Work Text:
The knock.
The first came soft.
Then a little more demanding.
And then firm, wanting.
Jannik stared at the clock. One in the morning. There was only one person who would come this late at night. He didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to face the man he knew was on the other side of the door. The feeling of uncertainty settled in his stomach, making him nauseous.
He rolled out of his king-sized bed, which did in fact feel empty without the warmth that sometimes lay next to him. He stood there for a second before walking slowly to the door, footsteps nearly silent. He breathed in and out through his nose, trying to calm the lingering nerves from his earlier match and from the situation about to unfold.
His hand twisted the doorknob, cracking the door open slightly. Hesitation filled his veins before he swung it all the way open, revealing a face he had prayed he wouldn’t see on the other side.
Carlos stood there, eyes drooping, a smile lighting up his face after he noticed Jannik—as if he hadn’t expected it to be him. Jannik stood there, silent, his hand still tight on the doorknob.
He parted his lips, trying to find the words to say to a most definitely half-asleep Carlos. His eyes uncontrollably shot down to Carlos’ lips, trying to ignore the need rising in him. They stood there, comforted by each other’s presence for a few minutes—Jannik still thinking of what to say, yet still nothing but silence came. There was so much to say, though he couldn’t think of a single word.
Carlos rubbed his eyes, yawning. “Can I sleep with you?” he asked, not aware of how that sentence sounded. Jannik’s jaw dropped a little lower. He wanted to slam the door, to tell Carlos no, but he couldn’t. Their relationship had always been questionable, but he had never expected Carlos to be so straightforward. Their whole rivalry was passive; Jannik had never thought any of their conversations would involve something so direct.
Jannik raised his right eyebrow, surprised by the question, when Carlos suddenly put his hands up, crossing them frantically.
“No… not like that,” Carlos mumbled, almost under his breath, his accent more pronounced. Jannik noticed his hand reach out, about to grab his wrist, before he tried to play it off by scratching the back of his ear. Not smooth. Blush spread across Jannik’s cheeks quickly at the small gesture, making his pale skin look red as can be. He wished Carlos wouldn’t notice, even though he was obviously struggling to stay awake.
“I’m just not sleeping well, and I thought that I could… y’know. I’m sorry if I woke you up,” Carlos said, hesitating slightly as the words left his lips. Jannik double-checked the hallway to make sure no one was near.
It was true—Jannik couldn’t sleep either—but the last thing he would’ve thought to do was knock on his biggest rival’s door. How had Carlos even gotten his room number? Jannik sighed softly at the thought of him asking Darren or Simone. He prayed they wouldn’t look too much into it.
After a moment of awkward silence, Jannik nodded, moving out of the way to let Carlos in. Carlos was too busy fidgeting with his hands to notice immediately. The anxiety in Jannik’s head worsened by the minute. The unpredictability of the situation made him panic. He was too used to everything being in his control. Every point, every game, every match was always in his hands. He could always decide his fate. But here, with Carlos, he never could.
Carlos stepped inside, his shoulder briefly brushing Jannik’s chest with a faint, deliberate weight. The contact was nothing, completely unintentional, but it made Jannik more aware that Carlos was here—and that he wanted him. The heat from Carlos’ sleep-deprived body radiated into Jannik’s. He still felt uncertain, his mind denying how his heart felt. He tried to ignore it, but no matter what he did, the feeling lingered in his chest. So why not act upon it now?
By the time Jannik walked into the room, Carlos was already lying on his bed, legs sprawled out. Jannik chuckled softly at the sight, watching as Carlos twitched at the sound. He walked over to the bed, sitting upright next to him, suddenly self-conscious. His room wasn’t exactly clean like it typically was, and all he wore was boxers and a t-shirt. Carlos didn’t seem to care, his head buried in the pillow, scooting closer to Jannik as if he wouldn’t notice.
Jannik grabbed his phone, scrolling absently through Instagram. He never did this, rarely touched his phone, but this was all too unfamiliar—he had to find a way to avoid it. The screen was his only way to ignore Carlos right now. One of Carlos’ recent posts popped up, making Jannik painfully aware of Carlos’ new position: his head resting against his hip, breath fanning across his shirt.
The warmth seeped into him, undoing him slowly. Jannik tried to ignore the wanting for intimacy, but eventually gave in. He set his alarm, only five hours away, and placed his phone down on the nightstand with a soft thud.
He tried to make sense of it. Carlos sound asleep next to him—again. How did he let this happen? Last time he swore he would maintain distance, but with Carlos, he never could. Even though he knew this was his rival, and that he couldn’t show vulnerability to him, he couldn’t stay away. He always gave in.
The silence felt thick, but not heavy. He carefully lifted the covers over himself and Carlos, trying not to wake him. He laid his head on the pillow next to Carlos. Hesitant at first, he lay there, trying to process it. He tried to convince himself it was just temporary, just exhaustion. But as Carlos shifted, his hand now reaching across Jannik’s waist, his denial crumbled.
Jannik curled up next to him, his head resting against Carlos’ shoulder. His rival’s soft breaths against him made him feel fuzzy. His heart raced, and he was sure it was loud enough to wake Carlos. Jannik found it similar to the feeling before a match—before he played Carlos. Carlos was such a unique player, and it became addictive to Jannik. Always wanting to meet him in the final, always checking his scores. But was this ever really about tennis?
He pressed a soft, closed-mouth kiss to the top of Carlos’ head, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. Carlos’ heartbeat was steady, so much calmer compared to Jannik’s. Jannik’s eyes began to droop, his heartbeat slowing in the grasp of the one he subconsciously longed for the most. He wrapped his arm around Carlos, closing his eyes.
~
Jannik woke to the buzz of his alarm. Instinctively, he wanted to reach over, turn it off, and get out of bed. But the weight in his arms kept him still. Carlos—still there.
His eyes remained closed, his clothes slightly wrinkled, his breath warm against Jannik. He didn’t think about what it meant. Instead, he pressed another kiss to his head, taking in the moment.
All of a sudden, he didn’t feel uncertain anymore. He felt full. He turned off his alarm. Laying back down, arm curling once more around Carlos, he let himself stay.
For once, tennis could wait.