Title: The Boredom of Cleanliness Pairing: Marat Safin/Andy Roddick, written for _love_never Required Words: nail, laundry, blue, brush, yard Rated: PG-13 Disclaimer: Not mine, own themselves, never happened, the bunnies made me do it.
Thud went Andy’s heels against the cupboard as he swung his feet, hunched in a sulk on the countertop. Thud, thu-
“Andy!” Swallowing a scream of frustration, Marat looked up from where he was crouched in front of the oven, clenching his fingers around the sponge in his hand until soapy bubbles dripped to the floor. “If you aren’t going to help in here, go find something to do.”
Pout deepening, tongue curling out at the corner of it as if in disgust at the idea, Andy shrugged. His boredom was written across his face and in the soap suds splashed across his shirt, his attempt to start a water fight ending in Marat throwing the wet towel at him with a screamed insult in Russian. There’d been nothing but complaining since, accompanied by the steady thud of dirty sneakers bouncing off Marat’s cupboards. “Like what?”
“Like, something away. Go brush the leaves from the yard, since you’re the one who scattered them everywhere.”
“But that’s booooring.” Andy dragged the word out into a whine, kicking his feet harder. “Can’t we go back to bed?”
Marat turned back to the oven, taking his annoyance out on it with the cleaning spray. As he scrubbed, he wondered what made him think his boyfriend had the attention span needed for spring cleaning in the first place. Perhaps it’d been the vodka from last night; there’d been more than enough of it. “No Andy, we can’t. Do you remember why?” A pause, Andy’s silence from behind him damning enough. “Because you split blue nail varnish over the sheets and they haven’t finished washing yet.”
“So? You needed to do laundry anyway.” There was a different-sounding thud as Andy’s feet hit the floor. “Besides you’re the one with nail varnish in your room. Something you want to tell me?”
Suddenly teasing as if he’d never whined at all; slightly nervous too, no doubt because he knew he’d been being a pain in the ass. There was a second when Marat considered refusing to go with the change in mood. He’d almost strangled Andy countless times over the morning, he wasn’t going to be won over with a weak attempt at a joke, he--
Andy’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Lips pressed wetly to the back of his neck, Marat’s breath catching in a gasp as fingers slid under his belt, groping down. With a chuckle, wicked, breathed hotly across Marat’s ear, Andy closed a warm hand around the Russian’s cock inside his jeans.
“Fuck me here,” whispered to Marat as he arced back against Andy with a groan, “and I’ll help you clear up whatever mess we make.”
A lie, plain as day, Marat knowing just how willing Andy was to promise the world in return for sex but with Andy’s hand stroking harder it was impossible to care. Turning, pushing the smirking American to the floor, he couldn’t help smirking back.
Compared to Andy Roddick, cleanliness wasn’t all that interesting anyway.