(no subject)
When the Right Ones Comes Along
by almitablanca
~
"You've signed up to hit with Tommy tomorrow," Javi tells him when David finally gets free of the vultures who make up the press after his first round victory in Valencia. (And it may just be his imagination, but the vultures seem particularly vicious whenever he's playing at home, like they're just waiting for him to slip up. It's even worse now that Juan Carlos is no longer around to distract them.)
"Are you sure?" he asks because he certainly doesn't remember signing up to hit with anyone tomorrow. Of course, he's promised so many people so many things in the past week, he can't keep them straight anymore. And signing up to hit with Tommy sounds like something he would do, so...
Javi rolls his eyes at that just like David knew he would. "Yes, I'm sure. Court 6 at 11. Don't be late," he adds, and it's David's turn to roll his eyes because it's not like he's ever trying to be late to anything. Sometimes it just happens.
"I won't be late, Javi," he promises anyway.
~
When he shows up at Court 6 at five after eleven--five minutes hardly counts, Javi--Tommy seems just as confused as he was yesterday. "You didn't book it?" David asks as they start their usual warm-up.
"No," Tommy confirms. "I didn't know anything about it until Juanqui texted me last night to remind me. And when I accused him of booking it in some sort of misguided..." Tommy trails off even though David would really like to know how he was going to finish that sentence. "Anyway, he proceeded to inform me in no uncertain terms that as the owner..."
"Part-owner," David interrupts, sending another ball to Tommy's backhand.
"Part-owner," Tommy corrects, glaring at David a little, "of this tournament, he had much more important things to think about than my practice schedule. And when I pointed out that he'd gone through the bother of sending me a text about it, he told me he was trying to help out an old friend--you not me--and next time he wouldn't bother."
"Sounds like Juanqui," David agrees. "Well, whoever it was who signed us up together, it worked out okay, no?"
Tommy smiles then, and David's absolutely going to blame the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of it on a hard practice. It doesn't matter that he's barely even breathing hard. By unspoken agreement, halfway through their practice, they both start gathering up the extra tennis balls so they can play a practice set. "Loser buys dinner?" Tommy suggests when they're both near the net.
"You're on," David agrees immediately.
Tommy grins at him then. "You might change your mind when I order the biggest steak on the menu tonight."
"Well, I won't be paying the bill, so you can order whatever you like," David returns, tone snotty.
Tommy laughs. "Your serve or mine?" he asks.
And since David is feeling generous, he lets Tommy serve first.
And ends up paying for it. And dinner.
But it's worth it to see Tommy smile and hear him laugh throughout the entire meal.
~
It's not until he's stuffing his racquets back into his bag after a pretty routine second round match that he notices the wrapper tucked down in the bottom of his bag. It's his favourite sweet, a chocolate-covered caramel. He waits until he's back in the locker room to unwrap it and pop it in his mouth.
The chocolate and caramel melt together. It's perfect, and it's made even better by the fact that Tommy's the only one who could have left it for him.
After he gets back from press, the taste of chocolate still heavy on his tongue, there's a text from Tommy on his phone.
hit again tmrw? is all it says, and David all but jumps at the excuse to spend more time with Tommy.
sure he sends back while several other players hurry around him. Nico is sitting in one corner of the locker room, seemingly lost in his own little world while he waits for his match to start. u want 2 book it?
my turn ;) Tommy replies, and David doesn't even bother correcting the assumption that he booked their practice court yesterday. If Tommy didn't do it, he must have. And it's one less thing about which David needs to worry in a week that seems to contain endless worries.
tell me when u no David sends. i have press stuff tmrw
And that much is completely true. David, Nico, and Feli have all been chosen to participate in the kids' clinic again this year. David's actually looking forward to it. He enjoys playing with the kids, showing them some of the things Javi showed him and trying to make them love tennis the way he loves tennis, the way he's always loved tennis.
early or late? Tommy asks. David doesn't bother to ask if he's talking about the practice time or the kids' clinic.
early David sends back and then stuffs his phone into his bag because Javi has appeared in the doorway, and he's clearly impatient to discuss the match in more detail.
David doesn't get a chance to check his phone for over an hour. By that time, Tommy has sent him a couple of texts. The first is just the time and court number for their hit tomorrow. The second is a single word: rematch?
ur on David sends back while waiting for the car that's going to take them back to the hotel. He's got dinner tonight with Juan Carlos to discuss the clinic and the sponsors and how the tournament's been going generally. David is glad he only needs to approve whatever decisions Juan Carlos makes. Trying to win the tournament is more than enough responsibility for David, at least at this stage in his career.
"Are you listening to me at all?" Javi demands, craning his neck to look for their car.
"Sorry," David mumbles. He can feel the blush rising on his cheeks. "I was trying to figure out what Juanqui could want to talk about. I thought everything with the tournament was already sorted."
Javi pats him on the shoulder consolingly. Thankfully, their car shows up before he's forced to ask Javi to repeat what he was saying.
~
The best thing about dinner with Juan Carlos is that he never expects David to make idle chit-chat. They talk about the tournament and its sponsors (well, mostly Juan Carlos bitches about unreasonable demands and David nods sympathetically while feeling pathetically glad he doesn't have to deal with that shit) and about tennis and about the fellow Spaniards on tour, many of whom have elected to play this week in Valencia. (Not Rafa though. He's off in Basel, and David can't help but feel secretly glad for it.)
"So you've been spending a lot of time with Tommy this week," Juan Carlos states, grinning like the cat that got the proverbial canary.
"Yeah, and I'm still not sure you didn't have something to do with that," David returns, tracing patterns in the condensation on his water glass. Juan Carlos is the only person who actually knows how he feels about Tommy (although he's sure Javi has at least guessed), and that's only because they got drunk one night and David ended up spilling everything to the older man. And Juanqui has never let him forget it either.
"Me?" Juan Carlos replies with exaggerated innocence.
"Yeah, like I believe that," David grumbles. "You're elbows deep in whatever the hell is going on, and don't think I don't know it."
"You're one paranoid bastard, I'll give you that," Juan Carlos returns pleasantly, motioning for the waiter to bring the cheque.
"This one's on me," he adds when David reaches for his wallet. "You can pay me back by winning this week."
"You don't ask for much, do you?" David asks rhetorically. Juan Carlos has always been a demanding bastard.
"Only things I know you can do," Juan Carlos answers anyway, and although his tone is light, David can sense that he's serious. "Also try to stop Feli from killing any of the children tomorrow if at all possible. Oh, and make sure Nico doesn't try and take one of the kids home with him in his bag. That's the last thing we need."
That, at least, startles a laugh out of David.
~
Neither he nor Tommy are really morning people, so an eight o'clock hit is not high on his list of priorities. If it weren't with Tommy, he'd be tempted not to go at all. So it's not until they've finished their practice (thankfully, Tommy now owes him a dinner) that either of them manage to say much beyond curses and the occasional grunt.
"Juanqui knows something," David offers when they're both doing their cool-down stretches. "He was way too smug about it for anything else."
"I knew it," Tommy grumbles. "Being the tournament director has gone to his head, and it was already too big to begin with."
"Well, whatever it is, it's not going to work," David promises. "Juanqui's not as smart as he thinks he is."
Tommy grins back at him, clearly in agreement, and David feels invincible.
~
That feeling of invincibility lasts until he gets to the kid's clinic. Nico and Feli are already there when he arrives. Feli's standing a little to the side, the look on his face a cross between disdainful and terrified. Nico, on the other hand, is already down on his knees, listening to one child narrate a story that involves a lot of racquet waving on both their parts.
The next time Juan Carlos asks him to do something like this for the good of the tournament, David is going to tell right where he can shove it in no uncertain terms. He'll be lucky to make it out of this alive.
~
He makes it out alive, but barely.
He texts Juan Carlos never again and then stuffs his phone back in his pocket and resolutely ignores the answering buzz.
Juan Carlos has never taken well to being ignored. He shows up at David hotel room--Javi had insisted that the hotel would help him get in the right mindset for the tournament--unannounced and won't leave until David lets him in the room.
"If I wanted to talk to you, I would have answered your six SMS messages," David bitches, throwing the door open.
"Yes, well, I thought you might like to come with me to Tommy's match tonight," Juan Carlos responds. His tone is soft and even, but the shit-eating grin on his face says everything he's not.
"You're an asshole," David mutters, but he's already grabbing a sweater and slipping his feet into his shoes. He's out the door before he realizes that Juanqui is not following him.
"Are you coming?" he calls back over his shoulder, resolutely ignoring Juanqui's laughter.
Juan Carlos is about to let the hotel room door close behind himself when he seemingly thinks of something. "You have your wallet?" he calls. "Your key card?"
And then David is forced to endure the indignity of heading back into his room to grab both of those essential items while Juan Carlos does absolutely nothing to hide his smugness when David slinks by him.
To David, it seems to take forever to get to La Cuidad de Las Artes y Las Ciencas, but when they get there, he stays sitting in Juan Carlos's car until the other man raises an eyebrow at him as if to say if you don't get out right now, I'm not above driving you back to the hotel. (Over the years, David has found that Juan Carlos can convey any multitude of things with just his eyebrows.)
He gets out of the car and waits as Juan Carlos is accosted by someone whose face seems only vaguely familiar. David is sure she's involved in the organization of the tournament somehow, but he can't remember her name.
"What? You couldn't find your way to Centre Court without me?" Juan Carlos demands peevishly when he finally extricates himself from the conversation.
"Didn't want to be rude to my host," David replies. Security barely looks at either of their passes as they move through the complex, eventually ending up in one of the tournament's luxury suites.
David heads to one of the unoccupied seats immediately. Tommy is playing Gulbis tonight; it's still on serve in the first.
"You want something to drink?" Juan Carlos calls from back in the suite. David just waves a hand in response.
A moment later, Juan Carlos appears with two glasses of wine. He hands one to David without a word and settles into the empty seat next to David.
It's not until Tommy is facing break point at 5-6 that Juanqui finally breaks his silence.
"Well, this is exciting," he drawls.
"Shut up," David hisses, eyes tracking Tommy's every move as he goes to serve.
"You're adorable," Juan Carlos coos, taking a sip from his glass.
"You're an asshole," David snaps back, never taking his eyes from the court. Tommy manages to save two break points, but he fails to save the third and loses the first set 7-5.
"Fuck," David swears taking a rather large drink from his own glass.
"Fucking adorable," Juan Carlos says, and his tone is far too amused. David would flip him off, but the changeover is over and Gulbis is standing at the line, holding up a ball.
~
By the time the match ends, it's late enough that David should probably be back at the hotel. Instead, he winds his way down to the locker room to find Tommy sitting there with his head down.
"Hey," he greets, settling next to Tommy on the bench. Tommy doesn't respond.
"You played well," David offers, knowing that it won't offer Tommy any comfort even as he says it.
"I lost," Tommy returns, his voice a little hoarse. David hopes he's been shouting and not sobbing because he's really not sure he could take sobs right now.
"Everybody loses," David returns, trying to retain his own composure. "Despite what the press likes to make out, even Rafa loses from time to time."
That drags a small, unwilling laugh out of Tommy.
"You played well," David continues, trying to remember Javi's speeches from his own heartbreaking losses. "You didn't give up. There's nothing more you can ask of yourself."
If the glare Tommy levels at him from behind sodden eyelashes--and fuck, David really didn't need confirmation that Tommy was crying--he finds it just as comforting as David does, which is to say not comforting at all.
"Well, you're not exactly twenty anymore," David returns with a grin, purposefully ignoring the glare. "It's a miracle your leg hasn't already fallen off, really."
"Oh fuck off," Tommy returns, but there's a faint hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
"Why don't I take you out to dinner so we can celebrate your continued existence?" David suggests. "After you finish press, of course."
"Nothing will still be open after I finish press," Tommy protests.
"So come back to my hotel, and we can order room service," David offers.
"Pretty sure I'm supposed to pay," Tommy argues.
David can't help but grin at that. "Don't worry," he promises. "I haven't forgotten, and I definitely intend to collect."
Tommy stares at him then, almost like he's trying to peel apart David's soul, and it's all David can do not to squirm like a small child called onto the carpet under the attention. Clearly, whatever Tommy's looking for, he must find it or not find it, as the case may be.
"Yeah, okay," Tommy agrees. "Wait for me?"
"I'll be here," David agrees, probably with more solemnity than is really necessary.
Juanqui finds him while Tommy is still dealing with the press. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything, just hands David his keys, squeezes his shoulder, and heads back the way he came.
Tommy looks tired when he finally slinks back into the room. David glances at his watch and is surprised to see that only half an hour has passed.
"They didn't have many questions for me," Tommy says, almost like he's reading David's mind. "I'll go and see if there's still a car on site."
David waves Juan Carlos's keys absently. "We have something better," he says. "We have Juanqui's car."
Tommy grins appreciatively. "And what does he owe you that he lent you his car keys?"
"I don't actually know," David admits. "He didn't say anything, just handed me the keys and left."
Tommy raises his eyebrows at that but grabs his bag and precedes David out the door anyway.
David ends up parking Juanqui's car on the street about a block from the hotel. Juan Carlos is going to kill him when he realizes, but David can't even find it in himself to regret it.
They end up ordering more food than either of them can eat, and Tommy starts with dessert. David hides his grin behind a forkful of spaghetti.
"So how was the kids' clinic?" Tommy asks when he finishes his chocolate cake.
"Mother of God," is all David says in return.
"That bad, huh?"
"I spent half the time thinking Feli was going to hit one of the kids with a serve, and the other half the time thinking Nico was going to try and take one of the kids home with him in his racquet bag."
Tommy laughs until he's wheezing and his face is red. "But you managed to survive," he finishes, picking up his own order of spaghetti. "Good job."
David flips him off, and they eat in silence, both too focused on their food to make much in the way of conversation.
"Who do you play tomorrow?" Tommy asks when he finally sets his plate back on the room service cart.
"Raonic," David mumbles, setting his own plate down next to Tommy's. He climbs onto the bed and settles back against the headboard.
"Tough match," Tommy offers after a long moment.
"Yeah," David agrees. "Javi and I have worked up a good plan though, so I'm pretty confident about my chances." He can admit that to Tommy because he knows Tommy won't take it as arrogance.
Tommy hesitates for half a second before he settles on the bed next to David. "You want to watch something on TV, or do you need to go to sleep?" he asks.
David really, really should go to sleep since tomorrow's match promises to be a physical affair. Instead, he grins at Tommy. "No, I can watch something," he mutters, reaching over to the bedside table and palming the remote. "You choose," he continues, handing it over.
Tommy eventually settles on the second half of some movie David remembers only vaguely from the American hard court circuit. Since the film is already half over, he doesn't really try to grasp the plot, instead enjoying the quite frankly ridiculous special effects.
David looks over when the end credits start rolling, and he's not really surprised to see that Tommy's already asleep. It's quite the task to wrestle him under the comforter, but David manages it eventually because he's nothing if not persistent. (No, seriously, according to some tennis commentators, apparently all he has going for him is a dogged persistence, which, fuck them.)
He thinks about it for far longer than should ever be necessary, but eventually he kicks his shorts aside before climbing into bed next to Tommy. It's more than big enough for both of them. Besides, David is paying for this hotel room; he's certainly not going to sleep on the floor, and Tommy's already dead to the world.
~
The hotel room phone wakes him up way too early the next morning, even though the red letters on the bedside alarm clock are proclaiming it's a little after eight. Tommy grumbles sleepily and burrows further into the blankets--most of which he somehow managed to steal in the night--leaving David to answer the phone.
It turns out it's the front desk, phoning to deliver the wake-up call he requested yesterday, and David may be a little more stressed than usual this week, but he knows he didn't request an eight o'clock wake-up call.
Tommy mumbles something that sounds vaguely questioning, so David says, "It was the front desk phoning with a wake-up call."
"Mmmm," Tommy mutters, pulling the blankets even more tightly around himself, creating a cocoon. David's sure he's not getting his blankets back from Tommy, so he drags himself off the bed and into the bathroom and turns the shower on extra hot in an attempt to wake up.
When he exits the bathroom in a cloud of steam, there's a cart of room service waiting.
"You ordered?" he asks Tommy, who was clearly forced to climb out of his blanket cocoon to answer the door for room service.
"No," Tommy grumbles. "I just answered the door. I thought you ordered it."
"In what time?" David asks. "You heard the entire conversation I had with the front desk."
Tommy shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe you arranged it last night or something."
David looks over at the food. There's more than enough for two people, even two professional athletes. "I didn't even know you were going to be coming back to my room, let alone spending the night," David protests. "No way I could arrange for there to be enough food for both of us this morning."
Tommy and David stare at each other for a long moment. "Juanqui," they say simultaneously.
"I'll talk to him," David sighs. "He's being ridiculous."
Tommy shrugs and heads toward the room service cart to see what's been delivered. "It'd be a shame to let all this food go to waste," Tommy says, grabbing an orange slice from the fruit tray.
"And I'm paying for it either way," David agrees, picking up an orange slice of his own and taking a bite. He wipes absently at the juice that ends up running down his chin.
"What?" he demands when it becomes pretty apparent Tommy is staring. "Is there something on my face? Did I miss a spot shaving?"
"No," Tommy mumbles, shaking himself. "No, I'm just not awake yet."
"You can use the shower if you want," David offers. "I think there's one of those complimentary toothbrushes in the bathroom."
Tommy smiles at him in reply and heads to the bathroom without saying another word. A moment later, David hears the shower turn on.
David turns his attention back to the room service cart, pours himself a cup of coffee, and slathers a piece of toast with jam.
Tommy spends maybe ten minutes in the bathroom, but by the time he exits, David is already on his second cup of coffee.
They eat in silence because that's easiest. David can't help but feel a little bit weird having Tommy eating breakfast in his hotel room like a lover when they're not together but he desperately wants to be.
"Good luck today," Tommy says, settling his empty plate back on the room service cart. "Not that I think you need it."
"Thanks," David mumbles, looking down at his own plate to avoid meeting Tommy's eyes. "I'll try my best."
"You always do," Tommy agrees, his tone fond.
"You heading home today?" David asks because Tommy hasn't said if he's staying in town or heading back up to Barcelona.
"Haven't decided yet," Tommy mumbles. "I was thinking about heading to Paris, but I don't want to be the first one there." And that's fair because it really kind of sucks being the first player to any tournament, having to scour the local tennis clubs for talent with whom you can hit until everyone else shows up.
And it's a chance, but the words just seem to bubble up and out before David can control them. "You can stay here if you want," he offers. "Well, not here in this hotel room, but I can give you the keys to my place, and I'm sure you'll be able to find hitting partners here."
Tommy smiles at him then, warm and open. "I might take you up on that," he says. "But I should probably go before Javi shows up."
"Are you scared of my coach?" David asks, confused. Javi has always been like a father to him, so the fact that Tommy might actually be afraid of him is both strange and amusing.
"Ferru, I don't know if you've noticed, but Javi can be scary as fuck," Tommy returns, completely serious.
"Well, that's good to know," Javi announces from where he's standing in the door. "Tommy," he greets.
In that moment, David would completely understand if anyone mistook Tommy for a tomato, he's that red. "Javi," Tommy returns, getting up from his place. "I was just heading out."
"Well, don't let us keep you," Javi replies, and David knows that the look in his coach's eyes means he's going to be treated to a lecture on responsibility just as soon as the door clicks shut behind Tommy.
It seems to physically pain Javi to wait until Tommy is gone, but he manages it. "Are you crazy? You have a match today, you know?" he asks as soon as the door locks behind Tommy.
"I know," David agrees because he does know. He's the one who has to play the damn match, after all. "Raonic, first night match," he adds.
"Fine, smartass," Javi growls. "Then I don't have to tell you how you need to focus on your tennis or how adding distractions won't help your game since you already know all this. And I don't need to tell you that whatever you have going on with Tommy is a very big distraction you don't need right now. I don't need to tell you any of this, and yet I'm saying it anyway. Why is that, Ferru?"
David shrugs. "I think that's a question you'll have to answer for yourself," he says, taking a second to rearrange the dishes on the room service cart. "Besides, Tommy fell asleep here after his match. That's all."
The look Javi gives him says that his coach clearly doesn't believe David but isn't in the mood to argue about it. "Fine, Ferru," he grumbles. "I've been watching tape of Raonic's matches and talking to Galo about his tendencies. His biggest strength is his serve, of course, but you've faced big servers before. His movement..."
And that's about the time David tunes Javi out. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the copious amount of work Javi does to prepare for each match, but he's heard it all before, and it's not the first time he's played Milos.
~
The match is just as difficult as David thought it would be, but he manages to pull it out 6-3 in the third. He looks over at his box several times, but even though Juan Carlos is there, trying his best not to look bored, Tommy is nowhere to be seen.
David tries to tell himself it doesn't matter, reminds himself that Tommy never said he was going to come, never said for sure he was even going to stay in Valencia.
He nods at Nico, who's waiting to take the court against Marcel, drops his bag on the bench, and heads for the shower without a backward glance.
He leaves his bag in the locker room when he goes to do press, although he does make sure it's zipped up. He doesn't think anyone will take anything--access to the players' locker room is very strictly controlled, after all--but it's better not to take any chances. He does take the extra half-second to pocket his phone, however. He won't even be close to the first player to head into the press room with a phone, and he certainly won't be the last.
The press ask the same questions they always ask, and David answers them with the same answers he always uses, and he's done in twenty minutes.
When he makes it back to the locker room, one of the zippers on his bag is unzipped about 3 cm. Ferru knows he left every zipper completely zipped up.
As soon as he unzips the zipper, a small stuffed lion falls out. Around its neck is a note, the handwriting painfully familiar, although David can't place from where he knows it at the moment. A king for a king is all it says. The note isn't signed.
And then Tommy is there, eyeing the lion David's still holding dumbly with a cross between confusion and suspicion. "How'd you get that?" he asks after a second.
Davis shrugs. "It was in my bag when I got back from press," he explains, handing it over. Tommy barely looks at it before handing it back, which is strange. "I should probably talk to security to make sure fans aren't sneaking into the locker room," he adds, making a mental note to do just that.
"I don't think you have to worry about that," Tommy says, his voice suspiciously quiet. "So, I still owe you dinner..."
"Sure," David agrees, pulling out his phone to text Javi so his coach doesn't send out a search party or do something equally dramatic, like phoning David's mom. "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise," Tommy says, digging in his pocket for his car keys. "But what you're wearing is fine. Are you ready to go, or do you still have more press to do?"
"No, I'm done," David says, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "I'm all yours."
It's only after the words come out of his mouth that David realizes he might have conveyed too much of what he's thinking and feeling.
"All right then," Tommy says, and his tone is a little off. "If we go now, we'll actually be on time for our reservation."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," David teases. "Your expectations seem unreasonably high."
Tommy laughs at that and jangles his car keys once again.
~
The restaurant to which Tommy pulls up is one of those places famous amongst the locals and mostly ignored by the tourists, which suits David just fine. (It's also one of David's favourite restaurants to visit when he's home, but there's no way Tommy could possibly know that.) There's no valet service, so Tommy parks his car down the street, and they walk to the restaurant.
Tommy gives the maitre d' his name, and in a matter of seconds, they're being led to a table in the back corner.
"Have you ever been here before?" Tommy asks. "Juanqui said this place had good food."
"You asked Juanqui?" David mumbles, surprised even though he shouldn't be.
"Yeah," Tommy agrees, and even in the dim lighting, David can see that he's blushing. "So I'm kind of hoping he didn't lie to me."
David opens his mouth to defend Juanqui, but it's exactly the sort of dick thing Juanqui would do and find hilarious, so he closes his mouth again without saying anything. If his laugh is anything to go by, Tommy knows exactly what was about to happen.
"But no, this is a good place," David promises. "I've been here before."
Their waiter is there before Tommy can say anything else. They both order wine, and Tommy gets pasta while David orders the paella because the paella at this restaurant is almost as good as his mother's, and he doesn't get to have either all that often.
"So, either Nico or Marci tomorrow," Tommy begins when their wine shows up. "At least you know both of their tendencies. You should; you've played with and against both of them enough."
"Yeah," David agrees, staring down at his wine. "But I've just got to go out there and play my game. I can't spend too much time thinking about how the guy across the net from me is a friend of mine. I just have to play my game and block everything else out."
"I'm not the press, you know," Tommy replies after a second's hesitation. "I know better than anyone that there are no friends on the tennis court."
David can't help but blush at the rebuke. He picks up one of the rolls in the basket and starts shredding it absently. "Sorry," he mumbles. "Sometimes, I think it just happens without me thinking about it. I'm so used to the questions that I just answer them before I think, you know? Sorry."
Tommy laughs at that, and then their main courses arrive so it's mostly silence for the first few minutes while they turn their attention to their food. The paella is just as good as David remembers it being. "How's your linguine?" he asks after a moment, setting his fork down to pick up his wine glass.
"Really good," Tommy enthuses. "I'll have to remember the name of this place for the next time I'm in Valencia."
"Well, hopefully you'll have the chance to come back before the tournament next year," David says, and then bites his tongue because that was most definitely too forward.
"I'm sure I can think of something," Tommy promises, and David tries not to read too much into that. Valencia isn't that far from Barcelona; there are a ton of reasons Tommy might visit Valencia, and most of them have nothing to do with David. "This linguine alone would be worth the trip."
This time, David bites his tongue until he tastes blood to prevent himself from asking what other reasons there might be.
"You played well today," Tommy says after a moment's silence.
"You were there?" David asks. "I didn't see you in the box."
Tommy smiles at him. "No, I bought a ticket and sat in the stands," he admits. "It's been a while since I just sat in the stands with the fans."
"And?" David presses. "What did you see?"
Tommy shrugs. "I'm sure Javi will tell you that you stayed calm and managed to get into a lot of rallies with him. You managed to..." here Tommy pauses as if searching for the right word, "minimize the potency of his serve, I guess. You played a really solid, smart match, and you won." Tommy smiles at that. "Although there were a couple of tense moments along the way."
David grins at that. "Yeah, well, life's better with a little excitement."
Tommy laughs a little. "Guaranteed your fans don't think that way, Ferru."
"Oh yeah?" David teases.
"Yeah," Tommy agrees, and he sounds completely serious, far too serious for it to be a joke. Then, just like that, Tommy turns his attention back to his food. David turns back to his own food somewhat gratefully because he's not quite sure what to say in response to that.
"When are you leaving for Paris?" David asks absently, when he pushes his plate away.
Tommy shrugs. "Depends," he says, but he doesn't explain on what it depends. "Sunday sometime, probably." He smiles a little. "After all, I won't have a first round bye like some hotshots I know."
David laughs at that. "Sometimes the byes aren't all that helpful," he returns. "Especially if you're coming up against someone on a hot streak."
"Watch out then," Tommy teases. "I'm coming for you, Ferru."
David can't help but grin at that. "I'll be waiting, Tommy," he promises. "I'll be waiting."
~
David ends up playing Marcel in the semi, and he makes a point of not looking at either of their boxes, just in case Tommy is sitting with Marcel's team because if that's the case, David doesn't really want to know.
In the end, it's a pretty routine match for him; he wins 3 and 4 and gives Marcel a consolatory pat on the back when they meet at the net.
When he gets a chance to check his phone, he has a text from Tommy. gud job it reads.
thx he sends back. u comin 2morow? he adds after a second, made brave by the adrenaline of the win. As soon as he sends the text, however, he wants to have it back.
He stuffs his phone back into his bag so he doesn't check it ten thousand times to see if Tommy has answered yet or not, and then Javi is there, going over the match in great detail and talking about what he did well and on what he needs to improve. Just like always.
And then his parents want to go to dinner, and David never did learn quite how to say no to his mother. Apparently, today is not the day he finally learns either because he's sitting at his mother's kitchen table when he finally gets a chance to check his phone.
wudnt miss it Tommy has sent back. David can't help but smiling stupidly for the rest of the night. Thankfully, neither his parents nor his brother call him on it.
~
When he was little, David had imagined he'd get used to the nerves of playing in a final. Despite all the intervening years and matches, however, the nervous feeling hasn't lessened at all, most especially when he's playing at home. He knows without looking that Juanqui, Javi, and his parents are all sitting together in his players' box. If Tommy came like he said he was going to, he should be sitting with them. If he hasn't come, well, David doesn't really want to know.
The chair goes over the instructions for the match, they take a couple of photos, and then it's down to business. Fabio wins the coin toss and elects to receive. The first couple games are slow. David avoids being broken on his first service game but also isn't able to break Fabio, despite having a couple of break points. His second service game goes more smoothly, and he holds at 15.
They go into the first changeover on serve, and David chances to look up at his box. His parents both look nervous, even though they've attended literally hundreds of matches over the course of his career; Juanqui looks bored; and Javi is staring down at the court intently, almost as if he's trying to convey some strategy to David with only the power of his mind. Sitting between Juanqui and Javi, looking a little out of place and uncomfortable, is Tommy.
David looks away quickly, just in case something on his face gives him away.
He breaks Fabio in the Italian's next service game and holds his own service game at love.
He breaks Fabio once more when he's serving for the set and ends up taking it 6-2. When he gets back to his chair, he can't help but glance up at his box. Juanqui still looks bored, but his parents look a lot less anxious. Javi's facial expression hasn't changed at all; he's still staring intently at the court like it has the answer to all the world's secrets. David finds his eyes drawn to the other man in his box, however, and that's where he finds his eyes lingering. Tommy looks more at ease now, leaning back in his seat and exchanging the occasional word with David's brother.
David spends so much of the changeover contemplating how comfortable they all look together that he's not prepared for the aggression with which Fabio starts the second set, and he drops serve immediately.
It sure as fuck brings all of his attention back to what's happening on court, however. Fabio holds his own serve despite David's best efforts, and David manages to hold his own serve going into the changeover.
"Just focus," David mumbles to his racquet, fiddling with the grip, after he's sat down in his chair and taken a long drink from his water bottle. "You can do this."
He breaks Fabio on the Italian's next service game and then holds, which means he's back on track. Resolutely, he keeps his eyes on the ground right in front of his chair during the changeover and doesn't let himself think of anything but the next point, the next game.
Fabio doesn't have a very good service game when the changeover ends--he serves two double faults--and David manages to take advantage of that fact and break again.
Fabio pushes him hard when David steps up to the line to serve, but David manages to save three break points and hold. And then he's only a game away from the title; David forces himself not to think about that, however. Instead, he focuses on what he has to do to win.
Everything else can come later.
It'll have to.
~
David doesn't break Fabio on the Italian's next service game, but he does manage to hold his own serve, and that's all he needs to win.
Juan Carlos grins at him and cracks a joke about David being able to keep this one when he hands over the trophy, and David has never been so glad to be handed a trophy in his life, and not only because Juan Carlos is handing it to him.
He doesn't really remember all that much of his victory speech, but he's pretty sure he thanks Fabio for playing a good match, the event organizers, the ball kids, Javi, and his family and friends for their support.
After that, there's press, which seems to take three times as long as usual, and then he's back in the locker room and Juanqui and his parents are there. And Tommy.
His parents make it to him first, telling him how proud of him they are. David hugs them back and lets himself bask in the warmth of their love and their pride.
Javi claps him on the back with a grin and then steps back. David knows they'll talk about the match later, maybe on the way to Paris, but that's for later. Now is a time for celebration.
And then Tommy is there, and David can't really stop himself from grabbing the other man and kissing him. It's only when he pulls back that he starts worrying about Tommy's reaction.
Before Tommy can say anything though, Juan Carlos declares, "Fucking finally. It was beginning to look like we were going to have to take more drastic measures."
"Excuse me?" David demands indignantly while his parents laugh.
Juan Carlos isn't the least bit put off by David's indignation. In fact, if anything, he seems amused by it. "And it was really quite a bit of work," he continues. "I wish I could claim it was my idea, but I do like to think I added my own personal touches."
And David would really, really like to continue kissing Tommy, but he needs to know what Juanqui is talking about. "What?" he demands while Tommy laughs against his neck.
"That practice time neither of you remembered signing up for? That's because neither of you actually signed up for it. The chocolates and the plush in Ferru's bag? And the Valencia oranges tucked into Tommy's?" he continues, obviously pleased with himself. "You were both unexpectedly helpful with all those dinners you arranged though."
"You said you didn't know anything about that!" David replies indignantly.
"I didn't at the time. Just because I didn't tell you anything about it when Nico told me what he'd done doesn't mean I knew the whole time."
"And you didn't say anything when you found out?" David demands, making a mental note to take it up with Nico the next time he sees the murciano.
Juan Carlos actually rolls his eyes at that. "And lose all the fun of watching you two dance around each other? I think not."
David narrows his eyes at Juan Carlos.
"I can't believe it worked," Juan Carlos continues. "Nico said it would, but I was sure you were both too stubborn to see what was right in front of your faces. Literally right in front of your faces."
David's still coming up with half a dozen threats when Tommy speaks. "Well, I guess we owe both you and Nico thanks for finally pushing us together," he says.
Juan Carlos actually seems speechless for a change. "Well, good," he finally mumbles. "I'll just let you get back to it then," he finishes lamely.
It's only then that David realizes his parents and Javi have already disappeared.
"I'm going to make his life miserable," David mumbles as soon as he's alone with Tommy.
"Oh, I'm with you," Tommy agrees. "I just don't want him having time to prepare his defences."
"Smart," David agrees because it is. Juan Carlos may be pretending to be above locker room pranks now that he's retired and the director of a tournament and everything, but David knows better.
Tommy grins down at him then, and David allows himself to be momentarily distracted from plotting revenge, pulling Tommy down into another kiss.
He just won the fucking tournament, after all. Everything else can wait five more minutes.
fin.
Notes
1. This fic was started before Tommy Robredo injured his wrist in Shanghai, effectively ending his season before Valencia. Thus, it exists in a sort of alternate world where Robredo is still healthy and plays. The draw and the results, like everything else about this fic, are purely fictional. Also, while it doesn't affect this fic at all, it should be noted that Rafael Nadal ended up pulling out of Basel.
2. While this fic was originally meant to showcase Nico's secret matchmaking talent, it ended up being more about David's (and Tommy's) secret talent of being ridiculously oblivious. And Juan Carlos's not-so-secret talent of being a smug asshole.
3. Title and cutline from the song "When the Right One Comes Along (feat. clare Bowen &Sam Palladio)" off The Music of Nashville.
by almitablanca
~
"You've signed up to hit with Tommy tomorrow," Javi tells him when David finally gets free of the vultures who make up the press after his first round victory in Valencia. (And it may just be his imagination, but the vultures seem particularly vicious whenever he's playing at home, like they're just waiting for him to slip up. It's even worse now that Juan Carlos is no longer around to distract them.)
"Are you sure?" he asks because he certainly doesn't remember signing up to hit with anyone tomorrow. Of course, he's promised so many people so many things in the past week, he can't keep them straight anymore. And signing up to hit with Tommy sounds like something he would do, so...
Javi rolls his eyes at that just like David knew he would. "Yes, I'm sure. Court 6 at 11. Don't be late," he adds, and it's David's turn to roll his eyes because it's not like he's ever trying to be late to anything. Sometimes it just happens.
"I won't be late, Javi," he promises anyway.
~
When he shows up at Court 6 at five after eleven--five minutes hardly counts, Javi--Tommy seems just as confused as he was yesterday. "You didn't book it?" David asks as they start their usual warm-up.
"No," Tommy confirms. "I didn't know anything about it until Juanqui texted me last night to remind me. And when I accused him of booking it in some sort of misguided..." Tommy trails off even though David would really like to know how he was going to finish that sentence. "Anyway, he proceeded to inform me in no uncertain terms that as the owner..."
"Part-owner," David interrupts, sending another ball to Tommy's backhand.
"Part-owner," Tommy corrects, glaring at David a little, "of this tournament, he had much more important things to think about than my practice schedule. And when I pointed out that he'd gone through the bother of sending me a text about it, he told me he was trying to help out an old friend--you not me--and next time he wouldn't bother."
"Sounds like Juanqui," David agrees. "Well, whoever it was who signed us up together, it worked out okay, no?"
Tommy smiles then, and David's absolutely going to blame the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of it on a hard practice. It doesn't matter that he's barely even breathing hard. By unspoken agreement, halfway through their practice, they both start gathering up the extra tennis balls so they can play a practice set. "Loser buys dinner?" Tommy suggests when they're both near the net.
"You're on," David agrees immediately.
Tommy grins at him then. "You might change your mind when I order the biggest steak on the menu tonight."
"Well, I won't be paying the bill, so you can order whatever you like," David returns, tone snotty.
Tommy laughs. "Your serve or mine?" he asks.
And since David is feeling generous, he lets Tommy serve first.
And ends up paying for it. And dinner.
But it's worth it to see Tommy smile and hear him laugh throughout the entire meal.
~
It's not until he's stuffing his racquets back into his bag after a pretty routine second round match that he notices the wrapper tucked down in the bottom of his bag. It's his favourite sweet, a chocolate-covered caramel. He waits until he's back in the locker room to unwrap it and pop it in his mouth.
The chocolate and caramel melt together. It's perfect, and it's made even better by the fact that Tommy's the only one who could have left it for him.
After he gets back from press, the taste of chocolate still heavy on his tongue, there's a text from Tommy on his phone.
hit again tmrw? is all it says, and David all but jumps at the excuse to spend more time with Tommy.
sure he sends back while several other players hurry around him. Nico is sitting in one corner of the locker room, seemingly lost in his own little world while he waits for his match to start. u want 2 book it?
my turn ;) Tommy replies, and David doesn't even bother correcting the assumption that he booked their practice court yesterday. If Tommy didn't do it, he must have. And it's one less thing about which David needs to worry in a week that seems to contain endless worries.
tell me when u no David sends. i have press stuff tmrw
And that much is completely true. David, Nico, and Feli have all been chosen to participate in the kids' clinic again this year. David's actually looking forward to it. He enjoys playing with the kids, showing them some of the things Javi showed him and trying to make them love tennis the way he loves tennis, the way he's always loved tennis.
early or late? Tommy asks. David doesn't bother to ask if he's talking about the practice time or the kids' clinic.
early David sends back and then stuffs his phone into his bag because Javi has appeared in the doorway, and he's clearly impatient to discuss the match in more detail.
David doesn't get a chance to check his phone for over an hour. By that time, Tommy has sent him a couple of texts. The first is just the time and court number for their hit tomorrow. The second is a single word: rematch?
ur on David sends back while waiting for the car that's going to take them back to the hotel. He's got dinner tonight with Juan Carlos to discuss the clinic and the sponsors and how the tournament's been going generally. David is glad he only needs to approve whatever decisions Juan Carlos makes. Trying to win the tournament is more than enough responsibility for David, at least at this stage in his career.
"Are you listening to me at all?" Javi demands, craning his neck to look for their car.
"Sorry," David mumbles. He can feel the blush rising on his cheeks. "I was trying to figure out what Juanqui could want to talk about. I thought everything with the tournament was already sorted."
Javi pats him on the shoulder consolingly. Thankfully, their car shows up before he's forced to ask Javi to repeat what he was saying.
~
The best thing about dinner with Juan Carlos is that he never expects David to make idle chit-chat. They talk about the tournament and its sponsors (well, mostly Juan Carlos bitches about unreasonable demands and David nods sympathetically while feeling pathetically glad he doesn't have to deal with that shit) and about tennis and about the fellow Spaniards on tour, many of whom have elected to play this week in Valencia. (Not Rafa though. He's off in Basel, and David can't help but feel secretly glad for it.)
"So you've been spending a lot of time with Tommy this week," Juan Carlos states, grinning like the cat that got the proverbial canary.
"Yeah, and I'm still not sure you didn't have something to do with that," David returns, tracing patterns in the condensation on his water glass. Juan Carlos is the only person who actually knows how he feels about Tommy (although he's sure Javi has at least guessed), and that's only because they got drunk one night and David ended up spilling everything to the older man. And Juanqui has never let him forget it either.
"Me?" Juan Carlos replies with exaggerated innocence.
"Yeah, like I believe that," David grumbles. "You're elbows deep in whatever the hell is going on, and don't think I don't know it."
"You're one paranoid bastard, I'll give you that," Juan Carlos returns pleasantly, motioning for the waiter to bring the cheque.
"This one's on me," he adds when David reaches for his wallet. "You can pay me back by winning this week."
"You don't ask for much, do you?" David asks rhetorically. Juan Carlos has always been a demanding bastard.
"Only things I know you can do," Juan Carlos answers anyway, and although his tone is light, David can sense that he's serious. "Also try to stop Feli from killing any of the children tomorrow if at all possible. Oh, and make sure Nico doesn't try and take one of the kids home with him in his bag. That's the last thing we need."
That, at least, startles a laugh out of David.
~
Neither he nor Tommy are really morning people, so an eight o'clock hit is not high on his list of priorities. If it weren't with Tommy, he'd be tempted not to go at all. So it's not until they've finished their practice (thankfully, Tommy now owes him a dinner) that either of them manage to say much beyond curses and the occasional grunt.
"Juanqui knows something," David offers when they're both doing their cool-down stretches. "He was way too smug about it for anything else."
"I knew it," Tommy grumbles. "Being the tournament director has gone to his head, and it was already too big to begin with."
"Well, whatever it is, it's not going to work," David promises. "Juanqui's not as smart as he thinks he is."
Tommy grins back at him, clearly in agreement, and David feels invincible.
~
That feeling of invincibility lasts until he gets to the kid's clinic. Nico and Feli are already there when he arrives. Feli's standing a little to the side, the look on his face a cross between disdainful and terrified. Nico, on the other hand, is already down on his knees, listening to one child narrate a story that involves a lot of racquet waving on both their parts.
The next time Juan Carlos asks him to do something like this for the good of the tournament, David is going to tell right where he can shove it in no uncertain terms. He'll be lucky to make it out of this alive.
~
He makes it out alive, but barely.
He texts Juan Carlos never again and then stuffs his phone back in his pocket and resolutely ignores the answering buzz.
Juan Carlos has never taken well to being ignored. He shows up at David hotel room--Javi had insisted that the hotel would help him get in the right mindset for the tournament--unannounced and won't leave until David lets him in the room.
"If I wanted to talk to you, I would have answered your six SMS messages," David bitches, throwing the door open.
"Yes, well, I thought you might like to come with me to Tommy's match tonight," Juan Carlos responds. His tone is soft and even, but the shit-eating grin on his face says everything he's not.
"You're an asshole," David mutters, but he's already grabbing a sweater and slipping his feet into his shoes. He's out the door before he realizes that Juanqui is not following him.
"Are you coming?" he calls back over his shoulder, resolutely ignoring Juanqui's laughter.
Juan Carlos is about to let the hotel room door close behind himself when he seemingly thinks of something. "You have your wallet?" he calls. "Your key card?"
And then David is forced to endure the indignity of heading back into his room to grab both of those essential items while Juan Carlos does absolutely nothing to hide his smugness when David slinks by him.
To David, it seems to take forever to get to La Cuidad de Las Artes y Las Ciencas, but when they get there, he stays sitting in Juan Carlos's car until the other man raises an eyebrow at him as if to say if you don't get out right now, I'm not above driving you back to the hotel. (Over the years, David has found that Juan Carlos can convey any multitude of things with just his eyebrows.)
He gets out of the car and waits as Juan Carlos is accosted by someone whose face seems only vaguely familiar. David is sure she's involved in the organization of the tournament somehow, but he can't remember her name.
"What? You couldn't find your way to Centre Court without me?" Juan Carlos demands peevishly when he finally extricates himself from the conversation.
"Didn't want to be rude to my host," David replies. Security barely looks at either of their passes as they move through the complex, eventually ending up in one of the tournament's luxury suites.
David heads to one of the unoccupied seats immediately. Tommy is playing Gulbis tonight; it's still on serve in the first.
"You want something to drink?" Juan Carlos calls from back in the suite. David just waves a hand in response.
A moment later, Juan Carlos appears with two glasses of wine. He hands one to David without a word and settles into the empty seat next to David.
It's not until Tommy is facing break point at 5-6 that Juanqui finally breaks his silence.
"Well, this is exciting," he drawls.
"Shut up," David hisses, eyes tracking Tommy's every move as he goes to serve.
"You're adorable," Juan Carlos coos, taking a sip from his glass.
"You're an asshole," David snaps back, never taking his eyes from the court. Tommy manages to save two break points, but he fails to save the third and loses the first set 7-5.
"Fuck," David swears taking a rather large drink from his own glass.
"Fucking adorable," Juan Carlos says, and his tone is far too amused. David would flip him off, but the changeover is over and Gulbis is standing at the line, holding up a ball.
~
By the time the match ends, it's late enough that David should probably be back at the hotel. Instead, he winds his way down to the locker room to find Tommy sitting there with his head down.
"Hey," he greets, settling next to Tommy on the bench. Tommy doesn't respond.
"You played well," David offers, knowing that it won't offer Tommy any comfort even as he says it.
"I lost," Tommy returns, his voice a little hoarse. David hopes he's been shouting and not sobbing because he's really not sure he could take sobs right now.
"Everybody loses," David returns, trying to retain his own composure. "Despite what the press likes to make out, even Rafa loses from time to time."
That drags a small, unwilling laugh out of Tommy.
"You played well," David continues, trying to remember Javi's speeches from his own heartbreaking losses. "You didn't give up. There's nothing more you can ask of yourself."
If the glare Tommy levels at him from behind sodden eyelashes--and fuck, David really didn't need confirmation that Tommy was crying--he finds it just as comforting as David does, which is to say not comforting at all.
"Well, you're not exactly twenty anymore," David returns with a grin, purposefully ignoring the glare. "It's a miracle your leg hasn't already fallen off, really."
"Oh fuck off," Tommy returns, but there's a faint hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
"Why don't I take you out to dinner so we can celebrate your continued existence?" David suggests. "After you finish press, of course."
"Nothing will still be open after I finish press," Tommy protests.
"So come back to my hotel, and we can order room service," David offers.
"Pretty sure I'm supposed to pay," Tommy argues.
David can't help but grin at that. "Don't worry," he promises. "I haven't forgotten, and I definitely intend to collect."
Tommy stares at him then, almost like he's trying to peel apart David's soul, and it's all David can do not to squirm like a small child called onto the carpet under the attention. Clearly, whatever Tommy's looking for, he must find it or not find it, as the case may be.
"Yeah, okay," Tommy agrees. "Wait for me?"
"I'll be here," David agrees, probably with more solemnity than is really necessary.
Juanqui finds him while Tommy is still dealing with the press. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything, just hands David his keys, squeezes his shoulder, and heads back the way he came.
Tommy looks tired when he finally slinks back into the room. David glances at his watch and is surprised to see that only half an hour has passed.
"They didn't have many questions for me," Tommy says, almost like he's reading David's mind. "I'll go and see if there's still a car on site."
David waves Juan Carlos's keys absently. "We have something better," he says. "We have Juanqui's car."
Tommy grins appreciatively. "And what does he owe you that he lent you his car keys?"
"I don't actually know," David admits. "He didn't say anything, just handed me the keys and left."
Tommy raises his eyebrows at that but grabs his bag and precedes David out the door anyway.
David ends up parking Juanqui's car on the street about a block from the hotel. Juan Carlos is going to kill him when he realizes, but David can't even find it in himself to regret it.
They end up ordering more food than either of them can eat, and Tommy starts with dessert. David hides his grin behind a forkful of spaghetti.
"So how was the kids' clinic?" Tommy asks when he finishes his chocolate cake.
"Mother of God," is all David says in return.
"That bad, huh?"
"I spent half the time thinking Feli was going to hit one of the kids with a serve, and the other half the time thinking Nico was going to try and take one of the kids home with him in his racquet bag."
Tommy laughs until he's wheezing and his face is red. "But you managed to survive," he finishes, picking up his own order of spaghetti. "Good job."
David flips him off, and they eat in silence, both too focused on their food to make much in the way of conversation.
"Who do you play tomorrow?" Tommy asks when he finally sets his plate back on the room service cart.
"Raonic," David mumbles, setting his own plate down next to Tommy's. He climbs onto the bed and settles back against the headboard.
"Tough match," Tommy offers after a long moment.
"Yeah," David agrees. "Javi and I have worked up a good plan though, so I'm pretty confident about my chances." He can admit that to Tommy because he knows Tommy won't take it as arrogance.
Tommy hesitates for half a second before he settles on the bed next to David. "You want to watch something on TV, or do you need to go to sleep?" he asks.
David really, really should go to sleep since tomorrow's match promises to be a physical affair. Instead, he grins at Tommy. "No, I can watch something," he mutters, reaching over to the bedside table and palming the remote. "You choose," he continues, handing it over.
Tommy eventually settles on the second half of some movie David remembers only vaguely from the American hard court circuit. Since the film is already half over, he doesn't really try to grasp the plot, instead enjoying the quite frankly ridiculous special effects.
David looks over when the end credits start rolling, and he's not really surprised to see that Tommy's already asleep. It's quite the task to wrestle him under the comforter, but David manages it eventually because he's nothing if not persistent. (No, seriously, according to some tennis commentators, apparently all he has going for him is a dogged persistence, which, fuck them.)
He thinks about it for far longer than should ever be necessary, but eventually he kicks his shorts aside before climbing into bed next to Tommy. It's more than big enough for both of them. Besides, David is paying for this hotel room; he's certainly not going to sleep on the floor, and Tommy's already dead to the world.
~
The hotel room phone wakes him up way too early the next morning, even though the red letters on the bedside alarm clock are proclaiming it's a little after eight. Tommy grumbles sleepily and burrows further into the blankets--most of which he somehow managed to steal in the night--leaving David to answer the phone.
It turns out it's the front desk, phoning to deliver the wake-up call he requested yesterday, and David may be a little more stressed than usual this week, but he knows he didn't request an eight o'clock wake-up call.
Tommy mumbles something that sounds vaguely questioning, so David says, "It was the front desk phoning with a wake-up call."
"Mmmm," Tommy mutters, pulling the blankets even more tightly around himself, creating a cocoon. David's sure he's not getting his blankets back from Tommy, so he drags himself off the bed and into the bathroom and turns the shower on extra hot in an attempt to wake up.
When he exits the bathroom in a cloud of steam, there's a cart of room service waiting.
"You ordered?" he asks Tommy, who was clearly forced to climb out of his blanket cocoon to answer the door for room service.
"No," Tommy grumbles. "I just answered the door. I thought you ordered it."
"In what time?" David asks. "You heard the entire conversation I had with the front desk."
Tommy shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe you arranged it last night or something."
David looks over at the food. There's more than enough for two people, even two professional athletes. "I didn't even know you were going to be coming back to my room, let alone spending the night," David protests. "No way I could arrange for there to be enough food for both of us this morning."
Tommy and David stare at each other for a long moment. "Juanqui," they say simultaneously.
"I'll talk to him," David sighs. "He's being ridiculous."
Tommy shrugs and heads toward the room service cart to see what's been delivered. "It'd be a shame to let all this food go to waste," Tommy says, grabbing an orange slice from the fruit tray.
"And I'm paying for it either way," David agrees, picking up an orange slice of his own and taking a bite. He wipes absently at the juice that ends up running down his chin.
"What?" he demands when it becomes pretty apparent Tommy is staring. "Is there something on my face? Did I miss a spot shaving?"
"No," Tommy mumbles, shaking himself. "No, I'm just not awake yet."
"You can use the shower if you want," David offers. "I think there's one of those complimentary toothbrushes in the bathroom."
Tommy smiles at him in reply and heads to the bathroom without saying another word. A moment later, David hears the shower turn on.
David turns his attention back to the room service cart, pours himself a cup of coffee, and slathers a piece of toast with jam.
Tommy spends maybe ten minutes in the bathroom, but by the time he exits, David is already on his second cup of coffee.
They eat in silence because that's easiest. David can't help but feel a little bit weird having Tommy eating breakfast in his hotel room like a lover when they're not together but he desperately wants to be.
"Good luck today," Tommy says, settling his empty plate back on the room service cart. "Not that I think you need it."
"Thanks," David mumbles, looking down at his own plate to avoid meeting Tommy's eyes. "I'll try my best."
"You always do," Tommy agrees, his tone fond.
"You heading home today?" David asks because Tommy hasn't said if he's staying in town or heading back up to Barcelona.
"Haven't decided yet," Tommy mumbles. "I was thinking about heading to Paris, but I don't want to be the first one there." And that's fair because it really kind of sucks being the first player to any tournament, having to scour the local tennis clubs for talent with whom you can hit until everyone else shows up.
And it's a chance, but the words just seem to bubble up and out before David can control them. "You can stay here if you want," he offers. "Well, not here in this hotel room, but I can give you the keys to my place, and I'm sure you'll be able to find hitting partners here."
Tommy smiles at him then, warm and open. "I might take you up on that," he says. "But I should probably go before Javi shows up."
"Are you scared of my coach?" David asks, confused. Javi has always been like a father to him, so the fact that Tommy might actually be afraid of him is both strange and amusing.
"Ferru, I don't know if you've noticed, but Javi can be scary as fuck," Tommy returns, completely serious.
"Well, that's good to know," Javi announces from where he's standing in the door. "Tommy," he greets.
In that moment, David would completely understand if anyone mistook Tommy for a tomato, he's that red. "Javi," Tommy returns, getting up from his place. "I was just heading out."
"Well, don't let us keep you," Javi replies, and David knows that the look in his coach's eyes means he's going to be treated to a lecture on responsibility just as soon as the door clicks shut behind Tommy.
It seems to physically pain Javi to wait until Tommy is gone, but he manages it. "Are you crazy? You have a match today, you know?" he asks as soon as the door locks behind Tommy.
"I know," David agrees because he does know. He's the one who has to play the damn match, after all. "Raonic, first night match," he adds.
"Fine, smartass," Javi growls. "Then I don't have to tell you how you need to focus on your tennis or how adding distractions won't help your game since you already know all this. And I don't need to tell you that whatever you have going on with Tommy is a very big distraction you don't need right now. I don't need to tell you any of this, and yet I'm saying it anyway. Why is that, Ferru?"
David shrugs. "I think that's a question you'll have to answer for yourself," he says, taking a second to rearrange the dishes on the room service cart. "Besides, Tommy fell asleep here after his match. That's all."
The look Javi gives him says that his coach clearly doesn't believe David but isn't in the mood to argue about it. "Fine, Ferru," he grumbles. "I've been watching tape of Raonic's matches and talking to Galo about his tendencies. His biggest strength is his serve, of course, but you've faced big servers before. His movement..."
And that's about the time David tunes Javi out. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the copious amount of work Javi does to prepare for each match, but he's heard it all before, and it's not the first time he's played Milos.
~
The match is just as difficult as David thought it would be, but he manages to pull it out 6-3 in the third. He looks over at his box several times, but even though Juan Carlos is there, trying his best not to look bored, Tommy is nowhere to be seen.
David tries to tell himself it doesn't matter, reminds himself that Tommy never said he was going to come, never said for sure he was even going to stay in Valencia.
He nods at Nico, who's waiting to take the court against Marcel, drops his bag on the bench, and heads for the shower without a backward glance.
He leaves his bag in the locker room when he goes to do press, although he does make sure it's zipped up. He doesn't think anyone will take anything--access to the players' locker room is very strictly controlled, after all--but it's better not to take any chances. He does take the extra half-second to pocket his phone, however. He won't even be close to the first player to head into the press room with a phone, and he certainly won't be the last.
The press ask the same questions they always ask, and David answers them with the same answers he always uses, and he's done in twenty minutes.
When he makes it back to the locker room, one of the zippers on his bag is unzipped about 3 cm. Ferru knows he left every zipper completely zipped up.
As soon as he unzips the zipper, a small stuffed lion falls out. Around its neck is a note, the handwriting painfully familiar, although David can't place from where he knows it at the moment. A king for a king is all it says. The note isn't signed.
And then Tommy is there, eyeing the lion David's still holding dumbly with a cross between confusion and suspicion. "How'd you get that?" he asks after a second.
Davis shrugs. "It was in my bag when I got back from press," he explains, handing it over. Tommy barely looks at it before handing it back, which is strange. "I should probably talk to security to make sure fans aren't sneaking into the locker room," he adds, making a mental note to do just that.
"I don't think you have to worry about that," Tommy says, his voice suspiciously quiet. "So, I still owe you dinner..."
"Sure," David agrees, pulling out his phone to text Javi so his coach doesn't send out a search party or do something equally dramatic, like phoning David's mom. "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise," Tommy says, digging in his pocket for his car keys. "But what you're wearing is fine. Are you ready to go, or do you still have more press to do?"
"No, I'm done," David says, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "I'm all yours."
It's only after the words come out of his mouth that David realizes he might have conveyed too much of what he's thinking and feeling.
"All right then," Tommy says, and his tone is a little off. "If we go now, we'll actually be on time for our reservation."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," David teases. "Your expectations seem unreasonably high."
Tommy laughs at that and jangles his car keys once again.
~
The restaurant to which Tommy pulls up is one of those places famous amongst the locals and mostly ignored by the tourists, which suits David just fine. (It's also one of David's favourite restaurants to visit when he's home, but there's no way Tommy could possibly know that.) There's no valet service, so Tommy parks his car down the street, and they walk to the restaurant.
Tommy gives the maitre d' his name, and in a matter of seconds, they're being led to a table in the back corner.
"Have you ever been here before?" Tommy asks. "Juanqui said this place had good food."
"You asked Juanqui?" David mumbles, surprised even though he shouldn't be.
"Yeah," Tommy agrees, and even in the dim lighting, David can see that he's blushing. "So I'm kind of hoping he didn't lie to me."
David opens his mouth to defend Juanqui, but it's exactly the sort of dick thing Juanqui would do and find hilarious, so he closes his mouth again without saying anything. If his laugh is anything to go by, Tommy knows exactly what was about to happen.
"But no, this is a good place," David promises. "I've been here before."
Their waiter is there before Tommy can say anything else. They both order wine, and Tommy gets pasta while David orders the paella because the paella at this restaurant is almost as good as his mother's, and he doesn't get to have either all that often.
"So, either Nico or Marci tomorrow," Tommy begins when their wine shows up. "At least you know both of their tendencies. You should; you've played with and against both of them enough."
"Yeah," David agrees, staring down at his wine. "But I've just got to go out there and play my game. I can't spend too much time thinking about how the guy across the net from me is a friend of mine. I just have to play my game and block everything else out."
"I'm not the press, you know," Tommy replies after a second's hesitation. "I know better than anyone that there are no friends on the tennis court."
David can't help but blush at the rebuke. He picks up one of the rolls in the basket and starts shredding it absently. "Sorry," he mumbles. "Sometimes, I think it just happens without me thinking about it. I'm so used to the questions that I just answer them before I think, you know? Sorry."
Tommy laughs at that, and then their main courses arrive so it's mostly silence for the first few minutes while they turn their attention to their food. The paella is just as good as David remembers it being. "How's your linguine?" he asks after a moment, setting his fork down to pick up his wine glass.
"Really good," Tommy enthuses. "I'll have to remember the name of this place for the next time I'm in Valencia."
"Well, hopefully you'll have the chance to come back before the tournament next year," David says, and then bites his tongue because that was most definitely too forward.
"I'm sure I can think of something," Tommy promises, and David tries not to read too much into that. Valencia isn't that far from Barcelona; there are a ton of reasons Tommy might visit Valencia, and most of them have nothing to do with David. "This linguine alone would be worth the trip."
This time, David bites his tongue until he tastes blood to prevent himself from asking what other reasons there might be.
"You played well today," Tommy says after a moment's silence.
"You were there?" David asks. "I didn't see you in the box."
Tommy smiles at him. "No, I bought a ticket and sat in the stands," he admits. "It's been a while since I just sat in the stands with the fans."
"And?" David presses. "What did you see?"
Tommy shrugs. "I'm sure Javi will tell you that you stayed calm and managed to get into a lot of rallies with him. You managed to..." here Tommy pauses as if searching for the right word, "minimize the potency of his serve, I guess. You played a really solid, smart match, and you won." Tommy smiles at that. "Although there were a couple of tense moments along the way."
David grins at that. "Yeah, well, life's better with a little excitement."
Tommy laughs a little. "Guaranteed your fans don't think that way, Ferru."
"Oh yeah?" David teases.
"Yeah," Tommy agrees, and he sounds completely serious, far too serious for it to be a joke. Then, just like that, Tommy turns his attention back to his food. David turns back to his own food somewhat gratefully because he's not quite sure what to say in response to that.
"When are you leaving for Paris?" David asks absently, when he pushes his plate away.
Tommy shrugs. "Depends," he says, but he doesn't explain on what it depends. "Sunday sometime, probably." He smiles a little. "After all, I won't have a first round bye like some hotshots I know."
David laughs at that. "Sometimes the byes aren't all that helpful," he returns. "Especially if you're coming up against someone on a hot streak."
"Watch out then," Tommy teases. "I'm coming for you, Ferru."
David can't help but grin at that. "I'll be waiting, Tommy," he promises. "I'll be waiting."
~
David ends up playing Marcel in the semi, and he makes a point of not looking at either of their boxes, just in case Tommy is sitting with Marcel's team because if that's the case, David doesn't really want to know.
In the end, it's a pretty routine match for him; he wins 3 and 4 and gives Marcel a consolatory pat on the back when they meet at the net.
When he gets a chance to check his phone, he has a text from Tommy. gud job it reads.
thx he sends back. u comin 2morow? he adds after a second, made brave by the adrenaline of the win. As soon as he sends the text, however, he wants to have it back.
He stuffs his phone back into his bag so he doesn't check it ten thousand times to see if Tommy has answered yet or not, and then Javi is there, going over the match in great detail and talking about what he did well and on what he needs to improve. Just like always.
And then his parents want to go to dinner, and David never did learn quite how to say no to his mother. Apparently, today is not the day he finally learns either because he's sitting at his mother's kitchen table when he finally gets a chance to check his phone.
wudnt miss it Tommy has sent back. David can't help but smiling stupidly for the rest of the night. Thankfully, neither his parents nor his brother call him on it.
~
When he was little, David had imagined he'd get used to the nerves of playing in a final. Despite all the intervening years and matches, however, the nervous feeling hasn't lessened at all, most especially when he's playing at home. He knows without looking that Juanqui, Javi, and his parents are all sitting together in his players' box. If Tommy came like he said he was going to, he should be sitting with them. If he hasn't come, well, David doesn't really want to know.
The chair goes over the instructions for the match, they take a couple of photos, and then it's down to business. Fabio wins the coin toss and elects to receive. The first couple games are slow. David avoids being broken on his first service game but also isn't able to break Fabio, despite having a couple of break points. His second service game goes more smoothly, and he holds at 15.
They go into the first changeover on serve, and David chances to look up at his box. His parents both look nervous, even though they've attended literally hundreds of matches over the course of his career; Juanqui looks bored; and Javi is staring down at the court intently, almost as if he's trying to convey some strategy to David with only the power of his mind. Sitting between Juanqui and Javi, looking a little out of place and uncomfortable, is Tommy.
David looks away quickly, just in case something on his face gives him away.
He breaks Fabio in the Italian's next service game and holds his own service game at love.
He breaks Fabio once more when he's serving for the set and ends up taking it 6-2. When he gets back to his chair, he can't help but glance up at his box. Juanqui still looks bored, but his parents look a lot less anxious. Javi's facial expression hasn't changed at all; he's still staring intently at the court like it has the answer to all the world's secrets. David finds his eyes drawn to the other man in his box, however, and that's where he finds his eyes lingering. Tommy looks more at ease now, leaning back in his seat and exchanging the occasional word with David's brother.
David spends so much of the changeover contemplating how comfortable they all look together that he's not prepared for the aggression with which Fabio starts the second set, and he drops serve immediately.
It sure as fuck brings all of his attention back to what's happening on court, however. Fabio holds his own serve despite David's best efforts, and David manages to hold his own serve going into the changeover.
"Just focus," David mumbles to his racquet, fiddling with the grip, after he's sat down in his chair and taken a long drink from his water bottle. "You can do this."
He breaks Fabio on the Italian's next service game and then holds, which means he's back on track. Resolutely, he keeps his eyes on the ground right in front of his chair during the changeover and doesn't let himself think of anything but the next point, the next game.
Fabio doesn't have a very good service game when the changeover ends--he serves two double faults--and David manages to take advantage of that fact and break again.
Fabio pushes him hard when David steps up to the line to serve, but David manages to save three break points and hold. And then he's only a game away from the title; David forces himself not to think about that, however. Instead, he focuses on what he has to do to win.
Everything else can come later.
It'll have to.
~
David doesn't break Fabio on the Italian's next service game, but he does manage to hold his own serve, and that's all he needs to win.
Juan Carlos grins at him and cracks a joke about David being able to keep this one when he hands over the trophy, and David has never been so glad to be handed a trophy in his life, and not only because Juan Carlos is handing it to him.
He doesn't really remember all that much of his victory speech, but he's pretty sure he thanks Fabio for playing a good match, the event organizers, the ball kids, Javi, and his family and friends for their support.
After that, there's press, which seems to take three times as long as usual, and then he's back in the locker room and Juanqui and his parents are there. And Tommy.
His parents make it to him first, telling him how proud of him they are. David hugs them back and lets himself bask in the warmth of their love and their pride.
Javi claps him on the back with a grin and then steps back. David knows they'll talk about the match later, maybe on the way to Paris, but that's for later. Now is a time for celebration.
And then Tommy is there, and David can't really stop himself from grabbing the other man and kissing him. It's only when he pulls back that he starts worrying about Tommy's reaction.
Before Tommy can say anything though, Juan Carlos declares, "Fucking finally. It was beginning to look like we were going to have to take more drastic measures."
"Excuse me?" David demands indignantly while his parents laugh.
Juan Carlos isn't the least bit put off by David's indignation. In fact, if anything, he seems amused by it. "And it was really quite a bit of work," he continues. "I wish I could claim it was my idea, but I do like to think I added my own personal touches."
And David would really, really like to continue kissing Tommy, but he needs to know what Juanqui is talking about. "What?" he demands while Tommy laughs against his neck.
"That practice time neither of you remembered signing up for? That's because neither of you actually signed up for it. The chocolates and the plush in Ferru's bag? And the Valencia oranges tucked into Tommy's?" he continues, obviously pleased with himself. "You were both unexpectedly helpful with all those dinners you arranged though."
"You said you didn't know anything about that!" David replies indignantly.
"I didn't at the time. Just because I didn't tell you anything about it when Nico told me what he'd done doesn't mean I knew the whole time."
"And you didn't say anything when you found out?" David demands, making a mental note to take it up with Nico the next time he sees the murciano.
Juan Carlos actually rolls his eyes at that. "And lose all the fun of watching you two dance around each other? I think not."
David narrows his eyes at Juan Carlos.
"I can't believe it worked," Juan Carlos continues. "Nico said it would, but I was sure you were both too stubborn to see what was right in front of your faces. Literally right in front of your faces."
David's still coming up with half a dozen threats when Tommy speaks. "Well, I guess we owe both you and Nico thanks for finally pushing us together," he says.
Juan Carlos actually seems speechless for a change. "Well, good," he finally mumbles. "I'll just let you get back to it then," he finishes lamely.
It's only then that David realizes his parents and Javi have already disappeared.
"I'm going to make his life miserable," David mumbles as soon as he's alone with Tommy.
"Oh, I'm with you," Tommy agrees. "I just don't want him having time to prepare his defences."
"Smart," David agrees because it is. Juan Carlos may be pretending to be above locker room pranks now that he's retired and the director of a tournament and everything, but David knows better.
Tommy grins down at him then, and David allows himself to be momentarily distracted from plotting revenge, pulling Tommy down into another kiss.
He just won the fucking tournament, after all. Everything else can wait five more minutes.
fin.
Notes
1. This fic was started before Tommy Robredo injured his wrist in Shanghai, effectively ending his season before Valencia. Thus, it exists in a sort of alternate world where Robredo is still healthy and plays. The draw and the results, like everything else about this fic, are purely fictional. Also, while it doesn't affect this fic at all, it should be noted that Rafael Nadal ended up pulling out of Basel.
2. While this fic was originally meant to showcase Nico's secret matchmaking talent, it ended up being more about David's (and Tommy's) secret talent of being ridiculously oblivious. And Juan Carlos's not-so-secret talent of being a smug asshole.
3. Title and cutline from the song "When the Right One Comes Along (feat. clare Bowen &Sam Palladio)" off The Music of Nashville.