tennis slash - No Longer A Kid
For those who have stumbled to this entry while looking in another fandom or at Sunrise Avenue, yes, I've likely gone mad. It's probably safer to ignore this.
Title: No Longer The Kid
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairings: Rafael Nadal/Andy Murray (mentions of Nadal/Carlos Moya, Moya/Tommy Robredo)
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. This didn't happen.
Notes: I started writing this fic after their match at the Australian Open. It would have just died on the computer if it weren’t for Andy’s interview in July’s Tennis magazine.
Rafael should be focused on the match ahead. He’d watched tape of Fernando’s earlier matches in the tournament. The guy had beaten him before so this would be a difficult match even if he were in top condition. What he needed was to get to sleep but he’s restless.
The truth was his legs felt like lead and his mind was on his previous opponent.
* * * * *
Even though they weren’t even a full year apart, Rafa had always seen Andy as a kid. The Scot had begged his way onto the clay courts of Spain. He became known for his pouting on the court and fiery temper in the locker room. He would also latch onto Rafa like a lost pup. A lanky, chattering, foul-mouthed pup with lots of red curls that stuck out, never appearing as more than someone stopping through.
There was also the fact that Rafa gravitated toward the older players. Okay, so it was one player in particular, his mentor Carlos. It was a crush - that was for sure. He would try to make it into something more but Carlos saw him as off-limits for years. Then again, he often saw Carlos hanging around Tommy a little too close - but they weren’t exclusive.
Andy was the only other person who knew about the crush. He would make jokes about it, making it clear that he wasn’t judging because it was a guy but that it was a guy ten years older. It was only during these times that it would feel as if he and Andy were on the same level.
He had tried on several occasions to pry from Andy who he had a crush on. At first he’d said Maria but that was an obvious cover-up lie and Rafael told him so. When he finally admitted Roger, Rafael laughed. After all, everyone had a crush on Roger.
When Rafa won several clay court tournaments in a row in 2005, he’d finally managed to convince Carlos he wasn’t a boy. That night they finally got together was wonderful, as gratifying as the amount of work he’d put in to win the French Open for the first time shortly after.
He’d keep track of Andy’s progress, though it was hard to watch a match without realizing how far apart they were. There was Wimbledon success, leading to hype in England as loud as the rest of the tennis community had about himself. He wanted to laugh it off as a way to build a bridge but Andy’s mood was sour much of the time.
During a tournament that summer, he entered the locker room after a routine second round victory to find Andy sitting on one of the benches, head in his hands. A smashed racket dangled by the strings off the corner of the bench. When he was spotted, Andy gathered his belongings as fast as he could and gave a quick nod before leaving the room without looking him in the eye.
Rafa took whatever moments he could get with Carlos. If they were in the same tournament, they’d look for ways to sneak to the other’s room, but otherwise neither deviated from their regular routines. If it meant fleeting looks across the locker room which held promises that Carlos sometimes broke, Rafa would accept that.
It wasn’t until the following French Open that he’d realized that he’d lost touch with Andy. There was a lot of buzz about a new coach but Rafa was in that clay-court zone again and it didn’t register.
He was walking down the street with Carlos when they saw the first of many British tabloids. Andy was on the front page regarding some comment he made about Wimbledon that had gotten him in hot water. Carlos muttered something that started with the word ‘kids’. Rafa asked him to repeat what he said.
“Kids today act first and think later.”
He wasn’t sure why the comment bugged him so much. Carlos wouldn’t have said it if he still thought of Rafa as a kid, so it should have been a good thing. And yet… he’d had to grow up so fast now that he was in the spotlight and who even knew if there was any truth to that cover anyway.
That night, he was the one to bail on the hotel encounter. It turned out to be a good thing, as Carlos soon began hanging around Tommy again as if they’d never broken up.
Rafa spent the rest of the year watching the reunited couple from a distance. He’d wonder why it was never so simple when they were together. Everyone on tour at least had suspicions regarding Carlos and Tommy while those murmurs never occurred during his time with Carlos.
Then the Australian Open came around. There was a dinner prior to the tournament where many of the top players gathered. He was hanging around the rest of the Spanish contingent in the corner, forced to watch them interact and it made him sick. He needed to get air so he went out on the balcony.
He looked out over the railing, taking in the faint lights and the further away farmlands. He thought he was alone until a voice he had barely heard in the last year and a half began speaking.
“Carlos had been with Tommy in the locker room, talking about how he needed to spend more time with the kid.”
Rafa turned around to find Andy sitting on a wicker chair, focusing his attention on the cuff of his white shirt. He’s fairly sure from the distant tone that the conversation did not take place recently even if it could have just as easily fit into current day. No way was he going to say anything until hearing what this was about.
“He thought you were better off hanging around the older players. Maybe he was right - you’ve had so much success since then. Though I’m not sure Tommy was even aware then that Carlos wasn’t referring to the practice court.”
Now he was thoroughly confused. He walked over to the balcony door to make sure nobody could hear them then leaned against the wall as he asked, “You’ve known all along?”
A shrug then a reply, “It’s not like it was obvious to everyone. But, c’mon. You finally got your crush’s attention! You had your head in the clouds! No way would you have heard that there was an ulterior motive.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Why?!” Andy glared then shot up and stood right in front of him. Rafa idly wondered if he’d ever had to look up to face Andy eye-to-eye. “You’re still mourning him. It’s as if you want him back all over again. Carlos is not worth your time and I’m tired of keeping quiet as this mistake repeats itself. You’re the one that he mentored and he gets off on it!”
“Shut up, Andy.”
He spat the next out in disgust. “Right, I don’t know anything. I’m just the kid who hung around you.” He pushed past Rafa and went back to the party just long enough to tell the others at his table that he was leaving and getting his jacket.
Later that night, Carlos had the nerve to start a conversation with “In the fourth round, you might face…” which Rafa shut down. Looking at the brackets was just asking for trouble. It was bad enough dealing with it when it came from a reporter but he never thought a fellow player would use those words.
He didn’t immediately go look at the draw. It wasn’t until after his second round match that he’d find out the end of the sentence. He was facing Andy, someone he hadn’t faced as a professional.
When it was time to go over coaching, he was warned that this could be a battle. Rafa felt prepared for the match but ended up shocked by the player Andy had become. There were several game plans at work and Rafa was having difficulty finding a solution. It was a mentally challenging battle that barely went Rafa’s way.
* * * * *
He decided that he wasn’t going to get anywhere staying in bed so he changed into sweats, grabbed the room card and headed for the lobby. There’s a group of players sitting in the lounge, including Carlos and Tommy. He’s not sure if either guy is even still in the tournament but it doesn’t seem like they care in that moment.
He asked the group if any of them knew if Andy was in this hotel. Carlos made a show of disgust while Tommy pointed to the hotel entrance. Rafa rushed outside to find Andy sitting on a bench, his iPod blocking out the sound as he lounged back with his eyes closed.
“You okay?” When there’s no reply, Rafa tapped the bench before sitting next to him.
When he realized who was there, he shut off the iPod and removed the earplugs. After Rafa repeated himself Andy answered, “I’ll probably appreciate it in a few days.”
“You’re not a kid.”
Andy tilted his head, trying to read Rafa. “Does it matter?”
“Not really.” Rafa wanted to say more but he can’t figure out what words were needed.
The silence lasted several minutes. If there’s one thing that Andy has always hated, it’s silence. “I came out here for some fresh air and to tune out everyone else. I’m headed back to my room.”
Andy got up and walked back into the hotel, through the lobby.
Act first, think later. Rafa rushed in, catching Andy by the elevator. He doesn’t give Andy a chance to say anything before pushing him against the wall. “What…” the sentence never finished before a mouth covered over his.
Title: No Longer The Kid
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairings: Rafael Nadal/Andy Murray (mentions of Nadal/Carlos Moya, Moya/Tommy Robredo)
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: They’re not mine. This didn't happen.
Notes: I started writing this fic after their match at the Australian Open. It would have just died on the computer if it weren’t for Andy’s interview in July’s Tennis magazine.
Rafael should be focused on the match ahead. He’d watched tape of Fernando’s earlier matches in the tournament. The guy had beaten him before so this would be a difficult match even if he were in top condition. What he needed was to get to sleep but he’s restless.
The truth was his legs felt like lead and his mind was on his previous opponent.
* * * * *
Even though they weren’t even a full year apart, Rafa had always seen Andy as a kid. The Scot had begged his way onto the clay courts of Spain. He became known for his pouting on the court and fiery temper in the locker room. He would also latch onto Rafa like a lost pup. A lanky, chattering, foul-mouthed pup with lots of red curls that stuck out, never appearing as more than someone stopping through.
There was also the fact that Rafa gravitated toward the older players. Okay, so it was one player in particular, his mentor Carlos. It was a crush - that was for sure. He would try to make it into something more but Carlos saw him as off-limits for years. Then again, he often saw Carlos hanging around Tommy a little too close - but they weren’t exclusive.
Andy was the only other person who knew about the crush. He would make jokes about it, making it clear that he wasn’t judging because it was a guy but that it was a guy ten years older. It was only during these times that it would feel as if he and Andy were on the same level.
He had tried on several occasions to pry from Andy who he had a crush on. At first he’d said Maria but that was an obvious cover-up lie and Rafael told him so. When he finally admitted Roger, Rafael laughed. After all, everyone had a crush on Roger.
When Rafa won several clay court tournaments in a row in 2005, he’d finally managed to convince Carlos he wasn’t a boy. That night they finally got together was wonderful, as gratifying as the amount of work he’d put in to win the French Open for the first time shortly after.
He’d keep track of Andy’s progress, though it was hard to watch a match without realizing how far apart they were. There was Wimbledon success, leading to hype in England as loud as the rest of the tennis community had about himself. He wanted to laugh it off as a way to build a bridge but Andy’s mood was sour much of the time.
During a tournament that summer, he entered the locker room after a routine second round victory to find Andy sitting on one of the benches, head in his hands. A smashed racket dangled by the strings off the corner of the bench. When he was spotted, Andy gathered his belongings as fast as he could and gave a quick nod before leaving the room without looking him in the eye.
Rafa took whatever moments he could get with Carlos. If they were in the same tournament, they’d look for ways to sneak to the other’s room, but otherwise neither deviated from their regular routines. If it meant fleeting looks across the locker room which held promises that Carlos sometimes broke, Rafa would accept that.
It wasn’t until the following French Open that he’d realized that he’d lost touch with Andy. There was a lot of buzz about a new coach but Rafa was in that clay-court zone again and it didn’t register.
He was walking down the street with Carlos when they saw the first of many British tabloids. Andy was on the front page regarding some comment he made about Wimbledon that had gotten him in hot water. Carlos muttered something that started with the word ‘kids’. Rafa asked him to repeat what he said.
“Kids today act first and think later.”
He wasn’t sure why the comment bugged him so much. Carlos wouldn’t have said it if he still thought of Rafa as a kid, so it should have been a good thing. And yet… he’d had to grow up so fast now that he was in the spotlight and who even knew if there was any truth to that cover anyway.
That night, he was the one to bail on the hotel encounter. It turned out to be a good thing, as Carlos soon began hanging around Tommy again as if they’d never broken up.
Rafa spent the rest of the year watching the reunited couple from a distance. He’d wonder why it was never so simple when they were together. Everyone on tour at least had suspicions regarding Carlos and Tommy while those murmurs never occurred during his time with Carlos.
Then the Australian Open came around. There was a dinner prior to the tournament where many of the top players gathered. He was hanging around the rest of the Spanish contingent in the corner, forced to watch them interact and it made him sick. He needed to get air so he went out on the balcony.
He looked out over the railing, taking in the faint lights and the further away farmlands. He thought he was alone until a voice he had barely heard in the last year and a half began speaking.
“Carlos had been with Tommy in the locker room, talking about how he needed to spend more time with the kid.”
Rafa turned around to find Andy sitting on a wicker chair, focusing his attention on the cuff of his white shirt. He’s fairly sure from the distant tone that the conversation did not take place recently even if it could have just as easily fit into current day. No way was he going to say anything until hearing what this was about.
“He thought you were better off hanging around the older players. Maybe he was right - you’ve had so much success since then. Though I’m not sure Tommy was even aware then that Carlos wasn’t referring to the practice court.”
Now he was thoroughly confused. He walked over to the balcony door to make sure nobody could hear them then leaned against the wall as he asked, “You’ve known all along?”
A shrug then a reply, “It’s not like it was obvious to everyone. But, c’mon. You finally got your crush’s attention! You had your head in the clouds! No way would you have heard that there was an ulterior motive.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Why?!” Andy glared then shot up and stood right in front of him. Rafa idly wondered if he’d ever had to look up to face Andy eye-to-eye. “You’re still mourning him. It’s as if you want him back all over again. Carlos is not worth your time and I’m tired of keeping quiet as this mistake repeats itself. You’re the one that he mentored and he gets off on it!”
“Shut up, Andy.”
He spat the next out in disgust. “Right, I don’t know anything. I’m just the kid who hung around you.” He pushed past Rafa and went back to the party just long enough to tell the others at his table that he was leaving and getting his jacket.
Later that night, Carlos had the nerve to start a conversation with “In the fourth round, you might face…” which Rafa shut down. Looking at the brackets was just asking for trouble. It was bad enough dealing with it when it came from a reporter but he never thought a fellow player would use those words.
He didn’t immediately go look at the draw. It wasn’t until after his second round match that he’d find out the end of the sentence. He was facing Andy, someone he hadn’t faced as a professional.
When it was time to go over coaching, he was warned that this could be a battle. Rafa felt prepared for the match but ended up shocked by the player Andy had become. There were several game plans at work and Rafa was having difficulty finding a solution. It was a mentally challenging battle that barely went Rafa’s way.
* * * * *
He decided that he wasn’t going to get anywhere staying in bed so he changed into sweats, grabbed the room card and headed for the lobby. There’s a group of players sitting in the lounge, including Carlos and Tommy. He’s not sure if either guy is even still in the tournament but it doesn’t seem like they care in that moment.
He asked the group if any of them knew if Andy was in this hotel. Carlos made a show of disgust while Tommy pointed to the hotel entrance. Rafa rushed outside to find Andy sitting on a bench, his iPod blocking out the sound as he lounged back with his eyes closed.
“You okay?” When there’s no reply, Rafa tapped the bench before sitting next to him.
When he realized who was there, he shut off the iPod and removed the earplugs. After Rafa repeated himself Andy answered, “I’ll probably appreciate it in a few days.”
“You’re not a kid.”
Andy tilted his head, trying to read Rafa. “Does it matter?”
“Not really.” Rafa wanted to say more but he can’t figure out what words were needed.
The silence lasted several minutes. If there’s one thing that Andy has always hated, it’s silence. “I came out here for some fresh air and to tune out everyone else. I’m headed back to my room.”
Andy got up and walked back into the hotel, through the lobby.
Act first, think later. Rafa rushed in, catching Andy by the elevator. He doesn’t give Andy a chance to say anything before pushing him against the wall. “What…” the sentence never finished before a mouth covered over his.