It took some yelling, straining, cursing, and Gyro laughing for you and Johnny to pull the hooked fish to shore. With all your effort, you hoped a legendary cajaro would emerge from the water, but you were disappointed to see a small catfish wriggling on the surface. Johnny groaned in frustration, and you sat down beside him, panting, tired from the three long minutes of helping him pull the fish and trying to muster the strength to ignore Gyro's teasing.
Despite honorable efforts, that fish was no more than twelve inches and it was impossible to feed it to three hungry people. You stood there and watched as Johnny held the fish in his hands to make sure it didn't jump back into the water, taking a few punches to the face from the animal.
''Shit, Gyro!'' He could be heard cursing. ''Can you help us out?!"
''Nyo-ho! Why are you saying that? You're doing well!''
''Mierda!'' You interrupted them. ''This is too small for the three of us. Gyro, you get the fish ready, I'll get some more.''
''Huh?'' Gyro looked confused at your sudden orders, then questioned. ''Do you want to fish some more? Don't you think we've wasted too much time already?''
''I won't use the fishing rod.''
''What are you planning to do? Fish with your mouth like a bear?'' The Italian scoffed.
The effects of fatigue and hunger should have dissuaded one from this idea, but you had to make it work. Gyro and Johnny watched silently as you took off your boots and some accessories.
Not caring about getting your clothes or hair wet, you carefully walked into the lake and used the clear water to look for rocks. Cascudos, you thought. There is only one way to fish cascudos: by getting wet and catching them with your hands. The water was bitterly cold, and you shivered, feeling your shoulders tingle as you stepped into the lake and felt the mud sink lightly into you.
You searched for cascudos on the rocks at the bottom of the lake and approached cautiously when you found a few. With a sudden movement, you tried to grab one with your hands, but you had forgotten that this type of fish had no scales and was therefore much more slippery. Refusing to let the fish escape, you were forced to plunge into the water to catch it with both hands. A loud, tired sigh escaped your mouth as you stood up, soaking wet, shivering from the cold, and with an armored catfish in your hands.
''A-ha!'' You exclaimed. ''Cascudo! Now we have enough fish!''
Johnny looked dumbfounded, Gyro stood there, hesitant and disbelieving, watching you come out of the pond and drop the fish on the ground in front of them. Your mouth opened and closed, like a fish. The weight of the wet fabric clung to your body, and Johnny had fooled himself into thinking that there was no way your clothes could be more inappropriate - until he saw you completely soaked, squeezing the excess water out of your hair.
You were too exhausted to care about any sort of decorum.
''What are you idiots looking at? Come on, we've already wasted too much time with these fish!''
You looked so ridiculous that Gyro struggled not laughing.
As agreed, Gyro had to show off his Italian cooking skills by preparing two catfish. After all, the idea of fishing was his. But did you know that Gyro wouldn't even bother to remove the spines. Johnny sat next to you and watched you dry your hands on the grass, hoping to get rid of the fish smell.
The cold didn't bother you anymore, but you accepted a towel Johnny had kindly offered to dry off. You talked for a while as you watched Gyro grill the two skewered fish over the fire. Gyro was on his feet, and the sight of the man in front of you was very different from what you had seen in the newspapers. There was more detail, he looked taller, of course, and beautifully toned. The long bones of his body were covered with smooth, supple muscles, strong but elegant.
But what undoubtedly struck you most about this eccentric Italian, besides his exaggeratedly long hair, was his holster. His two steel balls swung in it as Gyro moved to pick up more sticks and throw them into the fire.
Johnny was a little different. You watched him while talking to the man. He's changed a lot since you first saw him, in the wheelchair. His skin still bore traces of the subtle dryness he had acquired in the Arizona desert. What used to look pale and delicate had turned light gold. Acquiring a tan on his face and neck and faded to pure white all over his body, with blue veins running through it at the temples. His eyes met yours and his mouth suddenly contorted.
''Gyro.'' You heard Johnny say and then looked back at the Italian. ''Why did you want to eat fish so badly?''
Gyro took a few seconds to answer, knelt and turned the fish on its stem.
''Fish, bread and wine.'' You hear him mumble. ''It was what I ate every morning in my homeland.''
''Wine for breakfast?'' Asked Johnny. ''It doesn't look very good.''
''That's because you've never tried Italian wine, Johnny.'' Retorted Gyro, looking offended at his friend's words. ''It's something you can drink every day!''
''I already had Italian wine.'' You said teasingly. ''Chilean wine would taste better to you, Johnny.''
''Whatever.'' Gyro interrupted you. ''These fish are nothing compared to acciughe, but they'll be a great source of energy.''
''Don't you think these fish need seasoning?'' You interjected, knowing full well your intentions. ''That's what's not missing in my wagon. I've some garlic, ah... orégano and parsley that would be good.''
Gyro looked at you thoughtfully and slightly satisfied for a few seconds.
''Not a bad idea, (Y/N).'' He said. ''Can I take a look?''
''Of course.'' You smiled. ''Mettiti comodo, caro!''
Gyro's hair shook slightly in blond strands. He stood up and looked at you with a smile as golden as his hair and as pretentious as himself. You stood up to guide him past the cluttered shelves and drawers of your wagon and prevent him from breaking anything. You wrapped Johnny's towel around your shoulders, your hair still dripping down your face.
''You know, Miss (Y/N)...'' Said Gyro, and you had a strange feeling when you heard him call you the same as Diego, but you relaxed a little, expecting a casual comment from the man. ''In Italy, we only call spouses caro, mia cara.''
He had spoken so soft that Johnny couldn't hear him, and got into your wagon without any ceremony. You blushed but tried to hide it. Sometimes you're warmer than people from the north are used to.
''Well...'' You tried to explain yourself. ''In the south, we have the habit of calling strangers dear too. Mi querido, meu amor, mi bien, chéri.''
Gyro let out a short laugh. You watch him inside the wagon, his body bent to keep his head from hitting the roof as if he were a giant entering a goblin's house. The sight made you smile, then you cross your arms.
''Do you have thyme?'' he asked.
''Yes, but I haven't finished drying it yet. It's under the counter.''
The man bent down, almost kneeling, to look for the herb, but you were surprised when you heard him let out a startled grunt and shake the whole wagon, falling in fright. You ran to see what was causing all the fuss and saw a bunch of cat hair flying around.
''Oddio!'' You saw Gyro lose his balance and knock something out of the wagon. ''Get your ass off those herbs!''
The cat's big eyes widened as Gyro pushed it away and it jumped onto the counter, curving and bristling its tail. You notice the cat spit out a pair of yellow wings and climb out of the wagon when it smelled fish, looking for more treats. You can't help but laugh at the situation.
''Everything okay there, Gyro?'' Johnny asked as he heard the mess and was startled by the figure of the cat, trying to pull it away from the fish.
''Goddamnit, (Y/N)!'' Gyro shouted. ''Why didn't you tell me there was a beast in that wagon?!''
''Sorry!'' You laughed. ''I forgot about him.''
You walked over to Johnny and quickly grabbed the cat before chaos ensued and you pulled it away from the grilled fish with an indignant and surprised protest. In those days of travel, you were sure the cat was completely docile because he was just a kitten full of energy. But near catnip, safely tucked away in a drawer, it was dangerous.
''That day in the village, when I came back to the house, I was attacked by one of the little dinosaurs.'' You explained, putting the cat back in the wagon and giving Johnny a look. ''I didn't kill him, so I put him in a box. The next day, when the doctor died, I found out it was just a kitten.''
''So you decided to keep it?'' Johnny asked, watching as Gyro got up and climbed out of the wagon with a handful of thyme and parsley.
''Actually, he decided to stay with me. One of the shelves is now his own, and I found out he loves hair.''
Gyro mumbled something unintelligible in Italian and went back to the fire to season the fish. You petted the cat and then sat down in front of the fire. Gyro was focused, like a chef preparing a wonderful buffet. You watched him cut into the leathery flesh of the fish and add, respectively, Jamaican pepper, parsley, thyme, and turmeric. Gyro certainly didn't know what half of these ingredients were, he simply judged them appropriate by aroma, and you didn't question the fine taste of someone who drank Italian wine for breakfast.
Suddenly you remembered something you should have said to Johnny before you even handed him the fishing rod.
''Johnny!'' You called, startling him slightly. ''When you caught the fish, did you feel something cut you?''
''I don't think so.'' He replied in astonishment. ''Why?''
''I forgot to tell you.'' You gave the Italian a careless look. ''Gyro, be careful with the stings. Cascudos have venom.''
''Do you think I'm an idiot? That was the first thing I took from them.'' He said smugly. ''Nyo-ho! If it was up to you to cook this fish, we'd be dead!''
''Gyro is right, (Y/N).'' You saw Johnny smile. ''Well, you could have warned us before, couldn't?''
You grimaced, let out an indignant sound, and frowned. You got all wet to get that damn fish, you offered spices, and now they're making fun of you? You couldn't let that go, so you prepared to retort.
''Hold on, (Y/N)...'' Johnny cut you off before you could even say anything, with big blue eyes wide. "Your hand is bleeding... are you sure you didn't cut yourself when you caught that fish on the rock?"
You forgot everything you were going to say and looked down at your bloody palm with the shallow cut. Now that you're aware of the existence of the wound, it begins to hurt. ''Mierda...'' You whisper, startling Gyro and Johnny even more, and tried to wipe off the blood on the grass before you're stopped.
''Let me see.'' Gyro knelt beside you and grabbed your wrist with unconscious strength. ''Damn, (Y/N), how can you be so inattentive? This fish is venomous!''
''I was impatient with traditional fishing.'' You justified yourself in a relaxed tone.
You knew that the stings of the catfish weren't dangerous. There was a slight tingling sensation, like an ant bite, but the biggest annoyance was nothing more than a cut at the base of your palm. You particularly found the concern of the two very funny, who had never fished in their lives, and you decided to wait a bit before explaining to them that the venom of this fish wasn't as dangerous as it seemed.
''Come on.'' Gyro pulled on your hand, forcing you to approach the fire. ''Is the other hand cut off too?''
''Huh?'' You checked. ''No, just this one. What are you doing?''
''I'm going to warm your hand so the blood vessels and pores will dilate.''
''Hey, Gyro, relax, I'm...''
''It's better if he takes care of the wound, (Y/N).'' Johnny interrupts. ''You'll be fine.''
Of course, you'll be fine, the venom of this fish is less dangerous than an ant bite. But how would you explain it to them now? Did Gyro even know that? Besides, you also found Gyro's technique for treating the wound strange. Normally you would treat this type of sting with a good dose of speedwells, but instead, Gyro warmed your hand and massaged it in a strange way, which somehow eased the tingling.
Well, now you had no choice but to let him play doctor.