tennis slash - The International Diner (1)
Title: The International Diner (1)
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairings: Andy Roddick/Marat Safin/Roger Federer, Mardy Fish/Juan Martin Del Potro
Other Players: Sam Querrey, John Isner, Lleyton Hewitt, Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray, Rafael Nadal
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Summary: AU. The simple summary is ATP in a diner. A cracked-out diner, that is for sure.
“These customers are fucking insane,” Andy Roddick exclaims as he drops off orders to the kitchen.
Mardy checks his watch then declares, “This must be a good day. You held out for two and a half hours before saying that today.”
John picks up the top paper and tries to decipher the order, to little success, then hands it off. “Sam, what does it say? I can’t read it.”
Sam tilts his head to the side. “Hmm, good question. That says fries so, that’s a t, k… hmm, maybe that’s tuckey barger. Or turkey burger.” He slides it back with the other orders, then turns to the burgers already cooking.
“Shut up, Sam,” Andy mutters. “You know exactly what it says.”
“Only because I’ve been working here for three years.”
“Three years too long if you ask me,” Lleyton pipes up, on his tiptoes and straining his neck to read the order. “When Ivan left to work for a school, I was sure that meant the orders would be at a respectable level again. Then Johnny was hired and it’s even worse!”
Andy picks up a plate of scrambled eggs, pointing out, “Yeah, but you still stay here and complain.”
“So do you, mate,” laying the Australian accent on thick.
Andy goes through the doors to drop the food off for the patron at the counter. He glances up and is face to face with the newest arrival, a regular who had interest in a certain waiter but was too chicken to admit it. He gives a nod to the customer, saying, “He’ll be right with you.”
He walks as quickly as possible back to the kitchen, where Mardy is impatiently awaiting the other plates of a large order. Andy announces, “Boy wonder is here for you.”
Mardy glares at him. “Shut up.”
“Everyone knows he comes here for more than just the food. Although I don’t know for sure if it’s you, that he’s always in your section is a clue…”
“He’s always in my section because somebody told our greeter to do that.”
“That was Murray, not me,” Andy insisted. “But it doesn’t matter. Even Novak would know he belongs to Fishie.”
Mardy mutters “Yeah, the kids know. I’d love to know how they got hired.”
“Novak entertains the young sect. Andy is excellent at dealing with the picky customers. Better than me, certainly.”
“And horrible with coworkers,” Mardy finishes. “At least the coworkers and most of the customers like you, even if you get irritated by the critical ones.”
“We can’t all be a ray of sunshine like you. He knows his order so don’t keep him waiting.”
"The boss will be in later so you'd better be ready."
When Mardy has all of the plates ready to go, Andy straightens his shirt and checks his reflection in the mirror.
* * * * *
Novak is focused on the front door, pleasant face fixed in case customers enter.
Naturally, it is quiet so he's being bugged by Andy Murray. "I am so glad the table of Spanish guys is ready to leave. They think I don't know Spanish so they're nothing but insulting in their language."
Novak looks over at the table in question. "I don't think it's as bad as you think." He personally didn't mind when the Four F's as Roddick had dubbed them -Fernando, Feliciano, Ferru and Ferrero - appeared. It upped the level of pretty in this establishment, which could be lacking. Then again, Novak didn't know a word of Spanish but the smiling faces seemed to speak enough to him.
"You don't have a problem when Rafa and the Argentines show up."
"Well, that's different. Rafa knows I speak Spanish and only uses Spanish to compliment good service in hopelessly poetic terms. Nalbandian grunts, points and eats while Juan Martin engages in awkward English..."
"...and has a hopeless crush on the pretty Mardy."
Andy rolls his eyes. "The other waiters seem to have all the luck in picking up customers. Well, Roddick has the boss, of course. Mardy seems to have a different guy crushing on him every month. Then there's the illustrious affairs between Marat and anyone who sets foot in this place ..."
"And little Andrew Murray is all alone on a Saturday night."
"Actually, I'm usually here on a Saturday night because everyone else has plans. I'm not little," standing in front of Novak to show off his height. "See?"
"Right. So you have the pick. There's someone in mind?"
Andy stares at Novak, not able to give the real answer to the question because he knows Novak won't handle it well. "Not really."
"Would you like me to try?"
The Scot knows he shouldn't let Novak try. But he's curious as to what he finds suitable. "Why not?"
* * * * *
"Hello, Juan," Mardy says with a bright smile. "D'ya know what you want?" Mardy curses himself for making a simple question sound like a pickup line. He's been around Andy too long.
Nalbandian the Neanderthal, as it sounds like whenever someone talks about him, says, "Just that." Mardy looks at the menu, something in French that he cannot pronounce but he's sure has been ordered, and writes it down.
Juan Martin says, "I had the vegetable free-tatta, is that right?"
"Fritatta," Mardy corrects.
"The last time and, you were right, it was very good. I'll have that, with a side of toast and orange juice."
Nalbandian grumbles something in Spanish and Juan Martin stares down at the menu trembling in his hands. Mardy looks up and sees that Murray is two tables away. He tries not to ask the grump for help with Spanish but it's becoming more difficult with every time he has to deal with this older man. At least Juan Martin has the grace to answer in English or not at all.
He drops off the order and Murray is right behind him with a plate, complaining, "Apparently, the royal couple thinks that I am not sociable enough with the customers. I simply do not understand why the Agassis even come here when there's a five-star restaurant down the block. We are so beneath them."
Three voices say in unison, "Shut up Andy."
"Fine, Greek chorus." He mumbles to Mardy, "Neanderthal asked your boy why he always suggests this place. The blush and tremor were a pretty clear reply."
Mardy stares at Murray as he picks up an order, then mutters the only response that comes to him. "Fuck off."
* * * * *
Marat strolls in for the afternoon shift. Novak is relieved to see him on time because he needs to pick up his brother at tennis practice.
"The boss is here," Mardy announces loud enough for everyone in the kitchen to hear it.
Andy Roddick takes one last glance in the mirror, then walks out. Just as quickly, he storms back in, muttering, "You bastard. It's only Marat. He just thinks he's the boss."
"Well, he is the boss when it comes to your relationship. Mr. Federer will just stroll in at the end of your shift and do whatever you three do that I'd rather not know."
Sam calls out, "That nobody wants to know but Marat insists on laying the innuendo on so thick that it's like cologne."
Andy glares at the cook. How he hasn't yet killed him after three years is a mystery to him. Then again, that's what pranks are for, to relieve the tension from the idiots around here. He'll have to get ideas from Mardy later.
Lleyton waits for Sam to return his attention to his food before stepping away from the grill and approaching Andy. "Be careful regarding Marat. It can make you feel like you're on top of the world but just as harshly drop you to earth. Trust me."
Yeah, Andy knows about the past with Lleyton and Marat. That they're two hotheads that let their sex life spill over into fights in the kitchen. Sam ended up with a black eye from their last fight. Though it did teach Sam to take Lleyton seriously because he can really pack a punch despite his size.
That wasn't the story with him and Marat. Yes, they fought but Andy also knew when to leave him alone and let Marat wreck the room.
* * * * *
Novak is in the back room, changing from dressy attire back into sweats, when there's a loud rapping at the door. The Serb yells, "Roddick, find another spot. You just have to deal."
"You told me to let you know when Rafa showed up," Andy yells.
"Okay. I'll be there in a minute." Novak dresses quickly, hoping to put his plan to fix Murray up into motion.
By the time Novak gets back out onto the floor, he sees Roddick at Rafa's table taking his order. Rafa is there with his uncle, lecturing in the middle of deciding on food. Novak can sense that the American will gripe about the man as soon as he gets back to the kitchen so he hustles over quickly before they can hear it.
"Good afternoon," Novak greets, then realizes they may not know him out of uniform.
Rafa smiles brightly. "Hey, Novak, right? You're not working?"
"I'm leaving early. My brother needs a ride from tennis practice."
The uncle pipes up, "You know that my boy is a great player as well."
Actually, he did. Although they have never faced each other, he does know from his friends that Rafa is feared by most. Rafa stares down at the table, muttering, "Don't do that. Novak plays as well."
"Is that right?" Novak nods. "Any good? There isn't much competition out here so maybe you or your brother would be interested in a practice session."
Novak knows he was supposed to use this time to fix his co-worker up but he cannot resist the offer. "That sounds like fun."
* * * * *
"Good evening, Mr. Federer," Andy Murray says when the owner enters the diner. "Lovely suit you're wearing."
Roger nods, otherwise completely ignoring him, as he stands awaiting Marat to pay attention. Marat glances to the side, knows Roger is right there, but pretends he doesn't notice.
Andy Murray is quickly dragged away from the duo by Andy Roddick, who mutters, "Roger doesn't care about you kissing his ass. Back to work." With the kid gone, he says, "Good evening. Lovely suit you're wearing."
Roger laughs at the repeated phrasing. "So now you're stealing moves from the boys?
The American leans in, whispering, "Well, I'd rather say you'd look better not wearing it."
Marat calls out, "Maria, party of four." Four Russian ladies get up, all decked out for a night at the clubs after this meal. He gives each one his best leer of a smile. "Ready to have fun tonight, I see," as he leads them to a table.
The one in the front, likely Maria, says, "Aww, you're Russian as well. Have any plans after work?"
Marat tries to avoid the two pairs of eyes staring at him. "Well, I don't know. I have a meeting with my boss after shift. If his offer is enticing enough, I may be busy." Andy tries not to laugh and Roger smirks at that information.
The other three ladies sit down. Maria is about to but stops to scribble down information on a business card and slide it into Marat's hand. "This is where we'll be. The front is my number if you want to reschedule for another time."
When Marat returns to his post, Roger says, "Just so you know, the boss knows how to get his employees to do what he wants."
"You'll need to do some convincing."
Chapter 2 - How Andy Roddick Became the Level-Headed American (for a day)
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairings: Andy Roddick/Marat Safin/Roger Federer, Mardy Fish/Juan Martin Del Potro
Other Players: Sam Querrey, John Isner, Lleyton Hewitt, Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray, Rafael Nadal
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Summary: AU. The simple summary is ATP in a diner. A cracked-out diner, that is for sure.
“These customers are fucking insane,” Andy Roddick exclaims as he drops off orders to the kitchen.
Mardy checks his watch then declares, “This must be a good day. You held out for two and a half hours before saying that today.”
John picks up the top paper and tries to decipher the order, to little success, then hands it off. “Sam, what does it say? I can’t read it.”
Sam tilts his head to the side. “Hmm, good question. That says fries so, that’s a t, k… hmm, maybe that’s tuckey barger. Or turkey burger.” He slides it back with the other orders, then turns to the burgers already cooking.
“Shut up, Sam,” Andy mutters. “You know exactly what it says.”
“Only because I’ve been working here for three years.”
“Three years too long if you ask me,” Lleyton pipes up, on his tiptoes and straining his neck to read the order. “When Ivan left to work for a school, I was sure that meant the orders would be at a respectable level again. Then Johnny was hired and it’s even worse!”
Andy picks up a plate of scrambled eggs, pointing out, “Yeah, but you still stay here and complain.”
“So do you, mate,” laying the Australian accent on thick.
Andy goes through the doors to drop the food off for the patron at the counter. He glances up and is face to face with the newest arrival, a regular who had interest in a certain waiter but was too chicken to admit it. He gives a nod to the customer, saying, “He’ll be right with you.”
He walks as quickly as possible back to the kitchen, where Mardy is impatiently awaiting the other plates of a large order. Andy announces, “Boy wonder is here for you.”
Mardy glares at him. “Shut up.”
“Everyone knows he comes here for more than just the food. Although I don’t know for sure if it’s you, that he’s always in your section is a clue…”
“He’s always in my section because somebody told our greeter to do that.”
“That was Murray, not me,” Andy insisted. “But it doesn’t matter. Even Novak would know he belongs to Fishie.”
Mardy mutters “Yeah, the kids know. I’d love to know how they got hired.”
“Novak entertains the young sect. Andy is excellent at dealing with the picky customers. Better than me, certainly.”
“And horrible with coworkers,” Mardy finishes. “At least the coworkers and most of the customers like you, even if you get irritated by the critical ones.”
“We can’t all be a ray of sunshine like you. He knows his order so don’t keep him waiting.”
"The boss will be in later so you'd better be ready."
When Mardy has all of the plates ready to go, Andy straightens his shirt and checks his reflection in the mirror.
* * * * *
Novak is focused on the front door, pleasant face fixed in case customers enter.
Naturally, it is quiet so he's being bugged by Andy Murray. "I am so glad the table of Spanish guys is ready to leave. They think I don't know Spanish so they're nothing but insulting in their language."
Novak looks over at the table in question. "I don't think it's as bad as you think." He personally didn't mind when the Four F's as Roddick had dubbed them -Fernando, Feliciano, Ferru and Ferrero - appeared. It upped the level of pretty in this establishment, which could be lacking. Then again, Novak didn't know a word of Spanish but the smiling faces seemed to speak enough to him.
"You don't have a problem when Rafa and the Argentines show up."
"Well, that's different. Rafa knows I speak Spanish and only uses Spanish to compliment good service in hopelessly poetic terms. Nalbandian grunts, points and eats while Juan Martin engages in awkward English..."
"...and has a hopeless crush on the pretty Mardy."
Andy rolls his eyes. "The other waiters seem to have all the luck in picking up customers. Well, Roddick has the boss, of course. Mardy seems to have a different guy crushing on him every month. Then there's the illustrious affairs between Marat and anyone who sets foot in this place ..."
"And little Andrew Murray is all alone on a Saturday night."
"Actually, I'm usually here on a Saturday night because everyone else has plans. I'm not little," standing in front of Novak to show off his height. "See?"
"Right. So you have the pick. There's someone in mind?"
Andy stares at Novak, not able to give the real answer to the question because he knows Novak won't handle it well. "Not really."
"Would you like me to try?"
The Scot knows he shouldn't let Novak try. But he's curious as to what he finds suitable. "Why not?"
* * * * *
"Hello, Juan," Mardy says with a bright smile. "D'ya know what you want?" Mardy curses himself for making a simple question sound like a pickup line. He's been around Andy too long.
Nalbandian the Neanderthal, as it sounds like whenever someone talks about him, says, "Just that." Mardy looks at the menu, something in French that he cannot pronounce but he's sure has been ordered, and writes it down.
Juan Martin says, "I had the vegetable free-tatta, is that right?"
"Fritatta," Mardy corrects.
"The last time and, you were right, it was very good. I'll have that, with a side of toast and orange juice."
Nalbandian grumbles something in Spanish and Juan Martin stares down at the menu trembling in his hands. Mardy looks up and sees that Murray is two tables away. He tries not to ask the grump for help with Spanish but it's becoming more difficult with every time he has to deal with this older man. At least Juan Martin has the grace to answer in English or not at all.
He drops off the order and Murray is right behind him with a plate, complaining, "Apparently, the royal couple thinks that I am not sociable enough with the customers. I simply do not understand why the Agassis even come here when there's a five-star restaurant down the block. We are so beneath them."
Three voices say in unison, "Shut up Andy."
"Fine, Greek chorus." He mumbles to Mardy, "Neanderthal asked your boy why he always suggests this place. The blush and tremor were a pretty clear reply."
Mardy stares at Murray as he picks up an order, then mutters the only response that comes to him. "Fuck off."
* * * * *
Marat strolls in for the afternoon shift. Novak is relieved to see him on time because he needs to pick up his brother at tennis practice.
"The boss is here," Mardy announces loud enough for everyone in the kitchen to hear it.
Andy Roddick takes one last glance in the mirror, then walks out. Just as quickly, he storms back in, muttering, "You bastard. It's only Marat. He just thinks he's the boss."
"Well, he is the boss when it comes to your relationship. Mr. Federer will just stroll in at the end of your shift and do whatever you three do that I'd rather not know."
Sam calls out, "That nobody wants to know but Marat insists on laying the innuendo on so thick that it's like cologne."
Andy glares at the cook. How he hasn't yet killed him after three years is a mystery to him. Then again, that's what pranks are for, to relieve the tension from the idiots around here. He'll have to get ideas from Mardy later.
Lleyton waits for Sam to return his attention to his food before stepping away from the grill and approaching Andy. "Be careful regarding Marat. It can make you feel like you're on top of the world but just as harshly drop you to earth. Trust me."
Yeah, Andy knows about the past with Lleyton and Marat. That they're two hotheads that let their sex life spill over into fights in the kitchen. Sam ended up with a black eye from their last fight. Though it did teach Sam to take Lleyton seriously because he can really pack a punch despite his size.
That wasn't the story with him and Marat. Yes, they fought but Andy also knew when to leave him alone and let Marat wreck the room.
* * * * *
Novak is in the back room, changing from dressy attire back into sweats, when there's a loud rapping at the door. The Serb yells, "Roddick, find another spot. You just have to deal."
"You told me to let you know when Rafa showed up," Andy yells.
"Okay. I'll be there in a minute." Novak dresses quickly, hoping to put his plan to fix Murray up into motion.
By the time Novak gets back out onto the floor, he sees Roddick at Rafa's table taking his order. Rafa is there with his uncle, lecturing in the middle of deciding on food. Novak can sense that the American will gripe about the man as soon as he gets back to the kitchen so he hustles over quickly before they can hear it.
"Good afternoon," Novak greets, then realizes they may not know him out of uniform.
Rafa smiles brightly. "Hey, Novak, right? You're not working?"
"I'm leaving early. My brother needs a ride from tennis practice."
The uncle pipes up, "You know that my boy is a great player as well."
Actually, he did. Although they have never faced each other, he does know from his friends that Rafa is feared by most. Rafa stares down at the table, muttering, "Don't do that. Novak plays as well."
"Is that right?" Novak nods. "Any good? There isn't much competition out here so maybe you or your brother would be interested in a practice session."
Novak knows he was supposed to use this time to fix his co-worker up but he cannot resist the offer. "That sounds like fun."
* * * * *
"Good evening, Mr. Federer," Andy Murray says when the owner enters the diner. "Lovely suit you're wearing."
Roger nods, otherwise completely ignoring him, as he stands awaiting Marat to pay attention. Marat glances to the side, knows Roger is right there, but pretends he doesn't notice.
Andy Murray is quickly dragged away from the duo by Andy Roddick, who mutters, "Roger doesn't care about you kissing his ass. Back to work." With the kid gone, he says, "Good evening. Lovely suit you're wearing."
Roger laughs at the repeated phrasing. "So now you're stealing moves from the boys?
The American leans in, whispering, "Well, I'd rather say you'd look better not wearing it."
Marat calls out, "Maria, party of four." Four Russian ladies get up, all decked out for a night at the clubs after this meal. He gives each one his best leer of a smile. "Ready to have fun tonight, I see," as he leads them to a table.
The one in the front, likely Maria, says, "Aww, you're Russian as well. Have any plans after work?"
Marat tries to avoid the two pairs of eyes staring at him. "Well, I don't know. I have a meeting with my boss after shift. If his offer is enticing enough, I may be busy." Andy tries not to laugh and Roger smirks at that information.
The other three ladies sit down. Maria is about to but stops to scribble down information on a business card and slide it into Marat's hand. "This is where we'll be. The front is my number if you want to reschedule for another time."
When Marat returns to his post, Roger says, "Just so you know, the boss knows how to get his employees to do what he wants."
"You'll need to do some convincing."
Chapter 2 - How Andy Roddick Became the Level-Headed American (for a day)