nightstand drawer along with a pen and hands it to André. André spends about 10 minutes furiously writing down numbers and mathematical operations before triumphantly setting down the pen and proudly brandishing the paper at Mario and Marco.

“But how can we be sure that these are the bets that everyone will win and lose?” Mario asks curiously.

“Well, it’s a pretty simple case of probability. Obviously, nothing is definite, but based on the state Lukas and Basti are in right now, there’s no way they’re getting together before the World Cup ends, so all those are pretty much guaranteed losses,” André patiently explains. “And we all know Miro is never wrong, so whatever bets are made with him are automatic losses. That includes me, but that’s all I’m willing to lose this summer.”

“Why is Miro only winning against 20 people? There are 23 players, remember? You’re supposed to be good at math!” Marco reminds him.

“He’s not betting against himself, stupid. And obviously, Lukas and Bastian aren’t going to be betting about themselves,” André says slowly.

“Hey, why did you put me down as losing money to Thomas?” Mario protests.

“Because I don’t think it’s going to take longer than two months for them to get together, so that makes Thomas the winner of that one,” André says, smirking.

“Do you think Thomas is even keeping track of all this?” Marco asks his first intelligent question of the night.

“I seriously doubt it. If anything, Manu is keeping track for him,” Mario says. “Wait, hang on. Look at how Boa and Toni are losing as much as they win. What if someone were to make a bet with Thomas that he’ll definitely lose, and he ends up not gaining any money at all? Like, he can win a thousand, which you predicted he will, but then he’ll lose a thousand right away.”

“That’s...actually kind of clever,” André says slowly. “Yeah, that would be really funny.”

“But who would agree to that?” Mario asks. They sit in silence for a few minutes, thinking.

“Guys, I know the perfect person,” Marco says suddenly. “Oh my god, it’s gonna be great.”

“Who is it, who is it?” Mario asks excitedly.

Marco grins. “Kevin!”

André takes a moment to think about it. “That would actually make a lot of sense. Kevin has been hanging out with Basti a lot lately and Thomas definitely knows that. As long as we can come up with a winnable bet, this could actually be the perfect plan.”

****

June 27, 2014-Campo Bahia

“It’s official. Basti and Lukas are missing again,” Thomas announces as he sits down with a heap of pasta on his plate. “They are nowhere to be found.”

“What are you, their official stalker?” Kevin sits down across from Thomas, receiving approving nods from Mario and André. “But anyway, speaking of the dynamic duo, I’ve heard that you’re betting on their relationship status.”

“You heard right,” Thomas says. “Why, are you interested in betting?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Kevin says. “I bet 450 Euros that Lukas will be the first one to bring up their relationship, but Bastian will be the first to act on it.”

“Wow, that’s really specific. Why do people think I’m the crazy obsessed one? And also it’s definitely not going to happen,” Thomas says. “Lukas is obviously going to be the one to initiate things, Basti is so clueless. So yeah, you’re on!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Kevin warns with a smile. “I guess we’ll just have to see!”

“Well, you’re wrong. Want to know why?” Thomas reaches over and grabs his phone from Manuel’s pocket. “Lukas posted this today. Lukas, not Basti.”

Kevin’s confidence doesn’t waver. “Trust me, I know Basti and I know Lukas. It’s gonna happen the way I said it will.” With that, he flashes one final grin at Thomas before getting up to go sit at the other end of the table.

“I know Basti better than him,” Thomas grumbles to Manuel. “We’re at Bayern together and everything.”

Manuel just shrugs because he hadn’t really paid attention to the prior conversation. “Whatever you say, Mülli.”

Christoph sits down next to Manuel just as Kevin gets up to leave. Something drops out of his pocket as he sits and Manuel reaches down to pick it up. “Hey, what’s this?”

“Um, nothing,” Christoph says quickly, blushing.

“Hey, Manu, why do you have Christoph’s diary?” Matthias asks cheerfully. Christoph turns even redder and glares at him.

“You have a diary?” Shkodran asks curiously. “That’s cool. I think.”

At this point, everyone’s attention is focused on poor Christoph, who looks like he wants the earth to swallow him where he stands. “Can I have that back, please?” he asks softly. Sensing Christoph’s obvious discomfort, Manuel hands the diary back to its owner with an encouraging smile. “Thanks, Manu,” Christoph squeaks, too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eyes. He stuffs the small book back into his pocket.

“Relax, kid,” Thomas says in a surprisingly kind voice. “You look like you’re about to die.”

“He’s not really ‘kid’ to you,” Philipp points out. “He’s not even two years younger than you.”

“It’s just an expression, Fips, I’m trying to be motivational here,” Thomas says, letting out an impatient huff. “The point is, Christoph, no one’s judging you. Let’s face it, there’s not a single person here who hasn’t done something more questionable than keep a diary.” Everyone nods in agreement, smiling kindly at Christoph, who looks a little relieved. “Just look at Manu. He quacked at Jogi. Honestly, what can you have in there that’s more embarrassing than that?”

“Well, Julian called Jogi, ‘Mr. Jogi.’ I think that’s pretty high up there too,” Manuel says defensively.

“Hey, leave him alone,” Benni warns. Mats smiles fondly as he watches Benni go into his overprotective-mother mode. Everyone rolls their eyes and turns back to their own conversations when they see the way Lukas is looking at Mats and Benni, jealousy clearly visible all over his face. Christoph relaxes as the dining hall returns back to its noisy state and the attention is no longer on him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Manuel asks.

Christoph thinks about all the ways this could have been so much worse and he feels a swell of gratefulness toward Manuel and Thomas. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for not making fun of me or anything.”

“It’s the soul brother code to protect and defend those in need,” Thomas states solemnly, “with, of course, a few exceptions.”

“That mostly means like, Jogi,” Manuel clarifies. “And sometimes Fips, but he gets upset so usually we include him too.”

Christoph stays next to Manuel and Thomas for the rest of the night, refusing to leave their side until Hansi orders them back to their respective houses. When the door is locked at the blinds are closed, Christoph pulls his diary out from his pocket and finds his favorite pen.

Chapter Text

June 29, 2014 - Campo Bahia

“Mülli?” Manuel pokes his head into the room. Thomas is on the phone and holds up a finger, signaling for Manuel to wait.

“Okay, Ducky is calling for me. I’ll talk to you later. Of course I’m behaving, Lisa, relax, you sound like my mother. What kind of fool do you take me for, anyway? Actually, never mind, don’t answer that. Okay. I love you. Bye.” Thomas throws his cellphone to Manuel, who catches it and puts it safely back into his pocket. “What’s up, bruh?”

Manuel rolls his eyes. “You did not just say ‘bruh.’ Which idiot taught you that?”

“I heard Erik say it to Matze,” Thomas says with a grin. “I like it.”

“Yeah, okay.” Manuel learned a long time ago not to ask too many questions about Thomas’ odd quirks. “I need your help with something.”

“Okay, what is it? If it’s difficult, like running or something, you’re on your own,” Thomas warns.

“That doesn’t even make sense, why would I need your help with running? I can run perfectly well on my own, thanks,” Manuel says. “Whatever. That’s not what it is, anyway. I want to make a three-course meal for the team.”

Thomas stares blankly at his friend. “What,” he says after a long period of awkward silence. “What would possess you to do something like that? Are you even good at cooking?”

“I’m sick of rabbit food. I want something with four sticks of butter and a shit-ton of salt. Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same way. Since Jogi would never allow the cooks to make something like that, I might as well do it. And for your information, I’m a damn good cook. My Italian food is to die for,” Manuel says.

“What do you need me for?” Thomas asks. Judging from his widening smile, he’s starting to get excited at the prospect of cooking.

A little too excited, Manuel thinks. He quickly does some damage control. “Well, you’re not actually going to be cooking. I want to cook a meal, not explode the camp. I just need you to make sure nobody comes near the kitchens until I’m done.”

Thomas doesn’t look even a little disappointed. “No problem at all, I can do that! But you better let me be a taste-tester. Or else I refuse.”

“Obviously you get to be a taste-tester, Mülli,” Manuel says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “That was kind of the point of me asking you instead of someone more responsible. I know you’ll be honest about how it tastes because soul brothers never lie. But anyway, I’m planning on doing this tomorrow after the game, as soon as we get back to Campo Bahia. Just make sure no one notices me going to the kitchens.”

“This is going to be so much fun!” Thomas says enthusiastically

“Just don’t do anything too stupid,” Manuel warns.

Thomas grins. “When do I ever do that?”

****

“Basti!” Bastian turns around at the sound of his name being called. “Turn the other way, idiot, I’m on this side of you.”

“Damn it, Lukas,” Bastian says. Despite the events of that morning, he can’t keep himself from smiling at the sight of his friend.

“Smile for the camera. I’m going to try to record as much as I can. Maybe I’ll have someone help me make a small movie later.” Lukas points the camera lens at Bastian.

“What, like 2006? Maybe we should film you breaking into my room this time,” Bastian says jokingly.

“Don’t be stupid, we’re sharing a room at the hotel. You’d just be breaking into your own room,” Lukas says with a laugh.

“We are?” This is news to Bastian, because he’s been more than a little unsure about it due to Lukas’ strange mood recently.

“Obviously, who else am I going to share with?” Lukas lowers his camera and looks at Bastian, confused. “I mean, unless you were already planning on being with someone else, I don’t want to force you or anything.”

Bastian shrugs. “No, I was planning on rooming with you, it’s just, I don’t know. You sat with Per this morning and you guys were talking the entire time, so I figured…”

Oh no, Lukas winces. He had only sat with Per because the defender had wanted to talk to him about the “Schweinsteiger Situation” and honestly, Lukas was grateful to have someone other than Mario to talk to about his problem.

“No!” Lukas says a bit hurriedly. “No, of course I want to room with you. And Per and Ron-Robert already made some, like, Hannover 96 pact before the World Cup started so I couldn’t room with him anyway.”

“So you did want to room with him?” Bastian asks. The question comes out sharper than he intended, and he immediately wonders why he’s reacting like this. It’s not like Lukas is obligated to room with him all the time, and for all he knows, Lukas might be tired of it (him) anyway.

But Lukas’ face reflects similar confusion as he says, “Basti, you know I’d only ever want to room with you. We’ve been rooming together for the past ten years, what could possibly change now?”

He seems genuinely hurt that Bastian would even suggest that Lukas could just cast off their friendship like that, and Bastian curses himself for bringing it up in the first place. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it,” he says sheepishly. “Forgive me?”

Lukas rolls his eyes, but a fond smile is already growing on his face. “Of course, Basti. Always.”

****

To: Greek God <33

where r u???

dinner is about 2 end

and we're leaving 4 the hotel soon

To: Kapitän Blau <33

not feeling too gr8 :(

must be from playin in the rain

might be the flu i think

To: Greek God <33

poor bby do u need me 2 come there?

i can bring u smth 2 eat

To: Kapitän Blau <33

noo i dont want u 2 get sick too <3

just pls tell jogi i wont be able 2 play 2morrow

and i prbly wont even be able 2 come 2 the hotel

To: Greek God <33

ok D:

im coming 2 see u later anyway tho

i have the key so dont bother trying 2 stop me <3

Julian looks over Benni’s shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of his phone’s screen. “So where’s Mats? Or should I call him ‘Greek God?’”

“Shut up, Jule,” Benni snaps without thinking. Julian looks hurt at the sharp tone and Benni winces. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just he’s sick and he says he won’t be able to play, so it must be pretty bad.”

“Oh no, that doesn’t sound good,” Julian says, immediately understanding why Benni looks so stricken and worried. “Are you gonna tell Jogi?” He pointedly ignores Erik’s whispered, “Mr. Jogi, you mean?” and Matze’s snickering.

“Yeah, I will right now,” Benni says. “Don’t wait up for me, I’m going to Mats’ room right after.” He places a slice of Mats’ favorite banana bread in a napkin and gets up to talk to Jogi.

“Just make sure you don’t get sick too!” Julian calls after Benni with a smirk.

****

There’s a soft knock on the door and Mats rolls over, groaning as a fresh wave of pain hits him. “Don’t come in,” he mumbles, even as he hears the door open.

“Too late,” Benni says gently. Mats feels the bed dip as Benni sits down and strokes his hair soothingly. “I brought you some food, do you feel like eating anything?”

“I think I might puke if I do,” Mats says. “And Benni, as much as I lo-” he stops himself, not sure if it’s too early for a declaration of love. “I mean, as nice as this is, I told you not to come. What if you get sick now, too?”

“Mats, if you honestly think I was about to just leave my boyfriend here to suffer by himself then you don’t know me at all,” Benni sighs. (A thrill goes through both of them when he refers to Mats as his boyfriend.) “But if you’re really concerned, I’ll take some vitamin C later, okay?”

“I’m still not okay with this, but I honestly don’t have the energy to argue with you right now,” Mats says, sniffling. “My head hurts, Benni.”

“I know, I know,” Benni says softly as he continues to stroke Mats’ hair. “I can get you some Advil or something. All the rooms have some just in case.”

“Please,” Mats says, before collapsing into a coughing fit. Benni immediately goes to retrieve the medicine. “Who do you think Jogi’s gonna play in my place?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, you just need to get plenty of rest tonight and tomorrow,” Benni says.

“But I want to watch you play,” Mats pouts.

“And I want you to sleep,” Benni says sternly, handing Mats the Advil and a glass of water. “How about this? You sleep for as long as you can now, and when I get back from the match tomorrow, I’ll watch the replay with you.”

“Okay,” Mats agrees after taking the medicine, his eyelids already starting to droop. “You’re the best, Benni.”

Benni leans over and kisses him lightly on the forehead. “I know.”

He stays with Mats until he hears soft snoring and assumes he’s asleep. Benni gently pushes Mats’ curls off his forehead, fixes the blankets, and kisses him one last time. He’s about to step out the door, but stops and turns back. “I love you,” he whispers quietly.

Mats stirs and rolls over in time to hear the door click shut. “I love you too.”

****

June 30, 2014 - Match vs Algeria; Estadio Beira-Rio, Porto Alegre

“Guys, I’m really excited,” Shkodran says, unable to keep himself still for even a second. He’s bouncing in a way that makes even Thomas seem slightly more mature. “I’m a starter in a World Cup match. Is this even real life?”

“It’s great that you’re pumped for this match but you’re gonna have to be a little calmer,” Per says kindly to the younger defender, smiling at how enthusiastic he is. “Come on, relax, Jogi’s about to start his speech.”

But before Jogi can even stand on his bench, Thomas gets up and walks to the center of the locker room. Everyone stares at him, their expressions ranging from exasperated (Philipp and Jogi) to confused (Christoph) to amused (Manuel). “Bad news, everyone,” he announces. “I think I have a cold.” He proceeds to hack out a few (extremely fake) coughs.

Philipp clears his throat and attempts to help Thomas not make a fool of himself. “Yes, thank you Thomas. I’m sure that’s a really difficult thing for you to cope with. Now, if that’s all…”

“You wound me, Fips,” Thomas says, dramatically clutching his heart.

“Just sit down, Thomas,” Miro says firmly. Thomas sticks out his tongue at the striker but does as he’s told.

“What was the point of that?” Manuel whispers to Thomas as Jogi takes a few calming breaths, apparently preparing himself for his newest speech.

“It’s all part of the plan to keep everyone out of the kitchens. And also, I actually think I do have a cold, so there’s that too,” Thomas whispers back.

“Guys, pay attention!” Christoph says, looking at the two of them worriedly. Much to Philipp’s surprise, Thomas and Manuel actually listen to Christoph and focus their attention on their coach.

“Well, here we are in the round of 16. If any of you are thinking that this will be hunky-dory, which none of you should be thinking because that’s dumb, but anyway, if you are thinking that, you’re wrong!” Jogi says rather emphatically. “News flash everyone: Algeria is not an easy team to beat! In fact, their goalfest against South Korea the other day was almost impressive as my hair, on a good day, obviously. Not like how it was against the USA. That was a very bad day…”

“Also, they’re very likely to still be bitter about the whole fiasco in ‘82, so they have some extra motivation there,” Hansi interrupts, shifting the focus back to the actual task on hand. “It’s your job to go out there and prove that you are even more motivated than they are. Now get your asses into the tunnel and get ready to win this match. Hell, forget about this match, I want you all to play to win this goddamn tournament.”

As the two teams file out of the tunnels, it seems that Manuel takes the wrong part of Hansi’s words to heart and temporarily forgets about the match, doing nothing but attempting to talk to the poor kid who’s stuck with him. (He even ignores Thomas, who luckily doesn’t seem affected by his friend not listening to a single word he’s saying.) He ends up walking on to the field ten meters behind Philipp and everyone rolls their eyes at this fantastic start to the game.

The anthems finish playing and Shkodran jumps in place a few times, trying to get rid of the nervous feeling building in his stomach. Bastian seems to sense his discomfort because he gives him a quick hug before getting into position. Much to Shkodran’s relief, his nerves settle quickly enough as the game starts up and he starts to get into a good rhythm.

Unfortunately, the rest of the team seems to suddenly forget everything they’ve done in training, because for the first 15 minutes, they don’t do much of anything besides force Manuel to run out of his box and cause everyone to have a mini-heart attack as he tries out his “sweeper-keeper” abilities. Just a few minutes later, Algeria puts the ball in the German net, and by some stroke of luck, the linesman calls the scorer offside. By the time half-time rolls around, no one on the German team has anything good to say about their performance. They all seem to be aware of how badly they had played, because there’s not even a single whisper coming from any of them in the locker room.

“So,” Jogi says, and it’s deathly silent as he glares around the room. “It is going to be better in the next forty-five minutes. If not, well, that’s not an option. Understood?” The players nod their heads vigorously. “I don’t care if the pitch is slightly slippery. I expect to see improvement in your passing. I expect to see more effective runs. I expect goals. I expect Manuel to not have to come out and be a defender. But I don’t think that one is going to happen. Whatever. Just be better, is that clear?” Once again, they’re all quick to agree with their manager, ashamed of how disappointed they’ve made him (because yes, they give him a hard time, but at the end of the day, he’s still their coach and they respect that).

Mario is pulled from the field in favor of André, who has an immediate impact and nearly scores soon after the start of the second half. Their attacking is definitely better, but the back four are still shaky. Things only get worse when Shkodran ends up on the ground, his face contorted with pain.

“Hey, you’re going to be fine, okay? Can you try standing up?” Thomas offers a hand as the medical staff runs onto the field. Shkodran is grateful for the assistance, but is definitely unable to continue, so Sami comes on to replace him.

In the final fifteen minutes, Germany suddenly comes to life with several consecutive attempts on goal, but all of them are off target. Then, they’re handed yet another opportunity when they’re awarded a free kick at a reasonable distance from the goal.

“Okay, we’ve practiced this play many, many times, guys,” Bastian says quietly to Mesut, André, Toni, and Thomas, who are all huddled around the ball. “You know the one. The one where Thomas gets to be himself. Mülli, this is your time to shine, make sure you do this flawlessly, got it?”

“Don’t worry Basti, we’ve got this,” Thomas says with a confident smile. “It’ll be 1-0 in no time. They won’t even know what’s happening. It’ll be great!”

Bastian lines up the kick and mentally prepares himself for the public’s reaction to the audacious play they’re about to attempt. Then, as planned, he runs past the ball and loops around as Thomas prepares himself. And in what appears to be his typical fashion, Thomas runs towards the ball, stumbles, and falls. As Thomas scrambles back to his feet and runs ahead in anticipation of the pass from Toni, Bastian can’t help but think that Thomas had in fact executed his part perfectly; there probably wasn’t a single person in the world who didn’t believe that Thomas had messed up. Unfortunately, there is no way to prove them wrong, because Toni ends up kicking it right into the wall and the play comes to nothing. The remaining few minutes are once again dominated by Germany, but they can’t piece together a winner, and the whistle blows to indicate the end of regulation time.

Jogi gathers the players for a quick pre-extra-time talk. “This should never have gone to extra time. Show me that you deserve to be here and score.”

They clearly take his words to heart, because barely two minutes in, Thomas makes a pass through two defenders’ legs and André is there to cheekily backheel the ball into the net. The team doesn’t celebrate so much as it heaves a sigh of relief, but that doesn’t stop Miro from leaping into Manuel’s arms joyfully (because for some reason, Manuel has run over to the sideline where he’s warming up). Two minutes pass and Germany finds themselves with yet another chance, but once again, Thomas proves his inability to remain in his own two feet and falls instead of putting the ball away.

At the extra time half-time, Miro brings out bottles of water for the exhausted team. “Thanks, Opa,” Thomas says as he greedily gulps down water.

“You’re welcome, of course, but do me a favor, kiddo, and pull up your socks,” Miro says with a soft smile. “Honestly, how are you playing with your socks at your ankles? Your shins aren’t protected if they’re not covered, you know. You need to take care of yourself.”

Thomas waves off Miro’s concern, but tugs one of his socks a little higher anyways before returning to his position. Germany is still clearly not at its best, but they manage to piece together a few decent-looking moves that don’t result in anything. Everyone is both shocked and amused when Philipp gets a yellow card after basically yanking an Algerian player’s shorts down. (“I didn’t know you were like that, Fips,” Thomas will tease him later, much to his embarrassment.) Moments later, a nervous-looking Christoph is substituted on for Bastian, who has looked a little shaky for some time (and as Bastian sits down, Lukas immediately begins asking if he feels okay and if he’s seriously hurt in any way).

The match finally ends with quite a spectacular goal from Mesut followed by a consolation goal for the Algerians just a minute later. Manuel isn’t happy about that last goal, but he manages to smile when Thomas’s loud cheering is interrupted by Miro’s insistence that he wear Miro’s jacket because of his slight cold.

“Opa, I’m sweating, I don’t need your jacket,” Thomas complains.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Miro warns. “You’re wearing this jacket, Thomas. We don’t need another situation like the one where your head started bleeding again. And also don’t need another player with the flu.” He throws an apologetic glance at Benni. “So please, just wear the jacket.”

****

June 30, 2014 - Campo Bahia

Mats jumps upon hearing a light knock at the door. His entire pillow is soaked with sweat and he knows he probably looks as shitty as he feels. The throbbing headache he has isn’t helping, either.

The lock clicks and Benni steps into the room, frowning when he sees the state Mats is in. “You’re back,” Mats manages to croak. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, silly,” Benni says fondly. His face fills with concern when Mats starts coughing. “Mats, did you get any sleep?”

“I tried taking a few naps, but my head hurt too much for me to actually sleep well,” Mats says.

“You poor thing,” Benni says sympathetically, sitting down next to Mats on the bed. “Why don’t you get changed and I’ll help you down to dinner. It’s delayed for some reason. They said something about needing to disinfect the kitchen and missing cleaning supplies, but Thomas was lingering about so I have my suspicions.”

“Thanks Benni, but I don’t think I’m gonna be able to eat anything,” Mats says with a groan.

“But you need some nutrition. Maybe soup or something. I’ll go down to the kitchens and ask the cook to make you a nice broth,” Benni fusses.

“You’re so sweet.” Mats smiles, looking at Benni dreamily. “But really, I just want to be able to sleep.”

Benni blushes slightly under Mats’ gaze. “I’ll get you some Advil and let you sleep for a little while. Then I’ll get you that soup, okay?”

“You’re an angel, I swear,” Mats mumbles. “How do I deserve you?”

“I think you’re too sick to know what you’re saying,” Benni says quickly, even as a pleased smile spreads across his face. “Just hold on, okay? I'll be back soon, and we can watch the match together like I promised.” He doesn’t wait for Mats to fall asleep after giving him the medicine this time. Instead, he drops a quick kiss on Mats’ nose before rushing into Julian’s room with a “Help Mats Get Well Soon” plan that he’s already started formulating in his head.

“We’re going to do some grocery shopping, Jule,” he tells a half-dressed Julian. “Come on, put on a shirt. I’m going to grab my wallet and I want you waiting for me by the gates in 10 minutes.”

“But me, Erik, and Matze were gonna play FIFA,” Julian complains. “Do I have to go? And what about dinner? I’m hungry too.”

Benni sighs impatiently. “I’ll make you dinner if we miss it. How about mac and cheese? You love that childish stuff.”

“Ugh, fine,” Julian agrees, still pouting. “And for your information, mac and cheese is legitimate cuisine.”

“What a nerd, using words like ‘legitimate cuisine,’” Benni teases, ruffling Julian’s hair. “Now come on, hurry!”

****

“Lukas?” Bastian knocks on the door, listening for any sign of movement in the room. “Lukas, are you in there?”

There are some sounds inside the room, and then the door opens to reveal not Lukas, but Per grinning down at him. Bastian feels a surge of annoyance and then a second later, wonders why, because after all, Per has always been a close friend to both him and Lukas.

“Hey, Per. Is Lukas there? We’re going down to dinner together since there’s a delay and all.”

Per’s grin seems to widen. “Sure, I’ll just get him.” He turns around and shouts Lukas’ name before turning back to face Bastian. “I heard dinner isn’t for another hour. I swear to god, Thomas is behind it. Is it really going to take you two an hour to get to the dining hall?”

Bastian feels at a loss for words for a few moments. “Well, I mean, we’re probably not gonna go directly to the dining hall right away. There could be other places to go on the way, probably…” Lukas appears behind Per, saving Bastian from coming up with an elaborate excuse.

“Hi Basti,” Lukas says, beaming at him. “You got my text?”

“That’s why I’m here, you idiot,” Bastian says without any real heat. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“You’ll see.” Lukas shoulders a bag and winks. “Okay, you can go now, Per, we’ll be leaving in a second. Bye!”

“Alright, alright, bye, you two. Have fun! Be safe!” Per looks far too pleased as he waves at them.

“Oi, get out of here, you humongous dork!” Lukas gives him a playful shove out the door. Per sticks his tongue out and grins at Lukas before wandering back to his own room.

“What was he doing in your room, anyway?” Bastian asks once Per has left.

“Oh, nothing, we were just talking,” Lukas shrugs like it’s no big deal, which it is. Bastian wonders once again why this is bothering him so much.

“Can’t he talk to you on the phone like I do?” Bastian asks, trying to appear causal.

Lukas raises his eyebrows. “What the hell, man? Per’s our friend. And we were just hanging out.”

Why can't you just hang out with me? Bastian thinks, and then quickly removes the thought from his mind. “I know, I know. I just, I don’t know-just forget it,” he says instead. Lukas looks at him strangely for a few more seconds before shaking his head slightly. Bastian thinks he catches a glimpse of an almost wistful smile on Lukas’ face, but it’s gone before he can be sure. “So, actually, where are we going? The beach again?” Bastian attempts to get an answer out of his friend, but Lukas flashes a smile in Bastian’s direction and grabs his hand, pulling him down the hallway. He doesn’t lets go of Bastian’s hand the whole way there, and Bastian can’t think of a single reason why he should.

****

“Are you sure nobody is going to come in?” Manuel asks yet again.

“Yes, Manu,” Thomas says impatiently. “Just like the first two hundred times you asked.”

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door and Manuel jumps. “Damn it, Mülli, what are you talking about? And don’t open the door!”

“I got this, don’t worry,” Thomas assures him. He opens the door a crack and peeks out. “Oh hey, Christoph!”

Manuel breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, okay. Let him in, he can help you. He’s probably more competent for this job anyway.”

Christoph looks positively thrilled, while Thomas pouts. “Of course I can help!” Christoph says eagerly. “Wow, it’s great that I found you guys here. I was looking for you before, but no one had seen you anywhere. But why are you in the kitchen?”

“I’m making dinner,” Manuel explains. “We’re going to have potato salad and pasta. For Jogi, I have a giant lemon cake baking, but it’s not the fat free kind that he likes. I put at least two sticks of butter in that thing. Not that I’m going to tell him or anything.”

Christoph is looking at Manuel like he’s some kind of god, and Thomas smiles a little at the sight before remembering the task at hand. He shakes his teammate out of his reverie and says, “Come on, bud, I gotta teach you my ways.”

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Manuel mutters as he retrieves seven different ingredients from several different places and combines them in a bowl.

“I can hear you, you know,” Thomas shoots back. Christoph listens to their banter, fascinated by the dynamic of their friendship. “Okay, Chris, so basically all we’re doing is keeping a lookout. No one can know we’re here. Especially Fips, because if he finds out, we’re basically dead!”

“If you do a good job, you can be an honorary taste tester,” Manuel adds kindly. “Normally, I’d only allow Mülli because he definitely won’t lie, but I’m sure you won’t either.”

“Thanks guys, I’ll do my best!” Christoph says enthusiastically.

****

“Can I get cookies? I like to have cookies after dinner.” Julian points excitedly at a large pack of chocolate chip cookies. Benni rolls his eyes, but doesn't stop Julian from placing them in the basket. “This is more fun than I thought it would be. Who knew that we could find a grocery store around here?”

“Well, the kitchen has to get their food from somewhere. I persuaded one of the chefs to tell me while you were changing,” Benni says. Julian doesn’t seem to be listening and is bouncing over to the next aisle where he finds a giant bag of chips. “Jule, I think you’re forgetting that we’re professional football players. Like, that’s our profession. And we’re supposed to be healthy,” Benni says as he eyes the basket, which is nearly filled to the brim with snacks and junk food that Julian insisted on picking up. There's a small pack of chicken and a single carrot stick sandwiched between the piles of unhealthy food. “We actually have to get the stuff for Mats’ soup, remember how he’s sick? And if you want your mac and cheese, let’s not get anything more after the cookies, okay?” Benni tries to sound as patient as possible.

“Ugh, fine, mom,” Julian says, rolling his eyes, but he returns the bag of chips to the shelf. “And by the way, your concern for Mats is cute, but also a little sickening. You are so far gone for him.”

“Why am I the mom?” Benni half asks himself, choosing to ignore Julian’s latter statement. “Seriously, I’m older than Mats, why isn’t he the mom?”

Julian gives him a disbelieving look. “Think about it for like, two seconds, Benni. You’re the mom.”

Benni considers it as he picks up a handful of herbs and a carton of chicken stock before sighing and agreeing with Julian. “Damn it. I am the mom.”

Julian giggles. “It’s okay, Benni. At least you do a good job of it.”

“Wow, thank you, I’m truly honored,” Benni says sarcastically, but he’s smiling. “Do you think we should get some extra mac and cheese? Erik and Matze might want some, right?” Julians nods enthusiastically, and Benni laughs softly before ruffling the boy’s hair and picking up a few more boxes. “Okay, I think we’re done here. We gotta get back as soon as possible.”

Julian smirks. “I know, there’s someone very important waiting for you.”

****

“So, I know I’ve been acting kinda weird lately,” Lukas begins a little guiltily. “This is sort of a ‘sorry I was being so weird’ present.” He gestures to the picnic around them. “And it’s also just - well, I know you really liked this beach when we came before, so…” He trails off, smiling a little nervously.

“It’s amazing, Luki,” Bastian says softly. “You didn’t have to do all this.” I already forgave you, he doesn't say, because how could I not?

Lukas waves it off. “I wanted to,” he says with a smile. “And I mean, it really is gorgeous here, I could just keep coming back.”

“You really just love Brazil, don’t you?” Bastian asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, I really do,” Lukas says easily. And I really just love you too, he thinks wistfully, but then he shakes the thought away.

Bastian sits down on the blanket Lukas has placed under a giant umbrella. Lukas joins him and pulls a few sandwiches out of one of the baskets. “Your favorite: roast beef with tomatoes, aioli, mozzarella, and spinach. And when you get bored with that, I made a bunch of desserts.”

“How did you even have time to put all this together?” Bastian asks, amazed at the variety.

“I don’t know, I had some free time and decided, why not? Per covered for me a lot, made sure no one bothered me,” Lukas says, grinning. Once again, Bastian feels a rush of irritation and has to bite his lip to keep himself from making any rash comments. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood, not when everything is back to normal between them.

They eat quietly, simply enjoying their surroundings and each other’s company. Bastian can’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed and at peace. “Can’t we just stay here forever?”

“I wish,” Lukas murmurs. He pauses for a moment before turning to face Bastian. “Can I ask you something in all seriousness?” Bastian raises an eyebrow in confusion but motions for Lukas to continue. “I want to retire here. After my time with football is over, I’m going to buy a nice place by the beach, but I don’t want to do it alone. Would you - I mean, well, obviously it’s asking a lot, and I know there’s still time, but would you want to -”

“Of course,” Bastian interrupts. “Of course I would.”

“Really?” Lukas can’t stop a giant grin from spreading across his face.

“Really,” Bastian says, a smile growing on his face as well. “I can’t imagine anything better.”

****

“Dinner is finally ready, can you believe it?” André informs his housemates. “It’s only a whole two hours late!”

“Yo, chill, André. I did ask you if you wanted pretzels, but what did you say? ‘Only you could think of eating pretzels at a time like this, Mario, what would Marco say?’” Mario says, mimicking André's voice in an incredibly inaccurate way.

“I don’t sound like that,” André grumbles.

“Yeah, you do. But I’m not going to stand around and argue with you. I want dinner,” Mario says.

“Don’t we all,” André mutters under his breath. Then, to everyone else, he says, “Come on, we can all just go to the dining hall together.”

They parade towards the hall with Miro, Toni, and Roman leading the way and Shkodran, Mario, and André lagging behind.

Thomas is waiting for them at the entrance. “Welcome to the dining hall. May I have the honor of seating you?”

“Damn it, Thomas. What is going on?” Miro demands.

“A gracious host always seats the guests,” Thomas offers as an explanation. They all stare at him in exasperation. “Well, technically I’m not the host. He’s still putting some final touches on dinner, but I’m his assistant, so that’s close enough.”

Meanwhile, Philipp and Erik have also arrived. “Okay, Thomas, out with it. What have you been doing for the past two hours, and why did you drag poor Christoph into it?” Philipp asks, trying to stay calm.

Before Thomas can answer, Christoph walks out of the kitchen doors with a suspicious red stain down the front of his shirt. Philipp narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“All right, what is the meaning of all this commotion?” Hansi says, emerging from the mass of players gathered outside the hall. Jogi is right behind him and looks completely bewildered. “Why have the chefs been searching for disinfectant for the past two hours?”

“Thomas,” the entire team choruses together in response.

Hansi sighs like he was expecting that answer. “Okay, well how about we all go inside first, and then we can try and solve any additional problems we may be having?”

The team piles into the dining hall as Thomas and Christoph return to the kitchens, guarding the door from prying eyes. “Thanks for all your help guys,” Manuel says gratefully. “The meal is ready to go!”

The three soul brothers (the two originals and the newly instated one) grab trays and balance giant bowls of pasta and potato salad on them before bringing everything into the dining hall where the team is impatiently waiting.

When they walk in, any conversations that had been taking place before immediately die out. Everyone is staring, speechless, at Thomas, Manuel, and Christoph, waiting for any kind of explanation at all, which, of course, they do not provide. Instead, they leave the team in a state of dazed confusion and serve the dishes without a single word. It isn’t until they are finished serving that Manuel stands up on a chair to explain the situation.

“What you have in front of you today is a meal prepared by yours truly. Why? Because I am a nice person and I felt like cooking. So you’re welcome.” This is apparently the conclusion of his speech because he promptly steps off the chair and sits down between Thomas and Christoph. Everyone looks at each other following this abrupt and inadequate explanation, and upon realizing that they’re never truly going to understand what has happened here, they break out into conversation once again.

“I’ve never been so confused in my life,” Ron-Robert says. “But this food is actually really good.” Per, Toni, and Jerome all nod in agreement.

Thomas, even though he is sitting quite a distance away, manages to hear this assessment. “Thanks,” he says.

“You didn’t make the food,” Mesut says slowly. “Please tell me Manu didn’t let you help with the cooking. That is not a good idea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can’t cook. I tasted it, though, so that’s like the same thing,” Thomas says. As Mesut heaves a sigh of relief, Thomas looks around. “Hey, why are so many people missing? There are like, four empty seats.”

“Benni said something about promising to watch the match with Mats, so that’s where he is, if anyone is surprised by that,” Julian says. “I’m not sure who else is missing though.”

Thomas takes a head count before a malicious grin starts to spread across his face. He nudges Manuel delightedly. “Manu, I am going to be so rich soon. It’s Lukas and Bastian. They’re both not here, which can only mean one thing. They’re somewhere else, together.”

****

July 1, 2014 - Campo Bahia

Benni wakes with a start. Where am I? is his first thought, followed almost immediately by What is this on my chest? The source of the weight turns out to be Mats, who stirs a little and wraps the arm draped loosely across Benni’s waist more tightly around him. Benni glances at the clock to find that it’s 3:00 in the morning, and for a moment, he feels content to just lie there and try to go back to sleep. Just as that thought crosses his mind, Mats starts coughing in his sleep and Benni suddenly feels wide awake. As carefully as he can manage, Benni reluctantly untangles himself from Mats’ arms and grabs his phone as he walks quietly out of the room.

To: Baby Jules :P

come 2 the kitchen im making food

To: Mother Benni :P

benni wtf its like 3am

y r u making food at this hour

To: Baby Jules :P

mats started coughing

To: Mother Benni :P

ur literally insane

im bringing matze

To: Baby Jules :P

dont let any1 know ur coming

be super quiet

To: Mother Benni :P

matze wants 2 know if u can wake erik up on ur way out

To: Baby Jules :P

ugh ok

the things i do 4 u kids

Benni turns around and heads back up the stairs. He can still see light coming from Erik’s room and shakes his head slightly before walking in. Erik is sprawled across his bed, fast asleep. Benni is about to leave when Erik rolls over and squints at the door.

“Who the hell is in my room at this hour?” Erik asks, groaning slightly.

“Why the hell are your lights still on at this hour?” Benni counters. “I thought you were awake.”

“I’m scared of the dark, okay? I like to keep my light on, it helps me feel safe when Matze isn’t here,” Erik says defensively. Benni holds back a laugh and instead tries to give the boy an understanding smile. Erik glances over at the clock and upon seeing the time, buries his face in his pillow. “Why are you here, anyway?” he asks, his voice muffled by his favorite BVB plushie.

“I’m making some food,” Benni says, to which Erik doesn’t react at all. “Oh, and Jule’s bringing Matze.”

“Fine, fine, I’m coming,” Erik says, and then adds quickly, “Only because I don’t want to leave Matze alone with you crazy people.” He gets up slowly and stretches.

“Mhmm.” Benni hums knowingly, ruffling Erik's hair before walking to the door.

****

Julian and Matthias are already waiting impatiently in the kitchen by the time Erik and Benni arrive. A box of cookies is ripped open and half-empty with crumbs scattered across the entire counter.

“You had time to eat half a box of cookies, but you couldn’t get the rest of the groceries from the fridge for me?” Benni half-jokes, half-scolds Julian.

“Matze ate most of it,” Julian says, attempting to shift the blame. “And you never told me to get the groceries, how was I supposed to know?”

Benni doesn’t fall for the lie, but he decides it’s too late (or is it too early?) to try arguing with the kid. “Yeah, okay Jule. You’re still helping me with the cooking.”

Julian pouts, but doesn’t complain. He spends the next half hour running back and forth between the fridge, the cupboards, and the counter, while Erik and Matze watch from their seats at the kitchen table and giggle.

“Mr. Jogi would be proud, Jule. Keep up the good work!” Matze says cheerfully.

Julian shoots the two of them a murderous look and Benni takes pity on him. “Hey, you two, knock it off or I’ll put you to work too,” he warns, which effectively quiets them.

Julian frowns. “How come they’re not working and I am? This isn’t fair.”

Benni sighs as he picks up a spoon in one hand and some chopped carrots in the other. “You get the biggest bowl of mac and cheese later and I’ll let you have all the cookies you want, okay?”

“We get mac and cheese? No one told me!” Erik says excitedly.

“But I still get more,” Julian says. “Right, Benni?”

“Yup, yeah, of course,” Benni says distractedly, ignoring the petty fight as his attention is now focused on the pot of chicken noodle soup in front of him. “Do you think this is good enough? Should I add more herbs? Is there enough salt?”

“You could make Mats a soggy piece of burnt toast and he would think it was God’s gift from the heavens,” Erik says. “I mean really, you should have heard how he used to talk about you every single day at training in Dortmund.”

Benni blushes slightly. “Did he really?”

“Please, you two are so revoltingly in love, it’s horrible for the rest of us,” Julian says. He turns to Erik. “You think Mats was bad? I had to listen to Benni’s crap every day at training and it would continue because he would text me about it all the damn time.”

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Benni cuts in. “How about you go get Mats?”

“Fine, I’ll get your loverboy,” Julian says with a grin, ducking out of the way of Benni’s light shove.

****

Bastian wakes up to the sound of someone crashing into a door.

“Ow, ow, why does this always happen to me?” Bastian hears a voice exclaim in irritation.

“What is going on,” Bastian mumbles to himself. He forces himself out of bed and shuffles into the hallway to find Julian on the floor, rubbing his big toe. “Jule? What are you doing out here?”

Julian looks around, confused. “Huh? Oh, hey Basti. Weird how we keep meeting in strange situations at odd hours of the night.”

Bastian laughs softly. “Yeah, I don’t think anything is ever gonna be weirder than the bush thing. But maybe you have a better explanation this time?”

“I was sleepwalking?” Julian offers.

“Well, it was worth a shot, I guess,” Bastian says with a wry smile. “Nice try kiddo, but that doesn’t explain why Benni’s door is open and,” Bastian peeks into the room to confirm his suspicions, “why Benni isn’t actually in his room.”

Julian quickly thinks of the most plausible explanation without giving too much away. “I just came to grab some cookies that Benni was hiding from me because I’m hungry. Benni is sleeping with Mats.” Julian feels a rush of pride; this is the best explanation he's ever come up with and it isn’t even a complete lie. He actually is sneaking into Benni’s room to grab cookies and Benni had been sleeping with Mats earlier. Bastian silently studies Julian face for a sign of dishonesty, but finally decides he really can’t be bothered.

“Alright. Just go back to sleep, okay? Jogi would kill you if he caught you running around like this.”

“Just one second.” Julian runs into Benni’s room and comes back hugging a box of cookies to his chest. “Good night, Basti.” He smiles as innocently as possible, then runs away. Bastian waits a few moments before curiosity gets the better of him, and he grabs his phone and follows the boy to a place that definitely isn’t his room.

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

r u awake??

To: Fußballgott :)))

i am now

?????

To: Prinz Poldi :)))

i think smth is goin on in the kitchens

i followed jule here and i hear ppl talking

can u come here?

im hiding under the table closest to the kitchen door

To: Fußballgott :)))

……

on my way

Lukas arrives five minutes later, slightly out of breath and still half asleep. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been listening and I’m pretty sure Benni, Mats, Julian, Erik, and Matze are in there,” Bastian says.

“Aw cute, they’re having a family meeting,” Lukas says with a smile. Bastian looks at him weirdly. “What? You don’t see it?”

“You’re so strange sometimes,” Bastian says with a quiet laugh. “But come on, we better go in and find out what’s going on.”

He starts to carefully walk towards the door, but it seems that Lukas has other ideas, because he boldly shoves open the door and strolls inside. “Hey guys, what’s the occasion?” he says cheerfully, like it isn’t three in the morning and it’s perfectly normal to find five football players in the kitchen at this hour. Mats, Benni, Erik, Matze, and Julian all turn at the greeting and somehow all manage to have the same deer-caught-in-headlights expression on their faces.

Bastian walks in, takes one look at the scene before him, and collapses into laughter. “I see what you mean about the whole ‘family’ thing, Luki.” He has to hold on to Lukas’ shoulders to keep himself upright.

“I thought you said Basti didn’t suspect anything.” Benni turns and glares at Julian, who just shrugs. Bastian finds himself laughing even harder.

“So what’s actually happening?” he manages to choke out.

Mats sighs and steps out from behind Benni. “It’s my fault. Benni was making some soup for me because I’m feeling shitty and I missed dinner. The kids just tagged along.” Bastian nods in understanding as Lukas gets distracted by the pot on the stove.

“Is this mac and cheese? Louis and I love this stuff!” Lukas dips a finger into the pot and steals a taste of Benni’s hard work.

“Lukas, Benni worked really hard on that. At least ask permission first.” Mats is clearly trying to sound annoyed, but he looks and sounds so sick that the effect is lost.

Benni gazes fondly at him for a few moments until Bastian clears his throat awkwardly. “Okay, well, now that we’re here, maybe we could get some mac and cheese also?”

“Here, hold on a second,” Benni says. He pulls out a stack of bowls from a cupboard and fills five of them with mac and cheese and the last one with soup. After handing out the bowls of mac and cheese, Benni makes everyone sit at the kitchen table and starts feeding Mats the soup.

Lukas and Bastian glance at each other, amused, as Erik, Julian, Matze watch them and laugh amongst themselves; Benni calmly continues to feed Mats soup. After a few moments of awkward silence, they begin to lapse into conversations as they eat. The three youngsters start a contest to see who can finish their mac and cheese the quickest; Julian complains that it’s unfair because he has extra.

Meanwhile, Bastian’s attention is caught by a bit of mac and cheese that Lukas somehow managed to get on his cheek. “You have a little something there,” Bastian points out.

“Where? Here?” Lukas rubs at a spot on his cheek nowhere near where the food actually is.

Bastian laughs as Lukas attempts to lick at the far corners of his mouth, looking like a complete idiot in the process. “No, no, here, just let me get it.” He brings his hand up to Lukas’ face and gently wipes the mac and cheese off.

Maybe because it’s three in the morning and he’s too tired to think straight, or maybe because it’s been ten years of confused emotions, Bastian can’t seem to put his hand back down. His eyes meet Lukas’, who is watching him intently, with a burning intensity. Almost subconsciously, Bastian feels himself leaning in, and he’s really not sure what he wants right now. All he knows is that Lukas is moving closer, too.

“For the love of everything good and sane in the world, why the hell is half my squad in this goddamn kitchen at three in the morning?” Jogi's voice interrupts the moment, and Bastian backs away from Lukas like he’s been scalded. Jogi is standing in the doorway wearing his blue Die Mannschaft t-shirt, pajama pants with little footballs printed on them, and the most done-with-life expression any of them have ever had the honor of witnessing.

Matthias, Erik, and Julian all pause, their mouths stuffed full of mac and cheese, and Benni rolls his eyes when he realizes that he’s going to have to do the explaining.

“Well,” he begins with a sigh, “what happened is -”

“You know what?” Jogi cuts him off. “I don’t even care at this point. This is literally what my life has come to.” Benni and Bastian watch guiltily as Jogi rubs his eyes in frustration while the others try not to laugh when they notice a tuft of hair sticking up on the side of Jogi's head. “I just want everyone back in their rooms. Their own rooms,” he emphasizes, glancing at Mats and Benni.

“That’s the thing,” Benni says. “Mats is really sick and I need to look after him. We’re here because I was making soup for him.” The others are still snickering in the background.

“Just - just go to sleep. Please,” Jogi says, his tone very close to begging. “Sleep wherever you want. Sleep on the roof, for all I care. But I swear, if you guys aren’t fit for training tomorrow, I’m going to bench all of you for the France match.” With that warning, he shuffles wearily out of the kitchens, mumbling to himself.

“Come on, we should get you back in bed.” Benni helps Mats up from the table. “And you three need to go to bed too.”

“But Jogi benches us anyways,” Julian complains. “I’m not even done with my mac and cheese.”

“Listen to Benni,” Mats scolds him. “You can eat it in your room.”

Bastian watches as Mats takes Benni’s hand and the “family” files out of the kitchen (the youngsters argue about who won the mac and cheese eating contest the whole way out), leaving him alone with Lukas. “So...I guess we should go. Back to our rooms, I mean. To sleep.” Bastian awkwardly avoids eye contact with Lukas.

“All right, good night, Basti,” Lukas murmurs. For a moment, he thinks about hugging Bastian before walking out, but he decides against it. Instead, he flees from the kitchen. He hears a faint “Good night Luki,” as he leaves.

****

Per is ready to commit murder when a knock wakes him up at exactly 3:47 am. There’s only one person in the world who would have the balls to try to wake him up at this hour, so he doesn’t even look up to see who walks in. “What do you want, Lukas?” he asks tiredly. “Are you aware of the time?”

The answer is soft and Per almost doesn’t hear it, but when he does, he understands the urgency. “It’s a code red, Per. We need to talk. Now.”

Chapter Text

July 1, 2014 - Campo Bahia

Act like nothing happened. Nothing happened. Nothing… “Morning, Basti.” Lukas smiles at his friend and offers him a seat, careful to avoid any sort of physical contact. He glances over at Per, who offers an approving nod and an encouraging smile.

“Hey, Lukas.” Bastian tries to hide his surprise. He didn’t think Lukas would talk to him at all, not after what they had almost done. “Did you, um, sleep well?”

No, I didn’t sleep at all, I was too busy wondering what could have happened if we weren't interrupted. “Yeah, I slept great,” Lukas says, trying to sound cheerful. “How about you?”

How could I possibly sleep after what we almost did? “Me too. Got a really good sleep,” Bastian says, hoping his smile doesn’t look too forced.

Unfortunately for them, their acting isn’t good enough to fool the rest of the team. Mesut immediately notices the unusual formality between Lukas and Bastian and leans over to Per. “What the hell is going on with them? Is it me or is the sexual tension off the charts today?”

“Well, apparently there was a little incident in the kitchen last night,” Per says quietly. “I’m not really supposed to say, but Mats and Benni and their clan of children were there, Jogi walked in, and there was mac and cheese involved.”

“That sounds...wild.” Mesut looks pretty bewildered by the explanation. “All that romance in one kitchen, how did Julian survive it?”

Jogi chooses this moment to walk in. Bastian and Lukas pointedly avoid eye contact with their coach as he walks past them, much to the amusement of Per and Mesut. Erik, Julian, and Matze are huddled together as usual, determinedly focusing their attention on anything and anyone but Jogi. Benni and Mats stroll in half an hour after breakfast was supposed to start and don’t even look slightly ashamed about it.

“Where have you two been?” Julian hisses as they sit down next to him. “Jogi’s been glaring at us since he got here.”

Mats opens his mouth to reply, but Benni blushes slightly and speaks before Mats can say anything. “It’s nothing, Jule, we just got a little...um, held up.”

Shkodran, Christoph, Mario, André, Erik, and Matthias are all unabashedly listening in, and giggle amongst themselves as Julian stares at Mats and Benni incredulously before shaking his head and muttering, “Unbelievable. Mats is literally recovering from the flu.”

“Ahem.” Jogi clears his throat. “Now that we’re all finally here -” (he glares in Mats and Benni’s direction; Benni has the decency to look reasonably guilty, unlike Mats, who simply grins) - “I have an announcement.”

“Tell us! Tell us!” Thomas chants. Everyone rolls their eyes at him.

“Thank you for that insightful input, Müller,” Jogi says dryly. “Anyway. It has come to my attention that some players are loitering in the halls and, oh, I don’t know, the kitchen, during the night. This is unacceptable behavior.”

“Who would be stupid enough to do that?” Thomas asks loudly. Philipp shushes him, but not before Thomas sees Lukas and Bastian fleetingly glance at each other and fidget slightly. (Erik, Matze, and Julian all look a little uncomfortable too, but Mats and Benni are blissfully oblivious.) “It was Lukas and Bastian!” he whispers to Manuel, who snickers and gives Thomas a high five. “I am going to be so rich by the end of this tournament.”

****

“Hey, Basti. So, how does it feel to be training in 35°C heat?” Lukas is grinning behind the camera as he watches Bastian juggle the ball.

Bastian rolls his eyes and wipes away a bead of sweat. “Keep quiet, you. Shouldn’t you be at injury rehab?”

“Rehab got over ages ago. And it’s more fun to be here and bother you.” Lukas stops rolling the camera and looks up at Bastian. “Come on, do something funny for the camera. We don’t want people thinking you’re a boring old man, now do we?”

“Boring old man, huh?” Bastian tries to sound indignant, but the smile on his face makes it tough.

Lukas lifts the camera back up. “Well, then prove to me you’re not boring, old man.” Bastian sticks his tongue out at his friend before lifting his arms and moving his hips to the right. Lukas actually laughs out loud at the sight. “Oh my god, it’s even worse than being boring, he’s dancing!”

Bastian sways back a forth a few times, then awkwardly shuffles to the left. One of the trainers chooses this moment to walk past, and Bastian comes to a stop and smiles at the camera. “This is the dance Manu and I learned at the beach the other day.”

“It’s horrible,” Lukas says. “I love it.”

Philipp and Per are watching the whole scene unfold from a short distance away. “They’re so ridiculous,” Philipp says fondly. “Look at them.”

Per laughs. “Lukas is so in love and Basti is so oblivious. I swear, if I have to sit through another night of ranting about how they almost kissed or ate mac and cheese at three in the morning or something equally bizarre, I’m literally going to lock them in a room together and not let them leave until they’ve figured themselves out.”

A whistle interrupts the conversation. There’s a collective groan on the pitch when Jogi shouts for “less talking and more running,” but they all do as they’re told anyway.

****

July 3, 2014 - Campo Bahia

Erik and Matthias are sitting on the couch, quietly playing FIFA, when Matze suddenly speaks. “Hey Erik,” he says. “I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” Erik says, laughing as Matze hits him lightly on the shoulder. “Alright, alright, what is it?”

“We should have a darts tournament,” Matze says. “And take a break from me kicking your ass at FIFA.”

“What, so you can lose, just like the billiards tournament?” Erik asks innocently. “And I won FIFA yesterday.”

“Shut up, you totally got lucky in that tournament,” Matze grumbles.

“Yeah, I just got lucky seven times in a row,” Erik says with a grin. “You may be good at FIFA, but we all know you’re shit at real games.”

Matze narrows his eyes. “Oh, you’re on. We’re totally having a darts tournament like, right now.”

Erik and Matze pause the game and throw their game controllers aside. “Are we inviting the entire squad?” Erik asks.

“Uh, no. Can you imagine Thomas trying to play darts? We’d all die,” Matze says matter-of-factly. “Just Mats, Benni, and Jule is fine. Oh, and Miro, obviously, we can’t forget your adopted dad.” Erik shoves Matze playfully before sending out a quick text to the other four.

Julian is the first one to show up, followed by Miro a few minutes later, and Mats and Benni arrive ten minutes after that. “They got here late again. Not even gonna ask,” Julian mutters under his breath to Erik and Matze. The two boys giggle and are immediately on the receiving end of glares from Benni, whose face is deeply flushed, and Mats, whose hair is suspiciously messy.

“Okay, Erik probably told you all but we’re having a darts tournament,” Matze says, hurriedly changing the subject.

“Is it going to be like the billiards tournament?” Miro asks, smiling slightly. “Meaning, are you two only going to play against each other while we watch? Because I hate to break it to you, but that’s not really the definition of a tournament.”

“We’re going to have a real tournament,” Erik insists. “Look, Opa, I drew out the table and everything.” He shows Miro a piece of paper with a table drawn in what looks like blue crayon. “It’s gonna be me versus Matze, you versus Jule, and Mats versus Benni first. Then the winning three play each other and the losing three are against each other and so on.”

Miro smiles and ruffles Erik's hair affectionately. “Alright kiddo, let’s get started then.”

Unfortunately, Erik’s careful planning is ultimately messed up by Miro clearly going easy on Julian, Mats pretending to not know how to throw a dart so Benni has to “teach” him (which mostly involves Benni keeping Mats wrapped in his arms), and Matze being infinitely better than Erik at darts. The tournament ends an hour later with Matze demolishing Erik in the final, Mats and Benni making out in the corner, and Julian complaining about them to a sympathetic Miro.

“You’re shit at darts,” Matze says as he and Erik put the darts back into the box.

“I’m still better than you at billiards,” Erik pouts.

“Aw, come on, don’t be sad,” Matze says placatingly, and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. Erik blushes and smiles shyly at him.

Julian rolls his eyes. “Do you see this? This is what I have to deal with, Miro. Every. Single. Day.”

“You should just be glad Mario and Marco aren’t here. Besides, I think it’s kind of sweet. Enjoy all this while you still can,” Miro says. “Because one day you’re going to get old, and then you’ll wish you could come back to these times.”

****

“Guys, I figured it out!” Toni says cheerfully. Jerome, Mesut, and Sami look up curiously. Toni points at his phone screen, which is displaying the latest Die Mannschaft news. “Jogi was actually really clever about this.”

“Well, are you going to fill us in on what you’re actually talking about?” Mesut asks.

“Okay, well, you know how Jogi told the press that there are seven players with the flu? Well, I thought it was total bullshit, but maybe he wasn’t lying. I mean, there are seven players who are sick, just not in the ‘usual’ way.” The other three stare blankly at him and he continues, “They’re lovesick!”

“What the hell,” Jerome says. “I took off my Beats to listen to this?”

“Think about it, though,” Toni insists. “There’s Lukas, Basti, Mats, Benni, Erik, Matze, and Mario. That’s seven players right there!”

“He does kind of have a point,” Sami says thoughtfully. “But the fact that you spend time figuring things like this out is kind of sad.”

“It helps me keep my mind off transfer season,” Toni says without thinking, and then his eyes widen when he realizes what he just said. Jerome and Mesut stare at him in shock, and Sami winces sympathetically.

“Transfer season?” Jerome asks quietly.

Toni sighs. It’s going to come out eventually anyway, he reasons. Better they hear it from me. “Madrid’s been asking for me,” he admits.

Mesut’s eyes go wide. “Real Madrid?” he asks in the hushed tone he always uses when he talks about his former club. Toni nods.

“What?” Jerome cries. “You can’t seriously be considering that, Toni, they literally just beat us 4-0! At home!”

“Nothing’s final or anything, Boa,” Toni says, wincing. “I’m still young and I think this might really be good for me. But of course I’m gonna wait until after the World Cup is over to make a final decision.”

Jerome still looks upset, and Sami senses that it’s a good time to change the subject. “So, about that list of ‘sick’ players,” he starts. “How much longer do you guys think it’s gonna take Lukas and Bastian to get it together?”

“Too long,” Mesut grumbles. “Whenever it happens, it will literally have been an entire decade too late.”

****

July 4, 2014 - Match vs France; Estádio do Maracanã, Rio de Janeiro

“It’s so beautiful,” Lukas says, gazing at the view from the balcony of their hotel room.

“Yeah,” Bastian says, but he’s not talking entirely about the view. How have I never noticed how nice Lukas’ features are before? God, his eyes are so blue.

“I don’t want this to end. Can we just stay here forever?” Lukas asks, half-joking, half-serious.

“We’ll come back, Luki, I promise,” Bastian says, and he’s being completely serious.

They sit in silence for some time, just taking in their surroundings (although they end up spending more time secretly watching each other). The peace is interrupted by a gentle knock on the glass door.

“Hey guys,” Mario says cautiously. “I was sent up to find you two and your door was open so I just came in. Breakfast started a little while ago and God knows Jogi doesn’t need anything else to worry about.”

“Hi Mario,” Lukas says, greeting him with a smile. “We’ll be down in a bit, I think.”

“Okay,” Mario says.

Bastian thinks Mario seems a little sad as he looks at Lukas and Bastian sitting side-by-side on the balcony. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Mario says, suddenly looking like he’s about to cry. “I just, I miss Marco so much. I really wish he was here, he would love it. I feel so guilty that I get to be here and he doesn’t.”

Lukas smiles sympathetically and wraps his arm around the younger man’s shoulders, carefully helping him sit between him and Bastian. “I know it must be so tough for the both of you.”

“It’s not just that, though,” Mario sniffles. “He posts all these pictures on Instagram with all his friends and he looks so happy and - and what if he doesn’t miss me? What if he doesn’t want me anymore? Sometimes I think he’d be happier with someone that can be there for him all the time, like Marcel.”

“Don’t say that,” Bastian says fiercely. “He loves you, Mario. He loves you so much, anyone can see that. Have you ever seen the way he smiles when he’s with you? Trust me, he never looks happier than when you’re around him. And he definitely misses you just as much as you miss him.”

“Really, Mario, you have nothing to worry about,” Lukas says. “And don’t feel guilty, either, because he knows you deserve to be here. Yeah, it sucks that he's not here too, but he’s so proud of you, kid. Don’t forget that.”

Mario gives them a watery smile. “Thanks guys.” He wipes at his eyes before brightening up a little. “Hey, do you want me to a take a picture of you two? Since you’re wearing the jerseys we got from the locals and everything.”

“Um, sure?” Bastian agrees. He hands Mario his phone, then poses with Lukas for the picture.

“Here you go,” Mario say, handing back the phone. “See you guys at breakfast!”

****

“Oh my god,” Thomas gasps. “I can’t believe this!” He’s looking at his phone with a mixture of repulsion and amusement.

“What is it now?” Philipp asks him, trying to disguise his curiosity as exasperation.

“Just look at this!” Thomas brandishes the phone at Philipp’s face.

“Stop moving your hand! Just give it here.” Philipp grabs the phone and squints at the screen. He sees what Thomas is looking at and shakes his head. “Okay, never mind, Mülli, I totally understand.”

“Hey, he didn’t give me photo creds,” Mario says with a frown. “And he even posted it twice, he could have at least mentioned me once.”

“You took this picture? Come here. Let me hug you.” Thomas leans over Philipp in an attempt to embrace Mario.

“Behave yourself,” Philipp says as Thomas loses his balance and puts more weight on him. “And stop it, you’re crushing me. Your hair is in my face.”

“Sorry, Fips,” Thomas says, not sounding sorry at all. “But I totally won’t be sorry when I take money from you and everyone else after I win all the bets.”

****

“I can’t wait for the match to start,” Mesut says excitedly. “I haven’t seen Karim and Rapha in such a long time.”

“You do know you’re playing against them, right?” Sami asks teasingly. “We don’t need you being confused about which goal to score on. Thank god we’re not playing against Sergio, then we’d really be in trouble.”

Mesut opens his mouth with a comeback in mind, but Jogi’s whistle interrupts him. “Ugh, it’s speech time,” he says instead.

“Okay, team, this is it,” Jogi says. “We’re in the quarterfinals. No more prancing about meaninglessly like one of Müller’s horses will be permitted. Not that it was permitted before. And no disrespect to your horses, Müller.” Thomas gives Jogi a thumbs up and a giant grin as Hansi nudges the coach slightly to get him back on topic. “So, today we’ll be playing against a lot of talented people. There are people like Benzema, Lloris, that newer guy with the nice hair, Griezmann, I believe, and Kos - Kos -” He squints at the paper, trying in vain to read the name.

“Oh, you mean Lolo?” Per says helpfully. He gets a few weird looks from the non-Arsenal players. “What? It’s more fun to say than Laurent or Koscielny.”

“Olive’s gonna be there too!” Lukas says, his face lighting up in excitement.

Bastian looks strangely annoyed as he asks, “Who’s Olive?”

“Olivier Giroud,” Lukas clarifies, still beaming. “You know, me, Mesut, and Per’s Arsenal teammate? I can’t wait to see him!” Lukas doesn’t notice how upset Bastian suddenly looks; the rest of the team does, but no one mentions it.

“Okay, well it’s great that you have friends.” Jogi tries to regain the team’s attention. “Just make sure that during the match, you remember that everyone wearing blue is your opponent.”

****

In the tunnel, the various French and German players who know each other from their clubs greet each other cheerfully. Mesut enthusiastically greets Benzema and Sami gives Varane a friendly clap on the back. Lukas receives a hug from “Lolo,” and seems to be looking for someone else afterwards.

“He’s looking for bae,” Mesut says with a smirk when he sees Bastian intently watching Lukas. Bastian opens his mouth to ask who that is, exactly, but someone beats him to it.

“WHO IS BAE?” Jogi explodes. “I’ve heard at least half the team talking about this ‘Bae’ person within the last week. Mario was saying something about 'Bae' the other day. He also talked about Marco, but that’s not new. Anyway, then Thomas mentioned the same person yesterday. Who is this Bae?”

Hansi pats Jogi on the back to calm him down. “It’s one of those terms kids nowadays use,” he says. “It means: before any-”

Bastian stops listening when he sees the obscenely attractive Olivier Giroud walk up to greet Mesut, Per, and Lukas. He can't help but notice how “Olive” seems to linger a little longer than necessary as he hugs Lukas. “Does he really need to be that close? And who the hell decided jerseys have to be tight now?” he mutters. Philipp lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You are the famous Basti, no?” Olivier's question takes Bastian by surprise. He hadn’t even noticed the Frenchman walk up to him.

“Um, yes, that would be me,” Bastian says, trying not to sound rude.

“Ah, so you’re the one Lukas won’t stop talking abo-” Lukas clamps a hand over Olivier’s mouth hurriedly.

“Don’t you have a match to play in? Get out of here,” Lukas says with a grin, even though his face is flushed red.

Olivier takes the hint and flashes one final perfect smile at Bastian and the Arsenal crew. “Bonne chance, mes amis!” He sends them a wink before walking off.

“You talk about me, huh?” Bastian raises an eyebrow at Lukas, trying hard to hide his sudden surge of inexplicable happiness.

“Shut up,” Lukas says, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Hey, you better go out there and win this thing.”

The image of Lukas wrapped in Olivier’s arms flashes before Bastian’s eyes and for some reason, it makes him feel fiercely determined. “Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

****

Before the match starts, Lloris and Philipp, the captains of their respective teams, talk about racism and how it has no place both in the game and in the world. Once they shake hands and the teams have posed together with the anti-racism poster, the match finally begins.

Everyone starts out a bit shaky, with even Manuel, the great sweeper-keeper, making a mistake early on. Both teams get some half-chances, but for the most part, neither side is doing much more than stringing together passes.

Ten minutes in, Toni is brought down and wins a free kick. As usual, his delivery is flawless, and the ball floats into the box as Mats rises to meet it. His glancing header sends the ball past the entirely-clad-in-yellow Lloris and into the net. Immediately, Mats finds himself engulfed in hugs from his teammates, but there’s only one person in particular he's looking for. The team seems to be able to read his mind and they move away to make way for Benni.

“That was really nice,” Benni says with a proud smile on his face.

“Just nice?” Mats gives Benni a cheeky grin.

“Nice enough,” Benni says nonchalantly, but he’s grinning too. “Aren’t you gonna celebrate with Jule and Matze and Erik? According to Lukas, they act like they’re our adopted kids.” He almost looks worried as he says it, like he isn’t sure how Mats will react.

“I like the sound of that,” Mats says softly. “Our adopted kids. I did tell you once that I wouldn’t mind having kids if it was with you. Anyway, I’ll give them a shoutout.” As they run back to their positions, Mats points to the three youngsters on the bench. (“Look at that,” Lukas says to Per as they watch. “Literally a family.”)

The rest of the match is almost painfully boring, but Germany manages to hang on to their lead. Miro gets taken off for André, and later Mario comes on for Mesut. In the dying minutes of the match, Christoph replaces Toni. The French put together a few promising attacks towards the end, but the German defense holds strong, and they remain in front for the rest of the match. After the final whistle blows, the Germans go around congratulating each other and comforting the French players.

“I hate watching people cry, it makes me want to cry too or shower them with kittens or something,” Erik says to Matze as they walk onto the field. He points to a sobbing Antoine Griezmann. “Like him. Someone give that boy a puppy.”

“You’re such a goddamn softie,” Matze says.

“I am not,” Erik says defensively. “I just have a heart.”

“No, you’re soft,” Matze says, grinning. “But don’t worry, I think it’s kind of cute.”

****

July 5, 2014 - Campo Bahia

“Have you seen Lukas around?” Bastian asks Ron-Robert and Mesut, who are sprawled across the couch and watching Argentina’s match against Belgium. “I’ve been looking for him for like, half an hour.”

“Sorry, haven’t seen him,” Mesut says, not even looking away from the screen.

Ron-Robert, on the other hand, says, “I think he said he was gonna go look for you. I guess you guys missed each other.” He struggles to hide a smirk as he says it.

“Oh. Well, thanks,” Bastian says before wandering back to his house. Benni was probably here when Lukas came, I should ask him, Bastian decides. He walks up to Benni’s room, and since the door is slightly open anyway, Bastian enters. He’s about to open his mouth to speak when he notices that Benni isn’t alone, and he hasn’t even realized Bastian has come in.

Mats and Benni are lying on Benni’s bed, talking quietly to each other. Benni is lying on his back and Mats has his arm wrapped loosely around Benni’s waist, with their legs tangled together. They’re gazing at each other with soft smiles and completely enamored expressions on their faces as they talk, and it’s so intimate and personal that Bastian almost feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to see it.

“You were so amazing yesterday,” Benni says softly.

“You’re always amazing,” Mats says fondly, kissing Benni lightly on the nose.

“You scored the goal, though. The winning goal. We're through to the semifinals because of you,” Benni says, reaching up to brush some of Mats’ curls off his forehead. “I think that deserves some kind of reward, don’t you?”

Mats somehow manages to look even more infatuated than before and murmurs something that sounds a lot like “I love you.” Benni’s reply is a breathy “I love you too,” and then they’re kissing, slow and gentle and loving. Mats slowly starts to shift so he’s leaning over Benni and Bastian is suddenly overcome with an overwhelming sensation of longing. He tears his eyes away from the couple before rushing out of the room.

In a space of five seconds, Bastian turns a corner and finds himself crashing to the ground, his fall somewhat softened by the unfortunate person he has managed to pin down under him.

“Ow, what the - Basti, what?” Lukas apparently isn’t capable of forming coherent sentences yet, recovering from being momentarily stunned.

“God, I’m sorry,” Bastian says with a wince. He suddenly realizes that the way he and Lukas are positioned is eerily similar to the way Mats and Benni had been when he left the room moments earlier. He thinks that maybe he should be trying to get up, but Lukas is looking up at him with the same intensity he had that night in the kitchen, and Bastian can’t bring himself to break his gaze. What are we doing? he thinks, even as his face gets closer to Lukas’.

“Hey, has anyone seen - oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” A voice breaks whatever trance they had been in, and they both scramble to their feet, their faces bright red.

“Julian!” Lukas says, hoping he doesn’t sound as annoyed as he feels. “Wow! Wasn’t expecting you!”

“Why does this always happen to me?” Julian moans. “Guys, I’m so sorry, I was just looking for -”

“Benni,” Bastian finishes tiredly, and Julian nods. “Yeah, I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. Mats scored the winning goal and all, so he and Benni are, well…” He trails off, hoping Julian will take the hint.

“Well, it looks like you two were about to do the same thing,” Julian mutters, too quiet for Lukas and Bastian to hear.

“What was that?” Lukas asks curiously.

“Nothing!” Julians says quickly. “I just said, you know, they’re at it again! Like always.” He rolls his eyes to make the statement more genuine, and silently congratulates himself on getting so much better at cover-up stories. “But anyway, I guess I’ll just, um, go now. Because Benni’s busy and everything. Just tell him I’m going to Matze’s room, if you get the chance. Once they’re done, uh, celebrating.”

“Yeah, we’ll try.” Lukas fakes a smile as best as he can.

Julian shuffles away and it might be Bastian’s imagination, but he thinks he can hear Julian mumble, “I swear, if Matze and Erik are on top of each other too, I’m quitting the team.”

Chapter Text

July 6, 2014 - Campo Bahia

“I’m so bored,” Thomas complains. “And it’s so hot. Why do we have to keep doing these boring drills?”

“We didn’t exactly play our best against France,” Philipp says. “I’m guessing this is some kind of punishment for that.”

“Don’t worry, Mülli. Once training is over, we have a bunch of free time,” Manuel says cheerfully. “We’ll go get ice cream or something.”

“Is it really a good idea to give him sugar?” Philipp mutters, but the other two ignore him.

“Thanks Manu, you’re the best friend ever!” Thomas says, leaping into Manuel’s arms in delight.

“Hey, you two, stop messing around!” Hansi calls. “You’re lucky I saw you guys before Jogi did, or you’d all be running and the whole team would be cursing you right now.”

“Sorry, Hansi,” they chorus together.

Philipp passes the ball back to Thomas before he pauses again. “Actually, I don’t think we have free time. There’re a bunch of press conferences later, right?”

Thomas flicks the ball back with his heel and shrugs. “I wasn’t paying attention, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Only Basti has a press conference,” Manuel corrects Philipp. “The rest of us are free!”

“Free like birds!” Thomas says delightedly, jumping around and flapping his arms. “Ducky, flap with me!”

“Boys!” Hansi looks over just in time to see the soul brothers running in circles around an exasperated Philipp. “Focus!”

Philipp grimaces and sends an apologetic glance to Hansi before glaring at the troublemakers. “Come on, guys, you can make plans later.”

****

“Are you seriously doing this?” Per grumbles. “It’s a press conference, Poldi, these are literally the most boring things that ever happen.”

“I want to see what Basti has to say. He’s our vice-captain, you know, he might mention something important,” Lukas says. He’s flipping through channels, trying to find the press conference, as Per noisily opens a bag of chips on the couch. Per snorts when he hears Lukas’ bullshit excuse to stare at Bastian. Lukas ignores him and joins him on the couch. “Where’d you even get your hands on a bag of chips? I thought Jogi confiscated all the junk food.”

Per shrugs. “I found them in Julian’s bag and I, um, confiscated them from him.”

“You’re not a very friendly giant sometimes. Who would have thought, the BFG picking on little kids? Maybe I should tell Benni, what would he say?” Lukas says jokingly.

“You’re eating the damn chips too,” Per says defensively.

“Yeah, yeah. Now, shush, it’s starting.” Lukas focuses his attention on the screen. Per rolls his eyes but obliges.

After sitting through about ten minutes of Bastian politely answering questions, Per is bored out of his mind. “Lukas, please, stop this absolute torture,” he begs. “Even Basti looks bored.”

“It’s really cute when he does that. It’s just his way of trying to be nice to the journalists.” Lukas’ eyes become slightly dreamy as he sighs, “He’s such a great person, isn’t he?”

“I’m going to puke,” Per says, peering into his bag of chips so he doesn't have to look at Lukas. “Would you like a moment alone with the TV?”

“Shut up.” Lukas throws a pillow at him. “Wait, I have a great idea!”

“What is it now?” Per asks, almost afraid of what the answer will be. “If you’re planning on like, barging into the press conference room and declaring your love, I am out of here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just want you to take a picture of me and Basti so I can post it on Twitter,” Lukas says like it’s no big deal.

“Oh, so a declaration of love, but on Twitter,” Per says. “I get it.”

“It’s not a declaration of love,” Lukas says, blushing slightly. “We post this stuff all the time.”

“Trust me, I know,” Per mutters as he fumbles with Lukas’ phone. “Okay, smile!”

****

“So, what flavors does everyone want?” Manuel asks.

“Chocolate!”

“Strawberry shortcake!”

“Vanilla!”

“Cookies and cream!”

“Pistachio!” They all look at Erik. “What? It tastes really good.”

“Oh my god, how did I let Benni persuade me to bring all you children along? Why is Christoph the only sane one here?” Manuel laments. “Alright, so who asked for vanilla?”

Julian raises his hand. “Can I have sprinkles on that too? The rainbow kind, please. But only on the left side. I like to have half with sprinkles and half without because I get tired of them.”

Thomas laughs. “That is so weird but also so genius. And why do you always raise your hand?”

“Don’t tell us you’re gonna start calling Manu ‘Mr. Neuer,’” Matthias says, not bothering to hide his laugh.

“I hate you all,” Julian says, crossing his arms sullenly.

“Okay, calm down everyone,” Manuel says, trying to gain control again.

“You could even say that everyone needs to...chill,” Thomas says, pointing to the ice cream. Manuel pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, okay, that’s it. I’m sorry, Manu.”

“Here, Manu, I know what everyone wants,” Christoph says. “Thomas wants chocolate, Jule wants vanilla, Erik wants pistachio, Matze wants cookies and cream, and I want strawberry shortcake.”

“Thanks, soul bro.” Manuel smiles and ruffles Christoph’s hair. Christoph can’t stop grinning after hearing Manuel include him in the exclusive group.

“We let Christoph be a soul bro. I’m Manu’s original soul brother, though,” Thomas explains to Julian, Matze, and Erik, who couldn’t possibly look less interested.

“Mülli, here, take your phone. You just got a notification and I’m ordering everyone’s ice cream.” Manuel hands him the phone and turns back to the counter.

Thomas checks the tweet and almost immediately bursts into laughter. “I - I can’t believe - what is this?” he chokes out.

Erik, Matthias, Julian, and Christoph can’t contain their laughter either upon seeing the picture. Thomas gets ice cream on his nose from laughing so hard, making the group burst into a new fit of hysterics.

“Fips was right. You guys don’t need any more sugar,” Manuel sighs, shaking his head. Even as he does it, he can’t help but crack a smile when Thomas attempts to lick the chocolate off his own nose. “Here, Mülli, I got it,” he says, wiping the ice cream off with the hem of his shirt. Then, he gestures to the rest of them. “Come on, I think we should start heading back. Mats and Benni will kill me if anything happens to these three.”

****

July 8, 2014 - Match vs Brazil; Estádio Mineirão, Belo Horizonte

“Okay, team, we’re doing things a little differently today,” Jogi announces to the players, who are gathered outside the bus. “As a team bonding exercise, you are all required to sit next to someone you’ve never sat next to before during the tournament.”

Mats shoots a worried look at Benni, who squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re probably getting sick of me anyways.”

“Don’t ever say that,” Mats says seriously. “I could never, ever get sick of you.” Benni smiles shyly back at him.

“You two are gross,” Julian says, interrupting their moment. “Anyway, can I sit next to you, Mats? And Benni, Matze says he wants to sit next to you.”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Mats says, ruffling his hair. “Where’s Erik going to go?”

“I think I heard Miro saying something about Erik sitting by Thomas. Poor thing,” Julian says sympathetically.

“Well, see you in a bit,” Benni says quietly to Mats, who pulls him into a tight hug, burying his face into Benni’s shoulder and presses a soft kiss to his neck.

“For the love of everything holy, you’re literally going to be on the same bus,” Julian says, rolling his eyes. “Just sit in the row in front of us if being too far apart is going to be such an issue.”

At the other end of the bus, Bastian and Lukas are awkwardly searching for someone else to sit by.

“Ah, yes! Per!” Lukas calls.

“Poldi, we’ve sat next to each other before, remember?” Per says with a smirk. “You’ll have to find someone else.”

“Lukas, sit by me,” Mesut says hurriedly. Lukas smiles gratefully at him.

“Basti, you wanna sit by me?” Kevin offers as Lukas and Mesut turn to leave. “Oi, stop watching Lukas and answer.”

“Sure,” Bastian agrees, blushing as he redirects his attention to Kevin. “And I wasn’t watching Lukas, where did you get that idea?”

“Okay, whatever you say,” Kevin says, sighing heavily as they get on the bus. “But I’m just saying, if you keep this up, it’s going to be a long ride.”

****

For about the first two minutes, the bus is significantly quieter than usual. Jogi revels in the silence for the short amount of time that it lasts (and only Hansi knows that this is the real reason he wanted everyone to sit next to someone different). Unfortunately for him, the volume increases drastically as the players begin to realize that it doesn’t really matter who they’re sitting next to, because they are all friends and can all hold decent conversations with each other.

Mario and Jerome are next to each other at the front, with André sitting by himself across the aisle from them, but they’re all talking together. Behind André, Sami and Toni are talking about Real Madrid, while Miro and Ron-Robert, sitting behind them, are trying to simultaneously talk and ignore the noise coming from the back of the bus. Erik and Thomas are in the last row, and since Erik took the window seat, Thomas is able to chatter away to Manuel and Christoph, who are sitting across the aisle, and to Philipp and Per, who are in front of them.

Mats, who is sitting in front of the chatterbox, apologetically stops talking to Benni, who’s in the row in front of him (Julian rolls his eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day), and turns around in an attempt to save Erik’s sanity. “Hey, Thomas, I have a fun idea,” he says, interrupting Thomas’ story about the time he and Lisa invited Manuel to go horseback riding. “Let’s play cards.”

Philipp immediately, gratefully, agrees. “That sounds like a fantastic idea. I’m pretty sure I have a deck somewhere...” He rummages in his bag for a while before producing a set of playing cards. Fortunately, Thomas seems delighted at the idea, and soon, Mats, Philipp, Manuel, and Thomas are deeply engrossed in a highly competitive game of Go Fish.

Jogi rolls his eyes when he notices the game. “If only they could stay this competitive during matches. If I have to sit through another mind-numbingly boring match like the France one, I may just give up.”

Hansi hands him a set of headphones. “Drown out the noise if you want, but I wouldn’t worry about the match. I think they’re going to be pretty motivated today.”

In the middle of the bus, behind Mario and Jerome, Lukas and Mesut are loudly discussing Arsenal. “The new kits look decent, honestly,” Mesut says. “I was worried because Puma jerseys are really tight, but now that I’ve seen them, they’re not too bad at all. They could be better, but still.”

“Olive looks pretty great in all the kits,” Lukas says, grinning. “It’s like they were made specifically for his body type.”

Behind them, Kevin is stuck dealing with Bastian, who's trying and failing to pretend that he isn’t listening to Lukas and Mesut’s conversation and that it isn’t bothering him. “Basti, you realize that you’ve been gripping my arm for like, twenty minutes now, right? I think you’re cutting off my blood circulation.” Bastian doesn’t reply, too busy trying to hear what the two Arsenal players are saying.

“I guess the main problem is that the jerseys won’t look that good on people who don’t have the right figure,” Mesut says.

“Oli has a really nice figure, though,” Lukas says. “It’s practically perfect. I mean, it’s Olive; he’s always perfect, but his shoulder to waist ratio is to die for.”

“If he says one more thing about Olivier freaking Giroud, I might actually rip your arm off,” Bastian says, anger building inside him.

“What?” Kevin asks, alarmed. “Basti, you need to take a deep breath.” Another glance at Bastian’s stormy expression makes Kevin realize that it probably wasn’t the smartest decision to sit within listening distance of Lukas.

“I agree with Kevin,” Roman cuts in, joining their conversation from his seat behind them. Shkodran, sitting next to him, is listening to music and dancing in his seat, blissfully unaware of his surroundings.

Kevin and Bastian look at Roman, taken completely off guard by his interruption. “Um, hi,” Bastian says. “Was there a problem?”

Roman stares at them for a moment. “I have genuine concerns,” is his only response.

“Okay…” Kevin says slowly. “Well, thanks for that, Roman. We’re very sorry that you’re concerned.” Bastian’s grip on his arm loosens slightly and he takes this chance to wriggle out of the death grip. “Roman has a point though. I’m a little worried too. You and Lukas need to have a nice long talk as soon as possible because this is getting ridiculous.”

“No we don’t. There’s nothing wrong. What are you talking about?” Bastian seems genuinely puzzled. Kevin can’t tell if it’s good acting or just the ten years of denial taking hold.

“You,” Roman says, pointing at Bastian before picking up the plastic garbage bag next to his seat, “are more lame than this plastic bag.” With that statement, he retreats back to his headphones, leaving Bastian open-mouthed and flabbergasted.

“Why does he even have a garbage bag in the first place?” Bastian asks grumpily.

“Probably to deal with trash like you,” Kevin says affectionately.

“Thanks,” Bastian says dryly. “I really appreciate that.”

****

When the bus arrives at the stadium a few hours later, everyone gets off in groups of twos and threes. Lukas, having gotten off the bus before Bastian, waits for his friend outside the doors.

“Where the fuck are my bags?” Bastian digs through the pile of luggage next to the bus.

“Wow, someone’s in a bad mood,” Lukas says with a smirk. “I already got them for you.”

“Oh, thanks.” Bastian reaches to grab a bag, not sounding very thankful at all.

“Alright, what’s with the grumpy face? Did Roman hurt your feelings?” Lukas tries to coax an answer out of Bastian. “Kevin told me about the plastic bag thing. I mean, I wouldn’t say that’s the harshest insult ever, but it’s not exactly nice either.”

Roman’s not the one who hurt my feelings, Bastian thinks bitterly. “It’s nothing,” he tells Lukas.

“Are you upset because we didn’t sit next to each other? Because obviously I would have sat next to you if I could have,” Lukas says anxiously. “You’re my best friend, Basti, there’s no one more important in the world to me. Except Louis, of course, but that’s different.”

It’s hard for Bastian to stay upset after hearing that. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just being stupid again. Must be the nerves.”

Lukas grins. “Don’t worry. Come on, let’s go inside.”

They walk through the halls together. At first, Lukas is the one driving the conversation, but after a few jokes, both of them are back to normal, laughing and talking. “Hey, where is everyone? These halls are completely empty,” Bastian says suddenly.

“They might be on the pitch or something,” Lukas says.

They round a corner and run straight into Thomas. “I found them!” Thomas shouts joyfully. “Come on.” He tugs at Bastian’s sleeve. “They’re serving pasta for lunch. I already had some, it’s delicious. And I danced on the field, too. Kevin told me I was going to choke, but I didn’t, so there.” Lukas and Bastian exchange amused glances before following their excitable teammate through the halls.

****

The relaxed atmosphere from the bus is nonexistent in the locker room. Everyone is tense with anticipation, excitement, and anxiety. This is the semifinal, after all, and they can’t afford to slip up for even a second. Philipp, Per, Lukas, Bastian, and Miro are especially nervous, because they’ve gotten this far so many consecutive times, only to lose out at the last minute.

“Alright, listen up, everyone!” Jogi shouts in an unnecessarily loud voice. “I’m not going to talk for very long today because your captain, Mr. Lahm, has requested to speak to all of you today.”

“Thank goodness,” Erik says, breathing a sigh of relief. “At least Philipp is actually decent at making speeches.”

“Hey, don’t be rude,” Miro warns quietly. It’s the most he’s said in the past hour, because since the morning, he’s had the unshakeable feeling that something extraordinary is going to happen today. Perhaps it’s just hopeful thinking, but Miro feels as if this match, his last World Cup semifinal, is going to be one to remember.

“We’re playing the host nation today,” Jogi says. “Almost the entire stadium is going to be cheering for them. You need to show them that none of that matters, that you’re strong enough to break the sound barrier.”

“Something has to be moving at 343 meters per second to break the sound barrier,” Julian mumbles to Benni, but Matze hears him too.

“Why do you know this?” Matze asks. “You’re literally such a nerd.”

“I learned it in school. I liked the number, so I memorized it,” Julian says as Jogi rambles on about how Neymar’s absence doesn’t change the difficulty of the match.

“How can you even like a number?”

“It’s symmetrical, you know, like 3 then 4 then 3, and -” Julian is stopped by a soft kick from Benni.

“Jule, you really need to be quiet during the speeches,” Benni scolds him. “It’s disrespectful.”

“Matze started it,” Julian grumbles, but he stops talking.

“Okay, I’m done, so now Philipp will talk,” Jogi concludes. Philipp stands and walks into the center of the room, gesturing for everyone to stand and gather around him.

“Eight years ago, the German team, our team, was in the same position we’re in now. The semifinals of a World Cup, and in our own country, too. And we thought that we had it. We thought we could do it. But we fell short.” He looks around at all of them, his eyes shining with emotion. “Four years ago, we were here again. Many of you probably remember; you were there. And we thought, this is it. This is our year. But it wasn’t.” The room is completely silent as they drink in his words. “We’re not letting that happen this time. It’s not going to happen. I honestly believe that this is the best squad we’ve had. I might sound like a superstitious ass, but I think the third time’s the charm. We are going to go out there, and we are going to destroy them.”

The team breaks out into applause as soon as he stops speaking. “That was maybe the best speech I’ve ever heard in my life,” Thomas tells Manuel, actually being completely serious for once.

Everyone breaks off into small groups for their last-minute pre-match conversations. Mario, on the other hand, makes a beeline for his phone.

To: Marcinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

fips just gave a super emotional speech it was gr8

bout 2 head out 2 tunnel

To: Götzinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

good luck ill b cheerin 4 u <3

“Hello? Mario? Are you there?” Mario looks up to see André waving his hand in front of his face. “Am I interrupting a romance? I have no one else to talk to.”

“What are you even talking about?” Mario asks him. “Honestly, you make like, no sense when you speak.”

“No need to be so rude,” André mutters. “We’re all leaving anyways. Everyone was about to leave you. You should be thanking me for waiting for you and being a good friend in general.”

“Alright, alright. Just let me send one more text and then we’ll go.” Mario rapidly types something and hits send.

****

Marco’s phone vibrates on the table and nearly falls off, but he catches it just in time and reads the text.

“Your smile is ridiculous,” Marcel grumbles. “I’m going to need another beer if I have to deal with this for the next two hours.”

“I am not smiling that much,” Marco says defensively. He throws a pillow at his friend in retaliation.

“I’m just telling the truth,” Marcel says. “You’re literally so besotted with that boy.”

“Shut up,” Marco tells him. “Look, Micha’s talking, we should listen.” He turns the volume of the TV up so they can hear Alexi Lalas and Michael Ballack talking about their expectations for the game.

Then there’s the montage; all the games and goals he’s missed compacted into a two minute clip. Marco silently curses the stupid green cast on his ankle and swings back an extra large gulp of his beer.

“You gonna be okay?” Marcel looks over at him.

“I’m great,” Marco says. The teams are walking out onto the field. “Wow, I think Fips got shorter.”

“Who’s that kid on Brazil?” Marcel points vaguely at the screen.

“Which one?” Marco squints at the line of Brazilians.

“The one that looks sixteen years old.”

“Oh, Oscar? He really does look young, doesn’t he? André told me that he actually looks even younger in person.” Marco is thankful for the small talk, keeping his mind off the bitterness of not being with his team on the pitch.

“And that guy has fantastic hair. I think he even beats your stupid llama haircut,” Marcel says teasingly.

“David Luiz’s hair is not better than mine, thank you very much.”

The conversation dies off when the match begins. Brazil starts out pretty strong, winning a corner within the first minute itself. Luckily, Germany begins to regroup and press forward soon after.

Marco nearly knocks his beer over when, in the tenth minute, Thomas breaks through the Brazilian defense and calmly slots Toni’s corner into the net. “Did you see that run? Where is the defense? They should have shut that down immediately!”

About ten minutes later, Miro becomes the all-time top goal scorer in World Cup history, and Marco wishes more than ever that he could have been there to witness it and congratulate him in person.

Instead, the most he can do is watch as Brazilian team breaks down and crumble under the persistent German attack. Just one minute after Miro’s historic goal, Toni breaks through and scores another.

“I don’t play football professionally, but I’m pretty sure this is not supposed to be happening,” Marcel says in disbelief when Toni scores his second goal within another minute. And again, four minutes later, Mesut and Sami exchange passes before Sami drives home a fifth.

“We’re 5-0 up,” Marco says, a little stunned. “We’ve been playing for half an hour. Am I dreaming?”

“I’m kind of feeling bad for the Brazilians, though. Look at them, they look so sad,” Marcel says.

“I know it sounds horrible, but I can’t even feel that bad for them because they beat us in 2002,” Marco says a little guiltily. “We could have won that World Cup, but they took it away from us, right in the second half of the final.”

The rest of the first half is much calmer, with Brazil still getting nowhere near the goal and Germany basically dominating the play.

“Do you think it’s safe for me to pee without missing another goal yet?” Marcel asks as the half comes to an end. Marco laughs and nods. His phone buzzes right as Marcel gets off the couch.

To: Marcinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

did u see that? wtf just happened

To: Götzinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

did that actually happen

tbh that was prob the craziest thing ive ever seen

To: Marcinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

omg jogi isnt even happy tho

he says we cant let our guard down

“like the trojans and the wooden horse”

To: Götzinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

lmao his similes are the worst

do u think ull be subbed on?

To: Marcinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

prob not i think andre will play tho

To: Götzinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

tell him i say hi

lol has he made any new friends yet?

To: Marcinhoooooo <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

nope apparently he has “no one else to talk to”

whoops i gtg, i love you, ttyl <3

The second half starts with the Brazilians looking slightly more dangerous than before, but not by much. Per comes on to replace Mats early in the half, and André comes on a little later for Miro. Ten minutes later, he scores off a cross from Philipp.

Seven minutes later, Sami gets subbed off. “Aw, look, Jule is getting his first chance to play,” Marco says. “Benni and Mats must be so proud.” Marcel looks at him weirdly. “It’s a long story. They’re the new couple on the team, apparently. Took them long enough.”

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Marcel says, shaking his head in amusement.

Three minutes later, André scores a gorgeous goal to give Germany a seventh. “I think that’s a serious contender for goal of the tournament,” Marco says appreciatively. “That was honestly beautiful.”

The match ends with a horrible miss from Mesut and a consolation goal for Brazil from Oscar. Marco understands why Manuel looks so angry because the defending was horrific, but he also thinks that Brazil at least deserved something.

“I can’t watch that boy cry. God, that’s heartbreaking.” Marcel watches an equally devastated David Luiz hug a sobbing Oscar.

“Just look at our players instead,” Marco says. “They’re all comforting Brazilian players, but that’s a nice thing to see, isn’t it? Really great sportsmanship.”

“I think your opinion is a bit biased, you know, since you’re in love with one of the players,” Marcel says with a smirk.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, but I’ll have you know, Mario is fantastic and wonderful and -”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s your sunshine and your shining star and your world, I know,” Marcel grumbles. “You guys are sickening.”

“You know what’s even more sickening?” Marco asks suddenly. “Them.” He points to the screen, where Bastian is giving a post-match interview; Lukas has just walked up behind him and joined in. “Look at them, they’re so obvious.”

“I think something is in the water you guys drink because everyone on your team is hella gay,” Marcel snickers.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

Marcel shrugs and says for the second time that day, “Hey, I’m just telling the truth.”

****

“Opa! You’re a hero!” Miro’s not sure who says it, but it doesn’t matter because apparently the entire team shares the sentiment. They gather around him in a large group hug and for once, he allows himself to just soak it in and enjoy it. It has never been his dream to be a big name remembered in history, but now he decides that maybe it’s okay to let himself be selfish, to let himself be happy about this. He’s the top goalscorer in World Cup history.

Once they finish celebrating with Miro, Jogi makes them all sit down and listen to one more speech. “What happened today out there was...unexpected. We didn’t expect it,” he says. “But I will say, and I know, this is a really shocking thing, but I’m proud of how you handled the situation out there.” Overdramatic gasps fill the air at Jogi’s praise, and Thomas actually pretends to faint. Jogi rolls his eyes and continues, “You remained professional when it was a difficult thing to do, and you displayed fantastic sportsmanship. But it’s not all roses, okay? You conceded a goal, which should never have happened, because the defense shouldn’t have been more nonexistent than unicorns.”

“Unicorns don’t exist? This is horrible!” Thomas fake sobs. Philipp steps on his foot to shut him up.

“Once again, thank you for your contribution,” Jogi says in a bored tone. “Anyway, I’ll allow you all to do what you want tonight, but tomorrow, you better be at training, wide awake and ready to go. We have lots to work on.” With that, he walks out of the room.

“You’d think he’d be a little happier,” Lukas says, amused. “I mean, we are in the World Cup final for the first time since 2002.”

“Yeah, but I guess he has a point,” Bastian says. “I mean, we still need to win the final, right? Just being in the final doesn’t really guarantee anything.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Lukas concedes. “Hey, we should take a picture. Miro! Come be in our picture!”

Miro walks over. “What do you need me in it for?”

“You’re the hero of the day! Of the year, even,” Lukas says. “You have to be in it!” As Miro sits down, Mats and Benni walk by and look curiously at the trio. “Oh, perfect! Can one of you take our picture? Whoever doesn’t take it can be in the picture too.”

“I’ll take it,” Benni says quickly. Mats looks at him questioningly and Benni explains, “I don’t look so great right now. I’d rather not have a picture taken of me.”

“What are you talking about?” Mats demands. “You’re gorgeous, Benni. You always look like a million Euros.”

As Benni blushes, Lukas and Bastian roll their eyes. “Oi, stop flirting with your boy and just come here, Mats,” Bastian says.

“You’re one to talk, look at you and Lukas,” Mats grumbles quietly enough that Bastian can’t hear, but he sits down anyway.

“Smile, everyone!” Benni takes the picture and hands the phone back to Lukas.

****

“I can’t believe it,” Mats groans. He throws his phone onto the bed in disgust. It ends up hitting the mattress with too much force and drops to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” Benni hears the thud and runs into the room looking worried. His hair is still dripping from the shower, leaving damp spots on his t-shirt.

Mats, lying facedown on the bed, points to his phone without looking up at Benni. “My face looks horrible and now it’s all over the internet because he decided to post it, not once, not twice, but three different times. I look like I’m in pain.”

Benni sits on the bed and looks at the picture on the screen. “Well first of all, your face never looks horrible, so you really don’t need to worry about that. Now, I’m not going to lie, you do look like you’re in pain, but you look like an angel in pain, still perfect. And nobody’s going to notice. I mean, look at those two smiling like idiots. Even Miro looks like he doesn’t want to be there.”

“Thanks Benni.” Mats finally looks up and a giant grin spreads across his face when he sees what Benni is wearing. “You’re wearing my Dortmund shirt.”

Benni fidgets shyly. He’d never admit it out loud to anyone, but he likes wearing Mats’ shirts. He likes how they’re a little too big around his shoulders and the way they smell like Mats’ various hair products. “Yeah, it’s actually kinda comfy. What kind of material do you guys use? The Schalke shirts are never this soft,” Benni says, trying hard not to blush as Mats’ eyes linger on him.

“You look really good in that shirt.” Mats ignores the question. “Keep it.”

“Do you know what would happen if any of the Schalke boys found this shirt lying around?” Benni asks.

“Yeah,” Mats says with a glint in his eyes. “They’d know exactly who you belong to.”

Chapter Text

July 11, 2014 - Campo Bahia

“I can’t believe we’re leaving Campo Bahia today,” Lukas says as he stuffs another shirt haphazardly into his bag. “Like, this is the last time we’re gonna be together as housemates. Isn’t that so weird?”

“I guess I really am gonna miss this,” Jerome says. “You were all great housemates.”

“Awww, thanks Boa,” Sami says, grinning. “But yeah, I agree, this house was a lot of fun.”

“Lukas wouldn’t really know, though, now would he?” Per teases. “He spent so much time, well, in other places.”

“Hey, I spent a decent amount of time here! It’s not my fault Basti wanted me to visit his house all the time,” Lukas says defensively. “If anything, it’s actually Benni’s fault for having Mats in his room all the time and Basti wanting a distraction.”

“Signs of denial: keeps on blaming it on other people,” Jerome mumbles to Ron-Robert. Lukas doesn’t hear, but he narrows his eyes when Ron-Robert cracks a smile.

“Hey, it’s almost two, weren’t you going to meet up with -” Per trails off to avoid making a big deal in front of everyone else.

“You know we know who you’re talking about, right? There’s no point trying to hide it, it’s not like it’s some big secret or anything,” Jerome says.

“Aw, that’s cute. Afternoon strolls with Schweini on the beach?” Mesut asks, smirking slightly.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s this new and exciting thing called hanging out with my friends,” Lukas says shortly. “Bye.”

“What the hell are we? Trash?” Jerome asks as Lukas leaves the room.

“Honestly, it’s almost embarrassing how in denial he is,” Ron-Robert says.

“True,” Jerome agrees. “Like, the bet that Toni and I made with Thomas is on point, because clearly nothing is going to happen unless someone interferes, and fast.”

****

“Someone needs to interfere. I can’t stand it anymore,” Thomas declares.

Manuel jumps in surprise at the sound of Thomas’ voice. He hadn’t been expecting any visitors. “God, Mülli. You scared me. Why aren’t you packing? We’re leaving soon and Philipp does not want to wait for you again.”

“Packing is the least of my worries. Guess what I saw right outside my window?” Thomas plops himself down at the edge of Manuel’s bed, making himself at home.

“I don’t know, what?” Manuel continues placing his belongings neatly into his suitcase only to have a pillow thrown at him.

“Pay attention, Manu. You can pack later. I saw Basti and Lukas walking to the beach. Again.” Thomas falls back onto the mattress, clutching his face in his hands like beach strolls are the most distressing things in the world.

“So?” Manuel asks, tossing the pillow back at Thomas. “How is that any different than what they usually do?”

“That’s exactly my point, Manu!” Thomas gesticulates wildly to emphasize his point. “They’re not doing anything different! Meaning, they’re still not together! I’ve got a lot of money at stake here!”

“That is true,” Manuel concedes. “You’re dealing with like, 2000 Euros or something.”

“Which brings me back to my original point,” Thomas says. “Someone has to interfere.”

“Your bet with Toni and Boa kind of prevents you from doing that, though,” Manuel reminds him.

“Yeah, I can’t interfere.” A devilish smirk spreads across Thomas’ face. “But other people sure can.”

****

“I’m gonna miss this,” Bastian sighs as he and Lukas stroll along the shoreline. “It’s hard to believe it’s only been a month. I feel like we’ve been here forever. I don’t want it to end.”

“We’ll come back,” Lukas promises, wrapping his arm around Bastian’s shoulders. “Hey, remember Catwoman?”

Bastian looks at him like he’s gone insane. “What? Who is that?”

“Catwoman? You know, the cat that I texted you about a while ago?” Lukas says like it’s obvious.

“You never told me you named it Catwoman,” Bastian says, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Lukas says apologetically. “I must have forgotten. But anyway, I’m gonna have to say bye to her, so you should finally come meet her. I mean, we can finish walking here, obviously, but after.”

“It would be an honor,” Bastian says, smiling widely.

****

“Come on, Mats! You said you’d be done packing by now.” Benni rolls his eyes as he walks into Mats’ room to find almost nothing in his suitcase.

“Sorry,” Mats says sheepishly. “Erik kind of pressured me to play FIFA with him? For like, two hours?”

“Typical,” Benni mutters, bending over to pick up a shirt so Mats won’t see that he’s smiling. (Mats sees it anyway.)

Mats sits on the bed and watches Benni gather his belongings. “You don’t have to pack my stuff, you know. I’m perfectly capable.”

Benni wrinkles his nose in disgust when he discovers the pile of dirty socks Mats has hidden under the bed. “Apparently, you aren’t. I can’t believe we slept above this.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining then,” Mats smirks. Benni blushes and throws a particularly dirty sock at him. Mats throws his hands up in surrender. “Fine, at least let me help you then. I want to go to the beach one last time.”

They’re done within half an hour, thanks to Benni’s competency at cleaning. (He would have spent a little more time on it, but Mats forces him to leave it.) Upon leaving Mats’ room, they almost immediately bump into Erik, who is finally about to go to his room to start packing. “Hey guys, where are you off to? We don’t have that much time until we leave.”

“We’re just going for a quick walk,” Benni says. “It won’t take that long, probably.”

“If you see Matze, can you send him here? I need him to help me organize my things,” Erik says. They raise their eyebrows at him skeptically and Erik reddens. “Okay, fine, I don’t technically need him to help me, but I would prefer him to be around. Because we’re friends.”

“I’m sure you are,” Mats says with a wink. “Don’t worry, Erik, we’ll let him know.” Erik beams at them and runs off to his room.

Hand in hand, Mats and Benni make their way down to the beach. (They end up finding Matze with Julian on the way, and they send them both to Erik’s room.) “I’m really gonna miss it here,” Benni says wistfully.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Mats says, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Benni looks at him and sighs. “We’re doing this now, then?”

“We have to talk about it eventually,” Mats points out. “Let’s face it, Benni, after the World Cup is over, we’re back to our clubs. Our rival clubs. And we aren’t gonna see each other that often.”

“So, what? You think we can’t make it work?” Benni asks quietly.

“Of course we can!” Mats says, looking scandalized. “It’s just going to be really tough. For me, at least. Because I’m like, 200 percent sure that I will struggle with not seeing you every day.”

“Well, I can assure you, it isn’t going to be any easier for me,” Benni says with a wry smile. “I’ll probably be texting you nonstop every day until you’re tired of me.”

“Never, Benni,” Mats says firmly. “I’ve told you before, I will never be tired of you.” He pulls Benni in for a kiss to prove his point.

Benni smiles against his lips and pulls away to say, “Derbies are gonna be really interesting from now on.”

Mats laughs out loud. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. In fact, I’m gonna play twice as hard against you guys.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Benni says with a grin. “Of course, I’ll be doing the same against you guys. And after the match, well -” He trails off with a gleam in his eye.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Mats says before leaning in again.

****

“Matze!” Erik opens the door and hugs his friend. He notices Julian impatiently standing behind Matze and immediately steps away. “Oh, hi Jule.” He moves towards Julian like he’s going for a hug at the same time that Julian tries to move past him, and they end up awkwardly embracing as Matze giggles in the background.

“Ugh, Matze, please,” Julian says impatiently. “We don’t need this right now. What we need to do is pack Erik’s things.”

“But I wanna play FIFA,” Matze whines.

“We’re literally leaving in like, two hours,” Julian says disbelievingly as he starts folding a shirt. “As in, we are never coming back here. Don’t you think it’s maybe a little important for Erik to actually bring his things along?”

“Well, you helped me pack, so why don’t you help him too?” Matze looks delighted at his own suggestion.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Julian sighs, gesturing to the large pile of neatly folded clothes on the bed. (He’s picked up a few tricks for efficiently folding clothes from rooming with Benni for away games with Schalke.)

“Thank you Jule,” Erik says gratefully.

“I mean, you could help,” Julian mutters loudly enough that they can hear him. “That way, we could finish quicker and then we could all play FIFA.”

“Fine, we’ll help,” Matze says.

“Great! You’re in charge of the underwear,” Julian says, smirking. Erik and Matze both turn bright red.

“Why can’t Erik be in charge of that?” Matze chokes out. “It’s his underwear.”

“Please, Matze, don’t even try to pretend like it bothers you. Plus, you should start getting familiar with his underwear. You know, get to know each other.” Julian looks far too pleased with himself as he turns back to the clothes pile.

“You’re the worst,” Erik says, still blushing.

Julian grins. “And yet, you both still love me.”

They’re shoving the last of Erik’s belongings into his suitcase when Erik stops and frowns. “Wait, I’m missing a shirt. I’m 100 percent sure I packed eight shirts and I only see seven.”

Matze suddenly becomes very interested in the pile of underwear. “Wow! You have BVB underwear? That’s crazy! I didn't know they made these things.” He picks up the boxer shorts and pretends that they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“But Matze, you’ve seen me wear those before,” Erik says. Julian’s expression makes him blush and backtrack. “I mean, in the locker rooms. I wear them around the locker rooms because, you know, that’s what everyone does.” He’s very clearly embarrassed, but the whole situation does provide a sufficient distraction from the original topic, and as Erik turns away to resume packing, Matze lets out a tiny sigh of relief.

Unfortunately for him, Julian has caught on and leans over to him, whispering, “Don’t think I don’t know that you took the shirt, Matze. I see all.” Matze goes quiet, and Erik is left trying to figure out why Julian has a shit-eating grin on his face for the rest of the afternoon.

****

“Um, are we interrupting something?” a voice asks amusedly, and Mats and Benni break apart in alarm. They look up from where they’re sitting on the sand to see Lukas and Bastian smirking at them.

“What does it look like?” Mats says crossly, his arms still loosely wrapped around Benni.

“Well, it looks like you’re trying to eat each other’s faces, but maybe that’s just me,” Lukas says. Bastian cracks up next to him as Mats and Benni glare at them. “What are you guys doing here, anyway?”

“This is a public beach, you know,” Benni says. “You two aren’t the only ones who can take romantic strolls along the shoreline.”

“What?” Bastian says way too quickly. “That’s not what this is. There’s nothing romantic about this.”

“Yeah,” Lukas is quick to add, even though his face is red. “We’re just walking on the beach. Because that’s what friends do sometimes. That’s all.” Both of them are fidgeting and pointedly looking anywhere but at each other, and now it’s Mats and Benni’s turn to laugh.

“Sure, sure.” Mats grins mischievously. “I’m sure that’s all it is. Wouldn’t you agree, Benni?”

“Of course I would agree,” Benni says. “There’s clearly nothing else going on here. I mean, besides the sexual tension and the blatant heart eyes, but who notices that, right?”

“Yeah, we’re just gonna go now...” Bastian says awkwardly. He grabs Lukas’ wrist and pulls him away, leaving the highly amused Mats and Benni behind them.

****

“Where are the lovebirds?” Thomas demands. “And I mean both sets.” The rest of the team is gathered in the dining hall, not because there is any kind of food available, but because it’s the only place they all fit comfortably.

“Mats and Benni are at the beach,” Erik says. “They wanted to go for a walk before we leave.”

“I’m surprised you and Matze didn’t decide to go for a little stroll too,” Mesut teases. “It seems to be on every couple’s to-do list.”

Erik and Matze redden as Julian grins devilishly and says, “Matze was too busy folding Erik’s underwear.” They glare at him as the rest of the team giggles at the unexpected information.

“Alright, that’s enough, let’s leave them alone,” Miro interjects, saving the two youngsters from further embarrassment, and Erik smiles gratefully at him.

A few minutes later, Mats and Benni show up in the dining hall, their flushed faces and bright smiles providing a clear indication of what they had actually been doing on the beach. “Hi guys,” Mats says cheerfully. “Guess who we just ran into?”

“Oh, oh, I know! Pick me!” Thomas jumps out of his seat, waving his hand excitedly.

“You know you don’t have to raise your hand, right?” Julian says. “You’re literally the only person here who cares enough to actually volunteer to answer the question.”

“This is coming from you? Jule, you always raise your hand,” Thomas says. “Anyway, it was Lukas and Bastian, wasn’t it?” Without waiting for confirmation, he continues, “Of course it was, there’s no one else it could be. Guys, I’m gonna be so rich.”

“No way,” Toni scoffs. “You’re definitely going to lose to Jerome and me.”

“And to me,” Miro adds.

Thomas looks around in confusion. “Wait, I don’t even remember all the people I actually made bets with.”

“How could you forget?” Per asks, exasperated. “You’re the one who started this whole thing in the first place! We thought you were keeping track!”

“Per, it’s Mülli, of course he wasn’t keeping track,” Philipp sighs. “Manu, please tell me you at least know everyone’s bets.” Manuel shakes his head apologetically and Philipp sighs again.

“Don’t worry guys,” André says reassuringly. “I have all the bets organized. I even made a god darn chart.”

“Wait, hold on, what’s going on?” Roman suddenly asks with a bewildered expression on his face. “What are these bets? What is this ‘god darn chart?’”

Kevin is the first one to realize that Roman had never actually been informed about the bets. “Um, well, basically everyone made bets on if and when Lukas and Bastian will finally get together,” he says tentatively, unsure of how Roman will react.

Roman looks even more confused. “I’m really confused. They’re not together? I thought they were.”

The team members look at each other in amusement. “We know how you feel, don’t worry,” Ron-Robert says. “I’m pretty sure we’ve all thought that at one point or another.”

“Lukas just posted a picture with some cat,” Thomas announces. “Basti probably took the picture. Why can they not just do what like, Mats and Benni did and get over themselves?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say we got over ourselves,” Benni says. “We just stopped running away from something that was definitely going to happen anyway.” Mats smiles fondly at him and he beams back.

“I’m honestly going to barf. I can’t take another set of idiots in love,” Julian grumbles. “What the hell is wrong with this team? The next thing you know, they’ll be setting up candle-lit tables for two instead of actual team dining tables.”

“I hate candles,” Roman comments vaguely.

They all look at him. “Yes, thank you for that amazing insight, Roman,” André says, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, where are Lukas and Basti though? I told them not to be late again.” Philipp glances nervously at the clock. “We’re leaving in half an hour, they should be here by now.”

“Maybe they’re making out,” Shkodran says. “They might have lost track of time.”

“What we need are spies,” Thomas declares. His eyes immediately turn to Julian, Matze, and Erik, who try to shrink behind Mats and Benni.

“You are not going to use them as a part of your little scheme, Thomas,” Benni says warningly. “They told me what happened last time. A bush? Really, you made the three babies of the team hide in a bush for half an hour? Poor Matze can’t even look at bushes now without freaking out.”

The team watches in amusement as Thomas hangs his head in shame after being thoroughly scolded by Benni. Benni almost feels guilty when Thomas meekly says, “Sorry Benni.” Almost, but not quite.

Christoph takes pity on Thomas and offers, “I’ll help you, Thomas. And Manu will too, won’t you, Manu?”

“What? Oh, yeah, of course, that’s what soul brothers are for!” Manuel agrees enthusiastically.

“Please remember that we’re leaving in like, twenty minutes,” Philipp says, already knowing that it’s useless to try and stop them. “Make sure that you finish whatever nonsense you get up to by then.”

“Fips, I’m shocked, do you not trust us?” Thomas doesn’t wait for Philipp to answer. “Come on boys, we’ve got some spying to do.”

****

“Okay, I admit it, Catwoman is really adorable,” Bastian says as he pets the cat. “It’s too bad we’re leaving so soon.”

Lukas sits down next to Bastian, their knees touching, and watches as the cat purrs loudly and rubs its face against Bastian’s hand. “She likes you,” Lukas says with a laugh as Catwoman settles in Bastian’s lap for a nap. “I’ve tried so many times to get her to stay in one place and she never does. You’re just too likeable.” He smiles, still watching the cat (and Bastian smiles too, but he’s not looking at the cat). They sit contentedly and quietly, taking turns looking at each other when the other isn’t paying attention. Lukas notices how warm it suddenly seems, and while he tries to pass it off as Bastian’s “human heater” qualities, he can’t help but hope it’s something else.

A rustling sound from behind them shatters the moment. “Are you serious? Are there people in a bush again? This is like déjà vu. Can’t they at least be a little original?” Bastian sounds utterly exasperated. Catwoman jumps off his lap, disturbed by the sudden noise. “Julian, Matze, and Erik, we know you’re there. What does Thomas want this time?”

“Hey, why are you all blaming me?” Thomas asks indignantly as he, predictably, pops out from behind a bush.

“Um, maybe because you literally just came out from behind that bush?” Lukas says sarcastically. “At least you didn’t make the little ones do it this time. Did Benni yell at you?”

Thomas’ uncharacteristic silence gives them the answer. Manuel jumps up next to Thomas and sighs. “Benni’s like an overprotective mother. I swear, nobody can have any fun when he’s at it. He’s been like this since I was at Schalke.”

“Wow, Manu. You’re here too? I’m surprised because you’re a little more mature, but at the same time I’m also not even a little shocked. Who else is there?” Bastian’s bored expression doesn’t change as Christoph timidly stands up. “The soul brothers. How surprising. I should have guessed.”

“Sorry, Basti,” Christoph apologizes, looking genuinely upset. “We didn’t mean to ruin your moment, but Fips was getting anxious. We were supposed to tell you that we’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Bastian and Lukas look at each other, considering whether or not to ask why they were in the bush, but based on last time, they decide it’s better to just forget about it. “Let Fips know we’ll be there in 5 minutes.” Lukas gives the three soul brothers a look, clearly wanting to be left alone with Bastian.

“Oh, yeah, we’ll definitely let him know,” Thomas promises with an exaggerated (failed) wink. “Come on, Agents Duckie and Chris, we’re out!”

Bastian rolls his eyes when he hears Christoph ask Thomas why he didn’t get a cool nickname too as they walk away. When they’re out of earshot, Bastian turns to Lukas. “So why five minutes?”

“Well, um, look Basti, there’s something that I really need to tell you,” Lukas says, biting his lip nervously. “It’s kind of important and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, and I know this isn’t exactly the greatest timing with the final coming up and everything, but it’s just - I’m not really sure how to say it.”

“You can tell me anything, Luki. You know that.” Bastian forces the words out, his heart racing in anticipation. He’s not even sure what he’s anticipating, but the look in Lukas’ eyes makes him feel like he almost already knows what he’s about to say.

“I’ve been staying up all night thinking about how to say it. I was going to write it down at one point, but Per laughed at me. Oh my god, I’m rambling like an idiot.” Lukas laughs softly, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath to collect himself and continues, “So basically, Basti, what I want to tell you is I’m pretty much in -”

“What’s going on here?” a voice interrupts him just as he’s about to finally admit what he’s been holding in for so long. Lukas tries not to show how irritated and frustrated he is as he looks up to see Jogi peering at them curiously.

“We’re just talking. Wait, why are you out here? Were you running on the beach? The bus is leaving soon,” Bastian says, not really paying attention to his own words. He can barely hear Jogi’s answer over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Was Lukas really about to say what I think he was going to?

“Are you listening?” Jogi waves a hand in front of their faces. “I said that you two should go join the rest of the team. Tell Philipp that I’ll join everyone as soon as I take a sho- as soon as I can.”

Bastian nods vacantly, and Jogi gives them both a weird look before walking away. “I guess we should go,” Lukas says bitterly. He stands and offers Bastian a hand.

“But weren’t you going to tell me something?” Bastian makes a weak attempt to get Lukas to complete his earlier thought.

“It’s...it’s nothing, just forget about it,” Lukas says quietly. “We have more important things to worry about, like winning the World Cup. Come on, we should get there before Fips freaks out.” Bastian accepts the offered hand and tries to ignore the overwhelming feeling of disappointment settling in his mind.

****

July 11, 2014 - Rio de Janeiro

Manuel watches curiously as Thomas carefully separates his peas to the side of his plate. “What are you doing Mülli? Do you not like peas?”

Thomas sighs wistfully. “I like peas. I just can’t ever take peas seriously again.”

Julian hears this and looks at him with a puzzled expression on his face. “Is it even possible to take peas seriously?”

Thomas puts his fork down. “I take my peas extremely seriously, Julian.” He pauses and gazes dramatically into the distance. “Or at least I used to…”

Philipp, sitting across the table from Thomas, gives him a look. “Mülli, please, for the sake of everyone’s sanity, can you just eat your food normally?”

“I’ll eat my food, but I refuse to touch the peas. It’s just too emotional for me,” Thomas sniffs.

“I give up, honestly.” Philipp throws his hands in the air and allows Thomas to continue to segregate his peas from the rest of the dish.

****

Mats and Benni look up in surprise when Julian drops into the seat across from them. “I tried sitting with Thomas, but I can’t do it. He started rambling about peas. Peas. What does he even mean when he talks?”

“I’m pretty sure we all wonder that, Jule. But, uh, we were actually just about to go up to our room. Maybe you can join Matze and Erik.” Benni looks down sheepishly.

Julian rolls his eyes. “Typical.” But he waves them away, saying, “Go ahead, go make out or whatever, it’s fine.”

Mats grins, his arm snaking around Benni’s waist. “Well, I don’t think making out is all we’ll be doing, but -”

“Oh my god, just go!” Julian covers his ears as Mats and Benni walk away, laughing. “And don’t forget the final is literally in two days! Benni needs to be able to walk!” he calls after them.

****

“You two are my last hope of a half-sane last supper,” Julian grumbles as he settles down next to Erik and Matze.

“The Last Supper? Oh no, I hope there won’t be any betrayals here,” Erik says worriedly.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned, Erik,” Matze says reassuringly, glaring at Julian to prevent him from making any snarky comments.

“So Thomas is talking about peas, Mats and Benni are doing, well, whatever they do, what are you two up to? Entertain me.” Julian leans back and takes a bite out of his apple.

“Um, we’re eating? Is there something else we should be doing?” Matze asks.

“If you want us to like, sing or something, I’m not doing it,” Erik says. “I’m nowhere near as good as Christoph.”

“Christoph was average,” Julian says, slightly confused.

“Exactly.” Erik shrugs like his point is proven with that simple phrase.

“I think you have a nice voice,” Matze tells him, and Erik smiles back. “It’s not great, but I like it when you sing.”

“That’s nice,” Julian says. “You two are cute. Gross, but cute. Really, I’m not being an asshole, but when are you guys going to admit this to yourselves? Or preferably, to each other?”

“Shut up, Jule,” Matze groans, his face bright red. Erik immediately shifts away so their legs are no longer touching and looks out the window.

“Just trying to help,” Julian mutters. He drops it, but not before he catches Matze’s eye and mouths, “We’re talking about this later.” Matze looks wide-eyed and scared, but he nods slightly. “So, are you guys planning to do anything special before the big day?”

Erik and Matze sigh in relief at the change of topic. “Well, I definitely want to watch the third place match. It should be interesting,” Erik says excitedly. “And obviously we have training, but other than that, I don’t really have plans.”

“We should watch the match together,” Julian says. “After training the three of us can just hang out, it’ll be fun.”

“Isn’t Lena dropping by tomorrow? I know Miro’s kids are coming,” Erik suddenly remembers. “Actually, aren’t most of the families and girlfriends coming?”

“I’m really not sure, Erik. Why don’t you go ask?” Julian takes the opportunity to try to get Erik to leave for a moment so he can talk to Matze alone. Erik obliges and walks off to find Miro so he can ask. Julian turns to Matze and looks at him seriously. “So, what’s the deal with you and Erik, huh?”

Matze sighs and buries his face in his hands. “I really like him, okay? You’re right about that.”

“He clearly likes you too, so what’s the problem?” Julian asks.

“I don’t know. I’m just scared because it’s Erik. He’s my best friend and we’re going to be on the same team for the next ten years. Plus, I might actually be signing with BVB soon. We’re so young and, just, what if something goes wrong and then it’s weird for the rest of the time?” Matze mumbles.

“Look, those are real concerns, but it can go both ways, you know. Just think about Lukas and Bastian, look at how long it’s taken them. Do you really want to end up like that?” Julian asks. “Nobody is gonna force you to do anything, but just think about it.”

“And Erik has never had a boyfriend,” Matze whispers so quietly that Julian barely catches it.

“Please, that's not even an issue,” Julian says. “Benni never had a boyfriend either, and look at how that worked out.”

“But it’s Erik!” Matze desperately tries to find the right words to explain the problem. “The boy wears a purity ring, for crying out loud. He’s thinking about getting Jesus tattooed on himself.”

Julian makes an O shape with his mouth, finally understanding why Matze is so scared. “Okay, I see why that could be problematic. But at the same time, Matze, honestly, I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I really don’t think it’s as big of a deal as you think it is. I think what you two need to do is just chill.”

“I don’t know how to ‘just chill,’ Jule,” Matze says with a heavy sigh.

“If you really want to chill, why don’t you open up a window or something.” Roman interrupts their conversation with one of his trademark weird statements. He doesn’t even sound sarcastic, though; he seems perfectly serious. They stare at him for a moment before glancing at each other and bursting into laughter.

****

July 12, 2014 - Rio de Janeiro

“Basti, wake up!” Lukas says way too cheerfully.

“Why?” Bastian groans. “It’s too early, Luki.”

“It’s the day before the final. This is our last breakfast before training, then our last morning training session, then our last lunch after training, then our last afternoon training, then -” Lukas rattles off enthusiastically.

“I get it, Luki. But what does that have to do with waking me up at 6 am?” Bastian squints at the clock before flopping back onto his pillow.

“We gotta seize the day! So much to do!” Lukas throws the covers off Bastian. “I want to sneak out to the beach. It’s a good ten minute walk from here. Come on, Basti. One last look at the Brazilian sunrise.”

Bastian makes the mistake of looking at Lukas just as he says it, and he immediately melts at the expression on Lukas’ face. “Remember when I was the one dragging you out of bed all those years ago?”

Lukas grins. “Of course I remember. Those were some good days.” He pulls the pillow out from under Bastian’s head. “But these are gonna be even better!”

“The things I do for you,” Bastian grumbles as he sits up. He rubs his eyes and stretches his back before standing up. “Just let me get dressed, I’ll be ready in a minute.

True to his word, he’s ready to go in record time, and they head down to the beach together. The awkwardness from yesterday has luckily all but disappeared, with neither of them really wanting to linger on it.

“So is Louis going to come today? I miss little Poldi.” Bastian smiles at the thought of Lukas’ son, and Lukas’ heart hurts a little.

“Louis misses his Uncle Basti too. I actually was talking to him yesterday, he wanted to talk to me before he got on the plane. He wouldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to come here and see you. Sometimes I think he loves you more than me,” Lukas says with a laugh.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, he adores you. You’re a surprisingly good father,” Bastian says.

“Surprisingly good father? I always thought I was good with kids,” Lukas says, pouting exaggeratedly.

“That’s because you’re just a giant kid yourself,” Bastian teases.

“That’s why Monika is around. She makes both of us behave,” Lukas says.

Bastian bites his lip. “Is she coming with Louis?”

“Yeah. Is Sarah flying over?” Lukas asks.

“Yup, I think she actually said something about being on the same flight as Monika. I guess we’ll see.”

Lukas smiles. “Imagine Sarah and Monika on the same flight. God, nobody’s going to be able to sleep. Monika is usually quiet, but put her next to Sarah and it’s non-stop laughing for the next two hours.”

“It’ll be nice for all of us to be together,” Bastian says. “It hardly ever happens.”

“We’re hardly ever together, let alone the entire family. A few times a year really isn’t enough,” Lukas agrees.

“We’ll just have to make the most of it, then,” Bastian says, grinning. They spend the rest of their walk admiring the Brazilian sunrise for the last time with Lukas’ arm draped across Bastian’s shoulders and their toes digging into the soft white sand.

****

“Basti, could you come out here for a moment?” Lukas calls from the balcony.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there!” Bastian says. “Just let me charge my phone.”

“I swear you’re addicted to that thing,” Lukas says, and Bastian can practically hear the grin he definitely has on his face.

“Says the man who posts non-stop on Instagram. Do you want me to take another picture?” Bastian walks out onto the balcony.

“Actually, I need you for a video. Can you get my camera? It’s on our - the bed.”

“I just walked out here. You could have asked me before I wasted all this extra energy,” Bastian complains playfully.

Just as he’s about to go back inside, they hear the door of their room open. “Oh my god, Basti, did you forget to properly close the door again?” Lukas asks.

Before Bastian can answer, Christoph’s blonde head pokes into their room. “Lukas? Basti?”

“Hi Christoph, we’re out here!” Bastian waves at him through the glass door. “Would you mind picking up the camera on your way out?”

Christoph steps outside a moment later, clutching the camera in his hands. “Hey guys,” he says, almost shyly.

“What’s up, Christoph? Why aren’t you hanging out with Manu and Thomas?” Lukas seems to realize that the way he said it might have sounded a little rude, so he hastily adds, “I mean, you’re always with them.”

Christoph shuffles his feet a little, staring at the ground. “Well, I, um, I just wanted to apologize. You know, again. For spying on you in the bush. And Thomas and Manu are sorry too.”

Lukas and Bastian share a smile. “It’s alright, Christoph. Apology accepted. While you’re here, do you think you could do us a quick favor?”

Christoph’s bright blue eyes light up. “Yeah! Whatever you guys want.”

“It won’t take too long, we just want to film a really short video,” Lukas says.

“We do?” Bastian raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

“It’s a greeting video for the final, but it’s also about Köln’s basketball team,” Lukas says cheerfully. “You can talk about Bayern’s team if you want. Just follow my lead.” He takes a moment to show Christoph how to work the camera. “You got it Chris?”

“Yup. Are you two ready?” Christoph focuses the camera, his finger hovering over the ‘record’ button.

“Does my hair look okay?” Bastian asks jokingly.

“Basti, you look great, come on already,” Lukas says. “You always look great.” And before Bastian has a chance to process that statement, Lukas signals for Christoph to start recording.

****

“Manu, you have got to see this,” Thomas declares, and he says it so solemnly that Manuel thinks that it might actually be something serious.

“What happened?” Manuel leans over to look at the phone screen. Lukas and Bastian’s faces are grinning up at him. “Actually, I don’t know what I expected. Well, go on, play it.”

By the time they’re approximately seven seconds in, they’re both in disbelief. “Basti can't keep his eyes off him! Who do they think they’re fooling?”

“Who even took the video?” Thomas asks.

Christoph chooses this moment to appear at the door, a small smile on his face. “You’re welcome.”

“Chris! You’re a dream!” Thomas exclaims, leaping up to engulf Christoph in a hug.

“A true soul brother,” Manuel agrees, joining the hug. Christoph just lets out a pleased little sound and allows his friends to smother him with love.

****

Promptly after lunch, the families of the players start pouring into the hotel lobby. There’s laughter, hugging, kissing, and happiness leaking out of every corner of the room.

“Lena!” Julian wraps his arms around a beautiful brunette, burying his face in her hair. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Lena grins and hugs him back. “I’ve missed you too. It’s so weird not hearing you complain every day. Speaking of which, is Benni still doing the pining thing?”

“Luckily for everyone, that’s no longer a problem.” Julian gestures to where Mats and Benni are curled up next to each other on a couch.

“Aw, that’s great! They look so sweet together. I think this calls for a celebration.” Lena waves at the couple and walks over to congratulate them, dragging Julian with her.

****

“Lisa isn’t here?” Sarah leaves Bastian’s side when she notices Thomas sitting alone. He’s been unusually quiet, looking deep in thought, and Sarah’s been around long enough to know it can only mean one thing: trouble.

“Lisa wanted to stay with the horses. She’s got a big competition coming up to prepare for,” Thomas says. His answer is short, to the point, confirming Sarah’s suspicions.

“Alright, Mülli, what’s up? What are you scheming this time?” She settles down next to Thomas, earning a questioning glance from Bastian. He’s about to walk over when he hears a familiar voice shout his name with excitement. Soon enough, Louis, Lukas, and Bastian are too distracted to notice anything else going on in the room.

“Mind if I join?” Monika takes the seat across from Sarah and Thomas.

Thomas shifts in his seat, suddenly feeling like he’s missing out on a joke. The two women only smile wider when they sense Thomas’ confusion.

“Now that we have Monika here, why don’t you tell us what elaborate plans you’ve come up with. They better be good. You have a lot of money on the line.” Sarah tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and looks at Thomas, his eyes wide with surprise.

“I believe Queen Sarah has just made Thomas Müller speechless,” Monika says, laughing softly.

“But,” Thomas says, bewildered, “what? You know what’s going on? And you’re okay with it? How could you even know?”

“Thomas, we’ve lived with these idiots long enough to know what’s going on there.” Sarah rolls her eyes exasperatedly, thinking about how obvious and transparent Lukas and Bastian are when it comes to their feelings for each other.

Monika nods. “I mean it was hard at first, but we’ve come to terms with it. Love isn’t something you can control. I know Lukas still loves me in his own way, but what he has with Basti - It’s kind of an ongoing joke at this point.”

A slow smile spreads across Thomas’ face as he realizes what this means. “You’re telling me that you’re okay with this and that I have your blessings?”

“Yes,” Monika and Sarah say in unison.

Thomas thinks quietly for a few seconds. “So,” he finally says, “how would you two like to be secret agents?”

****

July 13, 2014 - Rio de Janeiro

The morning of the final, Bastian wakes with a start. He looks around the room to find that Lukas is nowhere to be seen and his first thought is that he has overslept. Oh my god, I’ve missed the World Cup final, he thinks in a panic. A moment later, Lukas strolls inside the room with a bright smile on his face and Bastian relaxes.

“Morning sleepyhead. I don’t know how you do it. I could barely sleep, I’m so excited.” He certainly seems excited, if the expression on his face and constant fidgeting is anything to go by. “I need to do something, like go for a run or play basketball. I haven’t been able to sit still.”

“Well, I can see that,” Bastian says with a teasing smirk. “Just let me get ready, we can probably fit in a game or two of basketball before breakfast.”

“Wear the Brazil jersey I bought you. For good luck.” Lukas looks so earnest, and honestly, who is Bastian to deprive him of any happiness whatsoever?

He throws the jersey on and picks out some blue shorts for good measure. “Come on, let’s see if we can find a couple more people to join us,” Bastian suggests.

“Our teammates?” Lukas asks.

“No, no, maybe people who are a little more sane,” Bastian says with a laugh. “There are plenty of people who are part of the tactical team, I’m sure we can find someone.”

****

Sarah wakes up to the sound of her cellphone buzzing. At first she thinks it might be Bastian, but when she checks, a picture of a horse is filling the screen. “Hi Thomas, what’s up?”

“Check Facebook. You have a Facebook, right?” Thomas’ voice comes loudly through the speaker and Sarah holds the phone slightly away from her ear.

“Not an official account, but I have Basti’s passwords. What do you want me to be looking for?” Sarah quickly logs in to Bastian’s Facebook.

“He just posted a picture. Actually, it’s on Twitter too. They were playing basketball together. Basketball. On the day of the final, no less.” Thomas sounds both repulsed and awestruck.

“Why does this still surprise you, Thomas?” Sarah sighs and takes a look at the picture. “I think you of all people would be interested to know that Lukas bought him that jersey. I swear, Lukas is so in love with Brazil.”

“That’s not the only thing he’s in love with,” Thomas says, and Sarah just knows he’s smirking. “I just hope, for the sake of all of us, that he can actually let Basti know that.”

“Don’t worry, Monika and I are working on that. Give us a month.” With that, Sarah hangs up and starts to get dressed. They’ve all got a big day ahead of them.

Chapter Text

July 13, 2014 - Match vs Argentina; Estádio do Maracanã, Rio de Janeiro

Christoph

“Kramer!”

Christoph whips around to see Sami limping off the pitch and Jogi frantically gesturing at him. His heart is racing as he walks over to Jogi. “Yes, Coach?” he asks nervously.

“Khedira has unfortunately just suffered an injury that will, um, prevent him from being very useful in today’s match,” Jogi begins. Christoph’s pulse quickens even more and his eyes widen. “It is rather unfortunate for us, but for you, it is an opportunity as golden as the World Cup trophy itself. Literally, because we're actually playing for the trophy. Get it?”

“You’re saying - you mean -” Christoph stammers, hardly daring to believe his ears, completely missing Jogi’s attempt at a joke.

“That’s right, kid,” Jogi says. “Go get warmed up properly. You’re going to be playing in the World Cup final.”

Christoph is still in a daze as he joins the warm up. Everyone throws him fond smiles and a few congratulatory words when they realize why he has joined them.

“Hey, Chris, are you starting?” Thomas calls cheerfully. Christoph can't do much more than nod numbly in his friend’s direction. “Awesome! I know you're gonna make us proud, buddy! Manu is going to want to know. Hey, Manu!” He waves excitedly at the goalkeeper until he jogs over from the goal.

“What’s up?” Manuel asks before spotting Christoph standing a few feet away. “Oh hey, Christoph. Wait.” He pauses as realization dawns on him. “Oh my god. YOU’RE STARTING?” Before Christoph can respond, Manuel has him in a bear hug. “God, we’re so proud of you!”

Christoph is blushing from the attention. When Manuel finally releases him, a thought dawns on him, replacing his smile with a guilty frown. “I feel so bad for Sami though.”

“We all do,” Manuel says sympathetically. “But the soul brothers on the pitch together? We’re going to wreak havoc!”

“Let’s do this!” Thomas exclaims emphatically, high-fiving them both.

****

Hansi

The team is gathered in the locker room, creating a circle of anxious bodies in the middle. The room is deathly silent, and the tension is building. Hansi looks around at the anxious faces and knows that the speeches should be kept brief. Reaching into his pocket, he makes his way over to Jogi.

“Hello Hansi,” Jogi says, possibly more calmly than Hansi has ever heard.

“Hey Jogi. Are you ready?” Hansi asks, only because he already knows the answer.

“We’ve been preparing for this since day one. If we’re not ready now, we never will be,” Jogi says solemnly.

Hansi smiles, realizing that it’s moments like these that make Jogi one of the best coaches in the world. Sometimes his seriousness is unsettling, even humorous, but with emotions running high, this is exactly what any team needs: an anchor.

“Well, prepared as you may be for the match, I assumed that you wouldn't be as ready for the speech today,” Hansi says, grinning slightly. “So I took the liberty of writing one for you.”

Jogi squints at the paper, mouthing the words silently as he reads the speech Hansi had so carefully written as they progressed through the tournament. “This is - how did you manage to write this so well? It’s better than the one I had.”

“With all due respect, Jogi, it’s not hard to write one better than yours,” Hansi says with a laugh, knowing he’s one of the few people who can poke fun at Jogi without serious repercussions. “And I’ve been working on this speech since day one. It had better be damn good.”

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, then,” Jogi says.

Hansi groans. “Please stick to the script, Jogi.”

~ ~ ~

“This is it. This is the final.” Jogi doesn’t have to raise his voice by much to cut through the anxious murmuring. “Here, at the end, I feel that it’s fitting for me to bring us back to my first words to you in the beginning of the tournament. We are the German machine. We’ve shown the world that we do, in fact, have the perfect parts to operate the machine to its highest potential. Each one of you, the ones that have played every minute and the ones that haven’t played any minutes at all, each one of you is exactly what this machine needs. Today, more than any other day, we need every piece to work together. I need our technique to be as flawless as a machine. We can not afford mistakes.”

Jogi stops to look at the players surrounding him, hanging on to his every word. Even Thomas is silent and attentive.

"It's been a long ride, and I know that even the best machine can start to rust. So it’s also my job to remind you that you are more than just a machine. Sami. Marco. The Bender twins. Mario Gomez. Holger. Let them remind you that this machine has a heart. This machine bleeds. This machine loves. This machine dreams.”

The team is staring at Jogi in awe, and Hansi feels a surge of pride and affection towards all of them.

“We had a dream. It started back in the day. Miro, Philipp, Bastian, Lukas, and Per probably know this the best. Unfortunately, the dream was never reached. It was the wrong time, wrong place, with the wrong parts. But I am telling you that this, today, here in the Maracanã, it is the right time, in the right place, with the right parts, the right people. Today, we are going to go out there and we are going to win this thing.”

****

Golden Generation

Lukas feels like throwing up. He’s not even going to play, yet he can still feel the bile rising in his throat. Bastian takes one look at him and immediately knows. He cups Lukas’ face in his hands the way he did the last time Lukas felt the overwhelming need to vomit. (He knows the missed penalty in 2010 still haunts Lukas’ dreams sometimes.) “Hey Luki.” Bastian’s voice is gentle and his hands are warm, but not sweaty the way Lukas knows his own are. “I want you to look at me.” Lukas looks up and meets Bastian’s gaze. “Breathe with me. You’re going to be fine. We are going to be fine.”

Lukas lets out a shaky breath and smiles weakly. “I know I’m being stupid. I’m not even playing, you are, and you’re still the one comforting me.”

“Hey you two, it’s almost time.” Philipp looks apologetic for interrupting the moment between his friends.

Per walks over and places a comforting hand on Lukas’ shoulder. “Watching the game is probably even more stressful than playing, but we’ll watch it together. Everything will be fine.”

Bastian looks at his three oldest friends and smiles, trying desperately to keep calm. “Well, here we are. The Golden Generation. One last shot at it.”

“Don’t get all emotional on us now, Basti,” Philipp teases lightly. “Save that for the end.”

The Argentines start to file into the tunnel and Per gives Lukas’ shoulder a squeeze. “Come on. We should get going.”

Lukas hugs Philipp and then Bastian. “Good luck, meine Hase,” he whispers, lingering longer than is strictly necessary. “Win this for us. Win this for Germany.” Win this for me. He doesn’t say it out loud, but somehow Bastian knows, and he lines up in the tunnel feeling more determined than he ever has before.

****

Julian, Matthias, and Erik

“Erik, I swear to god if your knee does not stop shaking, I will move,” Julian says threateningly.

“Relax Jule, he can’t help it,” Matze says in defense of Erik. “He’s just really nervous.”

“I know he’s nervous, and he’s making me nervous too because his damn leg keeps shaking.”

“Jule, remember what Mats and Benni told us? It’s okay to be nervous,” Erik reminds him. “This is our first World Cup final ever. We’re probably not gonna play, but if we win today, we’re gonna go down in history as being part of the squad that won the 4th World Cup for Germany. And we’re, what, 20 years old? Of course it’s okay for us to be nervous.”

“You’re 22, Erik. Matze and I are 20. Get your facts straight.”

“I’ve discovered something,” Matze says. “Erik shakes his leg when he’s nervous and Julian turns into the grumpy cat when he’s nervous.”

“Okay, and when Matze’s nervous, he starts making creepy observations,” Julian says.

Matze grins. “I rest my case.”

“Shush guys, the anthems are about to start.” Erik abruptly ends the conversation.

Julian spots Kevin wandering about in confusion, looking for an empty seat. “Guys, slide down a seat,” he hisses. “Quick, Kevin needs a place to sit!” They all slide down, but before Julian gets the chance to follow them, the anthem starts and Kevin places himself between Erik and Julian.

Julian shrugs and throws an arm around Kevin as the rest of the bench does the same with the people they are standing next to as they prepare to sing the national anthem.

Erik grins at Matze when the first notes blare through the Maracanã’s speakers. Singing the anthem has always been Erik’s favorite part of games. The Germans sing their hearts out and even with the fans screaming the words, Matze can still pick up Erik’s soft voice, filled with pride and determination and belief in their team. As the anthem comes to an end, Matze decides that listening to Erik sing the anthem is his new favorite part of matches.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Erik asks, looking puzzled.

“What? I’m not - I just - no reason,” Matze stammers, blushing.

Kevin groans and turns to Julian. “They’re almost worse than Lukas and Bastian. Almost. It’s like Mats and Benni before they got together all over again.”

“I’m glad you realize. I also hope you realize you’re staying here because I can’t deal with Erik’s leg today.” Julian pulls Kevin into the seat next to him.

“Great,” Kevin mutters. “I’m looking forward to this. I swear, we better win this thing.”

****

Jerome

The match begins and Jerome immediately begins to worry. Every sloppy pass, every missed opportunity, makes his heart rate spike with anxiety. Two minutes in and Jerome watches Thomas fall to the ground and win a free kick. Come on Toni, come on, get it to one of us. Shit. Jerome scrambles back as the ball bounces off the wall. He can see Mats chasing Lavezzi, trying to block the angle, but Lavezzi somehow manages to get the ball to Higuain, and then it’s just Jerome between him and Manuel. When the ball rolls harmlessly past the goal and out of play, Jerome lets out a deep sigh of relief.

Minutes later, Mesut and Thomas piece together a decent move that ultimately comes to nothing. Jerome feels himself settling into a nice pace as Germany enjoys possession and it’s almost calm for a moment. Almost. Suddenly, Messi is flying past him, and the only thing Jerome can think about is the stupid catchphrase Thomas and Manuel have been using nonstop for days: #stopMessi2k14. In the end, though, no one needs to stop Messi because he messes himself up. How messy of him. Jerome almost laughs, and then hates himself for coming up with that in the first place. Focus, Jerome, get it together. This is the freaking World Cup final.

Argentina once again gets a dangerous cross into the area, but fortunately for the Germans, no one is able to follow through, and they’re safe once again. Jerome watches as Benni makes a truly courageous save by sliding his body in front of the ball just a few minutes after. A little time after that, he can hear himself gasping with the crowd when Miro just misses Philipp’s cross. And then, just a short while later, Bastian blasts a lovely cross into the box, but no one is there to direct it into the net. This goddamn sport never fails to give me a heart attack.

****

Manuel

Jerome to Philipp to Miro. Manuel watches them press up the field just to have the ball bounce out of play, but it’s a Germany throw-in and Miro quickly throws it to Christoph. He’s on the complete opposite end of the pitch, but Manuel knows immediately that there’s something wrong when Christoph goes down and doesn’t immediately get up. Christoph is too honest, and frankly too excited, to stay down unless it’s something serious. As if to prove his point, Christoph struggles to stand up, only to fall back on the ground, clutching his head. Nobody seems to notice, which makes Manuel wish, not for the first time, that he could leave the goal and be out on the field. Finally, the officials realize something is up and the trainers run onto the field.

They let Christoph jog on the sidelines, with nobody from the bench showing any signs of warming up, despite the fact that he’s very clearly not okay. Manuel feels so helpless, stuck in the goal on the wrong side of the field. His instincts are screaming NO when he sees Christoph jogging back onto the field. Why does no one else realize how wrong this is? Maybe it’s the soul brother connection, or maybe it’s because even he, the guy with the nerves of steel, is anxious about this, but Manuel feels his stomach twist in knots as he nervously watches his friend run around the field.

****

Toni

The stats say it all: 91.2% passing accuracy, 86 passes per game, 14 chances created, 2 goals, 3 assists. Toni has known from the start of this match that it’s going to be tough to live up to his previous performances, especially the one against Brazil. Two goals and Man of the Match against the host nation of a World Cup in the semifinals? It seems ridiculous. And it’s also ridiculously difficult to surpass.

Toni suspected his performance might not be up to par today, but he also never thought it would be this bad. He’s hit the wall, kicked in corner kicks that have gone to no one, and just generally not been as good as he knows he can be. Even then, he could never have predicted this. The ball seems to float down and for some reason, Toni finds himself jumping up to meet it with his head. Before anything even happens, he knows he has completely messed up and he screams the loudest internal fuck that’s ever been internally screamed.

Time goes in slow-motion as Higuain receives the ball and has only Manuel to beat. Argentina is literally seconds away from scoring, and Toni knows it's completely his fault. He closes his eyes because he can’t watch, not this, not when he's just let down his country in the biggest match of his life.

But the roar of ecstasy he’s expecting from the Argentine fans never comes. Toni hardly dares to believe it, but when he finally opens his eyes, he sees Higuain and every other player clad in blue in a state in disbelief, and the Germans with expressions ranging from utterly relieved to extremely grateful. Mesut even gives a little motion to the heavens, thanking his god for what can only be described as divine intervention.

****

Benedikt

Benedikt has never considered himself to be devoutly religious, at least not like Erik, but Higuain’s miss has him believing for a moment. Clearly, the heavens want him to become a believer, if the amount of stress this match is putting him through is any indication. Philipp provides Thomas and Miro with a cross that they don’t manage to do anything with, then Mesut gets it into the box to no avail, and then Bastian sends the ball in, but Miro can’t quite reach it. Benni feels himself tensing up when Bastian goes in for a tackle and comes out with a yellow card to his name.

Suddenly, and it’s honestly an uncomfortably short time after Higuain’s miss, Benni is running down the wing, desperately trying to cut off Messi’s pass to Lavezzi. But it’s too late. Benni already knows the ball is going to pass him, and he silently begs Mats to be there backing him up. He has never doubted Mats’ abilities before, he can’t remember a time when he hasn’t implicitly trusted Mats, but this is a World Cup final, after all, and this could end in a devastating way if Mats isn’t on top of his game. Benni curses himself a second later for not marking Lavezzi properly, for putting Mats in that kind of position in the first place. He can’t do anything but watch as the ball sails past him, past Mats, right to Higuain’s feet, and there’s no way he’s going to miss this time.

The ball is in the back of the net, and Benni almost wants to die on the spot until he notices that the flag is up. God truly must exist, Benni thinks numbly. He briefly catches Mats’ eye as they reset and he can immediately tell that Mats had not set the offside trap on purpose. Benni knows him almost better than he knows himself, and he can see that Mats is deeply relieved at how fortunate they’ve just gotten, that he would have blamed himself if the goal had counted. It wasn’t your fault, Benni tries to tell him with his eyes. It was mine.

He looks away from Mats a moment later (because the last thing they need is to be distracted by each other during the match) to see that Christoph is being helped off the field and subbed off for André. Benni glances back at Manuel and finds that the keeper looks worried but relieved, which is the way Benni thinks everyone else on the team feels too.

****

Mesut

The relief of yet another wasted Argentine opportunity doesn’t last long. Mesut groans when Benni slides in front of Zabaleta with his foot too high, studs up. It could easily have been a red, so Mesut is glad to see that Benni doesn’t even complain and quietly accepts the yellow. There is seemingly no end to the sources of Mesut’s frustration when the ball escapes German possession and is quickly brought down the field by Messi.

For a moment, Mesut thinks it’s truly going to be a goal this time. But somehow, Bastian gets a touch on the ball, spinning it away from a wide-open Higuain and Mesut finds himself thanking the heavens for the fifth time (or sixth? He lost track a long time ago). Not even ten minutes later, Messi is in front of the goal again and Mesut finds himself silently cursing the man, mouthing some old Spanish swears he learned back when he played in a different white shirt.

After 42 minutes of running back and forth Mesut finally sees a chance. He sprints down the center, following Thomas’ run down the side and collects the ball at his feet. Much to his frustration, defenders seem to pop up around him from nowhere. Damn it. Somehow, he finds a way to thread the ball back to Toni, but he knows the chance is gone.

****

Mats

Mats can hear Benni taking a few deep breaths as they make their way down the field for the corner. He wants to be able to reassure him, to give him more than just a nod and a smile, but he can’t, not here, not now. Toni hits the first cross and a defender hacks the ball away before Mats can get to it.

The second cross is gorgeous, finally one with Toni’s usual accuracy. Mats watches as Benni jumps forward to meet it. Goal, goal, please, for him, for us, for Germany, Mats begs silently. The ball seems to head in the right direction and Mats is ready to jump into Benni’s arms in celebration.

But apparently the football gods have other ideas about how this match is going to go. The ball hits the post and the offsides flag flies up. Mats almost feels like crying. He looks over to see Benni’s eyes widen in disbelief and frustration, and he wants to be able to go over and comfort him. But Benni avoids making eye contact and they finish the remaining seconds of the first half in silence.

****

Jogi

The players file into the locker room looking slightly dejected. Jogi sees Lukas quietly talking to Bastian, sees Mats putting a comforting arm around Benni and whispering soothingly to him, sees Thomas and Manuel casting worried glances towards the medical room, and he understands why Hansi had written a speech that was so insistent that they aren’t just a machine. He tries to formulate another speech in his head, but he can’t seem to find the right words.

“So,” he begins, still trying to figure out what he’s going to say. “Perhaps another coach would tell you to forget about the three almost-goals, but I’m not going to do that. I want you to play the second half as if we’re down by two, three goals. The machine works fine, it just needs more fuel, something to keep it going even more efficiently than it is now. I need the defense to be tighter, they’re slipping more passes through the back four than I’m comfortable with. And I need the attackers to go, 1000%, because we’re getting the crosses and we’re not getting the finishes.”

The team nods, all of them aware of their mistakes. Jogi stops for a moment to think. When he opens his mouth again, his tone is softer, less commanding and more gentle. “I know it’s tough. This is probably going to be the toughest match of your lives. Unless you get to another World Cup final. But anyway, think about this. Germany, your country, is relying on you. We’ve gotten so close and fallen short one too many times. Don’t you want to fix that record?”

****

Thomas

Thomas has never been as fast or strong as his peers, and he definitely doesn’t have the dramatic flare that Messi and Ronaldo possess, yet somehow he’s two goals away from another Golden Boot. But Thomas doesn’t think about that particular trophy. Instead, he toils away on the field, trying to find spaces, trying to set his teammates up. There’s another trophy, more precious and more valuable, that he’s got his sights set on.

I hate running, Thomas thinks to himself as he chases after the ball from André, and manages to flash it across the net. Ugh, why can’t any of us get the stupid ball into the goal? Argentina has the ball once again and Thomas holds his breath as they rush towards Manuel. He has complete faith in his soul brother’s abilities, but still, stranger things have happened. Zabaleta crosses the ball for Higuain and Manuel sprints out of his box. Thomas almost wants to laugh as he watches Manuel execute an almost ninja-like jump to punch the ball away. Typical Manu, he thinks fondly. What a guy. It takes all of Thomas’ self control to not burst out laughing as Higuain jumps up to protest, only to be ignored. He truly believes he will lose his shit when Higuain falls back down and Manuel walks over to awkwardly pat his arm, but a glare from Philipp keeps him quiet.

****

Miroslav

For what feels like the first time in his life, Miro feels unsure of how this match is going to end. Usually, he gets a feeling, a faint idea of what the final result will be. But today, he has nothing. The clock is getting closer and closer to 90 minutes, and all Miro really feels sure about is that he isn’t going to play for the whole match. Miro knows he missed a few good chances, a header in the 59th minute that could have been the goal. But the real chances, the ones that will find the back of the net eventually, have been coming from the young players.

Miro glances at the bench, and upon catching Mario’s eye, a sudden wave of realization washes over him. It’s him. He’s going to be the one. Miro feels better once that feeling of knowing settles on him and if anything, he plays harder, giving everything he has to build the momentum, momentum that Mario can use later.

Miro feels nothing but anticipation when he sees that he is being subbed off for none other than Mario with four minutes left until extra time. He shakes the referee’s hand and walks off the field to the sound of the fans cheering, meeting Mario at the sideline. Mario is doing a few jumps, readying himself for the biggest game of his life. Miro can see the anxiety and excitement in the young boy’s eyes and he knows that Mario needs to hear it. He brings their foreheads together and tells him, “You can make it happen.” In that brief moment, Miro sees the anxiety turn into determination and he knows that it’s going to be enough. Come on Mario. You are the golden boy.

****

Kevin

Kevin grabs the water bottles and rushes to the tired, sweaty players coming off the field. Bastian and Philipp gratefully accept the water. For a moment, Kevin forgets his own selfish ambitions of wanting to play in the World Cup final, forgets his slight bitterness at not being given a chance to play a single match in this tournament, and offers words of encouragement to the team. It doesn’t matter who plays and who doesn’t, we win as a team, don’t we?

****

Ron-Robert and Roman

Being a goalkeeper is always difficult. It’s a constant and often unrewarding struggle for that single spot on the squad. Despite the competitive spirit, Ron-Robert and Roman find themselves walking up to Manuel. Roman awkwardly coughs to get Manuel’s attention. “Hey guys, what's up?” Manuel asks casually, like they aren't in the middle of the biggest match of their lives.

“We just wanted to say good luck, you can do this, and all that,” Ron-Robert says. Roman nods, but doesn’t say anything. “Even if this goes to a penalty shootout, we know it’ll be fine. We have the best keeper in the world. If the sweeper-keeper can’t do it, I don’t know who else can.”

****

Sami

Getting injured is never an ideal situation. But getting injured literally moments before playing in a World Cup final is probably one of the least desirable situations to be in ever. Sami wants more than anything to be on the pitch, to make a difference in the final moments of the game, but he can’t. He has practically just healed from an injury, only to get hurt again. But, he thinks, it won’t matter if we win this thing. Because in the end, Germany always comes first.

****

Shkodran

Shkodran always has a song stuck in his head. He used to get in trouble in school for humming melodies and drumming with his pencil in the middle of class. “He’s restless,” his teachers would say. So his parents put him on a football team, hoping to leave the extra energy on the pitch. Not much has changed since then. Shkodran settles back onto the bench as the whistle blows for extra time to start. His fingers are tapping out a beat as he watches the team launch into action. Today’s song? We Are the Champions.

****

Lukas

Sitting calmly while watching a football match has never been Lukas’ strong suit. In many ways, he’s like any other fan, cheering on his team. He’s screaming along with the crowd when André nearly scores in the opening minutes of extra time and sighing in relief when Palacio misses yet another golden opportunity for Argentina to take the lead.

Perhaps the worst part of watching from the sidelines is seeing Bastian being fouled left and right, and not being able to do anything about it. The look of pain on Bastian’s face as he lands on his knee almost has Lukas running onto the field, with only Per restraining him. “It’s his bad knee and he’s still not fully recovered. They can’t just pull him down like that!” Logically, he knows it’s all part of the game, but every time he sees Bastian get hit, it’s like he’s getting hurt himself.

When the first period of extra time ends, Lukas runs up to Bastian. “Are you okay?”

Bastian nods, but grimaces as he stretches his leg. “I’ll be fine, Luki. Don’t worry about me.”

“Just - just be careful.” Lukas helps Bastian up and for a moment they just stand there looking at each other, lost in their own little world.

Philipp taps Bastian’s shoulder, breaking the silence as he motions for them to join the team huddle. After a short cheer, Bastian jogs back onto the field and Lukas returns to the bench. Come on, Basti. Win this thing.

****

André

It’s getting annoying, the starting and stopping. They’re barely five minutes into the second period, and Bastian has already gone down twice, followed by another collision between Thomas and a defender. André wishes they could just play. He looks over to the sidelines as Thomas shakes off the head knock and sees Kevin warming up as the rest of the bench is still loudly protesting the foul against Bastian. André smiles when he spots Per holding Lukas back. Of course the sight of Bastian bleeding from the face would have Lukas jumping out of his seat.

André snaps back to focus as Bastian rejoins the game and the team is finally allowed to build up an attack properly. The ball is passed to him from Toni, but the defenders are everywhere and he’s forced to pass it right back, but it’s enough. Suddenly, there’s some breathing space around André, and Toni sees it too. André collects the ball and starts to run down the sideline, sprinting past one, two, three Argentine players. He sees Mario sprint down the middle, somehow, miraculously, finding open space in the box. And in that moment, André sees that it’s all too easy. So he does what anyone else would do: he passes the ball.

****

Mario

In the end, everything comes down to three touches. Three perfect touches. The first touch is from André. The cross into the box is just right, is beautifully, perfectly accurate, and the ball seems to drop in slow motion for Mario. There’s no defender close enough to alter the path of the ball. It’s destined to find Mario. The second touch is with his chest, just enough to control the ball. Gravity does the rest, bringing the ball down so that Mario can execute the third and final touch. The whole world watches as the ball hits the net and it’s done. Goal.

For the next few seconds, Mario knows nothing but pure joy. (Later on, Marco will joke that he truly looked as bright as the sun. “See?” he'll say. “You really are Sunny.”) He’s heard Javi describe the moment after a goal in the World Cup final is scored, how the roar from the crowd is deafening and the delight of every teammate is delirious and euphoric, but Mario thinks that his description can’t truly do the real thing justice. André is the first one to find Mario and soon the team is surrounding him, hugging each other, laughing, shouting. And for a moment, the smile slips off Mario’s face and it’s replaced with a dazed look, the realization finally setting in. I just scored a goal, possibly the winning goal, in the World Cup final.

****

Per

Per hardly dares to believe it. After all these years, after so many attempts and getting so close every time, they’ve made it to the final and they’ve scored a goal. He prepares himself for a flag, a whistle, something to dismiss this impossible achievement, because it’s almost too good to be true. But nothing happens and his teammates are in an ecstatic state, and so he finally lets go of the doubt, lets himself join them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lukas leap off the bench, full of unbridled happiness, and throw himself into Bastian’s arms. The sight makes him, if it’s possible, even happier; even with something like this, the potential World Cup-winning goal, their first priorities are still each other.

“Mertesacker!” Jogi shouts above the thunderous cheering. “Suit up, I’m putting you on in a bit.” Per knows Jogi is being careful now, like any reasonable coach would. They have the lead, now what they need to do is defend, defend, defend, for the next 7 minutes. And yet, he can’t help feeling sorry for Lukas, for Kevin, for the youngsters, even for Ron-Robert and Roman, for everyone who deserves a chance to play but won’t be getting one.

****

Bastian

Bastian panics for a moment, knowing that he timed his tackle slightly late. He can’t be the one to give up the win, not with less than a minute left. The panic is quickly replaced by a sharp pain in his leg and for the sixth (or is it the seventh?) time, he goes down. Messi prepares his free kick as Bastian is treated. Please, please, please, don’t let this go in, Bastian begs silently as he limps off to the side. The entire stadium holds its breath. Bastian continues his internal prayer, caught between wanting to see every second and wanting to close his eyes because he can’t stand watching any of it.

Messi takes a few steps back, runs up, and takes the kick. Manuel leaps into the air, arm outstretched, but in the end, he doesn’t have to do much. The ball soars over the goal and Bastian is overwhelmed by the emotions he is suddenly flooded with. The match isn’t over yet, he reminds himself firmly. It’s an agonizing extra sixty seconds of play, with the German bench shouting for the referee to blow the whistle. Somehow, Bastian manages to find himself on the ground again, but it doesn’t matter because after exactly 123 minutes and 48 seconds of play, the whistle blows: Germany is the champion of the world.

****

Philipp

Weltmeister. The word rings in Philipps ears. He’s been waiting for this moment for what feels like his entire life, and now that it’s finally arrived, it seems impossible, surreal. We’re actually champions of the world. It’s a blur for the next few minutes. He vaguely registers the constant roar of the crowd in the background and the faces that come up to congratulate him. Most of the team had immediately formed a manpile after the whistle blew, and now they’re all starting to separate and celebrate with each other.

Bastian and Thomas immediately make their way to Philipp and the three of them share a tight, emotional embrace. Bastian’s tears are flowing freely, and Philipp honestly doesn’t know how he’s keeping it together and not crying too. He can see Per going around, wrapping every teammate he comes across in a giant hug. Mats and Benni are laying next to each other, staring up at the sky in wonder, murmuring quiet words of congratulations to each other. Shkodran is dancing to the music being blasted throughout the stadium as a few teammates watch in amusement.

The families pour onto the pitch to join in on the celebrations, and everyone is handed a new jersey with the fourth star added on the crest. For a moment, Philipp takes a step away from the crowd and allows himself to soak it all in. He watches as friends embrace, couples kiss, and the children run around in excitement. It’s all so perfect. We deserve this.

The teams begin to gather on the side of the pitch as the awards ceremony begins. Philipp chuckles when he sees Lukas put Louis down as Bastian drags him over to the nearest camera. His amusement rapidly turns into shock a second later when he sees Bastian leaning in towards Lukas, lips puckered and eyes closed. Is this the moment? Philipp wonders, remembering the Champions League final of 2005, when Xabi Alonso and Steven Gerrard famously had a moment similar to this. He’s not surprised to see Lukas going along with it, but Bastian is the one to pull away before their lips actually meet, laughing and shaking his finger. Philipp feels his heart drop for Lukas, who smiles and laughs along, but Philipp knows better. Shaking his head slightly, he turns away and prepares to walk up those stairs, to finally lift the trophy he’s been trying to win for the last eight years.

“Are we going up soon?” Mario asks.

“Yeah, Mario. They’re almost ready for us.” Philipp puts an arm around the hero of the day. “Why are you asking?”

Mario smiles, a hint of sadness on his face despite the joyous occasion. “I’m going to take Marco’s jersey up there with me. He should have been here with us. He deserved to be here with us.”

Philipp ruffles his hair fondly. “I know he did, kiddo. You better go get that jersey. It’s almost our turn.”

A few moments later, Bastian is leading the way up the stairs to accept their medals. Philipp is the last player to climb up the stairs, his smile growing when the fans shout “Danke Captain” as he passes them. This makes everything worth it, he thinks. All the struggling, the training, the fighting til the last second, this is worth all of that.

With the medal around his neck, Philipp readies himself for the big moment. And for a stupid second, all he can think is, I hope I don’t drop it. He finds himself holding his breath as the trophy, that gorgeous, beautiful, golden trophy, is passed from official to official. It finally reaches him, and he carefully takes it into his hands. Without a second thought, he does what he’s dreamed of doing since he was a child, and hoists the trophy, the World Cup, into the air. What a perfect way to end this, Philipp thinks to himself. Weltmeisters.

Chapter Text

July 13, 2014 - Rio de Janeiro

The sounds of celebration fade as Lukas and Bastian wander farther and farther away from the party. When nothing but the crashing of the waves can be heard, the pair finally come to a stop on the beach. Bastian groans as he lowers himself onto the soft white sand, the adrenaline rush no longer able to mask the abuse he suffered during the match. Lukas glances over in concern, but doesn’t say anything to ruin the silence.

Lukas really hasn’t said much since the final. Since that stupid almost-kiss and that stupid selfie. Rationally, he knows that it was all in good fun, that it shouldn’t mean anything. And yet, his heart rate multiplies just thinking about it. He remembers the way his heart stopped when Bastian closed his eyes and puckered his lips, the reckless hope that he felt, and the painfully fake smile he managed as Bastian pulled away at the last second.

Lukas looks down at the medal hanging around his neck, the moonlight making the gold shine softly, and for a moment he curses it. Winning makes people do stupid things. Things like posting a selfie (and making it a cover photo on Facebook, too. What was he thinking?) and nearly kissing a friend. He wants to blame it on the adrenaline and the drinks, but he’s finally dragged himself out of that stage of denial.

“Luki? You alright?” Bastian throws an arm around Lukas.

Lukas wants to pull away, afraid that Bastian will hear how his breath hitches with every touch they share. Luki. You called me that in front of the cameras. The interviewer had smiled, almost knowingly, when the nickname slipped past Bastian’s lips. Those same lips are now dangerously close to his own as Bastian stares at him, waiting for an answer. “I’m fine, Basti. Things are just sinking in, you know?” Bastian nods, taking the answer as a sign to leave the subject. He sighs and leans his head on Lukas’ shoulder.

They stay like that, staring out at the ocean, listening to the waves crash in sync with their breaths. When Lukas’ neck starts to cramp, he shifts slightly and Bastian immediately lifts his head, mumbling a soft “sorry.”

As Lukas rolls his neck, he notices the faint twinkling above him. He elbows Bastian lightly and point up at the sky. “Basti, look. There’s like, a gazillion stars out tonight.”

Bastian lies down completely in the sand, not caring if sand gets all over him. “Since when did space interest you?” he teases lightly.

“Since like, two seconds ago,” Lukas says, grinning softly as he lies down besides Bastian. “They’re beautiful. We won’t get a view of the sky like this back home.”

“Yeah, it is beautiful,” Bastian agrees. But he’s not looking at the sky as he says it.

****

The music is blaring into Philipp’s ears, but for once he doesn’t mind too much. We’re world champions, he reminds himself dazedly for what feels like the hundredth time. He shakes his head and takes another large gulp of beer. It’s his fourth bottle and the alcohol is making him feel young again.

“Fips!” Thomas somehow manages to shout above the music. Philipp can’t bring himself to feel even remotely annoyed like he usually would.

“What’s up Mülli?” Philipp attempts to make himself heard over all the noise. Suddenly, there’s a screen being shoved in his face, but Thomas’ hand is far from steady, making it impossible to see what he’s trying to show.

“Come on, look, Fips, look at them!” Thomas insists.

“Stop shaking your hand so much!” Philipp gives up and takes the phone himself. Once he’s finally able to actually see the screen, he takes in what he’s looking at. “This is...Lukas’ Facebook page?” Thomas nods enthusiastically. “But that’s Basti! Kissing him on the cheek! Is this some kind of joke?”

“No jokes this time Fips,” Thomas assures him, and sure enough, the massive grin on his face is quite genuine, lacks its usual mischief. "He put it up on Twitter, too."

Philipp (blaming it on the beer) starts laughing in disbelief. “This is really the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen from these two. And I think we can all agree that there has been some pretty ridiculous stuff from them over the years.”

“I agree,” Thomas says with a nod. “You know, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I think in this case, it’s worth 10 years’ worth of words.” Philipp stares at him incredulously for a moment before bursting into another round of laughter.

“I wonder where they are now,” Philipp manages to choke out in between gasps for air.

“Probably making out somewhere. I think everyone owes me money!” Thomas cheers.

Thomas’ shouting and Philipp’s laughter starts to attract a crowd. Benni glances at the screen that Thomas is proudly brandishing in every direction and rolls his eyes at Mats. “Outside?” he mouths, pointing at the door. Mats nods gratefully.

“Who the hell decided that much bass was necessary?” Benni asks the second they step out the door. “I think my eardrums are permanently damaged.”

“Cheer up, Benni, we’re world champions!” Mats says gleefully, throwing his arm around Benni’s shoulders. “Besides, it wasn’t even that bad.”

“That’s because you’re friends with Marco. Your opinion doesn’t count,” Benni says jokingly. He leans into Mats’ embrace as they walk, enjoying the feeling of being a world champion. “Do you think Thomas is ever gonna realize that Lukas put up something even better than that cover photo?”

“Wait, what? Where? And why do you know?” Mats raises an eyebrow.

“My money is on the line, too, you know,” Benni reminds him. “And so is yours. Plus, I’m kind of rooting for them. It’s about time.” Mats looks at him amusedly. “What? I happen to know from experience that it’s a million times better to just accept it and allow yourself to be happy with someone you want to be happy with.”

“You’re such a romantic, Benedikt Höwedes.” Mats is smiling so hard that he almost looks happier than he did when the final whistle blew earlier that night. “I love you.”

“I am not a romantic,” Benni protests. Mats gives him a look and Benni grins. “Okay, maybe a little. I love you, too, asshole.”

“Such language,” Mats says, smirking. Benni hits him lightly on the head. “Okay, so tell me about this mysterious post that’s worse than the selfie cover photo.”

“Look, it’s this video thing on Instagram,” Benni says, pulling it up on his phone. “Just watch it.”

Mats manages to watch for approximately three seconds before exploding into laughter. “I can’t believe this. What song did he even use?”

“That’s the best part,” Benni says. “Apparently it’s some love song. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I mean, it could just be a coincidence...”

“No way,” Mats says confidently. “Lukas has been learning Portuguese, there’s no way he didn’t know exactly what he was doing when he used this song.”

“How are they more obvious than we are? They’re not even together.”

“Aw, Benni, are you getting jealous? Do you want me to post a video of us with a love song?” Mats laughs and ducks out of the way of Benni’s shove.

“Watch yourself,” Benni warns with absolutely no heat in his voice (and the smile on his face would have ruined the effect anyway).

“Don’t worry Benni,” Mats says dramatically. “No matter what obstacles we face, I will forever be there at your side, loving you for all of time.”

“Please, for the love of everything good, shut up.” Benni tries (and fails) not to laugh. “You’re a massive dork, you know that?”

“I’m a massive dork with great hair,” Mats corrects him with a grin.

They continue down the beach, laughing and joking with each other until Benni spots another couple in the distance.  “Who else would be out here?”

“I think we just found Basti and Lukas,” Mats whispers.

“What’re they doing out here?”

Mats shrugs. “Same as us, probably.”

“What, taking a romantic stroll along the beach?”

“Oh, is that what this is?”

“Actually, I was hoping we’d do more than stroll, but seeing as we have company, maybe not,” Benni says, grinning.

Mats looks at him for a moment. “Okay, we’re going back inside now. Preferably to a private and secluded room.”

“Race you?”

“I’ll beat you, old man,” Mats says, but Benni is already sprinting toward the building.

****

July 14, 2014 - Rio de Janeiro

Bastian feels himself being shaken awake and immediately regrets that extra tray of shots. “Jesus Christ, Luki, it’s too early for this.”

“Are you hungover?” Lukas asks with a laugh.

“No, not at all,” Bastian says sarcastically. “I only drank about fifty times more than normal, but no problem, I’ll be up and about in no time.”

“I forgot how grumpy you are when you get wasted.” Lukas is smirking down at him, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“You’re too happy about this,” Bastian grumbles. “Why are you so happy, it’s too early.”

“Because we’re in Brazil and the sun is up and we’re world champions.” Lukas gives him an extra shake for emphasis. “Come on, I’ll get you water and aspirin. I want to go play basketball.”

“How can you think about playing basketball? How can you even think in the first place, why aren’t you hungover too? This is so unfair,” Bastian complains, burying his face into his pillow.

“It’s not my fault I’m not an old man.”

“I’m not old,” Bastian protests.

“Prove it. Get up, Basti, come on!”

Bastian groans and props himself up into sitting position. “Not old,” he mutters to no one in particular.

“Hey look, Luan and Noah are here! They wanna play too!” Lukas calls to him from the balcony.

Bastian mumbles something unintelligible and stumbles his way to the bathroom. Lukas waits until he hears the shower start running before pulling out his laptop and crudely photoshopping a picture of him and Bastian. The idea had come to him in the middle of the night, during the minutes (hours?) he spent staring at the person in the next bed. It’s been ten years. God knows how many games. Ten years listening to the same snores. That means something. And it does. So he writes out all his thoughts as the caption for his picture, making sure to reread it several times. For a moment, he hesitates clicking the “post” button, thinks maybe it’s too revealing. But then he decides that this friendship has defined him in so many ways, ways that he didn’t even know were possible, and any reservations he might have are nothing compared to that, so he takes a deep breath and just does it.

****

Thomas’ phone is vibrating in Manuel’s pocket and he can’t think of a worse way to wake up. “Mülli, your stupid phone,” he groans.

“Why does Manu still have your phone?” Lisa’s voice makes Manuel jump in surprise.

“Lisa?” His ears are ringing and he’s seeing double. “Why are you here?”

“I’m his wife.”

“No, why are you here, in this room?” Manuel squints as he tries to remember last night’s drunken celebration.

Lisa rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why I agreed to this arrangement, honestly, the things I do for you guys.”

“What arrangement?”

“The one where I stayed in a room with you and Thomas,” Lisa sighs. “I knew it would be a bad idea for me and Thomas to be in one bed and you in the other, but here we are. Now toss the phone over.”

“I see two of you right now, so I’m sorry in advance,” Manuel says as he throws Thomas’ phone over to one of the Lisas he sees.

“You’re such a drunkard,” Lisa says, but she’s smiling fondly now.

“Wait, Lisa? If you’re here, where’s Kathrin?” Manuel looks around for his girlfriend and sees no sign of her. I really should stop drinking so much during parties, he thinks to himself.

“She didn’t think it’d be a good idea to have four people in the room who are drunk off their asses, so she got a room somewhere else…” Lisa trails off and her eyes widen as she stares at Thomas’ phone screen. “Thomas, honey?” The lump of sheets next to her stirs and mumbles something incomprehensible. “Thomas, you might want to see this. It’s an instant hangover cure.”

“What is it?” Thomas resolutely refuses to lift his head.

“Your investment just might be paying off.” Thomas immediately sits up and Lisa hands him the phone amusedly.

Thomas stares at it for a good three minutes in silence before handing it back to Lisa. “What did I just see?”

“You just saw Lukas declare his love in six-” Lisa stops to recount and confirm. “Yup, six different languages.”

“I wanna see!” Manuel says, slurring slightly. He looks at the screen that Lisa shows him and his face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, what’s the fifth language? I don’t recognize it.”

“Let’s go ask someone,” Thomas says. He gets up, half naked, and starts stumbling towards the door.

“Thomas, there’s a lovely thing called Google and you’re still drunk, aren’t you?” Lisa shakes her head.

“Oh yeah,” Thomas says and returns to the bed.

Lisa quickly copies and pastes the text into Google translate. “Why the hell did he use Turkish?”

“The world may never know,” Manuel says wisely. “Mostly because no one is ever gonna ask him. Now can we please shut up so I can sleep before we go to the airport?”

“No we can’t!” Thomas exclaims suddenly, looking out the window in utter amazement.

“What is it now?” Manuel grumbles.

“They’re playing basketball with Luan and Noah,” Thomas says. “It’s irritatingly domestic.”

“With who?” Manuel vaguely recognizes the names, but it’s also currently a struggle to even remember his own.

“Miro’s sons? You’re more hungover than I thought, Manu,” Lisa says with a smirk. “Thomas, let him get some sleep, we can go out for breakfast first.”

Thomas thinks about it for a moment before plopping back on the bed. “Nah, I want to keep sleeping too.”

“Guess we’re sleeping then,” Lisa says as she settles down to join him.

****

“I’m tired,” Julian complains as he drags his suitcase along.

“Me too,” Erik says, stifling a yawn.

“We’re not tired. We’re hungover,” Matze says. “I could really use some coffee.”

“Benniiiiiii,” Julian says. “Give us coffee.”

“I’m not your mother. Go buy your own coffee.” Benni doesn’t even turn around.

“But I don’t have money.”

“You’re a world champion playing for Schalke and you don’t have money?” This time Benni stops to stare at Julian incredulously.

“Come to Dortmund and you won’t have this problem,” Mats says with a wink. Julian looks at him disgustedly and Benni shoves him with his shoulder playfully. Erik shares a smile with Matze, knowing that his contract with Dortmund is just days away from being finalized.

“If Dortmund pays so well, why don’t you treat all of us to some Starbucks?” Benni asks.

“Maybe I will,” Mats says. The youngsters perk up at the suggestion.

“I’ll take a venti strawberry cheesecake frappuccino,” Matze says.

“I want a tall caramel frappuccino with whipped cream,” Erik says.

“And for Schalke’s wonderboy?” Mats asks with a mischievous grin.

“I’ll have a chai tea latte,” Julian says at the same time as Benni answers, “I’ll have a double-shot espresso.” Erik and Matze explode in a fit of giggles as Jule and Benni look at each other.

“I am the original wonderboy,” Benni protests. “The one and only, okay?”

“You’re old news,” Julian says. “Come on, ask Mats who he meant.”

“Sorry Benni, light of my life, I meant Jule,” Mats admits, trying to give Benni a reassuring hug to make up for it.

“Don’t you ‘light of my life’ me. You’re on my shit list right now,” Benni says with a glare, refusing to accept the hug.

“I love you, blueberry,” Mats whispers as Benni continues to struggle in his arms, trying his hardest to hide his smile.

“We’re literally in an airport guys. Unless you want Bild sniffing you two out, I would stop,” Julian says.

“Fine,” Mats sighs, reluctantly letting Benni go. “Come on, let’s go get your coffee, boys.”

****

They’re boarding the plane when the caffeine and sugar start to kick in. “Mats, Mats, why aren’t we moving?” Matze is practically bouncing in place as he strains to see what the holdup is.

“People are just finding their seats, calm down please.” Mats rolls his eyes as Matze continues his bouncing.

“What is even in a strawberry cheesecake frappuccino?” Benni asks. His double-shot has him feeling only marginally more awake while the non-caffeinated drinks seem to have the others over-energized.

“I’m not really sure. Strawberries. Actually, probably more like strawberry syrup. Vanilla bean syrup. Syrup. More syrup. I don’t know what else...Oh! And whipped cream. Obviously.”

“God help us,” Mats mutters.

They stand (or bounce) in place for another minute before Benni frowns and looks around. “Okay, why is this taking so long?”

Mesut turns around and sighs. “Lukas and Basti are taking a picture. They’re asking for all of us to be patient while the picture is perfected by Per. In other words, expect it to take a while because I don’t think Per understands how iPhone cameras work yet.”

“Ohhh, that’s why he always asks someone else to take pictures of us instead of taking selfies,” Benni says.

“I can take perfectly good selfies of us together,” Mats says, sulking a little.

“Aw, are you jealous of Per?” Benni teases. “We do take a lot of pictures together.” Mats rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out. “Don’t worry, Mats, I’m pretty sure Per is preoccupied with that French guy anyway. What did he call him? Lolo?” Before anyone can answer, the line starts moving again and everyone is finally able to sit down.

“Do you think the picture is already up?” Mats asks once everyone has settled. A delighted yell from a few rows behind them answers his question. “And there’s Thomas with the notification. Check all the usual places, Benni.”

“Got it,” Benni says cheerfully. “Oh wait, there’s a picture on Instagram, but it’s from before, at the airport. And there’s a video on Lukas’ Facebook too.”

Mats shakes his head as the video plays. “Jule told us to be less obvious in the airport, but look at these two. Ridiculous.”

Benni closes the video and switches his phone to airplane mode as he settles more comfortably into his seat, leaning his head on Mats’ shoulder. “What was your bet with Thomas again?”

“Hmm, something about getting together before the new season, I think,” Mats sighs. “I’m losing that one, unfortunately.”

“I’m losing both my bets,” Benni says glumly. “Oh, and we’re all losing the one with Miro, obviously. But don’t feel bad, we’ll lose together.”

There’s some commotion behind them and they look over the tops of their seats in confusion. “Kevin, Roman, what is the problem?” Mats asks.

Roman looks highly disinterested as he informs them, “Thomas has some information for everyone.”

“Why do you talk so formally, man? ‘Thomas has some information for everyone,’” Kevin mimics in an overly posh voice.

“That’s honestly not even how I talk,” Roman complains.

“Okay, whatever you say,” Kevin says with a grin before addressing Mats and Benni. “Anyway, like he said, Thomas wanted us to pass along some info. Check Basti’s Facebook, he said.”

“Um, okay?” Benni says. “We will. Thanks Kevin. And Roman.” They turn back around and check the page on Mats’ phone.

“Ah. Well, that’s a change. Basti posting something two days in a row? That’s usually something Lukas would do,” Benni ponders as they look at the picture.

Mats shrugs. “Love makes you do crazy things.”

Benni smiles and places his hand on Mats’. “Yeah, yeah it does.”

****

July 15, 2014 - Berlin

Lukas loves football with all his heart. He loves the feel of the pitch under him, the way the ball spins when it’s hit just right, the sound of the ball hitting the back of the net. But most of all, he loves the fans. The roar of the crowd, the undying loyalty, the way they don’t just watch, they feel everything. He loves the way the fans love him even when the managers don’t, and he loves the way they believe in him even after he stops believing. They deserve this cup, Lukas thinks. They deserve it just as much as we do.

“Are you ready Poldi?” Bastian is wrapped in a German flag and the cut on his face is covered with a small bandage. He looks every bit like the hero the people deserve.

Poldi sticks his custom-made “Aha” hat on and grins. “I’m always ready for the fans.”

“That you are,” Bastian says with a smile. “Always the fan favorite, Prinz Poldi.”

“Alright fuβballgott, let’s get this show on the road.”

Celebrating with the fans is almost just as beautiful as the hours immediately following the final whistle. Almost. Lukas loses himself in the moment, drinking in the sunlight and the sea of people all screaming and singing and dancing. He finds himself taking pictures non-stop, wanting to capture every single second of the celebrations. He takes pictures with everyone, with Jogi and Mesut and Per and everyone, but mostly with Bastian. He decides not to post all of them, instead finds one that he likes and posts it twice.

****

“Thomas, your phone is vibrating again!” Manuel calls over the noise of the celebrations. “I wouldn’t check it right now, we’re celebrating.”

“No way, I’m checking it right now.” Thomas hands the World Cup over to Mesut and grabs his phone out of Manuel’s hands.

“You’re giving up precious moments with the literal World Cup to check Facebook?” Mesut asks incredulously.

“No, I’m checking Instagram and Twitter too,” Thomas says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Mesut leans over to glance at the screen. “Is it worth it then? What did Lukas post now?”

“Oh, just this!” Thomas brandishes the screen at him proudly. “It’s on Instagram and Twitter. I’m gonna make so much money.”

“Good luck with that,” Mesut says before walking off to take pictures with Sami and Jerome.

“Manu, you’ll appreciate this, come and look!” Thomas says.

“They’re crazy,” Manuel sighs as he glances at the screen. “That’s the only explanation for why they aren’t together by now.”

“It’ll happen soon,” Thomas says. “I just know it.”

****

The celebrations start to die out as the sun sets and the crowd dissipates, leaving red, black, and yellow confetti strewn all across the streets. The music is still booming out into the emptying streets as the players tiredly trudge their way to the bus. All of them are reluctant to leave, even if it means they can go on vacations, finally. Going on vacation means that they won’t be together, and that’s something that they’ve gotten very used to over the past two months.

“I don’t want this to end,” Bastian finds himself saying. His heart feels heavy at the very thought. Lukas opens his mouth to speak, but then the hushed conversations around the bus stop as Philipp stands up from his seat and clears his throat. “I just wanted to say, it’s been an honor, a dream, to be able to play with you guys. I know did the whole celebratory speech back in Brazil, but now that we’re home, I want one last toast, to the World Cup. To Brazil. Auf uns.”

The team gives what’s left of their energy to clap and cheer and ignore the fact that this is the last time they will all be together on the same team. As the players go their own ways, back to hotels or houses or airports, the final “Auf uns” rings in their ears, and every player knows that those two words will symbolize something that a million other words will never be able to describe. So they take the two words, and they brand them in every fiber of their being. Auf uns.

****

They try to avoid tearful goodbyes because they knew all along that this was going to happen. But it was also inevitable that someone would start, and then there was no stopping it. Friends, lovers, it doesn’t matter. They are all family in the end. It’s impossible to just win something like the World Cup and not feel an incredibly deep connection with the every person who helped the team along the way. So they cry. They say goodbye. And just like that, it’s over.

Lukas and Bastian are the last ones to leave. There are a thousand words unspoken as they stare at each other, both clutching tickets to completely separate places. Lukas finally breaks the silence. “So I guess you can’t come watch Formula 1 with me.”

Bastian smiles sadly. “I wish I could. Take Louis instead, okay?”

Lukas nods, swallowing back tears. A distant voice calls Bastian’s flight number. “Looks like you have to go.”

“I guess I should.”

“Bye, Basti.” Lukas can’t bring himself to say anything else without spilling out everything he’s feeling right now.

“Bye, Luki.” They embrace quickly before Bastian turns around and walks toward his gate. He can feel Lukas watching him go and he desperately wants to turn around and wave, just so that he can see his face one last time. But he also knows that if he turns around, he won’t be able to leave. So he doesn’t wave. He just keeps walking until Lukas is swallowed up by the busy airport. And he doesn’t look back.

Lukas watches his friend walk away in silence. It isn’t until Bastian is well out of sight that Lukas finally finds the words he’s been searching for all this time. “I love you, Basti.” Silence.