Ricardo Rodriguez watches mutely as his employer storms through the Smackdown halls, his anger pulsing off of him like a visible entity, his entire body tense and ready to attack at one wrong move. It hurts to watch him, it hurts to walk in his wake, everything hurts. Especially his feet, which only have socks to protect them from the arena floor, since Alberto had taken his shoes to attack Sheamus with earlier in the night. He closes his eyes and looks down at the uneven concrete, wishing things were easier. Different. That Alberto didn't look at him with such disdain so often. That he could do something to please the older man, make him truly happy. But he had already been trying for years and he doubts things will ever change, that he could ever fully be what Alberto wants or needs.
So he takes a deep breath and holds his chin up high as he follows Alberto out of the arena to the car, quiet and fighting to keep his composure as he slips behind the steering wheel and checks the rearview mirror as his employer settles in the backseat, glaring down at his phone. Neither man say a word as they drive back to the hotel, Ricardo almost relieved for the comforting quiet. Del Rio is lost in thoughts about his unending World title hunt, and Ricardo can barely find the strength to pull his eyes off of the road, the spedometer, the blur of the streetlights overhead until they arrive at the hotel and he has no choice.
Things continue on under a false sense of normalcy for the next few days, the ring announcer trying to appear normal as he helps Sofia and the other staff around the house, making sure everything is running as it should so Alberto has nothing to distract him from media events, autograph signings and his politicking to keep his spot in the long list of challengers for the World title match. He knows Sofia senses something is off with him, her smile this side of sympathetic as he helps her change a lightbulb in the guest bedroom, but he only smiles back before moving onto the next thing, relieved when the housekeeper doesn't question him about the funk he's in, only hugging him before he heads off to bed once the to-do list is completed.
That Monday, Alberto has a tag team match with Ziggler and Ricardo hangs around on the outside, watching closely as they tag in as needed, but it's when Ricardo tries to help that things go wrong and their team loses, Alberto ignoring him hurting more than any anger or insults he could direct at him. "Lo siento," he mutters, staring down at the keys as they walk to the car. Del Rio continues to ignore him and Ricardo looks up, tears in his eyes as his self-esteem takes yet another hit, even more certain that he's about to lose his job. At least I have my shoes still this time, he thinks morosely, wiggling his toes inside of them. He pauses only long enough to wipe his eyes before getting behind the steering wheel to once more drive them to the evening's hotel, the repetitive actions of their life on the road slowly grinding at him.
When they return to Florida for the next few days until Smackdown comes around again, Ricardo is relieved to be home, to see Sofia's soft smile and sympathetic gaze, her fingers stroking his hair back. "Gracias," he tells her, leaning into her touch. "I'm happy to see you, Sofia." The two co-workers step aside as Alberto storms through the house to his bedroom, clearly far from happy with his career, his life, everything.
Ricardo sighs, his eyes locked on the carpet, until Sofia reaches out and lifts his face so she can look him in the eye. "It's going to be alright, senor." She smiles sadly at him. "Come, I will get you something to drink and you can go rest." He's about to protest and she shakes her finger at him. "Senor Del Rio will be in there for awhile, I will cover for you if need be, but you need rest as well. Go, take the chance while you can. Everything will work out."
"Gracias, Sofia," he tells her, hugging her before going to do just that, his sadness weighing him down almost as much as his exhaustion when he lays down. Insomnia makes it hard enough to sleep, but listening to Alberto breathe from across the room and wishing for more is what truly leaves him staring at the ceiling for hours.
The next few days for Ricardo are spent running errands, making sure that bills are paid, shelves are stocked, and Sofia and the other staff members will have everything they need while Alberto and Ricardo will be traveling this coming weekend. On Friday morning, things are quiet as they had gotten everything together for traveling to Smackdown the night before, Alberto still resting in his room, so Ricardo takes the opportunity to pull out his iPad and look up things that socia medial sites are saying about him or Alberto. He scrolls through the usual pointless insults and complaints, interview mentions and different articles, when something catches his eye and he stops short, scrolling back up to see it. "Que?" It's a recent interview, from only a couple of hours ago, and Ricardo closes his eyes, his lips twisting as he releases a breath and reads the words again. "It's inevitable that our working relationship will come to an end?"
The very thought of it hurts more than any pain he'd ever felt before, including any attack he'd taken on Alberto's behalf, that his employer could speak so simply about their time together ending. He quietly turns the iPad off and lays it down on his dresser, settling back against his pillows and staring out of the windows as he ponders those words and what it could possibly mean for his future, professionally and personally. He can't imagine his life without Alberto, without Sofia, without anything else this job has given him. He sniffs and wipes at his eyes, once more forcing himself to his feet to get ready to leave for the airport for Smackdown.
They only talk when needed, Ricardo clinging to their luggage to keep up the appearance that he's too busy to talk, certain that if he did, he'd either start crying for real, or all of the questions and confusion he has would pour out of his lips and ruin things even further between them. So he keeps his lips pressed tightly together as he follows Alberto through the airport, through the parking lot, through the arena. Sets things down in the locker room and stands at attention while his employer stretches, prepares for his scheduled match against Kane that night. He counts his breaths, trying not to reveal how Alberto's lack of notice towards anything he does eats at him. When Alberto motions for him, he walks over and pats him dry with a towel, trying not to dwell on the warmth of Alberto's skin, how dark his eyes are.
Alberto turns sharply, allowing Ricardo room to wrap his scarf lightly around his shoulders, adjusting it so it rests perfectly against his chest. Holds his hand out as Ricardo rests the keys in his palm, obligingly following him out to the entrance where the car of the night waits patiently, Ricardo heading up to the gorilla position so he can head for the ring to announce Alberto properly, ensuring that Tony Chimel wouldn't get any ideas. He acts his role to the hilt, smug and condescending to the audience members who yell out at him and Alberto, jumping slightly and fighting every instinct to grip Alberto when Kane's flames forewarn his arrival.
The entire match is terrifying, nerve-wracking. Ricardo can only imagine the kind of injuries Kane could cause, even to someone with Alberto's ability. This causes Ricardo to successfully distract Kane and keep him from attaining victory, pleased with himself as he mocks the audience for their reaction to it, not noticing that he's too close to the ring apron until thick fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him up by the roots, agony coursing through his scalp until he's up on the apron, struggling to get away from Kane's iron grip around his neck, when there's a flash of black to the side and- Alberto's there, Alberto's gripping Kane, hitting the backcracker on him and Ricardo's free, collapsing against the solid support of the apron, gasping and gagging as he grips his throat, trying to swallow down oxygen to correct the burning in his lungs.
He's still struggling when Alberto wins, Ricardo sinking in relief to the floor for a moment before forcing himself back up to lift Alberto's arm in celebration, his breathing still ragged and shaky. He can tell when Alberto's eyes flicker towards him, examining the faint marks on his flesh, and even just this little amount of attention warms him. They stagger up to the top of the ramp, Alberto collapsing to one knee as Ricardo approaches him, hugging him in thankfulness- that he had won, that he had saved him from Kane's anger. That, for now, everything is ok. That they're still together, no matter how the weight of that interview still hangs over his head.
Things start to feel normal again that weekend, Alberto even talking to him randomly about non-professional things. Sports and the wait staff of the hotel, even discusses an upcoming autograph session with him, laughing about some stupid scheduling conflict that he had had amused himself with imagining those involved arguing over who would get to lay claim to him first. Ricardo clings to each of these moments, imprinting them to his memory just in case things will end sooner rather than later, not wanting to forget the Mexican aristocrat's laughter, his rare sincere smile. The look on his face when he's happy or accomplished.
He can't bring himself to hope that Alberto has changed his mind after that interview, that they will be ok, but he had never let such things get in the way of his duties in the past. So he keeps his game face on, accompanies him out to the ring to do commentary during Sheamus' match, the two of them whispering and talking amongst themselves once the match is over and Sheamus is alone in the ring. Alberto motions and gets to his feet, the two of them rushing the ring. Ricardo tries to distract the Irish competitor but it doesn't help, Sheamus able to recover and get the upperhand on Alberto, beating him down. He's about to go for a Brogue Kick, he's about to smash Alberto's face in with his boot, and all Ricardo can see from where he's crouched on the ring apron is Alberto's smile, the determination in his eyes when he speaks of being World champion. He can't allow this opportunity to be ruined for him, not by an injury, not now.
So he struggles into the ring, lunges forward and pushes Alberto out of the way, but before he can make sure that the older man is ok, that he'd successfully protected him like Alberto had for him against Kane only days ago, there's a sharp impact to the side of his head... and everything goes dark. Ricardo knows nothing, floating in a sea of discomfort and fear. For himself, for Alberto. He's not sure how much time has gone by, minutes... hours... years... eternities... if he'll ever be free, but finally his eyes open sluggishly, drawn by a familiar voice, a welcome touch on the side of his face. He wants to speak but everything hurts, radiating from his head and neck, and he can barely lift his hand to grip onto Alberto's arm, needing that touch so much that everything else is meaningless. Fingers continue to clasp his jaw, worried, brown eyes peering into his face, and Ricardo shudders painfully, wishing he could understand what Alberto is saying over the buzzing in his ears.
He's not sure what happens from there, only able to focus on Alberto's warmth against his side, but he's jostled and lifted, moved and shifted around, the pain ratcheting up with every second, until finally he passes out again. When he wakes up again, he's in the trainer's room and he's alone. But it's brief, dark eyes flickering to the door as it opens, an agitated Alberto rushing back in, muttering angrily about interviewers and their bad timing, when he realizes that Ricardo is staring at him. When he speaks, Ricardo is relieved that he can hear him this time, missing the sound of his voice. "Mi amigo," he breathes, rushing over to him once the trainer moves away. "What were you thinking? Huh? Why would you do that?" Ricardo can't find the words, staring up at him blankly, and Alberto sighs, a look in his eyes that surprises Ricardo.
"Don't be scared, El Patron. Your- your title opportunity, I won't ruin it. I won't let... let anything ruin it," he promises weakly, his fingers twitching as he once more wants to touch his employer, feel his steadying warmth beneath his hands.
Alberto stares down at him for a long moment, that expression on his face fading away, replaced with something else that Ricardo can't even read. "But titles mean nothing, mi amigo, if you're hurt in the process," he murmurs, resting his hand atop Ricardo's, granting him that which he'd always longed for but could barely find a reason to indulge in without angering the other man, or risking his truth coming out.
Ricardo sniffs, surprised by his words and unable to weigh the sincerity behind them properly as his pain and exhaustion leaves him groggy and weak. "El Patron..."
"It's ok," he says, squeezing his fingers. "It's ok. Close your eyes, rest. Everything will be alright. I promise." Ricardo stares at him for a moment before accepting his encouragement, breathing in and out slowly as he falls back asleep, soothed by the warmth of Alberto's hand. He's not asleep for long, however, when the sounds of hissed arguing breaks through his mental fog, dragging him back into consciousness, frightful and desperate to fix things.
"El Patron," he calls out, trying to sit up. It hurts, causing him to blank on everything until warm hands rest on his shoulders, pushing him back down against the bed. "El Pa-"
"It's ok, it's ok, lo siento, lo siento, I didn't mean to wake you up like this," Alberto's voice murmurs. "But I suppose it's just as well. Mi amigo, I have to stay here, I have a match against Cena shortly, but the trainer is recommending you be transported to a hospital for a more thorough examination." Ricardo blinks sleepily up at him, confused. "It's up to you, amigo. I just want you to feel safe, si? What do you think, stay here until I'm done, or go to the hospital now?"
He's disoriented but it's a pretty clear choice. The last thing he wants is to be a distraction to Alberto in his upcoming street fight against Cena so he breathes out, "I'll be ok at the hospital, El Patron. Focus on defeating Cena. I will be in good hands until you arrive."
Alberto sighs and wraps his arms around Ricardo, careful and surprisingly gentle, considering. "Gracias, mi amigo. I'll see you soon, si? Rest. And don't be scared. I'll be at the hospital as soon as I destroy that perro, Cena."
"Si," Ricardo breathes, closing his eyes. He listens, lips twitching up into a tired smile, as Alberto once more rounds on the trainer and his staff, hissing to them yet again. Words like careful and make sure he's comfortable and a few other, blurred demands breaking through his pain. Alberto rarely thinks beyond himself but when he does, he's vicious and definitely someone you'd want in your corner. Ricardo is so thankful for this fact right now. He's almost asleep when Alberto's hand rests on his forehead, lightly stroking his mussed hair between his fingers. "El Patron."
"Mm hmm. I'll see you soon, mi amigo." He pats his forehead a few more times before pulling away and leaving the room to prepare for his match.
As soon as the door clicks behind him, Ricardo sighs lowly and waits for the pain of being transported to once more shoot through his abused body. Thankfully it's not as bad as he'd expected, his stressed body remaining in a half-doze that he can't quite fight through as he's examined, tested... x-ray'd. IVs are pressed into his arm to keep him hydrated, his heart monitor beeps steadily and he tries to be comforted by the regularity of it all, the nurses and doctors seeming far from worried as they wander around his bed, checking this, examining that. He can hear them talking, soft, calm murmurs, and wishes he could turn his head, seek out the voice of Alberto. But Alberto isn't there, he can tell by the stagnant feel of the air around him that in no way could contain Alberto's presence. When this changes, he can sense it, a small smile flitting across his face as warm fingers circle around his wrist, squeezing gently.
He still can't open his eyes but it doesn't dissuade his employer, the older man leaning towards him to whisper into his ear. "I'm here, mi amigo. I'm going to be keeping a close eye on things until they release you into my care. Just rest, I'll see what I can find out and then we'll decide what to do from there."
Alberto is gone more often than not, busy with preparing a lawsuit with the help of David Otunga, so Ricardo spends most of his time in the hospital resting or watching crap TV to the best of his ability as he can't turn his head or much else. Tests prove that nothing's broken, but the injuries he does have are serious enough to warrant his staying in a neck brace for the foreseeable future. After they're told this, Ricardo winces and grips his hand to his neck, unable to touch it because of the rough material there to protect him. An uncomfortable sleep finds him eventually, and leaves him all too quickly when Alberto lightly nudges him. He opens his eyes, frowning up at his employer. There's a tense frown on Del Rio's face as he hovers over him, holding his iPad out to him. "Wha- what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong..." He swallows, staring into Ricardo's eyes. "This article, it talks about managers who branch away from their employers, and... it mentions you." Alberto looks away for a minute. "Mi amigo, would that... be something you would want? To have a career of your own unattached to mine or anyone else's?"
The words on the screen make no sense, the things Alberto is saying even less, and Ricardo grimaces in confusion, echoes of memory returning to him from Alberto's interview days ago. "I don't... I don't... Que?"
Something seems to register with Del Rio and he shakes his head, turning the iPad off. He lays it down on the table and leans closer to Ricardo, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Never mind, mi amigo. Never mind. Lo siento, it's just me being ridiculous." He smiles sadly. "Go back to sleep."
"Are you sure?" Ricardo whispers, watching as Alberto nods. "If you need something, I'll try- I'll..."
"No, no, I don't need anything but you to rest and get well, mi amigo." Alberto strokes his arm until he relaxes and closes his eyes, breathing steadily. When he wakes again, hours have passed and Alberto is kneeling close to him, his eyes lighting up when he realizes he's awake. "Amigo, guess what? We have good news."
Ricardo blinks, struggles to focus on him. "Hm, what?" he slurs, exhausted and so sleepy that it almost hurts.
"The nurse just told me, if a couple more tests come back alright, they're going to release you in the morning." He smiles as Ricardo stares at him. "We'll get you home, and Sofia will take good care of you, and everything will return to normal. Our usual doctor will examine you, and we'll get you well on the road to recovery. I promise."
Ricardo licks his lips. "I can come with you to Smackdown then," he says quietly, eyes already closing.
"Wha-? Mi amigo, no, really-" But before Alberto could continue arguing against his idea, Ricardo slips, sinks under the weight of sleep.
In the end, Ricardo's discomfort keeps Alberto from arguing too much with him, wanting to make things easier on him, keep an eye on him in the beginning stages of his recovery. When he's released from the hospital, Alberto obliges him, changing their flights to the nearest airport to where Smackdown is being held that week. The main thing he wants to accomplish is getting the Brogue kick banned, and as soon as Ricardo finds out, he's all over the thought, trying to help Otunga and him with a game plan, insisting on joining them in the ring, no matter how miserable he is in his neck brace, barely able to walk down the entrance ramp without help since he can't move his neck. They say their piece in the ring, Alberto keeping a close eye on Ricardo while Otunga talks. They show x-rays, they explain Ricardo's condition, they do all that they can even when Otunga is placed in a match against Sheamus.
Ricardo wants to accompany them to ringside for that too but Alberto examines how pale and exhausted he is, sweat beading on his forehead just from standing in the ring under those hot lights for not even ten minutes. "No, no, amigo, it's fine. Stay here, por favor. Rest. Everything will be just fine. You've done all I require of you tonight. I want you to take care of yourself. Si?"
Ricarrdo looks hesitant, but ultimately nods. "Si, alright, whatever you want, El Patron," he sighs. He hates not being able to help, not being at Alberto's side, but he supposes if his role out at ringside serves no purpose then he may as well remain in the trainer's office, catch his breath so he'll be a little more put together to help Alberto and Otunga afterwards. He's sitting there when Booker interrupts before the match to announce after careful consideration and weighing the neck scans and everything else provided to him this evening that, yes, he'll be banning the Brogue Kick. He breathes a little easier throughout the match.
Otunga is beat up after losing the match, Alberto is agitated, but Ricardo can't help the relief that at least the kick is gone, certain that Alberto will be able to find an easy way to outmaneuver anything else Sheamus uses in his move set. Del Rio's hand is warm on his shoulder as he follows them out of the arena, Otunga massaging his own back as he and Alberto discuss the trial once Ricardo is settled in the car. He can hear their voices through the window, the faint murmurs relaxing him and sending him towards sleep, his body exhausted from all of the standing and walking and everything else, extraordinarily taxing on him after days spent in that hospital bed. He jerks awake when Alberto opens the door, slips into the driver's side, and turns to face him. "Lo siento, mi amigo, I didn't mean to wake you up." He strokes Ricardo's shoulder, smiling at him. "Doze back off, I'll wake you when we arrive at the hotel."
"I'm ok," he says tiredly. "I can stay awake."
"Maybe you can, but you don't have to," Alberto tells him. "Close your eyes. I know how the sound of my car engines relax me. Which if anyone needs that right now, it's you. Go ahead."
Ricardo frowns but listens, breathing steadily as Alberto turns the car onto the road and drives, the drone of the engine easing him. He drifts until the car pulls off of the road, eases to a slow stop in the hotel parking lot. He can feel Alberto staring at him, the weight of his gaze leaving the ring announcer warm, comforted further somehow. He absorbs it for as long as he dares before yawning and forcing his eyes open, staring back at Alberto. He flushes slightly, feeling something pass between them, but he's pretty sure he's just imagining it when Del Rio quickly looks away. "El Patron?"
"We've arrived, amigo. I'll help you out of the car, uno momento." It takes less than that, Ricardo barely blinks and Alberto's by his side, leaning in to help him find his feet while he tries to wipe the sleep out of his eyes with a barely coordinated swipe. "Come, come, stand right here, I'll be back with our bags."
Ricardo pauses. "Eh, El Patron, I can get them-"
"No, no, mi amigo, not while you can barely stand straight as it is. I'm fine with handling it for now." Ricardo still looks hesitant, not wanting to slack on his duties, and Alberto cups his face. "Listen to me, you are still doing plenty for me. All I require from you is to recover, si? I won't risk that on dragging bags around a few times."
"Alright," he says reluctantly. "As soon as the doctors say I can lift again, I'll stop being so useless-" His words die away when Alberto's fingers dig into his face, his eyes widening.
"You're not useless, amigo. Never say that, si? Most people would gladly take medical leave and stay at home, but instead you insisted on coming with to try to ban the Brogue Kick, and look, here we are, that senseless wrestling move is gone, and my prospects towards winning the World title is finally looking up. I'm sorry that you had to be injured just for us to reach this point, but I'm thankful that you're here, to witness my potential victory first hand. It's the least of what you deserve." Ricardo doesn't say anything, his eyes half-lidded as Alberto absently strokes his face. "Alright, well, mi amigo, let's get you inside so you can get some real sleep not scrunched up in my car, hmm?"
"Alright," he says faintly, sighing as Alberto grabs their bags out of the car and leads him towards the building. The weekend passes quietly, Ricardo taking advantage of Alberto's suggestion and just resting, sleeping most of the time or gazing at the TV as it drones on, only waking up now and again to eat or sip whatever Alberto offers him, relieved when it's painkillers. He wakes up on Sunday afternoon to another hissed argument between Otunga and Alberto, struggling to sit up. "El Patron?"
"SHHHH!" Alberto snaps at Otunga, but it's meaningless. Ricardo's far from getting back to sleep now so Alberto sighs and joins him, helping to untangle him from the sheets. "It's ok, mi amigo. Go back to sleep. We're merely disagreeing about something to do with the civil suit. I'll discuss it with you later."
"No, no," Ricardo mumbles, rubbing sleep out of his eyes yet again. "Por favor, El Patron. You're upset. Tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help you figure things out?"
Alberto sighs. "Fine, amigo. Fine." He glares over at Otunga for a moment before facing his best friend once more. "They want us in Stamford for a deposition, Ricardo, on Monday before Raw. I'm trying to reschedule to when you're in less pain, but so far that perro Sheamus' lawyer is insisting it be held then to not take up any more of Sheamus' precious time." Ricardo swallows hard, his eyes flickering down at the bed, and Alberto leans forward, cupping his jaw. "Mi amigo, we can continue to try to change the time... but it looks like we will need to go to headquarters."
"It's fine," he says weakly. "I'll be alright, El Patron. I can do this." Their eyes lock, Ricardo absorbing strength from him. "I promise."
Alberto stares at him, nodding slowly. "Alright, Ricardo. I believe you. And I will be by your side every step of the way." He pats his arms, squeezes his shoulder and moves aside to continue discussing things with Otunga, Ricardo absently tapping his heels against the side of the bed as he ponders the deposition, what he's going to have to say or do.
The flight to Connecticut is long, tense. Ricardo stares at what he can see of his hands, trying not to reveal just how anxious he really is, how worried and scared. He feels like if he speaks, he could throw up, which isn't helped at all by the limited mobility he has in his neck thanks to the brace. Thankfully Alberto is so busy talking with Otunga that he sits in silence and stares blankly ahead, trying to control his breathing most of the flight. They're just about to land when Del Rio rejoins him, clapping his hand on his knee. "Are you ok, mi amigo? You look pale." Ricardo still doesn't want to risk opening his mouth so he nods as best as he can with the neck brace on, which isn't much, and Alberto frowns. "Just breathe, Ricardo. It'll be over soon. I'm here for you. That perro won't dare touch you, I will make him regret it until his last breath."
The ring announcer releases a shaky, deep breath. "Gracias, El Patron."
They sit side by side through the plane's landing, Alberto's hand warm on Ricardo's knee. When they move to depart, Ricardo squeezes Alberto's hand before he can move away, forcing a smile. Alberto stares at him, glancing down at his hand, before squeezing back with a smile of his own. "Let's get this over with, hm, mi amigo?"
"Si," he sighs. But it's not that simple. They discover when they arrive that Alberto's not allowed into the board room, so it's just Ricardo, Otunga, Sheamus, his lawyer, the mediator, and the camera filming everything. The depo seems to drag on forever, Ricardo saying very little as Otunga tries to defuse his client's tension, keep Sheamus away when he looks too closely at the cowered ring announcer. But Ricardo's fear is proven founded when Sheamus decides to give them a little demonstration, Brogue Kicking the camera and shattering it into pieces, sending the lawyer and mediator flying from the room. Ricardo sits there, numb and shaking, until Otunga grips his arm and guides him out of the chair, leading him into the hallway.
Alberto grabs him, pulls him far away from everyone into a corner of the room, and searches his face. "Amigo, amigo, what happened?" he demands, staring up at Otunga when Ricardo doesn't say anything right away. "What happened in there?!"
"Sheamus brogue kicked the camera," Otunga says sharply, his hand resting lightly on Ricardo's back. "The deposition ended right away. It won't be good for Sheamus, in the long run."
But it's not enough, Alberto's anger is growing with every word and Ricardo realizes if he doesn't speak up, do something, Alberto will blame what happened inside on Otunga and it's not the lawyer's fault. No one could've stopped what happened, so he shakes himself free of the fog and grips Del Rio's sleeve, tugging gently. "El Patron, it's ok. I'm going to be fine. Just... can we leave for Raw now?"
Alberto cups his face, stares into his eyes, and finally nods. "Fine, fine, mi amigo. Let's do that. But if anything else happens to scare him..." This is directed towards Otunga, Ricardo swallowing harshly against Alberto's fingers. Del Rio sighs and lightly hugs
his best friend, shaking his head. "Let's go now."
The match that night is simplistic, nothing for Alberto to worry about. It's against Tyson Kidd, so Alberto allows Ricardo to accompany him to ringside, though he insists he stay by the commentary table and avoid getting too close to the ring, just in case. It takes Del Rio only a short amount of time to win and, after celebrating this small victory, he rolls out of the ring and collects the ring announcer, leading him backstage to safety. But this sense of security is only temporary as they watch Otunga compete against Sheamus again, just for the Irish brute to ignore the ban on the Brogue Kick. Booker T interrupts to announce that, should he do it again, he'll be stripped of the World title. Alberto grins brilliantly but it slips a little when he spots the wide eyed relief on Ricardo's face, tugging on his sleeve breathlessly. "It is good news, ay, amigo?"
"Si," he breathes. "It is. I am glad you will be safe, El Patron." Alberto nods, an odd look on his face, and Ricardo stammers. "Wha- what is it, El Patron? Did I do something wrong?"
His face immediately clears and he shakes his head. "No, no, mi amigo. Everything's fine. It is nothing to worry about. I am glad you will be safe as well, now that that perro can't kick anything he sees moving."
Ricardo's smile is uncertain and weak, disbelieving what's coming out of his employer's mouth for some, nagging reason that he can't bring himself to face right now.
-x
That Friday, they are once more in the ring, addressing what's going on with the Brogue kick, when Alberto offers the mic to Ricardo. The ring announcer swallows, trying to do his employer's bidding and speak about his experiences since being injured, but he barely gets through acknowledging his family's worry when he breaks down in tears, unable to stop thinking about his poor madre's response to it all. Alberto takes the mic back and awkwardly pats his arm, clearly unsure how to make the situation better for him, when Sheamus storms down to the ring. Ricardo is shuffled towards the back of the ring, but Otunga moves to confront him despite his own injuries, just for Sheamus to forcefully grab the neck brace and tear it from his throat, leaving him floundering against the mat as Alberto moves to check on him, anger in his eyes when the ring announcer joins them, resting a hand on Otunga's arm fearfully.
They all breathe a little easier when the trainer says that Otunga isn't injured any worse, although Del Rio still looks angry at the entire sequence of events, Ricardo's fearful attitude following this only making him tense up even more.
Ricardo's never sure where exactly things went wrong- perhaps he wasn't convincing enough in the depo, perhaps the judge was lenient towards Sheamus because he was a fan, perhaps Otunga had done something, but it's clear on Sunday that things are not going well. Otunga looks grim and Alberto looks angered while he overhears their whispered conversation. The civil suit is over, they've lost. He closes his eyes and looks away, unable to stop the suspicions that it's all his fault. He tries to comfort himself with the fact that the Brogue Kick is still banned and that the doctor had told him just yesterday he could take the brace off sometimes if he feels comfortable enough to do so, but when he actually tries to, both Otunga and Alberto are right there, yelling at him to put it back on, and he does so, cringing in shame at that unreadable emotion that he's never seen in his employer's eyes before all of this began.
That's just the tip of the iceberg, however, as, just before the World Heavyweight Title match, Booker T interrupts to announce that, upon further consideration, he's reversing his decision and Sheamus will be allowed to use the Brogue Kick. Alberto's fury is something Ricardo's never seen before, something he never wants to see again, Sheamus' glee a sharp contrast to the turmoil both Mexicans are feeling. Ricardo spends the entire contest worrying that perhaps he had somehow caused this, too, perhaps that short moment in time when he'd actually taken his neck brace off had caused Booker to reconsider the severity of his injuries, but... it doesn't matter. Alberto is clearly thrown off of his gameplan, which had accounted for the Cloverleaf and everything but the Brogue Kick, so of course he gets hit with it fairly early on and loses, Ricardo tugging helplessly at his hair as he looks up in fear at Sheamus, frozen.
To his relief, Alberto rolls out of the ring before Ricardo has to sneak in and pull him out, the ring announcer kneeling next to him and waiting for Del Rio to make the first move, say something. His hand rests on Del Rio's neck and he worries, wondering if Alberto is alright, but then his employer moves, sits up and, despite the angry, groggy look on his face, he seems to be ok. Turns and looks right at Ricardo, that strange emotion crossing his face again, and Ricardo swallows, everything else around them abruptly becoming meaningless. "El Patron?"
He sighs, rests a hand on his neck and winces, Ricardo watching closely as he makes it to his feet. "Let's go," he says tensely, holding his free hand out to Ricardo. The ring announcer hesitates, gaping up at him, before he snaps his fingers impatiently and Ricardo quickly rests his hand in his, gingerly pulling himself up from the floor, face flushed as Alberto stares at him. Not a word is spoken between them however, Alberto quickly glancing around at the crowd before he lets go of the ring announcer, turns and heads up the ramp, gingerly massaging his neck as he goes. Ricardo can do nothing but follow him, perplexed and a little scared.
Traveling to Raw, grabbing a few hours of sleep before the event, it all is quiet, strained, things abruptly feeling like they did before the entire Brogue Kick drama began. Ricardo continues to drown in confusion and unhappiness as Alberto paces around their hotel room, barely even looking over at him as he sorts through his employer's clothes, carefully repacking them so they'll be organized and smooth before their flight home the next day. He wants to say something, ask if Alberto is alright, but there is so much tension in the older man's body that he doubts it'd be welcomed. So he keeps his eyes down, his thoughts to himself, and tries to breathe normally around his ever-present neck brace.
That night, Del Rio is placed in a tag match with Punk vs Cena and Sheamus and his team ends up on the losing end, of course. He is angry, mumbling viciously to himself, but everything stops when what's being said on the monitor registers with both of them. A promo for Friday's Smackdown, Booker T promising to explain why he'd unbanned the Brogue kick. Ricardo swallows heavily, not liking what this could possibly mean for him. He is healthy enough now, his neck not hurting as much, and with that not on his mind, he can't help but focus once more on Alberto's simple response in that interview. That it's only a matter of time before they no longer are associated. His heart sinks as if it's the first time he'd heard it, although it had been a distant buzz in the back of his mind for weeks now.
"El Patron," he tries to say, his voice weak and shaky. There is no response from his employer. He closes his eyes and winces.
"Let's go," Alberto says after five long, painful minutes, Ricardo startled to find that he has his bag in hand and is already walking towards the exit.
"Oh, uh, si," he breathes, grabbing his things and rushing after him.
Sofia greets them at the front door after they return to Florida, taking their luggage and dividing it between their rooms before she comes across Ricardo, doing the usual check of the food supplies. She tsks and turns him gently towards her, cupping his face with her warm, soft hands, and searching his eyes intently. Her lips twist in sadness as she wraps her arms around him in a soothing hug. "It will be ok, senor. It will."
He's not sure what she saw in his gaze, what he could've possibly given away in that split second of connection, but her words make his lips tremble and, when he hears Alberto approach only a few moments later, he gasps and pulls away, wiping desperately at his face. Sofia turns and easily distracts the Mexican aristocrat while Ricardo concludes collecting himself, the housekeeper looking relieved when she heads back to the counter, finding him more put together. "Hola, El Patron," he says simply. "Is there something you need?"
Alberto grunts and Ricardo regrets asking, but eventually his employer nods. "Si, I am going outside for awhile. Accompany me, Ricardo."
Time alone, the ring announcer thinks, his hand drifting up to rest against his brace, tugging slightly on it. To tell me that this is it, that he's... he's firing me. He swallows, fear bleeding from every pore as he follows Alberto outside, dreading what will happen when they sit down, when Alberto begins to talk. What he'll have to say.
But nothing comes of it. They sit in the grass, they watch the clouds drift across the afternoon sky, and Alberto seems perfectly content to sit here next to Ricardo, doing little more than breathing in the soft smells coming from Sofia's garden, floral scents mixing in with spicy undertones. "El Patron," he whispers, thinking that perhaps he'd missed something, maybe Alberto is just waiting for him to make the first move.
But no, that's not it, and Alberto proves it when he rests a hand on Ricardo's arm, squeezing warningly. "Shhhh," he hisses, his touch then gentling as he starts to stroke Ricardo's sunwarmed skin, taking away both the ring announcer's words and his breath in one simple movement. "Just enjoy, mi amigo. We don't get to do this often, after all."
Ricardo nods blankly, settling back against the ground. "Si- si, El Patron," he stammers, unable to focus on the beauty of nature as Alberto's fingers continue to brush against his flesh, causing his arm to tingle from his fingers to his elbow. He feels young, vulnerable, and sick with need- a need to make Alberto happy, a need to have more afternoons like this one, a need for him to never stop touching him. A need so simple, so pure, that he can't deny it anymore. He drops his head back into the grass and shivers. He casts a glance over at where his employer's hand is still stroking his arm and closes his eyes, absorbing the soft warmth. Enjoy it, Ricardo... who knows when he'll truly get bored of you and fire you, leave you with nothing but moments like these to haunt you...
Smackdown is still the focus of Ricardo's worry, his stress, but Booker T says absolutely nothing but why he made the decisions he did at the previous PPV. The only thing he really says is that Alberto will need to earn another World title shot, which is annoying and expected and... leaves Ricardo breathing a little easier, even when Del Rio is placed in a tag match with Dolph against Orton and Sheamus. Mind still swimming with the rush of relief, the ring announcer wanders around, trying to make sure everything is in place for Alberto's entrance. He's about to go out to the parking lot to check on the car when he hears a familiar voice calling his name and he sighs, turning reluctantly to come face to face with Vickie Guerrero. She starts mocking him in Spanish, insulting him and claiming that he's worthless, injury prone and other things that leaves him smarting, though he fights not to show it, pushing past her to the exit, glad to leave her squeeching behind.
The cool night air feels good on his face, but still. Her words echo in his mind as he wonders what of them Alberto may agree with, especially considering he's apparently just waiting for the right time to distance himself from Ricardo. He sighs and finds a car, settles in on the hood of it and absently kicks his heels against the fender, relieved that it apparently has no alarm system. He grazes his fingers against the still present neck brace, aware that Alberto only wants him to wear it for his own safety, but he's eager for the day that both the doctor and his employer are comfortable enough with him taking it off and keeping it off. He hopes it'll be soon. He's still sitting there when the side door opens and familiar footsteps head his way, Ricardo shifting over carefully to make room for Alberto to join him.
"What are you doing out here, mi amigo?" he asks after a few moments of strained silence, examining his friend's face in the darkness.
Ricardo wants badly to dodge the question, not delve into this with the tag match so soon, but... Alberto's gaze is heavy on the side of his face and the words are spilling out of him before he can even consider what he's about to say. "Avoiding Vickie Guerrero."
Alberto tenses at this, his hand hovering a few inches from Ricardo's before he rests it back on the hood of the car. "What did she do?"
"Nothing," he mumbles. "It's nothing. I don't want to... make things complicated before your tag match. Just forget I said anything. I'm fine." He moves to hop off of the hood but there's Alberto's fingers again, warm and secure against his hand, and he couldn't move even if the car was on fire. He turns and locks eyes with Del Rio and dammit, there's that... that connection again, and it's amazing and terrifying all at the same time, because he knows deep in his soul, Alberto would never want this, not with him. He deserves better, someone more like Alberto himself is, sauve and confident, handsome and powerful. Not awkward and bumbling, desperate for approval.
He eventually looks down, determined to end this moment, but Alberto reaches out and grips his jaw, lifting his face until they're eye to eye again. "Tell me, por favor. We're not leaving until you do."
Ricardo closes his eyes, tries not to reveal just what his touch is doing to him. Finally releases a faint breath and gives in. Tells him everything about their confrontation back in the arena. Alberto's nails are digging into his flesh so violently that Ricardo is sure he'll be bleeding by the end of it, but he knows the other man's anger isn't at him. No, the curses he spits out are towards Vickie, and again the younger man fears what this might mean for the tag match that is upcoming. "El Patron, it's fine-"
"It damn well is not!" Alberto snaps at him, his cursing in English only proving how hot Ricardo's explanation had made him. "That banshee, what right does she have- she shouldn't speak on things she doesn't understand, ay." He's up and pacing in front of the car, so angry that nothing else truly matters, before he turns sharply and once more covers Ricardo's jaw with his hand, staring him deep in his eyes. "You are not worthless, you are not any of those things she said. It is wrestling, we all suffer injuries, I have, as well, and you've been by my side for every one of them, even when it kept you off of TV for months. Don't give her pointless babbling a second thought, Ricardo. I would not keep you by my side if any of the hateful, disgusting things she said to you just now had even a speck of truth to them. You are mi mejor amigo, but you have earned your place here in this company. Never doubt that."
The ring announcer nods, eyes locked on him. His confidence, and unwavering belief in his words, overwhelm Ricardo.
But no matter what, Vickie's words stick with him, and even though Alberto doesn't seem to mind that much when the tag match is lost that evening, Ricardo is determined to make it up to him somehow. So when Monday rolls around and AJ places them in a six man tag match- Ricardo, Alberto and Otunga vs Sheamus, Sin Cara and Rey Mysterio- Del Rio and Otunga both argue with her that Ricardo is still injured, his neckbrace still tight around his throat, but AJ is resolute. Ricardo works up his nerve, seeing his opportunity finally. He tears off the neck brace and insists that he can compete, that it'll be fine. All Alberto and the lawyer can do is gape as he spins around, yelling arriba! as he runs out of the room excitedly.
The match itself is hard. Ricardo takes a lot of the beatdown, Sin Cara and Rey Mysterio slinging him around wildly until Otunga ends up in the ring against Sheamus. He doesn't last long, however, before he's back in their corner, roughly tagging in Ricardo. The ring announcer freezes, he stares at the Irishman who had put this all into motion, but there's no resisting it as Sheamus catches him and starts to beat him down. Ricardo can distantly hear Alberto screaming at, hopefully, Otunga in Spanish for tagging him in, but there's little he can actually do against a man of Sheamus' size and speed. He's soon trapped in the ropes, waiting for the horrible forearms to the chest, when Alberto appears, tries to help keep the move from happening- but Rey sends Del Rio out of the ring, crashing hard into the barricade, and Ricardo's hope is forced from him like his breath when Sheamus begins striking him across the chest.
He's pinned not long afterwards and that's it, he rolls out of the ring and struggles to catch his breath, his body aching, his chest stinging... he'd failed at proving himself to anyone, really, so it's with some reluctance as he scrambles over to where Alberto is still laying against the barricade wall, both of them pausing long enough to watch Otunga eat a Brogue kick. Neither seem that regretful, however, considering what the lawyer had put into motion when he'd tagged Ricardo in against Sheamus. "Lo siento," Ricardo breathes, his hand resting on Alberto's knee. "I wanted- I wanted to do better... I wanted to win this for you." He swallows. "I failed."
"This was Otunga's failure," Alberto tells him. "He should have known better than to tag you in against Sheamus, especially considering all that has happened lately." He rests a hand on Ricardo's shoulder and squeezes lightly. "Do not feel bad, mi amigo. I've been thinking I don't require a lawyer any longer anyway. I believe it's time to part ways with him."
Ricardo stares at him in some wonder before nodding. Wonders if it will be that simple when Alberto decides he's had enough of Ricardo's services. This weighs on his mind while they drive to the hotel in silence, while he drops their bags on the floor at the end of their beds, watching Alberto duck into the bathroom to get ready to grab a few hours of sleep before traveling on to the next city. While he sits on the bed and stares at his hands, waiting for his turn, while he listens to Alberto hum distractedly, a painful smile on his face.
He's close to falling asleep sitting up when Alberto finally leaves the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to look at him. Ricardo yawns and glances up, realizing that Alberto's back but staring at him with that look in his eyes again. Ricardo swallows and tries to stand, his exhaustion causing him to waver against the bed. "El Patron-" he's just said when Alberto joins him and stabilizes him before settling him back down on the mattress, kneeling slightly to look him in the eye. They're face to face, only a few inches between them, when Ricardo swallows and turns away, not wanting his employer to get the wrong idea. "I should-" But Alberto's hand is resting on his chest, holding him in place, and he can barely breathe, much less verbalize any excuse to get off of this bed.
"Mi amigo," Alberto whispers, Ricardo glancing out of the corner of his eye to discover that the Mexican aristocrat is now kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, staring at him. "Look at me, por favor." He is crouched on his knees and they are nearly eye to eye, Ricardo shifting once more to look at him. He smiles and reaches up, cupping Ricardo's face, searching his eyes for... something... The ring announcer sniffs, wanting desperately to look away but finding himself unable to in this moment. "Why do you look so scared?"
There's really only one reason, has been the simple question waiting on the tip of his tongue since all of those weeks ago, the need to ask it never quite matching up with his bravery to do so... but now, staring down at him, after so much has happened between them, he thinks it's now or never. So he licks his lips and somehow finds the words from deep inside. "I saw an interview you had a few weeks and I know you think that our time working together coming to an end is inevitable. I would like a timetable, if you- if you... have any idea when..." He releases a shaky breath. "I'd like to be able to prepare for it..." Financially, physically, emotionally... he doubts he ever really could prepare for that date, but perhaps if he knew where Alberto's head is at, it would somehow help him to sort through his own needs before it happens.
But Del Rio only stares at him, a surprised, sad look in his eyes, and Ricardo thinks perhaps he'd misunderstood him, perhaps he hadn't meant- "I am so sorry, Ricardo," he says lowly, the guilt in his voice flooring him. "I have forgotten those interviews, saying such ridiculous things. I was not thinking then, and for those words to be fresh in your mind at the time that you saved me and took the Brogue Kick for me... Ay." He finds Ricardo's hands and squeezes them gently. "No wonder you have been so distant since that weekend, I never even imagined the impact those words would have when I said them..." He stares up into Ricardo's wet eyes and sighs. "Truly? Now? In my mind, our working relationship is in no danger. But there is something..." He struggles suddenly, looking down at their interlaced hands. "I, ah... Ricardo." He sighs. "I am not good with emotions, or understanding my feelings, much less anything else. But it has dawned on me, more and more recently, that there is something exceptionally daunting that I have been avoiding, or... just unaware of."
"El Patron?"
"I have realized, the longer that this drama with Sheamus has carried on, that I merely... wanted to protect you. Comfort you, though again, I am terrible at such things, because I have never had many friends, much less... any other kind of meaningful relationship..." He releases a soft sigh. "You are so loyal, Ricardo, and I often overlooked you for such things, at first because I thought you were only here for the career opportunities and the money. By the time I realized you honestly found me to be a friend, it was too late, we were in this cycle that I couldn't quite break where you were willing to put yourself in harm's way to assist me in matches, no matter what it may cost you..." He swallows. Rubs circles in Ricardo's knuckles with the pad of his thumbs. "And now we find ourselves here, where my words hurt you and you still throw yourself in the line of fire to protect me anyway..." He is relieved to see that the younger man is still staring at him, agape at his uncharacteristically meandering words. He smiles wanly, watching him closely. "I don't deserve a reciprocation of what I'm about to tell you, and I don't want you to feel obligated to say anything back to me, I have also never been good at keeping my realizations to myself, and you have always been here to hear me out in the past, so indulge me this one more time, por favor."
"Of course," Ricardo whispers faintly, a strange sensation coursing through him as Alberto continues to stare up at him, that bizarre emotion in his eyes that's been haunting Ricardo for weeks now seeming even more intense in this moment.
Alberto nods, shifts so that he's leaning up on his knees and rests his hands on Ricardo's jaw. "I am in love with you." It's quiet, it's simple, it's everything that the Mexican aristocrat usually is not, as is the kiss that follows. When Ricardo doesn't respond at all, frozen, Alberto pulls away, not regretting his actions or words, though he knows that everything more than likely will change now. In what way, he's not sure, but no matter what happens, he won't hold it against the younger man. He's already been through more than enough because of Del Rio, after all. He pats Ricardo's knees a couple of times before pushing himself up and walking towards the second bed, not knowing what to say, or do, except to go to sleep and try to leave all of this behind him.
He notices, absently, as the bed squeaks and he assumes that Ricardo too is going to bed, shifting up to rest against the pillows with his battered and bruised body after the six man tag match- Your timing is terrible, as always, Alberto, he chides himself- but he's only just made it to his bed when a hand rests on his shoulder and turns him around, Alberto shocked to find Ricardo staring at him with an intense expression on his face even as his fingers tremble against Alberto's arm.
There's a look in his eye, something that Alberto's seen lurking many times before in their depths but had chose to ignore. Before he can say anything, Ricardo leans in and kisses him, his hand tangling in Alberto's shirt as his employer tentatively responds, not wanting to scare him off. "I love you too," he mutters in relief at finally being able to admit it, eyes fluttering when the words register and Alberto's lips part into a pleased grin, hugging him close. Ricardo rests his face against Alberto's neck and releases a breath, feeling a good deal lighter at finally having his truth out- and an explanation for some of the looks Alberto had been shooting him the last few weeks... When he yawns, Alberto chuckles and turns him slowly towards one of the beds, Ricardo too sleepy to figure out which, not that it matters really... especially when Alberto settles in next to him and pulls him closer, kissing his forehead while Ricardo's fingers curl around his sleeve, needing to keep him close. "Buenos noches..."
"Buenos noches, Ricardo," Alberto whispers, in awe at just how quickly things had changed, how easily they had shifted into place. He smiles and curls in closer to his ring announcer, peace finally embracing him and urging him into the first deep sleep he's had since Ricardo had been in the hospital.