darrus (darrus) wrote,

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Coach OTP fic - Perhaps Love


Author: 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: and to the quarterfinal.

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 

We've Only Just Begun

- Long story short, I had to drive another two miles to find a cat sleeping peacefully at the back of this guy's truck. And then it'll be another long story - me, trying to get my own cat from a very warm and apparently comfortable vehicle.

- Successfully, I trust? - The smile never leaves his face for a second since the plane has landed in London.

Gary, laughing, shows him two deep scratches on his left forearm.

- The experiment showed that cats have claws. And they also can bite.

Jürgen runs his fingers along the red lines on the skin. Gary doesn't say anything, doesn't move, and allows this light caress.

- You know, - Jürgen's voice is suddenly hoarse. - I was in London five weeks ago.

'And never ever had a wish to call you, so what's going on now?' But he doesn't say it because he's not sure that Gary can answer this question.

- I see, - the Englishman looks at him without a smile - patented English deadpan look. - I was too busy in Bristol then.

As if somehow it explains everything.

And maybe it does. What need is there of London without Gary?

But then again, it doesn't. Why did he feel himself so free that last time and why doesn't he miss this sense of freedom now?

But it's not Gary who can explain it to him.

- Your phone, Jürgen, - soft voice brings him out of his thoughts - something that the loud accords of 'Ride of the Valciries' couldn't do.

- There's one thing that is... important. - Lothar's tone is carefully measured and even. - I need to talk to you.



- Congratulations, - through clenched teeth, and he can do nothing to help it.

- Not too sincere, are you, Markus? - Hansi states the obvious in gleeful tone. For two seconds he allows himself to entertain the thought of beating Flick up severely enough to make him forget his mocking.

Ah, no use. But the thought is so pleasing.

- I've congratulated you. What else?

No, he's not sincere. It was Jogi's team that was mocked, it was Flick's team that won, and he surely can be forgiven for not feeling happy about it.

Pettiness notwithstanding, is he supposed to celebrate the fact that Flick has just beaten his brother.

And he'll be damned if Flick doesn't know what he is thinking right now.

Maybe - judging by his laughter - he's already learned to read people's thoughts. Wouldn't put it past him.

- Now? And now to the serious business. I need to tell you something.

His heart plummets down, and all because he knows - whatever it may be, Flick is up to no good.

- Tell, - he answers, trying to sound nonchalant.

- No. - And the absence of laughter makes him even more uneasy. - It's going to be serious. I need to talk to you.



She can be a real handful at times, and when she's in this mood it is easier to do whatever she wants then to justify the refusal to do it.

It's a useful quality to have, if you're a pretty woman and have to find out something but have no clue where to start. Smile helplessly, sigh, look a bit dejected and make your problem into someone else's quest.

This is how she's got the phone number of a woman she's never even seen once, and, to be honest, never had a desire to see before. But the whim stroke suddenly, and now she's dialing the phone and wondering a little about her own reasons.


The phone startles her - she's already gathered her papers and said goodbye to the chef when it started ringing. She considers the idea of leaving anyway, starts for the door, then runs back suddenly and picks up a phone.

- Frau Löw?

Woman's voice is unfamiliar and she's speaking correctly, albeit with the heavy accent.

- Yes, - maybe one of the clients got her numbers messed up, and in this case she'll simply direct her to the department she needs and go home. She pulls the phone book closer.

- You don't know me, my name is Marijana. I have something important to discuss with you.

- What? - She answers harshly.

- It's personal. Will you be able to meet with me somewhere in town? I need to talk to you.





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