Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Notes: Written because it's Wimbledon time again and I've watched the tournament every year for as long as I can remember, thanks to my Mum. So really this is all her fault 3


THE SWEET TASTE OF VICTORY

Agron breathed in deeply. That smell, the smell of Wimbledon. It made his heart speed up every time. He was already grinning by the time he emerged from his car, waving to the fans and stopping briefly to sign autographs. A few asked where Duro was and were disappointed to hear that he'd already arrived ahead of Agron. The same fans asked if it was really true that Duro was engaged to Diona. It was just a tabloid rumour, right? Agron shook his head and tried hard not to laugh at their disappointment.

"Sorry, guys. My little brother really is getting married."

He waved at security – Lugo and Rhaskos - as he walked in. He'd played cards with them a lot last year and probably still owed them a few pints. The staff at Wimbledon were awesome, professional on the clock but great company after hours. Lugo passed on the message that Duro and Diona would meet him for lunch. Agron nodded, it was extremely weird to be walking in without Duro. For the first time ever, they hadn't travelled together to Wimbledon. Duro and Diona were joined at the hip and making wedding plans and frankly, Agron was glad not to be hearing about it every moment of the day. He still missed having his brother at his side though. Thank God Diona was so awesome. Some of Duro's previous girlfriends had been fucking terrible company, but Diona was elegant and funny and told jokes as filthy as any player on the tour. She fitted right in.

Agron's cellphone bleeped, another message from a family member. They were all incredibly excited about his tournament chances. Sadly this year his parents hadn't made their usual trip over from Germany to watch him in person – his sister Leonore was expecting her first child any day now and that definitely took priority. Agron had boxed up and mailed two bottles of Leonore's favourite vodka as a congratulations gift. She'd been griping about the lack of alcohol in her life since getting pregnant.

He made a quick visit to his flat in the players' village, dumping his bags and texting Duro to let him know that he'd arrived, before heading right back to SW19, more specifically, to the bar. After the flying and the car journey from the airport, he really needed a beer. He briefly chatted to a nearby group of groundsmen who were loitering with intent, then slapped hands with Nemetes, the barman on duty again this year, and swapped stories as his first cold British pint of the season was poured.

It was when he turned around, licking foam from his lips, that he was greeted by a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks – a small dark-skinned guy with long hair twisted into a single braid down his back. Agron definitely hadn't seen him before at Wimbledon, but he liked what he saw, a lot – vest top, worn jeans, a layer of necklaces, sandals, a strange twisting neck tattoo, a nicely toned body, and a ridiculously finely-featured face. And there was a free seat at his table.

Nemetes laughed at Agron's poleaxed expression, but kept his mocking views to himself for once as Agron approached the mystery man.

"This seat taken?"

The man looked up, a smile briefly highlighting his face. Agron felt his heartbeat race a little faster in response.

"It's yours if you want."

Awesome. Agron sat down and tried to keep his eyes on the football match playing on a nearby screen. He really did try, but his gaze was constantly pulled back to the man that he was sharing a table with. The man was fiddling with his cellphone, occasionally looking up at the game, an amused smile pulling at his mouth. Agron was pretty interested in that mouth.

He shook himself. He was sat here, like a creeper, like some of the fans who staked out the players' entrance, and he hadn't even introduced himself. His mother's voice scolded him in his head for such a lapse of manners.

"Sorry. I'm Agron Bauer." He offered a friendly, hopefully not too sweaty, hand.

The man shook it firmly, his amused expression growing. "Nasir Attasi."

Nasir. Nasir. Nasir. Agron committed the name to memory, and the man's softly-accented way of pronouncing it. It warmed Agron from the inside out. Fuck. He was beginning to sound like Duro after he'd first met Diona.

Not wanting to drop into the sort of painfully awkward silence that could mean the end of anything before it had even begun, Agron commented on the football and managed not to say anything too ridiculous whenever Nasir responded. Nasir's next words leave him stunned though.

"I saw you play at Queens a few weeks back. It was a good match."

Agron managed to make his mouth work. "Thanks. Donar's always brutal on the other side of the net."

"And he's beaten you before."

"On hard courts, yeah. But never on grass."

Nasir grinned and Agron mirrored the expression back. Nasir had watched him play, more than once. That was awesome. Then Nasir's phone chimed and Nasir got to his feet. Agron failed miserably at hiding his disappointment.

"I'll see you around, yeah?"

Nasir looked him up and down with just enough heat in his gaze that a certain part of Agron's anatomy started paying a great deal more attention. Fuck.

"Oh, you'll definitely see me around."

Agron could only stare as Nasir left, without looking back once. Agron smiled dazedly; it was going to be a really good Wimbledon.


Agron got through the first round with minimal trouble. He played on one of the outside courts, Diona and Duro watching and cheering him on. It was a straight sets victory and Agron saluted the stands with a wide grin afterwards. He paused only to thump a fist to his chest and then point it briefly at Duro, who returned the gesture.

Later that day, he cheered Duro on as his brother got a first round victory too. Agron took pictures and sent them to his family who texted giddy happiness back. There was a slight ache in his heart. He was looking forward to meeting his soon-to-be-born niece, but he still wished that everybody was here as usual.

He hadn't seen Nasir since that day at the bar. Nemetes wouldn't tell him who Nasir was, which department he worked in, how long he'd been around, what he liked. The shit just laughed and said that Agron was fucking in for it. That only served to make Agron even more eager to see the little man again.

There! Agron jerked an iPod earbud out of his ear and zeroed in on the fleeting sight of Nasir walking through the hallway, talking seriously to one of the stewards. His all-business expression was the only reason that Agron didn't go bounding over. So Nasir had to be on staff, that was somewhere to start. Agron wanted to see the man smile again.

But he had tennis to concentrate on – he'd gotten to the semi-finals here last year and he was determined to go all the way this time. It was a goal his whole team was totally focused on; his coach, Dashal, and his manager, and everybody else. Agron was going to make it happen. He could do it. So tennis was the focus. Nasir was a distraction, but he couldn't be a dangerous one. No way.

Agron just kept a keen eye out for him. He didn't have to wait long for another sighting.

When he walked out onto court for his second round match, Agron was focused. Diona and Duro weren't there this time – Duro had a match starting at the same time so of course Diona was watching him. Agron didn't spare more than a glance for the crowds, waving as he did so and nodding briefly at Dashal. Then he sat down and sorted through his equipment, doing everything in a certain order, mentally running through the plan that he and Dashal had worked on for the match. It was when he looked up, at the noise of the umpire settling into his chair, that Agron froze for a couple of seconds. The cameras probably didn't even pick up on it.

Nasir was sat in the umpire's chair.

Agron blinked. He could be hallucinating. He'd been thinking about Nasir a lot lately. But no, the younger man was still there, dressed in the regulation All-England Club uniform of cream trousers, sky-blue shirt, and navy blazer with cream piping. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his tattoo and jewellery were all hidden, except for a wicked-looking wooden spike that he wore through one of his earlobes. He was a total professional and he didn't even spare Agron a single glance. Agron was only hurt for a brief moment.

Nasir had a job to do. And so did Agron.

Okay then. An additional problem to work into the plan. The man he'd been searching for for the past day or so had the best seat in the house for his tennis game. And they couldn't talk. Not right now. Who knew when? Were there any rules about hitting on the umpires? Duro was going to find this hilarious.

Agron shook his head, grabbed his racket, and made his way onto court. Nasir joined him for the coin toss. Agron managed to catch his eye. Nasir's mouth pulled into a slight smile, nothing that the commentators would find unusual, and got back to the matter in hand. Agron smiled to himself, Nasir hadn't completely ignored him.

Now it was time to win.

Agron focused on his opponent and weirdly, Nasir's voice amplified by the microphone didn't put him off at all. In fact, it helped him focus. Agron was hitting great shots pretty consistently and his opponent couldn't keep up. Nasir turned out to be a good umpire too – he kept total control of the match, despite his rookie status and slight stature, and was both firm and respectful. Agron was hyper-aware of his presence but he was equally aware of the multiple cameras and his coach's keen eye, so he kept his glances towards Nasir as casual and as infrequent as possible. It was a tough ask but Agron managed it.

He won the match in just about straight sets. Thank fuck. He thumped his chest and clenched his fist over his heart. Nasir nodded at him, the most professional of congratulations but it made Agron's heart flip. When he shook Nasir's hand, he squeezed it for a moment more than necessary. Nasir returned the pressure without a hint of a telling smile and then gathered his stuff to promptly leave the court.

Anyone who noticed Agron's dopey grin would assume that it was caused by his victory, and it was. But it was also because of the umpire. Nasir was an umpire, a damn good one. Now Agron had somewhere to start.


It really helped to be friends with the staff. Once it got out just who Agron was intently interested in, he got a lot of very useful help. Sibyl, who cleaned the officials area, slipped him Nasir's room number. Awesome. He kept seeing Nasir – brief encounters, passing in the hallways, amongst a crowd outside on the pavement, bunched in with friends at the bar. There was never any time for them to talk though. They did exchange greetings and smiles and some very heated looks, but that was all. Wimbledon was busy madness for them both. It fucking figured that Agron would find somebody so attractive and interesting at the most inconvenient time possible.

Duro laughed at him a lot. Diona just grinned knowingly, which was just as fucking annoying. Clearly she'd been spending way too much time with Duro.

Lugo let Agron know about Nasir's daily walk routine. Perfect. Agron needed a regular run too. The next day, he pulled on his running shoes and headed off to create a purposeful meeting. Wimbledon was only a fortnight. Who knew when he'd see Nasir again? The thought of not seeing him for weeks, even months, was already unacceptable.

Sure enough, there was Nasir rounding the next corner. He looked relaxed and content, sunnies on and iPod plugged in. He smiled widely when he caught sight of Agron. Agron couldn't help grinning back.

"What a coincidence."

Nasir rolled his eyes in reply but he didn't accuse Agron of being a stalker or tell him to leave so Agron fell into step beside him. Their arms brushed.

"Your work's good out there," Agron told him, because it was and Nasir was a rookie and maybe no one had complimented him yet. "Some of the fucks who officiate…..it's like they want both players to lose."

Nasir chuckled. "No names?"

"It's more fun this way, letting you find out for yourself, you know, the horrors of the circuit."

Nasir snorted, seeming deeply amused, but he asked about Agron's last match at the Australian Open and it turned out that he'd been there and that was really awesome. Agron knew that he was grinning stupidly again but he couldn't help it, not around Nasir. He tried to persuade Nasir to explain what his neck tattoo meant but Nasir refused point blank, so they talked instead about the different countries they'd worked in and the tennis clubs there and how they varied and the colleagues they had in common. It was a good way to spend a few hours; talking with a gorgeous man and feeling his sun-warm skin against yours.

Agron drank in his presence like a dying man. He didn't want the walk to end. Where would Nasir be working next? Would Agron's path cross his again? God, he really hoped so.

When they reached the All-England Club, Agron turned with a hint of desperation. "Strawberries?"

Nasir's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Strawberries and cream at Wimbledon?"

"It's a cliché for a reason."

Agron smiled winningly but Nasir shook his head, regret clear in his body language. "Sounds fun, but I can't."

It felt like a really heavy rock had dropped into Agron's stomach. Then his brain caught up with Nasir's exact words – can't. He hadn't said that he didn't want to spend more time with Agron. Agron's grin was back in full force and he pressed a little more into Nasir's personal space. Nasir looked very amused again and he didn't push Agron away.

"If we spend more time together or date….." Agron smiled at that. Date. Nasir had thought about them dating. "The players will complain because I'll probably umpire some of your matches if you keep progressing."

That made sense. If Agron found out that an opponent was dating their match's umpire, he'd definitely protest to the stewards. And Nasir was just starting out and something like that could damage his reputation. It could even cripple his career. Agron definitely didn't want to do that.

So he stilled for a terrible aching moment, thinking that that was it, that he'd finally found somebody so completely intoxicating only to find that they were literally out of his reach. It felt as painful as hitting that fateful stroke that had cost him last year's Wimbledon semi-final.

Then Nasir nudged him gently and was he still smiling? "I'll ask not to officiate your matches, or your brother's."

Agron stared for a second. Nasir wanted to date him so he was going to miss out on work? Because he wanted to date Agron that much? Agron swept him into a sudden hug, his lips brushing Nasir's shoulder. Nasir laughed into his skin and stroked his back.

"So no talk of dating until I talk to my bosses, okay?"

"No, but I'll take it."

"Good."

Nasir's smile was dazzling and Agron couldn't resist dipping closer to steal a brief kiss. He savoured the taste – sweat, trail mix, and something just purely Nasir. He wanted more, as soon as possible. Nasir responded by pinching him hard.

"Playing dirty."

"Punishing me?"

Nasir's smile turned sly and sharp and did very awesome things to Agron's insides. "Oh, this is only the beginning of what I'm going to do to you."

Agron swallowed hard.