Tennis fic: The Last Time [PG]
Title: The Last Time
Author: Jae Kayelle
Pairing: Roger Federer/Andy Roddick
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: No assumptions are made about the lives of these real persons. This is a work of fiction.
Word count: 622
Summary: Andy retires and says goodbye.
Roger and Paul got there in time to see Andy's career end. It hadn't quite hit Roger yet, that his friend would leave the tour, but he knew it to be true. He watched as Andy gave his speech and said goodbye to the fans. Juan Martin made himself as small and unobtrusive as was possible for a man who stood so tall. He stayed off to the side. This was Andy's moment, not his. Roger swallowed hard when he heard the tears in Andy's voice. His head dropped forward and he swept a hand across his eyes.
A gentle squeeze to the back of his neck made him look up. There was understanding and shared sorrow in Paul's eyes. Roger nodded, and then they both turned to watch as Andy made his way through the tunnel towards the locker rooms. Roger and Paul had purposely stationed themselves in this particular corridor because they knew Andy would come this way.
Andy's gaze was on the ground as he walked, but he glanced up to see who was standing there. A big smile, albeit a bit shaky, creased his face when he saw them. When he got close enough he reached out and wrapped his long arms around Roger, pressing his face into Roger's shoulder. Bringing his own arms up Roger hugged back and just held his friend. His shoulder was getting wet but Roger hung on, stubbornly refusing to let go. To do that would mean that it was real, that Andy's career was over and he wouldn't be on the tour any longer.
“God, you have bony shoulders,” Andy told him, his voice muffled by Roger's soggy shirt.
Roger made no reply, so after a minute Andy pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Hey, it's okay. We'll see each other again. I'll play some exos or charity matches. The next natural disaster you organize a match and call me. I'll be there.” Then he must have realized how that sounded. “You know, a disaster that doesn't involve death and destruction.”
Roger finally laughed quietly. “You'll be the first one I'll call.”
Holding him at arm's length Andy stared solemnly before nodding once, and then turning to Paul.
“Take care of my boy, Paul.”
“Best of luck to you, Andy,” Paul told him. “You're one of the good ones.”
“Help Rog win more slams, 'kay?”
He shook Paul's hand firmly. Then he bent to pick up his bag and, looking at Roger again, he began to walk away.
Roger stared after him, feeling a bit empty.
Andy got a half dozen steps away, before turning and coming back. He grabbed Roger by the sides of his face and leaned in. Their lips met in a crushing kiss that bruised Roger's mouth. Then Andy softened the force of it. He licked and nipped until Roger opened up under him, and they both put years of history, of rivalry and frustration and mutual admiration, of friendship, into the encounter. At last Andy pulled back an inch or so, just enough so that they could look one another in the eye.
Roger wasn't sure when he had clamped his hands on Andy, one on his upper arm and one on the back of his head. He lightly touched Andy's cheek, while Andy dug his fingers into Roger's hair and then released him.
“Coulda, woulda, shoulda,” Andy said hoarsely. “Love ya, man.”
“Goodbye, Andy.”
Roger watched him walk away and then turned to Paul, who was looking at him closely.
“You going to be okay?” Paul asked.
“Yeah. Let's go practice.”
And it was business as usual, except it wasn't.
# end
Author: Jae Kayelle
Pairing: Roger Federer/Andy Roddick
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: No assumptions are made about the lives of these real persons. This is a work of fiction.
Word count: 622
Summary: Andy retires and says goodbye.
Roger and Paul got there in time to see Andy's career end. It hadn't quite hit Roger yet, that his friend would leave the tour, but he knew it to be true. He watched as Andy gave his speech and said goodbye to the fans. Juan Martin made himself as small and unobtrusive as was possible for a man who stood so tall. He stayed off to the side. This was Andy's moment, not his. Roger swallowed hard when he heard the tears in Andy's voice. His head dropped forward and he swept a hand across his eyes.
A gentle squeeze to the back of his neck made him look up. There was understanding and shared sorrow in Paul's eyes. Roger nodded, and then they both turned to watch as Andy made his way through the tunnel towards the locker rooms. Roger and Paul had purposely stationed themselves in this particular corridor because they knew Andy would come this way.
Andy's gaze was on the ground as he walked, but he glanced up to see who was standing there. A big smile, albeit a bit shaky, creased his face when he saw them. When he got close enough he reached out and wrapped his long arms around Roger, pressing his face into Roger's shoulder. Bringing his own arms up Roger hugged back and just held his friend. His shoulder was getting wet but Roger hung on, stubbornly refusing to let go. To do that would mean that it was real, that Andy's career was over and he wouldn't be on the tour any longer.
“God, you have bony shoulders,” Andy told him, his voice muffled by Roger's soggy shirt.
Roger made no reply, so after a minute Andy pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Hey, it's okay. We'll see each other again. I'll play some exos or charity matches. The next natural disaster you organize a match and call me. I'll be there.” Then he must have realized how that sounded. “You know, a disaster that doesn't involve death and destruction.”
Roger finally laughed quietly. “You'll be the first one I'll call.”
Holding him at arm's length Andy stared solemnly before nodding once, and then turning to Paul.
“Take care of my boy, Paul.”
“Best of luck to you, Andy,” Paul told him. “You're one of the good ones.”
“Help Rog win more slams, 'kay?”
He shook Paul's hand firmly. Then he bent to pick up his bag and, looking at Roger again, he began to walk away.
Roger stared after him, feeling a bit empty.
Andy got a half dozen steps away, before turning and coming back. He grabbed Roger by the sides of his face and leaned in. Their lips met in a crushing kiss that bruised Roger's mouth. Then Andy softened the force of it. He licked and nipped until Roger opened up under him, and they both put years of history, of rivalry and frustration and mutual admiration, of friendship, into the encounter. At last Andy pulled back an inch or so, just enough so that they could look one another in the eye.
Roger wasn't sure when he had clamped his hands on Andy, one on his upper arm and one on the back of his head. He lightly touched Andy's cheek, while Andy dug his fingers into Roger's hair and then released him.
“Coulda, woulda, shoulda,” Andy said hoarsely. “Love ya, man.”
“Goodbye, Andy.”
Roger watched him walk away and then turned to Paul, who was looking at him closely.
“You going to be okay?” Paul asked.
“Yeah. Let's go practice.”
And it was business as usual, except it wasn't.
# end