Fights on a Rainy Day - Goran/Mario, PG
Title: Fights on a Rainy Day
Pairing: Goran Ivanesevic / Mario Ancic
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own these people and this is far too fluffy to have actually happened. (okay, okay, even without the fluff it wouldn't happen.)
Notes: This is another of nastasie birthday fic that's about 2 months late. I just typed it up because my (very long - sarcasm) hiatus was highly frustrating and I just wanted to stay in touch with my LJ-reality. And I'm procrastinating my studying. Anyway I hope you like it nastasie =) Oh yea, this fic was totally not meant to coincide with Mario watching Marat's match but whatever.
The white vase came flying through the air, missing Mario by inches as he ducked, the porcelain smashing forcefully against the wall behind him, shattering to pieces.
Clothes, sheets and pillows were strewn around the hotel room, along with the bundle of sunflowers Goran had given him, its bright yellow petals scattered across the dull grey of the carpet. Mario watched wide-eyed as Goran blinked momentarily at his hand before shooting an angry glare at the other Croat. The two of them had been yelling for what seems like hours, and now Goran finally pointed to the door, his hand trembling slightly.
"Get out. Get out and I don't want to see you again." his voice was not loud, but its icy tone sent chills down Mario's spine.
"Fine!" Mario retaliated, not giving Goran a second glance as walked determinedly towards the door, slamming it closed as he passed.
It was then that he realised he'd just stormed out of his own room.
"Well that's just great," Mario exclaimed aloud to the empty hallway. He had been on edge all morning and a clash with Goran in the afternoon was just want he needed to blow his fuse. "Fuck this. Fuck it. Fuck him. ARGH!" He needed out - the lift was too slow - he was too impatient to wait for the stupid lift. He stalked towards the stairwell, descending the steps muttering under his breath.
"Damn him, damn him. Can't understand him, don't even know why I try, fucking Goran Ivanesevic, all round idiot..."
He ran out onto the chilly street, the sky glowing a hazy pinkish-grey like it does when it is about to rain. Mario breathed in the crispy evening air.
"Now what do I do??" He couldn't go to the DVD store and rent a movie because heck, the DVD player was back in his Goran's hotel room. He blatantly refused to go to the movies at this time of night, where cinemas were probably filled with couples more interested in each other than what was on the screen. It unexpectantly reminded him of Goran and he irritably brushed that thought aside. Damn Goran.
Mario finally settled on doing some reading. Heavy reading, like fucking philosophy, or something. Like Nietzsche.
***
Mario returned to his hotel room cautiously, relieved to find it empty. He had found the book and had been reading it in the restaurant downstairs when Ivan Ljubicic found him and invited him to watch the football. Mario complied, and they sat on Ivan's couch having popcorn as tiny figures flickered across the screen. Not that he was paying much attention. He left almost right after the game, Ivan giving him a pat on the back as he left. Ivan was a good friend, Mario thought, but figured he'd be the last person in the world to hear Mario bitch about Goran Ivanesevic.
Glad that Goran had disappeared from his room, Mario headed for bed. It was when he placed the book on the dresser that Mario noticed Goran's jacket lying on the sofa, and his phone sitting silently on the coffee table. Which would only mean that Goran was coming back. Mario noticed that relative order had been restored around the room, too, clothes tossed onto a chair, sofa cushions straightened and the (dead) sunflowers lying in the trash can. Which meant Goran might have calmed down and was out looking for him to apologise. Maybe.
Mario read another chapter of Nietzsche. He showered, brushed his teeth. Changed into his pyjamas, rang Goran's (actual) room to make sure he wasn't there.
An hour passed as Mario lay awake in his bed. And then the skies opened and it started raining.
"Well, fuck," Mario thought, kicking off the covers on his bed. He dressed quickly, grabbing an umbrella and Goran's jacket as he set out to find that foolish boyfriend of his. No idea why he didn't bring his jacket or his phone.
It didn't take him long to find the other Croat. Lamplight illuminated the tall figure who sat hunched under a bus shelter, soaked to his skin and shivering visibly. Mario felt a wave of sympathy and walked slowly over to the older man, softly calling his name.
Goran only looked up as Mario sat beside him, possibly too cold and shivering too hard to do anything else.
Suddenly, Goran leant into Mario, who was surprised but soon enveloped him into a hug as shivers (or were they sobs?) washed over Goran's body. "Where were you?" Goran whispered, "I went looking for you."
Mario couldn't control the laugh that spilled from his lips. "Bookstore. And then Ivan's."
"Ivan's????"
"Yes, Ivan's." Mario repeated. "Indoors. Somewhere sane. You're all wet now, wandering around in this appalling weather. Take your shirt off, it's drenched. You'll get sick if you keep wearing it. And you should have brought your jacket with you."
In Goran's credit, he didn't make any "Yes, mum" jokes. Goran looked exhausted as he peeled off the wet shirt, strands of hair clinging to his head. Mario felt a sudden urge to kiss Goran as he brushed his hand over the wet hair and pushed it behind Goran's ears and out of his tired eyes.
"Thank you. For everything."
"You know I'd go around the world for you."
"You already go around the world for me." Goran joked weakly. Mario sniffed.
"With you. Just a matter of convenience."
Goran laughed before sobering quickly.
"I'm sorry for fighting."
Mario smiled.
"What fight?"
Goran kissed him then, long and hard and seeming to express feelings where words were insufficient. Mario could feel his insides stir as Goran slipped a hand under his shirt, yelping softly as icy cold hands slid over his stomach.
"Not here," Mario whispered, pulling away from the kiss. "Not here."
Goran pouted.
"...maybe when we get back to my room."
"My mood might have died by then."
"Well I know mine won't be," Mario said matter-of-factly, standing and opening the umbrella. Goran thought for a moment before joining Mario under it. Together they walked towards the hotel in silence.
"...so what the hell were you doing with Ivan in his room?"
"Goran! Nothing."
"Uh-huh. Now you really did just kill my mood."
"We. just. watched. football." Mario replied, whacking Goran on the arm. "I think you just killed my mood!!"
"What! No! I was just kidding!"
Mario shone Goran a grin. "Me too."
It was Goran's turn to hit Mario on the arm. And this time in the hitting battle they were both laughing.
~FIN~