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clo_againI don't want to call these 1-5 because that's stealing ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liroa15's labelling. So, as a a pathetic offering to avoid me getting murderered for lack of Bounty, here's tennis drabbles A-E.
Title: Tennis Drabbles/Mini-ficlets A-E
Rating: Around a high-ish PG-13
Pairing: Roddick/Federer (one day I'll do something different and surprise you)
Dedication: Toliroa15 for posting her wonderful drabbles and never ceasing to beg for more Bounty. I will get it written for her. And for shana0809 who also writes wonderful fic and who is responsible for getting me to (try) and use German in one or two of these. I wouldn't know what any of it meant without her - having said that, all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never happened to my knowledge. Am not implicating in any way that Andy Roddick and Roger Federer are doing naughty things to each other in hotel rooms. I'm just trying to deal with the overload of plot bunnies in my head.
~
A
Roger bites his lip. Hard. The metallic sting of blood floods his mouth but it’s better than moaning. Better than screaming. There’s a roomful of guys on the other side of the closet door chatting, laughing, preparing for matches. They probably haven’t noticed he’s missing yet.
But if they investigate yells coming from the closet they’ll probably wish they hadn’t thought to look.
A whimper slides through clenched teeth as Andy pins him against the wall. The American’s hand traces the hair down Roger’s chest with teasing fingertips; the Swiss tilts back his head and gasps as Andy finally touches him in earnest. Sweat makes everything slick and easy; hands sliding across skin in carefully random patterns. Roger shivers as the American leans in for a rough kiss.
“I’ll make you scream one day,” Andy promises in a whisper and it’s a challenge as well; Roger has to keep silent or he’ll have lost. He doesn’t lose to Andy. If he starts he’ll never stop.
So he just bites his lip and swallows the scream pressing against clenched teeth.
~
B
They so rarely get to sleep beside each other.
Roger never sleeps enough. Every year he promises himself next year will be different and every Christmas he’s almost too exhausted to get out of bed. There’s always something else he needs to do and when he runs out of hours in the day, sleep is the first thing to go.
Not this year. This year sleep is top of the list. (Well, maybe second.) Because lying in bed with Andy Roddick curled against him feels better than winning a hundred Slams.
He loves Andy using him as a pillow while murmuring in his sleep. Sometimes Roger hears him growl something in German and it makes Roger smile. Andy is never going to speak fluent German but he knows it makes Roger happy to see him trying so he perseveres. Roger loves him for that and never laughs when Andy pronounces the words completely wrong.
He may smirk a little but he never laughs.
Andy wriggles closer into the curve of Roger’s body and the Swiss pulls the blankets further over them both for warmth. Andy is beautiful when he sleeps. Roger can’t resist sliding close enough to press a kiss into soft blond hair.
“Danke liebling,” Andy murmurs, sliding a possessive arm around Roger’s waist. The Swiss allows himself a small smile and closes his eyes, lips pressed lightly to Andy’s forehead.
He loves it when they can sleep beside each other.
~
C
Andy’s slamming everything he’s got into hitting that tennis ball. He can feel his arm and back aching from the force but he doesn’t stop. Across court Roger’s barely hanging on by the tips of his fingers and all Andy has to do is keep this up for another set. He can see the Wimbledon trophy in his mind. It glitters under his hands and he wants the fantasy to be real so badly it hurts. He wants to beat Roger so badly it hurts. He packs all the hurt and anger and longing up into his next serve and watches it shoot past Roger with something like satisfaction but with a hint of relief too.
From the other side of the net Roger looks up and Andy meets dark eyes, darker now with worry. They stare each other down in a silent battle for several seconds then Andy smiles.
It’s a smile that says 'I’m winning.' It says 'Bet you didn’t expect this' and 'I’m loving kicking your ass.' Andy tilts his head slightly to one side and it becomes a smile Roger recognises from behind locked doors and heated moments; the smile Andy uses when they’re entwined together and Roger is screaming his name. It’s enough to make the Swiss flinch a little – seeing that smile in front of an audience of countless thousands can fracture even Roger’s outer calm and distract him from playing his best. Andy knows he’s playing dirty and he doesn’t care. He smiles wider as he leans back to serve.
He’ll pay for this tonight. But if he’s paying for it as Wimbledon champion, it’ll be worth it.
~
D (A.N. This is a silly ficlet, I know. I got the idea from Andre and Andy's recent charity fundraising and couldn't resist.)
“Hey.”
Andy glanced up from sorting his tennis bag, grinning in response to Andre’s smile. “Hey, what’s up? Come to say good luck for Madrid?”
“Don’t think I’ve got enough luck to be spreading around,” Andre countered and crossed the room to sit beside Andy on the bench. “It’s been fun getting to hang out with you for a few days. I just wanted to say thanks.”
“Hey, the fun’s been all mine. It’s not every week you get to play tennis for charity with Andre Agassi,” Andy offered a hand still grinning and Andre shook it. “We should get together in Spain if we have time. You never finished that story you were telling me, about you and that hooker in LA remember?”
“I never told you that sto-“ Andre caught Andy’s snort of laughter and stopped abruptly, irritated to have fallen for the trap. Andy clapped his fellow American’s shoulder, still laughing as he stood up
“That joke never gets old. So I’ll call you in Madrid?”
“Actually-“ Andre stood too, suddenly awkward. “I was wondering- wondering if-“
“Spit it out, I don’t bite,” Andy encouraged, a little confused at the usually outgoing Andre getting tongue-tied. “You were wondering if…?”
Andre took a deep breath and Andy had a sudden, insane idea of what he was going to ask. He dismissed it as stupidly impossible.
“… if you felt like grabbing dinner sometime?”
Andy blinked. Whoa. Andre Agassi did just ask me on a date.
“I guess… I’m flattered,” he said slowly, trying to find the right way to phrase his refusal. “Only…”
“You aren’t gay?” Andre asked with a grin, apparently relieved Andy hadn’t just walked away in disgust. “No big deal.”
“No, it’s not that,” Andy said without thinking then mentally winced as Andre’s grin widened. “I meant… there’s a… a guy on tour who’d kick your ass and my ass. Believe me.”
Andre thought about it for a moment. “Ah. Anyone I know?”
“You’ve met once or twice,” Andy answered dryly. “So- no hard feelings?”
“None.” Andre shook the hand his fellow American offered. His tone became teasing. “Aren’t you going to tell me who’s got first claim to Andy Roddick then?”
Andy shouldered his tennis bag and turned towards the door. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said over his shoulder. “By the end of this year he’s going to need a lot more trophy shelves.”
The door swung shut behind him, leaving Andre standing stunned in the middle of the room.
“Federer?!!”
~
E
Andy thinks fucking Roger is a little like getting high.
No, that isn’t it.
A little like getting drunk perhaps. The dizzying sway of the world as the Swiss moves beneath him with harsh, desperate whimpers is like trying to walk after too many vodkas; Andy thinks he’ll fall if he doesn’t hold on to something.
No, that isn’t even close.
He runs different things through his head; the giddy plunge of sky-diving; the hyperactively numb feeling he gets after staying up drinking coffee until the sun rises; that time up at the lake when he lost his footing on the ledge and fell fifteen feet into freezing water. None of them are close enough. None of them hold the same frantic pleasure, the rush of adrenaline and orgasm that half-blinds him with intensity. Roger is better than any of those things.
And then he has it. Leaning down to mouth wet kisses up the Swiss’ throat Andy smiles and rocks his hips harder just to hear Roger gasp.
Fucking Roger is like winning.
~
There's a longer ficlet I've been trying to finish which may get added on later, depending on how much I like the ending. And I am still working on Bounty. Rewriting is a b***h.
Clo
liroa15's labelling. So, as a a pathetic offering to avoid me getting murderered for lack of Bounty, here's tennis drabbles A-E.Title: Tennis Drabbles/Mini-ficlets A-E
Rating: Around a high-ish PG-13
Pairing: Roddick/Federer (one day I'll do something different and surprise you)
Dedication: To
liroa15 for posting her wonderful drabbles and never ceasing to beg for more Bounty. I will get it written for her. And for shana0809 who also writes wonderful fic and who is responsible for getting me to (try) and use German in one or two of these. I wouldn't know what any of it meant without her - having said that, all mistakes are mine.Disclaimer: Not mine. Never happened to my knowledge. Am not implicating in any way that Andy Roddick and Roger Federer are doing naughty things to each other in hotel rooms. I'm just trying to deal with the overload of plot bunnies in my head.
~
A
Roger bites his lip. Hard. The metallic sting of blood floods his mouth but it’s better than moaning. Better than screaming. There’s a roomful of guys on the other side of the closet door chatting, laughing, preparing for matches. They probably haven’t noticed he’s missing yet.
But if they investigate yells coming from the closet they’ll probably wish they hadn’t thought to look.
A whimper slides through clenched teeth as Andy pins him against the wall. The American’s hand traces the hair down Roger’s chest with teasing fingertips; the Swiss tilts back his head and gasps as Andy finally touches him in earnest. Sweat makes everything slick and easy; hands sliding across skin in carefully random patterns. Roger shivers as the American leans in for a rough kiss.
“I’ll make you scream one day,” Andy promises in a whisper and it’s a challenge as well; Roger has to keep silent or he’ll have lost. He doesn’t lose to Andy. If he starts he’ll never stop.
So he just bites his lip and swallows the scream pressing against clenched teeth.
~
B
They so rarely get to sleep beside each other.
Roger never sleeps enough. Every year he promises himself next year will be different and every Christmas he’s almost too exhausted to get out of bed. There’s always something else he needs to do and when he runs out of hours in the day, sleep is the first thing to go.
Not this year. This year sleep is top of the list. (Well, maybe second.) Because lying in bed with Andy Roddick curled against him feels better than winning a hundred Slams.
He loves Andy using him as a pillow while murmuring in his sleep. Sometimes Roger hears him growl something in German and it makes Roger smile. Andy is never going to speak fluent German but he knows it makes Roger happy to see him trying so he perseveres. Roger loves him for that and never laughs when Andy pronounces the words completely wrong.
He may smirk a little but he never laughs.
Andy wriggles closer into the curve of Roger’s body and the Swiss pulls the blankets further over them both for warmth. Andy is beautiful when he sleeps. Roger can’t resist sliding close enough to press a kiss into soft blond hair.
“Danke liebling,” Andy murmurs, sliding a possessive arm around Roger’s waist. The Swiss allows himself a small smile and closes his eyes, lips pressed lightly to Andy’s forehead.
He loves it when they can sleep beside each other.
~
C
Andy’s slamming everything he’s got into hitting that tennis ball. He can feel his arm and back aching from the force but he doesn’t stop. Across court Roger’s barely hanging on by the tips of his fingers and all Andy has to do is keep this up for another set. He can see the Wimbledon trophy in his mind. It glitters under his hands and he wants the fantasy to be real so badly it hurts. He wants to beat Roger so badly it hurts. He packs all the hurt and anger and longing up into his next serve and watches it shoot past Roger with something like satisfaction but with a hint of relief too.
From the other side of the net Roger looks up and Andy meets dark eyes, darker now with worry. They stare each other down in a silent battle for several seconds then Andy smiles.
It’s a smile that says 'I’m winning.' It says 'Bet you didn’t expect this' and 'I’m loving kicking your ass.' Andy tilts his head slightly to one side and it becomes a smile Roger recognises from behind locked doors and heated moments; the smile Andy uses when they’re entwined together and Roger is screaming his name. It’s enough to make the Swiss flinch a little – seeing that smile in front of an audience of countless thousands can fracture even Roger’s outer calm and distract him from playing his best. Andy knows he’s playing dirty and he doesn’t care. He smiles wider as he leans back to serve.
He’ll pay for this tonight. But if he’s paying for it as Wimbledon champion, it’ll be worth it.
~
D (A.N. This is a silly ficlet, I know. I got the idea from Andre and Andy's recent charity fundraising and couldn't resist.)
“Hey.”
Andy glanced up from sorting his tennis bag, grinning in response to Andre’s smile. “Hey, what’s up? Come to say good luck for Madrid?”
“Don’t think I’ve got enough luck to be spreading around,” Andre countered and crossed the room to sit beside Andy on the bench. “It’s been fun getting to hang out with you for a few days. I just wanted to say thanks.”
“Hey, the fun’s been all mine. It’s not every week you get to play tennis for charity with Andre Agassi,” Andy offered a hand still grinning and Andre shook it. “We should get together in Spain if we have time. You never finished that story you were telling me, about you and that hooker in LA remember?”
“I never told you that sto-“ Andre caught Andy’s snort of laughter and stopped abruptly, irritated to have fallen for the trap. Andy clapped his fellow American’s shoulder, still laughing as he stood up
“That joke never gets old. So I’ll call you in Madrid?”
“Actually-“ Andre stood too, suddenly awkward. “I was wondering- wondering if-“
“Spit it out, I don’t bite,” Andy encouraged, a little confused at the usually outgoing Andre getting tongue-tied. “You were wondering if…?”
Andre took a deep breath and Andy had a sudden, insane idea of what he was going to ask. He dismissed it as stupidly impossible.
“… if you felt like grabbing dinner sometime?”
Andy blinked. Whoa. Andre Agassi did just ask me on a date.
“I guess… I’m flattered,” he said slowly, trying to find the right way to phrase his refusal. “Only…”
“You aren’t gay?” Andre asked with a grin, apparently relieved Andy hadn’t just walked away in disgust. “No big deal.”
“No, it’s not that,” Andy said without thinking then mentally winced as Andre’s grin widened. “I meant… there’s a… a guy on tour who’d kick your ass and my ass. Believe me.”
Andre thought about it for a moment. “Ah. Anyone I know?”
“You’ve met once or twice,” Andy answered dryly. “So- no hard feelings?”
“None.” Andre shook the hand his fellow American offered. His tone became teasing. “Aren’t you going to tell me who’s got first claim to Andy Roddick then?”
Andy shouldered his tennis bag and turned towards the door. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said over his shoulder. “By the end of this year he’s going to need a lot more trophy shelves.”
The door swung shut behind him, leaving Andre standing stunned in the middle of the room.
“Federer?!!”
~
E
Andy thinks fucking Roger is a little like getting high.
No, that isn’t it.
A little like getting drunk perhaps. The dizzying sway of the world as the Swiss moves beneath him with harsh, desperate whimpers is like trying to walk after too many vodkas; Andy thinks he’ll fall if he doesn’t hold on to something.
No, that isn’t even close.
He runs different things through his head; the giddy plunge of sky-diving; the hyperactively numb feeling he gets after staying up drinking coffee until the sun rises; that time up at the lake when he lost his footing on the ledge and fell fifteen feet into freezing water. None of them are close enough. None of them hold the same frantic pleasure, the rush of adrenaline and orgasm that half-blinds him with intensity. Roger is better than any of those things.
And then he has it. Leaning down to mouth wet kisses up the Swiss’ throat Andy smiles and rocks his hips harder just to hear Roger gasp.
Fucking Roger is like winning.
~
There's a longer ficlet I've been trying to finish which may get added on later, depending on how much I like the ending. And I am still working on Bounty. Rewriting is a b***h.
Clo
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I loved...
Date: 2004-10-21 09:11 pm (UTC)Also, loved the German in B, I think it was. Mainly because: a) I'm in love withe the idea of Andy learning to speak German for Roger, and B) I actually understood the German.
And you can give them numbers if you'd like, I don't mind. I just number them so that I don't feel obliged to name all of them. I will tell you this though, you will love both 19 and 20. ;) And that's all I'm going to say.
Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-22 11:23 am (UTC)The German in B was there because
Nope, I've started with letters and letters they shall remain.
And now I want to see 19 and 20 dammit! *wails* When do I get to see them? *wonders what she can use as bribery*
Just a curious note; have you noticed that both Roger and Andy seem to have temporarily vanished? They both pull out of Madrid, Andy pulls out of Stockholm... I think there's more going on than would appear *coff*slashyconspiracynut*coff*. ;-)
Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-22 01:20 pm (UTC)As for 19 and 20, and 16,17, and 18, they will be out tomorrow or Sunday, on my time, which is little different from yours, I think. You're probably 8 hours ahead of me, and because of that I suppose it could be Monday before they actually appear on a computer screen near you.
Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-22 07:42 pm (UTC)Nope, I think that's exactly what they're doing. "To the Supah Sekrit Make Like Minks Cave Roger!" Mwahaha!
Um... maybe wishful thinking. Yeah.
Woe. Till Monday. Grate woe. However they'll be a reward for completing my English reading so yay I guess...
Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-22 09:30 pm (UTC)And you should do your exceedingly boring English readings without bribery, God knows I have to. *thinks about English and shudders*
Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-23 09:50 am (UTC)Pfft. I need bribery to do *anything*. ;-)
Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-23 11:20 am (UTC)Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-23 04:39 pm (UTC)I want you to have Bounty too because it means I'll have finished it. I think it's taken me longer to write than any tennis fic so far.
I have a series planned for after it's done though, so watch out... ;-)
Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-24 11:35 am (UTC)Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-25 07:41 am (UTC)Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-25 05:22 pm (UTC)Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-26 10:25 am (UTC)And lots of the pretty tennis players. ^___^
Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-26 05:29 pm (UTC)Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-27 05:35 am (UTC)Re: I loved...
Date: 2004-10-27 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-10 10:29 pm (UTC)B -- Awwwwwwwww... *pets Roger and Andy* Sooo frickin' adorable together! I love it! To pieces!!
C -- Andy knows he’s playing dirty and he doesn’t care. He smiles wider as he leans back to serve.
He’ll pay for this tonight. But if he’s paying for it as Wimbledon champion, it’ll be worth it. *grins* Evil Andy... I love that. He's so frickin' cute with the aggressiveness. :-D
D -- made me alternately shudder and giggle. The idea of Andre hitting on Andy creeps me out, but Andre's shock at Andy & Feds together was just hilarious! *pets Andy*
E -- Fucking Roger is like winning. That makes that little ficlet! *grins*
I loved all of these.
I can't believe I'm still only in October! *sigh*
no subject
Date: 2007-07-09 05:05 am (UTC)You wrote so well, and with such deep familiarity with the characters/players. Love it.
You'll probably get so many posts from me spammingreplying/commenting on your fics, I hope you don't mind, eh :)?
no subject
Date: 2007-07-15 10:13 pm (UTC)