Two lines of tired men stood opposite each other, their skins glowing or shining with a glimmer of sweat, their shirts damp to various degrees. But upon the one side, eyes were fresh with sweet tears of joy, while upon the other was a hint of bitterness despite the honourable mention of congratulations they voiced to the winners of the game. It couldn't be helped. From the beginning, as they had ran onto the neat, green field with its straight white, painted lines, they knew that only one side of those who played today would be victorious. The others would leave this battle as losers and ever lament. In the end, it had come down to just three points. In the stands fans cheered, fans cried, but no matter their feelings, they could admit it had been an excellent game, exciting and not without trepidation right until the end. So even those who'd seen their country lose were not completely dissatisfied. Just disappointed. But there were two men, at the very least, who had no sense of loss. For them, there was still a sense of victory. The head coach slapped his men upon their backs, pleased with their efforts and gameplay, even as he was frustrated that they had not grasped victory in the end. Their opponent's strength and unity was just that much better than their own at the end of the day. He ushered them to the showers after offering some words of consolation and encouragement. This season might be over, this chance was gone, but there would be more in the future. "You did well," he said to the tall man currently beside him. "Thanks coach," Zandre grinned brightly. He'd fought with all his might and though he couldn't help hold the World Cup this time, there was still a prize beyond value waiting for him in the stands, so there was far less desolation in his molten brown eyes. Labelled priceless, that individual with golden hair highlighted by the sun's warm rays peered through slightly shuttered eyes as the woman who sold him for a ticket was kicking the ground with her branded pumps unhappily. "What's wrong with Livvie?" Saburo leaned over his eldest brother's shoulder to whisper in his ear. "She looks like someone snatched the last cupcake in front of her." He shook his head, how could he know what went through a woman's mind, especially as what was going through his had nothing to do with one. His mind was rather distracted by a reel of images involving his fierce Alpha as his muscles swelled beneath his shirt as he tackled other men and the serious concentration upon his face as he played. Occasionally, when the referee paused game play for a handful of seconds, Zee would turn his head in their direction and Ichiro felt that he was seeking him. His heart had raced at those points far faster than at those times when their country rushed to score a try or made a goal kick. The crowds were thinning out now, there were only a few men and women dawdling in an unhurried way. Staff had descended among them, encouraging them to leave. Ichiro looked down at the field as he grabbed his thin jacket with a slight frown; what about Zandre? "Ichiro," Saburo hissed as they received glares and he could only lift his feet towards the exits, his mood lowering with every step. Perhaps he'd been right to worry despite everything... Barely as such a thought crossed his mind did two solid arms wrap around his body and draw him to press against a warm wall brimming with the deep forest scent he was long since addicted too. "Zandre," he murmured as the man nuzzled into the column of his neck, breathing in his own pheromones that had quickly stirred in greeting. His whole being was turned one eighty and he finally got to see up close the man his eyes had been trained upon for most of the eighty minute match. Zee's two dark eyes shone and mirrored the two black gems captured in their gaze. A myriad of emotions swept through Ichiro, unleashed completely from the inner restraints formed from misguided beliefs over a lifetime and as if fearing Zandre would disappear from his life again, he wrapped his arms about the other man's neck. Truthfully, he had nothing to worry about for Zandre's arms that had encircled his waist only didn't tighten and cage him for fear of hurting him, but otherwise, the Alpha had no intention of letting go. "I'm sorry...!" Both men voiced in unison, then hesitated for a moment before simply sinking into each other's embrace once more, but this time, their hearts felt lighter of weight. "Ahem!" Olivia cleared her throat, just as Saburo giggled and captured the moment on his phone. Almost guiltily, the pair glanced around at those who had been completely forgotten as they wrapped themselves in a world of two. "I'll take the boys back to our hotel. Just message me... tomorrow... or whenever!" "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Saburo joked just as his eldest brother frowned and yelled back; "Hey! What's that supposed to mean!? Jiro, you keep an eye on him! He's not allowed near any foreign boys! Or any boys for that matter!" "Yes, brother," Jiro replied, nonchalantly, before turning to his younger brother and saying; "I heard that our hotel has a luxury pool and spa, as well as room service as standard. You can also get pay for view movies, but you might have to put up with subtitles." "Ooo! I want to order pizza!" Saburo declared and tugged on his brother's arm to head back to the train station. Livvie sighed and looked at them indulgently for half a heartbeat and was about to offer Ichiro a 'see you later' when something occurred to her. "Hey! The hotel is billed to my name!" She quickly chased after them. Zandre's forgotten agent bid them goodbye as well, thinking that he'd remind Zandre of their flight back home tomorrow. Now he just had to get a room elsewhere as he certainly could not return to the one he'd shared with Zandre this night.