Never say I don't give you fluff...
Apr. 22nd, 2005 02:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloficTitle: Twenty Thousand Little Minutes
Rating: PG
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Summary: Roger decides to surprise Andy and reflects on being apart.
Notes: Sequel to Same. Because![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
liroa15 wanted fluff. Two weeks is actually twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes by my – probably wrong – calculations but eh, in aid of a good title…
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be, making no profit, just for fun, own themselves. *deep breath* Good? Okay.
Twenty Thousand Little Minutes
The last hour of the flight is always the worst. I close my eyes against the golden sunset outside the window and sink deeper into my seat, willing time to go faster. Around me, business class is mired in various states of boredom or sleep and I hate them, hate that I’m a knot of tightly wound nerves in their sea of calm.
I didn’t tell Andy I was flying out today. I’m starting to think it was a bad idea not to.
We’ve been apart for two weeks and I wanted to surprise him but it’ll be getting late by the time I get to his Austin house. He’ll either be out drinking and I don’t feel like a bar crawl to find him after the flight, or he’ll be sleeping. Not to mention had I told him, he’d be waiting at the airport and I could kiss him that much sooner. An extra half hour may not seem much when compared to two weeks but when every second we’re apart crawls by like a year, when my nails are leaving curled indents of impatience in my palms as I fight to sit still - half an hour is a lifetime.
The last two weeks have been a fight too; a fight not to throw things; not to snap at people; not to curl up in the bed that still smells of him and cry. I’ve been locked in a constant battle not to count the seconds until I can call him every day, a battle I’ve lost repeatedly when I’ve called too early. His sleepy greeting on the other end of the phone always makes me smile, despite the guilt at waking him up and he never yells, no matter what time I call. He told me to be quiet when I apologised for calling 3am Austin time yesterday. He said if he couldn’t wake up beside me every day, then waking up to my voice on the phone was the next best thing.
‘Even at 3a.m.?’ I’d teased and he’d replied seriously ‘Even at 3a.m.’
The plane shudders beneath me and I open my eyes, blinking at the brightness. The setting sun glitters on the frost rimming my window, painting gold along each spike of ice and it takes the polite cough of the stewardess to draw my attention away, apologising as I notice the ‘fasten seatbelt’ light has flickered on. She just moves away with a smile and I return my attention to the window, listening to the sleepy shuffle of feet as people tidy away their magazines and books before we land. I’ve got nothing to put away. I’ve spent the entire flight thinking about Andy and how the last hours before I see him always move the slowest.
I know time doesn’t speed up or slow down to suit itself. I know my watch hasn’t slowed for the last hour, that during an easy match time doesn’t race past only to drag its heels for a tough five setter. I know I’ve spent two weeks apart from Andy; two weeks; fourteen days; three hundred and thirty six hours. Something like twenty thousand minutes but I wouldn’t admit to anyone that I sat down and worked that out in a moment of desperation.
I know that’s exactly how long we’ve been apart, give or take a few hours but no matter how hard I try, I can’t believe it. Every single clock and watch in the world, Swiss or not, would measure that exact span of time and yet it feels more like centuries, every day without Andy shuffling blindly through time like it’s lost.
Two weeks, but it feels much longer.
We shake slightly on landing, bumping along the runway with a graceless thud but I don’t notice. I don’t notice the Texan heat that washes over me as I step off the plane and I don’t notice the people who bump into me as I push my way through the crowded airport, barely remembering to collect my lone suitcase before I’m out the door and looking for a taxi.
Tennis players are spoiled creatures; I’m used to a car waiting at the airport, usually along with a few politely excited officials who greet me in hushed tones, or my preferred welcome, Andy waiting with dark glasses and a hat pulled down low, half-hiding his smirk at the need for disguise. The novelty of making small talk with the taxi driver after I’ve given him Andy’s address would be fun, if impatience didn’t have me on the edge of my seat. I stare at the passing headlights through my window, making the bare minimum of interested sounds to seem polite but he rambles on regardless of my silence. An occasional nod and ‘Ja?’ is enough to carry him through a one-sided discussion of the roads, the traffic, the terrible drivers and how taxi driving in Austin ‘isn’t what it used to be’ before we pull up at the end of Andy’s driveway.
A minute later I’m left standing in the warm Texan night, the driver’s thanks when I tripled his tip forgotten as I stare at Andy’s house. It’s dark and quiet, the silvery glitter of the parked car, his pride and joy, letting me know he’s home and my heart sinks at the silence. I’m tired and aching from the long flight. I was hoping he’d be awake to welcome me with open arms but it looks like I’ve chosen the one time he decided to have an early night. At least I have a key. Once I’ve woken him up and force fed a few cups of coffee I may get my welcome kiss. Planning the easiest way to ease him to wakefulness carries me through the gates and to the front door, fumbling for my own key in my pocket.
The door opens without a sound. He has an alarm system but after first Mardy, then me and then Andy himself set it off all in one night, it was never used again. For a supposedly secure house, it gets a lot of midnight traffic I think in amusement and lock the door behind me, dropping my suitcase in a corner. The house is silent and I have to reach out to touch the kitchen table in the darkness to reassure myself that I’m actually here. It feels like centuries ago I left home in Switzerland and for me to believe I’m actually in Texas is going to take one thing. Unfortunately, I think he’s asleep.
I haven’t seen him for two weeks, two thousand and more little minutes that each feel like an hour or a day. To hell with letting him sleep.
Each stair creaks beneath my foot as I climb, a permanent wince on my face for the noise I’m making. I start to swear quietly in German when I crack my shin against the cupboard at the top and stuff a hand into my mouth to cut it off, wondering a moment later why I’m trying so hard not to wake him. Isn’t that the point? Nevertheless I tiptoe to his door and slip inside on cat-quiet feet, crossing to the bed without a sound. Andy’s a dark heap beneath the blankets and I swallow hard before reaching out, touching his arm before I’ll believe I made it. He’s warm, his hair soft against my skin when I stroke it lightly.
“Andy?” I whisper. He heaves a sigh in his sleep and suddenly I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to wake him. It’s enough that I’m here beside him and I’ll get to wake up beside him in the morning. I’ve waited two weeks for him to kiss me again. A few more hours, a few more countless minutes – they won’t make a difference, not now I’m here.
Kicking off my shoes and sliding out my jeans is the work of a moment and I cross to the other side of the bed, smiling as the moonlight falls on Andy’s face through the window. He’s curled around something, cradling it possessively to his chest and I frown as I lie down beside him, gently prising the small object free of his grasp.
It’s the phone. Two weeks of 3am calls answered within two rings and I never wondered how he got to the phone so fast. I almost cry, loving him so much it hurts because of course he must have been expecting me to call again. A quick glance at my luminous watch hands show it to be just past midnight.
“Guess I’m even earlier tonight love,” I murmur, placing the phone carefully to one side and kissing his sleep-flushed forehead. “Sorry.”
It isn’t until I’ve snuggled down beside him, closing my eyes and relaxing into the pillows, that an arm wraps around my waist to pull me close. Soft lips press to mine and his chuckle vibrates into my mouth.
“Rog, I told you to stop apologising for being early,” he murmurs. “That goes double for when you make the trip in person.”
“Thought you were sleeping.” I wriggle close to his warmth, pressing my face into the curve of his neck and mouthing wet kisses across the skin before resting my head back on the pillow. I’m too tired to do more than kiss him. It’s enough that I – finally – got here to do that.
“I was.” His tongue is wet on my lips and I open my mouth to it. “But I’ve waited long enough to kiss you already.”
I smile into the kiss. "It’s only been two weeks.”
“Only!” He murmurs with a hint of indignation as he curls up against me, as close as we can get and I’m already half asleep, half dreaming. This is where I’ve wanted to be for the last two weeks and now I’m finally here, it’s as if we were never apart.
Funny, I think as I drift off to sleep in Andy’s arms. Looking back, twenty thousand minutes doesn’t seem that long after all.
~ Fin ~
Rating: PG
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Summary: Roger decides to surprise Andy and reflects on being apart.
Notes: Sequel to Same. Because
liroa15 wanted fluff. Two weeks is actually twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes by my – probably wrong – calculations but eh, in aid of a good title…Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, never will be, making no profit, just for fun, own themselves. *deep breath* Good? Okay.
The last hour of the flight is always the worst. I close my eyes against the golden sunset outside the window and sink deeper into my seat, willing time to go faster. Around me, business class is mired in various states of boredom or sleep and I hate them, hate that I’m a knot of tightly wound nerves in their sea of calm.
I didn’t tell Andy I was flying out today. I’m starting to think it was a bad idea not to.
We’ve been apart for two weeks and I wanted to surprise him but it’ll be getting late by the time I get to his Austin house. He’ll either be out drinking and I don’t feel like a bar crawl to find him after the flight, or he’ll be sleeping. Not to mention had I told him, he’d be waiting at the airport and I could kiss him that much sooner. An extra half hour may not seem much when compared to two weeks but when every second we’re apart crawls by like a year, when my nails are leaving curled indents of impatience in my palms as I fight to sit still - half an hour is a lifetime.
The last two weeks have been a fight too; a fight not to throw things; not to snap at people; not to curl up in the bed that still smells of him and cry. I’ve been locked in a constant battle not to count the seconds until I can call him every day, a battle I’ve lost repeatedly when I’ve called too early. His sleepy greeting on the other end of the phone always makes me smile, despite the guilt at waking him up and he never yells, no matter what time I call. He told me to be quiet when I apologised for calling 3am Austin time yesterday. He said if he couldn’t wake up beside me every day, then waking up to my voice on the phone was the next best thing.
‘Even at 3a.m.?’ I’d teased and he’d replied seriously ‘Even at 3a.m.’
The plane shudders beneath me and I open my eyes, blinking at the brightness. The setting sun glitters on the frost rimming my window, painting gold along each spike of ice and it takes the polite cough of the stewardess to draw my attention away, apologising as I notice the ‘fasten seatbelt’ light has flickered on. She just moves away with a smile and I return my attention to the window, listening to the sleepy shuffle of feet as people tidy away their magazines and books before we land. I’ve got nothing to put away. I’ve spent the entire flight thinking about Andy and how the last hours before I see him always move the slowest.
I know time doesn’t speed up or slow down to suit itself. I know my watch hasn’t slowed for the last hour, that during an easy match time doesn’t race past only to drag its heels for a tough five setter. I know I’ve spent two weeks apart from Andy; two weeks; fourteen days; three hundred and thirty six hours. Something like twenty thousand minutes but I wouldn’t admit to anyone that I sat down and worked that out in a moment of desperation.
I know that’s exactly how long we’ve been apart, give or take a few hours but no matter how hard I try, I can’t believe it. Every single clock and watch in the world, Swiss or not, would measure that exact span of time and yet it feels more like centuries, every day without Andy shuffling blindly through time like it’s lost.
Two weeks, but it feels much longer.
We shake slightly on landing, bumping along the runway with a graceless thud but I don’t notice. I don’t notice the Texan heat that washes over me as I step off the plane and I don’t notice the people who bump into me as I push my way through the crowded airport, barely remembering to collect my lone suitcase before I’m out the door and looking for a taxi.
Tennis players are spoiled creatures; I’m used to a car waiting at the airport, usually along with a few politely excited officials who greet me in hushed tones, or my preferred welcome, Andy waiting with dark glasses and a hat pulled down low, half-hiding his smirk at the need for disguise. The novelty of making small talk with the taxi driver after I’ve given him Andy’s address would be fun, if impatience didn’t have me on the edge of my seat. I stare at the passing headlights through my window, making the bare minimum of interested sounds to seem polite but he rambles on regardless of my silence. An occasional nod and ‘Ja?’ is enough to carry him through a one-sided discussion of the roads, the traffic, the terrible drivers and how taxi driving in Austin ‘isn’t what it used to be’ before we pull up at the end of Andy’s driveway.
A minute later I’m left standing in the warm Texan night, the driver’s thanks when I tripled his tip forgotten as I stare at Andy’s house. It’s dark and quiet, the silvery glitter of the parked car, his pride and joy, letting me know he’s home and my heart sinks at the silence. I’m tired and aching from the long flight. I was hoping he’d be awake to welcome me with open arms but it looks like I’ve chosen the one time he decided to have an early night. At least I have a key. Once I’ve woken him up and force fed a few cups of coffee I may get my welcome kiss. Planning the easiest way to ease him to wakefulness carries me through the gates and to the front door, fumbling for my own key in my pocket.
The door opens without a sound. He has an alarm system but after first Mardy, then me and then Andy himself set it off all in one night, it was never used again. For a supposedly secure house, it gets a lot of midnight traffic I think in amusement and lock the door behind me, dropping my suitcase in a corner. The house is silent and I have to reach out to touch the kitchen table in the darkness to reassure myself that I’m actually here. It feels like centuries ago I left home in Switzerland and for me to believe I’m actually in Texas is going to take one thing. Unfortunately, I think he’s asleep.
I haven’t seen him for two weeks, two thousand and more little minutes that each feel like an hour or a day. To hell with letting him sleep.
Each stair creaks beneath my foot as I climb, a permanent wince on my face for the noise I’m making. I start to swear quietly in German when I crack my shin against the cupboard at the top and stuff a hand into my mouth to cut it off, wondering a moment later why I’m trying so hard not to wake him. Isn’t that the point? Nevertheless I tiptoe to his door and slip inside on cat-quiet feet, crossing to the bed without a sound. Andy’s a dark heap beneath the blankets and I swallow hard before reaching out, touching his arm before I’ll believe I made it. He’s warm, his hair soft against my skin when I stroke it lightly.
“Andy?” I whisper. He heaves a sigh in his sleep and suddenly I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to wake him. It’s enough that I’m here beside him and I’ll get to wake up beside him in the morning. I’ve waited two weeks for him to kiss me again. A few more hours, a few more countless minutes – they won’t make a difference, not now I’m here.
Kicking off my shoes and sliding out my jeans is the work of a moment and I cross to the other side of the bed, smiling as the moonlight falls on Andy’s face through the window. He’s curled around something, cradling it possessively to his chest and I frown as I lie down beside him, gently prising the small object free of his grasp.
It’s the phone. Two weeks of 3am calls answered within two rings and I never wondered how he got to the phone so fast. I almost cry, loving him so much it hurts because of course he must have been expecting me to call again. A quick glance at my luminous watch hands show it to be just past midnight.
“Guess I’m even earlier tonight love,” I murmur, placing the phone carefully to one side and kissing his sleep-flushed forehead. “Sorry.”
It isn’t until I’ve snuggled down beside him, closing my eyes and relaxing into the pillows, that an arm wraps around my waist to pull me close. Soft lips press to mine and his chuckle vibrates into my mouth.
“Rog, I told you to stop apologising for being early,” he murmurs. “That goes double for when you make the trip in person.”
“Thought you were sleeping.” I wriggle close to his warmth, pressing my face into the curve of his neck and mouthing wet kisses across the skin before resting my head back on the pillow. I’m too tired to do more than kiss him. It’s enough that I – finally – got here to do that.
“I was.” His tongue is wet on my lips and I open my mouth to it. “But I’ve waited long enough to kiss you already.”
I smile into the kiss. "It’s only been two weeks.”
“Only!” He murmurs with a hint of indignation as he curls up against me, as close as we can get and I’m already half asleep, half dreaming. This is where I’ve wanted to be for the last two weeks and now I’m finally here, it’s as if we were never apart.
Funny, I think as I drift off to sleep in Andy’s arms. Looking back, twenty thousand minutes doesn’t seem that long after all.
~ Fin ~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-04-22 01:56 am (UTC)And Andy telling him not to apologize for waking him up... awwwww...
Okay, if I continue, it'll just be more gushing. I love. Seriously completely and totally LOVE! *smishes you*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-22 11:17 am (UTC)Yay for loving it! Especially since I didn't get the Datta extract done on time. *smishes back*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-22 06:15 pm (UTC)*smishes again* But you're working on that, right??
no subject
Date: 2005-04-24 12:19 am (UTC)*giggles and smishes back more* Done that one. Need to work on the next one now. ^__^
no subject
Date: 2005-04-24 12:27 am (UTC)*grins* *smishes* Yay!!!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-22 01:58 am (UTC)That's really beautiful.
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Date: 2005-04-22 11:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-22 11:18 am (UTC)You are...
Date: 2005-04-22 02:24 am (UTC)And you call that fluff? The ending, I suppose. *cuddles both Andy and Roger*
So bittersweet.
Re: You are...
Date: 2005-04-22 11:21 am (UTC)*giggles* What do you expect from me, fluff without the slightest trace of angst? All sorts of terrible things could've happened. Okay, it did ocur to me to have Roger walk in on Andy in bed with Mardy but my Andy muse talked me out of it. ;-) *cuddles them both too*
Re: You are...
Date: 2005-04-22 06:38 pm (UTC)Yes. Just once. And you wouldn't have done that to poor Roger. *cuddles him*
Re: You are...
Date: 2005-04-24 12:18 am (UTC)*grins* Hhhmm, guess I shattered that illusion. Ooops. *pets* And you're right, that's too cruel even for me. Not to mention my muses really deserved some fluffyish fic after all I've put them through lately.
Re: You are...
Date: 2005-04-24 01:28 am (UTC)Your muses? *is outraged* We deserve some fluffier fic!
Re: You are...
Date: 2005-04-24 02:24 am (UTC)*giggles* Ooops. Of course you do. Sorry!
Re: You are...
Date: 2005-04-24 06:03 am (UTC)We do. *stamps foot*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-22 04:54 am (UTC)I'm grinning like a mad woman here but my eyes are all hot and wet! Beautiful sweetie!
*wipes away tears*
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Date: 2005-04-22 11:22 am (UTC)Yay! Glad you liked it! :-D
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Date: 2005-04-22 11:38 am (UTC)So pretty!
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Date: 2005-04-24 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-24 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-24 02:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-16 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-02 09:21 pm (UTC)