Chapter Text
Carlos never liked the cold, never trusted it. The cold had no redeeming qualities – usually no tactical advantage, no charm, no reason to exist apart from making people miserable.
And now, standing in the parking lot of some fancy mountain hotel surrounded by the postcard perfect mountains of the Italian Dolomites, he's sure that this is basically just Antarctica with better PR. It’s a scam that he has to give the world credit for pulling off.
Who the hell gets married in the middle of December when beach ceremonies are a possibility?
…Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield. Of course.
He exhales slowly, his breath fogging thick in front of his face and he tells himself, for probably the tenth time today, to shut up and be happy for them. Jill is happy. Jill deserves this. And if she wants to say ‘I do’ while the guests are dying of hypothermia, that's her choice. He agreed to come. He even told her he's excited.
This might have been a lie. Really, who could blame him? He grew up much closer to the equator than this. He’s not built for snow.
The cold bites through his coat as he opens the trunk of his rental car. The wind hits his face, sharp and relentlessly cruel, and he swears under his breath as he grabs his luggage.
Italy, my ass.
He slams the trunk shut and heads for the lodge. The building looks cozy enough, all wood and stone. The heat hits him full force as he approaches the reception and he nearly sighs in relief, but the large windows showcasing the snow remind him that nothing is safe out here in whatever frozen circle of hell this is.
"Buongiorno and welcome." The receptionist greets him with a practiced smile that is far too cheerful for someone who works in a place this cold. Carlos forces a polite expression and he tells himself that the nice reception lady is not responsible for the weather. He does, however, continue to regard her with caution because no sane human being would ever willingly live out here.
"Morning. Carlos Oliveira. I'm here for the Redfield-Valentine wedding."
She nods and her fingers fly over the keyboard immediately. Carlos waits, shifting his weight as he scans the lobby. Fireplace, plush couches, amber lights. Tap, tap, tap of the keys.
He notices how the receptionist slows. Then stops. Her brow furrows and Carlos closes his eyes, trying to brace himself for whatever she will hit him with.
Wrong hotel? Did they call off the wedding and forgot to tell him?
"You seem to be a bit early."
"Early?" He repeats, blinking at her.
She turns the screen slightly so he can see the reservation Jill made for him back when he agreed to fly halfway across the globe to see her get married to a man that hates him.
"We didn't expect you until the day after tomorrow, Sir."
He sighs. Great. "Of course you weren't."
For a brief moment, his brain is providing him with a montage of the next two days. Him sleeping in that tiny rental car, wrapped in every piece of clothing that he brought. Slowly turning into an ice sculpture in the parking lot only to be discovered days later by some confused tourists.
"If you'd like, I can see if I have another room available for you, but it might take a moment."
"Sure." He says. "Great. Thank you. That would be great. I don’t have anywhere else to stay. I’m from, uh…far way."
She hesitates for a moment, then adds kindly. "You are welcome to wait in the lounge area. Feel free to have complimentary tea."
"Living the dream." He mutters, but thanks her politely and moves over to the seating area.
He drops his luggage by a chair near the fireplace and sinks into it with a sigh, stretching out his legs toward the heat.
Okay. Options.
Text Jill?
Hey, I arrived early and I might have to sleep in my car like an idiot.
What good would it do? She can't help him wherever she is right now and probably has other things to worry about. He should probably just drive back down the mountain and try to find another place to sleep and come back here in two days, pretending all of this never happened.
That's when he notices them. Five women, clustered around a low table. All of them dressed in cozy sweaters laughing over steaming mugs. One of them glances his way, then another. He can hear them whisper. A brief pause follows and then they are all pretending not to look at him.
He keeps his eyes on the fire, posture neutral, like if he doesn't acknowledge their existence, he's invisible to them.
The women giggle. Then –
"Excuse me." He sighs internally and looks up, resigned.
"Yeah?"
She smiles brightly. Pretty. White teeth, dark lipstick, bright blue eyes, her blonde hair catching the firelight. In literally any other situation, Carlos might have been the one to start a conversation with the group. Today though? He's tired, cold, mildly irritated, and not in the mood for human interaction.
"We couldn't help overhearing you at the desk." She starts.
"That's unfortunate for everyone involved." He replies and hopes, foolishly, that if he doesn't engage, they'll take the hint and leave him alone.
They do not.
"If it helps," another woman starts, "It's better to be too early than too late."
Exactly how close had they been listening?
"Uh…it helps?" It doesn't. He has no idea if it helps, but it feels rude to say it out loud.
"And there are worse places to be." A third woman chimes in and gestures vaguely at the lobby. "Believe me. This place is simply amazing."
Carlos nods. "Yeah well, if they let me in."
That earns him a sympathetic aww from the group.
"Oh, they have to." One of them says and Carlos fights the urge to ask them why. Before he can respond, one of them smiles and points at her friend across the table.
"If not, you can stay in Hazel's room. When you walked in, she said you're the most beautiful man she's ever seen."
"Oh my God!" Hazel immediately exclaims, face turning red as she swats the other woman's shoulder. "I did not say that."
She hides her face in her hands.
"Uh, thanks?" Is all he manages to say. He doesn't know if they are serious or not. Probably not, but staying with Stranger Hazel sounds marginally better than turning into a human popsicle in the parking lot, so he files the information away just in case.
The women dissolve into laughter while Carlos tries to figure out how to extract himself gracefully from this situation when the receptionist finally calls his name.
"Ladies." He says to excuse himself as he gets up to walk back over to the reception desk. He still hears the women giggle behind him.
"Don't forget Hazel!" One of them calls after him. That, somehow, actually manages to pull a smile from him. Not that they see it.
At the desk, the receptionist greets him with the same sympathetic smile as before.
"You're lucky. We have one room available." The receptionist tells him.
Relief washes over him. No sleeping in the car, no search for a cheap motel somewhere in the valley, and – thank God – no spooning with Hazel, however kind the offer may or may not have been.
"That's great." He says truthfully.
She hesitates for another second. "I should mention though, just so you're aware. This is very short notice so the rate for these two extra nights is going to be…higher than usual."
Carlos doesn't even blink. "That's fine."
"I mean." She adds "It is peak season and –"
"It's okay." He interrupts, confused by her need to explain herself. It's not like he has many options right now. "I'll take it."
He’s already reaching for his wallet. That earns him a smile from her.
"Very well, you can settle the bill at checkout."
Again, she types for a moment, then looks back up at him.
"Since you'll be staying with us a little longer now, I want to tell you about our hotel's amenities."
Carlos suppresses a sigh. He's sure they are lovely. He's also sure he can find a brochure in his room about what to do to kill time here once he’s thoroughly defrosted in his room.
"We have a full spa and wellness area with a beautiful mountain view." She continues, undeterred. "Sauna, steam room and a heated outside pool."
"Sauna." He repeats, thinking it might be the one thing to get the chill out of his bones.
"Yes, sir. It's open until ten tonight." She smiles "We also offer massages. Deep tissue, sports, relaxation. Whatever you prefer best. I can book one for you."
He considers it for half a second. Something that could undo the flight, the drive and whatever permanent damage the cold has done to him.
"...I'll think about it." He says diplomatically.
"Aqua fitness and morning yoga with the mountain view are also very popular and if you –"
"It's fine. Sauna will suffice for today. Thank you very much." He smiles and grabs the key card from the counter. He's about to cut this conversation short, but he has one thing on his mind he cannot shake.
"Can you tell me when everyone else is arriving?" He asks.
"For the wedding?"
"Yes."
She pauses as if she is checking some data protection rule, but then she starts typing.
"The bridal couple is set to arrive tomorrow morning." Carlos nods. "Most of the guests arrive the day after – that's when you were originally booked."
"And then the wedding is the day after that?"
He feels stupid even asking, but he can't explain how he messed up the dates like this.
"Indeed."
He feels so stupid. How did this even happen?
"Oh, before I forget. There's also a small Christmas market set up on the terrace outside the bar. It's open in the evenings."
"Good to know." It's a hollow phrase. He just doesn't know what else to say.
"Your room is on the third floor. Let me know if you need anything."
"Thank you."
—
The wellness area is located at the far end of the lodge, separated from the rest by a long corridor. The carpet muffles his footsteps. He’s dressed in one of the bright white hotel-issued robes he found in his room, a towel slung over his shoulder.
The air shifts as soon as Carlos steps through the large glass door. Warm, heavy humidity greets him like long lost family and he inhales the smell of the peppermint being defused through the air.
It's fucking peaceful and, more importantly, warm.
Soft music hums overhead, something instrumental with the plucking of a harp. Despite the bright winter sun outside, the lighting here is dim and amber, reflected in glossy tiles and polished stone. Everything feels hushed like the space itself asks him to be quiet and to slow down. It works.
To his left is an enormous indoor pool that stretches toward a wall of windows. Beyond the glass, the Dolomites loom in blue-white silence.
The view is obscene.
There are only a few people around at this time of the day. Carlos suspects that everyone else is probably skiing or hiking. The area feels like a secret reserved for the people who either planned this very carefully or, like him, ended up here by accident.
An older couple is floating lazy at the far end of the pool. Two women reclining on loungers, wrapped in the same hotel-issued white robes, most certainly asleep.
No noise. No chaos. Carlos feels himself relax. Maybe the universe is doing him a favor after all.
He moves through the space towards the shower, shrugs off his robe, hangs it neatly and steps under the spray. The water is hot enough to sting at first, but it helps to scrub away the remnants of travel.
Nearby, slightly tucked away from the rest of the area, the sauna section occupies its own quiet corner. The walls here are darker wood, lighting even dimmer, creating an intimate atmosphere. Three doors sit flush against the wall, equipped with narrow glass panels that reveal nothing but vague shadows inside.
Right beside them, a cold plunge pool waits – filled with round, dark tiles that make it look impossibly deep. Beyond that, another door leads straight outside. A small sign cheerfully informs guests that they are more than welcome to cool off naturally between sauna sessions. Through the glass, Carlos can see snow piled against a wooden deck and another pool.
Not happening. Not today. He’s heard people swear by temperature shock, by the benefits, the circulation and the clarity it’s supposed to bring. Some shit about resetting the system, enlightenment, inner peace or whatever they are claiming after voluntarily dunking themselves in freezing water. Good for them.
Personally, Carlos has survived enough extreme conditions to know where his line is. That line is certainly not “running naked into the snow like some mountain spirit and dying of a cold-infused heart attack in a luxury spa in northern Italy.”
He wraps his towel around his hips and steps closer to the saunas. A small sign is mounted next to every door, listing temperatures and etiquettes in three languages. Polite reminders about towels, hydration, and recommended time limits.
Three options. 60° C, labeled gentle and inviting, lower heat, high humidity. Herbs and essential oils. 80° C, dry heat. And 100° C, basically a death wish. Carlos rolls his shoulders. Middle one, probably?
He opens the heavy door and is greeted with a wall of heat. Carlos inhales and he feels it burn all the way down in his lungs. It’s a pleasant feeling, somehow.
The sauna is empty – almost, at least. One woman is stretched out along the highest bench, lying on a towel flat on her back. Her feet angled towards the window that offers an unobstructed mountain view just as the receptionist promised.
Carlos considers a short greeting, but instead he just lowers his gaze. Privacy. Don't stare, don't intrude. Just coexist politely and pretend that bodies aren't bodies.
He unwraps the towel from his waist and lays it out on the lowest bench before sitting. The wood is hot enough that it bites through the towel. He exhales slowly, releases a breath he's been holding since he arrived. He leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees. His gaze is fixed to the floorboards as his body starts to sweat. It's quiet, peaceful. The silence is only broken once in a while by the crack of heated wood.
And then, he looks again. Not voluntarily. A reflex. It just happens. Because he's a man. Because heat makes you stupid. Because the woman on the top bench is objectively beautiful. It's a quick, thoughtless glance that lasts half a second and would mean nothing.
His eyes catch on the curve of her freckled shoulder. Pale skin flushed pink from the heat. Sweat glistening on her collarbone. The line of her throat, the soft and steady rise of her chest as she breathes. Her hair is pulled back from her face, sprawled out on the towel in long waves that spiral out like a halo. It's a familiar shade of auburn that reminds him of –
No.
His brain stops working for a second. He keeps looking at her anyway, because something feels off and his eyes haven't caught up with whatever alarm starts to go off in his head.
The freckles scattered across her shoulders and her upper arms. The slope of her neck, the shape of her mouth, relaxed and slightly parted as she breathes.
Oh. Oh no.
This isn't a beautiful stranger.
This is Claire Redfield.
Bare. Naked. Radiant. She looks unreal, mystic, almost ethereal. Lying there above him like a fucking goddess. He walked in here expecting solitude and instead landed in a scenario his brain has never been allowed to finish.
His first instinct is denial. Immediate and desperate. Maybe it’s just someone who looks like her. Maybe the heat is messing with his perception.
She shifts slightly, turning her head just enough so her profile is unmistakable. The familiar line of her nose, her lashes. The tiny crease between her brows that never seems to disappear. No room for doubt.
Carlos’s stomach drops. A mix of absolute awe and outright panic engulfs him. He should leave. Immediately. Quietly. Pretend this never happened. Just get the fuck out of here and hope he'd run into her again at dinner or something. While fully dressed, preferably.
Except, he doesn't move. Because this – this – is something that his mind has never let him have. Claire has always existed behind a mental firewall labeled one hundred percent off-limits. Jill's friend. Chris's sister. Leon's girlfriend.
And the worst part? She hasn't noticed him yet. She's still lying there, completely relaxed, while Carlos Oliveira sits on the lower bench trying to function in a room where Claire Redfield is naked and real and five fucking feet away.
Fine. He can handle this. He has seen a naked woman before. More than one, actually. He's not some creep in the sauna hoping for a fantasy to play out. He's a grown man who knows Claire, has known her for years, and he owes her at least the courtesy to make his presence known.
He folds the towel in his lap, then he clears his throat softly, the sound loud in the quietness of the room.
"Uhh…hi."
—
The heat has her floating.
She has been here a while. Ten minutes, maybe a little more. She feels boneless and at ease, but her time here is almost up. She knows it in some distant, responsible corner of her brain. For now, she has drifted in some in-between state where everything feels far away, like she has melted into the wood below.
That's why she barely registers the door opening. It's mostly the short gust of cold air that lets her know she is no longer alone here. It's fine. She could use the small private sauna back in her suite, but this one here is better. Hotter.
"Uhh…hi." A voice cuts through the haze. She exhales through her nose, irritation flickering immediately.
Some guy. Maybe he’s bold, or perhaps just stupid. Probably both. Either way, she is not interested. This area is very explicitly not a social place and she has zero patience for being chatted up while naked and minding her own business.
She doesn't respond. She just ignores it and hopes he takes the hint. The silence stretches.
Then, more clearly this time, his voice cuts through.
"Claire?"
Her eyes snap open. The sound of her name cleaves through the haze in her brain. She turns her head, just enough to look at the source of the voice.
And there he is – Carlos Oliveira. For a moment, her brain refuses to cooperate. She's certain that if she blinks enough times, he'll turn out to be someone else. Like the guy who flirted with her at the bar two nights ago. Someone who belongs here. Someone she expects.
But it is him. He's here. Sitting there like he didn't just derail her afternoon by simply existing.
"Carlos?" She says and her voice carries all the confusion she feels. She forces herself to sit up a little too quickly. The room tilts for half a second. She grabs her towel on her way up and drapes it over herself somewhat efficiently. This is casual. Totally normal. This is fine. People know each other. People run into each other at hotels. In saunas. Naked. This happens. Probably. But why does it happen to her?
"What are you doing here?" She asks, because it's the safest question she can reach for.
Carlos blinks once, like he's also still recalibrating. Then gives a faint smile.
"Uh, your brother's wedding?"
Right. Yes. That.
That's why she is here too. She almost forgot for a second. Five days of yoga, sauna, meditation, and blissful isolation will do that to you. She knows Carlos is on the guest list, but why is he here now?
Some of the initial shock wears off and some logic comes back.
"That's not until Sunday."
"I know." He laughs a little. "I mixed up the dates, okay?"
Yeah, okay. That does it. It actually makes her laugh, because it is such a Carlos thing to do.
"I just remembered, I have to reschedule my flights too." He buries his face in his hands for a moment.
"That's just stressful." She comments.
"Story of my life." He shrugs. Then he looks back at her. His eyes are warm and curious.
"What about you? Why are you here already?"
It's a fair question. She can't tell him she came here to disappear; to stop being perceived by anyone for a few blessed days.
"Maid of Honor duties." She says instead. "I wanted to get here early. Take some pressure off."
"Prepared and responsible." He nods. "That tracks."
"I have Jill's dress with me and all." She adds, because it makes it sound more legitimate. She has a very important reason to be here. The dress is so, so important.
"Guess she chose the best person for the job."
Her mouth curves into a smile before she can stop it. This is how it has always been with him – easy, affirming, like he says things he believes without making a big deal out of them.
"...or not." He adds, glancing around the sauna. "Given that you're currently hiding in here instead of, I don’t know, writing a speech."
"You're such a dick." She says, rolling her eyes. "Also, I finished my speech last week, if you must know."
"Can't wait to hear it."
Despite the lightness of the conversation, she's still very aware of the things she is trying very hard not to be aware of. Like the fact that he's still very much naked and she's trying not to look. But, you know, it's also rude not to look at someone when talking to them and Carlos is so easy to look at. Especially when he is naked and smiling and sweating.
It’s not her fault. It’s manners. Good manners.
The heat shifts a little. It's subtle and she's uncertain if Carlos is actually responsible. She moves her shoulders, adjusts the towel. Her movement makes the room start to turn a little, like a photo mounted crooked on the wall. She blinks, breathes. She knows her time was up even before Carlos entered and now she's feeling it.
Carlos is saying something and she is nodding along.
"Okay." She finally says, interrupting him, lifting her hand. "I don't want to be rude–"
His attention snaps to her immediately.
"–but I really need to get out of here."
The look on his face is suddenly so concerned that Claire actually might faint on the spot.
"Are you okay?"
She closes her eyes and exhales.
"Yeah, just time to go, I think. I’ve been here. For…a while." Then she clumsily tries to climb down from the top bench.
Carlos stands almost immediately, instinctively and quick.
"Hey." He says gently in a low voice. "Take it slow, okay?" He offers her his hand and she doesn't hesitate to take it. His palm is warm and grounding and solid. She lets him steady her while she climbs down.
"I am." She promises softly.
Finally with solid ground beneath her feet, she pushes herself upright next to him and for a second, she's aware how close they are. How easy it would be to lean into him now. She doesn't, but the thought lingers as she lets go of his hand. Something as sturdy as him would surely keep the room from spinning.
"See?" She says, forcing a smile as she takes a careful step towards the door. "Still standing."
He huffs a small, relieved laugh, but his eyes don't leave her. "Good, let's keep it that way." The tone in his voice makes her shiver despite the heat.
She opens the door, cool air spilling in and she inhales deeply. The relief is immediate. She pauses for half a second, then she looks back at him and goddamn, what a sight. The image of sweat dripping down his golden olive skin will live rent-free in her head for the next month at least.
"I'll see you around?" Is all she manages to say.
Carlos nods. "Yeah, just…go hydrate."
She smiles at that and finally steps out. She's aware that it's still objectively warm and humid, but the cold air outside of the sauna still hits her.
She needs to get her thoughts back in order, so the cold plunge pool is the only logical destination.
She walks over, grabbing her towel tight just to have something to hold on to.
"I hate you." She mutters under her breath, not entirely sure if she means the stupid pool, the entire situation, or Carlos Oliveira for having the audacity to exist like that. She slips her towel off and drops it onto the bench right next to the small circular pool.
No overthinking. She steps in and the cold hits her like a fucking punch.
"Oh fuck." The world snaps back into focus as water wraps around her legs, her hips, her shoulders.
Her heart slams hard against her ribs, but it's clean now. Clear. Awake. Sharp instead of hazy. She cannot get the image of him out of her mind, and she isn't sure that she actually wants to. She is going to hydrate, yes, but she first needs to make sure that she’s not just “seeing him around.” She needs to confirm that they’ll actually spend time together.
She doesn't want fate or coincidence to decide if and when they will run into each other again. The past few days were peaceful solitude, but now she wants to spend the rest of the day with him. She wants to feel this pull again and see if it's real when heat and steam and naked, flushed skin aren't doing half the work.
And, to be brutally honest, she wants him to look at her again.
The cold becomes unbearable fast. She grabs her towel and wraps it around herself and immediately stalks back to the sauna. Decision made. She knows he's still alone in there.
She opens the door just enough to slip her head and shoulder inside. The heat greets her immediately, but it's manageable now.
Carlos looks up at once. He's sitting where she left him, skin damp with sweat, forearms resting on his knees. The sight of him hits her again low and sharp.
"Hey." She says softly.
His expression shifts a little, concern flickering in his eyes.
"You good?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She nods. "I just–" She closes her eyes and shakes her head. She feels ridiculous. She pauses just a beat longer than she actually means to.
"Do you have plans later?" She finally asks.
His smile comes instantly. Soft, bright and honest. The kind of smile that makes it obvious how hard he's trying not to grin like an idiot.
"Wanna check out the Christmas market?" He offers and something warm and bright settles in her chest.
"I'd love to." She replies truthfully. "See you at five in the lobby?"
"I'll be there." Her heart does that stupid thing again at how fast he replies.
"You better." She smiles at him one last time before she closes the door, before she can say anything else, and before she can overthink it.