Any questions for COFC, lemme know!
Alberto's week starts off well, even with Alex hanging around whenever he doesn't have responsibilities for the pre-show, it being Riley's birthday doing little to distract Del Rio from his displeasure with the man. Even so, he defeats Cody Rhodes and laughs all the way backstage, his smirk growing as Ricardo congratulates him with a smile. They're in the locker room, watching the rest of the show, when RVD's interview is interrupted by Zeb Colter. Colter invites him to join his and Swagger's little xenophobic group and Ricardo tenses next to Alberto, the Mexican aristocrat's eyes narrowing as his gaze shifts from the monitor to his best friend. RVD, however, refuses the old man outright and Alberto has to admit, it's a relief, but instead of Ricardo relaxing, he only seems all the more glum once commercials take over. "Mi amigo?" Del Rio finally asks, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Ricardo's gaze darts around as he licks his lips, finally shaking his head. "It's just... RVD and I haven't been friends for months, really, and yet he knows better than to allign himself with the man. Meanwhile, my own roommate approaches Colter to consider him to join and I'm not sure he's yet understood why that might be a problem." His eyes rest on his ankle, broken only a little over a year ago by Swagger, and Alberto sighs, tugging him closer and hugging him. Ricardo says very little after this, merely leaning against his former employer, lost in thought, while Raw carries on without them.
It's announced that that Friday, Alberto will compete for the US title against Dean Ambrose with Curtis Axel and Ryback and, between that and lingering ponderings about Ricardo's issues with Alex, it leaves him distracted on Main Event, during which he loses to Goldust, who's looking for some measure of revenge on his brother's behalf. Del Rio seethes and tears at his wrist tape on his way backstage, disgusted at the teeter totter his career is on currently. It's not very promising for his title opportunity this Friday, but he's determined not to let yet something else hold him back.
Trying to clear his mind between work outs once he returns to Florida, he's laying in his hammock, enjoying the warm weather and bright sun,, when he hears the front gate swing open and a familiar car drive into the driveway towards the house, smirking slightly. He doesn't move, however, content to wait and listen, able to picture each step all too well in his mind as Ricardo first goes to the house, greets Sofia, then resumes his search for Alberto. "Ah, there you are," he says a few minutes later, obligingly standing to the side so as not to block his former employer's sun. "Hola, Alberto."
"Hola, mi amigo," he says lazily. "Is everything alright?"
"Better than alright," Ricardo says and the pure happiness in his voice makes Alberto take notice, sitting up slightly and staring into his best friend's exuberant face. "Look!" He pushes a piece of paper towards Del Rio, who quickly takes it and skims it, beginning to smile himself. "They've booked Kalisto and I for a few NXT live events, on top of the tapings in a couple of weeks... I think this might actually, you know, go somewhere..." He looks anxious and happy and worried all at once, Alberto quickly getting out of the hammock to rest his hands on his shoulders as has become second nature for him whenever Ricardo is stressed. "Right? It, it seems so, si? I'm not just imagining things?"
"Si, mi amigo, I do believe you're finally getting the opportunity you've deserved for a very long time." He smiles down at him as relief flashes through Ricardo's eyes, some of his doubt fading away. "I am happy for you."
"Gracias," he breathes out, staring down at the note as Alberto leads him over to the pond, sitting down automatically when Del Rio nudges him. "I just wish everyone was." The words surprise Del Rio, who glances over at him as he stares at the water, lips twisting in sadness. "Alex was... pretty cold when I showed him the letter."
"I didn't think you were noticing it, mi amigo," he admits quietly. "I've had my eye on him since the tweets to Colter. He tries to act normal, but yet... it's clear something is off with him."
"I know," Ricardo mutters. "I think it's because he's been without a match for so long too, I know he wants to turn things around... but then I get this opportunity and he's still on the pre-and-post show segments, and-"
"He has no right to be jealous of you," Del Rio interrupts him. "For months, they weren't letting you do anything, and before that, it was pitiful how your talents were wasted, partially because of me, mi amigo."
"He's been dealing with it for months-"
"And you've been dealing with it for years." Ricardo falls silent then, unable to argue any further with the older man's logic. "You deserve this, don't let his petulant attitude wear at your resolve." He rubs circles between Ricardo's shoulderblades. "Si?"
"Si, gracias, El Patron." Ricardo releases a deep breath and looks back up, staring out over the pond at Alberto's grounds. He'd always loved sitting here in the warm weather, enjoying the soft sounds of nature, and to be welcomed back here so easily, after everything that had happened last fall... He smiles, though it quickly fades away. "There is... eh, one thing, El Patron. The first houseshow we're booked at is this Friday, I won't be present for your US title match."
Alberto looks down at the paper and sees that he is correct. It stings a little, Del Rio having grown reaccustomed to Ricardo waiting for him backstage come win or loss, and this time... Hm, this time he would be alone to celebrate victory or bemoan defeat. But he can't be selfish, it will also give Ricardo some time away from Alex which, he thinks, isn't a bad thing- A-Ri will be stuck on the Smackdown pre-and-post show, while Ricardo shows his abilities in the NXT ring. "Don't worry about me, mi amigo, this is only good news," he finally speaks up, clapping Ricardo on the shoulder with a slightly strained smile. "Besides, I know no matter where you are, you're supporting me. And I you, mi amigo. Good luck this weekend."
"You too, El Patron," he says softly.
Alberto smiles down at him for a moment before turning him towards the house. "Come, let's tell Sofia. Would you like to stay for supper? I'm sure she would enjoy cooking for you once more."
Ricardo still looks hesitant at the strangely easy dismissal but he eventually nods, smiling. "Si, I would like that, if it's no trouble..."
"Ah, come now, amigo, you know better than that," Alberto chides him as they walk side by side to the patio.
Ricardo wins. He stares out through the eye holes in his mask and tries to breathe, accept that yes, all of the training had paid off- he, Ricardo Rodriguez, had won. And not just any match, no. He had won a singles match, all on his own, with no shenanigans or outside interference. Just Kalisto's support and, of course, Alberto's, as was promised. He releases a shaky breath as he gets up to his feet and clings to Kalisto's hand as he raises his hand in success, trying not to think of the last match he had won in front of a crowd and the mind numbing pain- emotional and physical- that had followed. They make their way backstage and Kalisto leaves him to shower in peace and get ready to go back to his and Alex's thankfully empty apartment when he pulls his phone out and stares down at it, eager to share his good news, but yet...
Smackdown is broadcasting from a monitor in the corner, a soft buzz coming from it as he inches closer to watch, the fatal fourway his former employer is in currently going on. He waits and rubs a finger over the buttons of his cell, waiting, hoping. But alas, Del Rio flops out of the ring and Ambrose gains the pin against Axel, retains his title. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. He can't contact Alberto, then, and the last thing he wants to do right now is call Alex and deal with his disinterest. Mike isn't a possibility, as he's up in Canada, busy with filming Marine 4 and spending whatever free time he pieces together with his wife. Ricardo doesn't know John well enough to even consider... His happiness tempered by these thoughts and guilt over how well everything seems to be going for him, and how badly it seems to be going for everyone else's wrestling careers. He sighs, staring down at his hands... when his phone rings, startling him so badly he almost throws it across the room in shock.
Gaining control of himself, he hesitantly checks the screen before answering with slightly trembling fingers. "Hola, Alberto," he says softly.
"Hola, Ricardo," the Mexican aristocrat responds after a moment.
"Lo siento," the former ring announcer offers. "I... saw the last few minutes of your match."
Alberto huffs and releases a deep breath that sends a burst of static in Ricardo's ear. "It is of no consequence," he says blandly. There is a long pause and Ricardo hesitates to break it until Alberto curses vehemently in Spanish.
"El Patron?" he asks feebly.
"I am trying to find results from tonight of your match, and these perros on Twitter are saying nothing," he snaps, frustrated.
Ricardo almost laughs. "Oh, uh, well." The words are still as foreign as his own recollection of the moment. "I, I won."
It's Alberto's turn to hesitate, not sure if he'd heard him right, still sore and annoyed from his match. "Que?"
Ricardo does laugh at this. "I won, El Patron. I beat Konnor tonight in a singles match."
"Mi amigo," he breathes, overwhelmed by a rush of happiness for the younger man. "Congratulations, that... that is incredible."
They talk for awhile longer, Alberto distracted from his own disappointments by Ricardo's pleasure, before they realize that both arenas are about to close up for the night, Ricardo laughing as he realizes that the janitors are wandering around, cleaning up. "I suppose we should go before I get locked in here and can't fly out for Extreme Rules tomorrow."
Del Rio chuckles. "Same here, mi amigo. I'll see you in New Jersey then."
"Si, see you then," he agrees, smiling as he hangs up and quickly moves to collect his things so he can get out before they lock the exits. He feels lighter than he has in a long time.
The Newark airport is annoying on a good day, so Alberto isn't that surprised when he ends up waiting outside for quite awhile after Ricardo's plane landed. He checks his watch, checks his phone, realizes he's just staring at the time on both and grimaces, about to put his phone away when it flashes with a text alert- a tweet from Ricardo about how he's been waiting on his luggage for 45 minutes. Alberto winces and glances into the airport, relieved that it's a nice enough day as he taps his foot against the side of the building.
When Ricardo finally escapes the building with his bags in hand, Del Rio's lips twitch as he takes in the aggravated look on his face. Taking a couple of steps to cut off his forward motion, Alberto bites his lip as the younger man lifts his head, looking like he's about to yell at whoever dares to delay him further- when he realizes who is before him, deflating somewhat. "Hola, Alberto."
"Hola, mi amigo," he greets him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Come, let's get out of here, hm?" Ricardo nods, allowing himself to be led out to Del Rio's rental car, his lingering annoyance with the airport finally fading away as they drive around to find somewhere to eat and watch the boxing event.
Both are travel weary and feeling sore in different ways due to their matches the night before so, by the time the final fight ends, they're both dragging and are relieved to go to their hotel and finish booking their room, Ricardo collapsing into his bed as soon as they're inside and their bags are dropped carelessly onto the floor. "Muchas gracias, Alberto," he says tiredly, listening as he pauses in the doorway to the bathroom.
"De nada, Ricardo." He gets ready for bed, brushing his teeth and changing out of his street clothes, and by the time he makes it back to the main room, the younger man is fast asleep. His eyes soften as he stares down at him, taking in the small smile on his lips. One that he hadn't seen in a long time- much too long, honestly. Since before his suspension last summer, at any rate. He sighs and leans closer, resting his hand in Ricardo's hair. Watching him to make sure he's not waking up, he presses a subtle kiss to his forehead. "Congratulations on your win last night. I really am so happy for you, mi hermanito."
As he pulls away and walks to his own bed, Ricardo's bed creaks while he shifts in his sleep, burying himself deeper into the sheets. "Mi hermano," he murmurs.
Alberto sinks down onto the mattress, running his fingers through his hair while he watches Ricardo sleep on. He smiles.
