Fic - Green
Title ~ Green
Fandom ~ Tennis
Prompt ~ Green
Characters ~ Gustavo Kuerten, Goran Ivanisevic
Rating ~ PG
Notes ~ It’s another fanfic100 story! Two in one night! On a more practical note, this story is set in Miami, 2001. You may recall that was the year that Guga won the French, and Goran won Wimbledon. It’s all
nastasie’s fault, with all the Goran talk lately.
I’m really going to bed now. REALLY.
GREEN
When Guga comes into the locker room, he’s not surprised to find Goran there. It has been hours since Goran lost to Carlos and everyone else who is not playing that night has retreated back to their hotel rooms, but Guga is not surprised.
Goran is sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up and his elbows resting on them. His head is in his hands, long fingers pushing the brown hair away from his face. Guga is familiar with the pose. He’s seen it before, and he knows what dark and lonely thoughts Goran is thinking at that moment.
"This isn’t right for you, anyhow."
Guga can see the irritation on Goran’s face when he looks up. His internal raging has been interrupted. He is ready to yell and curse and maybe even throw something. The look fades when he sees Guga standing there, though, and he forces a tired smile.
Guga is aware that he has that effect on people.
"What is not right?" Goran asks, his voice still rough and tense.
Guga gestures with his arms at the locker room around them, not sure what he’s trying to say. "This."
Goran can only frown.
"It is not going to happen here."
"What?"
Again, Guga is at a loss. He shrugs. "I don’t know."
Goran lets his head fall back against his locker, suddenly exhausted. "So, where is this thing...that you do not know...going to happen?"
Guga is about to say again that he doesn’t know, but when he opens his mouth, something else entirely slips out.
"Someplace green."
Goran is quiet for a moment. Guga can only stand there, trying to understand himself. Then Goran nods, very seriously.
"And for you," he says. "I am thinking someplace red."
It hits Guga then, what Goran means, and what he meant without realizing it.
Someplace green. Green like the slick grass sliding beneath his shoes and the high, ivy covered walls around him. That is where Goran belongs.
And red. That is as obvious to Guga as a thick layer of clay coating his socks and sticking to his legs after a long match. That is where he belongs.
"I look good in red," he says, laughing, mostly to himself.
Goran nods. "You look good in anything."
Guga looks down at him, and Goran looks up, and both of them are smiling.
THE END