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1. 2006, Roger falls in love.
2. 2019, After Rafa's Australian Open's Semi-final.
3. 2010, Roger sees the Gypsy music video.
4. 2006, Roger overhears Rafa saying something.
5. 2012, Rafa resigns from the Player's Council.
6. 2008, The boys are making out when Rafa says something. [Part 1/3]
7. 2008, Toni talks to Roger about his intentions towards Rafa. [Part 2/3]
8. 2008, Rafa finds out what Toni and Roger talked about. [Part 3/3]
9. 2010, Rafa wants something, Roger must provide.
10. 2008, Roger goes to see Rafa after confessing his love.
11. 2019, After Laver Cup match 11, Roger goes to the shower. [Explicit]
12. 2009, Before the start of the Australian Open.
13. 2019, Roger is not very motivated to play Basel, Rafa wants to help.
14. 2008, At the Beijing Olympics, Roger freaks out, Rafa endures.
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The world moves fast. Things change from one minute to the next. And yet, Roger Federer was a man who took his time. He was patient and diligent. He liked to know variables and courses of action before taking a step. He liked to be sure. So, he usually took his time. Especially with the important things. And still, when he fell in love, it was fast. One second, he wasn’t and the next he was. One second, he was shaking Rafa Nadal’s hand at the net and the next he was in love with those dark eyes.Simple. And yet, Roger, as always, took his time. So it wasn’t until exactly two years later, with twilight shining on them and thousands of flashes blinding their eyes that when he got to the net those three words to Rafa. “I love you.” And Rafa smiled and replied.“I wait a long time, Rogi."“Sorry” Roger added, “I like to take my time.”
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“I feel bad for Stefanos” says Roger while turning the TV off. Rafa doesn’t look up from the stuff he is organizing. “I'm not”, he replies. Roger smiles. “Have you seen his press conference? He was destroyed! At one point I worried he would start crying.” Rafa takes out his six rackets and goes to put them, very orderly, by the corner, where another dozen wait. He starts sorting through them. “Hmm”, is all he musters. Roger is not deterred. “I mean that was an honest to God blood bath… Wow..." He whistles for good measure. "And he didn’t even play bad!”Roger looks at Rafa’s back but the Spaniard doesn’t seem very eager to engage him. Roger feels a twinge of annoyance crawl up his back. “What’s with the attitude, Raf? I’m praising you!” Rafa makes a noise. “No. You just saying: Poor Stefanos, pity Stefanos. Rafa is bad, he almost made boy cry.” Rafa comments. “You want me to call and say: I so sorry I beat you, Stefanos. Next time I try less hard?” “No, of course not.” Rafa finally turns to look at him. There is fire in his eyes. So much so that Roger is intimidated for a second. “I'm not sorry, Roger. I'm very angry. I wish I can do three six to love to him. Then maybe I feel not so angry.” Roger blinks. “Why are you angry at him? He’s always very respectful. He admires you a lot. Has something happened?” Rafa looks at him like Roger just said the most stupid thing in the world. “Yes, Roger, something happen. He beat you. He take you out of semi-final." Rafa holds Roger's eyes captive. "I dream of semi-final with you since I see the draw. And he spoil what I want so much. Is my first tournament back, I wanted to play you. And he get in the way... So, I was angry and take him out.” Roger simply sighs “Oh.”“Yes, oh.” Rafa repeats before turning again to rearrange the rackets from scratch. Roger gets up quickly and gets to him. He encircles Rafa's waist and let his head drop on Rafa’s shoulder. “You want to play me that badly?” Rafa snorts. “I wanted three things in this tournament.” Roger smiles. “What things?” “Play you." "Win trophy." "And beat Novak.” Roger giggled. “In that order” adds Rafa quietly and then Roger’s breath gets caught on his throat. He turns to place a soft kiss on Rafa’s tanned cheek. “I love you so much” said Roger. Rafa smiles. “I know.”
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Roger had to be honest, he hadn’t really paid much attention when Rafa had explained that he was going to be in a music video. But he had sort of expected it would be a thing where images from Rafa’s matches were cut in the middle of some rock band playing in a dark stage.Well, he had been wrong.So wrong.It was February 27th and Roger came back to his Dubai apartment after a long and gruelling training session. He was having a light lunch with the TV on the background when he heard his two favorite words in the world.Rafa and Nadal.He turned to look just in time to hear the first chords of a guitar and a gorgeous Shakira looking straight at him.And then he saw him.Even more gorgeous than Shakira, the love of his life, Rafa, looking broody, mysterious and fucking sexy in sinful jeans a white t-shirt.Roger dropped his fork and his jaw.It only got worse from that moment on... Meaning, Rafa kept getting hotter and hotter.First leaning on a fence, then splashing water over himself and finally laying on the sand.Roger didn’t realize he was gripping the marble counter tops until he heard his nails scratching the white surface. By that point, in the screen, Rafa was shirtless and Shakira was sitting on his lap.Roger felt his breath hitch and the back of his neck start to sweat. And in the screen Rafa and Shakira kissed.Right.Great song, beautifully done.Roger turned off the TV and started moving around the house like a maniac.He didn’t stop moving until two hours later, when he sat on nice leather seat.He took out his phone and dialed.The call got picked up after the second beep.“Hola, Rogi!”Roger exhaled.“Rafa, I’ve seen the video.”There was a pause.“What video?”“The Skakira video.”And another pause.“Oh.”“Yeah, oh.”And a final one…“You like?” Rafa almost whispered.Roger rubbed his forehead.“I’m calling to tell you I’m sitting on the plane.”“Where you going?” said Rafa very obliviously.Roger rolled his eyes.“To Mallorca” he said.“What?”Roger licked his lips, he took a deep breath and then opened his mouth.“I’m coming to Mallorca. I’ll get there very late, around midnight, but you better be at the fucking airport and then you better speed to Porto Cristo and you better drop all your clothes the minute we are inside the house, okay?”The next pause was charged with electricity.When Rafa spoke, Roger could feel his smile.“So, you like, no?”He smiled in return, even though Rafa couldn’t see it.“I’ll show you how much in a few hours.”“For sure.”
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Rafa was with Titín in the locker room. The physio was icing Rafa’s ankles. And Rafa was mentally somewhere else.“Es tan guapo…” he sighed.“Guapo is handsome, right?” said a voice behind him.Rafa’s blood left his body. He slowly turned around to have his fears confirmed.“Who is handsome?” asked Roger sassily.Rafa swallowed.“Baby” he finally said. “Friend have baby. Baby is very guapo.”At his feet, Titín snorted but disguised it as a cough. Rafa wanted to kill him.“Oh. Congratulations. Do you have pictures?”Shockingly, Roger had bought it. Rafa got lost on those warm eyes.“Of what?” he said after a while. “Of the baby…”And then got lost on his own lie.“No.”“Oh.” Roger seemed a bit dejected “I love babies. They are so cute.”“Yes, babies very cute.”And Rafa’s English was very bad. He should have listened at Mister Rodríguez when he was teaching the present continuous.“How do you say cute in Spanish, Rafa?”Roger had such a nice smile when he said it that Rafa almost melted.“Mono” he said without thinking.“Mono” Roger tried. “Es tan mono”, he emulated Rafa.“Who?” Rafa found himself asking. And a second later he found himself wanting to die of embarrassment.“The baby, of course.”There was a tinkle of something in Roger’s eyes and also his voice, but Rafa ignored it.“Oh” was the best thing Rafa could come up with.“But” Roger continued, “you are really young too... A baby.”Rafa wanted to cry.“A baby tan mono.” Roger concluded then, turning around.Rafa stopped breathing.“I’ll see you around, Rafa”, he heard as the door was closing behind the Swiss.“Yes, okay.” Rafa rushed to reply but he wasn't sure Roger had heard it.Rafa kept his eyes on that closed door for a few minutes, until he felt the sting of a slap on his leg. He look down and came face to face with Titín who was trying very hard not to laugh in his face...“Estàs tan fotut, Rafa.”But he failed miserably. And yet, Rafa couldn’t find it in him to care...Roger thought he was cute.
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“What’s this?” asked Roger eyeing the white envelope Rafa was handing him.“Letter of resignation.”Roger must have heard wrong.“What?”Rafa sighed, tired.“Is letter of resignation from Player’s Council. You are president. I give to you first. Then make announcement to other members, then press release.”A million words ran through Roger’s mind, but he only said one…“Why?”“You know why.”Roger felt that dirty type of anger start to settle in his stomach. He took a deep breath to calm himself.“Come on, Rafa. Don’t go overboard… We can talk about this.”Rafa looked out of the window where the sun was setting. His profile was beautiful and sad at the same time. Roger felt completely lost.“I don’t want to fight”, said Rafa after a while. “I fight every day. For every thing. I don’t want to fight more for this. Is stupid.”The anger built a bit more. Roger gritted his teeth.“So, you leave? Just because you don’t get your way with the two-year ranking?”“No. Just because you don’t want to see me.”“What?” said Roger scandalized. Rafa turned to look at him. His eyes were a dark sea in a thunderstorm.“You just listen to people not important. ATP officials, politicians, singers, journalists... But I’m important. I’m your lover. And you don’t listen to me.”Roger opened his mouth. But Rafa made him stop with the swirl of an eyebrow.“And no”, he continued “I don’t ask for two year because I scared of new players. I don’t do it to keep ‘on top’ easier and win more. I do it for survive.”“Rafa…”His lover went back to staring out the window.“I break. I break all the time. And I know you lucky you don’t break. But I do… And I know.” Rafa’s hand was gripping at the jean fabric on top his right knee. “The pain. Always… I don’t want pain always, Roger.”Rafa’s other hand reached for Roger and those taped fingers encircled his wrist. The fingers were strong, the touch was soft. “I want to play long and long years. Have finals and finals with you for years. And then, when we ready… I want we retire, we go somewhere… not Dubai, not Mallorca, not Switzerland. Somewhere us alone and have small beautiful life. And I want that life to not be pain for me. I want to walk with you on the beach for hours. I don’t want to have metal knees when forty and take painkiller every morning and night... I want nice healthy life with you.”Roger turned his hand so he could intertwine his fingers with his but Rafa took his hand away.“Rafa.”“But you don’t listen.”“I do” Roger pleaded.“You don’t.”Roger got up to go kneel in front of Rafa’s chair. He put his hands on top of Rafa’s, on top of Rafa’s treacherous knees.“Rafa... It’s not like that. You know that. But… I can’t just support you because you’re my partner, I have to think of everybody.”Rafa smiled so sadly it was actually more painful than seeing him cry.“Yes. I know this” he said softly.Roger nodded. Thanking his lucky stars for Rafa’s good nature.“Okay” he said. “Are we okay?”Rafa squeezed Roger’s hand, just a second. And then he rose to his feet to stand by the window. The evening light making his hair look almost reddish.“Yesterday they call me… from Spanish Olympic team. They say they choose me to walk with flag at Opening ceremony in London.”Roger felt a surge of pride. He got up and went to him.“That’s wonderful, baby. You deserve it.”Rafa smiled, that sad smile again. And Roger felt something drop inside of him.“I had say no.”Roger grabbed his arm.“Why?”Rafa refused to look at him, but even so Roger could see the glint of suppressed tears in his eyes.“Cannot carry flag if I cannot play tennis at the Olympics, Roger.”It was his heart. The thing that had dropped inside of Roger. It was definitely his heart.“What?”Rafa went back to the table and put his hand on top of the forgotten white envelope.“I broke again. Will try Wimbledon but I don’t think I last long... Maybe one or two rounds. But I try... maybe I get lucky and we play?” He sounded hopeful and cynical and ashamed and resigned at the same time. “Probably not... But I try. But... no Olympics, no American summer, no USO, no Davis, no Tour Finals, no more tennis this year...”He looked at Roger then. His expression was something Roger would never be able to describe and would never be able to forget.“No tennis” Rafa repeated, “just pain. So, please, accept resignation... I can’t have physical pain and pain from you.”“Rafa... I’ve never... I don’t want to...”Roger had words for days. Roger always knew what to say. Except for this moment.“You accept?”“Rafa...”“Please accept” Rafa pleaded.And the sheer emotion of those two words, were enough to sway him. He cleared his throat.“As president of the Player’s Council, I accept your resignation.”Rafa nodded, just once.“Okay. Thank you.”Rafa left the envelope in the table behind as he went for the room’s door.“Rafa...”The only reply Roger got was the soft thud of the door closing.And then in happened…Roger broke too.
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Rafa often mumbled and whispered things during their make out sessions. Roger found it adorable but no sound that came out of that beautiful mouth seemed more important than the ongoing kiss, so Roger never really paid much attention. This time though, he himself put a stop to the steamy activity to clarify something…“You just said that Toni wants… what?”Rafa sighed, looking at the floor.“Toni wants to talk with you alone.”Roger had a bad feeling about this.“About what?”Rafa blushed while dramatically rolling his eyes. Roger felt cold sweat in the back of his neck.“About you?” he guessed very much hoping he’d be wrong.Rafa let go the longest of sighs.“About our relationship…”He sounded like an annoyed ten-year old which made Roger laugh a bit.“Is he going to threaten me with pain and torture if I hurt you or something like that?” He joked.Rafa averted his eyes. And the cold sweat was back.“Oh my god! Really?”Rafa’s hand grabbed his face. He looked at Roger like a lost puppy.“I’m sorry. He is… very… too much.”Roger felt something else was also very too much… Rafa’s cuteness. He leaned down to give him a quick peck on the lips.“Well, I think that may be a family trade.”Rafa scrunched his nose.“I’m sorry.”Roger kissed him again.“It’s fine. And, don’t look so dramatic, I’m sure it won’t be that bad…”Rafa kissed him again. He smiled a little.“You are so smart and nice. I’m sure it go okay” said Rafa.Roger nodded and leaned back in to go back to the heavy making out. Roger loved this so much… He could spend all of his life doing this and he’d be happy man… Nothing could make him stop.“You have insurance of life, right, Rogi?Roger stopped.
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Luckily when the man appeared, Roger was already sitting.“Hi, Toni.”Toni took the chair in front on him. He looked dead serious.“Hello, Roger.”The silence reigned for a few minutes. Until Roger got fed up.“You wanted to talk to me?”Toni rose an eyebrow and, for a second, he sort of looked like Rafa. Roger shook his head. He’d rather not think about that right at that moment. Or ever… “Who say?”Roger blinked.“Eh… Rafa said so.”Toni crossed his arms and grimly looked down. It was the same expression he had when Rafa was losing a match… or wining it, come to think of it.He finally looked straight into Roger’s eyes. And Roger did what he could to hold his gaze firmly. He half succeeded.“You want Rafael for sex?”Again, Roger was lucky he hadn’t ordered anything yet because he would have spit whatever drink he had in front of him.“What?” he coughed.Toni pursed his lips.“You want Rafael for sex?”He even said it slowly, to make sure Roger understood what he was saying.“I heard you the first time…”The man shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you no answer first time.”“God, Toni…”Roger had imagined this conversation on his head a number of times, with a number of possible scenarios. He had expected to hear most anything from Toni, but not this. The man was a menace.“So, you want…” The man insisted.Roger put a hand up.“No need to say it a third time… please.”“So?”The saddest yet weirdest thing of it all was that Toni was dead serious with this question. He didn’t want give Roger a hard time or embarrass him to joke around. He just wanted to know the truth about Roger’s intentions, and even if Roger didn’t really appreciate that the man was as subtle as a heart attack… The truth was something Roger could give.“No, Toni. Of course I don’t want Rafa for sex.”He looked at Toni openly, shedding his public face, letting him see only a man. A man in love…“Great” replied Toni nodding his head “Okay. So you never have sex with Rafael.”A man in love that was about to lose his wits.“What?” Roger asked.“You say no sex.” Toni deadpanned.And Roger resisted the urge to just cover his face with the palm of his hand. He took a deep breath.“Well, no, Toni… I said I didn’t want Rafa just for sex.”“You no say ‘just’. You say: Of course I don’t want Rafa for sex. No just.”Roger opened his mouth and then closed it. Toni was killing him. Or rather, Toni was watching while Roger dug his own grave. And at this particular moment, death sounded more appealing that having to explain to Toni Nadal that he did want to have sex with his beloved nephew. Because, sure as hell, Roger didn’t want Rafa for sex, but he really enjoyed it.“You’re right. I didn’t express myself correctly… What I meant is that it’s not physical…only physical with Rafa. There’s much more but…” He said a prayer. “It is also… physical.”“So, yes, you want Rafael for sex.”Roger tried to hold it in for a second. But he failed… Big. And he let loose.“Fucking hell, Toni!” He pointed right at him. “Okay. Listen up. I don’t want Rafa just for sex or thrills, okay. I want Rafa for his mind, his sweetness, his kindness and his honesty. I want him for his strength as an athlete, his strong moral compass and his respect for his sport. I want him for his love of his family, his island and his friends. And, yes, I also want him for his beautiful smile, his nice face and incredible body. So, yes, Toni, assume I will do everything with Rafa. From breakfast, to going to the movies, to fishing, to making out in a car and sex on the beach, okay? I don’t just want him. I love him. I want to stay with him forever. And that’s a long time, so lots of things will happen, including sex, and if you have a problem with that… You can just—”“So you marry Rafael?” said Toni nonchalantly.Roger almost swallowed his own tongue.“What?”“You don’t want marry Rafael?”Rafa had been right to ask Roger about life insurance because Roger wasn’t going to make it out alive. “We just started dating!”Toni nodded, gloomy.“So you don’t want marry Rafael.”Roger didn’t often lose it. It took someone really special to make him lose his cool, his shit and his sanity. And someone incredibly extraordinary to manage it more than once. Turned out, Toni Nadal was incredibly extraordinary.“No, Toni. I do. Okay?” He grabbed at his own hair. “It’s crazy, okay? We’ve only been dating a few months but, yes, Toni. I will want to marry Rafa.”Roger hadn’t spoken out loud these crazy insane ideas that rushed his mind, late at night, when he was about to fall sleep and saw Rafa’s peaceful face next to his… But he’d known, after having them more than once that those insane weeding fantasies were seeds in his brain. They would root themselves and grow and bloom into reality. He knew, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet… He liked taking his time.“Okay, Roger” said Toni finally. “Now I have information. Now I go call wife of my brother and explain.”Toni got up from the chair. Roger felt himself get to his feet as well.“So… wait… I passed?” he asked.Toni blinked.“Passed what?”“Your test…” The man looked very confused. “Were you not testing me?”Toni shook his head, a mixture of disappointment and resignation embedded in his body movement.“You so strange Roger… but play great tennis.”Roger wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult… or both.“Roger, try help Rafael get better serve, okay?” said Toni before leaving him behind.“Okay…”Roger stayed where he stood for an hour.He didn’t even know what had just happened.
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“YOU SAY TO MY MOTHER WE HAVE SEX ON THE BEACH?” Rafa yelled right after the door closed behind him.Roger shook from head to toe.“Of course not! I haven’t seen your mother since Wimbledon!”Rafa kept staring him down.“So you don’t say: 'I will do everything with Rafa. From breakfast, to sex on the beach'?"Roger’s jaw dropped.“I said a bunch of other things in between too, Rafa!” Rafa remained unmoved. “Also! Also, I said that to Toni, not your mother!” Roger tried, quite desperately.Rafa rolled his eyes with such disdain that Roger remembered his boyfriend had been a teenager not long ago.“Stupid Roger. You say something to one Nadal, you say to all Nadals.”Roger’s brain short-circuited.“What… Why?”Rafa shook his head, again.“Stupid Roger. Because we all say everything, of course! It’s family!”Roger felt the urge to say that was the most ridiculous logic he had ever heard in his life. But he had enough of a self-preserving instinct to keep his mouth shut.Rafa pointed at him, obviously taking his silence as an invitation to keep berating Roger… It really wasn’t.“And, just to inform you. I never will have sex on the beach, Roger! I don’t want sand get inside places. Also, dirty, very dirty. No way.” Those sentences were hilarious but Rafa was so serious whilst saying them that Roger didn’t dare laugh.But he needed to get something off his chest.“Rafa… we’ve had sex in the sea.”“It’s different! It’s water. Water is for cleaning. So, it’s okay.”Roger felt he was, once again, being pulled into an abyss of insanity that came with having sex conversations with someone from the Nadal family. Fortunately, he didn’t fear Rafa like he feared Toni.“Sea water is for cleaning?” Roger joked.Rafa pursed his lips.“Stupid Roger. Don’t change topic. We were talking about you saying private things to my mother!”“I didn’t say anything to your...” he started to say but then Rafa frowned so deep that Roger found himself backpedaling. “Okay... okay. Maybe I did. I’m sorry, okay? Toni can be scary.” He was so annoyed with Toni now. Not only did he make him go through that excruciating conversation and forced him to confess his far into the future intentions to marry Rafa, he also had gone and told everything he said to his whole family and, by extension, Rafa as well. So annoying.“And also fucking annoying.” He found his tongue saying.Rafa gasped.“Roger! He is my uncle.”“I know. I’m sorry.” Roger rushed to apologize. “You know I love him... Well... I like him… at least and respect him enough... But!” Roger ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You don’t know how he got! He looks at you in a way, you can’t imagine... You have to do what he asks… You don’t even know, Rafa?”Roger looked at Rafa, who just blinked at him while raising an eyebrow.“I don’t know?” He pointed at himself, “I. Don’t. Know. Toni... you say?”Roger found himself laughing. “Stupid Roger” he said himself.Rafa also laughed and Roger felt the tension in the room disappear. He cleared his throat.“So… did Toni tell you the rest?”“What?”Roger bit his lip.“Did Toni tell you everything I said?”Rafa shook his head. “No...”“Oh.”Roger felt weirdly relieved and disappointed at the same time.“But my mom, yes”, added Rafa all of the sudden.“Oh.”Now Roger felt expectantly nervous and anxious.“So… what do you think… of what I said?”Rafa started making those hand gestures that he usually made when trying to explain something at a tournament's press conference.“My mother say she wants two weddings. One in summer in beach in Mallorca, of course. One in winter, in Switzerland with snow”, explained Rafa nonchalantly. “She say snow very important for the photos. She says she wants picture of us kissing with nice suits and snow falling.”“Oh…” Roger swallowed. “And what did you say?”Rafa made a face.“I say her: Mama, you cannot know for sure when snow fall. People on tv say wrong weather all the time.”Roger felt like he was falling in the Nadal vortex of insanity once again. But he had to push through. “Yes, you can’t predict when it will snow... But, Rafa, look at me.” Rafa did and Roger grabbed his chin softly with his right hand. “Rafa, what... do… you... say?”Rafa smiled, small and sweet.“I say, Roger you have to promise never want sex on the beach. I will not have dirty husband who has sex on dirty beach.”Roger leaned in to give a soft peck on the lips.“Okay, I promise. But… Rafa... didn’t you tell me your fantasy was to have sex on Philippe-Chatrier?”Rafa rolled his eyes at him. His inner teenager coming to the surface once again.“Stupid Roger. That is very different! Best clay in world is not like dirty beach.”“Right, of course” replied Roger.“Also…” Rafa looked at him with a devilish look that Roger’s knees buckling, “King of clay wants to take you on clay.”Roger throat went completely dry.“The king of clay wants his price?” he stumbled to say.It was Rafa who leaned in to kiss him this time.“He wants his prince.”Rafa was crazy. His family was crazier. But Roger was crazy about him.
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“Rogi, buy me ice cream. I want ice cream.”Roger looked about, both him and Rafa were wearing coats, the evening was chilly and a mean wind kept freezing their cheeks.“Rafa, it’s cold.”Rafa blinked slowly. Roger could almost see tiny shooting stars coming from those beautiful brown eyes.“But I wanna eat ice cream.”As if on cue, a cold breeze hit Roger straight in the face.“Rafa, you’ll get brain freeze and then you’ll complain you have a headache.”“Not true, Rogi…”More sparkles came out of Rafa’s eyes and Roger sighed.God, he was such a pushover. A weak pushover at that.“Yeah, okay... Let’s get you ice cream.”Rafa did a tiny “Vamos” motion and quickly grabbed Roger’s hand for a second.God, Roger was weak, weak, weak.Ten minutes later, they found themselves on a very fancy Swiss coffee house. Rafa was sitting in a booth by the corner while Roger ordered and suffered through the raised eyebrows of the clerks when he ordered a big bowl of ice scream in December… in Switzerland.But when he got to the table and saw Rafa’s sunny smile at the ice cream, he forgot the stares and all the gossiping that was surely going on in the kitchen right now about how Roger Federer was a weird rich celebrity. He just sat there and enjoyed looking at Rafa hum while eating. He sipped his own very hot coffee.“Au, au, au!!” Rafa grabbed his temples with his eyes shut tight. “Au, au. My head. Au.”Roger bit his lip to not say that “I told you so!” that was clamoring to be released. He reached for Rafa’s neck and soothingly caressed him. “You okay, baby?”Rafa let out a huff and looked at Roger angrily. “I not okay. Head hurt. Why you let me eat ice cream? Stupid Roger.”Roger was sure his lower lip must be completely white he was biting so hard. “Sorry.” He said, painfully. Literally, it was painful to speak while biting his lip.Rafa shook his head with a tiny smile. “Is okay. I forgive you.”“Thank you. That’s so good of you.”Rafa nodded. “I know.”One of the many reasons Roger loved Rafa was that sarcasm went over his head 99% of the time.They sat quietly for a while.“Rogi, I want crepes. Let’s go to other place and you buy me crepes.”Roger braced himself.“Rafa, it’s kinda late, and the whipped cream will not sit well with your stomach. That’s too heavy a dinner for you.”Rafa rolled his eyes.“Not true, Rogi! I just want crepes. Is no problem.”He stood up and pulled a hand out towards Roger, who found himself grasping it and getting up as well. Those calloused fingers felt warm and strong around his.“So we go eat crepes now?”Rafa blinked, supernovas coming out of his lashes.God, Roger was weak.“Sure” he said, “we can go.”“Vamos.”And that night, when Roger couldn’t sleep because Rafa had a stomach-ache, Roger wouldn’t be able to blame anyone but himself.But just as well. He loved it that way… most of the time.
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The day after the final… and also the day after Roger had confessed his feelings by the net under a million flashing lights, Roger went to Rafa’s house.He rang the bell, one, two, three times but no one answered.But Roger was not ready to let it go just yet… he needed to see Rafa. They needed to talk about so many things. Although, truth be told, more than anything, he just needed to see Rafa. He needed to openly watch Rafa now that his secret and, apparently, Rafa’s too, were out.So he rounded the house’s fence. On the backyard there was a white door with a window panel. Roger looked inside… and the next second he was petrified.Because in the middle of a fancy kitchen, stood Rafa… ballroom dancing with a jacket. As in… pretending the jacket was his dancing partner.Roger had a blast from the past and remember a Disney movie where a girl also danced with a red coat or something.Roger had taken his sweet time with his feelings, so he had been incredibly sure when he finally said: “I love you”, but this completely reaffirmed that he had done the right thing by saying it last night. Because, could there be anything more incredible than Rafa dancing with a jacket? Roger couldn’t fathom it.Roger knocked on the door and then Rafa dropped the jacket and turned to look at the door. When he saw Roger his face turned redder than the clay in Roland Garros.Too cute.Rafa bit his lip but went to open the door, and when it opened Roger heard a very loud waltz. No wonder Rafa didn’t hear the doorbell.“Hola, Roger” said Rafa, inviting him in.Roger smiled and went to give him a hug. Rafa tensed for a second but the moment Roger’s arms connected with his back, like so many times before, he turned to butter in Roger’s arms.Really… too cute.“Hi” said Roger. “Sorry to bother you but… I wanted to see you.”They ended the hug and Roger saw that Rafa’s blush wasn’t going anywhere.“So… can I ask what were you doing with the jacket?”Rafa looked panicked “Nothing!”Roger looked like he was about to have the best day of his life. He smirked “It looked like dancing…”“No… Is… Is…” Roger could almost see the wheels in Rafa’s head trying to look for a convincing English work.“Training?” supplied Roger, jokingly.Rafa nodded frantically. “Yes, yes. Special training.”Roger tapped his fingers on his lip. “Are you going to incorporate tango to your net game?”He tried to sound serious and, for a second, he thought Rafa was going to follow through, but the next second he deflated and look to the side, avoiding Roger’s eyes.“I… don’t know this dance…”, Rafa said finally.“What dance?”Rafa bit his lip.“The romantic from movies dance…”Roger’s frowned in confusion. “Ballroom dancing?”Rafa sighed, dropping his arms tiredly to the side. “It’s the champion’s ball tonight and…”Roger smiled sweetly, “And you’re the champion.” There wasn’t really any ill feelings in Roger’s words. Yes, he had been sad to lose but he knew yesterday match was so much more than that. It was the best tennis he ever played… it was the best tennis Rafa ever played… It was… he was kind of sure… the best tennis that had ever been played. And, yes, it could have been even better with his sixth crown, but he got Rafa to accept his feelings. That was actually worth more than any trophy.He looked at Rafa. “Do you want me to teach you?”“Teach me?”Roger nodded. “Yeah. I can teach you the waltz.”Rafa then fumed and pursed his lips. “Of course you know dance. Roger knows everything. So perfect.” He complained childishly. Roger thought it was adorable.He went to the kitchen island where a laptop sat, playing the loud classical music. Roger looked through the playlist and when he found something he liked, he pressed play. He then, turned to Rafa, his arms open, ready to begin.Rafa bit his lip. “I embarrass”, he said but he took two steps towards Roger.They were both the same height and Rafa was considerably bulkier than Roger but, still, when Roger put his left hand on his waist and grabbed his right in his, he found that Rafa fit perfectly in his arms.“So, who are you going to dance with?” he said casually as he started moving. Rafa was looking at their feet, studying Roger’s movements like he was dissecting an opponent’s game.“Raf?”Rafa blinked looking at him.“Oh… Dance with Meri.”Roger hummed.“Who is Meri?”Raga smiled sweetly.“Is from Mallorca. Know since children.”Roger hummed while leading Rafa around the room.“Is she pretty?”Rafa stopped abruptly.“She is friend. Only friend.” He bit his lip. “Only pretty I see is you.”And Roger Federer blushed for the first time since he was thirteen and Camilla her neighbor had given him his first kiss.Rafa let go of Roger and took a step back, retreating. But Roger grabbed his arm and pulled him towards him. Their chest bumped and Roger grabbed Rafa’s face with both of his hands.And then he did what he had been dreaming for a long time.He kissed Rafa.It was sweet and short but mostly perfect.Rafa was blinking at him, like he had just woken up. “Good” said Roger.Rafa blinked some more. “What good?”“It’s good” Roger began, “that I’m the only you see.”Rafa blushed again and turned to the side to avoid Roger’s eyes.“Me too, Rafa.” Roger used a finger to turn Rafa’s face around. “You’re the only pretty… and guapo… and mono… I see.”Rafa jumped a meter away from him.“Oh, no! Roger! You remember!”Roger chuckled. Like he could ever remember that conversation.“I do.”Rafa pushed his hands hard to cover his face. “I go now. I go die.”Roger took a step forward and grabbed Rafa again. “Rafa, you can’t go die. You need more practice.”Rafa looked at him from the space between his fingers.“Will you say jokes about me?” he asked.“Maybe…” Roger admitted before winking. “But you can also keep my mouth occupied so I can’t joke.”That was too cheesy even of Roger, but Rafa dropped his hands and smiled at him. He repositioned himself, his left hand of Roger’s shoulder, his right one intertwined with his own right hand.“Okay, Roger. You no talk. Only breath and kiss, okay?” Breath and kiss… that he could do.
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Every muscle in Roger’s body was singing from the effort. But he didn’t care. He had done it. He had won his match. Europe still had a chance. They could still win this thing. And they would.Roger got to the locker room and started dropping his clothes on the bench. He was butt naked in two seconds and then he went to the shower. In the main room he could hear the ruckus of his teammates.He smiled and went to one of the cubicles.He let the water run over him, hitting him hard on the numb muscles.The glass door opened, and Roger opened his eyes. Rafa was there. Only in his underwear his eyes were pure fire. Roger licked his lips.“You were so hot on the tie break” said Rafa and then he just dropped on his knees in front of Roger.Roger swallowed a moan when he felt those hot lips around his cock and had the mind to reach for the glass door and close it. It wouldn’t matter much, though, if someone came into the showers, they would see a pair of tan legs and feet coming out of a cubicle. But he doubted anyone would come.Team Europe was in the know. And after four days even Stefanos had figured it out.“Hmmm” he felt himself say.Rafa was devouring him. All the tension of the match, all the anger of being on the bench were getting channeled on his lips and Roger could only be grateful. Rafa was great at this but today he was on another level.“Jesus, Raf!”Rafa hummed against him and Roger felt those vibration in the tips of his toes.“Shit. I won’t… last.”Rafa sped up then, as if that was possible, and Roger had to close his eyes and rest his head on the tiles, water splashing straight in the face, but he couldn’t care about that.“Rafa… I’m… go…”Rafa squeezed his thighs, hard.Roger came.Rafa got up and kissed Roger, sharing his taste.“Good match, Rog” said Rafa opening the door and leaving him alone in the shower.Roger showered blissfully; his head still light. He used shampoo as body wash, but he really didn’t care.When he came out, white towel around his hips and a black one to dry his hair, Rafa was already dressed and in that sinful black Laver Cup shirt, he was drying his own hair with a white towel, he looked fucking hot. Roger smiled; they would sell out the black t-shirt he was sure.“I gonna go talk to Sascha. Get him ready, no?”Roger nodded and Rafa went for the door.“Are you going to go out with the towel?” said Roger suddenly, Rafa rose an eyebrow “There’s a camera in there. People will wonder why you have a towel if you didn’t play, Raf.”Rafa smirked. “So?”Roger felt hot again. Fuck it.Rafa came out to the main room with the towel and a tiny bottle of something and started talking to Sascha normally. Roger followed him, only wearing his towels. Domi caught his eyes and lowered them quickly. Roger smiled and joined in the Sascha conversation, getting close to Rafa and talking like he wasn’t virtually naked.Let the internet have another freak out.God, he loved the Laver Cup.
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The room was very dark.“Raf, we need to talk.”“Now? I wanna sleep, Rogi.” He kissed him. “Tomorrow, please?”Rafa nestled into Roger’s shoulders and that warm breeze against Roger’s neck was almost enough to make Roger lose his resolve. Almost.“It has to be now, Raf.”The boy let out a very annoyed grunt, but he rolled around so he could turn and watch Roger.“What is so important that we need to speak this moment even if today we fly twenty hours from Europe to Australia?”“They want me to marry Mirka.”Rafa sat up in a second.“What?”“My team… they want me to marry Mirka.”“Roger, your team know Mirka is just manager and friend.”“Yeah, of course they know.”“So, why they say this crazy idea?”“Apparently some players have been talking…”Rafa frowned in confusion.“Talking about us.” Roger explained. “Making up rumors that we are more than rivals, that we may be together…”Rafa blinked.“Is no rumors, is the true.”Roger was baffled by the answer but at the same time he didn’t know how to reply to that.“Well… not to the outside world, Rafa.”Rafa squinted a little bit, his gaze intensified.“Not my choice, Roger.”That one hurt even though Rafa didn’t infuse any kind of spite or resentment into it. He just softly stated a fact. Which it was.“You have Meri.”Rafa smiled and shook his head.“No. Meri is friend. Friend is close. Like Titín or Tomeu or Marc or others. People maybe think this because they see Meri in my box. But we no kiss, we no hold hands, we no do romantic things with or without camera in front."That one hurt even more. The tone, once more, was simply informational and yet all the things Rafa listed as things he didn’t do, were things that Roger did do.“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I had a beard by the time I met you. I’m sorry it took me two years to accept and actually decide to take a chance on us because I promised myself, my team and my family that I would never mix my personal business with professional tennis.”Rafa grabbed his cheeks.“Is not personal business, Roger. You and me, is love. Is love forever. I am not angry at you or Mirka, I know is way situation is. I know is your way and your way is different that my way. Just like your tennis is different than my tennis. I understand this.”“You do?”“Yes. But this time, I have to say no to your way.”“What do you mean?”“You can’t marry Mirka, you must marry me. You say to my mother.”Roger felt himself smile. “I did, didn’t I?”Rafa nodded. “Yes. And if not do, then my mother hurt you very very bad, Roger. She is thousand time more scary than Toni.”Roger swallowed all the saliva in his mouth. Rafa smiled at him, closing his eyes again.“Stupid Roger. I no scared anymore. You have freak out every two months. Is okay. I used to it.”Roger was deeply offended. He pushed at Rafa’s shoulder.“I don’t freak out every two months.”Rafa rose an eyebrow but didn’t bother opening his eyes.“Yes, you do. But it okay. I still love you.”Roger slept the rest of the night with a smile on his face.
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“I’m just not motivated… I mean… I want to do well… it’s Basel. But… I’m tired. I want to be with you… rest, you know? Before Paris and the Finals.”Roger could picture Rafa rolling his eyes. He knew he sounded whiny, but he didn’t much care.“Not motivated? To play in your home? To win 10 times?"Roger felt his cheeks burn.“No… of course… But I’m just tired, you know? The Laver Cup took a lot from me… the organization… all the extra pressure because it was Switzerland…”He heard a noise at the other side of the line.“Now that you speak of Laver Cup, what you say to Sascha if he says: Roger, I’m not really motivated to make the ATP Tour Finals?”“It’s not the same thing!” he defended.“Why?” He didn’t reply. “Is because you Roger Federer and him only next gen?”For the first time since the conversation started Roger was glad they were not on the same place, because Rafa would surely not appreciate Roger nodding in reply to his rhetorical question.After a while he felt something change on the other line. He couldn't pinpoint what it was but he felt Rafa smirk even though he could not see him.“Roger, do you need me to help motivate for Basel?”Oh… oh.Were they going to have one of their fun conversations?Roger licked his lips and looked up to make sure the door was closed.“Yeah, Raf…” he whispered. “I really, really… need your help to get… motivated… to play my best.”“Okay, Roger, I help you.” Rafa sounded super chipper and not at all like he was about to help Roger relax with one of their ‘sexy times’. “Talk soon, okay?” said Rafa.And he hanged up.What the fuck?How was hanging up going to help him win matches?Roger dialed again.And he was sent straight to voice mail.What the actual fuck?He kept calling. By the seventh time, Rafa’s phone had been turned off.What the actual fuckity fuck?He would not let this stand.He called Benito. And Charly. And Tomeu. And Francis. And Titín.None of them picked up.He called Ana Maria.“Sorry, Roger” she said. “No speak. Rafa say.”And she hanged up.What the astonishing actual fuckity fuck?Sev came into his room to tell him they had to go to the stadium.Oh, right. He was playing Gojowczyk tonight.But who the fuck cared? His boyfriend was ignoring him.He had to get through the match fast so he could try to contact Rafa again.He got Peter 6-2, 6-1.And then he got back to his phone and his emails.Fucking Rafa was actually leaving him on read. Him!What the fucking astonishing actual fuckity fuck?Two days later, Rafa was still MIA. Not a single reply. Thank god that the RNA was posting about Rafa practicing because Roger was starting to get worried something may have happened to him.And then he got a link send to his phone by an unknown number.It was of pictures and videos of Rafa arriving in Kazakhstan. He looked fresh and gorgeous and fucking Novak Djokovic was clinging to him while smiling with his stupidly bland face.That night Roger got Albot 6-0, 6-3.And still Rafa was dead silent.The next day was a nightmare. Picture after picture and video after video of Rafa and Novak. Joking at a press conference, posing with important politicians in nice suits (Rafa’s was incredibly nice, Novak looked like a grasshopper at a funeral), playing around with kids (that was Roger’s weakness and Rafa knew it!) and, of course, of fucking course, playing tennis.Playing an exho. Rafa wouldn’t play an exho with him until February 2020! But he was playing with his worst enemy.The only silver lining was that Rafa polished the floors with Novak. Novak wanted to play around and Rafa wanted to drag him around, which he did. And that was good. But still…So many giggles and pats on the back and smiles.By Friday Roger was ready to face Stan. He needed a fucking work out. He needed to let it all out. And Stan would be the perfect vessel for that.Only Stan retired and Roger had to agonize until Saturday to let off some steam.And then…Then, the fucking fucktards that ran the Paris Masters social media accounts decided to post pictures and videos of Rafa… training with Novak.What the for-fuck’s sake fucking astonishing actual fuckity fuck?It wasn’t enough that he had spent two days goofing around with him that he wanted to spend more time with that douchebag?Rafa wanted to practice with him? Rafa never wanted to practice with Roger! He didn’t really want to practice with Rafa either, he was his ultimate rival for a reason, but still… The audacity!And the videos were bad…The one that really got to him was Novak stretching his legs in front of Rafa, trying to show off.Could he be any more obvious?And also, did he think it was going to work?Rafa couldn’t care less about Novak’s scrawny hairless legs. That wasn't what he liked. Roger took a deep breath.Poor Stefanos… He really liked him.He had such a great future ahead of him…But not today. Today he was going to get an endless cascade of bombarding forehands and serves.6-4, 6-4.He made that one last a bit longer. He had a lot of fury to get over. Also, after no having a Swiss face-off, his home crowd deserved some entertainment. On Sunday morning Roger was finally feeling better.There was still a cloud over him, but he was almost done. One more match and he would get on a plane, get to Rafa and demand to know what all of this torture had been for.He was almost ready to leave the hotel when his phone rang.“Hello, Rogi!”“Rafa?”He heard a sweet laugh.“Sí. Is me. How are you?”“How… how… am I?” Roger was shocked beyond belief. How dare he? “Rafa, you have ignored me for a week! A week when I’m playing! You have told everyone, including your own mother, that they couldn’t talk to me! HOW DO YOU THINK I AM?”Rafa took two seconds to answer.“You are amazing. You are in the Finals, you have not lost a set and you play so unbelievable all tournament” he deadpanned and Roger felt lost for words. “You look… very motivated.”Everything clicked into place.Oh, for the love of the for-fuck’s sake fucking astonishing actual fuckity fuck!“You didn’t!”“Didn’t what?” asked Rafa with the voice of an innocent angel.“You didn’t just shut me out and go play around with Novak so that I would get motivation for the tournament!”Another two seconds.“It worked very well, no?”Roger wanted to punch the wall.“I fucking hate you, Rafa!”He had the guile to laugh out loud at Roger.“No, you love me. Now, go, finish with Alex soon and get to Paris, no? I give you nice reward if you win 10 Basels.”Roger was scared for a second.“What kind of reward?”He could feel Rafa smirk again.“Naked kind.”Well… That was more like it.He finished with poor De Minaur 6-2, 6-2. The kid was nice, but he couldn’t drag it… He had a plane to catch.
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For how cool and controlled Roger was on court he was a mess in his personal life, Rafa had come to discover. Also, he seemed incapable of not turning every situation into a big dramatic Hollywood movie scene. Rafa often thought that it would be best if Roger didn’t watch Moulin Rouge every time he was bored… it affected him too much.Luckily for Roger, Rafa ran hot on the surface but was cool inside. One needed to be cool if one wanted to be with Roger Federer.Rafa had learned this over the past few months dating the love of his life…“Rafa, I’m sorry but we have to break up.” said Roger when he came to visit him at the Olympic village one night.Rafa held his breath for a second and that second was enough to notice how worked up Roger looked. So he calmly replied:“Why?”Roger blinked. Clearly, he hadn’t expected Rafa to say this. But he went to his bag and took something out of it. A magazine. He opened it on a page to show Rafa.In a double spread was a picture of them at the net, embracing, after their epic final Wimbledon that year. ‘Friendly rivalry’, read the title.“I really like this picture. What is problem?”“What is?” Roger sounded outraged. “Rafa, look at us! It’s obvious we are dating in this!”Rafa bit his lip to avoid smiling. He didn’t think Roger would appreciate it at this time.“But, Roger, this picture was before we start dating” Rafa pointed out. “You say you love me after they take this picture!”.Roger looked at the magazine, examining like it was the first time.“Oh” he said after a while. “I guess you’re right…”Rafa went to him and kissed on softly on the neck. “Yes.”He took the magazine from Roger’s hands and send it flying across the room. “Roger, bathtub is really big. I want long bath with you. I go prepare, you come?”Roger licked his lips. “Yes, I’d… like that… a lot.”“For sure” said Rafa already going to the bathroom.He rolled his eyes. What a drama queen his boyfriend was. But at least he was really cute.And that was freak out number one… of many.Rafa would be keeping the magazine though. He really loved that picture. They looked so in love.