A/N: Even in the year 3000, Italians are smug about football. *Shrugs*
“I literally do not believe this is a thing anyone does for fun,” Maximilien panted. He was flushed, hair sticking to his face and neck, highlighting the scar around his throat.
Leonardo, the damned show off, was easily manipulating the ball with his feet, making it jump twist between his ankles like an affectionate beast. He laughed.
“I do! It’s deceptively simple, but takes an enormous amount of dexterity and endurance.”
Maxime made a face. “I have plenty of endurance!” He snapped, but groaned when Leonardo began walking backwards, taking the ball with him.
“Oh yes? Then why don’t you come get me, Maxime?” Leonardo grinned.