darrus (darrus) wrote,

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Coach OTP fic - Perhaps Love


: darrus
Fandom: German National team
Pairing: Klinsmann/Loew, but only implied in this chapter
Rating: G 
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: Dedicated to "Stuttgart" winning Bundesliga after 15 years of waiting. Klinsmann's POV

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 

Celebrate the Day


Good that I’m used to waking up early.


Twenty minutes spent in the studio, and now I’m ready to go home and watch the match, even though I’m missing the beginning already. I don’t remember when was the last time I was so nervous before watching football, even Rudi’s game with Czechs on Euro wasn’t able to make me so wound up.


The streets are still almost empty at 6 am, and there are no lights and no movement in the neighborhood, I am the early bird again.


And the first thing I see entering the house is my Jonathan, curled up on the couch, munching the potato chips and staring at the TV screen.


“You should still be in bed”, I say, trying not to sound too patronizing.


He waves me away absently. “We’re losing”.


His voice is so desolate that I’m almost ready to laugh, though I was hoping for better news. And this ‘we’ is so cute… And so sincere. I never thought my son is a fan of ‘Stuttgart’.


I sit down on the couch near him and steal some chips from the pack he is holding. “They still need only a draw”.


He nods, pushing the bottle of Cola in my direction.


We’re sitting together in silence, watching the match.


“How did it go?” Asks he after a short pause.


“Not bad. They’ve asked usual questions, got usual answers, and everyone was happy.”


He nods again. “Good”. When it comes to my work he is always trying to seem grown up and serious and to speak with me as an equal.


“Why are you cheering for ‘Stuttgart’?” A silly question probably, but I’d really like to know.


He shrugs, looking at me as if I indeed said something very silly.


“It was your club, and Grandma is living there”.


Now this is a child’s logic that sometimes makes more sense than anything else.


The mood in the room gets brighter with every minute, we’re drinking Cola and singing very quietly, and I am surprised to learn that he knows some of the usual fan-chants. I even suspect that it was Guido Buchwald who taught them to my son last time he was here. By the end of the match he is practically bouncing on the edge of the seat with excitement, and this time it is me who has to pretend to be grown up and serious, otherwise I would be jumping up and down too.


With the final whistle he throws his arms around my neck, and the next second he is running across the corridor yelling ‘We are the champions!’ at the top of his lungs, and then I hear Debbie laughing and Laila’s happy voice.


We. Are. The. Champions.




Oh. My. God!


Too bad father didn’t live to see it…


There is a hint of sadness now mixed with joy, but the joy is overflowing, the victory… The Victory!


I’m already opening my phone to start typing an SMS, but the signal of the incoming message interrupts me.


‘We are the CHAMPIONS!!!!!’

Yes, it may seem cheesy that Guido is listed as ‘Diego’ in my contact list, but he doesn’t mind this nickname, so why should I?

‘celebrate the day!!!!!’

And yes, it may sound even cheesier that the messages we are sending to each other are actually the lines from the songs, and I’m not even ashamed of it.


I’m happy that Guido will be participating in the awards ceremony. He’s waited for it for so long, and he deserves it fully.


Another message, almost the moment I finished sending my reply to Guido.

‘So, congratulations or what?’

From ‘Carlos’. My Karl.

‘may I have both?’


And then I’m typing another message.

‘so we’ve won anyway!’

Jogi won’t have time to read it right now, but he’ll read it as soon as he is free. We’ll talk later today, I hope.



I’m deleting this message without second thought.


‘VfB is junk, Stuttgarter Kickers forever! :)’

I smile. Bernd. I would’ve thought that something is wrong if my brother didn’t send me something like that.

‘vfb + kickers = love! :)’

That’s my usual version of answer.

They’re probably celebrating like mad with all their staff already.


No, it just won’t do to leave messages without answers.


It won’t hurt, right?

Strange that Lothar’s number is in the ‘Friends’ group. How could it end up there, I wonder?





I know that he is happy for me now.



In the kitchen children are jumping around, yelling ‘We are the champions!’ Debbie smiles and kisses me briefly. “Congratulations, love”.


The signal of another SMS doesn’t let me answer.


She laughs. “Get this thing out of here, or there’ll be no breakfast for you”.


Laughing, I turn the phone off. But before we are able to sit down to start eating, there is a knocking on the front door. Our neighbor is standing there, practically beaming.


“Congratulations, mister Klinsmann!”


I smile and shake his hand. The thought pops up in my head suddenly – what if we make a celebration today? Sure, most of our neighbors don’t watch soccer, least of all German Bundesliga, but they all are great people, and the small feast we could make will be an excellent idea. And all the children will be happy.





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