The perfect kitchen
Title: The perfect kitchen
Pairing: Ernests Gulbis/Novak Djokovic
Other character: Mario Ancic
Rating: G
Word count: 2,472
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and this is a fiction.
Summary: Ernests has been waiting for Novak to win a particular trophy.
Author’s note: Inspired by Novak’s victory in Beijing and by the huge size of his new trophy. I deliberately ignored the fact that both players would have been in Shanghai by the time this story had taken place. And I can’t help myself writing Mario as the boys’ friendly neighbor yet again. How I miss him on court :)
“Game, set, match…”
Before the umpire could even finish his sentence on TV, Ernests jumped off the couch and jumped up and down with Mario.
“Ahhh! He won!” Mario cheered for his friend and pupil. He had been helping Novak with his volleys lately.
“I know! And it’s the Cup! Not another plate or a random cup! Just what I needed in the kitchen!” Ernests threw his arms in the air with delight.
“Huh? Wouldn’t it be too big to put in a kitchen for decoration?”
“Haha, no. Follow me. I’ll show you.” The Latvian waved his hand and left the living room.
Mario had visited his cute neighbors numerous times but had never seen their kitchen. They had shown him around the house and wouldn’t have minded him grabbing something from their fridge but he was naturally far from being close to a kitchen. When he was a child, he had always broken a plate or a glass and his mother wouldn’t let him stay near one and when he had started to live alone in Monte Carlo, he had learnt from experience that it was better both for his health and bank account to stay away from that particular part of the house.
“Holy mother of god…”
Mario sang ‘Ave Maria’ in his mind as he walked into the kitchen.
Bling-bling.
Shiny ATP trophies and runner up plates were neatly arranged on one side of the kitchen on tailor-made shelves and pictures of Novak and Ernests holding each one of them together had taken over many parts of the wall. It should have looked rather crowded but the kitchen was spacious and it gave out a cozy feeling that made Mario wear an easy smile. The boys looked adorable in the pictures and Mario thought of how nice it must be to have somebody by your side to share such meaningful moments.
“I thought you guys had a trophy room, Ernie. I remember Nole showing me trophies that had quite an odd shape.”
“We do! Well, it’s more like Nole’s trophy room but we use some of his cups and plates, to quote Nole’s mom, in a creative way, unquote. What good is it to stash them all in the trophy room?”
“Oh. How come I never saw them before then?”
Mario was sure that he would have noticed if there had been such a special cup or plate at the table. He had just spotted the US Open runner up plate on the middle shelf.
“Sorry… We only use them when we eat alone.” Ernests smiled apologetically.
“Ah, secret club.” The Croatian joked and took a step forward in front of one of the walls.
In one picture, Novak was holding the Metz trophy in an apron and Ernests was holding up a sign that read ‘GREEN ALIEN EGG’ with a wide smile on his face. In another, the two seemed to be out in the garden, holding Ernests’ first doubles trophy from Houston, wearing matching light blue swimming suits.
“Why on earth are you wearing swimming trunks for this one?” Mario rubbed his chin.
“Oh, that’s to remind me that I jumped in the pool with Rainer after the victory ceremony. It was so much fun! I held my nose like this and splash!”
“Right. You told me about it, ahaha. And I said that I thought only someone like Llodra would do such a thing, haha.”
Mario looked closely at one picture after another. There were more pictures above the sink, under the window and right next to the microwave. The two players were accumulating new memories with each other, diluting the ones they had with their opponents. Many different places from inside and outside their happy house had been served as a background of the pictures and the Croatian assumed that these new moments would make the runner up a little less sad and the winner a little happier. He was a tennis player himself and he knew what kind of power a beloved one could have.
“You should cook more often here. This is wonderful.”
“Yeah, we really should. I got Nole a cook book but he’s too busy playing golf these days. We do adore the kitchen and sit at the table here even when we’re not eating.”
Ernests’ smile was gentle and Mario could tell that he was thinking about all the sweet times that they had chattered at the table, probably telling each other back stories of what had happened in those tournaments in the pictures.
“This is the warmest place I’ve been in a while.”
Mario now had the idea of the perfect kitchen.
Ding-dong.
Ernests had just finished dusting the house when he heard the doorbell.
“I’m coming!”
He threw the duster on the floor and ran to answer the door. This was one of the moments that he deeply cherished; welcoming his boyfriend home after a difficult week. If he lost, he would comfort him. If he won, he would be as happy as if it had been a victory of his own.
“I’m home!”
Novak smiled as the door to his home sweet home opened in front of his eyes. It was always magnificent to see his dear Ernests in their nest safely and happily.
“You got the cup! The really big one!”
“Yes, I did!”
The twenty one year old hugged the winner and looked over his shoulders.
“Oh, there it is!”
Novak got discarded quickly as Ernests proceeded to pick up the carefully wrapped box that read ‘FRAGILE’.
“Don’t worry, Nole. I’ll be super careful.”
Novak laughed at the serious expression on his boyfriend’s face. He trusted the Latvian with almost anything; except for a few things such as a razor, a meat knife and a water gun.
“Don’t tell me this goes to the kitchen.” The Serb picked up all the other luggage and closed the door behind him.
“It does! I’ve been waiting for this cup for weeks!”
Ernests put down the box in the middle of the living room and looked at Novak with a nervous expression on his face.
“May I?”
The Serb nodded at the eager boy. “Sure. Go ahead.”
Ernests slowly lifted the huge trophy out of the box and took a sharp breath.
“Oh my god. It’s even bigger than I saw on TV.”
“Yeah, I never thought it would be this big. Didn’t you see me having trouble to hold it? Haha…”
Novak clearly hadn’t minded the weight of the trophy but it had to be the heaviest cup that he had received in his young career. Besides, unless he got to win in Barcelona, it was probably going to stay that way.
“Nole, say hi to our new soup bowl!”
Chu.
The world number three looked at the cup, then at Ernests who had just kissed it, then back at the cup.
“Uh… I know you eat a lot, Ernie, but isn’t it too big for two people?”
“Of course it is! This is especially for when your family comes next month. I’m sure it can hold soup for more than six people.”
Ernests answered with a bright face, relieved that he had one less thing to worry about.
“My family?”
“Yeah. They’re still coming when the off season starts, right?”
“Yeah, but we could’ve just bought a decent soup bowl, you know. Last time I checked, those things didn’t cost a fortune.” Novak shrugged, not really following.
“Eh, I know that we can afford hundreds of bowls. But that’s not the point! When I told your mom that it was my idea to use the silverware that you’ve earned, she said that it was very creative! That’s a good thing, right?”
“I guess so…”
“I thought so too! So let’s hope she’ll like this soup bowl. I really don’t want to get on her bad side.” Ernests’ mind was full of worries.
“Aww, she’s very fond of you, Ernie. I thought you knew that.”
Novak took the bigger hands in his own and sent his love through them.
“That’s what you think.” Ernests refused to believe Novak’s words.
“Well, if you don’t believe me, I can prove it to you.”
The Serb sat on the couch and pulled out his cell phone from inside the front pocket of his tennis bag. Ernests joined him on the comfortable piece of furniture and watched his boyfriend attentively. Just like any person who wanted to look good in his possible future mother-in-law’s eyes, he was nervous of the thought that Novak’s mother wouldn’t find him good enough for her son.
“Here. This is what she sent me after I won the final.”
Ernests took the phone and looked at the text message.
“It’s in Serbian!” He pouted.
“Yeah, but you can read your name there.”
“But who knows what she said? She could’ve been telling you that I’m no good so you should break up with me!”
“Whoa. Where did such a wild idea come from? I’m not making things up here. She said congratulations and that she was very proud of me and she added that I should celebrate with you. I texted her back, telling her that you were the one to suggest a quick nap during the rain delay which we all know helped me a lot.”
Novak pressed his lips against the pouty cheek, laughing a little at Ernests’ imagination. When he had told his mother that he was dating the Latvian boy from the Pilic Academy about a year ago, she had been surprised but hadn’t said much. When he had informed her four months ago that the same boy was going to move in with him, she had laughed softly and had asked if the boy would be able to stand his snoring.
“Ahaha…” Novak chuckled at the memory.
“What’s so funny? I’m serious!” Ernests folded his arms across his chest.
“Do you remember how my mom was worried that you wouldn’t sleep well at night because I snored? Haha, too bad she didn’t know you snore much louder!”
“Meh…”
Ernests wasn’t pleased to be reminded of it. That was something that he couldn’t control and yet, it could mean minus points for him.
“I need something more creative than just a trophy soup bowl.” He announced.
“Yeah. You need to kiss me on the cheek at the dinner table.” Novak smiled.
“Will you be serious for just two minutes?” Ernests tugged at his curls in an angry way.
“Ernie, all she needs to know is that you care about me and you don’t get in the way of my tennis. You already excel at both so I don’t see why you’re so worried.”
“You were worried too when we went to see my mom. You couldn’t even sleep the previous night!”
“Yeah. But that was my first time meeting yours and this isn’t your first time meeting mine.”
Novak remembered how Ernests’ mother had held his hand and had asked to watch out for her son. He had tried to reassure her and had been making sure that Ernests called her on a regular basis. As far as he was concerned, they had a healthy relationship which the two mothers should have nothing to worry about.
“You know, we can show our kitchen to my mom. The first time she came here, we didn’t have those pictures yet. It would make her see how much we’re in love with each other, don’t you think?”
“Oh, that’s a great idea! And perhaps we should take a picture in the kitchen this time! We never did before!”
“Ah, that’s my brilliant boyfriend. Go get the camera then.”
Ernests rushed into the study while Novak carried the trophy to the kitchen. The sight of all the pictures made him feel truly at home and he was glad to have reached another final to add another memory on their wall.
“Too bad we don’t have Chinese costumes or something like that.”
Novak mumbled as Ernests came in and set the camera up on the tripod.
“Hmm? Who said we didn’t have them?”
Ernests asked as he took a look in the viewfinder to set it on auto mode for later.
“What? You bought costumes just to take a picture?”
“It’s not just a picture, Nole. You know what all these pictures mean. It’s us!”
“What were you going to do if I wasn’t going to get past the semis?”
“Well, you have a long career ahead. And I could’ve reached that final someday too.”
“Since when have you become so optimistic?”
“Since I met you!”
Ernests’ answer was simple yet beautiful, Novak thought.
“Don’t tell me that I have to wear a pink costume.”
The Serb didn’t like the girly color even if Rafael kept telling him that real men wore pink.
“No. You get to wear red and I get the blue one.”
Ernests ran into the bedroom to get the long-sleeved robes. Things were going as planned and he couldn’t hide his excitement.
“Yay!”
Ten minutes later, both players were ready to take another snapshot of their meaningful day together. Novak held one of the trophy’s handles and had a thumb up while Ernests held the other handle and grabbed the remote control.
“Ready to smile?”
“I’m always ready to smile, sweetheart. You’re the one who likes to frown.”
“Oh, shut up, you.” Ernests giggled and started the countdown.
“Ten! Nine!”
“Ernie, we’re not shooting a rocket here. Just start from three.”
“But I don’t like that number! It’s prime and ugly!”
“What is there to hate in a number? Just press it then. I won’t blink.”
“I always do the countdown so let me do it my way.”
“Fine. Just do it quickly. This trophy is heavy, you know.”
“Eight! Seven!”
“Oh, seriously.”
“Six! Five!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Novak groaned but decided to wait till ‘one’ and smile widely. It was nice to see Ernests so hyper about his win and he didn’t want to spoil the fun.
“Zero! It’ll click now!”
With Ernests’ impossibly loud shout, the camera did its job in a much quieter way and another memento was born in the heart of their home.