tennis slash - My Big Mouth
Title: My Big Mouth
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairing: Novak Djokovic/Andy Murray/Andy Roddick (kinda), implied Roddick/Roger Federer
Other Characters: Ernests Gulbis, Jamie Murray
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Rating: R
Summary: Novak and his big mouth lead the Andys down an odd path.
Author's Notes: Based on an idea in Nolernie fic "Keep Talking". Revolves around Djokovic/Roddick match at Australian Open.
It started because I was running off at the mouth. I seem to have a tendency to do that.
I was trying to convince Ernie how much power I had when I said I could pop into Andy's room right now. He was the one who innocently asked which Andy I was talking about.
So, of course, I had to make it sound as if I could get both of them. At the same time.
Murray, maybe. I mean, we are friends and, though there's never been anything more than that, I would have never objected if Murray said so.
Roddick, however, that would be a problem. That would involve pissing off Roger Federer. Let's face it; Roger doesn't like me very much as it is.
Now that I've opened my mouth, the image has been trying to form in my brain.
* * * * *
I know vaguely that Murray has been working out more. It has been a running joke which of us was prouder of our new physiques. He'd tell me that I scare the crowd when I take my shirt off after a victory. I'd reply that that crowd is laughing at him every time he flexes a bicep.
That said, it still took me by surprise when I walked into the locker room after a match to see him in just a towel. True, his skin is close to white but that doesn't detract from the muscular form. In fact, it oddly goes together quite well, especially with sweat dripping down his chest.
"Novak, what are you doing?" Murray says, walking toward me in an attempt to get my attention. He looks down to notice that something is, er, standing at attention.
"Andy, it's not..."
"Actually, it's cute," he says, fiddling with the collar of my sweat-drenched shirt. "The color starts at your neck and rises up to redden your entire face."
I was taken aback by that. Cute? I seem to have stumbled into a bizarre universe. Maybe in this alternate reality, I can really get this plan off the ground. "Really?" I squeak out.
"Well, yeah. You're usually a cocky bastard so it's rather refreshing to get you to be speechless. It also proves that you find my body mesmerizing, which I find amusing." He gives me a kiss on the cheek. Just when I begin to think this may work, he says, "I hope this image burns in your brain." He's not thinking (or maybe he really is that callous) when he drops the towel and heads for the shower.
Rotten jerk.
I wait a minute, then head for an empty shower stall as I jerk off to that image.
* * * * *
"So what ailment will you have when we play tomorrow?" Roddick says when we meet in the locker room after our round of 16 matches.
"I will be ready," I insist. No way would I let anything stand in the way of this match-up. Not after his comments after the US Open. Bird flu, SARS. Rotten sense of humor. Too bad he's charming as well. "Winner will likely play Roger next."
"Shouldn't jump ahead like that," Roddick warns as he runs his fingers through his blond hair. Playful smile. Stronger than he looks. He'd be the one in control in the arrangement. Maybe it's an age thing or his association with Roger but it seems to make the most sense.
"Because it would ruin your relationship with Roger to get beaten by him again?" I feel the need to say this, thinking my best strategy is to mess with his head regarding Federer.
Roddick's easygoing stance stiffens at that, replying through gritted teeth, "There is no relationship with Roger. That is over."
"So you're going to beat me, then show him who is boss?" When will my mouth let my brain catch up? Antagonizing him was not the way to achieve a three-way.
The American smirks when answering, "Actually, I will beat you, then show you who is boss." He leans toward me, hissing, "I think you would like that," then leaves me with my mouth hanging open as he walks away.
Okay, that was distinctly flirting. Maybe this is possible after all.
* * * * *
Of all the matches, it had to be against Roddick. I wouldn't want to have to retire from a match at the Australian Open, certainly not the year I'm defending the title, but it had to be against rotten Roddick.
Rotten, ridiculously handsome and funny Roddick.
So I was in the locker room, trying to hide from Roddick, when another voice caught my ear.
"Andy, you are not serious." The voice is Scottish but I'm certain that Murray wouldn't be here now. "Okay, so he is attractive but you really think he's flirting with you?"
I don't hear a reply. In fact, when I sneak a peek around the corner, there are no Andys in the room. Just Murray's brother Jamie on his cell phone, which explains the voice.
I hide so I can continue to eavesdrop, fearing they're commiserating about the earlier embarrassing locker room encounter.
"Okay, yes, I suppose if he wanted you to stay in Australia for his match that would imply something. Then again, you do know how to beat Federer and he doesn't. Maybe it's his strategy."
Rotten, ridiculously handsome, funny and lucky Roddick.
"When I see Roddick, I'll let him know you're on your way."
* * * * *
Now I must stay, just to see this unfold. Roddick has entered the locker room and receives the message from Jamie. They share a laugh then Jamie leaves with his belongings.
Roddick goes about his business, checking his watch repeatedly. He's changed into a t-shirt and jeans by the time Murray arrives, wearing similar attire.
Murray's fiddling around with his watch band as he asks, "So is he..."
"Yes."
"Are you sure?" It seems as if Murray is looking for a way out.
"No but it will get him going." Roddick drags Murray toward the showers. "We can both get what we want."
"Well, yeah, but I don't know about this..." They are inside the stall and the door shuts, followed by the sound of a body being slammed against it.
"Don't think so much. Just enjoy," Roddick hisses, the sound muffled against skin. Likely pale skin covered in freckles.
I walk over to the stall, leaning against the door. My eyes are shut as I wish I could see through the glass.
"He's not going to fall for this. Roger..."
"This isn't about Roger! Dammit, Andy. Would you stop being the mature one here?" I try not to laugh as Roddick tries to talk Murray into this plan.
Just then, there's a jolt as there's another slam against the door, Roddick saying, "That's more like it." Judging by the voices, Roddick is the one whose body is now on the other side of this door. "Okay, Andy. Yes, that's the spot."
Murray mutters, "You are so easy." The voice doesn't sound at the same height any longer. As if he was on his knees. This seems confirmed as Roddick groans and a watch hits the door.
I look around, realizing nobody is around. I shut my eyes and unzip my jeans. That's right, Murray, just...
"Oh yeah. Just... you're so good."
"Roddick, I insist you not think about..."
"I'm really not!" I then hear the shuffling of feet. "You're such a tease."
"He's going to hate this." There are interruptions to the conversation and they are sounding out of breath, as if this occurs between kisses.
"I so don't care."
"Me either. He deserves this." Murray chuckles. "That's ticklish. Stop, okay, yeah," muffled by a shirt being pulled over his head then jeans hitting the floor.
I already have the image of this burned in my brain from before so I know how lucky Roddick is right now. I lower my jeans down, then slip my hand under the elastic of my boxers to provide relief.
More clothes fall to the ground. Murray hisses, "I see how come Roger kept you around."
"There were never complaints in that department. Only place where I can dominate him."
It's something I wish I didn't know but it really doesn't hurt right now either. Roger would be so impressed. It also brings me closer. Too close.
I don't even realize the door has opened but it's quite loud when it's closed shut. My eyes open, horrified to see both of them, fully clothed and staring at me with fascination.
After a few seconds, which feel like a few hours, Murray is the first to speak. "See, Roddick. Ernie was right. It was just his fantasy."
Just when I think this is going to turn into an experience I will never live down, Roddick replies, "Andy, you are such a liar. You just wanted an excuse to blow me."
Murray glares at Roddick, his face flush with anger. "That did not happen! We were just pretending..."
"That's okay. I already wore Nole out on the court. I was meant to wear you out off the court."
Their attention diverted, I quickly zip up and sneak past the bickering pair. Just when I think that this whole thing was an elaborate game, I hear Murray say in a soft voice, "You're probably a very good kisser." I think he's facing Roddick but he's staring right at my mouth. Then, just as quickly, he turns away and continues arguing with Roddick.
It's all my fault if I brought those two together. It's all Ernie's fault if Murray ends up wanting to include me because he can't forget it. I'm perfectly okay with that.