She
By: Tammy
Disclaimer: Dude, as if I owned anything.
Summary: Martina and Anna play doubles at the US Open; inspired by their play and Anna Kournikova's Sports Century. Martina POV
Rating: R, for uh barely there femslash?
AN: I hate titles. It was this or "Swiss Miss Princess" or a DMB song.
She kisses her with all her might.
--
She was fourteen when she first saw her.
She beat her easily at the junior U.S. Open. She was the best from Russia and everybody had been talking about her.
But she beat her easily.
She pumped her fist and waved to the crowd.
Anna was almost in tears; she had been defeated so easily by her.
Martina didn't care.
--
She wonders when it changed. When she changed.
Tennis was always the same. Her constant.
Thank god for tennis.
--
Anna laughs and twirls in her skirt. She holds up a hanger with a similar outfit. She presses it into Martina's hand. She tells her that they'll wear matching outfits. They'll be the best dressed double partners at the U.S. Open.
She wants to tell Anna she doesn't want to play tennis with her anymore. She wants to tell her that she doesn’t want to wear matching outfits.
But then Anna answers her phone. It's some guy on the other end.
And her heart quickens. She's losing Anna. She's losing Anna to some guy.
She jumps up from her chair and gushes about the outfits when Anna gets off the phone. Anna smiles and hugs her and kisses her on the cheek. She says something along the lines of knowing that the outfits would be perfect.
She moves to hang the outfit up in the hotel closet and Martina aches at the loss. She wants Anna's hand to stay on her shoulder forever. And oh god, her skin is yearning and she's staring at Anna and Anna's staring at her.
But her eyes look bored.
Martina asks who was on the phone and Anna's eyes light up.
They lay on top of the hotel bed together and Anna croons over some hockey player that Martina could care a less about. It's okay though because she's lying right next to Anna and taking in her scent, and Anna's eyes are so alive as she speaks. She's babbling and Martina isn't listening; she's trying to memorize the moment. She doesn't know how much longer they'll stay like this and she wants to be able to keep it forever.
Anna brushes some hair from Martina's forehead and asks her if she's ever felt like that before. Martina thinks she's talking about something else so she holds her breath and locks eyes with Anna. She doesn't answer because she's afraid.
Anna looks impatient and repeats the question.
Oh. She's talking about that guy again.
But she didn't ask if she felt like that about a guy before; she just asked if she ever felt like that. So her brain rationalizes it and she whispers yes. Anna smiles and it's like they're sharing a secret. And somewhere in the back of her head, Martina thinks that maybe, just maybe, Anna really wasn't talking about that guy again.
She licks her lips and leans in closer, invading Anna's space, hoping to crush it until there's no space in between them and then it'll be just Anna and Martina.
But Anna pulls back and scowls at her. She says they're not little girls anymore; she's doesn't want to explore anymore (she never really did--she was just trying to help Martina get over it) and that Martina should grow up.
She storms out of the room and Martina buries herself into the hollow left in the pillow Anna was lying on. It's still warm and she breathes in her scent; she tries to relive the moment. She won't cry because then her scent will be gone and she won't be able to pretend anymore.
Pretty soon she's wrapped herself back up in the lies, like a sheet, and Anna's lying next to her again and asking her if she's ever felt like that before.
--
She's not sure when things began to change.
Tennis was everything. And then it became secondary.
Just a means to an end.
--
They had both joined the tour. She was Switzerland's pride and joy; Anna was Russia's.
Only everyone seemed so much more interested in Anna than in her. She made it to the semis and finals and won titles, but everyone was 'ooo'-ing and 'ahh'-ing over Anna's skirts. She filled stadiums and boys, and men, cheered for her. She was in magazines and on t.v.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, she cried to her mother-turned-coach. Her mother told her to focus on her tennis and to win titles and to ignore the showboating Anna. But she could see in her mother's eyes how desperately she wanted that for her. She wanted Martina to be on magazine covers and on t.v. She wanted her to have fame and the 'ooo's and 'ahh's of the crowd.
She didn't say any of this to her daughter, but she still knew.
Martina kept winning and beat Anna every time they met. She was jealous and empty, and strangely captivated by the Russian starlet. She wanted to be Anna. She wanted to crawl inside her skin and see what it would be like to be loved like that for a day. So she did the next best thing.
She became friends with her.
--
She still wants to win titles, but even she knows she's just using tennis.
Using it as a way to get closer to Anna.
--
They move swiftly about the court. They talk between points as to where they're serving and where to attack. They grunt during tough three setters and smile easily during the two setters. They try to take care of their opponents as quickly as possible. After all, Martina's still playing in the singles round.
After they win, Anna kisses her on both cheeks. It's just tradition but Martina still holds on to it. She breathes her in; a heady scent that makes her dizzy and happy. There's sweat on her shoulders and she wants to lick the perfectly toned skin just to see if it still tastes the same.
But they're walking back to their chairs and boys, and men, are yelling at Anna. Anna giggles and ignores them, and they sit and chat in their chairs. No longer do they chat about boys and makeup. Anna talks quickly about the game and what they'll say in their interviews.
Martina mumbles softly that she's sorry about what happened back at the hotel. Anna's eyes grow hard, but then a moment later she's laughing and says she doesn't know what she's talking about. She zips up her jacket and grabs her bag, knowing that Martina will be following behind her as she makes her way to the tunnel.
--
Maybe Anna knows too.
--
They won their first grand slam together.
Well, it wasn't Martina's first grand slam. But it was her first grand slam doubles title and it was with Anna, so that made a huge difference.
They went to the Wimbledon ball together and giggled over the boys there. They didn't have dates and they went back to their hotel rooms together while their mothers' got smashed at the dinner party. They helped each other out of their dresses and laid in bed together in their underwear watching t.v.
They spent so much time together that they were like sisters and their mothers were close friends.
Like sisters. Not quite.
Martina told Anna that she loved her and she was elated when, softly, Anna returned the sentiment. She kissed her on the cheek and brushed a stray hair behind her ear. Then she kissed her on the lips, gently and then harder. She cupped Anna's breast and Anna pushed her away, saying that she wasn't like that.
She blushed and it spread along her entire body, or so she imagined. She closed her eyes, fearing she was as bright red as a tomato.
But then Anna surprised her. She kissed her. I'm not like that, she whispered, but we can keep going.
And they did.
It was better than anything she had ever imagined because it was real. Anna's skin was hotter and smoother, and when she tasted it or nipped at it, Anna writhed and gasped. She was alive, and so was Martina. She couldn't get enough of her. The more she got, the more she wanted. Lying next to her in bed, her body flush against Anna's and under the covers, she couldn't get close enough. There was still too much space.
Then Anna would kiss her, and it was just Martina and Anna, and all the space in between was forgotten.
--
She hates her memories.
--
Anna pulls Martina's hair up into a French twist. She smiles and comments on how pretty it is and how she should wear her hair like that more often.
Martina kisses her.
Anna slaps her.
She's crying and then Anna joins in, and they're both crying and rocking back and forth, until Anna kisses her. Martina wants more, but Anna can't give it to her.
It's not just you and me anymore, Martina, she whispers. It's you and me and tennis and Sergei and Mama and reporters and the world…
Martina's acutely aware of the space between their bodies.
She hugs her so that she's closer. She mumbles her 'I love you's against Anna's shoulder. Anna brushes her fingers though her hair, and she doesn't talk about hockey players or tennis, but they're still there--still between them. It doesn't matter how close she gets to her, how tightly she squeezes her.
--
She hates the lies, but she still wraps herself up in them.
She kisses her with all her might. Anna kisses her back with the same amount of force, and it pushes the two of them together. She's pushing herself into Anna.
In her mind, there's no space between them.
end