clo (clo) wrote in clofic, @ 2005-06-05 21:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | andy roddick, andy roddick/roger federer, drabbles/ficlets, pg-13, roger federer |
Ficlet: Kangaroo (PG-13, Andy Roddick/Roger Federer)
Title: Kangaroo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Summary: Drunken conversations and wild kangaroos and... more drunken conversations. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Hasn't and probably never will happen, they all own themselves, I'll put them back when I'm done. Maybe.
Kangaroo
Andy liked Australia. The beer was better – though his American pride would never let him admit it out loud – than in the U.S., the people were friendly and any country that had road signs warning you to be careful of the koalas, complete with cute pictures, was in Andy’s opinion undeniably cool. It wasn’t home, but sitting on his hotel room balcony with a cold drink in hand and his feet up on the table, Andy could almost convince himself it didn’t matter - until a sudden pain stabbed his arm and he dropped his drink with a yell.
“Fucking mosquitoes!” The insect paid the price as he vented his frustration, leaving a bright red handprint-mark around the flattened mosquito on his arm. He was so engrossed in cleaning the squished bug off that the first knock at the door went unnoticed. The second one was a little louder and he glanced up, distracted.
“WHAT?!” he shouted through the open balcony door and across the room. He was too far away to hear more than a mumble of a reply and he jumped up with a sigh, stalking across the room to yank open the door.
“Wha-“ he started again before he realised who he was staring at. Roger appeared to have been taken by surprise mid-knock, hand still poised in mid-air. Andy opened his mouth, let it hang wordlessly open for a moment before he shut it again, finally remembering his manners.
“Roger. Hi,” he said slowly. The Swiss’ smile was tentative as he took his hand back, running it nervously through the short curls Andy still wasn’t used to.
“I wanted to see if you’d arrived yet,” he explained politely. “I… I was lonely.”
Andy blinked. “Oh. Really?” was all he could come up with, kicking himself the moment the words left his mouth. He must’ve had more beer than he’d thought to come out with something so moronic. “No Mirka?”
“She’s busy,” Roger said with a shrug. “Want to go for a drink?”
There were many people on tour Andy had got drunk with before. Most of them, having grown up with kinder European drinking laws, had years worth of practice behind them which he kept forgetting when he challenged them to drink-a-thons. The amount of times he’d ended up with a hangover in some random, fellow player’s bed last year had been enough to make Mardy choke when Andy had drunkenly revealed the numbers at their Christmas party. He’d had shot competitions with Moya, played very drunken strip poker with Hewitt and woken up wrapped around Tommy Haas so many times it was embarrassing – at yet in all the time he’d known Roger, not once had the guy asked him to go for a drink.
“You must be lonely,” Andy remarked, reaching for his room key. “Where’re we going?”
~
They ended up in a bar down the road from the hotel, quiet and nondescript. Roger paid for the drinks and they commandeered a table by the window, overlooking the river. Andy admired the lights reflected in the water, wondering if the glass was fogging up or if the beer he’d had earlier had really been that strong. He wouldn’t put anything past Aussie alcohol.
“How was your Christmas?” Roger asked, taking the seat across from him. Andy glanced away from the river and discovered that whoa, it was the beer going to his head.
“Good,” he answered, forcing himself to focus through the haze of alcohol. This could be bad. He knew from experience how… friendly he got when drunk and right now he was about half a glass away from doing something he’d regret. He knew it and still found himself admiring the play of light across Roger’s curls and the Swiss dark eyes, fixed curiously on him as he struggled to think of anything that he’d done over Christmas that was innocent enough for polite conversation. “It was nice to spend time with my family for once. You? I hear you didn’t spend much of it at home.”
“No,” Roger said pensively, glancing down at his drink. “I… I had things to think about. Travelling helped.”
“Ever think that maybe you were just running away?” Andy suggested, sober enough to keep his tone lightly tactful. Roger’s surprise was sudden and amused, his smile brighter than the lights outside.
“It did cross my mind,” he admitted.
“Well then here’s to running from your problems,” Andy lifted his drink in a toast before taking a huge gulp that burned all the way down. He gasped, watching Roger sip his drink more sedately. “Damn Roger, what’ve you bought me?”
“A personal favourite,” Roger replied with a smile edged with wickedness. “Do you like it?”
“Hell yes, I want the recipe.” Andy took another mouthful, feeling his head spin with vaguely detached interest. He’d known he liked Australia for a reason.
“Andy,” Roger said abruptly while the American was absorbed in the way the lights caught in the amber liquid of Roger’s drink. Andy shook his head, trying to focus.
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember the party we had here last year?” Roger asked quietly. “After the Open ended?”
Andy frowned. He had a fuzzy recollection of mixing drinks, bright colours and waking up extremely sore in certain areas the next morning. “Yeah. Sort of.”
“Do you remember talking to me about Australia?” Roger met Andy’s eyes and held them until the American started to worry they’d been staring at each other too long. How long was too long? Was he too drunk for there to be a too long? Why was Roger staring at him like that? Oh right, he’d was supposed to be answering the question.
“Um…” He thought hard. Dark eyes swam dizzily through his mind – they’d been talking about koalas for some reason and then… then… No it was gone. “Sort of. It’s all very hazy.”
“Do you remember telling me…” Roger started but Andy cut him off, shaking his head then wishing he hadn’t as the floor beneath him swayed.
“To be honest Rog, I don’t remember much about that night at all. I’m still not sure how I got to my own bed at the end of it. Why, did I say anything embarrassing?” He flushed – of all the people he could’ve embarrassed himself in front of, Roger would be last on the list. “If I did I’m sorry. Though I guess it’s a bit late for apologies by now.”
“There is nothing to apologise for.” Roger leaned back in his seat, staring contemplatively at Andy. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
“Why?” Andy asked suspiciously. “If you want revenge for something…”
“Nein! I want to show you something, that’s all.” Roger offered his hand with a smile. “Honestly.”
Andy hesitated. He trusted Roger. If it was Henman or Moya, notorious for their tricks, he’d have said no. Roger on the other hand had never given him reason to doubt the Swiss’ basic honesty. Still, if he’d been completely sober he probably would’ve found some excuse to get out of it – he’d seen Roger’s wicked side before, when he’d teamed up with Henman to leave Safin locked outside his hotel room wearing only Snoopy boxers. The memory of the Russian’s desperate yells still made him smile but the warm fuzz of drunkenness also made him reckless. “Okay, I’m free. Where’re we going?”
Roger shook his head. “You’ll know when we get there. Meet me outside the lobby at eight.”
~
Which was why at five past eight the next night Andy found himself, still with the last remnants of a killer headache, sitting in a smart rental car speeding towards the city limits. Roger looked comfortable behind the wheel, having said nothing other than a polite greeting when Andy climbed in the car.
“Are we nearly there yet?” the American asked after another minute had passed. Roger cast a tolerant smile across at him and Andy inwardly winced. He hadn’t kissed, or otherwise made advances towards the Swiss last night but it had been a close call. He caught himself sliding his gaze over the Swiss’ slender fingers tapping against the wheel and wondering how they’d feel touching… No! Don’t go there. It took a huge effort to force his thoughts into safer areas.
A very close call.
“It will take us about an hour to get there,” Roger answered, apparently oblivious to Andy’s line of thought. “Are you feeling okay today?”
“Now yes. This morning… not so much.” Andy wriggled in his seat, propping a foot on the dash in an attempt to get comfortable. “After all the drinking I’ve done this year you would’ve thought I’d have a higher tolerance by now but no, you Europeans just have to prove you’re better…”
“I thought it didn’t need proving,” Roger remarked in an entirely serious tone. It wasn’t until Andy glanced over at him in surprise that he spotted the tiny smirk lurking on the Swiss’ face. Andy reached over to smack him on the arm.
“Hey! You and your drinking laws, always rubbing it in,” he protested in mock-hurt, before stealing a glance at the speedometer. “At least we’ve heard of the gas pedal in the U.S. Where’d you learn to drive, Britain?”
The friendly bickering settled down into conversation after the first five miles or so, moving from tennis to favourite movies, to music in between silences to watch the spectacular sunset. Andy noted Roger’s deftness at changing the subject whenever Mirka started to come up and wondered but pretended not to notice. He was just beginning to really enjoy the Swiss’ company when they turned off the road onto a dirt track, past a battered wooden sign that read ‘Healesville Animal Sanctuary.’
“”Roger?” Andy asked cautiously, suddenly wary. “Why’re we at an Animal Sanctuary? If this is going to involve anything in the way of crocodiles then I’m not leaving the car.”
“Relax. There’re no crocodiles in this part of the Sanctuary.” Roger paused, looking thoughtful as he turned off the track and parked. “That I know of that is.”
“What?!” Andy took a good look out his window before cautiously opening the door. “Have you seen a crocodile? They have more teeth than… something with lots of teeth!”
“I know. It’s ok, I know where we’re going.” Roger leapt lightly out the car, automatically waving away the attacking mosquitoes. A flashlight shone out the darkness and a woman in muddy jeans and a camouflage jacket appeared out the darkness, greeting Roger cheerfully.
“Hey mate, thought you weren’t coming. They’re close, not five minutes that way.” She pointed back the way she’d come, handing Roger the flashlight as Andy joined them. “Hey Andy, nice to meet you.”
“Same,” Andy replied, a little confused. “Roger…?”
“This way.” The Swiss took hold of Andy’s arm and steered him firmly off the track into the thick trees. Andy did his best to avoid falling flat on his face or walking into a tree, glad he’d thought to wear jeans instead of shorts. He was completely lost, letting Roger guide him through the darkness without a word - he was saving his breath in case they found a crocodile. He wanted that woman to be able to hear him yelling if they did.
“Shh,” Roger hissed, stopping abruptly to listen. Andy froze, unable to see anything in the shadowy darkness except Roger, illuminated softly by the flashlight beside him. There was a click and even that light vanished, leaving them in complete darkness. “Listen.”
Andy listened. He could hear nothing except buzzing insects, most of which seemed to be trying to bite him. He tuned out the discomfort, aware Roger probably hadn’t gone to all this effort just for them to be eaten alive by bugs. He heard nothing for another few seconds until there was a heavy thudding noise close by. He flinched.
“Wha-“ he started only to pause, the instant before Roger’s finger touched his lips. A snatch of drunken conversation floated through his mind, forgotten for almost a year.
“I’ve always wanted to see a wild kangaroo. I never have, all the times I’ve been here.”
“Really?” He recognised Roger’s voice from the memory, amused and curious. “Why a kangaroo?”
“I don’t know. It’d just be amazing you know? To actually see one.”
Andy, standing in the Australian bush in the dark was suddenly and completely lost for words. One drunken conversation almost a year ago… and Roger had remembered. Wow.
“Rog-“
“Ssssh,” Roger breathed, pressing close. Andy froze as there was another thud from even closer and Roger pushed him slowly forward, a step at a time, until they reached a clearing in the trees.
The kangaroos were grey shadows in the dim light, an entire group of them hopping lazily across the open space, more half hidden in the trees beyond. They made the thudding noise Andy had heard as they hopped, the smaller ones seeming to barely touch the floor while the hops of the largest shook the ground under Andy’s feet. He caught his breath as one leapt past almost close enough to touch, leaning hastily back against Roger who slid steadying arms around his waist. The kangaroos seemed to be in no hurry, pausing to listen or to graze as Andy and Roger watched silently from the edge of the clearing.
Andy had stopped thinking, had stopped noticing that Roger hadn’t moved away or that the Swiss’ hands were resting in a more-than-friendly way on his hips. He’d seen kangaroos in zoos of course and in pictures but never a wild one and never this many. They seemed to take forever to all pass and at the same time not long enough, the last small one stopping in the middle of the clearing to look around, staring directly at Andy and Roger in the shadows. Andy got the crazy feeling it was laughing at them before it hopped on, covering the ground in long, easy bounces to vanish after the others into the trees. Andy let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in a long sigh.
“That was… Wow. I don’t-“
“Sssh,” Roger whispered again, gently turning Andy round to face him without relinquishing his hold on the American. Andy let himself be manoeuvred, knowing where this was heading and quite happy to let it happen. When Roger’s lips met his it wasn’t even a surprise and he leaned into the kiss, sliding his arms around the Swiss to pull him closer.
“Thank you. That was incredible,” Andy murmured when they broke apart for air, feeling a little dizzy with surprise and happiness, amazed at how good it felt to finally get his hands – and mouth – on Roger. The Swiss laughed softly, sounding a little relieved.
“The kangaroos or the kiss?” he teased. Andy grinned into the darkness, pulling Roger in close again.
“Both,” he answered and proved just how grateful he was by kissing Roger again, wondering with the part of his mind that wasn’t full of slender Swiss pressed against him why he’d never had the courage to do it before.
~ Fin ~