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"Doyouthinkthey’redoingit?” Sasha asked, looking up from where he was sitting on the floor, his knees against his chest, the words coming out fast and embarrassed and relieved, for finally getting the question out.
“Eh?” Fognini asked, shoving his entire hand into Stefanos’ bowl of popcorn. They were all in Fognini’s room to watch football on the TV, all but Roger and Rafa, who for some reason never showed up for the gathering, even though they said they would.
“Rog. And Rafa. Obviously. Anyone else in the room who think they’re, um, fucking? Each other, I mean.”
Fabio spat out a mouthful of popcorn and slapped the blond head sitting beneath him. “Cazzo! You soft in the head?!”
Stefanos, sitting next to Fabio on the couch, looked at Fabio with somewhat of intrigued fanacination. “Really? You *don’t* think they’re fucking?” He shrugged and exchanged a look with Sasha, who stared at him, relieved to receive support. Even if it was from the Greek. “I thought they’re fucking, too. But if you don’t think so, maybe they’re not. You know them better.”
“You will not be invited here next year with that kind of talk.” Fabio warned.“Federer’s not gay.”
Sasha’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Why do you say it like that? ‘Federer not gay’. What about Rafa?”
Fabio mumbled to himself something in Italian. “Him, I don’t know. Rafa is weird. I don’t understand anyone who takes 14 years to get married. But Roger is not gay. I know him for 20 years. He never looks in the shower. His eyes always stay here.” Fabio gestured to his face. “No gay men can look at this naked body - “ He gestured toward his own. “And always look at my face.”
Sasha started cackling madly on the floor. “So, any men who can avoid looking at your body is straight?! That’s your gaydar? You’re fucking pathetic.”
Fabio shrugged. “Sometimes straight men also look.”
Sasha dissolved in another fit of giggles, only to be slapped on the head again.
“I think something is happening.” Dominic said, at last, quiet from the sofa. “Before. They were not - like this. Touching, all the time.”
Fabio snorted. “You are young, you didn’t get laid for a week. Your libido is making you see things. Arm around shoulder is not attraction, is normale between men who are friends. Normale for Roger. Normale for Rafa. Normale. Finite.”
“Is kissing between men who are friends also normal?” Dominic asked, his voice small and sheepish.
The three men looked at him, and he blushed and looked at his hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Fabio laughed. “Cazzate! When?”
“Yesterday. I went by Rafa’s room to give him back his Kinzo tape. He gave me tape for my thigh but I didn’t use all of it. I took the stairs, because fitness and stuff, and I opened the door to the floor, and I saw Roger leaving Rafa’s room. They laughed. And - they kissed. A lot. They didn’t see me.”
“Yeah? What kiss?” Stefanos asked, eagerly.
Dominic shot him a look. “What kiss? The kind of kissing I do with my girlfriend. What kiss, he asks me.” He muttered angrily. “A kiss with a tongue, not a peck on the cheek.”
Sasha shrugged. “The French kiss on the lips all the time.”
Dominic snorted. “They’re not French. And I’m friend with a lot of the French players, They don’t kiss like that.
All three men looked at Fabio. He was definitely considered the authority in all things Rafa and Roger on Team Europe. He was Rafa’s age. Known both for years, and while he was not close friends with either, whenever the rest of them needed advice regarding anything touchy, or whether they could approach either of the two with a request of some sort, they asked him what he thought first. Because Fabio never gave a fuck and was happy to help.”
Fabio did not smile that time. He muttered something in Italian.”Forget it. Like it never happen. Is no joke if they were so stupid. Don’t talk about it, don’t think about it. Don’t ask them about it.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Puta Madre. Puta Madre.”
The younger guys exchanged sheepish glances and clammed up.
“Well. It IS sort of sweet.” Sasha eventually piqued.”If it’s true.”
Dominic frowned at him. “Roger is married, though. With kids. And Rafa is getting married next month.”
“So they decided to fuck like bunnies in the meantime?” Stefanos asked, earnestly.
“Oy! Language! Code violation!”
Stefanos turned so fast toward the door that he almost creaked his neck. Roger was at the door, his face open and the corners of his eyes crinkling with easy laughter, which intensified when he realized he scared the young man.
Rafa was hovering behind him, fiddling with his phone, not smiling.
Roger walked into the room and threw himself in the sofa chair the guys left available for him, still cracking up with laughter. “God. You should have seen the look on your face. Who is fucking like bunnies? Give me the good gossip! No one ever tells me the good stuff.” He looked behind him. “Raf. You’re coming?”
Rafa waved his hand, occupied with the phone. “Wedding preparation.” Roger whispered to the others. “This is why I didn’t tell anyone when I got married. And there were like 50 people in there. Rafa has like 500. Brrr.” He mockingly shuddered.
Sasha looked at him for a long moment, long enough for Roger’s brows to start to furrow. Then he asked. “You’re not going?”
“To Rafa’s wedding?” Roger asked, glancing back to check Rafa was still busy on the phone. “Nah. It’s his day, you know. He doesn’t need me around there. It will cause lot of chaos. I never expected an invitation. He wasn’t in my wedding.”
He turned his attention to Stefanos again. “Wait. You haven’t said who you were talking about?”
The guys exchanged glances, eventually Sasha said. “Domi and Kiki.”
“Va te Faire fourtre!” Dominic exclaimed, flushing, but without heat.
Roger snorted, oblivious, but then frowned at the Austrian. “You didn’t drag her out here, did you? She’s in the middle of the Asian swing.”
Dominic lifted his brow, frowning slightly. “No, she’s in Asia. But that’s…come on Roger. Don’t sound like my coach. You travel with your entire family! You’re like my example whenever my camp gets annoyed when I want Kiki and I to share a room during a tournament.”
Roger rolled his eyes at him and bit on a smile. “I didn’t say it’s bad for you. I said it’s a distraction for her. Mirka never traveled with me when she was still playing professionally. Her coach was a nightmare. There was no way in hell.”
“Yes, but you were like twenty when she retired, no?” Dominic commented with a smirk. “That’s younger than almost any of us are.”
Roger smirked slightly and shrugged. “I didn’t say certain things didn’t work out in my favor along the way.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Rafa sank next to Roger on the sofa, his expression somber and raised his hand. It was bandaged. “Possibly I cannot play tomorrow.”
“What?!” 4 different voices exclaimed, except Roger who waited for him to break the news to the guys after talking to his own team.
Rafa, grumpily, shrugged. “Hurts too much. I will try to practice in the morning, but I think I can't play.”
“Who is playing then?” Sasha asked shakily. Roger looked at the four of them, slightly annoyed at the alarmed looks on their faces. He wanted them to see the situation as an opportunity, rather than a problem. “Well, guys. Who *wants* to play? We need someone who will play doubles with me, and someone who will play against Nick.”
They all fell silent. Roger’s eyes narrowed at them. “Let’s start with the doubles.” He hesitated, then looked at Zverev. “It’s between you and Fabio.” He looked at Fabio. “Up to you. You have a lot more doubles experience.”
There was no one in the room who missed the flash of hurt on Sasha’s face at that one. The bite of the lip, the remote glance away. Including Roger.
“Sasha.” Roger started. “I want to save you, for you to close the matches. Do you want to play both? Fabio only played on the first day. He’s more fresh.”
“*You’re* going to play both doubles and singles and you’re - ” He stopped himself at the last moment at Roger’s raise of brow and slightly amused smile. “Anyway, I want to play.” The German said gruffly.
Roger looked at Fabio, who shrugged at Roger with a smirk and a handwave. “If the kid wants to play its his. Like he said, we’re old. He’s young. He should be good for a few matches in one day. If not, better for him to figure it out now.”
Roger stared down Fabio a bit for the cope-out, but didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at Sasha cautiously. “Okay then. But if we lose the doubles, you’re not going to get your head down for the singles, right? We need you for the singles. This is why I preferred two different people to be playing. Less baggage for the second match.”
“I promise.”
Sasha said, his voice serious.
“Okay.” Roger sighed. “What about the singles. Well. Actually We can only play Stefanos against Nick.” He looked toward the young man, who nodded eagerly. Roger frowned at him. “You played Nick super close just now, right? In the US hard-court season?”
The young man looked down. “I lost though.”
Roger shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Focus on what you did right there and we’ll watch it on youtube together early tomorrow.” His eyes went around them. “Are we good then?”
There were nods everywhere, and he finally relaxed, glancing at Rafa. “When do we tell Team world?”
Rafa frowned at him, with a raised brow. “Should be now, no?”
Fabio rolled his eyes at them. “Puta. Wait till morning. Rafa’s not sure yet, right?”
Rafa raised his eye at him. “Much more sure than not. But yeah, maybe if there is a miracle it doesn’t hurt and I play.”
Fabio turned to Roger and cocked a brow. “Is a competition, or an exo? If competition, we wait. If an Exo, we tell them now, you're the boss and you decide.”
Roger bit on his lip. He didn’t want to set a bad example. But he didn’t want to give the other team a better chance to prepare, either. And Rafa hasn’t given a final answer yet.
“We wait till after your morning practice, is that alright?” He asked Rafa, who shrugged. “I am not hopeful, Rogelio. But I try.”
Sasha sniggered at the nickname, but clammed up at Roger’s sharp look at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” Sasha said quickly. “Just stuff that are in my head.” He reached for something to say. “Hey, you guys want some more of ‘em beers?” He realized his error the moment the words came out of his mouth. For a second he forgot who he was talking to and what was the occasion.
Dominic blanched as Roger’s eyes widened. He stared at the younger man. “You really had beers? When you’re playing tomorrow?! Come on, guys, what the hell are you doing.” He bit on the rest of it, because he was not Sasha’s coach, or dad. But the stupidity of that killed him.
“Just a beer each.” Sasha said, his voice small, but quick to implicate the others in his crimes.
“Not me.” Stef piqued. “I don’t drink.” He cowed away from the hateful look Sasha sent his way.
Rafa, angry, shot something at Fognini in Spanish. The Italian shrugged, and smirked. “A glass of wine for dinner is normal. Come on. Doesn’t interfere with match. Take away stress.”
Roger fixed his eyes on the Italian, unhappily. “For *you*, because you’re used to drinks with dinner. But Stef doesn’t drink at all, and none of their coaches are okay with drinking the night before a match. When I bring them here in the middle of a season I have some responsibility to making sure they do their normal pre-match routine. Never mind that I do actually want to win that thing!” He got up, annoyed. “Am I alone here or what?”
Dominic frowned at him, “You don’t even have a glass of wine after a big win mid tournament?”
Roger rolled his eyes. “Maybe a glass of wine with dinner if I can manage to have dinner by 6 PM. I’m not having a beer on 21:30 before a big match. Not even after winning the Semis at Wimbledon this year.” He suddenly glanced at Rafa and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”, and accepted Rafa’s dismissive hand gesture as a response.
“You get drunk after the Finals are over. Win or lose.” He continued. “Which I definitely also did after Wimbledon this year.” He said with a resigned eye-roll and a small smile.
Sasha smirked slightly. “Well, maybe drinking before the finals would have taken down stress, and help with those match points.”
Roger didn’t laugh. Neither did anyone else. The room was filled with silence associated with a lot of internal cringing. Roger’s mouth did that thing when it puckered a bit.
“Well Sash, when I want your advice on how to de-stress before a big match, I’ll be sure to ask for it. It’s probably not going to be this season though.”
The moment the harsh words were out of his mouth, Roger regretted them. It came out completely wrong.
Sasha instantly turned pale and teary. “Yes, I guess fucking your biggest rivals is a better way of de-stressing. Just maybe I won’t wait for the head to head to become this catastrophic.”
The silence from before was nothing in comparison to the silence of now. Roger stared at Sasha, who stared at him, then put his hand over his mouth and fled the room. Roger was frozen in place. He looked at Rafa, who was white and stared back at him. None of the other guys were looking at them.
Roger swallowed, and looked around. “What was that about?” He asked, his voice was hoarse and creaky.
“I saw you two two kissing. The other night. ” Dominic said, in his soft voice. “And Sasha suspected this even before. I - we weren’t going to tell you that we know. It’s none of our business.”
Roger stared at Dominic and flushed in anger. “You’re right. It isn’t. Are you really not grown enough keep what you saw to yourself?!” His tone was harsh, and he moved a shaky hand over his mouth, and looked at Rafa. “Get him to come back.” He said, a note of urgency in his voice.
Rafa cocked a skeptic brow. “Let him calm down. I don't want to hear more of his opinions anyway.”
“No fucking time, Raf. Get him back here, now. Before he gets back to his camp with this tale. NOW.”
Rafa sighed, but wasn’t about to argue, then went off after Sasha.
Roger went out to the balcony and inhaled mouthful of cold air against the panic attack battering at him. Fabio went after him, signaling the others to stay where they are. Which they gladly did. He leaned next to him against the railing.
“I’m here to make sure you’re not jumping.” He said, dead serious.
Roger glanced at him and let out a half-bark of a laugh. “Don’t be an idiot. FUCK. FUCK. We were so careful.”
“Making out in hallways of hotels isn’t careful.” The Italian shook his head. “You’re fucking stupid. Roger. Both of you. Fucking stupid. Who knows?”
“Everyone who should know. We’re not lying to anyone if that what you’re asking. Which is why I’m not jumping from any tall building.”
Fabio let out a slight sigh of relief. “Good. I - that’s really good.” He gave Roger a long look. “You have good life. Don’t fuck them up.”
Roger glanced at Fabio. “You don’t have any other reaction to this?”
The Italian snorted, and took a drink from his beer then offered it to Roger. “I like sex too much to be judging what other people seem to enjoy. And Nadal has a good ass. I am an ass person.”
Roger’s lip curved up. “That he does.” He exhaled, and turned back to look at the room. “Fuck. Do you think those guys can keep it to themselves?” He looked at the Italian. “Can *you*?”
Fabio shrugged. “Me - don’t worry about. Them, I don’t know. They’re YOUNG. This a big secret to keep, Rodge.”
They turned at the sound of the glass doors to the balcony opening up. Rafa stood there, along with Sasha. The spaniard pushed the younger man in unceremoniously. Fabio used the time to take his leave.
“Send the others out here, too.” Roger said and watched as Stef and Dominic joined them.
“Don’t worry.” Sasha said shortly once they were all out there, not looking at Roger but at his feet. “I won’t tell on you guys. I already told Rafa that. I’m not that guy. You didn’t have to drag me out here again.”
”Us neither. Roger.” Domi said, his expression forlorn. “I’m sorry I said something, but - it was.. you were getting kind of obvious, the last few days.”
“Guys “ Roger said, softly. “We’re not going behind anyone’s back, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just the world in general that doesn’t know. Our families and closest friends do know. It’s not a secret to anyone who matters, but I don’t need it on social media, and it’s not something that happens all that often, either.”
“Oh.” Sasha said, surprised and relieved. He swallowed. “Okay then. That’s good. But - why? I mean...I don’t get it.”
Roger smiled a little, and glanced at Rafa, who flushed. “Is complicated, no?” Rafa said to Sasha. His voice harsher than normal. “And also private.”
The spaniard looked at Roger and shook his head, who got the hint and gave a sheepish half smile to the rest of them. “Seems like that’s all the info you’re going to get, guys.” .
He looked at Stefanos, whom he probably knew the least. “Stef. Are we good? If not, I need to know now. If this thing is going to leak now, then there are things that we both need to do. With our families. PR wise. If you can’t keep it I to yourself now is the time to tell us. I won’t be mad.” He paused. “Actually, I will be mad, but I will be a lot angrier if you swear to me up and down that you’re good with keeping secrets and this thing leaks tomorrow..”
“But I always thought you were sleeping together. Even before I was on pro tour. I even wrote a story about that once. When I was fifteen.” He shrugged. “I’m not going to tell.”.
Rafa flushed, moved a hand over his face and mumbled something to himself in Spanish, while Sasha snorted. “Now we know who is responsible for all of that Fedal fanfiction online.”
Roger looked at Stefanos hesitatingly. “At long as there isn’t a story about this, it’s all good….I guess.”
He ran a hand over his face and glanced at Rafa, who looked quite content to let Roger run the show but was in complete agreement with him. “It’s late. We have all the matches tomorrow. Just - go to your rooms.”
He was aware that he sounded like their father, which he wasn't, but he's had enough.
The guys looked at each other. They weren’t completely ready to call the night over but their urge to argue with Roger about it at that very second was small to non-existent.
Domi got up, so did Stef. Sasha turned to leave, but Roger had him by the arm. “Sasha, wait a minute.”
Sasha, not looking at Roger, shook his hand away easily but raised his head defiantly as he turned. “What?”.
Roger hesitated. He was close to the young German and wanted to make things right with him. He reached out to his arm. “I’m sorry about before. I meant to banter, but not to go to the jugular like that about your season. That’s - I fucked that one up. The match point comment just rubbed me wrong and I shouldn’t have let it get to me.”
“I was only trying to joke and you used something that I was talking to you privately about, in front of guys I will have to play with for the next 15 years.” Sasha said, the hurt clear in his voice. “And you don’t trust me with the matches, either. It hurts when it’s you who is saying these things in way that it doesn’t hurt when others do it. You know why. So - “ He panted a little. “Look. I want to go back to my room. I’m sorry about what I said to you in return. I was hurt.”
Roger was in a loss for words. He looked at Rafa who looked at the young German coldly. “Probably me you should apologize to, no?”
Sasha moved a hand over his face. “Yes. I’m sorry. Look. I feel like crap now. I want to go to my room. Can I go now?” He stopped and checked himself. “Wait. What am I saying. You’re not my parents or my coaches. Good night.
He walked out of the balcony and out of the room.
When they were alone in the balcony, Roger buried his face in his hands. “Shit. Shit.”
Rafa, gruffly, pulled him closer so that Roger was standing between his legs.. “Is about him. Not about you. It’s a difficult role you’re trying to be for him. He has his own issues.”
Roger sighed. “It’s just that he puts me on a pedestal that isn’t really realistic. Fuck, God only knows what will happen with the matches tomorrow. I want to win this.”
“Will be fine. Zverev will be fine. You will be fine.”
Roger had his eyes on Rafa. “What about us? Are we fine?”
Rafa smiled a little sadly. “Define fine. Rogelio. We are what we are. Who we are. Choices we make.”
Roger swallowed hard. “You’re not sleeping in my room tonight, are you?”
Rafa smiled a little. “You have a lot of tennis coming tomorrow. You need to sleep. Not to fuck me.” Roger blinked his lips, but recognized the justice in that. “We could just sleep.”
Rafa cocked a brow at him, and Roger sighed. “Yes. Bad idea on multiple levels.”
“Roger. I cannot play tomorrow. I don’t gamble on wrist.”
“I know. I don’t want you push it.”
Rafa reached for Roger’s lips. It was easy. they were equal at height., but the hands on Roger’s waist were iron, and did not allow Roger to push for closer proximity. When the kiss was over, he slightly pushed Roger away. “I’m going to sleep.”
Roger gave a slight nod. “Go. I will sit with Fabio for a while and watch the rest of the game.”
Rafa gave him a look. “Him I trust the least. Less then the others. When he drinks he talks a lot.”
Roger shrugged. “I’ll work on it. Not much else to be done.”
Rafa nodded, then raised his eyes to Roger and for the first time Roger could see the tension there. “Before the wedding. Is bad time for publicity.”
“Are you marrying her because you finally gave up. ” Roger said, hurriedly, pained. Like he was trying to get the question out before he lost his nerve.
Rafa’s look on him was steady. “I love Meri. And you can’t give up what you don't have.” He moved his head to plant a kiss on the side of Roger’s face. Then moved away and out of the balcony.
Roger was standing there, watching the lights of the city for a long, long time after he was gone.