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Alejandro is not a man who scares easily.
However.
When it comes to Rudy, there is something like anxiety that settles in his gut, a tight cord that knots and double knots itself as he tries to imagine actually doing anything that could be explicitly categorised as 'making a move'. The idea of opening his mouth for a real, complete confession makes his palms sweat more than anything about his job ever has—more than even Valeria, and everything that made their relationship up, ever did.
In his most frustrated moments, he doesn't understand why. Rudy has been his friend for years, for nearly a lifetime, and there's nothing about Alejandro that doesn't trust him with everything. Yet somehow, as soon as his brain caught up with his heart and he realised that Rudy was capital-I It for him, suddenly he's turned into a bit of a nervous wreck about the whole thing.
If he could go back to being oblivious about the romantic nature of his feelings for his best friend, that would be great.
Despite the tight anxiety coiling in the pit of his stomach, Alejandro is no coward. He knows how to flirt with people, how to put the right pressure on the right words, and turn normal actions into weighted gestures with slight changes to his gaze.
So, maybe the thought of verbalising his affections for Rudy makes him physically recoil, but that doesn't mean he can't try anything else. He sets the drink down in front of Rudy, sliding into the seat next to him and bumping their shoulders together. "My treat."
"My hero," Rudy replies, quirking a lip. He's a polite, straightforward guy, most of the time, but occasionally, when it's just the two of them and they're away from prying eyes, he'll tease Alejandro with a slightly dry sense of humour. Alejandro feels warmed to hear it, to know he's one of the few who does. "What's the occasion?"
Alejandro shrugs. "No occasion. Just wanted to."
He wraps his fingers around his own glass, slow and deliberate, and lets one corner of his mouth raise while his eyes darken, drinking in Rudy as easily as the alcohol.
"What?" Rudy asks, suddenly tense in his shoulders. "You're looking at me strangely."
Alejandro pulls back, relaxing his posture and giving himself a mental shake. "Sorry. Didn't mean to."
Rudy presses their shoulders together again. "All good, Ale. You okay?"
Alejandro tries not to watch Rudy's hands as he picks up his drink or his throat as he swallows, and fails on both counts. "Yes," he answers, forcing his voice to come out evenly. "Of course."
Rudy doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't ask again.
Alejandro likes to think that he's a complimentary person. He does his best to toss out praise to his men, whether for jobs well done or sillier things when they're back at their base, playing darts or poker. He laughs easily at jokes and tells people when he thinks they're particularly funny or clever. When people share stories of letters or gifts they're sending back home, he has no hesitation to call them sweet or kind or thoughtful.
The long and the short of it is that he tries to be kind with his words when it's appropriate, and he always thinks it's appropriate to compliment Rudy. Rudy has long since stopped being flustered by Alejandro sharing his (correct) thoughts on how cool and smart and interesting he is, because Alejandro has been sharing these thoughts since they were pre-teens racing through the streets of Las Almas on hand-me-down bikes, laughing both with and at each other.
So Alejandro is surprised, though not unpleasantly so, when he says, "You look good," and Rudy freezes.
Rudy turns to him, staring at him like he's grown a second head. "What?"
"You look good," Alejandro repeats with a tiny smirk, shrugging like his heart isn't racing in his chest.
Rudy continues to stare for a second, like he's not quite sure what to do with this or he's debating if he needs to call a medic, before he nods carefully. "Okay," he says. "You, too."
He leaves the room and leaves Alejandro to debate whether or not he can count this particular attempt at flirting as a success.
The thing is, Alejandro isn't used to this whole 'pining' thing.
Not to sound inordinately cocky, but for the most part, he hasn't ever had to pine. He knows he's an attractive guy, knows that when he turns on a little bit of charm he can get almost anyone falling into his bed. (In this, as in most things, Valeria has been the exception—he'd fallen into her bed, rough and tumble in a way that had been...fun, but not really what he wanted forever. He just hadn't known, at the time, what it was that he wanted.)
Thoughts of Valeria aside, he's confident in his ability to see someone he likes and take them home. He does so rarely, these days, in part because he lives on base most of the time and doesn't want to risk compromising himself or his men, and in part because he's hopelessly gone on Rudy. He looks at himself in the mirror and mentally reminds himself that he knows how to do this.
He thinks of how many stupidly cheesy lines he's pulled off by being confident and smiling just so. And maybe it's because he's been drinking a little already, or maybe it's because he's full to bursting with affection for Rudy and doesn't know where to put it, but he leaves the bathroom with a renewed, and possibly misplaced, confidence.
Alejandro purrs pick-up lines in a way that turns them into swoon-worthy compliments, making people laugh and touch his arm, returning his smiles and heady looks with ease. When they are in American bars, like tonight, he defaults to Spanish ones, knowing that the recipient, even if they are familiar with the language, will ask what it means, and he lets the conversation flow from there. This is a routine that Rudy, who is never far from Alejandro's side if he can help it, has seen many times. Somehow, he forgot to factor this in when he approaches Rudy from behind and leans down to whisper in his ear, hand on his upper arm.
Rudy starts, turning his head to face Alejandro. He doesn't pull away, which Alejandro takes as a positive sign, and for a few beats, they just look at each other. Alejandro swears he sees Rudy flush and swallow, though it's very difficult to say in the low light of the bar.
Then Rudy laughs, pulling back and shaking his head. "You must be more drunk than I thought."
"Why?" Alejandro frowns. It's not a statement that makes much sense to him.
"To use one of your lines on me? Please, Ale." Rudy laughs again, and maybe it's just Alejandro, but it sounds oddly tight. "Come on, let's get you out of here."
It's not the outcome that Alejandro was hoping for, but he's helpless against Rudy's kind eyes. He follows. He doesn't end up in anyone's bed but his own, and he is there alone.
He isn't even trying to flirt when he wraps his arms around Rudy after a particularly nasty mission.
Neither of them had been anywhere near the fire, but the smell of smoke caught in Alejandro's nose anyway, sending phantom heat down his spine and turning his eyes unconsciously to where Rudy stood beside him. None of their men were lost, and Rudy was still breathing normally. He has to keep those two facts on a constant loop in the back of his mind as they travel back to their base, and even then, the moment they are free to be alone, he tugs Rudy close to him and just...holds him there.
Rudy responds in kind, murmuring assurances and promises that he cannot possibly keep as he keeps his arms around Alejandro for a good long while. No one bothers them, and Alejandro is grateful for the opportunity to cling to his best friend without any pressure to stop. Rudy would never push him away, even if there was no obvious reason for this outpouring of affection, but Rudy also understands that there is, and so he takes it easily.
"This is nice," Alejandro murmurs some indeterminate amount of time later, voice a little hoarse and emotional. "Why don't we do this more?"
Rudy doesn't answer. He just brushes his fingers through Alejandro's hair and keeps holding him. Alejandro thinks he could confess everything right now, can feel his emotions settling heavily in his mouth, just beneath his tongue, but—
He doesn't want Rudy to let go of him yet.
As it turns out, Alejandro might be a little bit of a coward after all.
It's always nice to team up with the 141 again, even if it means that the circumstances are dire and that there is probably some kind of world-ending threat hanging in the balance. The adrenaline is high, the stakes higher, and they get to see friends who they don't see very often.
Between missions, they relax together, playing stupid games and trading gossip about people who they may or may not know. They drink, if they know they'll have more than a stolen night's rest before they're off saving the world again. Alejandro can think of much worse situations to be in than sitting on a couch next to Soap, watching Rudy and Ghost inexpertly making drinks.
"You, too, huh?" Soap says suddenly, voice low but weighted, jerking his chin towards the sight.
It takes Alejandro less than a beat to get it. "How is it you say—Aye."
Soap laughs, taking his terrible Scots in the same stride that Alejandro takes his terrible Spanish. He knocks their fists together. "Reckon you've got a better shot than I have. Rodolfo looks at you like...I don't know what."
"Oh," Alejandro jokes, "I thought you meant Ghost."
Soap punches him on the arm.
Alejandro grins, then shakes his head. "I have been...trying," he admits. "It hasn't been going well."
"Find that hard to believe."
Alejandro shrugs. "It is what it is."
Soap snorts, but before he can say anything else, Ghost and Rudy have returned with another round of questionable drinks and the conversation moves on to much lighter topics.
The evening wears on, and they're looking forward to a lazy morning without training or missions—a rarity, on base—so they take their time winding down and enjoying each other's company. Eventually, Soap and Ghost retire to their rooms, leaving Rudy and Alejandro alone in the common space, pleasantly warm from the drinking and (at least in Alejandro's case) being close to each other.
Alejandro feels content in a way that he only ever does around Rudy, warm and safe, and he remembers realising that this is what he wants forever because of the same feeling erupting in his chest when Rudy smiled at him. He'd been feeling it for longer than he'd ever realised and it had come to a head in a moment not unlike this one, soft and casual and away from danger, with a soft smile, meant just for him.
They're both tired, sleepy and relaxed, already halfway to laying down together on the too-small sofa, when Rudy mumbles, "We should go to bed."
"Just stay," Alejandro says before he can think better of it. "Comfortable."
Rudy laughs, and his breath hits Alejandro's skin. They're closer to each other than he thought.
For a moment, everything feels like it hangs in the balance. Alejandro doesn't know what he'll do if Rudy pulls away, but it would feel like an answer to his still unspoken confession. Alejandro tries not to hold his breath, but he isn't entirely successful.
Rudy sighs, sounding just as content as Alejandro feels, and slides even closer. They lay together, and this too feels like an answer, like maybe Alejandro had been going about this all wrong from the start. Rudy is his best friend, and has been for most of his life, and although Alejandro doesn't know when he started loving him, he knows how to love him, and it's like this: with affection and trust.
"Rudy," he murmurs, but Rudy is already asleep.
Alejandro smiles, and resolves to use his words in the morning.
They're woken up by the sound of light laughter and an exasperated voice saying, "Johnny."
Alejandro blinks awake to find Rudy's weight half on top of him and the man in question lifting his head to rub at his eyes. "Morning," he says, unable to disguise the fondness in his voice.
Soap stops bothering trying to hold in his laughter, but as it sounds teasing, affectionate, Alejandro doesn't even waste the energy on flipping him off. He instead rests his hand on Rudy's waist, thinking that he might just be allowed. When he's rewarded with a warm, sleepy smile, he knows he's right.
"Mornin'" Soap greets, and Alejandro doesn't need to look to envision the shit-eating grin on his face.
"Johnny," Ghost says again, long-suffering.
"Ghost," Rudy says, without taking his eyes off of Alejandro. "Please take your novio out of here."
It's Alejandro's turn to laugh as Soap sputters (although whether or not he understands the word is unclear). Ghost, whose Spanish is—better, though his accent is still rough, doesn't deny it. Instead, he just says, "Not my fault you fell asleep with yours in a public place."
"Ghost," Rudy says again, pleasantly. "Get out."
Ghost gets out, taking Soap with him.
Alejandro likes them, considers them friends, but he has never been happier to see them leave. As the door swings shut behind them, Rudy captures his mouth in a kiss.
It's a brief thing, feather-light but Alejandro beams anyway, chasing Rudy when he pulls away. Rudy uses his hand to cover his mouth, grinning playfully. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."
Alejandro licks his palm so he'll pull his hand away, but the problem with knowing someone for twenty years is that they are no longer grossed out by anything about you. He just raises his eyebrows, smiling. It's a gentle expression, and Alejandro feels himself falling all over again.
After a beat, Rudy does pull his hand away, and Alejandro kisses him again, a sort of desperate fervour in it, even as he keeps himself reeled in, keeps the kiss gentle.
"I have been trying to do that for months," Alejandro admits.
"Not hard enough," Rudy teases. "I would've let you, if I'd known."
He weighs up the pros and cons of explaining to Rudy what exactly he'd been doing in an attempt to communicate this, and decides that those stories can come out later. For now, he smiles fondly and says, "I know. I love you."
Rudy returns the sentiment, kisses him again, and then suggests that they go somewhere with a door that locks. Alejandro is all too happy to comply, grinning like he’s won the world.