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clo_againI know. I promised tennis slash. But packing took longer than I expected and the one I wanted to post isn't really finished enough to be worth it. So instead... have the first part of the plot bunny ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mercury32 gave me a week or so ago.
Title: Bounty
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Fandom: Tennis/Olympics 2004
Summary: Andy’s got a $500 bounty on his head and Roger seems to find it very amusing.
Notes: Set Thursday August 19th, the day after Andy lost his match to Fernando Gonzalez of Chile. Roger lost the Tuesday in both the doubles and singles. This is inspired by the bet the Australian women had going during the Olympics; first one to land a kiss on Andy Roddick got $500. UNFINISHED as of yet, sorry. I just wanted to leave you all with something before I went away for the week. Plus, opinions are very welcome.
Bounty
With a groan, Andy turned over in bed, burying his head under the sheets. His mattress was hard, the sun shining through the window was too hot and he was out of the Olympics. Without even opening his eyes, he knew the day was going to suck.
The room was suspiciously quiet; poking his head over the sheet he saw the bed opposite was an empty pile of tangled blankets. Mardy must’ve left already. Andy quashed a spark of bitterness that his roommate actually had something to leave the room for; he was happy his fellow Americans were doing well, he really was.
He just would’ve liked to be doing well with them.
The bed was too hard to stay in now he was awake. With muttered curses on sports, Olympics and life itself, Andy half climbed-half fell onto the floor. So he had a few free days. He could go support his team mates or he could explore Athens and forgot a little about being a loser. Hhmm.
“Explore,” he announced to the empty room and reached for his towel.
~
The communal showers across the hall were empty this late in the morning, most of the athletes having left earlier to prepare for events or practice. Andy hummed a rude song to himself as he searched his bag for shampoo. Coming up with only a bottle of peach scented bubble bath, he reflected that no one was going to get close enough to him today for it to matter. Lauren was off on a day trip to some ancient fort; she’d offered to cancel and spend some time with him but he’d known how much she was looking forward to the trip and said he’d be okay.
There was that bet the Aussie girls had going but hell, maybe the smell of peaches would be enough of a deterrent to keep them at a distance. Besides, he was worth far more than $500.
Should be $700 at least.
Singing quietly under his breath he ducked into the shower.
It was something of a shock to push back the shower curtain ten minutes later to find a towel-clad Roger Federer leaning against the sinks and staring at him blankly. Andy re-ran the lyrics of the song he’d just being singing – loudly - through his mind, decided the Swiss’ expression was understandable and dismissed it as something Roger should expect from him by now.
“Morning,” he greeted the other man as cheerfully as he could manage. “Great to sleep in eh?”
“Uh-huh.” Roger shrugged noncommittally then wrinkled his nose. “Do you smell peaches?”
Andy’s smile vanished. “No,” he growled and stomped out the room.
~
The cafeteria staff was busy clearing the debris of the morning rush when he sidled through the door. A quick survey of the room revealed neither any Aussies or a certain Swiss tennis player so Andy headed for the coffee pot with a sigh of relief. The happiness lasted all of ten seconds until he discovered there were no clean coffee mugs.
“Fuckit!”
Someone touched his shoulder and he leapt about a foot off the floor with a yell, fully expecting to be stampeded by hungry Aussie women at any moment. It was somewhat anticlimactic to turn and see Roger holding out a clean mug for him with a raised eyebrow. Andy eyed it as if it would bite him.
“I think perhaps you shouldn’t have any more caffeine,” Roger suggested when he’d been holding the mug out for a minute and Andy still hadn’t moved. “You seem a little jumpy.”
“Jumpy?! Me?” Andy took the offered mug with bad grace and poured himself a black coffee, burning his fingers on the handle and almost dropping it. Roger closed a hand over his to steady the pot before they both had a second shower, this time of boiling coffee.
“Definitely no caffeine for you this morning. Try the orange juice.”
“What are you, my mother?” Andy shook off the Swiss’ hand and took a deliberately long gulp of coffee, trying not to shriek when it burnt his tongue. Through watering eyes he could see Roger’s smirk.
“Not a word,” Andy warned him. “Not one fucking word.”
“Yes mother,” Roger replied, straight-faced. Andy came close to committing an international incident with cup of coffee and had to force himself to very carefully turn and walk away to the nearest table. Roger seemed unaware of how close he’d been to becoming intimately – and painfully - acquainted with Andy’s cup and followed.
“How are the Australians doing with their bet?” he remarked casually as he dropped into the chair opposite the American. Andy leapt on the chance for revenge.
“Aw, poor Roger,” he drawled sarcastically. “Are we jealous? Haven’t heard of anyone betting to kiss you.”
The smirk was back along with a raised eyebrow that somehow made the entire expression more mocking. “If you’ve quite finished being childish…”
“Why yes, mother,” Andy shot back. He was starting to get more than a little irritated by now - mornings weren’t his strong point.
“Touché.” Roger leaned back in his chair, the smirk not quite growing into a true smile. “So?”
“So what?” Andy slammed his coffee cup down and was a little surprised to see the Swiss flinch back. “Christ, sorry. I’m in a bad fucking mood this morning.” He took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead under his hat to fight off the beginnings of a headache. “They haven’t got near me yet.”
The smirk had definitely grown into a smile now. “I’d watch out today. I heard they’re planning something big.”
“Who told you that?” Andy demanded. Last thing he needed today was paranoia about being stalked by lust-crazed Australians. Knowing his luck the ‘something big’ was to knock him out with a didgeridoo and stuff him in a suitcase to take home.
Brad would not be impressed… though he might be laughing too hard to get that across.
“A little bird told me.” Roger got to his feet, reaching up to push a few strands of dark hair out his eyes. “If I don’t see you later I’ll know they got to you.”
“Very reassuring, thanks,” Andy yelled after him as he walked away. Only when he’d watched the doors swing closed behind the Swiss did he get to his feet, leaving his half-finished coffee on the table. ‘Something big’. That could mean anything.
“Jesus Christ, that man fucking pisses me off,” he muttered to himself as he headed out of the cafeteria.
*
Wandering through the Plaka half an hour later he was feeling a little better. The air was hot but bearably so and the flower girls lining the street kept smiling at him. So worth more than $500. He’d spent a few euros on some pretty postcards to send home to make the siblings jealous and been talked into buying a hideously overpriced gardenia from a girl with the longest eyelashes he’d ever seen. He twirled it absently between his fingertips as he wandered a little aimlessly further up the street. It was lined with quaint cafes and tourist shops selling everything from gold jewellery to postcards; Andy could practically feel his money burning a hole in his pocket just walking past them.
He was idly debating which cafe to visit for his second dose of caffeine of the morning when, for no apparent reason, an image of Roger’s smirk flashed through his mind. He had barely a second to wonder why when he realised there was a familiar voice speaking to his left in somewhat halting Greek. He spun furiously on his heel and stalked over to the table where Roger was sitting.
“Are you following me or something?” he demanded furiously.
Dark eyes blinked, innocently confused. The waiter the Swiss had been speaking to retreated a few steps warily back from the palpable fury coming from Andy. “I would point out that I was here first but you might bite my head off.”
Andy’s mouth was open before he realised he had no ready comeback. A second later he realised he was brandishing the wilting gardenia threateningly and somewhat ridiculously at Roger. He was starting to lose count of the times the Swiss had made him feel stupid so far today.
And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
“I’m sorry if I’m annoying you.” Roger’s smile was sweet and innocent and just a little too bright. “Sit. Have coffee with me.”
“We tried this once already.” Andy was trying hard to stay mad when faced with such a smile. “I almost killed you at least three times in the space of five minutes.”
“Only three?” Roger raised an eyebrow a fraction, his smile edging over into smirk territory again. “I’ll have to try harder.”
Andy hovered a second longer then irritation gave way beneath the weight of the Swiss’ charm. “You fucking bastard,” he remarked without any real rancour, effortlessly swinging his legs over the fence separating the café from the street. He reversed the chair opposite Roger and sat on it backwards, arms resting over the back on the table. “So, what coffee are you buying me?”
Roger didn’t miss a beat. “What would you like?”
“I don’t know. What’s the most expensive?” Andy watched for a reaction and didn’t get one except perhaps a slight quirk to the ever-present smile. “Dammit either share the drugs or share the joke man; I’ve never seen you grin so much before.”
“Can’t I be amused once in a while?” Roger asked politely, plucking the flower from Andy’s hand and taking a deep breath of the delicate scent, brushing the petals against his cheek. Andy narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“No. It’s freaking me out.” A thought occurred to him and he pushed his chair back, abruptly wary. “If this has anything to do with those Australians and whatever they’re planning-“
“Of course not.” Roger leaned over to tuck the flower behind Andy’s ear, the white petals tickling the side of his face, his tone turning teasing as he sat back to survey his handiwork. “Now order your coffee and be civilized for once Yank.”
Andy could see the flower out the corner of his eye, a distracting blur of white underneath the shade of his hat. It was enough to make him miss the faintly mocking tone of Roger’s voice; instead he turned his head trying to see the gardenia better. He just ended up almost sliding off his chair. “Is there a reason for what you just did or…”
Roger shrugged. “It makes you look pretty,” he offered, sounding utterly serious.
“Really?” The sarcasm dripping from Andy’s tone would’ve curdled milk. “Why thank you; just what I’ve always wanted.”
“You’re welcome,” Roger answered absently, glancing over to catch the waiter’s attention. “Decided what you want yet?”
Andy sighed. This was silly and stupid and he saw enough of the man on-court anyway without hanging around him on his days off. “A walk.” He stood up, resettling his hat without dislodging the flower. “Are you going to follow me all day?” he demanded without really expecting a truthful answer. Roger looked up at him, shading his eyes against the sun with his hand.
“That depends on if you go to the same places I want to go.”
“Which means ‘yes’,” Andy muttered, turning to leave. He didn’t need to look back to see Roger’s grin or hear the quiet answer.
“Perhaps.”
~
On reflection, walking up to the Acropolis just as the day was getting hot hadn’t been the best of ideas. Andy sat down under a dusty olive tree halfway up to catch his breath and fan himself with one hand. He was really regretting not taking Roger up on that offer of a coffee. Sweat was sticking his t-shirt to his back; with a grimace he peeled it away from his skin and flapped it in a futile attempt to dry the soaked cotton. Stupid country. Stupid bodily fluids. Stupid Roger.
“Tired yet?”
The yelp of shock was out before Andy realised the Swiss appearing out of nowhere shouldn’t really surprise him anymore. He glared up from where he’d fallen backwards in the dust. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that. Asshole.”
“If you were anyone else, I’d be offended.” Roger brought a bottle of water out from behind his back and held it out like a peace offering. “May I sit?”
Andy eyed the water bottle. His pride was insisting he tell the Swiss where to stick his water and sod off. His common sense retorted that he was fucking thirsty and pride could go jump off the Acropolis. There was a brief, brutal war from which common sense emerged bruised but triumphant. Andy grabbed the water and motioned for Roger to sit.
“Thanks.” The other man sank gratefully down next to him and Andy felt a little smug when he noticed Roger’s shirt was equally sweat-soaked. Only human after all. He closed his eyes to pour half the water over his head and opened them a second later to find Roger watching him with a small smile.
“Y’know if you were a fan, I’d have had you arrested for stalking by now,” Andy remarked, capping the bottle and leaning back on his elbows, enjoying the cool water trickling down his neck. A moment later he was sitting upright again, removing an offending olive from under his back. “Ouch. Stupid tree.” He knew Roger was smirking without bothering to look up. “Laugh and I pelt you with olives.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Roger leaned back and stretched his legs out, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. Andy debated pouring the water over him in revenge for being stalked but thirst won and he tossed the olive over at the Swiss instead. One dark eye cracked open to glare at him.
“So, why’re you stalking me?” Andy wriggled backwards to lean against the tree, stretching out his legs, ignoring the fact his thigh pressed against Roger’s shoulder. The Swiss didn’t seem to mind, tilting his head sideways a little so he could look at the American.
“I told you. You just happen to be going the same way as me.”
“Bullshit,” Andy commented but didn’t have the energy to push it further. “Do you promise to tell me before the end of the day?”
“Do you promise to behave?” Roger answered reflectively. Andy opened his mouth to say yes then hesitated. Could he honestly behave himself for an entire day? He caught sight of the smirk lurking behind Roger’s smile and decided it’d be worth it just to prove to the Swiss he could.
“Well… yeah. Okay I guess.”
“Then yes, I’ll tell you before the end of the day.” Roger closed his eyes again, leaning back on his elbows.
~
I promise to spend at least part of the week finishing it. Calls for postcards are now closed (which is good; I've got about thirty to send o_O) and I'm off for an hour or so's sleep before I head off to catch my flight.
And I can't remember goodbye in German yet so I'll stick to Italian.
Arrivederla! See you all a week tomorrow!
Clo
mercury32 gave me a week or so ago.Title: Bounty
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Fandom: Tennis/Olympics 2004
Summary: Andy’s got a $500 bounty on his head and Roger seems to find it very amusing.
Notes: Set Thursday August 19th, the day after Andy lost his match to Fernando Gonzalez of Chile. Roger lost the Tuesday in both the doubles and singles. This is inspired by the bet the Australian women had going during the Olympics; first one to land a kiss on Andy Roddick got $500. UNFINISHED as of yet, sorry. I just wanted to leave you all with something before I went away for the week. Plus, opinions are very welcome.
Bounty
With a groan, Andy turned over in bed, burying his head under the sheets. His mattress was hard, the sun shining through the window was too hot and he was out of the Olympics. Without even opening his eyes, he knew the day was going to suck.
The room was suspiciously quiet; poking his head over the sheet he saw the bed opposite was an empty pile of tangled blankets. Mardy must’ve left already. Andy quashed a spark of bitterness that his roommate actually had something to leave the room for; he was happy his fellow Americans were doing well, he really was.
He just would’ve liked to be doing well with them.
The bed was too hard to stay in now he was awake. With muttered curses on sports, Olympics and life itself, Andy half climbed-half fell onto the floor. So he had a few free days. He could go support his team mates or he could explore Athens and forgot a little about being a loser. Hhmm.
“Explore,” he announced to the empty room and reached for his towel.
~
The communal showers across the hall were empty this late in the morning, most of the athletes having left earlier to prepare for events or practice. Andy hummed a rude song to himself as he searched his bag for shampoo. Coming up with only a bottle of peach scented bubble bath, he reflected that no one was going to get close enough to him today for it to matter. Lauren was off on a day trip to some ancient fort; she’d offered to cancel and spend some time with him but he’d known how much she was looking forward to the trip and said he’d be okay.
There was that bet the Aussie girls had going but hell, maybe the smell of peaches would be enough of a deterrent to keep them at a distance. Besides, he was worth far more than $500.
Should be $700 at least.
Singing quietly under his breath he ducked into the shower.
It was something of a shock to push back the shower curtain ten minutes later to find a towel-clad Roger Federer leaning against the sinks and staring at him blankly. Andy re-ran the lyrics of the song he’d just being singing – loudly - through his mind, decided the Swiss’ expression was understandable and dismissed it as something Roger should expect from him by now.
“Morning,” he greeted the other man as cheerfully as he could manage. “Great to sleep in eh?”
“Uh-huh.” Roger shrugged noncommittally then wrinkled his nose. “Do you smell peaches?”
Andy’s smile vanished. “No,” he growled and stomped out the room.
~
The cafeteria staff was busy clearing the debris of the morning rush when he sidled through the door. A quick survey of the room revealed neither any Aussies or a certain Swiss tennis player so Andy headed for the coffee pot with a sigh of relief. The happiness lasted all of ten seconds until he discovered there were no clean coffee mugs.
“Fuckit!”
Someone touched his shoulder and he leapt about a foot off the floor with a yell, fully expecting to be stampeded by hungry Aussie women at any moment. It was somewhat anticlimactic to turn and see Roger holding out a clean mug for him with a raised eyebrow. Andy eyed it as if it would bite him.
“I think perhaps you shouldn’t have any more caffeine,” Roger suggested when he’d been holding the mug out for a minute and Andy still hadn’t moved. “You seem a little jumpy.”
“Jumpy?! Me?” Andy took the offered mug with bad grace and poured himself a black coffee, burning his fingers on the handle and almost dropping it. Roger closed a hand over his to steady the pot before they both had a second shower, this time of boiling coffee.
“Definitely no caffeine for you this morning. Try the orange juice.”
“What are you, my mother?” Andy shook off the Swiss’ hand and took a deliberately long gulp of coffee, trying not to shriek when it burnt his tongue. Through watering eyes he could see Roger’s smirk.
“Not a word,” Andy warned him. “Not one fucking word.”
“Yes mother,” Roger replied, straight-faced. Andy came close to committing an international incident with cup of coffee and had to force himself to very carefully turn and walk away to the nearest table. Roger seemed unaware of how close he’d been to becoming intimately – and painfully - acquainted with Andy’s cup and followed.
“How are the Australians doing with their bet?” he remarked casually as he dropped into the chair opposite the American. Andy leapt on the chance for revenge.
“Aw, poor Roger,” he drawled sarcastically. “Are we jealous? Haven’t heard of anyone betting to kiss you.”
The smirk was back along with a raised eyebrow that somehow made the entire expression more mocking. “If you’ve quite finished being childish…”
“Why yes, mother,” Andy shot back. He was starting to get more than a little irritated by now - mornings weren’t his strong point.
“Touché.” Roger leaned back in his chair, the smirk not quite growing into a true smile. “So?”
“So what?” Andy slammed his coffee cup down and was a little surprised to see the Swiss flinch back. “Christ, sorry. I’m in a bad fucking mood this morning.” He took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead under his hat to fight off the beginnings of a headache. “They haven’t got near me yet.”
The smirk had definitely grown into a smile now. “I’d watch out today. I heard they’re planning something big.”
“Who told you that?” Andy demanded. Last thing he needed today was paranoia about being stalked by lust-crazed Australians. Knowing his luck the ‘something big’ was to knock him out with a didgeridoo and stuff him in a suitcase to take home.
Brad would not be impressed… though he might be laughing too hard to get that across.
“A little bird told me.” Roger got to his feet, reaching up to push a few strands of dark hair out his eyes. “If I don’t see you later I’ll know they got to you.”
“Very reassuring, thanks,” Andy yelled after him as he walked away. Only when he’d watched the doors swing closed behind the Swiss did he get to his feet, leaving his half-finished coffee on the table. ‘Something big’. That could mean anything.
“Jesus Christ, that man fucking pisses me off,” he muttered to himself as he headed out of the cafeteria.
*
Wandering through the Plaka half an hour later he was feeling a little better. The air was hot but bearably so and the flower girls lining the street kept smiling at him. So worth more than $500. He’d spent a few euros on some pretty postcards to send home to make the siblings jealous and been talked into buying a hideously overpriced gardenia from a girl with the longest eyelashes he’d ever seen. He twirled it absently between his fingertips as he wandered a little aimlessly further up the street. It was lined with quaint cafes and tourist shops selling everything from gold jewellery to postcards; Andy could practically feel his money burning a hole in his pocket just walking past them.
He was idly debating which cafe to visit for his second dose of caffeine of the morning when, for no apparent reason, an image of Roger’s smirk flashed through his mind. He had barely a second to wonder why when he realised there was a familiar voice speaking to his left in somewhat halting Greek. He spun furiously on his heel and stalked over to the table where Roger was sitting.
“Are you following me or something?” he demanded furiously.
Dark eyes blinked, innocently confused. The waiter the Swiss had been speaking to retreated a few steps warily back from the palpable fury coming from Andy. “I would point out that I was here first but you might bite my head off.”
Andy’s mouth was open before he realised he had no ready comeback. A second later he realised he was brandishing the wilting gardenia threateningly and somewhat ridiculously at Roger. He was starting to lose count of the times the Swiss had made him feel stupid so far today.
And it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
“I’m sorry if I’m annoying you.” Roger’s smile was sweet and innocent and just a little too bright. “Sit. Have coffee with me.”
“We tried this once already.” Andy was trying hard to stay mad when faced with such a smile. “I almost killed you at least three times in the space of five minutes.”
“Only three?” Roger raised an eyebrow a fraction, his smile edging over into smirk territory again. “I’ll have to try harder.”
Andy hovered a second longer then irritation gave way beneath the weight of the Swiss’ charm. “You fucking bastard,” he remarked without any real rancour, effortlessly swinging his legs over the fence separating the café from the street. He reversed the chair opposite Roger and sat on it backwards, arms resting over the back on the table. “So, what coffee are you buying me?”
Roger didn’t miss a beat. “What would you like?”
“I don’t know. What’s the most expensive?” Andy watched for a reaction and didn’t get one except perhaps a slight quirk to the ever-present smile. “Dammit either share the drugs or share the joke man; I’ve never seen you grin so much before.”
“Can’t I be amused once in a while?” Roger asked politely, plucking the flower from Andy’s hand and taking a deep breath of the delicate scent, brushing the petals against his cheek. Andy narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“No. It’s freaking me out.” A thought occurred to him and he pushed his chair back, abruptly wary. “If this has anything to do with those Australians and whatever they’re planning-“
“Of course not.” Roger leaned over to tuck the flower behind Andy’s ear, the white petals tickling the side of his face, his tone turning teasing as he sat back to survey his handiwork. “Now order your coffee and be civilized for once Yank.”
Andy could see the flower out the corner of his eye, a distracting blur of white underneath the shade of his hat. It was enough to make him miss the faintly mocking tone of Roger’s voice; instead he turned his head trying to see the gardenia better. He just ended up almost sliding off his chair. “Is there a reason for what you just did or…”
Roger shrugged. “It makes you look pretty,” he offered, sounding utterly serious.
“Really?” The sarcasm dripping from Andy’s tone would’ve curdled milk. “Why thank you; just what I’ve always wanted.”
“You’re welcome,” Roger answered absently, glancing over to catch the waiter’s attention. “Decided what you want yet?”
Andy sighed. This was silly and stupid and he saw enough of the man on-court anyway without hanging around him on his days off. “A walk.” He stood up, resettling his hat without dislodging the flower. “Are you going to follow me all day?” he demanded without really expecting a truthful answer. Roger looked up at him, shading his eyes against the sun with his hand.
“That depends on if you go to the same places I want to go.”
“Which means ‘yes’,” Andy muttered, turning to leave. He didn’t need to look back to see Roger’s grin or hear the quiet answer.
“Perhaps.”
~
On reflection, walking up to the Acropolis just as the day was getting hot hadn’t been the best of ideas. Andy sat down under a dusty olive tree halfway up to catch his breath and fan himself with one hand. He was really regretting not taking Roger up on that offer of a coffee. Sweat was sticking his t-shirt to his back; with a grimace he peeled it away from his skin and flapped it in a futile attempt to dry the soaked cotton. Stupid country. Stupid bodily fluids. Stupid Roger.
“Tired yet?”
The yelp of shock was out before Andy realised the Swiss appearing out of nowhere shouldn’t really surprise him anymore. He glared up from where he’d fallen backwards in the dust. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that. Asshole.”
“If you were anyone else, I’d be offended.” Roger brought a bottle of water out from behind his back and held it out like a peace offering. “May I sit?”
Andy eyed the water bottle. His pride was insisting he tell the Swiss where to stick his water and sod off. His common sense retorted that he was fucking thirsty and pride could go jump off the Acropolis. There was a brief, brutal war from which common sense emerged bruised but triumphant. Andy grabbed the water and motioned for Roger to sit.
“Thanks.” The other man sank gratefully down next to him and Andy felt a little smug when he noticed Roger’s shirt was equally sweat-soaked. Only human after all. He closed his eyes to pour half the water over his head and opened them a second later to find Roger watching him with a small smile.
“Y’know if you were a fan, I’d have had you arrested for stalking by now,” Andy remarked, capping the bottle and leaning back on his elbows, enjoying the cool water trickling down his neck. A moment later he was sitting upright again, removing an offending olive from under his back. “Ouch. Stupid tree.” He knew Roger was smirking without bothering to look up. “Laugh and I pelt you with olives.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Roger leaned back and stretched his legs out, closing his eyes as he tilted his head back. Andy debated pouring the water over him in revenge for being stalked but thirst won and he tossed the olive over at the Swiss instead. One dark eye cracked open to glare at him.
“So, why’re you stalking me?” Andy wriggled backwards to lean against the tree, stretching out his legs, ignoring the fact his thigh pressed against Roger’s shoulder. The Swiss didn’t seem to mind, tilting his head sideways a little so he could look at the American.
“I told you. You just happen to be going the same way as me.”
“Bullshit,” Andy commented but didn’t have the energy to push it further. “Do you promise to tell me before the end of the day?”
“Do you promise to behave?” Roger answered reflectively. Andy opened his mouth to say yes then hesitated. Could he honestly behave himself for an entire day? He caught sight of the smirk lurking behind Roger’s smile and decided it’d be worth it just to prove to the Swiss he could.
“Well… yeah. Okay I guess.”
“Then yes, I’ll tell you before the end of the day.” Roger closed his eyes again, leaning back on his elbows.
~
I promise to spend at least part of the week finishing it. Calls for postcards are now closed (which is good; I've got about thirty to send o_O) and I'm off for an hour or so's sleep before I head off to catch my flight.
And I can't remember goodbye in German yet so I'll stick to Italian.
Arrivederla! See you all a week tomorrow!
Clo
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Goody-bye in German...
Date: 2004-09-10 07:32 pm (UTC)Good-bye in German is Aufwiedersehn, or Aufwiederhoren. The first means until we meet again, and the second until we speak again. Looks like three years of German class is good for something, other than knowing the Swiss speak German.
lirpa's still not disgusted sister,
shana
Re: Goody-bye in German...
Date: 2004-09-12 05:29 am (UTC)And we know you're disgusted deep down. ;-)
no subject
Date: 2004-09-13 04:44 am (UTC)Alun
no subject
Date: 2005-05-10 09:13 pm (UTC)*pets Andy* Poor baby, being stalked by Federer. However will you cope? *giggles*
Uhm, how many more to go?