darrus (darrus) wrote,

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Coach OTP fic - Perhaps Love


: darrus
Fandom: German National team
Pairing: Klinsmann/Loew, various
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: usual day in spring...

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 

E Adesso Come Si Fa


- Don’t, please, please, don’t, don’t…

- Hush, dear. There’s nothing to be scared of.

- Please…

- You’ll feel good, I promise.

- Please, don’t do it…

Soft rustling of black silky bedsheets, tree branch with green leaves rattling against the window, and soft, pleading voice.

- Don’t, please…

- Hush.


- I’ll make you feel good. Very good, my dear. We’ll feel good.

- Please, Hans, don’t…

- Oh, believe me, it’ll be good…


- Damn you, Hansi, couldn’t you find some more suitable movie than third-class porn to watch in the middle of the day?!

He presses pause and turns around, beaming at the sight of Andy’s amused face.

- But I’m not doing it in the DFB central, so what’s the problem?

- At this point I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t come up with the idea of watching it in Jogi’s main office, - laughs Köpke. – You should’ve at least locked the door.

- Imagine all these moans and orgasmic cries from behind the locked door? – Andy giggles at that and sits down. – Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to get in here in this case, and I trust you’ve brought something important?

- Not much – some materials for the Database Urs sent today. So, is this, - he points towards the screen, - any good?

- Don’t know yet, some wacko here broke into the house and found this sex-bomb sitting in the kitchen. Hot sex was about to ensue, but you’ve interrupted. Care to watch together? I’ve got beer here somewhere.

- Tempting, I’ll say, - grins Andy, - but I’ve got a meeting in half an hour. So…

- Then I’ll get you the DVD as soon as I’m finished watching.

Andy salutes him mockingly and leaves, closing the door tightly.



Roasted chicken and potatoes, vegetable salad in elegant glass bowls, fine china plates and pink rose in the porcelain mug on a kitchen table. Everything around is shining in the sunlight. She’s spent the last two weeks doing a Big Spring Cleaning, washing the windows so the glass is now so perfectly transparent it seems there is no glass at all, cleaning everything, making everything look perfect, throwing all old and ragged things away. She’s spent the last weeks shopping – aimlessly wandering through the big malls, buying perfectly useless things – purse that is richly decorated with rhinestones and just beautiful, but won’t look good with anything she usually wears, large earrings colored in fuchsia and pink, shoes without heels, tight denim mini-skirt she would be ashamed to put on even at home… Perfume – the brand that she never wears but the aroma made her think of spring and happiness, and a small glass figurine of butterfly with intricately painted pattern on its wings.

She’s singing out loud, filling the glasses with wine, and smiles at her reflection in the mirror before entering the room.

He’s watching boxing match on TV, takes the offered plate without taking his eyes off the screen. She adjusts the folds of her light flowing skirt before taking her fork and enjoying the perfectly cooked food. Everything is perfect these days.

She’s suddenly having a desire to share a story with him. A light amusing story about this strangely familiar man she’s met on a snow-covered street and this flying mood that never left her since then, but looking at him now she knows that he doesn’t care about her stories and probably doesn’t care about men she meets too…

- You know, I’ve met my old friend some days ago, - says she quietly. Days? Or weeks? She’s not sure, the time flies so fast.

He grunts something that can be taken as question – or maybe it’s some sort of reaction to the match he is watching.

- Yes, my classmate, - she continues, smile playing at the corners of her lips.

- Classmate? – Asks he in indifferent tone, not looking at her.

- Yes, - and almost whispers the name, savoring it on her lips. – Bernd.



- You should be learning German! - The blonde boy laughs and throws the ball at the small girl sitting on a swing.

- I know German! – She pouts.

- You have accent, - he sticks his tongue at her. – And dad says my language is good enough and next autumn I’ll be going to German school in München!

She makes a face.

- When I go to school I’ll be speaking German better than you, and you’ve made two mistakes yesterday.

- Who told you that?

- Guess who, - she sticks her tongue back at him and runs from him, he’s in hot pursuit. But she stumbles and falls, and when he catches up with her she’s sitting on the sand, nursing her knee and trying not to cry.

- Lai, you’re hurt? – He asks and bends down to look at the blood pouring from two scratches on her kneecap.

She shakes her head, trying to look brave.

He blows air on her wounds, just like mom does when he gets hurt.

- Let’s walk home, ok? I’ll help you.

He helps her to get up and walks her the short distance to the glass doors of the main room, holding her tightly and protecting her, because he is big and strong and she is so little and she is hurt and needs his help.

- What’s there? – Their father’s voice greets them, he is standing in the doorway, smiling.

- Lai got hurt, dad, - says Jonathan.

- Oh, then we should make it better, - laughs Jürgen and lifts the girl up and sweeps her around till she is laughing too and then carries her to the sofa and smiles at his son.

Jonathan smiles back and runs to find mom – she should know where bandages are.



Olli puts down his pen, stretches his long legs – with his height spending the whole day over the paperwork is quite a chore. But there is this sense of having everything done and be relieved of all duties at least for tonight.

Klara meets him down in the street, she’s wearing jeans and tight jacket, and he’s still in his suit, only the tie is now in his pocket and the collar of the shirt is unbuttoned. And he’s bought her flowers – red and yellow tulips. She’s now carrying them carefully.

And they spend this evening in the cinema, on the backseats. Teenage couple right in front of them is kissing passionately, not paying attention to the screen.

And they’re holding hands and looking at each other, not noticing what movie it is. He bends down and kisses her lightly – nobody will notice in the darkness, that’s what movie theatres are for anyway. She laughs, puts her bouquet down and embraces him.

It’s great to feel so young and so reckless again. It’s great to be with somebody you love who really loves you back.





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