darrus (darrus) wrote,
darrus
darrus

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Coach OTP fic - Perhaps Love


SOLITAIRE

Author
: darrus
Fandom: German National team
Pairing: Klinsmann/Loew, Matthaeus/Klinsmann
Rating: PG 
Language: English
Warning: RPS

Disclaimer: I still don't know people mentioned in this story and I still hope it isn't true. The plot is still only my fantasy

Summary: night in Budapest

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 


Solitaire

 

“Lothar!”

 

He lifts his head.

 

Marijana is standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. She looks annoyed, and probably there will be another fight tomorrow or the day after, depending on when she decides that she’s had enough of whatever is not right by her this time. Her night gown is black. Yesterday she wore red.

 

“Don’t speak so loud, children are asleep already”, his voice is low and even.

 

She glares at him.

 

“Are you going to bed?”

 

“I’m waiting for a call”.

 

“It’s 2 a.m. already!”

 

“It is important”.

 

She leaves the room in a whirl of black chiffon. She is angry. It is a worrying thought.

 

He lowers his gaze to the phone in his palm. He is sitting like that for two hours already. The black plastic is warm to the touch.

 

The screen is empty.

 

He starts typing another message.

 

‘I’d like to speak with you’.

 

If he wants to talk, he simply has to call. Jürgen gave him the number himself.

 

Delete.

 

‘How is your work?’

 

Their relationship is not close enough to ask such questions.

 

Delete.

 

‘Giovanni will be glad to see you in Salzburg’.

 

Bad wording for an invitation, and it won’t do to hide behind Giovanni’s back.

 

Delete.

 

‘I love y…'

 

Delete.

 

‘It would be…’

 

“Lothar”.

 

Her voice is much quieter now. Changing the tactic probably. He turns so she won’t see the phone in his hand.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Did you set the alarm-clock?”

 

“I did”.

 

She smiles. The strap of the night-gown slides down from her shoulder, as if by accident, her breasts are full and firm. This sight turns him on. It would turn every man on.

 

“Still no call?”

 

“Go to sleep. I’ll wait a bit more. It is important”.

 

She turns around, the movement harsh and angry. Maybe she even suspects that he is lying. His wife is a clever woman.

 

He is typing without looking at the keyboard.

 

‘… good to see you here’.

 

Not a message he could send to the man he is barely speaking with.

 

Delete.

 

‘I want to tell you about…’

 

Whatever he wants to tell him about should be said in person, not by SMS.

 

Delete.

 

‘Wish me luck for tomorrow’s game’.

 

If only the match was important enough to ask others for good wishes…

 

Delete.

 

‘I love you’.

 

Delete.

 

‘I want to hear your voice’.

 

Melodrama.

 

Delete.

 

‘Your thoughts about Germany’s last match?’

 

Surely Löw was first to ask this question.

 

Damn this Löw to seventh hell.

 

Delete.

 

‘I…’

 

“It’s late, Lothar”, she sounds worried.

 

He nods.

 

“Just go to bed. I’ll come soon”.

 

And his fingers are already running over the keys again, as if by their own will.

 

‘… love you'.

 

Delete.

 

‘How was your operation?’

 

He should have asked this question six days ago.

 

Delete.

 

Such a foolish game.

 

Such a useless way of wasting time.

 

He will never send any one of those messages.

 

‘I miss you’.

 

As if Jürgen cares.

 

Delete.

 

‘When will you be in Europe?’

 

As if he can ask Jürgen about his plans.

 

Delete.

 

‘I love you’.

 

As if it matters.

 

Delete.

 

Marijana is right.

 

It is too late already.

 

31.03.2007

 

tbc

Tags: camel, coach otp, fanfiction, football, klinsmann, loew, matthaeus, perhaps love, slash, soccer
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