Another day of disasterous flights. Ricardo sighs and stares up at the ceiling, uncertain if he's landed or if he's just imagining things. Grunting, he lifts his cell phone and stares at the time flashing there. "It's seriously almost midnight?" he mumbles to himself, closing his eyes. "Ugh..." Exhausted and chilled as soon as he leaves the airport, the winter weather immediately biting through his clothes, he groans and looks for his rental. When he finally finds it, he almost cries in relief before sliding inside and struggling to start it up, his hands shaking so hard that he has trouble getting the key in the ignition. "Ay dios mio..."
Once the car's on and heat is slowly starting to fill the exterior, easing his shivers little by little, he digs his phone out of his pocket and tweets about his arrival, how cold and sore he feels, mostly to give the warmth a little more time to work its magic. Not that it matters, he realizes upon looking up from the screen. He'll have to leave the car again, walk through the frigid temperatures just to get to the hotel. Groaning, he rests his face against the wheel and breathes out. If not for Alberto, he thinks tiredly, I'd just park the car and sleep in it... But that's not a possibility, so he pulls out onto the main road and makes his way to the hotel, gritting his teeth against the cold weather causing his previously broken bones to throb anew.
Each red light adds to his crankiness but finally, finally the hotel appears in sight and he releases a relieved breath, counting the seconds until he arrives at the turn. Hitting the signal for said turn feels like a little bit of freedom and he's so happy to find a spot close to the building that he almost feels like crying. But the thoughts of having to turn the heat off, getting out of the car and getting his bags before walking to the building causes him to tense up anew. "Alright, Ricardo," he tells himself somberly, "we do this and we're staying inside for the rest of the night, no ifs ands or buts about it. Just... a few more minutes. We can do this."
Taking the keys from the ignition with a grimace, he opens the back door long enough to tug his luggage out. Stopping only long enough to lock the doors before slamming them shut, he continues on to the hotel, each step more painful than the last as his legs rebel against everything, his ankles and knee protesting each movement. He's tired and barely able to keep his eyes open by the time he makes it to the front desk of the hotel, staring at the woman standing there. "Um, hey. I think Alberto Del Rio left something for me?"
She stares at him for a few moments before rifling through some envelopes and papers. "Ricardo Rodriguez?"
"Yeah, that's me," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. As soon as he has the envelope in hand, he nods and turns away. "Thanks," he calls over his shoulder before trudging towards the elevator, the plush carpetting doing little to ease the pain still throbbing from ankle to thigh. He curses sleepily while squinting at the keycard to figure out what room Alberto's on. Figuring it out, he presses five on the panel and leans against the side of the elevator, biting his lip as he struggles to remain standing.
He doesn't really remember walking down the hall once the elevator opens, but he does recall standing by the door, trying to fit the key card in the slot and failing, his eyes barely open as he leans against the wall, growing frustrated and mumbling sleepily. Finally the door is pulled open and Alberto gapes at him, gripping his bag and tugging it out of his hands before catching him around the shoulders and drawing him into the room. "El Patron," he sighs, leaning into the older man as he pushes him onto the bed and drops Ricardo's bag next to his own. "Am I really here?"
Alberto's laugh is soft and a little sad as he leans over Ricardo and pulls his shoes off. "Si, mi valiente. You're really here. I saw your tweet," he murmurs, frowning when Ricardo shudders wearily. "This weather truly is brutal, hm? Do you want a hot shower?"
"Doubt I'd stay awake for it," he admits lowly. Alberto nods briskly and seems to decide on another course of action, walking towards the front of the bed and gripping him under the arms, helping him to scoot up against the pillows so he'll be more comfortable. "What're you doing, El Patron?" he wonders, watching him closely.
Del Rio merely grins and moves back towards the bottom of the bed after helping him out of his jeans. Ricardo squints at him, still sleepy but fighting to stay awake to see what Alberto's got in mind. "I saw your tweet about being sore because of the weather," he explains. "So I was thinking... perhaps..." His hands are warm and gentle, causing Ricardo to gasp when he grips his ankles, lightly massaging from his heel up to his calves. "Does anything else hurt?"
Ricardo breathes in deeply before peering down at him. "Maybe ... everything? A little?" His grin is a little mischevious, despite his exhaustion, and Alberto laughs warmly, squeezing his ankle.
"Alright, I suppose we'll see what we can do about that too," Alberto muses, knowing that Ricardo will probably be long asleep before he even finishes with his ankles. He's already struggling to keep his eyes open, each blink a little slower than the last, so Alberto pats his knee a couple of times, gaining his attention. "But just in case... buenos noches, mi valiente," he tells him softly, winking when Ricardo relaxes and sinks back into the pillows, understanding that that's Alberto's way of telling him it's ok to fall asleep.
"Buenos noches, El Patron," he sighs. He's out long before Alberto moves up to massage his knees, careful around the scars littering his skin from past injuries.
Smiling wanly, Del Rio moves and grabs the bedding, pulling them up to Ricardo's chin, tucking him in. "Rest well, mi valiente," he whispers to him before kissing his forehead and laying down next to him, wrapping an arm around him to help him warm up the rest of the way.