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“We’re so sorry, Mr. Federer, if there is anything else we can do to help you please let us know,” Roger could see the genuine regret and desperation in the concierge’s voice and decided to let her off the hook. It wasn’t her fault after all.
See, what had happened was the usual hotel that he stayed at during the swiss open was currently overbooked. He did have a reservation, but there was a horrible snowstorm going on outside and the hotel had given away his room to a couple who needed a place to escape the weather. He couldn’t blame them for being good people, but that put him in a predicament currently.
“Could you maybe find out for me if there is a room in a nearby hotel that I can stay in?”
Roger could see the answer in her eyes before she started speaking.
“I’m afraid not. All of us are completely booked, and the ones who aren’t have already given away their free rooms for the night.”
Before he could even begin to think of a different solution, an all too familiar voice interrupted their conversation.
“Roger! You made it! Weather is horrible no?” The Swiss man could feel the smile that took over his face unconsciously at the words. A familiar warmth appeared at his back, standing just a little too close.
“Rafa! It’s so good to see you,” He turned around and gave the younger man a quick hug, and didn't go far after they’d both let go of each other. Rafa quickly scanned the concierge’s expression and frowned.
“Is there a problem?”
“We’re overbooked, sir, and it’s completely our fault, but we don’t have a room for Mr. Federer,”
“Overbooked?”
“It means they have more bookings than they have rooms. It’s ok, I’ll just call for the car to drive back to Basel and spend the night at home,”
“Don’t be stupid Rogelio, thats 3 hours away. And in this weather? No, I won't let you,”
“Ok, mom, what do you think I should do then?” He hadn’t stopped smiling during the entire conversation, just happy to be around his friend. To be around the man he wished was more than his friend.
“We share. My room is big, and they tell me the sofa turns into a bed,” Roger let the smile slip from his face. He didn’t know what Rafa meant by his offer, but his treacherous heart was trying to find all different kinds of meanings from the offer.
“Rafa, I don’t want to intrude, really-”
“Is not intruding if I offer, Rogelio. Besides I’m always happy to have you with me,” Oh if only Rafa knew the effect his words were having on the older man.
“If you’re sure..”
“Ofcourse I’m sure!” The Spaniard turned to face the relieved looking young woman. “Can we get Roger’s bags sent up to my room please?”
“Right away Mr. Nadal. I’ll have another key made for your friend as well.”
“Thankyou,” Rafa gave the girl a bright smile before steering Roger towards the elevator with a hand around his neck. He went without protest, skin warming under the younger man’s touch. The elevator arrived with a quiet ding, and they climbed in.
“Is your team not with you?” The question was directed at the closing doors.
“No, they’re booked into another hotel just down the street. Yours?”
“Same.” They fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, Rafa leading the way to his (now their) room when they arrived. Rafa opened the door with a flourish and stepped in.
“Welcome to your new home! For the next 2 weeks,” The Spaniard said with a ridiculously large grin on his face. Roger chuckled as he walked in. Rafa couldn’t have occupied the room more than a couple of hours, but his stuff was already all over the living area. A pair of tennis shoes were stuffed under the sofa, more than one pair of socks sticking out of them. His rackets were lying on the dining table, and there was a bright blue Nike jacket lying over the back of the chair. Rafa followed the older man’s gaze and slowly blushed a bright red. A small part of Roger wanted to coo at the expression. He buried that part deep inside him.
“Sorry for the mess, I clean it-” Rafa’s voice Roger’s attention back to him.
“No, no! It’s kind of nice actually. The room looks lived in,” The Swiss smiled to ease the tension.
“You really don’t mind? Is going to get much worse,”
“Well as long as you don’t mind me cleaning up a bit if it gets worse,” The older man’s voice was filled with humour.
Rafa gave him an annoyed look before moving further into the suite.
“You can keep your clothes in the cupboard, I don’t use it a lot,”
“Yeah, clearly you use the entire room as your wardrobe,” Rafa let out an amused chuckle at the continuous ribbing he was receiving.
“You keep talking like that, I gonna regret letting you stay here,”
“Oh I thought you’re always happy to have me?” Roger quoted his own words from the lobby back at him. Rafa turned around at the slight insecurity Roger couldn’t stop from bleeding into his voice. The Swiss man cursed himself internally for his lack of control.
“I am,” The Spaniard’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. “Anytime you want, Rogi.”
Roger gave him a small smile, different from his usual press grins, but all the more precious for it. Trust Rafa to find a way to turn a simple conversation into another way for Roger to fall deeper in love with him.
"You settle in Rogi. Mi casa es su casa," With a last smile, Rafa turned around and went into the bathroom. A couple of seconds later sounds of the shower starting were heard.
________________
The rest of the week passed surprisingly smoothly. The first night Rafa made the couch up into a bed and insisted on sleeping there, giving up his bed for Roger. They fought over that until they decided they would switch on alternate days.
They fell into a strange kind of domesticity. They were both busy during the day, either playing matches or practising with their own teams. But they always met up at night and had dinner together, Roger a little late by his standards and Rafa a little early. They got food from the restaurant sent up to their room, or went out together so Roger could introduce the other man to the wonders of Swiss cuisine.
As the days went on and both of them progressed into the tournament, a question popped into Roger's mind and wouldn't leave him alone. In all the time they had spent together, Roger hadn't seen Rafa talk to his girlfriend even once. Now, he could be talking to her during the day, but looking at how busy both their schedules were, he doubted that was the case.
But the Swiss didn't want to disturb the peace they had created, so he didn't ask.
Roger himself talked to Mirka daily, asked after the kids as he usually did even though she wasn't his girlfriend. No, they had a purely platonic relationship, and she was just the mother of his children and a dear friend.
They were having dinner on the weekend together in their room . Neither of them had matches the next day, so they were relaxed, having a glass of wine with their food.
The conversation was flowing freely, alcohol making them loosen their tongues. The topic of discussion ended up, as always, to the condition of their room. They were both laughing after some joke that Roger had cracked.
“You know, you remind me little of Mery,” At the mention of the young Spaniard’s girlfriend, Roger sobered up immediately. He couldn't get too carried away with their new found domesticity, Rafa was a taken man.
“How?” This time Roger was successful in hiding the true emotion in his words.
“She always keep insulting me to make me clean up my room. I don’t know why, she doesn’t even stay in the same room-” He suddenly seemed to catch a hold of himself, but the damage was already done.
If Roger were a better person, he would have let it go. But there was a treacherous feeling rising in his chest, something terribly close to hope, that he couldn't bear to suppress.
"Rafa, what-"
"Please don't ask, Rogi."
"I need to know, Rafa. Because if what you said is true…" Roger couldn't complete his thought.
"Fine, ok, i tell you," Rafa looked like he was being handed a death sentence.
"Meri, she… She's not actually my girlfriend. She is, como se dice, my beard,"
"Your beard? Rafa, are you-"
"Gay? Yes," The Spaniard looked like he was dreading Roger's reaction.
"You know I don't have a problem with that right? With who you are. In fact, I…" He paused for a second.
"I'm bisexual." Rafa gave him a relieved smile at that, and looked like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"So is there some special guy in your life?"
"No, I mean, yes. But he doesn't know how I feel, and it won't work out anyway,"
"Why? You'll never know if you don't try."
Rafa didn't say anything for a long time, and it looked like he was having a debate with himself. He came to a decision finally. He looked up from his food and straight into Roger's eyes.
"He's married and has 4 children."
It felt like time stopped for a handful of seconds. Rafa could have been talking about someone else, but the way he was looking at Roger, like he was waiting for his heart to be broken, cleared up any doubts for the Swiss. He decided to take a leap of faith.
"What if I told you that he was only married for the sake of the press, that his wife was a really close friend and the mother of his children, nothing more. What then? What would you do Rafa?" Roger could see the myriad of emotions going through the other man's head from his eyes, before he finally settled on one.
"It would depend on what he felt about me. If he feels what I do, that he loves me too, then I would kiss him right now. And never let him go again. Does he feel the same way?"
Roger's breath caught in his throat. His voice, when he spoke, was breathless.
"He does."
There was a huge smile on Rafa's face as he got up from his chair to come and stand beside the other man. And as he bent down to pull Roger into a kiss, he couldn't help but thank the snowstorm that led them to this moment.