Fic ~ Smoke (2/12)
Title ~ Smoke
Rating ~ PG-13 (for language and general intensity)
Characters ~ Rafael Nadal, Carlos Moya, Roger Federer, Mirka Vavrinev, Andy Roddick, with appearances by others.
Warnings ~ Implied slash and het, scary situations.
Disclaimer ~ Disclaimers are boring. I claim Rafa’s eyebrow quirk. You know the one.
Author’s Notes ~ This story was inspired by the Rome hotel fire (Anybody remember that? It happened a few years ago. Two people died, Andy played the hero, and quite a few players probably had trouble sleeping in hotels for a little while.), but I originally intended it to occupy a completely different fandom, so it is NOT a retelling of that night.
Part Two - In which some prepare to go.
“Just stay calm,” Carlos said for the third time, not that it was having any affect.
Rafael was scrambling around the room, pulling on clothes haphazardly, digging through his bags in search of something. His panic was more visible with each reverberating clang of the alarm. Carlos had found a pair of workout pants and a t-shirt that he’d tossed aside earlier and pulled them on, but he stood with his shoes still in his hands, watching Rafael.
The smell of smoke was stronger now, enough to make Carlos want to cough when he took too deep a breath. Over the bedside lamp, there was a haze just visible near the ceiling. It also seemed to be getting warmer, but he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, and it seemed best not to check with Rafael.
“We have to get out of here,” Rafael was saying under his breath, over and over. Carlos could only just hear him through the alarm’s din. “We have to get out of here.”
Dropping the shoes, Carlos went to Rafael and caught him by the shoulders. For a moment, he thought he would pull away, but their eyes met and Rafael stopped. He was trembling violently under Carlos’s hands, and there was too much white showing around Rafael’s dark eyes. Threading his fingers through Rafael’s long hair, Carlos gripped it gently.
“Rafael, listen to me.” Carlos kept his voice as calm as he could, shouting over the alarm. “Everything is okay. We are going finish getting dressed, and we are going to go downstairs until they sort this out. Okay?”
Rafael wrapped one hand around Carlos’s wrist and seemed to steady himself.
“Okay?” Carlos asked again.
“Yes, I am okay.” Rafa answered, his voice wavering only a little.
“Good. Your wallet and your phone are on the dresser. Put some shoes on, and we’ll go.”
When Rafael nodded against his hand, Carlos took a second to press a quick kiss to his forehead and then released him. He found his shoes again quickly and sat down on the bed to pull them on. His hands were trembling, as if Rafael’s fear had been contagious.
~
“Do you think there’s really a fire?” Mirka asked as she shoved her laptop into a bag.
“Yes, I smelled smoke in the hallway.”
Already dressed, his cell phone and wallet tucked into a pocket, Roger stood outside on the balcony. The night remained still and serene, but when he looked upward, thought he could make out faint traces of smoke rising into the sky from somewhere above them.
“I’m ready.”
Moving back inside, he nodded. “Let’s get out of here, then.”
“What about your bags?” Mirka waved a hand at the bulky gear bags piled on one of the chairs.
“Leave them.”
He checked the door once more, still cool. Peeking into the hallway, he found the smell of smoke stronger, but still no sign of fire. They stepped out just as the door across from them opened and Dmitry Tursunov emerged, pulling on a t-shirt.
Catching Roger’s eye, he shrugged. “I didn’t do it.”
Roger smiled, even though this was hardly the time for jokes. Grabbing Mirka’s hand, he hurried her toward the stairwell at the end of the hall. A quick check of the door revealed it to be cool as well and he shoved it open, only to jerk backward as a cloud of thick black smoke billowed out.
~
From beneath his pillow, Andy muttered, “If I lose in the first round again, I am totally suing your asses.”
To be continued...