ATP (Dominic Thiem, Andrey Rublev, and Casper Rudd) One-Shots

Thiem: I Was Looking At You

"What?" I asked softly. My chin was on Thiem's chest and I could see thoughts whirling around in his eyes. 

He looked down at me, his cheeks tinted pink. "Hmmm?"

"What are you thinking about?" His eyes scanned my face, before pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. 

"I'm thinking about you," he whispered with a smile, "I'm thinking about how my match could end tomorrow."

"Yeah?" I laughed, propping myself up on my elbows, "Already thinking about holding the trophy in your hands?"

"Shhh, don't jinx it. Leave any talks about winning aside," he laughed, before caressing my cheek, "I'm thinking about how cute you'll look in my box and how I'll run to you after the match. "

I pinched my eyebrows, before shaking my head, "Domi, no, hopefully not first," I laughed lightly, my eyes bouncing between his. His eyes were glossed in seriousness, though his face was soft and sappy. "Hopefully not first," I repeated. 

"Why not?" he whispered, his pads of his fingers drawing light circles my arms. 

"Domi," I mumbled, pushing the hair out of his face, "You owe it to your team first, and your parents, and your brother, you can't forget him," I laughed, "I want the people who have been there for you from the start first. It's their celebration too."

"But it's yours as well now too, you know that right?" I must have had an unconvinced look on my face, because he pulled me closer, kissing my nose. "It's yours too Mia."

Dragging my teeth between my lips, I nodded, "Just promise me you'll hug your team first."

"I promise," he said, sticking out his pinkie. I took his in mine and we kissed our hands, before I snuggled into his side. 

A few moments passed, our breathing synced and thinking about the outcomes of tomorrow's match. 

"Mia?"

"Hmmm?"

He shifted, turning on his side to look at me, "I'm really glad you'll be sitting in my box tomorrow. I know people will talk afterwards, but it means a lot you'll be there for me."

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. It'll be a bit better than the bleacher seats, which were okay because I could get up and move around," I laugh, watching his face distort. 

"I still can't believe I let you pick those seats, the box would have been much better."

I laugh, "I'm just superstitious, you know that. I was nervous I'd maybe through off your game or something."

"Oh, but you'll make the Roland-Garros Final the exception. I know who I'm blaming if I lose."

I shoved him lightly, "Fine, I won't come," I joked. 

He rolled over, trapping me under himself, his long bangs grazing my forehead. He leaned forward, brushing his nose against mine, "I'd withdraw."

I was going to reply that he wouldn't, but the words got caught in my throat looking into his eyes. They were dark, but soft. I took a deep breath in, bumping my nose against his too. "I wouldn't ever let you do that Domi. No matter the outcome, I know you're going to give it your all and that, Domi, will always be enough."

_____________________

We were getting dressed in the hotel for the big day. Domi was in his practice clothes, on his way out the door. 

I picked up his duffel-bag and put it in his hands, letting his 6'1" stature tower over me. I can already see the nervousness in his eyes, and when I grab his hand, I feel him already shaking.