Fic: Letting Go
Title: Letting Go
Pairing: Marat Safin/Roger Federer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not true
Summary: After Wimbledon, Roger would like to be alone, Marat's got other plans
He can feel sets of eyes on him, following his every move. He takes a deep breath, telling himself to remain calm and not lash out like he really wants to. Slowly, he turns around.
“Could you please tell me why you all are staring at me?” Roger says with quiet anger.
Out of the five people standing there, Mirka shrugs and Marat grins, why, Roger has no idea.
“I’m not going to start crying or anything, so if you could just leave me alone that would be appreciated.” He turns back around and continues to watch whatever he haphazardly flipped on the television earlier. Roger hears feet shuffling, followed by the sound of the door closing. Sighing, he slides down on the couch into a more comfortable position. After a few minutes, Roger realizes he’s watching some sort of sitcom, a Friends rip-off, and is enjoying it when the door is slammed open and a body jumps on him.
“Marat, what the fuck?!”
Marat just laughs, half on Roger and the couch, half on the floor until the Swiss shoves him. Even on the floor, Marat can’t stop howling.
Roger’s not impressed. “Marat, you have five seconds to get up before I kick you out.”
Still chuckling a little, Marat leans up on his elbows. “Option number one, we both get dressed and go out or…”
“Or what?” Roger asks, brows raised. He’s not liking the options so far.
“Or I’ll bring a few bottles of vodka here and we can have a private party.” Marat is grinning like a fool and Roger can’t help but laugh.
“Why doesn’t anyone believe that I am fine?”
Quickly scrambling to his feet, Marat takes a seat next to Roger, places a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him close, whispering, “You are fine, very fine.”
Roger pulls away, blushing and shaking his head. “Can’t you take anything seriously?”
Marat tries to look innocent with his eyes wide, curls swaying when he shakes his head. “I’m the most serious person you know, Roger.”
Roger leans back, a small smile on his lips. “Sure Marat, and I”
Whatever he was going to say is swallowed by Marat’s mouth as he kisses him without abandon. One hand slides into Roger’s hair and the other stroke his arm. Roger can’t do anything but give in. He loves it when Marat takes control. Here, when they’re together, Roger loves letting go because he knows Marat will always have him.
Roger pulls back, panting against Marat’s lips. “So, you said something about vodka and a private party?”
Pairing: Marat Safin/Roger Federer
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not true
Summary: After Wimbledon, Roger would like to be alone, Marat's got other plans
He can feel sets of eyes on him, following his every move. He takes a deep breath, telling himself to remain calm and not lash out like he really wants to. Slowly, he turns around.
“Could you please tell me why you all are staring at me?” Roger says with quiet anger.
Out of the five people standing there, Mirka shrugs and Marat grins, why, Roger has no idea.
“I’m not going to start crying or anything, so if you could just leave me alone that would be appreciated.” He turns back around and continues to watch whatever he haphazardly flipped on the television earlier. Roger hears feet shuffling, followed by the sound of the door closing. Sighing, he slides down on the couch into a more comfortable position. After a few minutes, Roger realizes he’s watching some sort of sitcom, a Friends rip-off, and is enjoying it when the door is slammed open and a body jumps on him.
“Marat, what the fuck?!”
Marat just laughs, half on Roger and the couch, half on the floor until the Swiss shoves him. Even on the floor, Marat can’t stop howling.
Roger’s not impressed. “Marat, you have five seconds to get up before I kick you out.”
Still chuckling a little, Marat leans up on his elbows. “Option number one, we both get dressed and go out or…”
“Or what?” Roger asks, brows raised. He’s not liking the options so far.
“Or I’ll bring a few bottles of vodka here and we can have a private party.” Marat is grinning like a fool and Roger can’t help but laugh.
“Why doesn’t anyone believe that I am fine?”
Quickly scrambling to his feet, Marat takes a seat next to Roger, places a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him close, whispering, “You are fine, very fine.”
Roger pulls away, blushing and shaking his head. “Can’t you take anything seriously?”
Marat tries to look innocent with his eyes wide, curls swaying when he shakes his head. “I’m the most serious person you know, Roger.”
Roger leans back, a small smile on his lips. “Sure Marat, and I”
Whatever he was going to say is swallowed by Marat’s mouth as he kisses him without abandon. One hand slides into Roger’s hair and the other stroke his arm. Roger can’t do anything but give in. He loves it when Marat takes control. Here, when they’re together, Roger loves letting go because he knows Marat will always have him.
Roger pulls back, panting against Marat’s lips. “So, you said something about vodka and a private party?”