Fic: Merlot & Cigarettes
Title: Merlot & Cigarettes
Pairing: Feliciano Lopez/Fernando Verdasco; Juan Carlos Ferrero
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not true
Summary: After the first round match in Montreal
i didn't actually get to watch the match (which is wack, cause i live in Canada so you'd think they'd show it but nope. i got stuck with Andy Murry *headdesk*) so if this seems complete ridiculous, please let me know
Juan Carlos sighs. He's sitting in a corner on the balcony of his hotel in Montreal, across from Feliciano who looks quite comfortable with his glass of Merlot in one hand and a cigarette in the other. They're friends, have been for a long time but Juan Carlos doesn't know how to approach this behaviour exactly.
"Feli"
Feliciano just flicks the wrist that holds the lit cigarette.
Juan Carlos lets out another sigh. "What are you doing?"
"I thought it was fairly obvious," Feliciano says with a laugh as he brings the glass up to his lips. He lets the tartness roll over his tongue before slowly swallowing the liquid.
"You do still have to play tomorrow. I hope you know that." There's this airiness about him that Juan Carlos doesn't particularly like in this moment.
"I know and I look forward to it."
"Fuck, Feliciano. Stop being a being a bitch." The words come out in frustration but Juan Carlos doesn't take them back. Instead he eyes the other man carefully, hoping he didn't overstep any boundries.
Feliciano settles his glass down onto the table in front of him, leaning in. "Look, Juanqui. If I'm annoying you, just say the word and I'll go." His eyes don't leave Juan Carlos', blue depths calm and understanding.
Letting out another sigh, Juan Carlos slumps back into his seat, his shoulders sagging. "It's just that I know he's back in his room right now, well your room, pacing and worrying that he fucked up in some major way while you're here drinking wine and acting like you don't give a fuck when we both know you do. Just... Just don't put up that bullshit with me, Feli. It's not easy playing against him for you, hell even for me, so don't act like it is, ok?"
The ashes from the cigarette in Feliciano's hand falls to the ground as it remains untouched for the pass few minutes, the smoke still wafting about. He's known Juanqui for a long time now but it's still hard to talk about certain things. He drops his eyes to focus on the fuming cigarette in front of him.
"It's hard, you know? Not because we're together, well not entirely. It's just that... with him on the other side of the court there's always a chance, you know? I would like to believe that I know him better than anyone else, that I know his game pretty well. So when we have matches against each other, so I let myself believe that I could possibly beat him," Feliiciano pauses to let out a harsh laugh that sounds horribly forced and uncomfortable to Juan Carlos. "Big fucking joke that is."
Relaxing a little, Juan Carlos offers a smile. "But that's not his fault, right? You know he hates playing against you as much as you do." His voice is soft, reassuring and Feliciano looks up with the calm still in his eyes.
"I know. I'm just being a bitch, like you said, for no reason."
"No no no. You have a reason. I didn't mean it like that, Feli. Take as much time as you need here, but you know you'll have to face him eventually. Hell, you're doubles partners."
"Yeah," Feliciano breathes. He salutes Juan Carlos with his glass before quickly draining the liquid. The cigarette is dropped to the floor and grounded out by his heel.
{*}
There's a jingle at the door that causes Fernando's ears to perk up. In seconds, he rushes over, only to be pushed against the wall roughly. Lips are on his tasting of rich wine and smoke, fingers curling around his growing hair, and the familiar scent and feel of Feliciano fill his senses. It's like Fernando is suddenly been hurled into a whirlwind; an insistent tongue pushes past his lips, fingers making quick work of the buttons and zipper on his jeans. Then Feliciano pulls away from his lips, his eyes calm, his lips full. He just looks at him for a second, before dropping to his knees and swallowing Fernando without any reservations.
Fernando gasps and locks his fingers into Feliciano's hair, trying to grip onto something. Besides his moans and Feliciano's hum around his cock, the room remains silent. Feliciano keeps his eyes on him, blue serene, as he brings Fernando to completion. He lets Fernando sag against the wall as he quietly but quickly redresses him and rises.
"Feli, you didn't-" Fernando's words are swallowed by Feliciano's lips. Though hurt still faintly resonates within Feliciano, he knows Juan Carlos was right, that it's not Fernando's fault. When they part, Feliciano finally offers a smile before taking him by the hand and leading him to the bedroom. Status quo has been reinstated.
Pairing: Feliciano Lopez/Fernando Verdasco; Juan Carlos Ferrero
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not true
Summary: After the first round match in Montreal
i didn't actually get to watch the match (which is wack, cause i live in Canada so you'd think they'd show it but nope. i got stuck with Andy Murry *headdesk*) so if this seems complete ridiculous, please let me know
Juan Carlos sighs. He's sitting in a corner on the balcony of his hotel in Montreal, across from Feliciano who looks quite comfortable with his glass of Merlot in one hand and a cigarette in the other. They're friends, have been for a long time but Juan Carlos doesn't know how to approach this behaviour exactly.
"Feli"
Feliciano just flicks the wrist that holds the lit cigarette.
Juan Carlos lets out another sigh. "What are you doing?"
"I thought it was fairly obvious," Feliciano says with a laugh as he brings the glass up to his lips. He lets the tartness roll over his tongue before slowly swallowing the liquid.
"You do still have to play tomorrow. I hope you know that." There's this airiness about him that Juan Carlos doesn't particularly like in this moment.
"I know and I look forward to it."
"Fuck, Feliciano. Stop being a being a bitch." The words come out in frustration but Juan Carlos doesn't take them back. Instead he eyes the other man carefully, hoping he didn't overstep any boundries.
Feliciano settles his glass down onto the table in front of him, leaning in. "Look, Juanqui. If I'm annoying you, just say the word and I'll go." His eyes don't leave Juan Carlos', blue depths calm and understanding.
Letting out another sigh, Juan Carlos slumps back into his seat, his shoulders sagging. "It's just that I know he's back in his room right now, well your room, pacing and worrying that he fucked up in some major way while you're here drinking wine and acting like you don't give a fuck when we both know you do. Just... Just don't put up that bullshit with me, Feli. It's not easy playing against him for you, hell even for me, so don't act like it is, ok?"
The ashes from the cigarette in Feliciano's hand falls to the ground as it remains untouched for the pass few minutes, the smoke still wafting about. He's known Juanqui for a long time now but it's still hard to talk about certain things. He drops his eyes to focus on the fuming cigarette in front of him.
"It's hard, you know? Not because we're together, well not entirely. It's just that... with him on the other side of the court there's always a chance, you know? I would like to believe that I know him better than anyone else, that I know his game pretty well. So when we have matches against each other, so I let myself believe that I could possibly beat him," Feliiciano pauses to let out a harsh laugh that sounds horribly forced and uncomfortable to Juan Carlos. "Big fucking joke that is."
Relaxing a little, Juan Carlos offers a smile. "But that's not his fault, right? You know he hates playing against you as much as you do." His voice is soft, reassuring and Feliciano looks up with the calm still in his eyes.
"I know. I'm just being a bitch, like you said, for no reason."
"No no no. You have a reason. I didn't mean it like that, Feli. Take as much time as you need here, but you know you'll have to face him eventually. Hell, you're doubles partners."
"Yeah," Feliciano breathes. He salutes Juan Carlos with his glass before quickly draining the liquid. The cigarette is dropped to the floor and grounded out by his heel.
{*}
There's a jingle at the door that causes Fernando's ears to perk up. In seconds, he rushes over, only to be pushed against the wall roughly. Lips are on his tasting of rich wine and smoke, fingers curling around his growing hair, and the familiar scent and feel of Feliciano fill his senses. It's like Fernando is suddenly been hurled into a whirlwind; an insistent tongue pushes past his lips, fingers making quick work of the buttons and zipper on his jeans. Then Feliciano pulls away from his lips, his eyes calm, his lips full. He just looks at him for a second, before dropping to his knees and swallowing Fernando without any reservations.
Fernando gasps and locks his fingers into Feliciano's hair, trying to grip onto something. Besides his moans and Feliciano's hum around his cock, the room remains silent. Feliciano keeps his eyes on him, blue serene, as he brings Fernando to completion. He lets Fernando sag against the wall as he quietly but quickly redresses him and rises.
"Feli, you didn't-" Fernando's words are swallowed by Feliciano's lips. Though hurt still faintly resonates within Feliciano, he knows Juan Carlos was right, that it's not Fernando's fault. When they part, Feliciano finally offers a smile before taking him by the hand and leading him to the bedroom. Status quo has been reinstated.