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Alex took a deep breath, welcoming the warmth of the sun beating down on his semi-exposed shoulders. He opened his eyes and stared at Lando, the younger man waiting for Alex’s serve. He threw the ball into the air and hit it across the court.
2-6. 3-6. Currently 3-5. One more game, and Alex would move on to the semi-finals. He knew he could do it. He’d done it all perfectly already.
The ball went back and forth before Alex smashed it long, forcing Lando out wide. He missed, giving Alex the first point. Alex served again, the ball switching sides for a minute before Alex launched it into the net. He shook his head, preparing to serve again. Rookie mistakes. He was making rookie mistakes.
Alex hit the ball. Fault. He hit again. Double fault. He grimaced. Lando had the advantage now, 30-15. Alex served again, successfully knocking the ball over the net. It went back and forth a few times before Alex hit back with an ace, tying the points once more. Two more points. He could do it.
Flying across the net, the ball smacked off Lando’s racket back towards him. Alex responded with a volleyed winner, hope blossoming in his heart as Lando failed to respond, the points turning in Alex’s favour once more.
Another serve. Potential final point. Alex took a deep breath and served the ball. Lando dove… and missed. Alex sank to his knees as cheers erupted around him. Another win. He’d done it. He was through to the semi-finals once again.
Alex forced himself up from the ground, meeting Lando at the net. They shook hands and Alex pulled him in, clapping his free hand against Lando’s back. “Next year, mate, I promise.”
Lando pulled back and shot him with a smile before he went and shook the umpire’s hand. Alex waved at the crowd and blew kisses towards his parents before he followed suit. He couldn’t believe his luck.
Reaching his bench, Alex snatched up his water bottle and gulped down half its contents before he snatched up his things. He walked pass the crowds, signing caps and shirts and all manner of things before he was exiting the court, welcoming the reprieve from the sun.
Semi-finals, once again. What a dream.
- ☼ -
Alex took a sip from his bottle, waiting for the players to pass him in the hallway. He had no competitional reason to be there, but he had a personal one. The next match was Sargeant v Piastri, and Alex had already made his mental bets that Logan would win it. He was quick and sharp, more tailored towards tennis than Oscar was. Oscar still had that cricket air about him.
“Congrats,” a voice called, and Alex turned, meeting the man of his thoughts. Logan smiled and at him and Alex returned it, affectionate and warm.
“Thanks. Good luck to you,” Alex said. Logan smiled and turned his cheek towards Alex, tapping it. “No.”
“Come on, for old times’ sake,” Logan said. Alex rolled his eyes before pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek. He pulled back and ignored the tender heat he could feel blossoming across his face. “Well, I’d better go.”
“Win this match.”
“Or what?” Logan responded, a teasing smirk on his face.
“Win this, because I wanna fight you in the finals,” Alex said. Logan laughed, boyish and bright.
“Confident you’ll make it, huh?”
“Lewis may hold a lot of records, but he doesn’t scare me. It’s Fernando I’d be scared about. You never know what tricks he has up his sleeve,” Alex said. Logan rolled his eyes, a fond smile gracing his face.
“I don’t do fear. Not in tennis, at least,” Logan said. Alex smiled, nodding towards the door when an official appeared to take Logan out onto the court. Logan waved goodbye before leaving, the door slamming shut after him. Alex huffed, looking down at his feet with a shake of his head.
“I know you don’t, Logan.”
- ☼ -
Logan tasted victory on his tongue. Oscar had put up a good fight, like Logan had predicted he would, but Logan had just been better. Fought harder. He sighed and focused, readying himself for Oscar’s serve. A potential last serve.
Oscar smacked the ball towards him, and Logan dove for it, hitting long and giving Oscar the point. He cursed himself but didn’t dwell on the irritation. It was just one point. He could make it all up and more.
With the next serve, he shot the ball back, watching as Oscar went long in response, handing a point to Logan. 15-15. Three more serves, at a minimum. He shifted his racket between his hands, willing the sun to stop its brutality for once as sweat trickled down his forehead.
Oscar served, the ball flying towards Logan. He hit it back with a sharp noise, frustration seeping into his pores as it bounced out, handing Oscar another point. Wiping his forehead with the back of his arm, Logan waited for Oscar to serve once more.
The ball flew into the air before Oscar pelted it towards him. Logan dove forward, knocking the ball back towards Oscar. It continued back and forth for a few moments before Logan knocked the ball past Oscar’s reach, bringing them back to even scores. 30-30.
Logan gained points from Oscar’s next serve, an unforced error falling from Oscar’s side. He was getting agitated, teeth grinding together. Logan recognised the signs and felt a mix of concern and excitement churn in his gut, dizzying and ghastly.
Following the path of Oscar’s serve, Logan smacked it back, easy and simple. Oscar returned it with a crashing winner, taking the game to deuce. Oscar met his eyes and smirked, twirling his racket with his fingers. Logan smiled fondly and shook his head. Typical Oscar.
Logan succeeded on the next serve, gaining the advantage. When Oscar served, Logan took a deep breath and responded with an ace, knowing immediately from the speed that Oscar would struggle to return it properly, if he could return it at all. Oscar’s racket collided with the ball, a grunt from the effort falling from his lips, and Logan watched as it went long, securing him the win.
“Yes!” Logan cried, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead against the grass. He was probably staining his clothes, but he didn’t care. He’d made it through to the semi-finals. The final four. He was through.
Meeting Oscar at the net, Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “What’d I do now?” Oscar said. Logan laughed.
“What didn’t you do? That crashing winner was disgusting,” Logan said. Oscar rolled his eyes fondly before patting Logan on the back, the pair of them heading toward the umpire. Both shook the umpire’s hand before heading down their separate paths. Logan gathered up his bags and waved to the crowds, stopping only to sign some things before he excited the court.
Logan felt like the luckiest man alive.
- ☼ -
Alex was waiting for him as he exited the court. The sun was glaring in his eyes, and Logan lifted a hand up, shielding his face from the harsh rays. Alex wore a dirty smirk, one that made Logan’s gut churn pleasurably, and he beckoned Logan closer.
Logan followed, loyal like a dog.
“What did I say, huh?” Alex said. Logan hummed and tapped his bottom lip before widening his eyes and batting his lashes, coy and cute.
“That you can’t wait for me to beat your ass in the finals?” Logan said, pitching his voice up until it sounded cutesy and unlike him. Alex grimaced, and stepped backwards, laughter threatening to overtake his features. Logan giggled and fell into step alongside Alex, the two of them heading away from the courts.
“Whoever wins, I’ll still be proud of you, okay?” Alex said. Logan hummed appreciatively, knocking his elbow against Alex’s ribs.
“I know. And I’ll be proud of you,” Logan said. Alex smiled at him sweetly. The two settled into a steady walk, heading towards the car park. No one bothered them, leaving them to their quiet walk. Alex huffed a breath of laughter, catching Logan’s attention. “What is it?”
“I’m gonna kick your ass in that final,” Alex said. Logan could only laugh in response.
“You can try.”
- ☼ -
“Alex!”
Alex turned, meeting Logan’s eyes. He smiled and gestured the younger man to come over. He scampered forward, eager and desperate for some scrap of attention. Alex smiled to himself.
To say Logan’s feelings for him were obvious would be an understatement. Logan was like a dog, pawing at your leg as it begged for attention. Except Logan’s pawing was more akin to pressing. Logan was a clinger, following the person who’d enraptured his attention and only letting go when he had to, or was told to.
Alex liked it too much to tell him off.
“Excited for Friday?” Alex asked. Logan waited until Alex’s hotel room door was shut behind them before he sighed and shook his head. “Nervous?” Alex questioned.
“Definitely. It’s Fernando Alonso, for Christ’s sake,” Logan groaned. He sprawled out across Alex’s bed, sighing as he did so. “I’m not moving, by the way.”
“At least take your shoes off, please,” Alex sighed. Logan kicked them off and Alex moved them to be near the door before he walked back over to his hotel bed and sat down on the sheets. Logan was peeking up at him, eyes wide and shiny with tears.
Alex sighed and settled himself in Logan’s lap. Logan squeaked, hands reflexively curling around Alex’s waist to hold him steady. “Lex?”
“You need to have some confidence in yourself, Logan, do you understand?”
“Alex, I really don’t–”
“Do you understand?”
“Alex, get off!”
“Logan Hunter Sargeant, if you do not answer me, I will not let go. So either you answer me, or you deal with the knowledge that I can feel your cock against my ass,” Alex chided. Logan flushed and buried his face in his hands. He tried to turn but Alex held him down, weight heavy on his hips.
“I understand,” Logan mumbled. Alex hummed delightfully and slipped off of Logan’s lap. His own pants were tightening from the feeling of Logan’s bulge against his ass, but he ignored it, heading towards the mini fridge and pulling out two cans.
“Logan. Catch,” Alex said. Logan sat up, squeaking when the cold can fell in his lap. He picked it up and smiled at Alex after reading its label.
“Thank you,” Logan said. Alex crossed and sat next to him on the bed once more, his fingers playing with the can tab.
“I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” Alex muttered, looking up to gauge Logan’s reaction.
“No, no. I was just… a bit shocked, that’s all,” Logan said. His emotions were splayed on his face and Alex finally relaxed. He meant it. He popped his can open and took a sip, winking at Logan over the rim. Logan blushed and turned towards his own can. Alex smirked.
“Good to know.”
- ☼ -
“Good luck.”
Alex turned, meeting Logan’s eyes. He smirked as an idea flitted through his head, dangerous and sharp. He turned his cheek towards Logan and tapped it twice. Logan grumbled but pressed his lips against Alex’s cheek almost immediately.
“Thank you, Mr. Sargeant,” Alex said, shooting Logan a wink. Logan huffed and zipped his jacket up further, burying his crimson red face in the collar. He grumbled something that Alex swore sounded like ‘fuck you’. “Hmm?”
“Just go away already,” Logan huffed. “And win it today. I’m not fighting Lewis on Sunday.” Alex laughed buoyantly and snatched up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder once more before blowing Logan a kiss.
“I’ll try extra hard, just for you.”
- ☼ -
Alex was panting, sweat beading on his skin as his shirt stuck to his torso. Lewis was putting up a good fight, one Alex couldn’t afford to lose against. He needed to win this, to prove himself. Show everyone that his win at the French Open a few months prior wasn’t just a lucky strike.
A tiebreak. That’s all he needed to win. One tiebreak, and he was through to the final.
Taking a deep breath, Alex launched the ball into the air and smashed it across the net. It soared across to the other side, Lewis darting for it only to miss and give the first point to Alex. Lewis served next, the pair of them battling back and forth, before Alex missed the ball, handing a point back to Lewis.
1-1. There was still time.
Alex served again. Lewis chanced a drop shot and Alex smirked, smashing the ball back with a lob, gaining another point. Lewis’ serve once more. Alex inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth, concentration dripping from every pore. Lewis passed the ball across the net, Alex returned it, only for Lewis to respond with a winner. Alex darted and smashed the winner back, leaving Lewis unable to defend. 3-1.
The crowd held their breath as they watched the match play out. Lewis and Alex, two top-tier athletes. A match for the ages, surely. But Alex knew in the back of his mind that Logan would win his match and the two of them would make history in the finals.
Alex served, arms straining with the effort. He was getting tired, but hope and adrenaline kept him strong, stronger than he felt. Lewis responded poorly and Alex knocked the ball back over the net with a drop-shot. 4-1 in Alex’s favour.
Lewis stepped up for his next serve, smashing the ball clean pass Alex’s body but still within bounds. 4-2. Sweat beaded in Alex’s hairline and trickled down his face, dripping onto the grass below him. The sun was scorching, and Alex welcomed the reprieve from the heat that the end of the match would bring.
Smashing the ball across the net, Alex winced as his shoulder twanged. The muscles rippled and protested, his fingers spasming around the handle of his racket. He was starting to ache now. Lewis returned it and Alex darted for it, missing and handing another point to Lewis. He grit his teeth and shook his head. Sloppy.
The next two serves went in the way of Lewis and Alex started to worry. He couldn’t let this match slip between his fingers. Alex hadn’t promised anything, but he knew Logan would want to face him in the finals. And Alex wanted that too.
Lewis served again, and Alex missed, the ball flying past him. The handle of his racket squeaked as he clenched his fist. He bounced his ball off the grass, ready to serve. The ball flew across the court and Lewis missed it, giving Alex another point. 6-5. Lewis’ next serve went straight into Alex’s racket, and he smashed it back, tying the points.
Two more. Alex just needed to win two more points. That was it.
Alex took a deep breath. Bounced the ball off the court twice. Threw it into the air and sent it flying towards Lewis. He returned it with ease and Alex ground his teeth together, smashing the ball across the court. It bounced off the baseline, in but only just. 7-6 in Alex’s favour.
One more. One.
Lewis served. Alex followed the ball, launching into an overhead shot that fired the neon sphere across the court. Lewis responded and Alex darted for it, surprise gracing his features as the ball bounced out. 8-6. Alex had won.
Freezing in place with his mouth dropped open, Alex looked around the court. Lewis was smiling and clapping for him, the crowd was shouting and chanting his name, and Alex dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He buried his face in his arms, hunched over on the grass.
He’d made it. He’d repeated what he’d done in the French Open mere months prior, and he’d made it into the finals. He couldn’t believe it. Standing up, Alex crossed to the net, tearfully shaking Lewis’ hand and commending him for his play.
“You’re gonna nail it tomorrow,” Lewis said. Alex chuckled wetly and thanked him before turning towards the crowds, bowing and waving. His best friend Lily waved back at him, and he smiled at her, proud of himself.
Crossing to the umpire, Alex couldn’t quite believe he’d done it again.
- ☼ -
Alex was gulping down water when Logan appeared, startling him and causing him to choke. Water spewed across the hallways and Logan rushed forward, knocking his fist against Alex’s back. Once he’d managed to get some oxygen back into his lungs, Alex shot Logan with an admonishing glare.
“You shouldn’t do that, you know?” Alex said. Logan frowned apologetically and scratched the back of his neck. Alex picked up his towel and dried off the water on the floor, tucking the cloth back into his bag once he’d finished. “Are you ready for your match against Fernando?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Logan said, smiling sheepishly. Alex patted Logan’s shoulder, firm and reassuring.
“It’ll be okay.”
“I hope so,” Logan sighed before he brightened up, eyes wide. “Oh, I never said congratulations, did I? Well, congratulations! That match was intense,” Logan said. He was practically buzzing with energy, a completely different person to who he was mere seconds ago.
Alex found it more endearing than he should.
“Thank you, Logan. I’m sure your match will be much the same,” Alex said. Logan blushed softly and ducked his head. Alex smiled at Logan before leaning in and pressing his lips to Logan’s cheek. “Good luck. You’ll nail it out there, I’m sure.” Logan looked up at him, eyes wide and sparkling, full of hope.
“I hope so…”
- ☼ -
Tears pricked in Logan’s eyes, and he blinked them away. The match wasn’t over yet. Fernando could still pull something out of the bag. But Logan’s hope was dangerous and deadly, snaking into every inch of his veins, leaving him dizzy with energy and anticipation.
Logan served the ball, watching it arc through the air. Fernando backhanded the ball, stumbling and sending it way off court. Logan got the point, taking him up to 15-0. Bouncing the next ball off the grass, Logan blinked more early tears from his lashes. He knocked the ball in Fernando’s direction, frowning in confusion when the older man backhanded and stumbled again.
30-0, but Logan felt a shift in the air. Fernando was angry with himself now.
The third serve went wide, leaving Fernando unable to defend it. Logan was one point, one much needed point, away from winning. He could do it, he was sure. It seemed to Logan that Fernando’s anger was making his plays worse, not better. It was odd, for sure.
Logan grimaced as his first attempt at the next serve went into the net. He couldn’t afford that. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and served. It went over the net, and Fernando smashed it back towards him. Logan tapped the ball over the net, watching it fly past Fernando and bounce twice, both in bounds. The crowd burst into cheers and Logan finally let the tears fall. He’d made it into the finals. He was going to play Alex.
And Logan was going to win. He knew it, felt it deep in his bones. Alex could beat him out at a clay court every single time, but their matches on grass had always gone in Logan’s favour. With his success in the semi-finals, his spot in the finals confirmed, Logan’s confidence swelled, sweltering hot like the sun he was stood under.
As he rose and waved at the crowd, the roar of their cheers filled his added to his confidence.
- ☼ -
Logan melted into Alex’s arms, a fresh wave of tears spilling from his eyes. Alex chuckled fondly and pulled Logan back, cupping his face and catching his tears on his thumbs. “You did it, Logan, just like I said you would.”
Logan sniffled, wiping his nose on his hand before meeting Alex’s eyes once more. His look was probably dripping with love and adoration, but he didn’t care anymore. Alex probably had more than one idea about Logan’s feelings for him.
“You’re letting me win, right?” Logan said. Alex snorted with laughter and shook his head, a wide smile on his face. He leant in and buried his face against Logan’s jaw, body still shaking with his laughter.
“You fucking wish, Lo.”
- ☼ -
The crowd was full to bursting, every seat claimed by an eager fan. Alex waved at the crowds, perking up when he saw his parents, his siblings and Lily all sat together, cheering his name. His gaze snagged on Logan’s family next, and he smiled and nodded at them before meeting Logan in the middle of the court.
“Good luck,” Alex said, winking. Logan giggled and batted his lashes coyly. Alex swallowed thickly, a sudden distracting desire forming in his heart. Logan was trying to charm him. Alex thought it was bad that it had already worked.
“I’ll go easy, I promise,” Logan giggled. Alex smirked and tugged Logan in, angling his mouth towards Logan’s ear. He dropped his voice to a whisper, smirk deepening when Logan shivered.
“Don’t. I prefer it rough.”
- ☼ -
Logan waited for Alex to serve the ball. The sun was sweltering, his shirt already sticking to his skin, but Logan didn’t move, didn’t fidget to adjust. He waited, predator-like. Alex served the ball, Logan shooting it back with practiced ease.
Alex responded with an ace, and a fast one at that. Logan darted for it, and missed, giving Alex the first point. The set continued back and forth, but Logan couldn’t wrack up any points. He met Alex’s gaze and shook his head, smiling when Alex laughed.
The served switch to Logan and they continued on. Logan wracked up points, as did Alex. He hit the ball in a forehand, wincing as it went long. 40-30, benefit to him. He took a deep breath, winked at Alex, and served. Alex dove and missed, the ball flying past him. Logan saluted Alex as the scoreboard switched, showing 1-1.
Alex won the next set, but Logan didn’t make it easy. The pressure was intense, and the crowd was hushed as they watched the two battle it out. Logan twirled his racket with deft ease, preparing for the fourth set. He was serving, and Logan wasn’t going to let Alex break him.
As the ball bounced out of contention, the tip of Alex’s racket skimming the fuzzy material, Logan smirked. The fourth set was his, the pair of them back in a tie. He could only imagine what the fans were thinking, watching the two of them smirk at each other, toy with each other. It was heady and delicious to him. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for them.
Logan wanted to play every match against Alex.
Alex stepped up to serve once more, his skin glistening with sweat as he stretched his arm up, racket connecting with the ball. It darted towards Logan, and Logan returned it. The ball went back and forth across the court with a rapidity that made Logan’s sweat rapidly worsen until he landed a drop valley that Alex couldn’t react to. 15-0.
Logan wasn’t sure how, but the next serve found him and Alex engaged in a battle of forehands, the sounds of the ball bouncing off their rackets filling the centre court. It seemed like no one in the crowd dared to breathe, and Logan knew he’d make the first mistake. It was too tense, too quiet. He was getting in his own way.
The ball went long, Logan’s racket hitting out at a dodgy angle. The game went to 15-15 and Logan sighed, swiping a hand through the front of his hair. The headband that held his hair back was stuck to his skin, surely leaving him with some rather refined crease marks.
Hitting the ball back and forth, Logan and Alex worked their way up to a deuce, the crowd leaning forward in their seats, expectant and waiting. Who’d win, who’d lose, it was what everyone wanted to know. Logan already knew. He wasn’t letting Alex have this.
Logan took the advantage, readying himself for the first break of the match. The two of them were locked in a heated battle, well and truly fired up. Things were getting interesting now, and Logan could feel the sting of his hard work burning up his calves.
Alex hit the ball back, ending in an unforced error. The crowd cheered at the break, the games tipping in Logan’s favour. He raised an eyebrow at Alex, concerned and curious, but the older man ignored him. Logan sighed. It was like that with Alex, he knew, but it still hurt. They were having fun before.
Fresh off breaking Alex’s serve, Logan started his own serve. The ball bounced back and forth, points racking up between either of them. 30-30, mistakes falling from both ends. Logan lightly dug his nails into his thigh before serving once more. The ball flew across the court, Alex’s racket catching it perfectly.
Neon blurred across the court as the two continued to fight for 40. Logan darted forward, responding to Alex’s hit with a drop shot. Alex managed to respond, a simple flick, but Logan had already prepared his next move, had already anticipated the flick, and volleyed the ball back. Alex tensed as if to dive before deciding against it. Logan’s point.
“Come on,” Logan muttered under his breath. The hush of the grass underneath his shoes was relaxing, and he launched the ball in the air, hitting it with his racket and sending it wide. Alex went for it, shoes slipping on the sun-warmed grass, and missed. Logan shook his fist in celebration, the games slipping up to 4-2.
Two more, and he’d win the first set.
--
Logan cursed himself at the double fault. He’d given the first set over to Alex. He wasn’t sure how. Things were comfortably his, a 4-2 lead, but Alex had pushed and pushed and pushed, taking the first set he so desperately wanted. They nodded at each other before sitting in their separate benches.
Towelling his forehead off, Logan ran himself through some mental relaxation activities. He needed to calm down and prepare to go again. Matches could last a long time, and Logan was prepared to go to the wire if it meant beating Alex and proving himself.
He’d been Mr. P2 for so long. He refused to be any longer.
- ☼ -
Alex was riding a high, the victory of the first set tucked close to his heart alongside the other truths he didn’t want to think about. Namely, the fact that he was already struggling. He was already burning through his energy and his stamina far quicker than he liked. It was a problem, one he needed to fix before the US Open started in August.
Logan shot up to 30-0 as Alex made three mistakes in a row. He was getting angrier with himself, each second that ticked by making his blood boil in his veins. He needed to do better than this, needed to fight harder.
Alex served again, fighting back as hard as he could, but Logan broke him, securing the point and tipping the scales in his favour. Alex could feel the truth settle into him, icy cold contrasting with the fire burning up his insides.
Logan was going to win. Alex didn’t think he could stop him.
--
5-4. That was all he’d managed to recover. Alex was slipping, and hard. Logan stepped up, readying himself to serve. Alex rocked back and forth, racket steady in his hands. He was ready. Logan served and the ball flew straight towards the centre of Alex’s outreached racket. The ball flew past Logan, landed safely within bounds, and gave the point to Alex. He sighed in relief.
Moments later, he was huffing in frustration once more. Logan had scored two easy points thanks to his sharp swipes. Alex was hardly able to defend himself. The crowd kept breaking out into chants of Logan’s name, loud and vicious.
Logan himself had kept shooting Alex playful smiles and silly looks. Alex had glared in response to all of them. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not by Logan’s casual handsomeness or his tender smiles. He needed to focus.
Alex smashed the ball back to Logan, desperate to even the score out once more. Logan responded with a forehand that darted past Alex before he could even react. He growled to himself before adjusting his cap. Focus.
The ball rushed towards him, and Alex flung it over the net once more. The two played back and forth for a few minutes before Logan spat out another forehand winner. It skimmed Alex’s waist and he watched it bounce within the confines of the court.
Logan had won the second set.
- ☼ -
Things were even, tied. Alex was struggling, and Logan hated it, but he’d win. The same way he’d won against Oscar, again Fernando. He’d win, and if he had to drag Alex through all five rounds to do so, then so be it.
Alex served, and Logan tried to break him, hitting back as hard as he could, but Alex was fixed, determined. Too determined, Logan noted. His muscles were strained and bulging, and he winced each time he used his left shoulder. It was disheartening to realise.
Logan got him back in the next game, tying them 1-1. It wasn’t easy, Logan knew that much. Alex was making him work for it, and he relished in it. Relished in the heat of the competition, the close battle between them. It fuelled him to train harder, to perform better, to be the best he could be.
Unforced errors from either side had the third game strengthening, Alex’s serves going sharp and fast. Logan could barely return them. It didn’t surprise him when Alex won the set. No breaks yet. Logan served for the fourth game, and stole away with the win, not letting Alex score a single point.
Meeting Alex’s eyes, Logan smiled sweetly, encouraging and tender. Alex merely scowled in response.
--
Things ricocheted between them. Alex would win a game, then Logan would, then Alex, then Logan. Until the ninth game. Logan had broken Alex’s serve, had gone into his next serve knowing he could win the set, teeter things in his favour once more.
Logan hefted the ball into the air and knocked it across the court. Alex dove, the edge of his racket hitting the ball and sending it careening off the court. 15 to Logan. Moments later, confidence in his veins, Logan double faulted, and he cursed under his breath. How could he be so stupid?
Sweat trickled down his face as he prepared to serve. Two bounces, one heft, one hit. Alex returned the serve and Logan smashed out the ace, taking himself up to 30 in the points. He served again, and nearly felt panic overwhelm him when Alex responded with a lob, but he managed to smash the ball away, taking himself up to 40. Logan swallowed thickly.
One. More. Point.
Logan served, hitting with all his might. The ball flew across the court and the entire crowd stilled, eyes tracing it. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Logan’s heart hammered in his chest. The ball wouldn’t even define the match, but it still seemed to hang in the air for an eternity.
It bounced off the court, skimmed the edge of Alex’s racket, and secured Logan the second set.
- ☼ -
Alex’s shoulder was aching. He knew Logan had sussed that out. He hadn’t gone for anywhere near as many winners or aces as he normally went for. Alex would’ve gotten angrier if he had the energy to spare. Instead, he just willed the match to end sooner rather than later.
The last game lay before them, and Alex was ready for it to be over. It sucked that he hadn’t been able to challenge Logan further, but he was so proud of Logan, so proud of all that he’d achieved. His first major title… he knew Logan would be over the moon.
Logan was serving. It was everything he needed. Logan’s serves could be lethal, and Alex could only stretch so far to launch them back. Logan hit the ball, and Alex responded with a lob. It went over the net only for Logan to smash it back over, past Alex’s still lunging body yet safely in bounds.
15-0.
The next two serves passed without challenge. A hit there, a lob there, an overheard when Logan decided to test him. He did everything he could, but Logan still rested at 40. He had one point left until he was the 2025 Wimbledon champion.
Logan served. Alex responded. Logan smashed it back. Alex lobbed it over the net in response. It went back and forth for two minutes, Logan laughing when he realised what Alex was doing. Alex smiled at the sweet laughter that graced his ears. At last, Logan shot an ace, the neon ball flying past Alex’s body with ease.
It bounced off the court, too far for Alex to defend. The crowd seemed to take one collective deep breath before realisation kicked in and everyone burst into cheers. Logan collapsed onto his knees, a scream of exhalation falling from his lips as he laced his hands behind his head and stared at the sun.
Alex took it in. Logan’s skin glistened with sweat, sizzling golden under the July sun. His hair was sticking out at ends, soft yet roughened by the exertion of the match. His white headband was dampened in places with sweat, and the remainder of his clothes were no better. Logan looked gorgeous, like a modern-day god made flesh, and Alex almost wanted to drop to his knee with Logan. For Logan. Worshipping and devoting.
He couldn’t believe he’d once compared Logan to a dog. He got it all backwards.
When Logan stood up, and met his eyes, Alex smiled. Logan blushed sweetly before crossing to him immediately. He wrapped his arms around Alex’s shoulders, whispering to him softly. Alex flushed at the words he heard.
“You were the best today.”
- ☼ -
Logan sighed as the doorbell rang. He rose from his spot on the couch and crossed to the door, opening it without checking. Alex stood before him, a wide bouquet of flowers and a takeout bag in his hand.
“I figured we could celebrate?” Alex said. Logan blinked owlishly before tugging Alex in by the collar of his shirt and pressing their lips together. Alex made a noise of shock before melting into the kiss. When they parted, Logan felt tears well in his eyes.
“You fucking cute ass bastard,” Logan warbled. Alex smiled and pecked his lips once more before kicking the door shut behind him. Logan watched Alex wander into the kitchen, gently placing the flowers on the side before organising the food he’d brought with him.
Logan watched it all, a cozy domesticity melting into his bones. He crossed over and took Alex’s hands in his, pulling him away from his task.
“Lo?” Alex said, concern evident on his face. Logan pressed his lips against Alex’s in response, sweet and tender, coaxing into complacency. Logan pulled back seconds later and looked up at Alex through his lashes. “Let me guess… you want me to be your boyfriend?” Alex teased. Logan huffed and rolled his eyes before smiling wide and turning towards the food on the table.
“No. After all, you already are.”