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Holiday Open 2023
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2023-12-25
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tennis actually

Summary:

On the eve of the 2010 Match for Africa in Zurich, Rafa gets inspired by Love Actually and decides to finally tell Roger how he feels.

Notes:

For Alice, who once said the Match for Africa exhibition is her "classic Christmas movie" 🥰 (Alice idk which match specifically but hopefully this is close enough 🤣) Merry Christmas and hope you enjoy this fluffy little story 🤗

The promo video that I reference in the fic is here!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Rafa has grown accustomed to doing promos with Roger by now. The more they battle together on court, the more fans and sponsors want to see them together off court. They’re often paired for ATP content, pre-tournament interviews, even the occasional Nike shoot. Not that Rafa minds, of course. Each of these is an excuse to ogle Roger up close, closer than Rafa would dare to do of his own accord.

Usually Roger is prompt and professional at these events, his scripted lines memorized, his off the cuff answers polished. Rafa observes him with awe, amazed at the ease with which he delivers his words, a talent that Rafa has has always struggled to attain. Where Rafa stumbles over his English, Roger soars, picking up the slack for Rafa more than once. Roger is somehow effortlessly confident but not arrogant. Funny, but not vulgar. Jovial, but not silly.

For some reason, though, today’s promo shoot is different. Roger strolls in with a twinkle in his eye and a broad grin over his face.

“Thanks for doing this, Raf,” Roger greets him, leaning close to murmur, “I have a good feeling about this exhibition. Think it’s gonna be really special.”

“I, um—sí, I—me too,” Rafa stammers, taken aback by the unexpected proximity. Roger’s aftershave smells of peppermint and nutmeg, intoxicating enough that Rafa nearly forgets his place and dives in to inhale along his throat. Quickly, he pulls himself together and settles at his mark.

“Alright then, both of you ready? Good,” the director says, satisfied. “Take one. Three…two…one…go.” Rafa looks straight ahead to the camera, takes a breath, and waits for Roger to recite the first line.

“So Rafa, do you know what you’re gonna get me for Christmas yet?” Roger starts.

Rafa puts on his best acting face and replies with what he rehearsed countless times this morning, wanting everything to be perfect for Roger. “You know what? I gonna come to Switzerland and play an exhibition match for your foundation.”

It's an innocuous line, delivered just as he practiced. Next, Roger should say "That's very nice." Instead, Roger bursts into a fit of laughter. He doubles over in his chair, ruining the take. Rafa is stunned, but Roger’s glee proves infectious and Rafa joins him. He couldn’t help it if he tried. That laugh is one of his favorite sounds in the world, and has been for quite some time now.

They reset and go again. For the second time, Roger laughs. They reset once more, but yet again Roger chuckles. Soon, neither can make it more than three words without cracking up, ruining take after take as they fight giggles each time.

“But, sorry—” Roger asks the director between chuckles. “Tell me again, how do I start? Is it just like, ‘Rafa, what are you gonna get me for Christmas?’”

“Yeah. You’ll say ‘Rafa, do you have an idea of what you’re going to give me for Christmas?’ and then Rafa will…”

As the director continues, Rafa lets his mind wander to what he might really like to get Roger for Christmas. He’d give him whatever he wants. Anything in his power. A watch. A car.

A kiss.

The perfect kiss, better than Roger's ever had before. They'd stand outside in the crisp winter air, snow gently dusting their coats. Roger would cradle Rafa close and Rafa would part his lips to invite Roger in. It would be nice and soft, then Roger would lower his hands down to his waist, then further down to his a—

“Rafa? Ready?” the director prompts, making him jolt up in his seat.

“Oh. Yes, I ready.”

“Rafa, do you know what you’re gonna get me for Christmas yet, as a present?” Roger tries on the twentieth take.

“You know what? I gonna come to Switzerland and play an exhibition match for your foundation.”

“That’s very nice, thank you,” Roger nods.

“And what present you gonna give me?” Rafa asks in return.

“A present for you?” Roger pauses, pretends to think on it for a moment. “I’ll give you the first set, how’s that?”

“Ah, that’s nice.”

“Isn’t it?” Roger grins.

After filming concludes, Rafa lingers. He always lingers around Roger, aching for any extra moment in his presence. He takes his time collecting his belongings, stealing sideways glances subtle enough for no one to notice. Then, unexpectedly, just before he’s about to leave, Roger turns to him and asks, “Have you ever been to Zurich before?”

Rafa shakes his head. Face to face with Roger’s dark, handsome features, and with no script to guide him, it’s impossible to articulate an actual response.

Roger smiles at him. “You’ll like it, I’m sure. Zurich is lovely at Christmastime. All the lights and snow. There’s a little Christmas market with shops, too. I’ll show you around when you arrive, if you want. Maybe you can get me my Christmas present there,” he jokes.

A tour around the city with Roger as his personal guide? The thought is almost too enticing to bear. After five seconds of silence in which Rafa stands quietly, too tongue-tied to speak, Roger furrows his brow. “Unless you don’t wan—”

“No!” Rafa cries, a bit melodramatic. “Would be nice.”

****

Lovely, Roger had said. The plane barely touches down in Zurich before Rafa senses in his core exactly what Roger meant. The climate is so different from his own hometown, but instantly he feels comfort in the wintry surroundings. He stares out the window on the car ride to his hotel, taking in the flakes lightly falling outside, the bright buildings around the city, and the tall, snow-covered mountains. Something about this setting feels magical, almost transformative.

Rafa isn’t one to sit around all day watching Christmas movies and eating bonbons. But when he gets to the hotel and finds himself with a few free hours before Roger is set to meet up with him, he decides to lounge in bed and watch something. Anything to distract him from the anticipation of seeing Roger. Rather than sports, though, like he would usually watch, he pauses on a channel showing a holiday movie he’s not familiar with.

He intends to watch for no more than 20 minutes before switching to something else, but the story is so captivating that 20 minutes stretch to 30, then 30 stretch to an hour, and before he knows it, two hours pass and he’s wiping tears from his face and getting sentimental about Heathrow Airport.

Lovely Act, it’s called.

No, wait – Love Actually.

He lets the credits roll, revisiting the storylines in his head. So many intertwined plots, but the same recurring theme: people taking action to get what they want. The tall British man learning a new language. The Prime Minister going door to door. The little boy racing through the airport.

All of them did something to prove their love. Meanwhile, Rafa has been sitting idly by waiting for something to magically happen with Roger. Years pining over him yet going home to an empty bed each night.

No more. The potent cocktail of the movie, the snowfall, and the knowledge that Roger is close by stirs something in him. Drunk on Christmas spirit, Rafa sprints to the well-appointed desk in his suite and retrieves a pen and pad of paper from a drawer. Maybe this can be his “present” to Roger. All you need is love, he thinks. Love is all you need.

When Roger arrives in the lobby to show Rafa around town, he looks plucked straight out of an advertisement. Hair perfectly groomed…impeccably tailored red sweater…sleek wool coat…trousers snug in all the right places… The sight makes Rafa’s mouth drop open. Roger smirks and leads their way out.

“The square isn’t too far from here, and it’s such a nice night, I hope you don’t mind walking.”

“I do not mind. Is nice,” Rafa replies as they make their way toward the shops, hardened snow crunching beneath their boots.

“Everything alright with the room?” Roger asks later, breaking the silence.

“Sí.”

“Nice view? Can you see the mountains?”

“Yes.”

“Bed comfortable?”

“Yes.” Rafa’s nerves are starting to get the better of him. He can’t do this, it’s too rushed. He should wait until after the exhibition. Or maybe after he retires. Whichever is furthest away.

“Good, that’s good,” Roger says. “This is the foundation’s first big event like this, I want everything to be perfect. That includes a good night’s sleep for our big star.”

Rafa giggles.

“What?”

“You are the star, Rogelio.”

“Psh.”

“Is the true!”

“How about both of us then? Deal?” Roger proposes.

“Deal,” Rafa grins.

“I love when you call me that, by the way,” Roger murmurs, his shoulder grazing against Rafa’s. “Rogelio…”

Their eyes meet for a moment, Roger’s chestnut irises shining in the moonlight. Maybe Rafa can do this. “Rogi, I—”

“Ah, here we are!” Roger interrupts.

Rafa’s eyes widen and he stops in his tracks from the sensory overload. He’s seen pictures of Christmas markets before, but never been to one like this, not one so ornate and colorful and bright. The air smells of hot chocolate and pastries. Countless strings of lights adorn buildings far as the eye can see. Pine trees line each row, dusted by the constant stream of gentle snowflakes. Street performers play Christmas carols.

“Guau,” Rafa whispers.

“You like it?” Roger asks expectantly.

“I love,” he beams. “Where we go first?”

Roger guides him through his favorite spots. They sample mulled wine, potato pancakes, gingerbread, and rich chocolates as they wind their way through the market. Rafa purchases a Santa Claus figurine for his mother and a Nutcracker ornament for his sister. Mercifully, in the midst of the hustle and bustle, no one seems to notice their presence, or if they do, they leave them be. As they stroll, Rafa observes all the different patrons; families and couples celebrating the season together, all warm smiles and hugs and soft kisses.

“I’ve been coming here since I was a child. There are markets all over Switzerland but this is the one my family would visit. The booths have changed, but the energy is the same. I can’t quite explain it but…” Roger scrunches his forehead, searching for the right words, “…every time I come here, I feel rejuvenated. Like…I can be who I want to be. Is that stupid?” he asks, turning to Rafa, chuckling. “I don’t even know if that makes sense.”

“Is make perfect sense. I understand you.”

Suddenly Rafa hears “Christmas Is All Around” faintly playing in the background. I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes, Christmas is all around me. He doesn’t know if it’s real or in his imagination but he takes it as a sign regardless.

“I’m so glad you like this place. I was hoping I’d get to show you around here one day,” Roger says. “You…specifically,” he adds quietly.

Now. Now is the time, right here, right now.

“Roger, can we—over here.” Rafa leads them to the most private spot he can find, retrieves the stack of pages from his coat pocket, and takes a deep breath.

“Everything ok?” Roger asks, perplexed.

“Yes, just…just read.”

Rafa takes one step closer to Roger, still keeping his distance but close enough that Roger can read his writing. Then he flips the cards around and begins.

ROGER, I AM NO GOOD WITH WORDS, reads the first card. Roger furrows his brow.

BUT I NEED YOU TO KNOW SOMETHING

AND IF I CANNOT SPEAK IT

MAYBE I CAN WRITE IT

“What—”

“Shh.” Rafa quiets him. He flips to the next page, his heart racing. This is the part he wrote meticulously, trying to get the wording exactly like the movie.

FOR NOW, LET ME SAY

WITHOUT HOPE OR AGENDA

JUST BECAUSE IT’S CHRISTMAS—

(AND AT CHRISTMAS YOU TELL THE TRUTH)

“What is—is this Love Actually?!” Roger exclaims, excited. “Are you doing the thing from Love Actually?”

Rafa quirks his eyebrow. “You know Love Actual?” His confidence falters, and he starts to lower the cards.

“Yeah, of course!” Roger grins. “With the signs, yeah, I remember this. Great scene. Wait—” His eyes widen. “Rafa, what’s next on the cards? Are you—? Please…keep going. I’ll be quiet. Promise.”

“I can continue?”

Roger nods quickly.

Rafa swallows and lifts the cards again, then flips to the next one.

TO ME, YOU ARE PERFECT

He watches Roger’s gaze lift from the paper to his face. Roger’s breath appears to be quickening, and he opens his mouth as if to speak. True to his word, though, he stays silent. Rafa continues.

AND MY HEART WILL LOVE YOU

UNTIL YOU WIN 80 GRAND SLAMS

Roger lets out a sharp laugh and claps a hand over his mouth. Rafa lowers the cards and slips them back into his pocket.

“So…that’s it,” Rafa says, finally letting out the breath he's been holding the whole time. Finally, it's done.

For a long moment, they stare at each other, Rafa’s stomach fluttering from the confession and Roger’s eyes glistening as he wells up. Then, before Rafa has time to overthink and question everything, Roger closes the distance between them, frames Rafa’s face with both hands, and kisses him.

It’s not like the kiss Rafa imagined earlier, soft and gentle. Somehow, it's infinitely better, far more wanton than he ever dreamed. Rafa's imaginings of a tentative kiss that he had to coax from Roger's lips were well short from the reality before him. This kiss, instead, is immediately ferocious, their mouths locking together hard, bruising, years of tension let out in the span of seconds. Roger pulls him close and lets out a moan almost involuntarily. He licks into Rafa’s mouth and Rafa whines, needy, kissing him back with everything he can. Roger’s breath is hot, an intoxicating mix of caramel and chocolate. Rafa kisses him harder, tasting him, learning him. Despite the cold temperature and the snow falling around them, Rafa feels warm all over, relief and heat radiating throughout. He wraps his hands around Roger’s neck and Roger lowers his arms to encircle Rafa’s waist.

“Raf—” Roger says breathlessly between kisses, “You don’t know how long—for so long I’ve wanted—and you…”

Rafa grins against his mouth and idly runs his fingers through his soft dark hair. “Now is you who struggle with words,” he teases.

Roger smiles and kisses him again. “I wanted to tell you, it’s just—I thought you didn’t feel the same way. Always so quiet…”

This time Rafa leans in to kiss him, sweeter, slower, with promise and reassurance. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” Roger replies immediately.

Rafa dives in for more wintry kisses.

****

Rafa loses the exhibition match to Roger the next day. It doesn’t matter. He already won last night, and he’ll win again every day so long as he has Roger. When he returns to Spain, he carefully tucks the stack of cards away, a memento of the night that everything changed. The night that, as Roger had foretold, Zurich was filled with love, actually.

❤️

Notes:

Idk the idea of young Fedal strolling through a Christmas market seems so wintry and cozy, hope you agree!

tysm to Jane for helping me workshop ideas 🫶🫶🫶

I'm on twitter @atp4me 👋 and HAPPY HOLIDAYS everyone!