Little Mewis

Nope, Don't Give a Shite

Sort of inspired by that 4-0 US vs Columbia game
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"Guys!" you whined, blowing your nose into a tissue as the team gathered in the lobby. "At least let me come with you! It's just a cold, I don't have a fookin' fever anymore."

"No!" Tobin chided. "You need to rest!"

"That's all I've been doin' for the past week!" You protested. "Lyssy, tell Tobin to let me come watch! I'll just be on the bench."

"Tobin, she's okay now," the Red Stars Keeper chuckled. "Lay off a little bit."

"Fiiiine. If you faint or something, it's your fault."

"Yeah, whatever!"

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"HI VIVY!" You shouted, voice nasally as the Orange Lionesses filed onto the pitch. "MISS YOUS!"

The Dutch Striker waved back, smiling as her team began to warm up. It quickly changed to a frown as she realized you were there. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'M BENCHED!"

"Okay!"

"Bad Y/N!" Sonnett scolded, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to the US bench. "You're supposed to be sitting down, not fraternizing with the enemy!"

"Sor-ryyy," you huffed, crossing your arms. "You act like I was chattin' with, like, the Sweden Women's National Team captain. I was talkin' to a close friend, ya' fookin' yoke."

"What?" She looked confused.

You rambled on. "You act like we was talkin' for Donkey's Years! Honestly, I can't even 'ave a conversation without one of yous slaggin' me!"

By now, the entirety of the USWNT and coaching staff was watching on with puzzled expressions on their faces.

"What?" Rose scratched her head, the rest of the team nodding in agreement. "What does that mean?"

You scowled. "What does what mean?"

"What is a... um..." Kristie trailed off. "Are these slang words?"

"Maybe," you flushed red, mentally cursing your roommate for always using Irish terms at home. "I'm just gonna go... use the jacks."

"The what?"

"Oh, piss off!"

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"Vlatko!" you barked as you watched Jill Roord bury another goal into the net, making the score
2-0 Netherlands. "Leave it to me, I'll rough them up!"

He shook his head. "Your sisters will kill me."

"Nope, don't give a shite," you ignored your coach, standing up and beckoning Alex off. "I don't care if it's a fookin' friendly, we're in bits."

Vlatko sighed, gaining the attention of the fourth official to sub you on. "You're protecting me from Kristie and Sam when they come barreling over."

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"Oops!" you stated cheerfully as you backheeled the ball past Daphne van Domselaar and into the side netting, changing the score from 2-nil Netherlands to 2-1. "My foot slipped, sorry Danny!"

The Dutch Midfielder cracked a smile at the stupid nickname as she feigned offense. "How could you do that to me? I thought you liked us more than that."

You shrugged cheekily. "Nah, you're all a bunch of dryshites."

The former Arsenal star gasped, knowing what you meant as she'd been friends with Katie. "We are not! We're fun unlike you stinking Americans!"