He dreams about wrestling sometimes. Going up to the top rope, diving, landing across his opponent's prone body, pinning the man. Winning some nondescript title, looking out into the crowd and seeing his family, Alicia, Alberto, Sofia, Mike and AJ and all of the rest cheering him on, so pleased for his success. Quarantine only makes that worse because now he can't compete, he can't even train like he normally would, and Alicia tries to be sympathetic but she's always had more going on, between fashion and designs and everything else, but sports have been his be all, end all, since he was a little boy, always willing to sacrifice so much just to be something, succeed where others doubted him.

The biggest proof of this are the scars along his ankles, his knee. Alicia lays opposite him and rubs the ache out of his joints, when it's too much, when humidity is up and he can just feel the grinding of his surgerically repaired bones protesting the weather change. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the tenderness of her touch, how her breath teases along his flesh, but it's only a temporary balm on his discomfort, and as soon as she moves away, he feels the pain creep back in. Even so, he's never let it keep him down before, so he forces himself upright and staggers out to the living room, trying to find something to do, some way to not be completely miserable.

"Hey," she greets him softly and he smiles weakly at her.

"Hey. Thanks again for that, it's... a nice thing to wake up to," he says slowly. Her smile grows as she pats the couch next to her and he settles in, sighing as she hands him a mug of warm tea. "Gracias." Sipping slowly from it, he tries to distract himself from the nagging pain and looks over at the clothes she's still poring over, trying to get the designs just right. "How's it going?"

"Slow," she admits. "But progress is progress, I thought of a better fabric for the shoulders around here, and how to make it swoop like this..." She shows him and he examines the new design in comparison to what she was working with last night.

"That's beautiful," he says softly, and she lights up.

"I hope so," she murmurs. "Who knows, maybe some day I'll see something of mine on a run-way."

He smiles at her. "You should be the one modeling it too."

She laughs and shakes her head, lightly swatting him. "It doesn't really work that way. Besides, who would honestly want me to model anything? Quaratine chic?"

He wrinkles his nose up at her and lightly brushes her hair out of her face, smiling at her. "You're still the most gorgeous woman in the world and I wouldn't want to be quarantined with anyone else."

"Charmer," she says, a pleasant warmth coloring her face as she swats at him again. "Distracting me, look at you."

"Sorry," he says softly, shifting to move away.

"Oh no you don't," she laughs, gripping his arm and keeping him close to her. "You're not going to just compliment and run. You're staying right here."

He hums and wraps his arms around her, content to stay right here, as long as she wants him to, the throbbing in his ankles a dull reality as she reaches up and kisses him, gentle and slow. "Your designs-"

"Can wait," she decides, brushing the papers aside and trailing soft touches along his face, down his chest. "Right?"

"Right," he sighs against her lips. "It can wait."