darrus (darrus) wrote,

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Coach OTP fic - Perhaps Love


: darrus
Fandom: German National team
Pairing: hint of Klinsmann/Matthaeus, but mostly het.
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: Just one more divorce, no big deal...

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 

Nobody Knows


- And you’ve forgotten your razor.

- Oh, did I?

- Get out of here!

- Now do you want to make a scandal out of it? Can’t we just…

- Get out of here this second!


“We’re not together anymore since four months”.

She threw him out of the house yesterday, after reading another article – one too many, but the appearances should be kept. Dream love that ended in all friendship, peacefully and to their mutual satisfaction.

She’s made such an ugly scene, even throwing a plate at him, he had to duck to avoid the object flying in his direction. His arm was sliced by the wayward shard of porcelain. She was screaming at him, he didn’t even know she knew so many swear words. She was telling him off everything she kept to herself these four years.

He laughed at her because it really was laughable. That’s when she threw this plate at him.

Good that Marijana is clever enough to take money and let all the explanations to him. Nobody needs more rumors than the ones already flying around. And nobody needs scandals.

It wasn’t love, it didn’t end in friendship, he couldn’t care less and it’s nobody’s business that he wasn’t the one who ended this relationship. They have a story they can publish, and if this story has nothing to do with truth – whose fault is it anyway?


- How long did you live in München?

- Too long to count, babe.

- Did you like Kiev?

- Yes, babe, it’s beautiful.

- Do you love me?

- Love you with all my heart, babe.


She giggles after every second phrase. She can’t walk past the mirror without looking at her reflection admiringly and straightening her dress or righting her hair. She’s still in school, only couple of months older than his younger daughter.

Her hair is dark.

She looks a bit like Lolita, even some mannerisms remind him of his second wife. Dark, exotic and beautiful.

She loves gifts, so it’s easy to please her.

She looks at him with barely hidden passion, and passionate she is – some nights become exhausting for him. Not that he is complaining.

There’s nothing better to help one forget every disturbing thought than a new affair. He’s used to lose himself in the novelty of another relationship, when everything is strange and almost puzzling, it’s like solving a pleasantly easy crossword that has a pair of tricky questions in it.

They talk about it being a new love and already designated her to be his fourth wife. They even interview her schoolmates.

His mother already called him to tell not to bring her with him when he’ll be visiting them for holidays – unless he’s really going to marry her.

He doesn’t pay much attention to it all because he’s happy to feel the passion rushing through his veins again, to feel his head spin and to see this young, beautiful woman looking at him like that.

He almost feels twenty again. Almost.


He’s not married anymore and he’s not alone. His nights are never lonely and he’s enjoying again the greatest advantage relationship has over marriage. Freedom. Free to do anything and to go anywhere he wants, without constant thoughts about keeping the façade…


- There’s one thing I’ve forgotten to tell you.

- What, Marijana? It took you the whole week to remember what name you didn’t call me while throwing things around?

- Nothing so trivial, dear, I thought I’d share with you… ah… some very intriguing fact…

- Like?

- I’ve noticed last month – oh, not that I’ve had much time to observe, you were always… somewhere, but still I’ve noticed – you were talking in your sleep sometimes, calling someone’s name to be more precise…

- Marijana, if I…

- And now for the thing that makes it interesting – the name you were calling was not Lillian, no, not at all…

- Goodbye, Marijana.


- Do you love me, Lothar?

- Yes, babe, love you with all I am.

She smiles and turns to the mirror, painting her lips with a hot-pink lipstick.





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