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When Enemies Attract	By : tennisstar Category: Individual Celebrities > Athlete/Sports Misc Views: 3351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Roger Federer or Novak Djokovic, or claim that this is in any way representative of their true lives. I do not make any profit from the writing of this story. This is fiction.

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Chapter 3

Roger and Rafa were on their feet cheering when Novak won the final. It was just as much a victory for them as Djokovic, he saved their reputations. As the top players, they are expected to win and when they don’t the trophy is open for anyone. It was a good rivalry that the Spaniard and Swiss man had, but their domination wasn’t good for the game. And with this win, Novak stepped up into their league, the league of champions.

“Should we text him congrats?” Roger asked excitedly.

“I don’t know. What would you do if I won?” Rafa asked, equally unsure.

“I’m usually on court next to you,” Roger joked.

“Maybe we’ll just wait for things to settle down, he hasn’t even got the trophy yet,” Rafa said, turning his attention back to the television where the trophy ceremony was about to start. Neither of them had an established friendship with Novak, they were more like friendly acquaintances at best, so they didn’t know how to treat him. He may be a cocky asshole sometimes on court, or with the press, but he had these moments where he was so likable that you couldn’t help but forget ever wanting to bash in his skull after a match.

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He had the trophy sitting atop the armoire in the hotel room, safe from wondering hands. It had been nearly two hours since he had left the stadium and the congratulatory phone calls and texts were pouring in. Every time his phone buzzed, Novak quickly flipped it open to see who it was from and was several times disappointed not to see Federer’s name. Rafa hadn’t even texted him, though when they spoke at the pub the Spaniard seemed pretty confident in him which is nearly as good as congratulations. Novak didn’t even know what he was expecting from the Swiss man. His heart fluttered for a moment, thinking back to the moment where Roger said he was proud of him, but his heart sank when he remembered that it wasn’t real. He knew not to expect that from Roger. Not only was he a proud man who wouldn’t easily admit such a thing, but they never really got along until the day before yesterday. Still, Novak hoped for a text, even if it was just a gloating sentence about how he had practically fed Novak the victory. That would even be better than no recognition at all.

Novak decided to seek out Roger; he just had to see him again before they left. It would be a challenge getting his whole camp out of the room, but Novak was determined. He claimed to be physically exhausted from the long match in the unrelenting Australian heat, and the slew of press he dealt with after. They seemed disheartened, but agreed to leave when he claimed that all he wanted to do was stare at his trophy and sleep. Once they had left Novak actually contemplated taking a nap, he was actually quite exhausted, but had already made a plan and would stick to it. Novak wondered up to the sixth floor where he had met Roger the other night. He brought the red folder with him, using it as his excuse to stop by. Surely Roger had other copies, but it was a better excuse than ‘hey I dropped by so you could congratulate me appropriately…so, go ahead.’

When he knocked on the door, Novak heard two distinctive voices and shuffling toward the door. For a moment, Novak feared that Roger had checked out and he was knocking on the door of strangers who might be angry at his intrusion. To his relief, Roger open the door and looked downright shocked to see him.

“Oh, Novak,” he said awkwardly before stepping back and letting the other man into the room. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” Novak started, suddenly questioning if he should’ve come. “I, uh, wanted to give this back to you,” he said, handing over the red folder.

“Oh, it’s just a copy. You could keep it if you want,” Roger said, more comfortable now that the surprise had worn away.

“It’s better if I give it back, I’ve memorized it anyways. I wouldn’t want the wrong person to come across it,” Novak said, actually managing to convince himself with his words. He didn’t want his camp to come across it, or even a fellow player. He could be accused of cheating, or his reputation could be ruined if people found out he needed help to win a tournament.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, taking the folder back and setting it on the table.

“Who’s that you’re talking to?” said a voice in the other part of the room, not visible from the living room area they were standing in. Novak recognized the accent as Spanish, but couldn’t quite place who it was from just the voice. Federer smiled and walked toward the other part of the room, the bedroom, waving him on to follow. When he turned the corner and saw the bed, Nadal was laying there watching TV. Novak looked over to the other side of the bed where there was a clear indention where Federer must’ve been sitting. Suddenly Novak was concerned, was he interrupting something? Was there something more than friendship going on between them?

“Novak!” Rafa said happily, scrambling out of the bed to give him a hug. “You were so good today! Congratulations!”

Novak was a bit overwhelmed by Rafa’s excitement, but grateful nonetheless. When the Spaniard finally pulled away he told Novak that they were just going to pop in a movie, a tennis themed movie, and invited him to join. The Serbian felt kind of awkward, but agreed. He still hadn’t gotten proper congratulations from Federer and wanted to stick around long enough to give him the opportunity. They all climbed onto the bed, which was luckily a humongous king-size. Roger reclaimed his spot on the right side of the bed and Rafa moved to the center, leaving Novak the left side. It was a tight fit, but they all managed to lay out pretty comfortably.

Novak soon found that the movie of choice was Wimbledon, with Kirsten Dunst and Paul Bettany playing professional tennis players. It was entertaining, especially how terrible the actors were at playing tennis. For normal people, their form was quite good, but compared to the three men watching the movie, it was a joke and a very funny one at which they all enjoyed poking fun. The tennis part was great fun to watch, but the romantic bits were dull in comparison. During a particularly long scene with the main couple making dreamy eyes at each other, Rafa fell asleep, snoring lightly.

Novak looked at him strangely. Should they wake him up? Federer noticed his glance and answered it, “He does that sometimes. Uses up all his energy at once then crashes later.” It sounded reasonable, Rafa was always high-energy when Novak had seen him, during matches and at tennis events, but he had to sleep sometime. After listening to Rafa’s heavy breathing, Novak felt the need to close his eyes as well. He fought it off as long as he could, not wanting to fall asleep in Federer’s room…again. But eventually sleep overtook him…

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Federer awoke in the early a.m. hours when he felt Nadal shifting around. The Spaniard seemed to be trying to get out of bed without waking anyone, but he was stuck between them. Roger took pity on him and sat up so Rafa could climb past him. “G’mornin, Fed” he said happily. Roger just grunted in response, watching as Rafa sprinted toward the bathroom. When the Spaniard returned he was full of energy, quite unlike his Swiss friend who was laying down again trying to get more sleep.

“We should go for a run,” Rafa suggested, jogging in place.

“At 4:30? You’re crazy,” Roger mumbled, cuddling into his pillow.

“Maybe. I’ll see you later, Fed. I’m going to go pack up my room,” the Spaniard said, his English not flowing easily so early in the morning. “You play AMRO?”

“No. Pacific Life is my next tourney. You’ll be there?” Roger asked, sitting up slightly.

“Yes. I will see you then, okay?” said Rafa with a smile.

“See you then,” Roger said, collapsing back into bed once his friend had left.

Novak had spread out some since Rafa got up, taking up more of the bed, but not quite intruding on Federer’s space. Roger questioned if he should wake up Novak. He might’ve been comfortable sleeping there when it was the three of them, but just the two of them was different, less innocent somehow. But the new champion looked so peaceful lying there, probably dreaming about the victory that was already his. Ideally he should’ve woken the Serb when Nadal was leaving, to take away some of the awkwardness, but now there was no avoiding the strange situation. Roger decided to let him wake up on his own, trusting his light sleeping habits to wake him as soon as the other man stirred.

It didn’t take long for Novak to wake up, thanks to his phone springing to life on the bedside table, making an awful hollow buzzing noise against the wood. He jumped up and grabbed it, silencing the offending noise. His quick movements shook the bed enough to wake Roger, who began to stir groggily. Novak panicked for a second, having to remind himself why he was still wearing his after-matches sweats and more importantly, in bed with Roger Federer.

“Where’s Rafa?” Novak asked, noticing the absence of the energetic Spaniard.

“Packing. He had an early flight to Majorca,” Roger said simply. He wasn’t sure what to say to the younger man, who was obviously freaking out.

“Well I guess I’d better go too,” Novak said, gathering his things quickly. He was almost to the door when Federer stopped him. “Wait,” he said softly, and there was a hand on his arm holding him in place. It wasn’t hard or painful, just insistent, begging him to listen. He turned to face the man who stopped him. Roger’s eyes locked with his, willing him to stay for a moment longer.

“I never got the chance to congratulate you,” Roger said with a smile, though Novak could tell he was forcing the words, not because he didn’t mean them, but because it wasn’t like him to often give praise. “That was quite a comeback you pulled off yesterday. Not many players could fight back from a set down in a Grand Slam final.”

Novak hadn’t thought of it that way. When he lost the first set, he just thought ‘I’ll just win it in four sets now instead of three.’ He never considered losing. “Thanks, it took me awhile to find my game,” Novak admitted.

“I knew you could win if you trusted your game,” Roger said encouragingly. Novak smiled as his mind flashed to the Roger in the stands, encouraging him with very similar words. It wasn’t until Roger noticed the glazed over look in his eyes and spoke again that Novak returned to reality. “You’re one of us now,” he said kindly, leaving Novak to wonder what ‘us’ he was a part of now.

Novak earned a place among the greats as a Grand Slam champion, he won that honor yesterday, but Nole couldn’t help but feel Federer was referring to another group as well, one perhaps even more exclusive, one he might’ve joined last night. Novak smiled genuinely, sensing Federer had said all he needed to, he asked, “See you at Pacific Life?”

Roger smiled, not at all surprised Djokovic knew he would be there. It was common for players to know his schedule, sometimes even plan around it. Not everybody dreamed of playing Federer in the finals with prize money on the line. “See you there,” he said, opening the door and watching the Serb leave, closing the door behind him.

“Nothing to do but pack,” Roger said to himself, gathering his belongings and stuffing them into a suitcase. He could organize it better once he got home. For now, he needed to hurry so he wouldn’t miss his flight.

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Novak spent the next week doing interviews and press. The interviewers were acting like it was a big surprise when he won, several reporters admitting they didn’t think he had it in him. It was kind of disheartening, hearing people have such doubts about his career, some of them experts too. There were bright moments in the interviews though, some of them of his own creation. In nearly every interview his match with Federer was mentioned, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He wasn’t being arrogant, like the reporters would surely assume, he was smirking because they were trying to get a reaction out of him. They wanted him to say something awful about Federer like he usually does, everyone on the tour knows them to be at odds, but Novak offered subtle praise and sympathy.

He made an effort not to be too nice, knowing that would give something away to the media. The best part of being on good terms with Roger now is that nobody knows. There is something brilliant about a secret between friends, perhaps no greater fun than it. Once the last of the interviews were completed, Novak could finally go home to Serbia for a week before flying off to the next tournament site. The flight was tiresome and dull, but Novak couldn’t fall asleep. He texted Andy Murray and hoped that his friend wasn’t too busy to chat. They didn’t get much of a chance to say goodbye before heading out their separate ways and Novak felt a pang of guilt. Andy was among those he kicked out of his room so he could sneak off to visit Federer.

“Hey mate. You finally done with press?” was the Brit’s response to his casual hello.

“Yeah. Tennis Channel this morning was my last. How’s London?”

“Cool and rainy. Refreshing after Melbourne. You heading back to Monaco or Serbia?”

“Serbia. It’s Djordje’s bday soon so we’re celebrating before I leave for AMRO.”

“Nice interview. You didn’t fall into their trap, for once.”

Novak looked at his phone questioningly, as if it had made up that last message. What was Murray talking about? They just talked about his interviews.

“So you’re playing AMRO? We should meet up a few days before to hit.”

Novak stared at his phone again. That was the response he had expected, but what was with the other one? Novak scrolled through his messages and looked it over again, noticing this time it wasn’t from Murray, it was from Roger. Novak couldn’t help but smile, even though he didn’t know what Roger was talking about.

“Do I usually fall into their trap?” he responding, heavily considering adding a smiley face.

“Almost always,” came floating back to him. Novak understood now, Roger was talking about the reporters from earlier, and how they tried to get a negative response out of him.

“I never noticed they did that before today,” he wrote honestly. The press always liked him because he was known to say outrageous things, but Novak never considered that they set up those opportunities.

“Yeah. You seem to be their favorite target,” he wrote in a seemingly playful way. He wasn’t scolding the Serb, just saying what nobody else did.

“Not anymore. I’m nice from now on,” Novak joked. He could try, but that probably wouldn’t happen considering how much effort he had to put into filtering himself for the interview that day.

“Not too nice. Then you wouldn’t be Novak :)”

Djokovic grinned. He may be a jerk sometimes, but Federer doesn’t seem to mind, as long as it’s not directed at him.

“Maybe I just be nice to you =]” Novak replied, finally giving into the urge to add a smiley. Federer did it first after all.

“What fun would that be?” Roger replied, making Novak smile.

Novak finally replied to Andy, who had been waiting almost half an hour for a response. “Sure thing. I get there on Wednesday. Text me then.”

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A/N: So I'm trying to figure out if there is an audience for tennis slash here on adult fanfiction. I have some more chapters that I posted on other sites, but if there isn't anyone reading, no point in posting. Right? So if you dig this let me know and I'll keep updating!
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When Enemies Attract