Tell Me Where It Hurts

Summary: After Domingo's unexpected altercation with Nacho, Solana takes extra good care of him. Entirely hurt/comfort, nothing more.

Rating: Mature

Media: Better Call Saul

Pairing: Domingo “Krazy-8” Molina/Solana Salazar (oc)

Word Count: ~6k

CW: Medical, injuries, mention of physical violence, mention of blood, suggestive dialogue and situation (but no actual explicit stuff), prescription drug usage (both proper use and abuse)

(Note: I know gallo pinto is a Costa Rican and Nicaraguan dish, but Solana likes to make food from all over the world, not just Mexico and the US. She also makes French toast in this fic if that helps. And I, and therefore Solana via being a self insert, am mixed and of Mexican heritage if the other things don't get my point across that I am not lumping together all Latam foods. Have some common sense.)

…

Tonight's dish– gallo pinto. Solana's favorite to make, Domingo's favorite to eat. Something close to the rice and beans they would eat growing up in New Mexico, but better. Solana and her affinity for worldwide cuisine is always a pleasant thing. Domingo is not home yet, still taking care of some business, considering it is Tuesday. Solana got off work early, Mari and Angelina claiming they could cover the rest of the shift, so here she is, making dinner.

There is always music playing when Solana cooks. She says that when she sings along, it adds to the flavor. Adds more love. Domingo is happy to believe that, if it makes her smile. As she cooks the gallo pinto, she's covering a mixtape of her favorite Everclear songs that Domingo made for her some time ago, her voice echoing in the kitchen. Clearly, her rendition of “Father of Mine” is going to make the food taste better.

As she's putting the finishing touches on dinner, she hears the keys to the front door jingle and unlock. Solana flashes a smile and goes to greet Domingo, but something is off. He's walking slowly, with his head down. She knits her eyebrows in concern.

“Domingo, baby, you okay?” She asks, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He looks at her, and she now sees why he was obscuring his face. Someone has done a number on him– there are contusions and lacerations all over, blood has been dripping down his face and is now dried on, and his eyes are swollen. The biggest cut is across the bridge of his nose, and a spot on his lower lip is bleeding.

“Fuck,” Solana says softly, running gentle fingers along his jaw. “What happened to you, Domingo?”

Domingo sighs before meeting her gaze. “It's work related. Are you sure you want to hear?”

Solana nods. “You're hurt. Of course I want to know what happened.”

He gestures to the couch. “Can I sit down?”

She nods again and puts a hand around his shoulders, guiding him over to the couch. He winces and sighs as he settles in, and Solana kneels at his feet.

“So what happened?” She asks again.

“One of my guys didn't pay up, so I was a little light. At first, Nacho didn't really care, he just told me to make it up next week. I was on my way back to the van, but then he came outside and grabbed me, took me back in the restaurant, and started beating the shit out of me. He dragged me into the kitchen and hit me with plates and stuff. Broke a couple over my head. Kicked me while I was down, then threw me out when he was done.”

Solana looks at him in shock. “Mierda, Domingo…why did he do that? Change his mind on a dime? That's not like Nacho.”

Domingo shrugs. “I don't know. I guess because Don Hector was there.”

She groans in annoyance. “Don Hector? I'm sorry, I know you work for the guy, but he is so…there's not a word in English or Spanish to describe what he is. I'll leave it at that.”

“Yeah, I'm not the biggest fan of him either, but he's a Salamanca, so…”

Solana rolls her eyes. “Salamancas…insane, all of them. I'll give Nacho a pass for this, since he was acting on orders, but…dios mío, he really did a number on you, Domingo. Why didn't you come into the clinic after this? I was probably still at work.”

He looks down at his hands, folded in his lap. “I didn't want Mari to know Nacho did this.”

“Yeah, she probably would’ve ripped his head off when he got home. Probably still will if she finds out now. But still, you should've done something about this. Wiped the blood, used an alcohol wipe, put some ice on it, something.”

“I know,” he says, a tinge of regret in his voice. “I just couldn't find the time, you know? I thought you’d be able to take care of it now.”

Solana tilts her head and smiles at him. “Of course I will. I'll go get the first aid kit, okay? I'll get you cleaned up so you can eat the gallo pinto while it is still fresh.”

Domingo smiles and sighs. “Ah, gallo pinto. That actually sounds so good right now.”

“Good,” Solana says as she stands up. “I'll be right back.”

She goes to the bedroom to grab the first aid kit, and Domingo watches as she disappears into the hallway. Once she's out of view, he leans his head back on the couch and gives a heavy exhale, closing his tired eyes just for a moment. Domingo knows that Nacho only did this because of Hector, but it still hurts– and not just physically– that his friend of so many years did that to him.

There’s not much time to even think on it before Solana comes back. She places the first aid kit on the couch between herself and Domingo, and opens it to reveal a selection of supplies far more advanced than the typical household would have. Things from work. First, she puts on a pair of gloves, then pulls out an alcohol wipe.

“I'm gonna clean off the blood, it might sting a little,” Solana warns him, and begins to gently wipe over his bloody face.

Domingo winces and hisses through his teeth when the alcohol hits his open wounds, earning a soft apology from Solana as she continues. Her touch is so gentle that he honestly doesn't care about the pain. Being taken care of like this overrides any negativity he could possibly feel.

Soon, Solana has cleaned much of the dried blood off of his face, and she can properly view the injuries that Nacho left– at least, the external ones. The lacerations are rather superficial, some steri-strips ought to keep them closed up. The contusions are already dark and swollen, she'll have him apply a cold compress. A spot on his lower lip is split open, but not enough to warrant sutures. She feels Domingo's nose, it isn't broken, luckily. To finish up, she applies steri-strips to each of his open wounds.

“He hit you in the head pretty bad,” Solana muses. “You might have a concussion. I'm tempted to take you back to the clinic and scan your head.”

Domingo shakes his head and groans at the pain it causes. “No, it's fine. I don't think I have a concussion, Sol. I don't have any of the symptoms.”

Solana tilts her head and raises her eyebrows above her glasses. “Domingo, I know you threw up. That's a symptom.”

“How do you–”

She points at his shirt, which has a small stain that he clearly attempted to wash off. “That. It smells like vomit. How many times have you thrown up?”

He sighs. “Only once.”

“Okay, that’s good, no persistent vomiting. I’ll take that as a sign not to take you to the clinic, but if things get worse, into the MRI you go, whether you like it or not.”

“I understand,” Domingo replies. “So, what’s the prognosis, nurse Solana?”

Giggling at his little remark, Solana begins to feel his chest. “The examination is not done, Señor Molina. You said Nacho kicked you when you were down, I can only assume it’s in the upper body that he did so. You’re metering your breathing because of the pain, so I’m guessing he gave you a few kicks in the ribs. Am I correct in that assumption?”

Domingo groans and gives her a defeated look. “Yeah, he did.”

Solana tilts her head, glaring at him for his reluctant, annoyed response. “Okay, I want to feel them. Take off your shirt, please.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He groans again, but this time out of pain as he tries to slip out of his shirt. Solana notices this, and helps him, gently sliding it over his head and tossing it aside. The act is remarkably intimate, as is the feeling of her rubbing her gloved hands over his skin when she feels his ribs. Even though it hurts when she puts pressure on them, Domingo appreciates how soft her touch is otherwise.

“They’re not broken,” Solana says with a sigh of relief. “Bruised, probably. There’s not much you can do but apply a compress.”

“Good,” Domingo says with a small smile. “Can I put my shirt back on now?”

Solana shakes her head. “Nope. That thing had vomit on it, and you didn’t do a great job of scrubbing it off. I'll go get you something more comfortable.”

Before getting up, she closes the first aid kit and gives Domingo a kiss on his less-bruised cheek. Then she heads back down the hallway, discarding her gloves and the wrappers from the supplies in the kitchen trash as she goes.

When she returns, Solana has nothing in her arms. Domingo gives her a confused look, and she holds up a finger.

“I changed my mind. You're going to have dinner, get some food in you. You're gonna take a painkiller, and then I'm going to give you a bath, okay?” Her voice is soft, and she leans on the back of the couch next to his head.

Although Domingo doesn't think he needs help getting clean, he's not about to say no to Solana giving him a little extra care. So he nods in agreement, and Solana nods back, then heads over to the kitchen to serve him dinner.

“Here, eat,” she says as she hands him a full plate. “Get something in your stomach and I'll go grab the pain pills.”

“Thanks,” he responds with a smile, and then digs into his meal. Though a lack of appetite can be a head injury symptom like the vomiting he already experienced, it's clearly not one of his symptoms.

Solana goes back to the kitchen and digs in the medicine cabinet for her prescription painkillers. She drops out four– two for Domingo, and two for herself. It's only fair that she gets high if he's getting high. But she doesn't want him to know, so she takes them while still at the counter. After swallowing both with a glass of water, she takes Domingo his own glass and pills.

When she arrives back at the couch, he's already halfway done with his food. She smiles, knowing he's probably not got too bad of a head injury if he's got that much of an appetite.

“It's really good,” Domingo tells her, gesturing to the plate with a tilt of the head.

Solana smiles. “Thanks. Here, your pills. They're gonna get you kind of zonked, so prepare for that. It's not the high you're used to, but…y'know. Take ‘em.”

She places the pills in Domingo's open palm and gives him the glass of water in the other hand. He takes them and gives her a thumbs up, then continues with his dinner.

“I'm going to start running the bath,” Solana calls as she walks down the hall. “Come in here when you finish eating, okay?”

“I will!” Domingo responds. He then goes to finish his food, puts his plate in the sink once he's done, and then goes down the hall to meet Solana in the bathroom.

She's knelt at the side of the bath, swirling her hands through the water as it continues to run. Looking up at Domingo, she smiles and shuts off the faucet.

“Good, you finished dinner. Feeling nauseous? Or are you okay?” She asks.

“I'm good, dinner was great. Feeling a little dizzy from the pills, though.”

Solana stands up and shakes the water off her hands. “Glad you enjoyed dinner, glad you had enough of an appetite to eat it. You know how those pills make you feel, so get in the bath and relax.”

Domingo nods and smiles at her, then undoes his pants and pulls them and his boxers off at the same time. He climbs into the bathtub, with the help of Solana guiding him in, and he sighs with content as the warm water pools around him and Solana gently runs her hands over his shoulders.

“Feels nice,” Domingo comments.

Solana smiles and continues to massage his shoulders. “I'm glad. I put in some salts to help with the fatigue and pain. I’m gonna get the soap and a washcloth, and get you completely clean.”

He returns the expression and leans back in the bathtub when her hands leave his skin, trying to replace their warmth with that of the water. It's no suitable replacement– nothing is comparable to Solana's delicate touch.

But luckily she comes back with the washcloth and soap, and wastes no time getting to work. Solana first wipes away the more caked on blood that she couldn't remove with the alcohol wipes, scrubbing gently so that it doesn't hurt Domingo. He closes his eyes and allows her to continue until all the blood is removed from his skin.

Once it's gone, Solana dips the washcloth back into the water and then squeezes a significant amount of soap into it. She then begins to lather it over Domingo's chest, massaging lightly into the muscle, earning a soft sigh from him. His head has begun to go fuzzy, the effects of the medication kicking in. Somehow, it makes the sensation of her rubbing his body feel even better.

“Can I wash over your ribs?” Solana asks. “I'll be very careful.”

Domingo nods lazily. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Okay. Let me know if it hurts, yeah?”

He nods again, his eyes half-lidded. The medicine is definitely having an effect on him. In fact, it's making Solana a bit loopy herself. Her movements become more loose, as if time has slowed down. But still, as she runs the washcloth over Domingo's ribcage, Solana maintains her caring, soft touch.

For a while, it's just quiet, the sounds in the room only being the light splashes of Solana's hands in the water as she continues to bathe him. But eventually the silence breaks, when Domingo shifts a bit and the water laps against the sides of the bathtub.

“Sol,” Domingo says quietly, having moved so that he can look directly at her.

“What, am I hurting you?” Solana asks with worry, withdrawing her hands from his body and looking at him apologetically.

“No,” he reassures her, “I just really appreciate this. I appreciate everything you do for me, you know?”

Tilting her head to the side, Solana looks at him with warmth, with eyes half-lidded both from her lust and adoration for him and his comment. Domingo himself looks so goddamn adorable to her, even if his face is injured. Those big brown eyes will always charm her, those soft lips that make for a sweet smile, everything about him is so cute.

“Domingo, baby, I'd do anything for you. And it's because I love you. Don't ever think otherwise.” Solana says this as she gently strokes his hair, beside his ear.

He smiles at her and puts his own hand over hers. “I love you too, Sol. Never thought of myself as worthy of love, but you sure make me feel like I am.”

Smiling back at him, Solana leans forward and kisses him on the lips– a soft, loving kiss that leaves Domingo breathless. She's careful around the spot that had split open in the fight. He reaches forward and puts her face in his hands, his palms holding her cheeks. Even though they’re wet, Solana doesn't care. Her hands mimic his and take his face between them, and she strokes a thumb against his cheek, careful to avoid the obvious injuries.

They kiss for a while, lazily, slowly– probably because of the painkillers, but also because they just want to savor each other. Soft sighs escape between their mouths, and they stop, leaning their foreheads against one another, brushing noses.

“I love you so much, Sol,” Domingo says quietly, reaching out of the bathtub to wrap his arms around her shoulders.

Solana laughs, hugging him back. “You're going to get my clothes all wet. Why don't you get out of the bath and we'll go to bed?”

He sits up and lets her go, nodding at her suggestion. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Standing up and placing hands on his upper arms, Solana helps him stand and get out of the bath. She takes a towel from the rack on the wall and helps him dry off, carefully and slowly rubbing the towel over his body so that he doesn't have to strain himself. When finished with that, Domingo wraps the towel around his waist and the pair go into the bedroom down the hall.

The first thing the two do is change into pajamas– Domingo’s simply being a pair of boxers, and Solana's a tank top and sweatpants. Before Domingo goes to lie in bed, Solana stops him.

“¡Oye! No. Sit on the edge of the bed,” she instructs.

Though he doesn't know why she's telling him to do this, he does it anyway, and waits for her. Solana digs through the items on her vanity and takes a container of lotion under her arm. She then sits down behind Domingo on the bed, and squeezes some of her lotion into her hands.

As she begins to massage him, starting with his upper back, Domingo can't help but moan and lean into her hands. Solana smiles at the sounds he makes and continues to press her fingers and palms into his flesh, kneading the soft skin and muscle and relieving the tension it formerly held.

When her hands have run over every inch of his back, Solana switches positions and kneels at Domingo's feet, placing herself between his knees.

“Whoa,” Domingo says with a nervous laugh, “are you sure you wanna do that?”

She looks at him over the rims of her glasses. “No, we're not doing that, as much as I'd enjoy it. I don't want you to strain yourself, and that's one surefire way to strain yourself.”

Looking down at her, he tilts his head. “You're right. So what are you doing down there?”

Solana sighs. “Just sit there and let me take care of you, okay?”

Domingo smiles. “Okay. I'll just let you take care of me.”

Her hands start out on his thighs, gently rubbing lotion on the inner flesh. Domingo gives a flustered laugh, not knowing how else to react, and places his hand at the side of her face.

“Why are you laughing?” Solana asks with a short scoff of her own. “Does it not feel good?”

“It does, it feels really good, I just…wasn't expecting it to feel that good. Keep going.”

As Solana continues to massage his thighs, moving up over his boxers to his hips, Domingo runs his fingers through her hair. He looks down at her and smiles, and notes that her touch and the drugs are making him more and more tired. His eyelids threaten to close, and he can barely sit up straight.

By the time Solana is up slightly more, crouching where she can still stay on the ground but continue to massage him, he's already halfway asleep. The hand he'd been stroking her face and hair with falls limp against her shoulder, and his body is so loose it threatens to fall down.

“Oh, Domingo,” Solana says with a slow laugh, the drugs beginning to impact her as well.

She crawls up onto the bed and helps Domingo to lie down on the mattress, so very gently. Pulling the covers out from under him and then subsequently wrapping him up in them, Solana snuggles under the blankets, too, and gives Domingo a soft, small kiss on the temple, careful to avoid the bruised part.

Clearly, he's still somewhat conscious, because he smiles at this gesture. One of his arms wraps lazily around her shoulders and pulls her closer, so that her head rests on his chest.

“Mmh…does that not hurt you?” Solana mumbles against his skin.

“Nah, it's fine,” Domingo slurs, his head falling limp against the pillow. “Feels better when you're close to me.”

Solana smiles and sighs contentedly, then asks, “Okay. Will you tell me if anything starts to hurt? If your head feels weird, if you feel nauseous?”

Domingo nods lazily once more. “Yeah. You're gonna watch me all night, eh? Not sleep because you're worried?”

“You have a head injury, Domingo,” Solana replies, “of course I'm watching you. I shouldn't even let you fall asleep, but those pills aren't giving you a chance to stay up.”

He scoffs. “You won't stay up either. ‘Cause of the pills.”

Knitting her brows, Solana sits up on her elbow. “How'd you know I took them too?”

Though Domingo’s eyes are shut, he smiles and laughs slowly, softly. “Dilated pupils, moving in slow motion, half asleep providing wound care…”

Solana feels blush on her cheeks. “I didn't think I'd be that easy to read…I just wanted to get high with you. It's only fair, and prescription drugs are the only high I like. I took advantage. Plus, they're prescribed to me, anyways. I shouldn't have given them to you, it's illegal.”

He laughs again. “Like a Broken Butterfly wouldn't give someone else their prescription drugs. Like you and I are perfect, law-abiding citizens.”

She tilts her head and gives him a stern look. “Hey now, I try my best outside of work.”

“Mhm,” Domingo hums, shifting to pull her closer. “Cálmate, just go to sleep with me.”

“I have to watch you, I can't,” Solana responds, though she doesn't protest him holding her tighter. “But you can. I’ll just watch over you. Go ahead, sleep.”

Domingo nods, so slowly it barely registers as such a gesture, eventually flopping his head against the pillow and finally falling completely asleep. Solana can hear his light snoring and heartbeat with her head against his chest, and it's very calming. It almost makes her want to fall asleep…

But she can't. She has to watch over her beloved, making sure his head injury doesn't cause a problem. It likely won't, as much of what Nacho did was superficial, but Solana only wants the best for Domingo.

Though her eyelids are heavy and the warmth of his arm around her is enticing, Solana forces herself to stay up. She looks at Domingo, taking in his every feature, and then smiles. She's so lucky to have him– that fateful day at Tampico that he'd helped deliver her patio set had to be the best day of her life. The way he'd smiled at her as he helped assemble those chairs and table in her backyard, his sweet demeanor…none of that attraction towards him changed when she found out that he was in the game. In fact, the danger made him even more attractive to her.

Caught up in fond memories, Solana is shaken from her thoughts when Domingo begins groaning in his sleep. His eyebrows scrunch up and he manages to open his eyes and look at Solana.

“Sol…” He manages to say.

“What? Are you okay?” She asks, sitting up and turning on the lamp. “Are you going to throw up? Does something hurt?”

Domingo leans his head back against the pillow. “I think the painkiller wore off. My face fuckin’ hurts, Sol. Can I have another?”

She eyes the clock, then shakes her head. “I'm sorry, but no, baby. It hasn't been long enough for you to have another dose.”

He growls in frustration. “Is there anything else you can do for me? Please, Sol, I can feel my goddamn pulse in my face.”

Sliding out of bed and putting back on her glasses, Solana heads for the door. “I'll go get you a cold compress, and a glass of water with some other meds.”

As Domingo waits on Solana to return, he tries to touch his nose, but recoils and makes a half-angry, half-hurt sound. Coming down from that painkiller is the worst– even more so than coming down from a cocaine high. All of the pain suddenly rushing back, waking him from a peaceful sleep, and the intoxicated feeling fading from his mind. He wants nothing more than another pill and to ravage her, but Solana said those things are not okay right now, so he listens.

She returns with two pills cupped in her hand, a glass of water, and a bag of ice wrapped in several layers of fabric so that it's soft, doesn't leak, and isn't too cold. Solana hands Domingo the pills and water after he sits up, wincing as he notices the pain back in his ribs.

“What are these?” He asks about the pills, taking them with a swig of water before Solana can even say.

She scoffs at his eagerness. “Ibuprofen. What people who don't have access to painkillers take for a headache.”

Domingo gives a weak smirk and takes another sip of water before saying, “I kind of forgot ibuprofen even existed.”

With another little laugh, Solana shuts off the lamp and sits down in bed next to Domingo. She holds the ice pack in her hand and crunches it a few times to crush up the ice a bit, then gingerly presses it against Domingo’s forehead.

At first, he hisses air through his teeth, the sudden cold being unpleasant, but when he adjusts to the temperature, it feels kind of nice. The pounding in his head slows down, at least for a moment. His eyes gaze over at Solana, who once more has taken on their caregiver vibe and is giving him a look that says, “I'm your nurse, and I'm attracted to you, fuck ethics.” 

“Nurse Solana,” he says playfully, “am I allowed to sleep while you hold this thing on my face?”

Solana nods. “Of course. Settle down and let me take care of you, okay?”

Domingo snuggles back into the bed and draws the covers over himself, closes his eyes, and tries to fall back asleep, even with the cold compress making that hard to do.

“Oye, nurse,” he says softly, opening his eyes to look at her. “I think the pain in my lips could be cured with a kiss.”

Solana rolls her eyes and tilts her head. “Something tells me that's not true, Señor Molina. And you'd need a prescription for that.”

He chuckles. “Really? Can't you go off label, like you did with the painkillers? You aren't the world's most ethical nurse, so what's the harm?”

She clicks her tongue. “I guess you're right about that. Alright, I'll give you a kiss to “cure” your lips.”

Domingo smiles as she leans down to kiss him, and he takes the back of her head in his hand. He uses it to pull her closer and deepen what he knows would have just been a little peck had Solana done it her way. The two moan at the same time as their mouths meet– Solana in surprise, Domingo in pleasure. He kisses her passionately, even if it does make his injured lips a bit sore.

And despite his ribs hurting, he tries to pull Solana on top of him, straddling his lap as they continue to make out. Solana pulls away from the kiss and sighs, her nose rubbing against his.

“Domingo, I said we can't do this. You're going to strain yourself.”

He groans in annoyance, his hand gripping her hip even tighter. “C'mon, Sol, I'll be real gentle.”

She shakes her head. “No, Domingo, we're not doing this. As badly as I want to, we can't.”

Solana climbs off his lap and lies down next to him again, removing her glasses and tossing them on the nightstand. Her fingers trace up and down his arm, and her other hand holds the ice pack against his head.

“I'm sorry. You need to heal up first,” she says as she shifts closer to him.

“What about tomorrow?” Domingo asks playfully, settling back into bed and closing his eyes.

“We'll see,” she replies with a soft giggle. “Right now, get some rest.”

“You still going to watch me all night?” He asks.

Solana nods, even though his eyes are shut and he can't see. “It's my duty as your nurse.”

“Mhm…” Domingo hums as he gets closer to sleep, “Okay, Nurse Sol. G'night.”

She leans over and kisses him softly on the lips. “G'night, Señor Molina.”

Domingo finally falls back asleep, his breathing becoming more steady but still metered from the pain. For the most part, he's still and quiet, but occasionally makes little noises of discomfort. Solana gives a sad look each time Domingo makes these noises.

Though she fears it might disturb him, Solana moves the ice pack to different spots on his head, but Domingo stays asleep. After a while, it becomes lukewarm, so Solana tosses it aside and instead leans on her elbow to watch over her beloved. The sleepiness brought on by the painkiller and being up nonstop begins to take its toll on Solana, and she finally knocks out, the last thing she sees being Domingo's sweet face.

…

In the morning, Solana wakes up with her face on Domingo’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall and hearing his heartbeat and breaths as he remains fast asleep. Though she internally scolds herself for falling asleep when she was supposed to be watching him, she can't help but appreciate the situation. One of his arms is curled around her back, and the other holds her arm, which is draped over his torso. Both are wrapped in the comforter, and the warmth is nice. She doesn't want to get up, ever.

But, unfortunately, neither Domingo nor Solana have the luxury of sleeping all day. The alarm on the clock at Domingo’s side of the bed begins going off, and he groans in annoyance and pain as he reaches over blindly to smack the machine until it shuts up.

“You have a shift at Tampico this morning?” Solana mutters into his chest.

Domingo sighs, still not opening his eyes. “Yeah. I really don't wanna go. Dad’s gonna ask about my face.”

Solana shifts to sit up and look at the aforementioned face, and notices the swelling has gone down, at least a bit.

“Just tell him, uh…you got mugged. We use that excuse a lot at the clinic,” Solana says.

He sits up, too, and goes to put his face in his hands, but stops when he realizes it will hurt.

“He’ll be mad regardless of what I tell him,” Domingo sighs, pushing back the covers and stepping out of bed. “You wanna join me in the shower?”

Solana slides out of bed as well. “I’ll get one after you leave for work. I’ll go make you some breakfast. What sounds good?”

With a tinge of childlike hopefulness in his voice, Domingo asks, “French toast?”

Responding with a smile, Solana repeats his words for confirmation. “French toast. On it. Be careful in the shower, okay?”

Domingo gives her a thumbs up and heads down the hall to the bathroom. She shrugs into a robe, slides on some slippers, and puts on her glasses before following suit, but taking her turn into the kitchen.

As Domingo showers, he can hear Solana singing along to the Everclear mixtape again, even over the sounds of cooking and the shower around him. It makes him smile, even if the water hitting his face feels absolutely horrible and makes him want to do anything but smile. Her voice was so pleasant to listen to, whether singing or talking. He could listen to Solana cover every song ever made, and still not tire of her voice.

After he finishes his shower, puts on deodorant, styles his hair with gel, and touches up his facial hair, he returns to the bedroom and reaches into the closet for one of many Tampico polo shirts. He's reminded of the one from yesterday, on the floor of the living room with a partially cleaned vomit stain, and reminds himself to put it in the laundry later. Domingo slides into the shirt, wincing from the pain, then pulls on a new pair of underwear and a pair of black slacks. He hates those pants, but his dad only allows employees to wear jeans on Friday. What a stupid rule.

Domingo puts on his socks and shoes and slides his belt through the loops on his slacks, walking down the hall as he buckles it. He finishes doing so as Solana presents him with a plate of French toast, made just the way he likes it. Generous with the syrup, whipped cream, and baked in a way so that it's softer rather than crunchy. It also looks pretty– all of Solana's food does, always. He sits down at the kitchen counter on one of the barstools and gets right to his breakfast.

“Thanks, Sol,” he says around a mouthful of bread, digging in immediately. “It's so good.”

Solana smiles and leans over the island. “I'm glad you think so. How are you feeling? You want some ibuprofen? I won't let you go to work high, you only get the weak stuff.”

Domingo scoffs and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before saying, “Nah, I think I feel a lot better. Do I look better?”

Tilting her head and observing the wounds and bruises on his face, Solana nods. “Yeah, better than yesterday. You could probably take the steri-strips off, it looks like the lacerations scabbed over.”

He nods back, unable to speak with a mouthful of French toast. Solana watches him, and notices that she didn't get him a drink. She rushes to grab a glass from the cabinet and pour him some water, which he happily takes and sips between bites.

“Do you have work?” Domingo asks Solana before taking another bite.

She shrugs. “I'm on call. Mari or Angelina will let me know if I have to come in. Otherwise, I'm free.”

Domingo finishes his French toast and drops the fork on the now-empty plate, then takes a swig of water and stands up.

“So, you'd be free to make me lunch on my lunch break?” He asks with a hopeful smile.

Solana nods. “Unless somebody needs me at the clinic, then sure. What are you thinking for lunch?”

He tilts his head and looks up in thought for a moment before speaking. “Is it a problem to make gallo pinto again? That stuff last night was so good.”

She smiles and steps up to him, lacing her fingers through his on both hands. “No problem at all. I'm glad you liked it.”

Domingo glances at the clock, noting how close it’s getting to work time, and he reluctantly lets go of Solana's hands.

“I gotta get to work, Sol,” he says, nodding at the clock.

Solana groans in annoyance. “I know. Alright, let me walk with you to the door.”

The two walk to the front door, although neither want to leave the house. Domingo opens it halfway, then pulls Solana into a kiss, holding her by the lower back. She giggles into his lips and runs her hands over his sides, gingerly so as not to hurt his ribs.

“I'll see you at lunch,” Domingo says after breaking the kiss. “I love you, Sol.”

“See you at lunch,” Solana replies, patting him gently on the shoulder. “I love you too.”

Domingo parts with a smile, then disappears behind the door. Solana sighs, wanting to drag him back into the house and spend the day with him, but instead heads over to the kitchen island and begins to clean up the dishes.

This afternoon's dish– gallo pinto. At least she has that to look forward to.