Chapter Text
Rafael Nadal sighed, and angrily shoved his fists in his slacks’ pockets. He was always uncomfortable at these official things, and tonight’s dinner was no different. He had seriously considered skipping the whole event, but the only thing it had gained him had been a severe scolding from Tio Toni and a lecture about how important these charity galas were for his image and that representatives from all his sponsors would be there and would expect to see him. So he had put on his (slightly wrinkled) tuxedo and reluctantly let his uncle drag him to the party. He got bored ten minutes in. A couple of hours later, he had had to help Fernando put a (rather alarmingly) drunk Feliciano into a cab, and had felt a serious wave of envy as he watched his two countrymen escape the premises. After that, he kind of hanged out awkwardly in a corner of the room, trying to avoid being spotted by the chatty Nike representative. He was really starting to fall asleep with boredom, but couldn’t think of anybody he particularly wanted to talk to. Toni was at the bar, discussing some serious matter with a tournament director (the mere thought of joining in made Rafa’s toes curl into his barely worn dress shoes) and David Ferrer was so wrapped up in his girlfriend, whom he was just reunited with after three weeks of separation, that Rafa had felt bad interrupting them earlier. No other Spaniard was present this night, and Rafa didn’t feel like bothering with English. What he would actually have had wanted was to just tag along at Roger’s side, and let him do the talking for the both of them whenever somebody came near, while admiring the elegant curve of his lover’s neck and the way his luscious brown hair curled gently against the collar of his crisp white shirt. But he knew Toni would have a stroke if he came within a mile radius of the Swiss in public. Rafa had protested grumpily that ignoring his fellow player just fuelled the media’s rumours about the whole they-can’t-stand-each-other thingy, but Toni had looked grim and told him that, until he learned how to control his love-sick looks, it was the only option. Rafa had gotten bright red at that, and let the matter drop entirely.
Rafa finally spotted an empty table with a huge flowerpot resting in the centre, and dropped in a chair contentedly. He swiftly rearranged the leaves in front of his face to stay out of the line of sight of the major part of the room while keeping a good view himself. People were mingling happily, in a formal-yet-quite-laid-back atmosphere (the champagne had definitively helped with the latter). The players were loudly calling out to each other, a drink in hand, their spouses firmly planted by their side, or on the contrary, fleeing from the boisterous tennismen and women. There were several kids running around, playing with each other, completely disregarding the language barriers.
Rafa rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was starting to relax a little, when he was startled by a beautiful, blond woman in a red dress sliding in the chair next to him. She looked strangely familiar. He swallowed a small groan when he realised where he knew her from. She worked for an American magazine, the name of which he couldn’t remember for the life of him. Press wasn’t invited to the dinner, which indicated she was probably someone’s plus one, but Rafa knew better than assuming that meant she wouldn’t jump on the opportunity to make the evening profitable for her job.
‘Nice party isn’t it?’ she said in a bubbly tone.
He gave a noncommittal grunt.
‘Here with anyone?’ she added sweetly, making huge doe eyes at him. He resisted the instinct to roll his own eyes. Did she seriously think she was being subtle? He never talked about his relationship status to the media, he wasn’t about to start now. He cleared his throat awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to ignore her, when he felt a hand punch his shoulder playfully.
‘Hey Rafa’, exclaimed Serena Williams jovially. ‘What are you up to? Long time no see!’
‘Hum…’
‘Yeah, you have got to come get a drink with us!’ insisted Caroline Wozniacki, grabbing his forearm and dragging him to his feet. ‘You don’t mind if we borrow him for a while, do you?’ she added in the direction of the journalist, and then proceeded to pull Rafa away from the table without waiting for an answer.
‘You’re welcome’, she said with a big smile once they got out of the blond woman’s sight and were all sited around a new table.
‘Qué?’ Rafa blurted, completely lost.
‘We figured you might appreciate some help’, Serena chuckled. ‘This woman is a total leech, we couldn’t just leave you there in good conscience.’
‘Sí, thank you’, the Spaniard muttered, blushing a little. Serena grinned and patted him on the elbow, before returning to her conversation with Caroline.
Rafa was relieved to let the girls do the chatting from that point, and just nodded from time to time to make it look like he was interested (even if, to be completely honest, he didn’t understand precisely everything that was being said, between the tipsy giggles and the unfamiliar slang words). He once more lost track of Caroline’s tale of an afternoon she had apparently spent watching Netflix and, relaxing with someone (Sí ?), when they were interrupted by the sound of a child crying. They all simultaneously turned in the direction the noise was coming from, and spotted a little girl with long blond hair running towards the table. Rafa felt his stomach drop in his shoes.
‘Isn’t that Fed’s kid?’ asked Caroline. Serena quickly nodded, before leaning in.
‘What’s wrong, sweetie?’ she inquired in a gentle voice. ‘Aw, you hurt your knee?’ she added as the girl came closer and they all noticed the droplets of blood trickling down her leg.
The kid totally ignored her, and kept on walking, bawling her eyes out. ‘Rafaaaaa!’ she gasped, and threw herself against the Spaniard’s legs.
Rafa swallowed and felt like there was a big lump in his throat. He looked around as the girl was hiccupping broken sentences in Spanish, and reached for her and settled her on his lap. He kissed her forehead a couple of times and whispered soothing words in a low voice while stroking her hair delicately. She buried her tear-streaked face in his shirt, but seemed to calm down after a few minutes. Caroline and Serena exchanged serious looks. What the hell was going on? The American had a million questions going through her mind, but spotting Rafa’s expression of pure distress, she chose to put them aside for the time being.
‘You think we can take a look at that knee now, sweetheart?’ she cooed.
The little girl turned her face towards her, and then looked up hesitantly at Rafa. Serena’s heart broke a little at the look he gave the child before smiling softly and nodding. The girl moved her dark green dress out of the way and showed the scratch to the three adults around her.
‘Aw, what a gash that is!’ whistled Caroline. ‘You’re quite the little adventurer, aren’t you?’
The girl giggled through the last of her tears, and threw a glance at Rafa again, who planted another kiss on the top of her head.
‘Well we will need to clean that, won’t we?’ added the Dane. ‘But I’m sure a big girl like you is really brave and won’t get scared at all!’ She winked, and the kid gave her a toothy smile.
Serena quickly went through her clutch, and took out a small bottle of saline solution, and a pack of Kleenex.
‘There’, she said, putting some of the liquid on a tissue, and reaching for the girl’s leg. However, she was stopped by Rafa, who took it from her hands and started cleaning the wound himself.
The kid made a face and gritted her teeth at the contact, but kept quiet.
‘I don’t think I have any band-aids though…’ the American sighed. ‘Caro?’ Caroline shook her head.
‘Is ok’, Rafa said softly. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, and pulled out a red band-aid with little reindeers printed on it. He removed the protective part and applied it gently.
The girls couldn’t supress their surprised looks.
The young man shrugged. ‘Not first time it happens, sí?’ was all the explanation he gave, as he resumed stroking the kid’s hair.
The little girl was in a much better mood now. She hanged herself on Rafa’s neck, and started talking his ear off in rapid and enthusiastic Spanish, while he smiled at her with such a look of adoration on his face that Serena had to turn away, somehow feeling she was intruding on something extremely private and precious.