Hips don't lie
Title: Hips don't lie
Pairing: Richard Gasquet/Andy Roddick
Rating: PG
Word count: 2,000
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and this is a fiction.
Summary: Richard takes a nice shower only to realize that something’s missing.
Author’s note: The story is set in 2010 during the Australian Open, written to celebrate Andy’s decision to stay with Lacoste. I’d like to dedicate this piece to dear gordos who had brought me the delightful news.
“Autograph! Uh! Hoo hoo hoooo~”
Richard was singing ‘Autograph’ from the Bryan brothers while he finished soaping himself. He giggled at his friends Novak and Andy’s rap and wondered if the brothers had ever regretted their decision of asking them to feature.
‘Oh well, as long as the fans like it.’
The next song up was Shakira’s ‘Hips don't lie’ and he even wriggled his hips, knowing that he was alone in the large shower room. He was one of the final eight players that were still alive in the first grand slam of the year and his colleagues had no business in the showers; he knew that Novak and the Scottish Andy went for a bite - Novak had asked him to join them but it hadn’t been long that he had eaten - and he saw the American Andy in front of a computer in the players’ lounge, searching for information on surfing. His opponent David Ferrer had already left the locker room and the other four quarterfinalists hadn’t had matches today.
‘Ah, I can’t believe I reached the quarterfinals. How awesome is this!’
After a heartbreaking season last year, it felt great to start the new season on such a high note. He was proud of himself and was grateful to everyone that had stood by him and had believed in what he could achieve. He was aware that he probably wouldn’t get to the semifinals but the past ten days had been dreamy enough to make him insanely happy. He had beaten very good players along the way and had gotten new fans. It was a delight to sign many autographs and to feel loved again.
“Ehehe…”
Richard turned off the water and shook his head like a wet puppy. There were days when he had wondered if he would get another chance to take a shower in the locker room but thankfully, the tennis gods had been kind and here he was, happily stepping out of the shower stall.
‘Huh… Where did I put my towel? I thought I had left it here.’
Much to his surprise, the plastic chair where he had put his towel on was empty.
He looked under the chair and around the large space to see if he had misplaced it. Nope, the towel had vanished.
‘Did someone else take a quick shower and grab it? But I didn’t hear anything.’
His loud singing could have prevented him from hearing any other sound but Richard thought that he would still have been able to hear the water running if there had been another player in the showers.
‘Wait a minute. No need to panic. I can just walk out and get my towel, right? I must’ve left it on the bench.’
He was positive that the locker room was empty. He had been alone when he was getting the necessary stuff to take a shower and he didn’t think anyone would have felt the need to come back to the locker room.
‘I guess my brain froze after all the happiness.’
Richard calmly took a few steps, trying not to feel chilly while the water drops on his skin evaporated. He opened the door that led to the lockers, stepped out, and then turned around to close the door.
“Magnificent.”
“Acck!”
The naked player jumped out of his skin and turned around. There was the American Andy staring at him with a naughty smile on his face.
“Andy! You scared me! What are you doing here?” Richard asked, quickly covering his groin with his hands. Oh, how he wished that he had bigger hands for situations like this.
“Hey, Richie. I was dragged here by someone’s beautiful singing.” Andy chuckled and Richard turned redder.
The French took a glance around the locker room. Strangely enough, his towel was nowhere to be seen. Nothing was on the bench in front of his locker.
“Uh… Have you seen my towel by any chance?”
“Sure. I have it.”
The twenty-three year old blinked his eyes. What did he just say? “What?”
“I’ve got your towel in my bag. You need it?”
Richard’s mouth dropped. He had no idea what kind of game Andy was playing. Perhaps he wasn’t happy to be a quarterfinalist in a slam?
“Of course I need it! I’m cold!” Richard hissed but it only made the American laugh.
“Tell you what. I’ll give it back if you promise me one thing.”
“What is it?”
The younger player knew that he had every single right to ask for his towel without agreeing to anyone’s conditions but Andy’s bright eyes roaming all over his body was making him so uncomfortable that he had trouble speaking up.
“Let me buy you three meals and two drinks.”
“What? But I won’t even stay here till the final!”
Richard thought about the possibility of Andy being drunk. He wasn’t standing close enough to smell any alcohol on his breath but Andy’s face wasn’t red, so maybe the American was insane by nature.
“You’re worried about how we won’t run into each other? No need to. We’re playing the next three tournaments together, last time I checked. So what do you say?”
Richard shivered as more water droplets fell from his hair. He really needed that stupid towel right now!
“Okay, you win! Just give me the towel! I’m freezing!”
Andy didn’t waste another second in opening his bag and pulling out the towel. He took a few steps, stood face-to-face with Richard and wrapped the towel around the lean body.
“Ahh…”
A sigh of contentment came out of Richard’s mouth. The towel was warm and Andy was holding him in his arms to make him warmer.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d agree to go out with me unless I took some extreme measures.”
Richard subconsciously stepped closer to the warm American. “Why would you think that? I thought everybody said yes to you.”
“Well, that’s kind of true. But I thought you wouldn’t fall for my six packs or my mouth-watering ass. I mean, you have one yourself.”
The twenty-three year old narrowed his eyes and twisted his lips, “Do guys become pervy like that when they turn twenty-seven?”
“Ouch. I’ll have to ask Roger if he has recently stolen anyone’s towel to take a peek at his ass too.”
“Ahaha…” Richard couldn’t really picture Roger doing such a thing.
“How about we have our first dinner tonight? Or have you already eaten?”
Andy grabbed another towel from his bag and started to dry the dark blond curls.
“I ate not too long ago.”
Richard closed his eyes and enjoyed the fingers caressing his hair. He had dreamed about such a scene but never thought that he would get to live it in real life.
“Is that true or are you just making my life miserable?” Andy did his best to massage the scalp as gently as he could. He wanted to make it up to Richard for his little prank.
“I could make your life miserable but sadly, it’s true.”
Richard added a few chuckles and Andy had to stop the massage for a split second; his body had surprised him and he stuck out his butt so that Richard wouldn’t notice anything.
“You know, I can always use that hairdryer over there.”
The French was stunned at how comfortable he felt in his fellow player’s arms and he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. Maybe Andy only wanted to sleep with him.
“It’s out of order.” Andy lied, not happy with the idea of Richard slipping out of his arms.
It’s not like he had come up with this extreme plan from the very beginning. He had a piece of paper with all kinds of ways to ask a guy out on a date but most of them had sounded cheesy and the rest of them had sounded scary. He wouldn’t have bothered so much if he only wanted to get him into bed but he didn’t want Richard to be a one-night stand.
He still wasn’t sure when he had started to have feelings for him but when he was about to leave for Babolat at the tail end of the last season, it had struck him that he wouldn’t get to sit and laugh with the French in those boring Lacoste meetings anymore nor listen to Richard translating him French articles about him and the crocodile family.
Throughout the years, Lacoste had evolved into something close to a part of his identity rather than just a brand for his tennis clothes and apparently, it had also become the bridge that connected Richard and him. Only when he had almost torn down the bridge, had he realized that he wouldn’t get to rebuild it until the end of his career.
“Andy, my hair’s dry now.”
Andy looked into the orbs that shined in all sorts of pretty colors. It was quite amazing to feel whole just by looking into someone’s eyes. Was it love? Probably. Was it important to remember how it had all started? No. It was important to rather remember how things would go from here. He was planning to commit to memory all of his smiles, his cries, his victories and losses. He wanted to be there for him with each and every step.
“Andy?” Richard put his hands on Andy’s wrists. The American seemed to be lost in thoughts.
“Sorry. You should put your clothes on so I can take you out for a drink.”
Richard opened his mouth to protest but Andy was quicker. “Just one drink, Richie, one drink. We’ve got the day off tomorrow and I promise I’ll send you back to your hotel room within a decent time.”
“Fine.”
Richard pulled away from the affectionate embrace and opened his locker. He could feel Andy’s eyes on his back but it didn’t freak him out anymore. When Andy had declared that he was going to find another clothing line, he had found himself utterly disappointed and it wasn’t only until recently that he had started to realize his feelings. The moment that he had read about the American having limped in pain at Blake’s exhibition, he knew that Andy had stopped being a regular fellow tennis player.
The French put on a light grey hoodie and black jeans and turned around. Andy was looking at him as if he was adorable.
“How do I look?” He asked with a little smile on his face. At least, Andy should answer that he looked clean.
“Adorable.”
“Wow. Are you sure you didn’t get yourself a drink already?”
“Trust me. If I get a decent drink or two, I might finally have the balls to kiss you.”
Richard closed his mouth and did his best not to think about what it would be like to get kissed by hot Andy.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here and you can sing more songs while I drive.”
Andy held out the key of his rented car and Richard picked up his bag.
“So you’re going to learn how to surf?” The French had to say something so that his mind would stop thinking about the potential upcoming kiss.
“Not anymore. I only thought about it in case you said no. Then, I was going to sob in the middle of the waves and be all dramatic.”
Richard chuckled hard. If he thought that he had felt great when he had entered the locker room, he felt even better while leaving it.