tennis slash - over the line can't define what I'm after
Title: over the line can’t define what I’m after
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairing: Marko Djokovic/Ernests Gulbis
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Summary: Follow up to all it takes is some time but I’m shattered and give me a break let me make my own pattern. After the events in Dubai, Marko tries to go back to life before but it’s not working.
Author's Note: Titles taken from song "Shattered" by O.A.R. I am actually amazed I finally got a resolution for this story.
To say things are not going well with Ernie’s game would be an understatement. There’s a text here and there so Marko knows he’s not being completely ignored but nothing from voicemail.
Then again, the phone might not be the safest avenue. Marko’s last voicemail message for Ernie was, in regards to the Davis Cup loss to Fucsovics: "you’re losing to players who aren’t much better than me now? I guess you’re trying to get off the main tour as fast as possible. Nice work." The reply of a text with f u was simple and to the point.
Ernie may have a good point about not engaging in dialogue anyway. Marko does miss Ernie’s voice and most certainly parts of his body miss Ernie’s voice.
He desperately wants to head out of the country and especially not deal with everything that goes with the Serbian Open. It’s just another chance for everyone to get their shots in, especially once Novak ditches the tournament to grieve. His parents don’t really want to deal with the event as they’re understandably wiped from the funeral.
The match against Volandri goes about as horribly as Marko could have guessed. He returns to his room and quickly goes through his messages. There’s nothing from Ernie. It should have been obvious there would be no message but it was the only thing Marko could hope for from today and it didn’t even happen, that rotten bastard."
Nobody cares about losers when their family and friends aren’t around." Marko shakes his head and stares at the ceiling. "Sounds so much better when he says it."
* * * * *I
t’s three days after his loss when he sees a text from Ernie and it throws him for a loop.
sry abut ur loss. ur mind lookd elsewhre. shuld be with family in time of need.
"Damn you. You’re not supposed to be nice. You’re a horrible selfish person who is supposed to be rude!"
Marko waits a few hours before texting back a simple thnx 4 ur concrn because he’s a coward like that.
* * * * *
The next few weeks, Marko makes a point of checking the scores at lower level events. When Ernie loses a challenger match, Marko has his fingers wanting to type some vulgar message but he can’t quite settle on the words… and definitely can’t press ‘send’. He’s not one to talk anyway, losing first round in Future events.
He decides to spend one night hanging around non-tennis friends who were good about supplying alcohol. This would normally be the circumstance to hook up with someone but he can hear that annoying voice in his head asking "have you been sexual with anyone who wasn’t involved with you because of wanting to get closer to Novak?"
He wasn’t exactly feeling like the life of the party but he’d be damned for Ernie to be right. The words just wouldn’t leave his head so Marko hoped a few shots could change that.
* * * * *
"This is a joke, right?" Djordje looms over him the next morning, then shouts practically in his ear, "Mare, wake the fuck up!""
"Leave me alone," throwing the pillow over his head, the light seeming blinding even before he opens his eyes.
"Not when I have to deal with our brother freaking out on the phone when he should be preparing to defend his Rome title. If I have to deal with Nole, then you have to be awake," then yanks on the blanket so hard that Marko lands on the floor.
"One, you’re annoying. Ow. Two, you’re not making any sense." Marko feels around for his phone while trying to keep his eyes closed.
Djordje kicks the phone over to Marko’s spot on the floor. "You don’t remember calling Gulbis last night?" Marko adjusts his eyes to the light, then scrolls through the calls. Sure enough, that was the last call made. "He called Nole about a voicemail message you left. Wouldn’t go into detail but Nole is not happy."
"Wouldn’t want to upset the King of Serbia," Marko grumbles, then finally gets up off the floor. Djordje’s spiky hair is looking especially clone-like today. The glare accompanying the hair does not help matters. "Don’t give me that look."
"What you’re being is a cranky jerk. Why would you be calling Gulbis in the first place? Did you two party together last night?"
"Of course not. He’s got a qualifying match this morning in Rome."
That at least stops the lecture. Djordje softens his stance and it’s actually more unsettling that his little brother might have gotten insight. "How do you know his schedule?"
"No reason," then grabs his cell and heads for the bathroom. Djordje is yelling through the door but the words are blurring together. Marko sits on the floor and leans against the door. "I pray you’re on the court right now," then proceeds to repeat last call. Thankfully, goes immediately to voicemail. "Someone stole my phone," adding a light chuckle. He pauses to gather his thoughts before continuing, "I really don’t know what happened last night but sorry to get everyone concerned. It's stupid that I let one phone call affect me months later. I felt miserable before I went out and I’m pretty sure it’s your fault. No, it’s not your fault. It’s totally my fault. I’m deleting your number from my phone because I should get the hint and realize that you don’t want to repeat that error in judgment." He hangs up and buries his pounding head between his knees to control the nausea.
He knows that Ernie listened to the message because the next morning’s call from Novak was as if he’d never freaked out on the phone.
* * * * *
The day before Wimbledon starts, there’s finally a breakthrough. Marko had forgotten about Ernie and his damn voice because it’d been so long.
"You’re going to watch me on Centre Court tomorrow and realize I fucking belong on that court with the big names. That I don’t need to toil in challengers or, worse, with players on your level. I have the new coach and a possibly new mindset. Novak told me you stayed in Serbia for Future events so it’d be a bit much to want you to come for me in my hotel room. You’ve wanted to properly finish since Dubai but I wouldn’t let you because you shouldn’t be fucking around with losers either. Djordje told Novak that you’ve been nothing but an annoyance to everyone and I’m kind of proud that I really got to you."
Marko checks through the missed call list. The only number that appears is Novak’s, the time of call matching up with the message. Hoping he has the schedule right, Marko calls that number.
"Hello?"
"You misplaced your phone, Nole?"
"Huh?"
"You lose the ability to play dumb once you become number one."
"Oh, hi, Marko. That might have happened."
"Why are you encouraging him? You know what’d happened if the rest of our family finds out about your alliance…"
"Would you stop thinking so hard about this? He knew you deleted his number and asked for my phone for a few minutes."
"You’re not really answering my question."
"No, I’m not. I don’t really want to know the details but you’ve made an impact with him. He brought this up back in Australia and is still going strong with the idea."
"Really?"
Novak chuckles at that. "Seriously, yes. Do you want me to relay a message or would you rather call him?"
"Um, tell him…I’ll be watching his match while considering how the previous call ended." Marko makes a note to take the block off Ernie’s phone number… because he’d been too chicken to outright delete the number before.
* * * * *
It’s the middle of the night a few days later when there’s a loud buzz that doesn’t sound like his phone at all. "What?" but he misses the call and goes right to voicemail.
"That’s clever, Marko. Novak had no idea he was relaying a dirty message, which is a feat since the guy was practically born with a dirty mind. Anyway, so you know that I held to my end of the bargain by beating Berdych on Centre, though I did lose next round. I’m done with Wimbledon so I’m vacationing a few days."
"Hi, Ernie."
"Did I wake you?"
"It’s two in the morning. Of course you did."
"I’m doing a road trip. Right now, I’m in a car parked on the side of the road. It’s a good spot. You’re my passenger on this trip but been asleep through the last hundred miles. I need to wake you up so you can blow me. I considered my previous stance on that matter but I can let it slide since you’d be on your knees."
Marko is hearing the words but his brain is half asleep and isn’t sure this makes sense in any context. "I think I’ve missed something here."
"Hey, you’re the one getting lucky on this trip and you’re questioning me? Must be the fumes from the car. Anyway, your hair is messed up from leaning against the door, which kind of works for you. I would have been yanking on it anyway."
"Are you drunk in a hotel room?"
"You’re not fucking listening. I’m in a car…"
"Yeah, of course," playing along with the game. "On the side of the road… and you’re turned on by my bedhead."
"Why did I want to trap myself in a car with you again?"
"This was your grand idea, not mine."
There’s the slam of a door, then the sound changes when Ernie continues, "Okay, fine, the car doesn’t work so well. Get out. We’ll settle this outside."
Marko might be awake but Ernie isn’t making sense. "Come again?"
"I guess I’ll just have to stand outside your house for the rest of the night. But keep in mind that I wanted to keep this indoors but if you’re insisting on doing this blowjob in the streets of Belgrade, I’d go along with that since nobody knows me here. They know you, however, so they’d think you’ve gone into prostitution now that the tennis career is DOA."
Marko bolts out of bed, then realizes his bedroom window doesn’t actually have a view to the main street. The guest room does, so he hurries over there. Sure enough, there’s a car and Ernie is leaning against it, trying to look like James Dean in a white t-shirt and jeans. "You are insane!"
Even from a distance, Marko can see Ernie’s face light up upon seeing the window reflection. "Yet you unblocked my number. So who’s really the insane one?"
Djordje shouts from another room, "Are you seriously still in the house? He’s been parked out there for at least an hour!"
Ernie hears that and has to laugh. "I didn’t consider the possibility of your brother spying on us. Just get out here or else I’ll make this worse for you."
Marko heads back to his own room, phone cradled on his shoulder. "I’ll be two minutes."
"I’m timing you. One second over and I’ll have no issue with forcing you to beg loud enough for the neighbors to hear."
With roughly five seconds to spare, Marko makes it outside. It’s weird realizing how different this feels with Ernests Gulbis and that twisted smile right in front of him, instead of just hearing him. "Sorry you had to wait."
"No, that’s okay." Ernie crooks his finger so Marko will come closer. "Better. I realized this is a lot easier if I’m not losing all the time. Everyone just kisses everyone else’s ass and says it’s not as bad as it looks. But I really don’t liking losing to become a habit, especially since I do know how to win… on occasion. Don’t need a kiss-ass, need a kick-in-the-ass."
Marko smiles easily for the first time in months. "I totally get that one."
"Or maybe…I don’t need a kiss-ass just need to…" then surprises Marko by reaching for his shoulder that’d just had the phone and brings him closer. Ernie lingers by his ear and whispers, "I could probably just speak this close and get you off without otherwise touching you but you’ve suffered long enough. Besides, pretty sure your family could find a hit man and get away with the crime in this country."
"But that’s totally the reason you’re interested," but Marko is laughing as he says that.
Ernie pushes Marko against the car and hisses, "I have to figure out ways for you to shut up," before going in for the kiss.