darrus (darrus) wrote,

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Coach OTP fic - Perhaps Love

It's not a standalone, and some of the requirements are not met, so I think I'll have to try again :))) But anyway.


: darrus
Fandom: German National team
Pairing: Klinsmann/Loew, various
Rating: R 
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: Let's waste time chasing cars around our heads... Joachim's POV

Author's notes, previous chapters and music here

Timeline for the series is here 

Chasing Cars


I may have looked a bit tired – but it’s only because when we’ve finally settled down for the night, it was rather early morning already.

He was kissing me slowly, lips trailing gently down my spine, and God help me I was melting right there and then, moaning in response to his touches. His hand was stroking my balls lightly, and I felt his laughter with all of my body. And felt his desire too, his trembling fingers, and it drove me mad like it always does. Like always when he exhales my name and bends his legs to make it easier for me to take him.

And I love seeing his eyes in such moments. They are like fire – blue fire, with such hunger in their depth that matches mine.

And I love to be inside of him and feel his hands grip my shoulders with bruising force, and hear his half-moans, half-screams in return for my passion.

I love him – but that is so obvious that it isn’t worth mentioning anymore.


We’ve had no more then two hours of sleep left, and we didn’t get even that in the end. He’s made himself comfortable using my shoulder for a pillow, and while he was talking his breath was tickling my skin, and I was whispering my answers in his hair, almost kissing the soft strands. It should have looked so cozy… I would never admit to anyone that I’ve spent the early hours this way. And I was giggling like a teenager too because he kept accusing me of evasion – yes, I was evading like mad because he wanted to bet with me about the outcome of the match and I didn’t want to because I’ve already had bets with Olli and Andy. Jürgen kept prodding me, even asked if wine is still our usual stake and even promised to get a really good Californian wine in case he loses, but I was having none of it – it was much too much fun to have him bragging about everything he could think of all the while trying to persuade me to do what he wants. I’ve silenced him with the kiss finally, and we’ve kissed all the way through the whining of my alarm-clock, and then all the way through his.


Hansi looked at me knowingly and smirked, and Olli demanded to know why my smile is so smug when I’m looking like death warmed over in every other respect. I just told him to bugger off – I was not in the mood even for a mock-fight – I was feeling like I am walking over the clouds.

And in some way I was.

Jürgen has it over me – this ability to make me feel head and shoulders above the rest of the world just by being there, by being mine. I don’t know, maybe it is bad. But even if it is – I don’t think I’ll be willing to care.

When I came to München I’ve had plans – first point being talking to him seriously about great lot of things. I wanted to know how we stand. I wanted him to tell me why it is that I feel like being left out more often then not. And why it sometimes seems that we’re not together anymore.

And I’ve got my answers – though no words were spoken about the subject. I’ve seen his eyes light up when he first looked at me. And then he was in my arms. And then he was looked at me with tenderness and love. And then his lips were devouring mine. And then we were rolling over the bed, trying to dispose of my shirt. And then he was laughing at the story I was telling. And then he argued with me over tactics. And then we were kissing again.


‘Daydreaming’, I’ve heard Olli muttering behind my back.

‘Leave the man be’, Hansi’s answer was equally quiet. ‘He of all people deserves all the happiness there is’.


They were talking about me – no, gossiping about me standing maybe three steps apart from me, and I haven’s even told them to stop because… Because they were right and because I trust them. And it is comforting – in a very personal way – that my friends know about my love and that they are on my side.


I remember ‘Bayern’ playing with the National team, I was there – we were there. We were there together, on the same stadium, and then we – Jürgen, but I was with him, so that is ‘we’ – we’ve lost that day. Not a good memory to have.

All the time leading up to the match I was thinking how it would feel to be on different sides with him. I was having a lot of time contemplating it two years ago, when Jürgen almost got his deal with USA and the prospect of meeting him in a match some day was very real – but I wasn’t expecting to play against a club coach. I think I’ve majorly underestimated the fact that the club in question is from München.

I’ve expected it to feel like rivalry. I was almost sure it would hurt, like betrayal hurts – yes, even in these terms. Fighting against someone who was once standing shoulder to shoulder with you – it should have hurt, right?

There was none of it. We were sitting on our benches and laughing at each other. Jürgen saluted me with the bottle. I’ve made a kissing gesture at one point. I didn’t even care that the match was boring because for me it wasn’t. It was so great I was amused myself. Hansi was whispering behind me, asking rhetorical questions about my blonde – and I was doing my best not to laugh. Was doing too well – later I was told that we both were looking grumpy in the interview.

Maybe we were. At that point all I wanted was to be back in the hotel. And Jürgen wanted to sleep.

Matches ended in a draw by the way – the perfect result. I hate losing, as does he. But the victory over him would have felt too much like a loss.


He’s got his sleep, and I’ve got to lie beside him looking at his relaxed face. And then we’ve spent the rest of the night chatting. Nonsense, real nonsense, just hearing each other’s voices. And only in the morning he’s told me he’s having troubles sleeping lately.

I’ve promised him to come back as soon as I can. And he smiled.

And there was nothing else I needed to hear.


Under the tribunes Olli slapped me on the shoulder and articulated ‘daydreamer’ with his lips before grinning and hurrying to his place.

‘Too bad Lichtenstein’s coach is not a blonde’, whispered Hansi in my ear, trying to hold back the laughter.

And this time we’ve won.





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