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Rodolfo is trying to drown his sorrows in a glass of mildly cold chocolate milk.
He should be grateful, really, that he managed to make it back to the base in one piece because his recent mission was far worse than he anticipated and the rainy weather really knocked the wind out of him. Obviously, it could be worse, as a lot of things could, and he's content with the small mercies. Like the cook being kind enough to heat up some dinner for him long hours after closing the kitchen.
So what he's doing now, other than sitting in the empty, silent cafeteria all by himself and slowly munching on the now lukewarm food is mentally planning the rest of his evening. He already was debriefed, so no need to worry about that anymore, all there's left to do is take a quick shower and catch up on some much-needed sleep. Rodolfo has been ignoring the painful exhaustion he feels everywhere in his body for the sake of completing his mission, but now, when he’s all safe and sound, it slowly starts catching up to him.
He winces as the milk feels funny on his scraped throat.
That’s another thing he has been fighting down for a couple of days – the gnawing, overwhelming feeling that something is not as it should be. At least, that’s what his immune system is trying to tell him. Rodolfo rubs at his nose and sniffs absently, hoping that it will go away if he ignores it a little bit longer.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that it won’t, though, and the dry cough that rips out of him next only seems to confirm that.
He startles as a voice right beside him pulls him out of his brooding.
“Maybe that’s enough coffee for you, huh?” Alejandro sets his own cup of tea on the table and takes a seat opposite Rodolfo. “It’s not a great time to drink caffeine, no?”
“That’s not coffee,” Rodolfo mumbles and studies the cup. “Chocolate milk.”
Alejandro only sends him a smile. “Good to see you, Rudy. I was starting to get worried. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Rodolfo feels the same. He also was mostly angry, back when he realized the mission is not going to take three days, as the intel said, but about six instead. Now, however, when he’s back intact, chatting with Alejandro, he can’t find all that anger in himself – like it melted into weariness he is currently suffering through twice as hard.
“Well, it’s been about a week,” he chooses to squash down the negative feelings, again, “But I’m glad to be back already. Sorry for worrying you.”
Right when Alejandro opens his mouth to speak, Rodolfo feels the familiar tickling in the back of his nose. Frantically putting the glass back at the table in order to not spill the milk he already forgot about, he lets out a muffled sneeze into the crook of his elbow. When he raises his head again with tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, Alejandro looks at him in sympathy.
“Salud. You alright?”
“Sorry,” Rudy mutters, running a hand across his face. Suddenly he’s feeling so bad that he has no idea how he survived those previous days. There is an immovable force between his eyes, spiking with pain anytime he makes a move too hasty. “Just tired, that’s all.”
Alejandro helps him collect his tray and bring it back to the kitchen. It’s a nice gesture and greatly appreciated, considering that Rodolfo busies himself with blinking away tears and sniffling away the runny nose that’s starting to feel stuffy. When they’re leaving the cafeteria, he takes a moment to sneeze twice in a row into his elbow again. Great.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Alejandro pats him on the back, then drags him gently through the corridor. “Have you been to medical?”
“Yes,” The thought of having to wait even longer for rest makes him a little dizzy, so the lie easily makes its way past his lips. “It’s fine.”
Rodolfo doubts that Alejandro will believe that, but, as surprising as he always is, the other man only nods, giving him a final clap on the back as he steps away. Rodolfo has to remind himself not to frown or blink in bewilderment, shocked that his blatant lie went through unnoticed. Turns out there are miracles in this world after all, and this is one of them.
Alejandro wishes him a good night and turns away, an unreadable expression on his face. Rodolfo doesn’t have the time to trouble himself with that, and definitely doesn’t bother with turning to look as Alejandro leaves. As much as he loves the man, now the only priority for him is to stumble into his room and rack out for at least seven hours. Maybe even eight, if the miracle spree is still rolling.
But sometimes things go wrong just as you think they’ll finally go right, and Rodolfo’s body chooses this moment for him to have a coughing fit. Miracles be damned, he leans against the wall for some support, desperately trying to catch his breath. That leaves him even more lightheaded than before, which is somehow still possible, and he tries to silence the coughs enough to stop the dizziness. He has half a mind to just slide down the wall and sleep here, on the cold floor, until he feels slightly better. He almost does that, but it’s right when his coughing stops that he realizes there are hands gripping his shoulders and a face in front of him.
“See, I knew you weren’t fine.” Apparently, he wasn’t smooth enough with his lie to fool Alejandro. Damn him. “Of course you didn’t fool me, I have eyes, you know.”
Did he say that out loud? That’s not what is supposed to be happening. Rodolfo groans slightly, pressing his palms over his eyes. The building pressure behind them that makes his headache feel like a loud engine inside his head is almost unbearable, and he focuses on it so much that he doesn’t notice Alejandro pulling him away from the nice, chilly wall.
Alejandro helps him stay upright when they start making their way down the corridor. “Come on, hermano, let’s get you to bed.”
Rodolfo doesn’t even want to protest this time. He only sniffles and lets out small coughs while Alejandro drags him into his room. That is not how is planned his evening, and it is certainly not how he wants to be spending it. But beggars can’t be choosers, so he sits obediently on the bed when Alejandro looks around Rudy’s room.
“Where are your pajamas?” Alejandro asks him at one point, shooting him a questioning look.
His words seem to not reach Rodolfo’s ears, though, as he barely offers a response.
“Uh…”
“Nevermind. Found them.”
A pile of clothes is shoved into Rodolfo’s hands, and he uses the last bit of his strength to raise his head and look Alejandro in the eyes. This is weird. A common cold shouldn’t slow down his whole body like that, but here we are.
“Be honest with me,” Alejandro says, furrowing his brow. “When did you start feeling sick?”
Rodolfo takes his sweet, sweet time to dwell on that question.
“A couple of days ago.” He finally mumbles, swaying slightly on the bed. “The weather was awful.”
A low hum of acknowledgement comes from Alejandro as he presses his palm against Rudy’s forehead.
“Well, you definitely have a fever,” he sighs, moving his hand to Rodolfo’s neck. “I’ll get you some water while you change your clothes. Is that alright?”
“Sure.”
“You won’t fall over while I’m gone?”
“No.”
The next time Rudy blinks, he finds himself alone in the room. Changing his outfit is a slow, confusing process, but he gets it done anyway. Right when he’s carelessly throwing his old clothes on the chair, promising himself he’ll clean up later, the door opens and Alejandro returns with his arms full.
“I assume you didn’t fall over?” Alejandro asks with a smile and presses two pills into Rudy’s hand. “Painkillers. Will help with the headache.”
Rodolfo swallows the pills and takes a big sip of water after sitting heavily on the bed. Alejandro takes the bottle away from him and holds up a plastic thermometer. “Temperature, hermano.”
The little device doesn’t tell them anything new. Alejandro just nods at the result thoughtfully and snatches the thermometer away when Rudy reaches out to take it.
“It’s fine, Rudy. Lay back down.”
Rodolfo surrenders, burrowing himself in the sheets but doesn’t stop shooting Alejandro an offended look. “Why can’t I see? Am I dying?”
“No, no, don’t worry. It’s just a light fever.”
Luckily for Alejandro, Rodolfo turns his head away to cough and doesn’t have any energy left to argue. Fine. At least now there’s nothing that would disturb him from getting some sleep that he waited so long for, so he shuts his eyes and sighs deeply. His bed is more comfortable than he ever remembers it being.
He peeks at Alejandro through lowered eyelids when the man pats him softly on the head.
“What?”
“Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
He thinks he catches Alejandro smiling and muttering a response, but his eyes seem to not listen to him anymore as they close on their own accord and he falls into a shallow sleep.
…
When he wakes up he can tell it’s not dark outside anymore by the delicate sun rays shining through the drawn curtains. His muscles are stiff and his throat is so sore and dry like a desert that he can’t help but groan when he rolls onto his back. The soft murmur of voices he didn’t even realise he heard in the background stops, and when he blinks his eyes open, Alejandro is right next to him.
“Hi,” the man smiles, putting the back of his palm on Rodolfo’s forehead again. “You’ve been out for some time, Rudy, do you need anything?”
Instead of answering, Rodolfo suddenly remembers he heard several voices from somewhere in his room, so he strains his arms to lift himself up a little and peeks around Alejandro to look about. After his gaze lands on the table near the corner of the room, he spots Soap and Ghost, both clutching playing cards in their hands.
“Hey, Rudy,” Soap is first to break the silence, sending his friend a small smile. “How are you doing?”
When Rudy just gapes at them, wondering if he’s already hallucinating or not, Alejandro clears his throat.
“They just wanted to check up on you. See if you’re alright.” He explains, rubbing Rudy's shoulder. “Do you need anything?”
Rodolfo’s voice comes out as a whisper. “Water would be nice.”
Alejandro helps him take a sip while Ghost and Soap return to whatever game they were playing before Rudy woke up. It looks like Ghost is winning, if the grim face Soap makes is anything to go by.
Alejandro puts the plastic bottle away and crouches in front of Rodolfo, talking in a low voice. “Do you wanna join the game?”
Rodolfo glances at Soap loudly accusing Ghost of cheating while desperately trying to take a look at his cards, yelling something about the number one. He brings his gaze back to Alejandro’s worried stare. “Nope. I don’t think so.”
“Okay. I’m here if you need anything.”
The last thing Rudy hears before falling back into sleep is Ghost telling Soap to sod off. Thankfully some things are as normal as they usually are around here.
…
The next time he wakes, he can tell the fever is gone. He still feels weird and not fully functional, but at least the unsettling confusion and chills have passed. He can even grab the water bottle and take a big swig all by himself, which he considers the greatest of his successes in the past twenty-four hours.
One look around the room tells him that he’s alone. Rodolfo has no idea how much time has passed, and the sun shining outside doesn’t tell him anything else besides the fact that it’s not night. It could be an early morning, a late afternoon or an early evening. Or anything else in between.
He drags himself out of bed after about ten minutes of laying completely still and stumbles into the small bathroom. With each step, he shakes himself more and more awake and by the time he reaches the shower all his sickness just feels like he took a long, insanely deep nap.
Alright. He could live with that.
Taking a shower does not prove itself to be challenging. In fact, it’s as easy as it always is. But by the time he puts on his clothes again, unlocks the door and steps out of the bathroom, Alejandro waits for him with a slightly panicked look on his face.
“There you are, Rudy. Are you alright?”
Alejandro shifts his weight from one foot to another as Rodolfo simply nods and steps closer to him. There is a moment there, as they stand next to each other, Alejandro sending him a questioning look. Rodolfo stops hesitating, smiles even wider, glad that he’s already up and about, and brings his arms around Alejandro, trapping him in a hug. The other man returns the embrace, putting one hand on the back of Rudy’s head.
“Thank you for helping me out,” Rodolfo mumbles into Alejandro’s shoulder.
“Of course,” Alejandro takes a breath before planting a soft kiss on Rudy’s temple. “You’re still going to a doctor, though. I’m not a professional medic.”
Rodolfo just chuckles slightly as Alejandro strokes his hair. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t find it in himself to argue, because, honestly, who would? But if that’s where catching a cold gets him, maybe he should consider getting sick a bit more often.