(no subject)
Title: That Monster Under The Bed
Author: triplebagel
Recipient: hollabee
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Pairing: Rafael Nadal/Marc Lopez
Prompt: Sharing hotel rooms
Rating: PG-13
A clock on the wall opposite him ticked obnoxiously and Marc liked to imagine that its sounds were the reason why he was still awake. He stared at it, watching as the seconds passed. They didn't feel like seconds - more like endless, stretched-out minutes - but even so he was surprised at how late it was already. 3AM, he should have been asleep hours ago. Rafa definitely was.
He sighed, closing his eyes even though he knew it wouldn't work. His body ached from a long day of hard work, but something was keeping it awake. Possibly his restless mind, or maybe even the arm so comfortably slung across his side. A hand dangled, fingers brushing his skin with every breath, and he dared not stare at it. He knew what was keeping him awake and it wasn't his vivid imagination. Or maybe it was. Marc swallowed.
It had happened quite a lot lately, him waking up to Rafa's arm around him, or a leg warm against his. They'd erected pillows in the centre of the bed every single time, even adding a racquet bag once or twice, but when asleep Rafa didn't seem to care. Limbs splayed everywhere, sheets wrapped around his waist, and more than once Marc had found himself in the, albeit loving, embrace of his best friend.
They shouldn't even be sleeping in the same bed, Marc knew. His eyes drifted to the couch, empty and clearly big enough to hold an average sized person. He knew it and also knew that Uncle Toni thought that was where he slept, would probably be cross if he found out otherwise. There was no reason for it, except that Rafa had convinced him that there was no reason for Marc to sleep anywhere but a comfortable bed either. It was king-sized, after all, and no one was as hard to disagree with as a determined Rafael Nadal.
Marc's skin itched where Rafa touched him, but he didn't move. Rafa wasn't a light sleeper, but he was a sensitive one and Marc had found that out early on when he'd tried to push the younger man back to his own side of the bed. His jaw still hurt from the flailing arm that had struck him in the face, but at least Rafa had been very apologetic about it.
His breath hitched as he could hear and feel his friend move. The arm tightened around him just as a leg threatened to hook around his. He moved his own out of the way quickly, finding himself at a rather uncomfortable and odd angle. Marc scowled.
“Rafa!” He poked the other man's arm viciously. “Wake up!”
“Huh?”
If he hadn't been so annoyed, Marc would have admitted that Rafa was rather endearing with a head of bed-hair and heavy lidded eyes. It always took him a while to focus and Marc waited patiently for him to catch up and pull his limbs back. Rafa did so with a flush.
“Oh, damn, sorry. I did it again, didn't I?”
“Yes,” Marc said grumpily, stretching his arms and legs. Pins and needles wheedled their way up his arms, making it much easier for Marc to deal with the guilty look on his countryman's face.
Rafa rubbed his head, still blushing. “Won't happen again, I swear.”
Marc just nodded, head facing away. He knew that it would.
~~
The next morning he awoke alone, though he could still see the shape of his friend in the way the sheets were bunched up on the other side of the bed. He knew there'd be a note, telling him where Rafa had gone and what the plans were, but instead of getting up he just stared at the ceiling. It was starting to get ridiculous.
Three weeks now, they'd slept in the same bed under the guise of there not being enough room in the hotel. The first week he'd believed that, the second he thought Rafa was just suffering through another of his darkness-related anxieties, but now? Now he was sometimes faced with Rafa nestled against his back, breaths whispering against his ear. And he didn't even mind.
That wasn't normal, was it? Was it normal to lie awake for hours because he didn't push Rafa away, that he rather liked the possessiveness his friend showed when he wasn't awake? Was it normal to not want to wake him up, because Marc very rarely saw him as relaxed as he was when wrapped around him? Was it?
“Fuck this,” he muttered to himself, forcing his eyes shut and pulling a sheet over his head. It was warm, comfortable, so he soon drifted back to sleep.
An hour later he woke up again, this time because of Rafael Nadal pulling at him.
“What?” he groused, turning over. His friend stood at the side of the bed, arms crossed and trying to look stern. Instead he looked constipated and Marc snorted.
“You missed breakfast and we have practice in half an hour.”
“Yeah, well, I didn't get much sleep last night. Again.”
“Because of me,” Rafa mumbled.
“Yes, because of you, but that's fine. Has the hotel found my reservation yet?”
“No. They looked, but couldn't find it. They might have a room next Sunday.”
Marc rolled his eyes. Rafa really wasn't kidding anyone.
“Which just happens to final day and not worth it. I'm not an idiot, you know. I know I'm not a household name like you, but they wouldn't forget my booking three weeks in a row. I know that, Rafa.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” Marc repeated. He was faced with nothing but silence. Rafa started pacing restlessly.
Marc sighed. “Rafa, if you have trouble sleeping alone, you should just tell me. You know I've always been there for you. For fuck's sake, I was the one who always made sure the bathroom light was on when we shared rooms before. It's fine.”
“That's not it.”
“Then what is? Why keep up this charade?”
“Nothing.”
“Again, I am not stupid.”
The door slammed shut before Marc even realized Rafa had gotten off the bed. He sighed.
~~
That night he was awake again, but not because Rafa ignored the very concepts of personal space, but because the man wasn't actually there. The other side of the bed was strangely empty and the clock said 4AM. It was incredibly late, all of Marc's texts had gone unanswered, and he was getting mighty close to informing Toni. He just didn't want to do that to his best friend, so he alternated between checking his phone, eyeing the clock, and staring at the door.
At 5AM exact, the door squeaked open. Rafa tiptoed inside, dragging a bag along with him and dropping it in the corner. Marc watched as he undressed, then sat down on the bed. Suddenly, their eyes met.
“Where were you?” he hissed. “Toni would kill you if he knew you were up this late.”
The sheets rustled. “I was with Feli.”
Marc frowned. “Why the hell would he keep you up this late? He knows Toni wouldn't approve.”
“He didn't. I was going to sleep there, but snuck out.”
Marc found it really difficult not to be jealous. Feliciano Lopez wasn't supposed to be that to Rafa. He wasn't supposed to take Marc's role. Feliciano had enough going for him, he didn't need to take the one thing that made Marc feel like he wasn't just the clueless doubles partner Rafa sometimes chose to play with.
“So why didn't you?”
“Because,” Rafa's voice was closer now and Marc looked over to see the pillows had been pushed aside. His pulse quickened as he saw that Rafa's side of the sheets had been as well, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. The scene reminded him somewhat of those ridiculous Armani shoots his friend did, nothing but lean muscle, stretches of skin and low-slung underwear. His throat went dry, though he told himself it was just because he'd just been asleep.
“Because I couldn't sleep.”
“You've never had trouble with falling asleep before.”
“I have,” Rafa whispered, edging close. “Just not with you.”
“Oh.”
A shadow fell over his chest as an arm wrapped around his waist. He watched with big eyes, looking at their way skin looked against skin. Marc was pretty sure Rafael was still awake, so then...
“Rafa,” he started, voice failing as he could feel his friend's nose bump against the shell of his ear, the breathing against his cheek. Lips, soft and wet, touched his neck and he nearly bolted. This wasn't normal. This was most definitely not normal. He was going to let Rafa know. He was going to get up and leave. He was going to knock on Marcel's door and sleep there. He was going to-
“Is this okay?”
His heart constricted at the fear in his friend's voice. There was nothing but unease written on the younger man's face, as if things were falling apart around him even though nothing had happened yet. Rafa sat up and Marc followed. They sat there staring at each other.
“You don't think this is okay,” Rafa whispered. “I thought you wouldn't, but Feli said... I mean... Never mind, I'm an idiot.”
“What did Feli say?” Marc asked softly, not even sure what he was doing or supposed to be doing. Was there a protocol for this? Was he even supposed to blush because Rafa was looking at him, constantly looking at him, and every nervous lick of the lips made his ears burn? Rafa had never looked at him in quite that way before.
“That we've been sleeping in the same bed for weeks now and you never said a word. That it meant something. That I should...” His friend sounded frantic.
“Should what?” Marc asked calmly, though his heart was racing.
“Kiss you.”
“Feli,” Marc started, “needs to stop sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.”
The clock ticked away on the wall again, heavy and ever-present. It sounded otherworldly loud to Marc's ears and he wondered if his friend heard it too. Rafa didn't seem to notice, though, for he was staring at Marc with a look of panic.
“And for fuck's sake, Rafa, stop looking at me like that,” Marc snarled. “I'm not going to bite your head off, so just calm down already.”
“I thought you'd be mad.”
“I'm not mad. Feliciano has a knack of bringing out the stupid in people, it's fine.”
“It is not stupid!”
“Well, what would you call it, then?”
Rafa turned from panicked to furious so quickly that it almost made Marc's head spin. It made adrenaline drum through his veins, as if it was preparing for something. He rather liked the rushing in his ears, or the way Rafa bit his lips in annoyance. He liked seeing emotions in him.
“You're fucking frustrating, you know that?!”
He was about to make a smart-ass comment. He was. Something about pots and kettles and black, but he was interrupted. Rafa was kissing him. It wasn't even a soft, gentle one, but a full-on hands-on-neck-lips smashing-together one, with maybe a hint of tongue. Startled, Marc almost pulled back.
Almost. Almost, because something thundered in his ears and beat against his ribcage, drowning out the solemn ticking of the clock. Rafa's hands moved, from scalp to neck to ribcage and back up again. As if he couldn't decide what to focus on first. Marc took his hands in his, pushing them down against the bed. Their foreheads rested against each other as they broke the kiss, still so very close.
“So maybe this wasn't so stupid,” Marc whispered.
Rafa gave him a shy grin. “Maybe?”
“Probably. You still have to calm down, though. I'm not going anywhere.”
~~
After that, Marc slept a lot easier and his life improved drastically. Feliciano Lopez' ego, however, became impossible to live with, but Marc didn't even mind.
Author: triplebagel
Recipient: hollabee
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Pairing: Rafael Nadal/Marc Lopez
Prompt: Sharing hotel rooms
Rating: PG-13
A clock on the wall opposite him ticked obnoxiously and Marc liked to imagine that its sounds were the reason why he was still awake. He stared at it, watching as the seconds passed. They didn't feel like seconds - more like endless, stretched-out minutes - but even so he was surprised at how late it was already. 3AM, he should have been asleep hours ago. Rafa definitely was.
He sighed, closing his eyes even though he knew it wouldn't work. His body ached from a long day of hard work, but something was keeping it awake. Possibly his restless mind, or maybe even the arm so comfortably slung across his side. A hand dangled, fingers brushing his skin with every breath, and he dared not stare at it. He knew what was keeping him awake and it wasn't his vivid imagination. Or maybe it was. Marc swallowed.
It had happened quite a lot lately, him waking up to Rafa's arm around him, or a leg warm against his. They'd erected pillows in the centre of the bed every single time, even adding a racquet bag once or twice, but when asleep Rafa didn't seem to care. Limbs splayed everywhere, sheets wrapped around his waist, and more than once Marc had found himself in the, albeit loving, embrace of his best friend.
They shouldn't even be sleeping in the same bed, Marc knew. His eyes drifted to the couch, empty and clearly big enough to hold an average sized person. He knew it and also knew that Uncle Toni thought that was where he slept, would probably be cross if he found out otherwise. There was no reason for it, except that Rafa had convinced him that there was no reason for Marc to sleep anywhere but a comfortable bed either. It was king-sized, after all, and no one was as hard to disagree with as a determined Rafael Nadal.
Marc's skin itched where Rafa touched him, but he didn't move. Rafa wasn't a light sleeper, but he was a sensitive one and Marc had found that out early on when he'd tried to push the younger man back to his own side of the bed. His jaw still hurt from the flailing arm that had struck him in the face, but at least Rafa had been very apologetic about it.
His breath hitched as he could hear and feel his friend move. The arm tightened around him just as a leg threatened to hook around his. He moved his own out of the way quickly, finding himself at a rather uncomfortable and odd angle. Marc scowled.
“Rafa!” He poked the other man's arm viciously. “Wake up!”
“Huh?”
If he hadn't been so annoyed, Marc would have admitted that Rafa was rather endearing with a head of bed-hair and heavy lidded eyes. It always took him a while to focus and Marc waited patiently for him to catch up and pull his limbs back. Rafa did so with a flush.
“Oh, damn, sorry. I did it again, didn't I?”
“Yes,” Marc said grumpily, stretching his arms and legs. Pins and needles wheedled their way up his arms, making it much easier for Marc to deal with the guilty look on his countryman's face.
Rafa rubbed his head, still blushing. “Won't happen again, I swear.”
Marc just nodded, head facing away. He knew that it would.
~~
The next morning he awoke alone, though he could still see the shape of his friend in the way the sheets were bunched up on the other side of the bed. He knew there'd be a note, telling him where Rafa had gone and what the plans were, but instead of getting up he just stared at the ceiling. It was starting to get ridiculous.
Three weeks now, they'd slept in the same bed under the guise of there not being enough room in the hotel. The first week he'd believed that, the second he thought Rafa was just suffering through another of his darkness-related anxieties, but now? Now he was sometimes faced with Rafa nestled against his back, breaths whispering against his ear. And he didn't even mind.
That wasn't normal, was it? Was it normal to lie awake for hours because he didn't push Rafa away, that he rather liked the possessiveness his friend showed when he wasn't awake? Was it normal to not want to wake him up, because Marc very rarely saw him as relaxed as he was when wrapped around him? Was it?
“Fuck this,” he muttered to himself, forcing his eyes shut and pulling a sheet over his head. It was warm, comfortable, so he soon drifted back to sleep.
An hour later he woke up again, this time because of Rafael Nadal pulling at him.
“What?” he groused, turning over. His friend stood at the side of the bed, arms crossed and trying to look stern. Instead he looked constipated and Marc snorted.
“You missed breakfast and we have practice in half an hour.”
“Yeah, well, I didn't get much sleep last night. Again.”
“Because of me,” Rafa mumbled.
“Yes, because of you, but that's fine. Has the hotel found my reservation yet?”
“No. They looked, but couldn't find it. They might have a room next Sunday.”
Marc rolled his eyes. Rafa really wasn't kidding anyone.
“Which just happens to final day and not worth it. I'm not an idiot, you know. I know I'm not a household name like you, but they wouldn't forget my booking three weeks in a row. I know that, Rafa.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” Marc repeated. He was faced with nothing but silence. Rafa started pacing restlessly.
Marc sighed. “Rafa, if you have trouble sleeping alone, you should just tell me. You know I've always been there for you. For fuck's sake, I was the one who always made sure the bathroom light was on when we shared rooms before. It's fine.”
“That's not it.”
“Then what is? Why keep up this charade?”
“Nothing.”
“Again, I am not stupid.”
The door slammed shut before Marc even realized Rafa had gotten off the bed. He sighed.
~~
That night he was awake again, but not because Rafa ignored the very concepts of personal space, but because the man wasn't actually there. The other side of the bed was strangely empty and the clock said 4AM. It was incredibly late, all of Marc's texts had gone unanswered, and he was getting mighty close to informing Toni. He just didn't want to do that to his best friend, so he alternated between checking his phone, eyeing the clock, and staring at the door.
At 5AM exact, the door squeaked open. Rafa tiptoed inside, dragging a bag along with him and dropping it in the corner. Marc watched as he undressed, then sat down on the bed. Suddenly, their eyes met.
“Where were you?” he hissed. “Toni would kill you if he knew you were up this late.”
The sheets rustled. “I was with Feli.”
Marc frowned. “Why the hell would he keep you up this late? He knows Toni wouldn't approve.”
“He didn't. I was going to sleep there, but snuck out.”
Marc found it really difficult not to be jealous. Feliciano Lopez wasn't supposed to be that to Rafa. He wasn't supposed to take Marc's role. Feliciano had enough going for him, he didn't need to take the one thing that made Marc feel like he wasn't just the clueless doubles partner Rafa sometimes chose to play with.
“So why didn't you?”
“Because,” Rafa's voice was closer now and Marc looked over to see the pillows had been pushed aside. His pulse quickened as he saw that Rafa's side of the sheets had been as well, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. The scene reminded him somewhat of those ridiculous Armani shoots his friend did, nothing but lean muscle, stretches of skin and low-slung underwear. His throat went dry, though he told himself it was just because he'd just been asleep.
“Because I couldn't sleep.”
“You've never had trouble with falling asleep before.”
“I have,” Rafa whispered, edging close. “Just not with you.”
“Oh.”
A shadow fell over his chest as an arm wrapped around his waist. He watched with big eyes, looking at their way skin looked against skin. Marc was pretty sure Rafael was still awake, so then...
“Rafa,” he started, voice failing as he could feel his friend's nose bump against the shell of his ear, the breathing against his cheek. Lips, soft and wet, touched his neck and he nearly bolted. This wasn't normal. This was most definitely not normal. He was going to let Rafa know. He was going to get up and leave. He was going to knock on Marcel's door and sleep there. He was going to-
“Is this okay?”
His heart constricted at the fear in his friend's voice. There was nothing but unease written on the younger man's face, as if things were falling apart around him even though nothing had happened yet. Rafa sat up and Marc followed. They sat there staring at each other.
“You don't think this is okay,” Rafa whispered. “I thought you wouldn't, but Feli said... I mean... Never mind, I'm an idiot.”
“What did Feli say?” Marc asked softly, not even sure what he was doing or supposed to be doing. Was there a protocol for this? Was he even supposed to blush because Rafa was looking at him, constantly looking at him, and every nervous lick of the lips made his ears burn? Rafa had never looked at him in quite that way before.
“That we've been sleeping in the same bed for weeks now and you never said a word. That it meant something. That I should...” His friend sounded frantic.
“Should what?” Marc asked calmly, though his heart was racing.
“Kiss you.”
“Feli,” Marc started, “needs to stop sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.”
The clock ticked away on the wall again, heavy and ever-present. It sounded otherworldly loud to Marc's ears and he wondered if his friend heard it too. Rafa didn't seem to notice, though, for he was staring at Marc with a look of panic.
“And for fuck's sake, Rafa, stop looking at me like that,” Marc snarled. “I'm not going to bite your head off, so just calm down already.”
“I thought you'd be mad.”
“I'm not mad. Feliciano has a knack of bringing out the stupid in people, it's fine.”
“It is not stupid!”
“Well, what would you call it, then?”
Rafa turned from panicked to furious so quickly that it almost made Marc's head spin. It made adrenaline drum through his veins, as if it was preparing for something. He rather liked the rushing in his ears, or the way Rafa bit his lips in annoyance. He liked seeing emotions in him.
“You're fucking frustrating, you know that?!”
He was about to make a smart-ass comment. He was. Something about pots and kettles and black, but he was interrupted. Rafa was kissing him. It wasn't even a soft, gentle one, but a full-on hands-on-neck-lips smashing-together one, with maybe a hint of tongue. Startled, Marc almost pulled back.
Almost. Almost, because something thundered in his ears and beat against his ribcage, drowning out the solemn ticking of the clock. Rafa's hands moved, from scalp to neck to ribcage and back up again. As if he couldn't decide what to focus on first. Marc took his hands in his, pushing them down against the bed. Their foreheads rested against each other as they broke the kiss, still so very close.
“So maybe this wasn't so stupid,” Marc whispered.
Rafa gave him a shy grin. “Maybe?”
“Probably. You still have to calm down, though. I'm not going anywhere.”
~~
After that, Marc slept a lot easier and his life improved drastically. Feliciano Lopez' ego, however, became impossible to live with, but Marc didn't even mind.