Chapter Text
Even though it was his birthday, Xisca was purposefully being annoying, switching the DVD every ten minutes or so and sprawling herself out on the couch like a lean prestigious cat, her brown wispy hair fawned around her face like a halo and her feet wriggling precariously on the edge.
Rafa had complained about her antics twice only to be countered with a light-hearted ‘’Remember that time when you proposed to me even though you were still in love with Roger? Yeah, you don’t get to complain.’’
Despite her comments, she was dating someone else now and at first the media had erupted and article after article sprung up that she was cheating on Nadal until he had publicly announced their split to which people had erupted even further and conspiracies had arisen as to what had caused their break up. Some said that Xisca and Rafa’s sister didn’t get along and so Rafa had been given an ultimatum by Maria, in the end, choosing his sister. Another rumour was that Xisca was tired of being a trophy girlfriend and wanted Rafa to give up tennis- which he of course was not going to. (There were also small and more taboo whispers that Rafa was gay, it didn’t get as much attention but it was definitely something that had been picked up by some.)
‘’I always thought that Annabelle was just a terrible version of Chucky.’’ Xisca says in reference to the film with a sniff. She gets up to change the DVD.
‘’I still can’t believe you bought all these DVDs.’’ Rafa says, looking at the carpet which was stacked to the brim. Mamma Mia, Eternal Love - The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down A Mountain?‘’ ''Some of these sound awful. Who even buys DVDs anymore?’’
‘’ Me. ’’ Xisca says defensively. ‘’I refuse to be consumed by mass postmodernism.’’ She shuffles through some of the films on the floor. ‘’How about The Sun is Also a Star?’’
Rafa makes a face. ‘’Actually, I was going to watch that one with Roger.’’
‘’On DVD?’’ Xisca asks pointedly.
‘’No.’’ Rafa says. ‘’On some illegal streaming website.’’ She rolls her eyes, even though her lips quirk at the sides. Rafa was actually serious about that.
The doorbell rings. ‘’Wonder who it is.’’ Xisca says sarcastically.
Rafa ignores her and opens the door, pleased to see Roger’s tanned face and styled hair. He’s wearing sunglasses which makes him look slightly moody and unapproachable but he smiles when he sees Rafa. They still weren’t living together because despite everything they had been through, it did feel like treading a thin line and neither wanted to mess it up.
‘’She still here?’’ Roger questions, placing his arm in the doorway. He waits half a second for Roger to say something else, maybe the fact that Rafa was 33? But he just looks at him expectantly for an answer.
‘’Unfortunately.’’ Rafa says after, with a laugh, leaning forward to kiss Roger’s cheek. Roger bumped their noses together before stepping inside and taking off his shades, smirking when he caught sight of Xisca.
‘’Roger, darling!’’ She exclaimed, giving him air kisses. They were surprisingly friendly with each other now. Who knew that Roger would warm to her after she stopped being with Rafa. Shocker. ‘’You’re just in time for the next film.’’ She says. ‘’But the popcorn might be finished.’’
‘’Popcorn is vastly overrated anyways.’’ Roger says.
‘’No comment.’’ Rafa says, although he is quite appalled at that statement. He heads to the kitchen regardless to get himself more popcorn than anything else and when he comes back Xisca is putting her jacket on.
‘’You’re going?’’ She nods. ‘’Yeah. I was going to go see Chad anyways. We do yoga on Wednesdays- so.’’ She smiles at him cheerily and then steps forward to give him a hug. ‘’Happy birthday, Raf.’’ she whispers in his ear, squeezing him tight and then seeing herself out.
Rafa notes the mental image of Xisca and Chad doing yoga before sniggering to himself. When they had been together, Xisca hated yoga. Which could only mean one thing- she was lying. He turned to Roger. ‘’So how did you get her to leave?’’ He asked, putting the popcorn box on a table nearby.
‘’Told her I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you properly.’’ Roger says, waving a box of chocolates in front of him.
Rafa is weirdly surprised. ‘’You remembered my birthday?’’
‘’Are you seriously asking me that?’’ Roger says exasperatedly. ‘’I’ve known you for donkey’s years.’’
‘’Well, you didn’t say it earlier.’’ Rafa argues pettily.
‘’That’s because I’m saying it now .’’ Roger emphasises. ‘’Now, do you want the chocolate or not because I’m not going to lie , I’m kind of hungry.’’
‘’Is there white chocolate?’ Rafa asks potently.
‘’Yes, even that atrocity.’’ Roger confirms. ‘’But I don’t discriminate so there’s also dark chocolate and chocolate chips and-’’
‘’Like 2010?’’ Rafa says fondly. Like 2010 Valentines Day when Roger had gotten him all types of chocolate.
‘’Like 2010.’’ Roger agrees, eyes softening.
‘’Fuck, Roger.’’ Rafa says, hand over his mouth.
‘’Do you want to?’’ Roger wonders seriously.
It was funny how the conversation could jump so quickly from fluffy to pure lust but Rafa wasn’t really complaining. He kisses Roger softly, a thank you hidden somewhere beneath it before the heat takes over and his hands grip Roger’s hair, his shoulders then his waist, there's too many places he wants his hands to touch.
The other day Roger had been talking about their age and how old he felt, but doing this, when they did this, Rafa felt like a teenager again.
Their clothes come off pretty quickly, it’s so natural and they’ve done it before. Roger wants to take him to the bedroom but Rafa wants to have sex right here in the living room, in front of these damn DVDs and the film currently playing
‘’Think of it as another gift for me.’’ Rafa says.
They have sex against the wall, Roger’s arms tensing with the pressure of holding Rafa up by his thighs. His hands run up and down Rafa’s face as his buries his head into Rafa's shoulder. Rafa grips him in tighter with his feet, almost wanting to literally merge their bodies into one. Sometimes it's not enough to be this close, sometimes he needs more.
"I love you." He whispers against Roger's neck.
Roger's hips buck up in response and Rafa's breath hitches and he closes his eyes wanting Roger to hit that same spot again and again. His arse clenches with the pleasure and his toes curl as Roger kisses his neck, bringing Rafa's left leg higher for more security and a better angle. Roger's left hand strokes his dick whilst at the same time maintaining the same energy with his hip thrusting. It feels like heaven.
"It should-" Rafa moans lowly as Roger flicks his wrist. "It should be my birthday more often." He manages to get out.
Roger comes first with a low groan, thick spurts all over Rafa’s stomach, so white it looks like bits of snow. ''Fuck, Rafa,'' he breathes, ''I love this. I love you.'' Then Roger continues to wank him off, large hands squeezing at the tip.
''Say it again.'' Rafa pants.
''I love you.'' Roger says. ''I love you, I love you..'' his voice fades as Rafa leans forward to kiss him, neck straining.
"Maybe I should make you come 33 times." Roger pulls back and whispers jokingly.
The idea is so erotic that Rafa comes with a gasp, hips spasming, and head falling back against the wall like it was suddenly too weak to stand on its own.
Roger kisses his neck as he comes down from his high, his heartbeat racing. "I think I should use that line more often." Roger says after a bit into the comfortable silence, running a hand through Rafa's hair, their chests breathing in and out of sync.
***
‘’You know, I’ve been thinking recently.’’ Andy muses, adam's apple bobbing as he promptly swallows. It’s only because Novak is so close to him that he notices. His head is resting on Andy’s arm whilst Andy’s other arm is behind his own head.
They’ve been lying like this for ages and even though he’s lost track of time, he knows that it’s way past midnight. Sometimes they’ll sleep during the day and be awake at night - like nocturnal animals. It didn’t feel like he had to follow the rules of society anymore- sleeping at night, being straight, letting other people define you. It was all crap. That’s what he had learned from Andy, anyways.
Novak hummed in response.
‘’Novak?’’ Andy said, twisting his head to look at him as if he thought Novak was sleeping.
‘’Yeah, I hear you.’’ Novak said, pushing Andy’s face away lightly. He wasn’t ready to face another one of Andy’s soul searching looks that he had mastered in the time they had been together. ‘’You’ve been thinking. Last time I checked that’s pretty normal.’’
The Scotsman smiles wryly in response to his sarcasm. ‘’No, I mean I’ve really been thinking. About my career and stuff.’’
‘’Oh.’’ Novak replied. The retirement topic was as delicate as a snowflake, he never knew what to say really. It doesn’t matter? You have better things in store? You had a great career?
‘’You’re a British legend. Not many people can say that.’’ He settles on. Because he was. Hello, who else got the title of Sir?
‘’I know.’’ He says, nodding. ‘’And that’s why I have to come back.’’
He’s a bit shocked and negative counter-arguments spring to mind faster than lightning bolts You’ll be in pain- You might not get back to where you are- You’re fucking crazy but all of these thoughts are secondary to the look of pure hope on Andy’s face. Who was he to ruin that? And besides, it was in his nature to never give up and he loved the game, Novak knew that. He watched Novak’s games with a smile on his face but Novak could tell that he wanted to be on court, watching from the sidelines wasn’t enough for him- none of it was enough.
So he nods slowly and leans up to kiss Andy’s forehead. ‘’Okay.’’ He says. ‘’If that’s what you want. Then I think you should do that.’’
Andy smiles at him, eyes crinkling. ‘’I’m coming back to tennis." He states, throwing back the duvet covers and flinging open the windows of their room. Novak feels the cold breeze seeping into the room, the moonlight highlighting Andy’s red boxer shorts. ‘’I’m coming back!’’ He yells into the late night sky like a madman, shouting at the top of his voice and raising his arms. It feels like it should be a scene from a musical but it isn’t, it was just Andy being really happy.
Novak gets up to join him by his side, even though he is shirtless. A sudden thought occurs to him ‘’You know someone, somewhere could be taking pictures of us right now?’’
Andy hums, but the words seem to sink into his skin because he glances around at the sea of other houses nearby. ‘’Would it bother you, though?’’ Andy asks. ‘’If someone did take pictures of us. Like this.’’
Like this. Like obviously in post-sex euphoria, the sweat still gleaming on their skins, both shirtless and both within dangerously close proximity of each other. A 10 on the gay o meter. Hell, even an 11.
‘’Yeah.’’ Novak says and Andy’s face falls slightly. ‘’Because my hair looks awful.’’ he finishes, smirking as Andy shoves him.
It wasn’t something they had explicitly talked about but it was obvious that Andy didn’t care too much to hide their relationship- like at all. He mentioned Novak in all his interviews as casually as he blinked. Novak was perhaps a bit more cautious on the issue but he was starting to care less and less.
‘’So what’s your plan?’’ Novak says.
‘’I’ll probably get another surgery for my hip. And if it goes well then I’ll play some doubles. And if that goes well-’’
‘’You’ll play singles.’’ Novak continues. ‘’And before you know it, I’ll be beating you in another Australian Open final.’’
‘’ That’s never happening again.’’ Andy says adamantly.
They argue over it pettily for a while, but Novak can’t help the bubbling feeling building up inside of him- that Andy would be back on court again, fighting again, and feeling whole.