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: of gifts and flowers.

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 

Alle Rosen Dieser Welt


- Hey.

- Hey.

- Got a lighter?

- Here you go.

- Thanks, you’re the man! – Cheerful smile, and the guy disappears in the shadowy passway. Not recognizing him, obviously – which is, to be honest, for the better. As of now.

As far as he’s concerned, being so unimportant and invisible that disappearing in the crowd becomes ridiculously easy is the greatest of gifts. At times. At least when all you need is to hide from everything that is your life.

Oh, but who is he kidding? He’s just trying to hide from himself.

Damned escapist.

Well, as long as there is humor to be found in his predicament… Hope springs eternal.


Just a sound of key turning in the lock, the door opens – and he is… Well, home. And wondering what came upon him mere minutes ago and if it was really a good idea to wonder the streets of an unfamiliar town at sunset and overanalyzing his own feelings. And how many people ended up in a psych ward because they were trying too hard to get to the motives behind their own actions. Throwing a sweat-dampened shirt in a heap on the carpet, he turns the TV on. And – surely – gets another infomercial.

The babbling from the screen is barely audible when he turns the shower on, sound of falling water blocking the words out – though he wasn’t paying attention to them anyway. Blessed stream of hot water on his skin, such an amazing, beautiful, wonderful feeling.

Not bothering to even tie a towel around his hips he bites into the chocolate bar he’s grabbed from the nightstand, walks up to the window and pulls the curtains closed. Hops onto the bed, stretching, sighing in pleasure when the soft mattress adjusts to his weight. Spares another glance to the TV. Smirks, seeing the overly-enthusiastic women hyping up some cooking tool that is probably as useful as last year’s snow… Though the more talkative of the three has a very nice figure. Oh yessss, very, very nice. Which totally makes up for their incessant blabbering.

He rolls over onto his stomach.


His hand is dangling loosely over the side of the bed, above the half-filled glass that is standing on the carpet. The ice is melting slowly, he’s spent a bit of time watching the cubes lose their shape – and it was amusing. He’s easily amused today and he is nowhere near drunk. Has no intention to be too, because the day is funny – as it is.

He’s watched – or rather pointedly avoided watching – one particularly annoying infomercial with some sort of magic screw-driver as the Best And Most Useful Thing In The World. And now he’s just lying prone on the bed and waiting for his phone to ring. Because he’s asked Markus to call. And he knows that Markus will.


The phone starts ringing right when the picture on the screen changes to a heavy golden ring with shiny stones. He smirks at the significance – a good omen it should be, why not?

- I can’t come tomorrow, - Markus’s words are clipped, he almost spits them out, showing off his unhappiness.

- You’ve promised, - he chuckles lazily and picks up a glass.

- I can’t. It’s a business trip and it’s important.

- Maaarkuuuus… - He laughs.

- I’ll be here in two days.

He laughs. And sips his scotch, looking closely at the ring that is all over the screen again. It will look great on Markus. If it wasn’t so cheap…

And he’ll have to buy new roses, instead of those standing on the bedside table, because these ones won’t look good again.

He smiles and puts the glass back.

He’ll do it – and many more pleasant chores – tomorrow. The more time for preparation, the better.

Sighing contently, he drops his head on the pillow.





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