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: match with Turkey brings back some memories - for Joachim and not only for him...

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 

Journey to the Past


It was said that Sultan Ahmed was one of the greatest rulers the Earth has ever seen. And to prove that he's above all laws, human and divine alike, he's decided to build a temple - greater than everything that exists in a human world.


It's just a story, legend for tourists. Historians know that Ahmed was not too successful of a ruler – to say the least. And even those who ever read anything about that the only reason why Ahmed suddenly decided to become a temple-builder is his political differences with the powers residing in Mecca, and proving the power of his position, State above Temple, was the main task.


It's still standing there, in the heart of an old town. Ahmedië, the Blue Mosque, right behind the great dome of Hagia Sophia and as similar as mosque can be to the Christian church. Six tall minarets flank the courtyard, spears aimed at the sky above.


It is said that Ahmed decided to disobey the unwritten law - that at any mosque there shouldn't be more minarets then in Mecca. That's why he's ordered to build six of them. State above Temple, his law above the desires of theocrats.


It is said also that bargains took years, but nothing could sway the proud Sultan. Realizing that no other choice is left, the mosque in Mecca was reconstructed, and two more towers added - seven it was now against Ahmed's six. Temple above State.


And more, it is said that upon learning about it Sultan Ahmed was in rage, and again the building site came alive. Two more minarets were to be added to the impressive Blue Mosque to reaffirm the position - State above Temple. And maybe 'the war of minarets' would have continued if not for Ahmed's death. So six spears it is still, still one less then Mecca, symbol of unfulfilled ambition - but also a great building, one of the most beautiful in the city of Istanbul.


Istanbul is filled with legends, living in a great past and great present alike. When he was living there, it felt sometimes like Constantinople, but then again, sometimes it was Istanbul in all its glory. The way the mood strikes, the books that lie on the bedside table, people he's talking with - everything was a part of how he felt the 'here an now', and every time it was different.


He's asked the others – people around him - if they felt like this too. Some laughed. Some claimed that there is nothing but ancient Constantinople here. The guide who was showing them around at the first day of his life here looked at him - or rather through him - with her pale-green eyes and told him that it's Byzantium that still lives inside - it made him dug into the history books and for a month at least his reading almost entirely consisted of this sort of literature. Daniela has never seen anything but Istanbul in this city, but loved it almost as much as Freiburg. Hansi is saying that - by his memories - it's 'Constantinople under the sun and Istanbul under the rain'. And Jürgen shrugged and said only one word - 'Empire'.


And then there were rivers of blood.


No Empires ever lived without claiming thousands of lives. The biggest riot was under the reign of Justinian the Great - thirty thousands killed on the stadium that was painted red back then, many centuries ago, this too he has read in his history books, still on the first month of his life in Turkey - and great cathedral of Sophia is a fitting monument for them.


And even though now the blood doesn't flow on the streets of Istanbul, there are red rivers still. A bowl filled with blood... His first impression at the stadium, at his first match, that has stayed with him ever since. And the words he's whispered, entering the pulsating, living - as it seemed at the time - arena. Something he's read in the book but something he could have thought up himself. 'Live as you fight a battle, fight as you live a life'.


The pathos subsided later, the feeling stayed. It is coming back now. Looking at the schemes on the magnet board, he sees the blood-red stadium beneath it...


And anticipation is creeping in. He's reveling into the upcoming challenge.


Since the moment he’s come to work with the National Team, his past seems to be trying to catch up with him. Stuttgart – triumph and tragedy. Switzerland – as at the beginning of his career. Austria – victories. Now Turkey…


Olli is teasing him, ('never imagined you being all sentimental, Jogi'). Hansi laughs and talks about Turkish fan groups with a knowledge that shows careful preparation and, as clearly, a very recent acquaintance with the subject. And Daniela is calling him fifty times a day to remind about some little detail from their life in Turkey - most of these things he doesn't remember, to his shame... He's already promised her a vacation in Istanbul...


But if something goes wrong, if there's something in the match that goes wrong...


There are the only thoughts he doesn't allow himself to think.







: 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: it's a beautiful day, it's a beautiful morning... Juergen's quiet homecoming.

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 

Coming Home


“Four Seasons” the hotel is called.


There are bouquets in every room. Roses and daffodils, five big sunflowers that look indeed like little suns. In the bedroom there are three delicate pink roses in glass bowl, and it looks so out of place in the baroque decorations of the suite, and at the same time so perfectly fitting… Designers earn their money – could he be saying if he was in the cynical mood. It happens to him, rarely but happens. Perfect symbol of life – that could be his thought if he was looking at these tender roses while in a helplessly romantic state of mind, which is even more of a rare occurrence, but still strikes him sometimes. Now he just bends down to inhale a delicate aroma and goes further to open the window and look down, at the city below.


Evening descends on München, last splashes of sunset colors are burning out in the sky, purple and orange hues making way to the sapphire-blue twilight. Streetlights are already on, and some windows are glowing with the warm light, and sounds of traffic from the street are strangely comforting.


He sighs, light wind playing with his hair.


Not for the first time this year he’s in this town, and he’s spent a different amount of time on each of his visits here since January, but only now he realizes – this is going to be his new… no, already is his new home.


‘New’… He laughs out loud. It’s a laughter of a young man, carefree, with joy in every sound. He’s already feeling himself at home here, as if he’s never left. Maybe it’s because he’s finally came to stay, or maybe the time is right. This feeling wasn’t here in May, but it is here now.


He is home.


Even though the part of him – maybe a large part of him even – will forever stay on the golden sands of an ocean beach. But now…


He grips the windowpane, leaning down to look at the streets underneath him, at the crowd on the pavements, big neon letters – the name of a restaurant, cars moving back and forth… Somewhere in this crowd there are familiar faces, and every turn of these streets is still familiar to him, and there are memories too…


So many memories. He sits down on the bed, and soft mattress is like heaven when he lies down, hands under his head. The ceiling is covered with arabesques – blue, green and golden patterns swirling all over the white panels. So intricate, so beautiful, and he feels his mind start to wonder while his eyes follow the complicated traces.


Memories. Good and bad, enough of both sorts, but it’s the ability of our mind – even bad things in retrospect seem to be better than it really was at the time when feelings were still fresh… He remembers leaving München back then, angry and distracted, and remembers the reasons for it – can recite them from the memory, but these feelings that were so hurtful – he’s unable to recreate them, even if the stupid idea to try will come to his mind.


He’s not exactly starting from scratch. And not all the people he’ll be working with are his best friends, some of them he’s never even going to trust… But that’s not the point.


Everything is not the point, it’s just the overflow of feeling. Homecoming of sorts, not exactly, but as close as it may be. Not to his town, not even to his own home – he’ll be living in the hotel for now, alone – Debbie and children will come later, it was her choice… But for a man who’s never thought he’ll come back to live in Germany ever again, it is enough to wax sentimental.


And he’s not going to be ashamed of it, for sure… But tomorrow he won’t tell anyone what he was thinking about this evening in a half-lit hotel suite.



Knock on the door, and Martin is standing in the corridor, sunglasses in hands and towel draped over his shoulders.


“Up for a run?” Smiles the Mexican instead of greeting. Martin is speaking German – these last two months they speak only German even when there are only two of them together. Martin need practice, and shows a tremendous progress from week to week.


“I am. Good morning”, he grabs a bottle of water from the table and follows his friend outside.


The sun is shining, already warm though it’s still early in the day. They are not the only runners here, jogging at a moderate pace.


In silence, under the trees, watching the golden sunlight. There’s no need to talk, it’s comfortable enough to jog alongside each other and look around, listening to the birds singing and people chat, and the music playing somewhere – light, easy music.


Drying his hair with a towel after the shower, he smiles – at nothing in particular, just because he likes to smile and the day is worth it – and sees his smile reflected on Martin’s face.


The thought appears suddenly – he needs to call Guido, and better do it before the breakfast. It’s bad enough that some of his friends will learn that he’s in Germany from newspapers, worse that Guido will be one of them – he was unable to reach him on the phone three, two days ago, and yesterday there wasn’t much time…


And for the umpteenth time he notices how much Martin reminds him of Guido. And how much this thought pleases him.


“What are our plans for today?” He asks, while Martin finishes with the shoelaces.


“Your plans are to rest and make yourself comfortable around here”, Martin’s words are slow, with enough authority and at the same time a joke hiding somewhere. “And as for my plans… You’ll learn about them from newspapers”.


He laughs. And Martin laughs. And they start back to the hotel.





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