fic: shudder in faith
title: shudder in faith
pairing: andy roddick/rafael nadal (implied roger federer/andy roddick & carlos moya/rafael nadal)
rating: pg-13
disclaimer: fiction
sometimes it's just easier when you have someone else who understands
There has never been a real reason for the two of you to be friends, to speak to each other apart from tournaments. To the world you’re opposites: he a shy, kind Spaniard who is adored all around the world - the one who teases with the ‘Greatest Of All Time’ title and you, the brash, loud American who never learns to shut his mouth. You really hadn’t thought of him before and neither has he about you. There hasn’t been a real reason to.
Until his life falls in parallel with yours.
It isn’t like he looked you up as soon as Carlos had shared the news of his baby girl being on the way. He had smiled and said how happy he was for him, for his long time best friend - much like you did when you found about Roger. Because really, he truly was pleased for him just like you were.
When you see him in New York, his smile dims, a little more forced but to the world he’s still the same lovable Rafa. Other players ask him about how Carlos is doing, if he’s seen the baby. You want to laugh when Roger takes a seat next to him in the locker room one day and throws an arm around his shoulder posing the same question as everyone else but then your heart goes out to him, to the Spaniard who suddenly looks every day of his twenty four years. He’s trying to not crack and is probably doing a better job than you did last year.
Tokyo... Tokyo is where everything changes.
You witness a blow up between him and Feliciano and under most circumstances you would just chalk it up as an argument between friends. However when you see him walk away, his face contorted in anger, his fist clenched by his sides yet no one following him so you decide you should.
For some odd reason he swings at you (though you’re not sure he sees who it is - would it have made a difference who knows) but luckily your reflexes are still sharp. You’re able to dodge it and take a hold of his body. He keeps at it however, hitting your arms, your shoulders and right when you think you should just give up on trying to calm him down he stops. Stops lashing out, stops fighting you. Instead he sags against your body and starts to ramble in rapid-fire Spanish (though you wouldn’t understand anyway if he had slowed down).
When he goes completely silent though still somewhat clinging to you, you call out to him quietly using his first name instead of his last (which surprises you the most).
“Same like Roger now, no?”
And before you can even question what the hell he’s talking about, he huffs out Carlos before collapsing against you. For a moment you have no idea what to do. You have a grown man, one of the best in the world, clinging on to you, using you to hold him together. But then it passes and you curl your arms around him loosely. You try your best to soothe him, whisper words you know he’s not listening to.
He shifts against you and you think he’s finally alright, that he’s going to let go of you. Instead he cranes his neck forward, eyes locking with you before he presses his lips to yours. It doesn’t last long and isn’t much more than a press, than a meeting of lips but it’s enough for you to see clearly.
A faint gracias is whispered against your skin before he moves away. He looks in both directions, worried that someone might have seen him break down - seen him kiss you - but the coast is clear. He doesn’t look back.
It is just a mild lapse of judgement you think as you watch him walk away. You remember how you reacted just over a year ago when two of your love’s creations were born. You know exactly how Rafa feels. But you also know the feeling will either eventually pass or numb him forever. Rafa’s stronger than that. Stronger than you.
pairing: andy roddick/rafael nadal (implied roger federer/andy roddick & carlos moya/rafael nadal)
rating: pg-13
disclaimer: fiction
sometimes it's just easier when you have someone else who understands
There has never been a real reason for the two of you to be friends, to speak to each other apart from tournaments. To the world you’re opposites: he a shy, kind Spaniard who is adored all around the world - the one who teases with the ‘Greatest Of All Time’ title and you, the brash, loud American who never learns to shut his mouth. You really hadn’t thought of him before and neither has he about you. There hasn’t been a real reason to.
Until his life falls in parallel with yours.
It isn’t like he looked you up as soon as Carlos had shared the news of his baby girl being on the way. He had smiled and said how happy he was for him, for his long time best friend - much like you did when you found about Roger. Because really, he truly was pleased for him just like you were.
When you see him in New York, his smile dims, a little more forced but to the world he’s still the same lovable Rafa. Other players ask him about how Carlos is doing, if he’s seen the baby. You want to laugh when Roger takes a seat next to him in the locker room one day and throws an arm around his shoulder posing the same question as everyone else but then your heart goes out to him, to the Spaniard who suddenly looks every day of his twenty four years. He’s trying to not crack and is probably doing a better job than you did last year.
Tokyo... Tokyo is where everything changes.
You witness a blow up between him and Feliciano and under most circumstances you would just chalk it up as an argument between friends. However when you see him walk away, his face contorted in anger, his fist clenched by his sides yet no one following him so you decide you should.
For some odd reason he swings at you (though you’re not sure he sees who it is - would it have made a difference who knows) but luckily your reflexes are still sharp. You’re able to dodge it and take a hold of his body. He keeps at it however, hitting your arms, your shoulders and right when you think you should just give up on trying to calm him down he stops. Stops lashing out, stops fighting you. Instead he sags against your body and starts to ramble in rapid-fire Spanish (though you wouldn’t understand anyway if he had slowed down).
When he goes completely silent though still somewhat clinging to you, you call out to him quietly using his first name instead of his last (which surprises you the most).
“Same like Roger now, no?”
And before you can even question what the hell he’s talking about, he huffs out Carlos before collapsing against you. For a moment you have no idea what to do. You have a grown man, one of the best in the world, clinging on to you, using you to hold him together. But then it passes and you curl your arms around him loosely. You try your best to soothe him, whisper words you know he’s not listening to.
He shifts against you and you think he’s finally alright, that he’s going to let go of you. Instead he cranes his neck forward, eyes locking with you before he presses his lips to yours. It doesn’t last long and isn’t much more than a press, than a meeting of lips but it’s enough for you to see clearly.
A faint gracias is whispered against your skin before he moves away. He looks in both directions, worried that someone might have seen him break down - seen him kiss you - but the coast is clear. He doesn’t look back.
It is just a mild lapse of judgement you think as you watch him walk away. You remember how you reacted just over a year ago when two of your love’s creations were born. You know exactly how Rafa feels. But you also know the feeling will either eventually pass or numb him forever. Rafa’s stronger than that. Stronger than you.