Author: FancyFigures
1x2x1, yaoi, lime, humor, abuse of tennis rules
Some things are meant to be sacred. Even when seeded against Lady Love.

Written for Wimbledon, and trixie's birthday (albeit early)!

Game, Set and Match

"So why's it called ‘love' then, Heero?"


"What's up, man? You sat on the remote or something? You've gone puce."

"I told you not to bandy that word about... love..."

"Jeez -- so what did you think I was talking about?"


"Oops. Sorry if I confused you for a moment there, buddy. You gotta laugh at the klutz I am, haven't you?"


"Well, OK, you don't then. I was talking about the tennis match on TV. Of course."

"Right. What else indeed?"

"No need to be snippy. I can easily go annoy someone else on a Saturday afternoon. No, put my jacket back, I didn't mean it. I just wanted to know why they have that stupid scoring system."

"It's developed from real tennis, which was played in medieval cathedral cloisters, and the terminology is based on French phrases. They've been corrupted since then --"

"I'll say. It's keeping the balls in the pockets of those tight shorts."

"As I was saying, they've been corrupted since then to the 15, 30, 40 scoring tradition."

"And make sure to chew that encyclopaedia well, or it'll get stuck in your throat."


"Same to you. That gesture's pretty medieval in its own right, I believe. So what about the ‘love' then?"

"A derivation of l'oeuf."

"Duh... egg?"

"It signifies ‘nothing'."

"An egg? How come? They're far from nothing. Damned versatile, I'd say. You've got omelettes -- pancakes - little soft boiled ones with buttered toast soldiers and their tops sliced off --"


"Quit with the gestures, will ya? You know what I mean."

"Well, there is another theory. That ‘love' comes from the English phrase ‘neither for love nor for money', also meaning nothing."


"You'd think that. You're disgustingly sentimental."

"Come on, you have to admit those Brits have a great way with words."

"Cumbersome vocabulary. Pedantic structure. Tortuous grammar. Call their pants trousers, and their briefs pants."

"And score an egg on their bat."


"So turn the volume down."

"You're a fool."

"And you're a fount of knowledge and wisdom and crude medieval gestures."

"Shut up and watch the match."


"Deuce. Deuce. You hear that? So what the hell does that mean?"

"French again. Deux. Two. Two points have to be scored to win the game."

"French, eh? They're pretty cute with their words, too."

"Stop with the ‘cute' business, Duo."

"Makes you nervous, Heero? Sap alert, eh?"


"You missed me. Was that meant to be your attempt at an ‘ace'? With an apple core?"

"Be quiet. There's a time and a place for intimacy. And that's not during the Wimbledon Mens' final. I want to watch. It's game point."

"Is this what they call a love game then, Heero?"

"Don't be facile. You know the score yourself."

"Yeah, I know it."

"What does that face mean? I was talking about the tennis."

"So was I."

"No you weren't."

"Don't argue with me, Heero, you can't compete. I just meant that you're so paranoid about admitting your feelings that a guy could get seriously tired of the whole Play It Cool thing and go home to his own comforts --"


"No, put my jacket down again. I didn't mean it. Just a joke."


"No, I know you're not laughing. Sheesh... but you gotta admit, you could say this game had been made with us in mind."


"Remember deuce? Two, Heero. A pair, Heero. Scoring, Heero --"

"Take your hand off me there, or I'll have to hurt you."

"Hell, there's some kind of sense of humor failure here, right? Just because I got your stoic heart sinking with my quest for ‘love'."

"You said you wanted to watch the tennis with me."

"More fun tormenting you."


"Cold fish."

"What did you call me?"

"At least I can say the word. Love. Outside of a tennis court."


"How do I love thee? Let me count the grunts. That doesn't work for me. No way."

"Put the remote back, Duo. This is no time to play your stupid hostage game."

"Look, I just wanted to talk to you about it --"


"Bully. Ow! My arm ain't meant to bend at that angle. You'll give me tennis elbow."

"You have no idea what that is, let alone --"

"Ha! Gotcha!"

"Don't be childish, Duo."

"I court you, Heero! Get it?"

"God's sake. Let go of my wrist. Are we watching TV or --"

"Or what? Kiss me."

"I've told you, there's a time and a place. I may not be in the mood now."

"Like you've ever not been."


"Told you. At least you can express that OK. Mmm... you taste good, Heero."


"Jeez. You taste damned good."


"Yeah, I thought so too. Better when I shut up, right?"


"So now it's ‘set point'?"


"Set in what?"

"In plaster, like your arm will be if you continue touching me there --"

"Very witty. I'm just studying the mechanics of the game."

"You've shown no serious interest whatsoever in the tennis -"

"Didn't say which game, cutey."


"Ow again! OK, OK, I'm concentrating! Who's the guy in the highchair?"

"The umpire."

"And the guy with the advanced hernia?"


"Crouched at the back like that --"

"The line judge, Duo. Watching if a ball goes out."

"Like I said. He should be at home resting that."


"No, Heero, put my jacket down again, I promise I'll behave."


"So what's after the deuce business? 40 plus one? 40 and a half?"


"But why's that, when it was his fault?"


"That other guy. Someone yelled ‘fault'. "

"That's not what they mean by ‘fault'. It's the term for a bad ball --"

"No, I'm not smirking. Honestly."



"We can talk afterwards, you know."


"Duo, you know what I mean. It's just that this comes only once a year --"


"Take that look off your face, it was an innocent comment. I enjoy watching tennis, especially the final rounds. Why do you always want to talk about the most awkward things at the least appropriate times?"


"No you're not. Step away from the remote."

"Ok, so I'm not. Remote or no remote, I can't turn my feelings on and off to order. Like every time that guy in a green suit calls ‘Quiet please'."

"Don't be melodramatic."

"Awkward, you said. That's what I am to you."

"You quote me out of context."

"Neither for love nor for money, Heero."


"That's what you said it came from. The ‘love' business. Means nothing. In a sports context, of course."

"Of course."

"But that kinda sums it up all round, I think."

"Not exactly."


"You never have any money, Duo."

"Well, no..."

"So obviously I take you for love instead."


"But never for nothing. You're far more than that to me."


"Shut your mouth, you'll catch flies."

"Shut it for me, you poet."


"I never heard you so romantic... wow."

"Almost speechless? There's a thought..."

"Only almost."

"So it seems. And I said, don't touch me there, I can't see the screen properly --"

"So that's my advantage, I guess."

"You'll make me miss Match point."

"No you won't. At least, not this match, eh?"

"Fool. I meant -"

"Like I know what you meant. Just like seeing that frown between your crossed eyes."



"Duo, stop wriggling on the couch."

"Still can't believe you said that."

"About the Davis Cup elimination rounds -?"

"No, you idiot. About the love business."

"Watch the match. It's almost done."

"Then we'll talk some more about it?"

"I'd like to explore the change in cross court strategy in the third set, admittedly --"

"Not the match, you --"


"Ah. So you got me back. Kinda klutz again, right?"


"But a cute klutz?"

"You think you're cute?"

"Yeah, maybe I do."

"So do I."

"What did you just say?"

"Move your head, Duo. Three Match points I believe."

"Wait, I wanna talk about the ‘cute' business --"


"But -- umph - Heero, what the hell are you doing -?"


"No, I'm not complaining, not when you've got your hand so far down my shorts you're inches away from my own bat and balls, and not when there's a chance you'll actually let me touch you there --"

"It's to keep you quiet. I can watch over your shoulder. Hush."

"Ahhh, Heero -- so good - but I wanna ask --"

"No. Critical stage of the game. One Match point lost, two left."

"Damned critical -- whatever you want -- I'm losing a little more than a point here, buddy -- when your wrist does that -"

"Quiet please. It's been a challenging game for the defending champion. His moves have occasionally been slow from the baseline -"

"Uhnn... shit... "

"And he's been a little late on the balls --"

"No -- wait -- "

"But with a 67% conversion of his first serve --"

"Serve? Serve? Uhnn -- serve up any more of those crude medieval gestures between my legs, guy, and I won't be responsible for your upholstery cleaning bills -"

"Didn't I say? Quiet please. Second Match point lost. It's very tense."

"Tense? Like it's only my nerves that are holding me together - I'm gonna -- you mustn't keep squeezing like that --"


"Yes, but --"

"It's Match point. Last one."

"Ahhnnnnuuhhh -!"

"Spectacular volley, fierce return, high lob to the baseline --"

"God -- Heero -- I've kinda got my own spectacular volley here -- uhnn - the mess -- "



"Duo? He won. It's done."

"Too damned right it is. Take that smirk off your face. You distracted me with your protestations of love and your pseudo sports techniques."

"So that's game, set and match to me, I believe?"

"Your couch sports the trophy. All shiny silver."

"God Duo, you're crude --"

"Didn't I hear that guy say something about ‘new balls'? Think I might need a set."

"A kiss for the winner, then."

"Kiss your ass, I'm too sticky --"


"Oh, for Gods sake, Heero, so I'll kiss you and your ass, but just put my jacket down!"


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