Alberto Del Rio watches from the audience, numb, as his ring announcer tries to work his way out of the shards of the table that had housed food and decorations, just to stumble right into a solid shot to his upper body and face with one of the abandoned guitars, hoisted by Dolph Ziggler with angry determination. "No, no," he mutters, eyes aflame at his party getting ruined, how still Ricardo is as Dolph gets out of the ring and the Mariachi band begins to play for him, only angering the Mexican aristocrat all the more. "Fools," he snaps, approaching the barrier as green and red balloons begin raining down upon the crowd.

Batting them away impatiently, he leaps back over the barricade as quickly as he'd done so just minutes ago to get away from his angered rival, unable to do anything but watch as his poor ring announcer suffered further injury due to him. He rolls into the ring and kneels down by Ricardo, hand on his shoulder. "Ricardo," he breathes, eyes darkening when the younger man doesn't respond to his presence even slightly. "Hey, hey, wake up." His worry only grows as this doesn't happen, looking up angrily when he realizes that no one's moving to the ring to assist the poor man. "Where's the trainer?! Get him over here now!"

He cups the younger man's face and stares down at him, growing more and more worried. Finally the trainer joins them, looking Ricardo over. Alberto hesitantly releases him to give the other man room, breathing harshly as he takes in a growing welt on the younger man's face from the impact of the guitar. "What's wrong with him?" he demands, once more resting his hand on his ring announcer, sharp, painful memories of the night that Sheamus brogue kicked him returning to him in a rush. "Why isn't he coming to?"

"He took a pretty solid hit," the trainer murmurs, waving his light over Ricardo's eyes again, reinforcing Del Rio's bad memories. "A couple of them, actually."

Alberto grimaces, painfully aware of that fact. He returns to the ring announcer's side and runs a hand through his hair, not caring who's watching. "Ricardo, por favor, wake up," he pleads.

Something finally clicks, the younger man grunting and shifting under his touch, head going left to right under his fingers. "El... El Patron," he keens, groaning softly as the trainer once more flashes the light in his eyes.

"I'm here, I'm here. Take it easy," he sighs, relief flooding him. "Just breathe. You're going to be just fine, I promise."

"Hurts," he murmurs and Del Rio's anger towards Ziggler only grows. "El Patron... you're ok?"

"Of course I am," he whispers. "Better now, anyway." He rests his hand on his forehead and leans over once the trainer's backed off. "They have to move you to the back soon." Ricardo groans but nods, staring up at him with dark, fearful eyes. "You're gonna be fine." He glances around, relieved to find, with the show ending when his Fiesta did, the crowd had cleared out quickly and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Ricardo's lips. "I'll be right here."

"Gracias," he whispers, eyes fluttering as Del Rio lingers until the trainer approaches again, staring down at him comfortingly as he reluctantly moves away so they can prepare him. Ricardo hisses when they're finally ready to move him, shifting his sore body as they settle a bodyboard under him, not wanting him to walk and risk falling while still disoriented from all of the hits he'd taken. "El Patron?"

"I'm here," he whispers, leaning into the ring announcer's line of sight and squeezing his hands as they adjust straps around him, making sure he's secure before they shift him onto the stretcher waiting outside of the ring. Alberto's just moved to follow them when he steps on something, looking down to find a pile of candy from the destroyed pinata had scattered there in the melee. He sneers, about to leave it behind, when something catches his eye. On a whim, he scoops it up, pocketing it before rolling out of the ring to catch up to the stretcher.

After transferring him to a waiting cot in his office, the trainer bustles around and examines Ricardo, taking care to check his ankles and neck under Del Rio's watchful eye, the Mexican aristocrat sitting next to him and rubbing circles in his knuckles. By the time he's done, walking off to discuss the situation with the on-staff doctor, Alberto abandons the chair he'd been forced to sit in and gingerly settles onto the cot next to Ricardo, resting his head against his shoulder while running his hands through Ricardo's soft black hair. "How do you feel?"

"Better now." He smiles slightly as Alberto chuckles against his throat, his answer from earlier now being turned around on him. "El Patron..."

"Si?"

"I'm sorry your fiesta was ruined. I tried to make it perfect for you," he sighs, leaning into his employer as he kisses his jaw.

"You succeeded," Alberto smiles. "You've become quite good at planning my fiestas, I believe it's second nature for you by now. It's not your fault Ziggler ruined it so thoroughly." He strokes his face gently, trailing a kiss along his cheek. "I'm sorry you were hurt, but perhaps this will help?" He pulls the item he had found earlier from his pocket and rests it in Ricardo's palm, watching as his eyes light up a little.

"My favorite Mexican chocolate," he gasps, smiling down at it. Something that had been limited in production ages ago, he had been amazed when he'd found the one place it'd still been stocked at- the company who filled the pinata, and had agreed to include some once they'd heard the Del Rio name. "You remembered."

"Si, of course," Del Rio says. "I was only able to find one in that mess..." His eyes darken in anger once more as he considers what Ziggler had done, shaking his head. He unwraps the candy carefully, holding it out to Ricardo. "Here, open up before it melts," he urges him, tapping the chocolate against his lips.

Ricardo stares at him, however, not moving to do so. "Wait, wait," he mutters. "Is there one for you? I wanted you to try it too..."

Alberto smiles at him affectionately. Hurt, his favorite candy just waiting for him, and still all he can think about is Alberto... "Don't worry about it, this is all yours. Here." Finally Ricardo opens his mouth enough to allow his employer to feed him the candy, closing his eyes against the nostalgically sweet taste. "Good?" he whispers, grinning when the ring announcer opens his eyes to answer, surprised to find his employer almost nose to nose with him. "Let's see."

Ricardo mumbles as Alberto kisses him, tasting some of the chocolate on his lips. He sighs as Alberto gently curls his fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss, careful where he touches or how long he lingers, not wanting to hurt him further. When he finally pulls away, the ring announcer looks dazed, his lips still parted as Alberto sits up and smiles at him.

"What do you know," he says softly. "You're right, it is pretty good chocolate. We should order some more."

Ricardo blinks a few times, laughing wearily as he squeezes his employer's hand. Nearing a year now and the older man could still surprise him more often than not... "Si, we should."