Series: Bounty (verse:Bounty, PG-13, Andy Roddick/Roger Federer) Title: Bounty Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Roddick/Federer Summary: Andy’s got a $500 bounty on his head and everyone is stalking him. Roger just seems to find the whole thing amusing. Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, never met them and they probably wouldn't want me to. All real people mentioned during this fic own themselves and I make no claims any of this actually happened. Other than the Australian's $500 bet which was apparently genuine. Notes: Set around the 2004 Olympics in Athens; specifically Thursday August 19th, the day after Andy lost his match to Fernando Gonzalez of Chile. Roger lost the Tuesday in both the doubles and singles.
And yes, from what I’ve read Athens’ National Gardens is indeed overrun with ducks. :)
“Ducks,” Andy confirmed, smiling at the rapturous expression on Roger’s face. Around them the National Gardens were cool and quiet except for the quacking of the duck army now assaulting Roger’s feet, fighting over the scraps of the doughnuts they’d bought by the gate. Andy waded through them, brushing aside flying feathers and sank down on a nearby shady bench in silent relief. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes - he was tired and full and people had been stalking him all day. It was blissful to be able to just sit and listen to the sort of relaxing sound of the ducks and Roger’s amused voice murmuring something too soft to be audible.
Someone sat next to him, leaning warm against his arm and Andy knew it was Roger without opening his eyes. “Sick of the ducks already?”
“Nein. They ate all the doughnuts.” Roger sounded a little worried. “We should buy some more.”
“They’ll get fat.” Andy shifted a little so he could use the Swiss’ shoulder as a convenient pillow and hiked his feet up on the bench when he felt a duck peck his ankle. “Ouch. Now they’re trying to eat me!”
“Eat you? What-“ Roger’s amused voice broke off abruptly and Andy cracked an eye open to see. A teenager waving a notebook and wearing a broad smile was bearing down on them.
“Damn. Pretend I’m not here.” Andy shut his eyes again quickly and feigned sleep. Roger’s chuckle had an exasperated edge but Andy noted gratefully he stayed very still so his shoulder a.k.a. Andy’s pillow didn’t move too much.
“Guten tag!” Andy knew enough German to recognise it and labelled the approaching fan “Roger’s” with huge relief. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with more half-disappointed sympathy that only reminded him that he was a loser. Every time he thought he was managing to forget…
It came as a shock to realise he hadn’t even thought about being out of the Olympics since… since he’d first met Roger in the Plaka hours ago. Even remembering now didn’t sting as much as it had that morning. True no one had brought it up – in fact he’d managed to talk to Roger for most of the day with hardly more than the occasional passing mention of tennis.
While he was musing over that, Roger and the fan were chatting in German, the Swiss trying to sign the notebook without dislodging Andy from his shoulder. There was a moment when the fan seemed to ask a question and Roger replied with a laugh, his hair brushing Andy’s cheek as he shook his head. A final exchange of “Vielen Dank, auf wiedersehen!” which Andy – not without difficulty – translated as ‘Thanks very much, bye’ and an angry quacking of ducks indicated the fan was pushing his way through them back to the path.
“What did he say?” Andy demanded without opening his eyes. He could feel Roger grinning without even opening his eyes.
“He asked if you were also famous.”
“Oh.” Andy paused. “What did you say?”
Roger sounded like he was struggling not to laugh. “I said no, not really.”
“Oh thanks!” Andy sat up, poking Roger in the ribs. The Swiss squirmed away, trying desperately to fend him off but, having discovered Roger’s weakness Andy was relentless. The tickle-war ended when Roger ran out of bench to retreat along and fell off the end, followed by Andy who couldn’t stop in time. As they sat on the ground, surrounded by startled ducks and flying feathers, Andy could’ve sworn he heard girly giggling from nearby but a quick glance around showed nothing but trees and rocks.
“Truce?!” Roger held up his hands defensively. Andy grinned.
“Well okay… if you tell me why you’re stalking me.” He climbed to his feet, brushing dirt from his jeans and offering a hand to help Roger up. The Swiss took it and a second later dismay flashed across his face when Andy’s grip tightened.
“Third time lucky. I own your hand.” The American grinned wickedly, hauling Roger upright. It did occur to him they were holding hands in the middle of a public park but letting go would mean admitting defeat. “I’d be willing to trade it back for an explanation I suppose…”
“Okay!” Roger glanced up through the trees; the sun was already sinking lower, slanting through the leaves in bars of gold. “I’ll tell you back at the Village. I need to be going back soon to meet Mirka.”
“Deal.” Andy let go of his hand, not without regret – he felt like he’d once again been manoeuvred out of an explanation. “Want to head back now?”
“Ja, but no rush.” Roger shooed ducks out the way as he stepped onto the path. “We can walk through the gardens first if you like.”
“Sounds good.” Andy followed him down the path for a few steps in silence, taking a deep breath of the humid air. “I can’t wait to get home to some more normal weather.”
“I don’t know. I like hot, if I don’t have to play tennis in it,” Roger remarked, pausing to entice over a stray cat. It gave him a disdainful look and disappeared into the bushes. “And I love the animals here. There’s so many of them.”
“Yeah, it’s like a zoo.” Andy spotted three more cats, two lazing in a patch of sun and a third stalking a small duck. “It doesn’t feel anything like home.”
Roger glanced over at him thoughtfully. Andy caught the look and frowned. “What?”
“Do you get homesick?” the Swiss asked quietly. Andy hesitated.
“Well… yeah. Doesn’t everyone? I miss my lake and my house and my family. Plus not being able to get a dog because of travelling sucks.” He shrugged. “It’s just one of those things. Don’t you miss Switzerland?”
“All the time.” Roger looked around at the gardens with a small smile. “Here’s beautiful and I love beaches and mountains can get boring you know but… nothing compares to home.”
“Now you’re getting all nostalgic on me. Stop it, it makes me nervous,” Andy said lightly but nevertheless rested a comforting hand on Roger’s shoulder. The Swiss cast a small smile back at him before looking quickly back at the path.
“Roger?” Andy said slowly after a few moments of them wandering down the path in silence. “Can I just say, regardless of why you’re stalking me and what ulterior motives you may have, I had fun hanging out with you today. You’re not as bad as I thought.”
Roger hesitated, looking torn between amusement and confusion. “… Danke. I think.”
“What? Oh.” Andy grinned as his thinking caught up with his hearing. “You should speak German more often. You sound cute when you aren’t insulting me.”
“Cute?” Roger repeated disbelievingly. Andy bit back a laugh.
“Well you do.”
“Cute?!”
“Hush and I’ll buy you coffee,” Andy offered, spotting a small outdoor café just off the path up ahead. Roger, still shaking his head incredulously, sighed.
“I suppose I will let you bribe me.”
“How so very generous of you,” Andy teased and took a running-leapfrog jump over the railing around the café. Roger ducked more sedately under it and stood back suspiciously as Andy pulled a chair out for him.
“Is this part of being bribed?” he asked warily.
“I could be just displaying my good manners,” Andy offered, then grinned at Roger’s disbelieving glance. “Or it could be part of the being bribed, yeah.”
Roger sat down cautiously, watching Andy take the seat opposite. “I was not really that offended,” he admitted and smiled. “I have also enjoyed ‘hanging out’ with you today.”
“I noticed. You were stalking me,” Andy pointed out lightly, waving to catch the waiter’s attention. “Since we’re sitting down in a nice, quiet park, and since you promised to tell me why you’ve been stalking me anyway, why not tell me now?”
Roger leaned back in his chair, wincing a little at the creak of rusty metal. “It is that important to you to know?”
Andy thought about it. Roger had been surprisingly good company all day, apart from the minor disagreements. It had been better than wandering around miserably by himself and he’d learned that the Swiss was more fun than he’d thought. If pushing the issue meant that they couldn’t do this again… then he really would rather not know.
“No,” he said slowly. “It isn’t.”
~
“You’re kidding right?” Andy stared incredulously at Roger as they were leaving the park half an hour later. Roger frowned.
“No… should I be?”
“Man, I don’t believe you think being given a cow is old fashioned.” Andy shook his head in disbelief. “It’s cool is what it is.”
“I did not mean old fashioned in a bad way-“ Roger tried to intervene but Andy cut him off.
“If I ever did something good enough for my country to give me presents I’d probably get a Ferrari or a big cheque or maybe if I was really delusional ten beautiful girls to be my harem, but you just won some tennis tournaments and your country thought that deserved a reward so they gave you a cow. Which you called Juliette. Don’t you know how adorably quaint that is?”
Roger leapt on the word. “Quaint as in old-fashioned-“
“No way! Quaint as in cool,” Andy insisted emphatically. “Fuck. I would kill to be given a cow. It means so much more than some flashy piece of tack that they probably wouldn’t have even thought about anyway. A cow shows effort and appreciation.” He lifted his hat to rearrange his hair, satisfied he’d won the argument. “Plus I’ve seen pictures of Juliet. She’s really cute.”
“Better than a harem of ten beautiful girls?” Roger asked wickedly.
Andy hesitated thoughtfully. “I don’t know… what’s she like in bed?”
Roger’s half-stunned, half-amused hiss of “Andy!!” prompted a broad grin.
“Fuck I love winding you up- oh sorry!”
The latter was directed at the blond woman he’d just bumped into while laughing at Roger. Her shorter, dark haired companion quickly ducked her head and dragged the blond woman away with a muttered ‘sorry’ but not before Andy had recognised Naomi Castle and another Australian girl he vaguely knew.
“Are you fucking stalking me or something?” he yelled after them but got only distant giggles in reply. He rounded on Roger who was trying to be invisible against a dusty brick wall.
“Does this have anything to do with you?”
“Why would it?” Roger asked back calmly but he avoided meeting Andy’s eyes. “Maybe they are just sightseeing.”
“Sightseeing my ass!” Andy turned and stalked off down the street, stamping his feet hard enough to raise clouds of dust – so he didn’t hear Roger’s appreciative murmur of, “I don’t blame them,” before the Swiss hurried to catch up.
“I mean there’s a bet and then there’s plain stalking,” Andy was saying in irritation as Roger reached him. “If they’re going to assault me why don’t they just do it so I can get on with wallowing in misery over losing.”
“You aren’t wallowing,” Roger said quietly. Andy shot him a quick glance, laced with annoyance.
“I might be.”
“Andy when you are miserable you complain. You’ve hardly complained once today.” Roger paused thoughtfully. “Except about the lack of coffee mugs and being stalked and having to climb a hill-“
“Mountain. And just because you can hide being depressed doesn’t mean I should.” Andy said grumpily. Roger blinked in surprise, so distracted he almost stepped out in front of a car when they reached a road. Andy grabbed his arm, yanking him back on the pavement.
“I’m not depressed,” the Swiss insisted pensively as Andy made a rude gesture at the passing driver. The American looked back at him and sighed.
“Roger you may know that I don’t shut up when I’m miserable but I’ve just spent an entire day with you and hardly once have you mentioned tennis or the Olympics or the oh-so-spectacular way you got your ass kicked, twice. Which for you means you’re depressed.”
“I’m not. I was, this morning.” Roger added slowly. “But… I stopped thinking about it.”
“Yeah.” Andy looked at him as they crossed the road and turned left into the Athlete’s Village, a little surprised. “So did I. Guess we took each other’s minds off it.”
Roger’s smile was sudden and unexpected. Without really knowing why Andy found himself grinning back as they crossed another road and found themselves outside the American buildings, draped with the stars and stripes from every balcony.
“Do Americans ever do things subtly?” Roger asked as he surveyed the mass of flags, his smile fading to a smirk. Andy raised an eyebrow and fumbled through his pockets for his key.
“Excuse me? My country isn’t the one with the model of a cow outside their rooms.”
“Leave our cow out of this,” Roger insisted but couldn’t keep a straight face. A few passing journalists gave them nervous looks as they both cracked up.
“Sorry,” Andy apologised when he’d caught his breath again. “Didn’t realise the cow was off limits. You Europeans are a little too obsessed with livestock, has anyone ever told you that?”
“Strangely, no.” Roger’s smile faded as Andy found his keys and stood dangling them uncertainly from a finger. “I guess…”
Andy heard the finality in Roger’s tone and his heart sank. This had been a good day – despite his Australian stalkers - and if he went back to his room it’d be over. Having fun hanging with Roger was surprising enough but not wanting the Swiss to leave… he dismissed the thought and said the first thing that came into his head. “Want to go for a coffee?”
“Another one?” The smile was back with the quirk that by now Andy knew meant Roger was pleased and trying not to show it. “You drink too much caffeine.”
“Yeah that’s me. Caffeine nut. So, was that a yes?” Andy didn’t wait for an answer. “Fantastic. Do you mind stopping by my room first? I need to grab a jacket.”
“In… there?” Roger looked up at the buildings strewn with American flags, suddenly visibly nervous. “But…”
“They don’t bite,” Andy started to reassure him then remembered the brief pillow fight he’d had with Mardy a few days ago and the teeth marks he still had on his arm as a result. “Well,” he added thoughtfully. “They don’t bite hard. Come on.” He grabbed Roger’s arm and dragged him, reluctantly, inside.
No one stopped them as they headed through the lobby and up the stairs, although they drew a few surprised glances. There were no rules about bringing in guests from other countries but if the American athletes and coaches had been asked who Andy Roddick was least likely to bring up to his room, Roger Federer would’ve been very close to the top of the list. Andy smirked in response to the looks but noticed Roger keeping close to him and didn’t stop to chat. Last thing he wanted to do was scare the Swiss away.
Which led to some uncomfortable thoughts, thoughts that he squashed as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to become good friends with Roger. It’d make losing to him, already one of the hardest things Andy had had to live through in his professional career, that much harder.
It took a few seconds for him to realize he’d just spent – and enjoyed spending - the entire day with Roger and it was probably too late to back out now.
“What floor are you on?” Roger asked, slightly breathless as they reached the top of the second staircase. Andy glanced back with a grin.
“This one. Almost there.”
“Good.” Roger fell silent as they walked down the corridor, Andy absently greeting the lone American who passed them and disappeared downstairs. Reaching his door Andy stopped, sorting through his keys for the right one.
“Damn. I know I had it a second ago-“
“Andy,” Roger said quietly. Andy glanced up, distracted.
“Yeah?”
“I want to apologise.”
Andy smiled, half-confused, half-amused, his search for the key still holding most of his attention. “For what?”
Roger was avoiding his eyes, studying the floor in apparent fascination. “For what I’m about to do.”
Andy started to laugh then broke off, hesitated, key dangling forgotten from his fingertips. The Swiss sounded utterly serious. “What would that be?”
Roger glanced up. His sudden smile was too bright, too anxious.
“This.”
And in one swift, sure movement he pushed Andy back against the wall and kissed him.
Whoa. Whoa.
It was a full on kiss, tongues and the sharp scrape of teeth, one hand resting on Andy’s hip while the other came up to grip the American’s shoulder. Andy went numb with shock; any attempt to wriggle free curtailed by the paralysing surprise of Roger pressed against him, the Swiss’ weight keeping him pinned to the wall, warm lips soft against his. It was too sudden; too unexpected for Andy to control the thrill of arousal and yet for a moment all he could think was “Fuck, this is why the bastard’s been stalking me all day.”
A second later he realised, “Roger Federer is kissing me.” Closely followed by, “Why does that not freak me out as much as it should?”
Before his dazed mind could work it out Roger broke the kiss, leaning breathlessly back although he kept Andy pinned to the wall. The American blinked, lips still parted in shock.
“You know those Australians we’ve been seeing all day?” Roger murmured, as if everything was normal and he hadn’t just kissed Andy in full view of anyone walking down the corridor, which thankfully right now was ‘no one’. Andy swallowed, trying to find his voice.
“… Yeah.”
“They weren’t stalking you,” Roger admitted, his voice hardly above a whisper. Andy could still taste the coffee-sugar-doughnut flavour of the Swiss’ tongue in his mouth. It was distracting. Even more distracting was his disappointment that Roger had stopped.
“Oh,” was all he could manage to come up with in reply.
“They were checking up on me.”
“Oh. Oh.” Andy got an abrupt sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was that the word ‘bet’ was looming up in Roger’s next sentence.
“They bet me eight hundred dollars to kiss you.”
God he hated being right.
Roger’s smile had an edge of wickedness. “I didn’t tell them I would have done it for four.”
“…oh.” Andy knew he was approaching double-figures of monosyllables from over the last five minutes and yet couldn’t think of anything else to say. He could cope with weird. He could cope with weird like waking up in the morning with his hair turned green because Mardy was chuckling in the next bed and there had been dye all over his pillow. He could cope with Lauren calling him ‘Tim’ in bed – though that had been a tough one. He could cope, just barely, with losing at the Olympics after giving everything he had to win.
Roger Federer kissing him for money? Whole new level of bizarre.
On the other hand the whole day was beginning to make a lot more sense.
“So you’ve been stalking me all day because…” he managed, finding his voice. Roger looked away, blushing faintly.
“Because of the bet. I’m sorry.” He looked quickly back up as Andy shifted under his hands. “But I truly enjoyed spending the day with you. I’m sorry if this…”
“… ruined it?” Andy managed an unsteady smile, still struggling with the surprise. “No, I don’t think…” Half of him was disgusted, annoyed, furious at himself for thinking Roger had no ulterior motive for hanging round him all day. The other half had picked up on the ‘done it for four’ comment and was desperately trying to work it out – did Roger mean he’d wanted to kiss Andy? Did he mean he’d enjoyed it?
Was it just the bet or could there be…
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Kissing Roger was different from being kissed by him and yet not-different at the same time. The Swiss still tasted of coffee and sugar, but this time Andy was the aggressive one, one hand curling behind Roger’s neck, the other snaking round the Swiss’ back, pulling them closer together. Roger made no attempt to pull away, though he did make a muffled sound of surprise.
And Andy smiled into the kiss as Roger kissed him back.
“You should go meet Mirka,” he murmured after a minute, breaking the kiss reluctantly but not leaning back, his mouth brushing Roger’s. “Want to go for that coffee tomorrow?”
“Ja... Please.” Roger swallowed, his eyes still closed. “Andy…”
“Tell me tomorrow.” Andy thought he heard a girly giggle though the corridor appeared deserted. He ignored it, smiling at the Swiss’ slightly dazed expression. “See you then Roger.”
He forced himself not to look back until he was through the door and it was closing behind him. He caught the briefest glimpse of dark eyes watching him, wide and confused, before the door clicked shut. Instantly Andy had his ear to it, listening patiently.
“Andy!” Mardy bounded out the bathroom, pausing as he saw what his fellow American was doing. “What…”
“Shh!” Andy gestured impatiently for him to be quiet, listening intently to what was happening outside in the corridor. An Australian voice he knew very well greeted Roger, sounding impressed.
“You did it. Wow.” Naomi sounded amused as well as impressed. “It took you long enough.”
“Yeah.” Roger seemed distracted. Andy bit his lip to stop himself laughing.
“Did he kiss you?” Mardy was unexpectedly beside him, grinning teasingly. Andy forgot to listen to what was going on outside for a moment as he stared, shocked, at his best friend.
“You… knew?”
Mardy abruptly realised what he’d let himself in for. “Um… no. Of course not. Not really.” He backed away slowly. “Well… maybe a little bit. He asked for my help.”
Andy narrowed his eyes. “Later,” he mouthed warningly at Mardy then turned his attention back to the door. He seemed to have missed a chunk of conversation.
“You’ve earned it.” Naomi was saying before pausing briefly. Andy couldn’t see her but it sounded like she was considering something. “You said… you said you’d have done it for four hundred.”
“What?” Roger was definitely distracted.
“Four hundred,” Naomi repeated. “You said you’d have kissed him for half the money.”
“Yeah.” Andy would have given anything to see the dazed expression he knew Roger was wearing. He settled for closing his eyes and listening harder.
“Would you?” Naomi asked curiously. “Have done it for four hundred I mean?”
There was a long pause. Andy could hear his heartbeat quicken as he waited for Roger’s answer, digging his nails into his palms to stop himself making a sound. The door wasn’t that thin but he could’ve sworn he heard the Swiss take a deep breath.
“I’d have done it for nothing,” Roger admitted quietly.
Andy smiled. Suddenly being stuck in Athens for the next few days seemed like something to look forward to.