Rafa has never liked technology and English
Title: Rafa has never liked technology and English
Pairing: Rafael Nadal/Novak Djokovic
Other characters: Andy Murray, Marian Vajda
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3,500
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and this is a fiction.
Warning: I don’t own a Blackberry, so I have no idea if it has an auto-correcting function. Even if it does, I doubt this is exactly how it works but then who understands how auto-correction works anyway?
Summary: Technology can be a nasty thing. English can be hard. Just ask Rafa.
Author’s notes: a) I got the auto-correction idea from a “Suits” (apparently there are cute boys outside the tennis world too!) prompt. I’m just borrowing that prompt, and I did not steal any lines from their stories. Thank you to whoever that came up with the fun idea!
b) The struck-through word indicates that was the word the person intended to type.
It had been months since Rafael and Novak had stopped flirting with each other. This was a problem for both of them, the people around them (friends, team, close fellow players), and the fans who missed their bromance on court.
‘It’s too damn quiet.’
Rafael ruffled his hair and let out a long sigh as he put up his feet on the coffee table. His sigh echoed due to the largeness of the room, letting him painfully realize that he was indeed alone. Rafael cursed the hotel manager who wouldn’t give him a small room as he had asked for. This deadly silence was exactly what he had wanted to avoid.
‘Maybe I should turn on the TV even when I don’t watch it.’
Rafael grabbed the remote control and went through the channels, but even the loudest, funniest program failed to make him less lonely. Novak used to spend a lot of time in his room, chatting away like a baby bird that had seen the world for the first time. They had never made out even behind locked doors, but the little gestures and the tone of their voices had been more than enough to confirm that they were interested in each other.
‘How did this happen?’
He wasn’t sure what made Novak and him drift apart. He did lose five finals this year to the Serb, but that wasn’t the reason why they had given up their friendship or whatever relationship that they were having. Then was it about Novak’s celebration in front of the hotel in Madrid? The press seemed to be particularly interested in that incident, but frankly, Rafael had got over it in a week or two. So then what was it?
He fumbled with a frame in his hand. It was a picture of him and Novak, wearing traditional Columbian hats. They looked like two able sheriffs in the Spaniard’s eyes.
‘He was never going to make a move on me, was he?’ Rafael felt worse as if that was even possible.
‘Did he get bored of me? Maybe I should’ve talked more rather than listening to him. Or should I have kept hugging him at the net? Did he feel abandoned? But it was very difficult to do that! I was really sad about my loss and he destroyed me in my hometown!’
Rafael scratched his head. Whatever had happened, whoever was to be blamed for, he was miserable. He wondered if Novak felt the same.
Bleep.
Rafael picked up his Blackberry with no interest whatsoever. It was probably Uncle Toni, asking him what he would like for dinner or Pico, asking him if he wanted to play video games with him.
‘I’m not hungry and I’m not in the mood for games.’
In fact, Rafael didn’t feel too much enthusiasm about anything these days; unless he was running all kinds of ‘what if’ scenarios with him and Novak in his head. He lazily checked the text message and his eyes grew wide. It was from Novak.
Rafa, we need to talk. I can’t sleep at night. Anxiety Andy is keeping me awake.
Rafael’s jaw dropped. Novak hadn’t texted him for weeks, and this was what he got! That coldhearted bastard! Besides, he didn’t know that Novak was sleeping with someone! Perhaps he was too naïve or didn’t want to think about that possibility. Of course Novak would sleep with someone! He’s the number one tennis player in the world! Rafael knew exactly how much temptation there was every day when you are at the top spot.
‘But Andy? I thought they were just very good friends! Ah, I knew they were way too friendly at that exhibition in Australia.’
I don’t want to hear about your sleeping problem.
He typed quickly, hurt and angry, and pressed the SEND button. If Novak was a decent human being, he would apologize.
BUT I HAVE TO GET ON TOP OF THIS ANXIETY ANDY! I need your help.
Rafael was simply baffled. There were several reasons for his reaction.
A) Novak said, ‘this’ Andy. That means there’s a ‘that’ Andy too. Which means that the bastard is sleeping with both Murray and Roddick!
B) If he sleeps with Roddick, it means that he’s sleeping with a married man. He expected more from the Serb even if Roddick sleeps around.
C) Novak has the nerves to ask for his help when they had flirted with each other until three months ago. He had made him care about him, think about him for the better part of the day, and… never slept with him! What do the Andys have that he doesn’t?
The Spaniard quickly thought about the common traits that the Andys might share.
‘Eh, they both yell like a werewolf?’
Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of anything else.
There were times when he wondered if he wasn’t Novak’s type. Maybe his backsides were too large, but if the world number one sleeps with Roddick, he could rule that one out. Maybe Novak liked paler skin, but again, Roddick got pretty tanned. Then it hit him that perhaps Novak wanted someone who spoke better English than him.
‘But who talks that much in bed? And, I learned all the key words from Nando anyway!’
Rafael thought about the embarrassing English lesson that made him cringe. He had asked Fernando to teach him useful words that might be needed when he got into bed with the Serb. He was expecting Novak to make a move on him after the Madrid Masters, but it had never happened.
Bleep.
Rafa? Please, it’s all I think about day in, day out. Help me.
He thinks about topping Andy all day? Something snapped, something broke, and something shattered inside the lonely boy. Rafael became a different person for a split second. He picked up his phone and threw it as hard as he could.
Smash.
Rafael got a new cell phone only because Benito had told him that he would quit if he didn’t get one by the end of the week. He even changed his phone number so he wouldn’t be updated on Novak’s love life, and it felt great. The first thing that Rafael did was sending a text to ‘this’ Andy. Or was this Andy actually ‘that’ Andy? The Spaniard frowned at the mental image of a naked Novak rolling on the bedcovers with an Andy. Why couldn’t that be him? He was sure that if he put his mind to it, he would be great at rolling on bedcovers!
‘Murray was supposed to be helping me, not taking Nole away from me.’
The Spaniard was aware that he and Novak had never gone out, but since he had told Andy about his feelings towards the Serb, it hurt to know that the Scot would take his love interest as soon as he was out of the picture.
You know I like him! How could you do something like that? -RAFA
Andy might recognize the sender even without the name unless the world number four made a habit of stealing people’s love interests, but he wanted to make sure that Andy knew it was him and felt absolutely guilty.
You changed your number? What are you talking about?
Nole Nobody! I expected more from you!
I’m not following you.
Rafael huffed. I know you’re not following me on twitter! I’m not following you either!
Then he got a very childish idea. Guess what! Nole Nobody is following me! Hah!
On the other side of the conversation, Andy was scratching his head.
‘From what I’ve heard, he has over 340,000 followers. He calls that nobody? Geez! And, what’s that ‘hah’?’
Andy made a mental note to never get his fingers burnt. Apparently it had an effect not only on one’s fingers but also on one’s brain.
“You can dance… You can jive, having the time of your life… Woooh…”
Novak was having a splendid time, watching Mamma Mia. Ever since Rafael had cut him out of his life, he hadn’t felt this much fun. The show was truly amazing, and it seemed to have the power to cure a sad heart.
“See that girl… Watch that scene… Dig in the dancing queen…”
The show was coming to an end. As people jumped up from their seats to give a standing ovation, Novak did the same.
“Bravo!”
He clapped for as long as he could and gathered his belongings to leave.
“Excuse me, Mr. Djokovic. The leading actresses would like to take some pictures with you if you don’t mind.”
“Sure!” Novak answered with a smile.
“Oh, I almost forgot! Mr. Nadal has come to watch the show too, so he will be joining us. I’m sure that’s not a problem.”
Novak’s head snapped to the stage where the Spaniard was already busy shaking the actors’ hands. What were the odds of him running into Rafael like this? Why couldn’t it be some other player? Why today? Why?
“It won’t be a problem at all.” He couldn’t tell if it was an answer or a spell to calm himself.
“Novak.”
“Rafa.”
Rafael held out his hand and Novak shook it casually as if they had run into each other on a practice court.
“How’s Andy?” Rafael couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“Andy? I guess he’s fine. He looked very happy.” Novak thought about the Cincinnati title that Murray had won last week.
“For sure.”
Rafael’s voice had a strangely dangerous tone, and Novak sensed it. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but the photographer was ready to take the pictures.
“Say chee-se!”
“Gee-ez.” Rafael was not in the mood.
Knock-knock.
Rafael glared at the door and wished that the hotel room had a remote control to open the door from the couch.
“Coming.”
He didn’t bother to look through the peephole; if it was a robber or someone dangerous, he would have a good excuse to beat the living daylights out of him with his faithful racquet.
“Good evening.”
Rafael stared at the visitor. It was Novak. “What are you doing here?”
“I came over to talk.”
“About what?”
“About how you fled earlier before I could get a chance to talk to you and how you shut me out of your life.”
Rafael admitted that he fled, but he wasn’t going to be responsible for not answering to Novak’s text when he wanted tips on how to top Andy.
“That was not my fault.”
He mumbled and stepped aside to let Novak in. He hated feeling annoyed and gloomy for so long; whatever was going to happen, he felt the absolute need to sit down and have a serious conversation with the man who had been tormenting him.
Novak stepped into the room and his lungs were soon filled with Rafael’s scent. He had missed having that scent around.
“Water? Juice? Tea?”
Rafael busied himself. He would have to face Novak eventually, but he needed a little time to make sure that the walls around his heart weren’t about to fall.
“Any juice would do, thanks.”
Novak sat on the couch and looked around. The Spaniard always kept his rooms clean and this room was no different. It was then that he spotted a picture on the bedside table; it was Rafael and himself from the exhibition in Columbia.
“I just like the hats.” Rafael rushed out and turned the picture around.
“Yeah, they were nice hats.” Novak tried not to smile. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one who had been missing what they had once had.
“Grape juice for you. Iced tea for me.” Rafael brought out the tray and placed it on the coffee table.
“Thank you.” Novak realized that he had been very thirsty, and gulped down the purple liquid.
Rafael took a sip from his tea and waited for Novak to drink half of his juice.
“So did you top him?” He just had to know.
Novak was lost. “Excuse me?”
“Did you top Andy?” Rafael had his arms crossed.
“You don’t know what happened? He topped me.” Novak answered, wondering how Rafael could not have heard about him retiring with a sore shoulder.
“Oh.”
The Serb had never seen the 10 times grand slam champion glare with so much anger. His answer wasn’t good enough? Did he want to know the score? Novak felt the need to change the subject; otherwise he was certain that his face would end up with a hole from Rafael’s laser-sharp stare.
“How are your fingers?”
“You want to see them?”
“Yes.”
Rafael got up and shoved his burnt fingers in Novak’s face, almost poking his visitor in the eyes. Had Novak not been a world-class athlete with superb reflexes, he would have been forced to pull out of US Open with blindness.
“Did you press charges?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“They offered me a lifetime of free food.”
“Oh.”
“How is your shoulder?” Rafael had to ask. It was only polite.
“Let me show you.”
Novak took off his T-shirt before Rafael could stop him. He was angry and wanted to stay angry. He didn’t want to see Novak’s perfect shoulders.
“Did you go to a doctor?”
“Yeah. He said I need a lot of massages. Ahhh…” Novak made an aching sound.
Rafael’s hands instinctively shot up and started massaging the shoulder.
“Is this too strong?” He was worried.
“It’s fine. Thanks for doing this.” Novak said, still faking the ache.
“No problem. I help, no?” Rafael wanted to add ‘even if you sleep with Andys’ but it didn’t feel like the right time.
Rafael squeezed some lotion and worked on Novak’s shoulder. US Open was just around the corner and he would hate to see any player, let alone Novak, suffer from an injury when a grand slam was supposed to be a festival for all the players and fans.
As the Serb stopped frowning, he relaxed and started to enjoy the feeling of the smooth yet firm skin under his hands. He wished that they had done more than mild flirting. He wished that he had had the chance to hang onto Novak’s shoulders for dear life, rolling on those stupid bedcovers.
Rafael wondered how Novak would react if he made a move on him. Would he cheat on Andy with him? Wait. Was Murray before or after Roddick? Or was Nole sleeping around that there were other guys in the picture too?
“Thanks, Rafa. I’ll go clean up in the bathroom if you’d let me.”
Rafael nodded and let out a sad sigh. He was known to be brave on court. He couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t do the same off court.
Bleep.
Rafael checked the location of his cell phone; it was on the bedside table, which meant that the sound came from Novak’s phone.
‘God help me…’
He knew that he wasn’t supposed to do this, but his fingers moved quickly and quietly as he checked Novak’s text message. It was from the Scottish Andy.
I can’t wait to see you boxing boxers.
Rafael almost dropped the phone. He suspected that Andy must have felt too weak in the knees while imagining Novak in his new boxers that he couldn’t summon enough strength to type ‘your’ properly. He thought about sending Andy a deadly message, but he heard Novak opening the bathroom door.
“I can’t believe you’re sleeping with Murray.”
Rafael let it out as soon as Novak took a seat back on the couch. He couldn’t stand it any longer; this was the talk that they were going to have.
“Excuse me? I’m not sleeping with him.”
“Liar!”
“I’m not lying! Why would I sleep with him? He’s a friend!”
“But you bought new boxers to show him!”
“What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”
“I read your text.” Rafael confessed with a tiny voice.
Novak’s jaw dropped. “You looked at my phone?”
“It kept bleeping while you were in there!”
“Liar! My phone bleeps only once!”
“That’s not the point! I thought you liked me but you’re sleeping with someone else!”
Novak was stunned. “I still like you! Apparently you are the one who can’t warm up to me! But then, why am I even surprised? You don’t even like animals! Especially dogs! So how could you possibly like me?”
Now it was Rafael’s time to be stunned. “You read my book?”
“That’s not the point! You don’t like dogs!”
“I just don’t like your dog…” Rafael’s voice became tiny again.
At this point, Novak was too tired to ask about the reason. They were speaking the same language, but it certainly didn’t feel that way.
“Care to explain?”
“You adore him!” Rafael exploded, all the suppressed frustration pouring out of his veins.
“I’ve seen pictures of you and him, no?”
“Wait. You saw the pictures I tweeted? But you don’t follow me.”
“Again, that’s not the point! I want to sit with you at dinner while you’re wearing short shorts too!!!”
Silence fell heavily in the room, and neither man moved a muscle.
‘What did he just say?’
‘What did I just say? Oh no…’ Rafael blamed his tea; too much caffeine. He had to say something to kill the awkwardness hanging in the air.
“Nole… I just wanted to…” But before he could string a sentence together, Novak’s lips came crushing down on his.
Rafael now understood why people said ‘I melted and made noises that even a seventeen year old girl wouldn’t make.’ when they have been kissed with great passion. He clutched anything that he could get his hands on; Novak’s T-shirt, arms, hair, and ears.
“Oww!” Novak pulled back, hands on both ears.
“Oops! Sorry! Are you okay?”
“You really want me injured, don’t you?” Novak joked.
“Let me see them.” The Spaniard took a good look at both ears. They had turned red, but they looked all right.
“Do you want me to kiss them better?” Rafael was getting bold. Novak had kissed him first.
“Yes, please.”
But when Rafael was about to lean in, Novak’s cell phone killed the mood.
Bleep.
Rafael snatched the annoying phone and they read the text together. It was from Nole’s coach, Marian.
Where are you? Get your ass axe back here! We have to talk about tactics taxis.
Rafael was confused. “You have an axe?”
“Ahaha, it’s the auto-correction, Rafa.” Novak laughed some more and read the previous message that Andy had sent.
“Ah! Andy uses it too! It’s not ‘boxers’. He meant ‘boxing’! You know how he likes boxing. He wanted someone to work out with, so I volunteered.”
“Ahhh!”
Suddenly everything made sense to the Spaniard. “This is why we have to call each other, no? Texts can be evil.”
Novak nodded and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I’ll have to go see Marian. But as soon as I’m done destroying taxis with an axe, I’ll be back for you.”
The world number one reluctantly got up from the couch and walked towards the door.
“You wear those short shorts when you come back.” Rafael reminded him.
“I don’t know about that. I’ll have to ask Andy.” Novak grinned like a naughty boy and Rafael threw a cushion at him.
“Aww, your interest for me is very aggressive. I like that.” He kissed the cushion and threw it back.
As Novak left the room, Rafael rushed to get his own phone.
‘I should tell Andy about this! He’ll be so happy for us!’
He felt that the Scot deserved to know about Novak’s visit since he was the one who had to deal with both of them. Andy had been patient and kind, and it was time to deliver the good news.
‘Eh, what’s the correct expression? Nole used it earlier, no?’
He pondered with his phone in hand, but he knew that Andy was already used to all sorts of English mistakes. He was sure that the Scot would understand his message just fine. So, without further ado, he texted the news that made his day.
Andy! Nole came all over me! :D