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Fidel and Che had finally finished setting up camp with the rest of the men. They sat around a small fire, huddled together. Che's way of storytelling made the men erupt into fits of laughter as he recounted his times in Latin America with Alberto. Fidel, who sat on the opposing side of the bonfire took advantage of this downtime to admire the way the flickering flames lit up the young commanders face. He had only been seeing him in the shadows of the cuban forest, the leaves overhead denying him the sunlight that illuminated Che's features. His eyes always looked so pretty in the light, what a shame. He rested his chin in his palm, he listened to Che's story. He mumbled the words Che spoke as he told the story, Fidel had heard it dozens of times. He memorized every detail of it by this point.
A smile crept its way onto his face, shaking his head, trying not to laugh at the same joke he had heard retold again and again. Plus his men surrounded him, it was important that he remained stoic. Even if the urge to chuckle after hearing about Che flying off "La Poderosa" was almost irresistible. After a few more rounds of Camilo's flask being passed around in a circle, disappointed whining arose from the group of bearded-rebels as they found it empty. They collectively seemed to agree this meant they should call it a night, though many dragged their feet returning to their tents, knowing they may not be so fortunate as to enjoy such downtime in the near future.
Camilo drunkly said his goodbyes to Che and Fidel, as if they would never see eachother again. Che laughed, finding Camilo's state endearing, gesturing for him to go back to his tent. Fidel was grateful for the seven hour break that sleep would grant him from Camilo. After Camilo stumbled back to his tent, wailing about his love for the two of them, Only Fidel and his most loyal soldier remained. Che cleared his throat, trying to pretend as if the smoke didnt bother him. "Fidel, does the fire bother your eyes?" He tilted his head, taking note of Castro's glossed over eyes. Fidel shook his head, quickly. "I apologize, Ernesto. Alcohol always makes me sappy." He glanced back to their tent, he couldn't wait a moment longer to embrace the cot that hours earlier he cursed at for falling in on itself.
Che noticed the way Fidel's eyes begged for his body to retreat for the night. He stood up and made his way to their tent, holding the flap open for him. Fidel nodded at him as a way to show his gratitude for the gesture. Che zipped the tent up after he followed Castro inside. He dug around in his bag, before struggling to take his shirt off over his head. He tossed it aside, sitting down on the edge of his cot. Fidel sat on the opposing side of the tent, making no attempt to divert his gaze.
"Fidel, Problemo?" The Argentine tilted his head, off put by the man's eyes focused on his. "Forgive me-" He stumbled over his words, taking his hat off, discarding it under his cot. "-I can't help myself, Ernesto."
He reached over to the lantern that sat at his feet, flicking it on before kneeling down before the younger man. Che's body instantly tensed up, frightened by the sudden shift in Fidel from his commander to his lover. "Fidel? You told me we wouldn't do these things with other men so close." He shifted his legs shut, hesitantly. The Cuban's hands slid between Che's tightly locked knees, spreading his legs open once again. His hands slid up from his thighs, to his exposed body. Finally stopping when his calloused hands gently cradled his second-in-command's face. "I believe tonight could be an exception, no? Por favor, te necesito, Ernesto." His constant stoic glare melted off of his face, being replaced with a pitiful look of desperation. Che sighed reluctantly, leaning his head into Fidel's hands. "De acuerdo. Tú ganas." The man mumbled.
As soon as the Cuban was granted permission, he locked lips with the younger Argentine, embracing him passionately on the cot that was struggling to support the weight of the two. Fidel's fingers quickly found themselves tangled in Che's hair, Che's hands fumbling with the buttons of his commander's uniform. Castro tugged on Che's hair slightly, causing him to let out small murmurs of pleasure. Fidel leaned into his neck, taunting him. "Who knew?" Che snickered, before noticing something in the corner of his eye. He quickly tossed his shirt on Fidel, trying to cover him. Someone was outside of the tent. He hurried over, peaking his head outside of their tent to be greeted by Camilo, to Fidel's dismay. Che smiled and walked outside to see what he needed. "Camilo? You need something at this hour?"
He said, patting sweat off of his forehead with his handkerchief. "Si, Si. Raul, he got bit by a mosquito. He is really frightened, thinks hes gonna die." He giggled at the man's overreaction. "Though he might be having an allergic reaction.." Che took a deep breath in. Him and Fidels affairs would have to wait for another night.