#u come stand in the doorway of my room shaking like a chihuahua | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

viridwns · 3 years

Text

Can't help but fall in love with you.

Time: present

Paring: Chuuya x f!reader

Characters: Chuuya nakahara, Dazai osamu, Mori ōgai, Fukuzawa yukichi from BSD

Warnings: none ig.

Request from: @trixiegalaxy . I hope you are happy with this!

You were just looking for a job. A simple job.

You really went from being a secretary with mountains of paperwork your boss left you to being in the middle of a truce meeting.

"No illusions this time fukuzawa?"

"It's a truce meeting right? I don't see the use of using my members ability."

You really didn't want to be here. What were you even thinking! The job that you were offered after just moving into this city was to perfect to be true. You knew something was up, but you still accepted it anyway.

When you were asked to come to an important meeting by Dazai, you didn't think any of it. I mean maybe you had to take notes or something. So ofcourse being the good subordinate you were, you said yes.

Curse this handsome looking man. If only you had listened to your guts when he asked you to join him for a double suicide.

You tugged at Dazai's arm wanting to know why in the hell he brought you here. "What the actual fuck Dazai" you whispered at him a frown setteling upon your face. He looked at you with a grin and winked. Wanting nothing more to bash his head in a voice interrupted your thoughts.

"I can see you brought someone new. I've never seen her face here before."

You looked at the mafia boss. He was smiling at you.

Gulping down the lump in your throat you tried to look as brave as possible. Standing up straight with your chin up.

"She's our new secretary. Thought i'd bring her with us for some experience." You heard Dazai say.

Only Dazai, fukuzawa and you were here. On the other side you could see the mafia boss, a man with no eyebrows? And a short, but intimidating man with a fedora.

Yeah you didn't want to get caught up into this.

"I'm gonna quit the next opportunity i get" you muttered. Regretting not listening to your mother to stay in the little village and not moving to the city.

"Knowing you Dazai, she isn't just a secretary. Just tell us what her ability is."

Wait what?

"Hah?" You said without realizing.

First of all how did Dazai know about your ability. Second of all how could it be of any use here?

"Ah you caught me. She indeed has an ability. Up to you to figure it out."

Dazai said, his famous grin plastered on his face.

"Cut the crap mackerel. This is a truce meeting. Stop this shitty act and just tell us why she's here." The man with the fedora stept forward. His gloved hand pointing at you.

Honestly you don't even know anymore why you were here.

"Can we just set our agreement. My schedule is busy and the only way we can stop (bad guy name) is if we work together."

Your boss spoke up. Looking tired as usual.

"Sorry, but it seems like your hiding something from us. Are you going to attack us when we turn around hm?"

The mafia boss looked at him with an amusing smile.

"Stop this nonsense Mori. Just agree to the plan. You know it's the best thing to do."

"Fine. Tomorrow at midnight i'll send Chuuya and you'll send Dazai. Deal?"

"Deal."

----

Why the fuck.

wHY THE FUCKING FUCK WERE YOU HERE.

That chuuya guy and Dazai were supposed to be going on a mission together.

so why in the hell were you here waiting infront of a shed at 12 AM with Dazai at your side.

Simple answer: you fell for his tricks again.

"Isn't the sky pretty y/n."

"Say one more word and i'll make you regret using me for my ability."

An angry scowl was placed on your features as Dazai pouted.

"Ah come one y/n-kun don't be so mean."

You snapped your head to the right to face him.

"Oh i'm mean? You literally send me here to join you for a suicide mission. I'm only going to be dead weight anyway!"

He chuckled

"Oh don't worry, you're going to be a great help for this mission."

Giving him a confused look, you were about to say something when a voice interrupted you.

"And can i ask why she is here?"

You looked to the left to see Chuuya standing there with a hand on his hip.

"Why is everyone so irritated this night. Well i wouldn't expect less from Chuuya, but you are never irritated y/n."

"For everything there's a first time." You said with a sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

"Just shut up you mackerel. I'm not in the mood for your shit."

Chuuya walked closer to the two of you. He was intimidating as ever, but gosh did he have anger issues.

Dazai tried to open his mouth, but knowing him and his passion for annoying people you interrupted him.

"If we go left from here, we'll eventually see the base of the enemy. There's a way in from the left side of the building without being seen. It's our best shot to sneak in."

You finished looking at the two men.

You could see Chuuya staring at you with a certain look in his eyes.

"Is there something on my face?" You asked, your hands wiping your face.

It looked like you suprised him by the sudden startled look on his face.

"N-no Let's just go. The sooner we start, the faster we finish."

Chuuya walked past the two of you. Cursing something under his breath. You could swear you saw a light pink covering his cheeks.

----

"Where the fuck did that maniac go?!"

You sat on the ground covering your ears with your hands. Not wanting to listen to Chuuya's whines anymore.

It all happenend so fast. The three of you broke into the enemy's base and found a good hiding spot, but somehow the three of you got caught. Chuuya and you ran, thinking Dazai was right behind you two, but when you locked yourselves into a lab, he was gone.

Looking at the furious ginger you tried to calm him down.

"It's Dazai we're talking about. C'mon have some faith in your partner."

You smiled lightly, but it soon faded as you were met with an angry scowl.

"He was my partner. I can't even believe he brought you."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

You didn't know either why he brought you, but he could be atleast a bit nicer about it.

"Well i'm sorry for being here, but thanks to me we could break into this place. Also can you just calm your tits. Your behavior isn't helping the situation."

You stood up to look him in his eyes. Your smile being replaced with a more serious look.

"I-." He tried to say something, but instead moved to the other side of the room.

"You're such a nausionce."

Knowing if you would pick a fight with him now nothing good would come out of it.

"I know, now let's find a way out."

Looking around the room, you could only find some medical suplies and some samples of God knows what.

Chuuya began helping you after sulking for a bit in the corner. He checked all the cabinets and only found food and more medical supplies.

"I found nothing, you?"

You asked the man while sitting down on the large dental like chair in the middle of the room.

"Nothing useful no."

Chuuya leaned at the wall infront of you.

"Going outside is also not an option. There are cameras outside the door. So they'll know our location immediately."

You let out a frustrated sigh. Massaging your temples.

"God i'm so stupid. I should've paid more attention to our location."

The man infront of you scoffed.

"Not going to disagree with you on the first thing, but you couldn't have known where we were and we were all in a state of panic. It makes you forget things."

Being a little shocked that he also could be nice, i mean he did call you stupid indirectly, but the words he said did make you feel better.

"Thanks Chuuya. That means allot to me." You said to him smiling.

"Yeah yeah whatever." The pink hue could be seen again on his cheeks as he looked away.

Giggling softly at his flustered state.

"What are you laughing at brat?!"

Ah there was the angry chihuahua again.

"Nothing, just you."

"You bi-."

Chuuya was cut off by voices on the other side of the door. You jumped of your chair looking at Chuuya with a panicked expression.

He motioned to the closet and you nodded your head. Quickly moving over to the closet, you and Chuuya squeezed yourselves in.

The space was cramped, but it was the only solution for now. Knowing that Chuuya's ability would make to much of a commotion.

Feeling Chuuya's warm breath on your lips, you now noticed how short he actually was. His head not coming above your nose. It was adorable really.

He also smelled like wine, but it wasn't smelly or something. It was quite a pleasant smell and not to mention very attractive.

Blushing at your thoughts you looked up.

'Omg why am i thinking this now. He's so attractive- NO Y/N FOCUSE.' you internally screamed.

"This door is locked kiri, maybe the intruders are in here."

A soft rattling noise was heard and the door knob moved a little.

"Damn i don't got the keys. Let me go get them."

You heart footsteps leave the door, but you knew someone else was waiting infront of it.

Suddenly you could feel a light bulb just pop above your head. You had a plan, but you didn't know if it would work.

"Shit what do we do." You could hear Chuuya mutter.

"I might have an idea." You whispered.

----

"Are you crazy?! You can't just do that y/n!" Chuuya whisper yelled.

You were putting on one of the labcoats hanging in the closet. Your other clothes were in Chuuya's hands.

You were wearing your hair loose with a skintight labcoat flaunting every curve of your body.

"It's the only plan right now. And with my ability it is almost guaranteed it will work." You whispered back. You hated this plan as much as he did, but it was your only chance. And you felt sexy as fuck right now.

"I got them!." You heard a man's voice say. Footsteps getting closer. "Took you long enough, now open the door."

"Jeez okay fine."

"There is no time Chuuya." You said closing the closet doors. You could see Chuuya trying to protest, but he gave up.

Scurrying over to one of the counters pretending you were organizing something the door opened.

You heart starting to beat faster and your hands shaking. 'Calm down y/n. You got this you sexy motherfucker'. Your breathing slowed a little and a voice was heard from the doorway.

"Hey you! Put your hands up!"

You looked up to see two men in trenchcoats with guns pointing at you.

"What's this commotion all about gentleman? I'm just trying to do my job here."

You raised your hands and slowly walked over to the men.

"Stay still! Tell me your name."

Stopping your movements you bit your lip.

"My name is..." should you tell them you're real name? Or just make one up.

"Go on woman, we don't have all night."

Slightly annoyed by his tone, you decided to use your own name.

"L/n, y/n l/n." You said

"Never heard of you. Have you?" The man turned to his colleague.

"No, take her in custody."

Panicking internally, you needed to come up with a lie right now! Your ability won't work unless the men touch you.

"I uhmm. I was waiting for one of the men. He hired me for some private time. If you know what i mean." You winked at the two men. Hoping they would buy your lie.

You could see them blushing slightly.

"Who hired you?"

"Dunno. We do these things anonymous."

You walked over to the chair and slowly crawled on it. Trying to nonegelantly show your ass.

"Hey i said don't move!"

The second man said. Coming closer to you.

"Okay, okay calm down." You sat down and put your hands infront of you.

"I'm just here, because he still got 30 minutes left. Rules from my boss. Can't go away till the time is up." You shrugged and flipped your hair. Leaning on your knee with the other hand.

You really had to stop yourself from cringing.

"Well i got to ask you to leave ma'am." The first guys said, putting his gun down and walking over to you.

"Fine, but if you get a call from my boss, don't blame me."

"Ofcourse. You are just doing you're job." The second guy said with a blush on his face.

'Ugh men.'

"You have to lead me the way tho. The other guy insisted on blind folding me." You seductively bite your lip and winked again.

"Of- ofcourse come with us please."

The second guy cleared his throat and offered his hand. Smiling you took his hand and hopped of the chair.

'Now the other guy.'

'Accidentally' stumbling you fell into the first dudes arms, causing him to catch you.

"Oh shit. Clumsy me. Can't even walk properly."

You gave out a short laugh and the guy brushed his jacket.

"It's okay. Now come o-."

Not being able to finish his sentence, he fell to the ground. His partner following him.

"Yeah that's right you two go to sleep. I'll find my way out from here."

Chuckling at your own humor you snatched their guns.

"Wait how-."

Chuuya stepped out of the closet a blush on his cheeks and a confused expression.

Standing up straight you walked over to him and picked up your clothes from his hands.

"It's my ability 'sweet dreams'. If i touch the person and whisper 'sweet dreams' in the next 5 minutes. The person or persons will fall into a coma. They'll wake up when i fall asleep or when i forget i put them to sleep. So i have to keep thinking about them."

You finished off with a smile. Putting your own shirt on again.

"I can see now why Dazai brought you." He said with a slight smirk on his face.

"It isn't all that fancy and i never really used it before."

"Why come you never joined the port mafia or hell even the ADA."

You sighed a little.

"Well it could be a useful ability, but i don't want to be a hero or villian or other shit. I'm happy as i am now."

Chuuya looks at you with a soft expression.

"That's a shame. Would've loved to see you in action more. Or hell even fight against you."

He looked away from you. His hand behind his head. You laughed a little.

"I would absolutely demolish your ass." You said, crossing your arms with a triumph look on your face.

"Hah you wish princess. You won't be able to even come near me!"

You blushed at the sudden nickname. Your hands falling to your side.

"W-we'll see." You cursed yourself for stuttering.

He walked passed you to the door. Whispering something in you ear.

"I wouldn't mind seeing you try to seduce me like the two men you seduced just now."

Your ears felt hot and you were sure you looked like a tomato right now. Chuuya walked out the door and you just stood there. Coming out of your shocked state you ran out the door to slap him. "Come here you asshole." You whisper yelled. Chuuya almost dying from laughter shushed you. "We don't want the enemy to find us now. Do we. Otherwise you have to put on that outfit again."

Smacking him on the back of his head. You couldn't wait to get this mission done.

----

"Ah what a night. Good thing you guys saved me back there. They were cruel!"

The brunette man was stretching his limbs.

It was 5 in the morning and Chuuya and you were finally able to take the boss out (well Chuuya did that part while you freed Dazai.)

"Oh shut up you damn piece of shit. Thanks to you it took us the whole night to finish this job and most of all you brought y/n in unnecessary danger."

"Hey it's okay. I'm fine. Luckily we all are. Let's just head home go to sleep and go back to enemies in the morning." You quickly said walking inbetween the two men.

Dazai yawned.

"Sounds like a great plan y/n! Altough i thought you were gonna quit the job."

You put your hands around Dazais arm.

"Nah can't do that after such an adventure now can i?"

You and Dazai chuckled while Chuuya just sighed.

"Get a room jeez." He said annoyed.

"Ah c'mon Chuuya. We make a great team! I can't wait for the next truce." You said rather excited for this hour.

Coming at the end of the forest you knew you had to say your goodbye's to the men.

"Well y/n i wish you a pleasant night and i'll see you at work again. Chuuya i hope you get hit by a car."

Dazai smiled and turned around to walk away.

You laughed and waved him goodbye.

"That fucker." Chuuya muttered holding up his middle finger.

"Ah come on Chuuya. He may not show it, but i know he sees you as a friend."

"Pff sure in your dreams."

Sighing you face palmed yourself.

"Well i guess this is it then. Goodnight Chuuya."

You knew it was wrong. He was your enemy and you had to put your feelings aside, but you couldn't stop yourself. You never had so much fun in your whole life and to be frank, you didn't want the night to end here yet.

You kissed him on the cheek and turned around.

"Thank you for this wonderful, but crazy ass night." You gave a sad smile. Although he couldn't see it.

Suddenly you felt someone grab you wrist. Spinning you around. You were met with a flustered Chuuya his eyes fixated on the ground.

Standing there in an awkward silence for a few seconds, he finally spoke up.

"Look. I worked with many people before, but i never had so much fun with someone. And-" he became quiet for a bit. Taking a deep breath he continued: " and i never felt like this before. You give me this warm feeling and i hate it, but i can't get enought of it. When i first saw you at the meeting i just knew you were different. So please let's not end this night just yet."

He tilted his head to look at you a serious expression on his face.

"Chuuya-."

Your voice was cut of when a pair of warm lips crashed your own. They were rough, but soft at the same time. Being a little stunned you forgot to kiss back. Chuuya pulled away again taking a step back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what came over me."

This time you shushed him and kissed him back. His arms finding a way on your hips and your arms grabbing his hair to deepen the kiss.

After a few seconds you both pulled away, out of breath. Your fourheads touching eachother and your noses brushing eachother.

"That was- wow."

You said with a small smile.

Chuuya chuckled lightly.

"I won't go easy on you now if we meet again y/n."

"Oh i'm counting on it."

You grinned. Wanting to make this night last longer. He pulled you in for a kiss again and you let him. Nothing making you happier as you are right now.

Little did you two forbidden lovers know that a brunette man was staring contently as his assumptions were right.

----

Sorry it took so long :,)

#chuuya x y/n #x y/n #bsd headcanons #bsd x reader #y/n #bsd chuuya #chuuya headcanons #chuuya fluff #chuuya nakahara x you #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #anime x reader #anime #chuuya x reader #×fics

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pengychan · 5 years

Text

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 10

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

To see the version with art by Dara, check it out on Ao3.

Tag for all parts up so far.

A/N: No smut in this chapter either because Some Shit Needed Sorting Out (and also Ernesto was definitely not in the right state of mind). Will make up for that in the next one, I promise!

***

The next morning, after they wake up on the couch - with an aching back, because sleeping huddled together on the couch does no favors to one’s spinal column - Ernesto claims he’s perfectly fine, which is an obvious lie.

Imelda only has to stare for three seconds and a half before he recants and says that he feels better, which seems closer to the truth. He’s functional, if nothing else, enough to take his yapping dogs down for a walk before returning, gaze still downcast. By the time he does, she’s made some breakfast for everyone.

“You're going to rub this in my face at every turn, aren't you.”

The accusation comes as soon as they're alone in the kitchen, with Héctor off to have his morning shower. Imelda pauses while pouring a cup of coffee, and realizes that part of her has been expecting to hear that.

Ernesto has a special knack for being constantly wrong.

“No,” she says quietly, and finishes pouring the coffee. She turns to put it down on the table in front of Ernesto. He’s sitting with an uncharacteristic hunch, gaze fixed on his hands on the table; he brushed his hair, but it’s not as nearly done as it usually is. He doesn't even glance at her, or the cup. “I am not.”

He scoffs, but it lacks the usual bite. He speaks flatly, gaze distant. “As if. The moment you decide to put me in my place, and you need something to hold against me, you will bring this u-"

“I won't. This was my fault.”

The reply causes Ernesto to finally look up at her, blinking, clearly taken aback. “What…?”

Imelda sighs, and pours a cup for herself as well before sitting. She places her hands around the cup, its warmth comforting against her palms. Across the table, Ernesto is doing the same.

“I owe you an apology,” she finally says. “I was the one with the rod. I should have handled it better instead of just assuming immediate aftercare was all you'd need,” she adds, and looks straight at Ernesto. He’s staring at her as though she’s grown antlers. “I knew Héctor and I would be going to Santa Cecilia the next day. We shouldn't have left you on your own. I… misjudged the situation.”

For a moment, Ernesto says nothing - then a bitter expression crosses his features. “You thought I could handle it and I should have. I should have dealt with it. I should--"

“Ernesto,” she cuts him off, and reaches to put a hand on his arm without thinking. “Listen. That's where you’re wrong, that's where we both were wrong. Anyone can experience a drop. Anyone. It doesn't matter how manly you think you are. And I should have known better,” she added, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

Ernesto stares at her hand on top of his own for several moments before he sniffles and abruptly reaches up to wipe this eyes with the heel of his other hand. “I hate it,” he chokes out. “I'm not supposed to be like… like this.”

“It's physiological. It’s not a personal failing.”

There is another sniffle, then Ernesto looks back at her. His mouth is pulled in a tight line, but he’s already losing his battle for control. He’s more vulnerable than Imelda has ever seen him, it is because of her, and she gets absolutely no satisfaction from it; only a sense of shame because this could have been avoided, or softened, if only she hadn’t gone on assumptions.

This is not how she’d wanted to break him.

“You won’t tell anyone,” he chokes out, and Imelda shakes her head.

“No, no one.”

“You won’t bring this up again.”

She squeezes his hand. “Only if you decide to.”

Ernesto nods and, very slowly, he pulls his hand away from her grip. He rests both elbows on the table, burrows his face in his hands, and bursts in tears. The keening sound she heard before, the one he made while trying to hold back, is gone. Everything that comes with a bad drop - the hurt, the fear, the guilt and shame and the crushing sense of worthlessness - leaves him in broken, harsh sobs that shake his entire frame. Something drips down his face, into the cooling cup of coffee. His dogs, who were sitting under his chair, suddenly stand on their hind legs, whining, pawing at his shins to get his attention… or to snap him out of it.

Imelda won’t remember standing up later, but she must have, because the next moment she’s standing by his chair, and reaching to touch his head. Ernesto turns blindly and then he’s pressing his face against the apron, shaking, arms reaching around her waist to hold onto her.

She tries to think of something to say, but her mind draws a blank, and she just combs her fingers through his hair. In the end, she doesn’t need to speak: the next moment Héctor is in the kitchen, too, fresh out of the shower, one hand on Ernesto’s shuddering back and murmuring that it’s all right, he’s all right, let it all out, amigo.

He does let it all out, or at least a good chunk of it, and in the end his sobs subside and turn into whimpers first, then shuddering breaths. By the time he falls quiet and pulls back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and mumbling that he’s fine, he’s all right, give me a moment, the coffee is hopelessly cold and Imelda pours it down the drain. She fills a glass with water instead, and puts it on the table without a word, along with a napkin. Ernesto blows his nose and takes the glass, just as silently, to drink in slow gulps.

“Gracias,” he rasps, putting it down, and Imelda nods.

“Don’t mention it,” she says, only realizing now that Héctor is nowhere to be seen. “Where…?”

A strumming noise causes her to pause and there he is, in the doorway, guitar in hand. He grins at them both, that boyish grin of his, like nothing at all is wrong. “I thought I’d heard a trumpet,” he says lightly, causing Ernesto to roll his eyes - a small, familiar gesture, and Héctor’s grin widens. “I missed my guitar during the visit. How about a quick show for my favorite public?”

Maybe that’s something else they all need now, a bit of normalcy, and Ernesto nods immediately. Soon enough they’re on the couch, leaning against each other, watching Héctor play a soft tune, and another… and then that odd song he wrote to humor old Chicharrón, one day he’d accidentally locked himself out while Imelda was away and Ernesto wasn’t home.

The old grump had let him wait for either to return in his living room, which was more thoughtful than she’d thought him capable of. Imelda had invited him for dinner to return the favor, and while he had no accepted - he wanted to be on his own, apparently - from that day on he’d occasionally stop to talk with Héctor about music, and she was the only other person in the entire building he never failed to greet upon meeting. A real greeting, not a grunt.

Ernesto isn’t especially fond on the ending of that one - his deep and meaningful comment when he first heard it was something along the lines of ‘who’d want to fuck an ugly woman’, which almost resulted in impromptu castration and was never repeated in her presence again - but this time, he says nothing… and halfway through the song, he even hums along.

It’s progress and, really, his voice is nice to listen to when he’s not raising it to sing over hers.

***

“You lied about having done it before, didn’t you?”

Imelda’s question is spoken quietly, but it may very well be a gunshot: it causes Héctor to go very still, and Ernesto to recoil. When Héctor looks at his best friend, he sees him immediately looking down, shoulders tense - a reaction more telling than anything he may say.

And, to Héctor’s immense shame, it comes as no surprise at all.

Of course he lied, he just wouldn’t have admitted having no experience in something while we did. He’s always been like this, I should have known, should have guessed. I should have asked. Should have questioned.

But they hadn’t, not him and not Imelda - who, he can tell now, is thinking exactly the same thing: they should have known. It isn’t often he sees guilt on her face; he does now, and it is gutting.

Ernesto, however, doesn’t see it. His gaze is fixed on the snoozing chihuahua on his knees, snuggled up against the palm of his hand. He’s been getting… better throughout the day, but he has yet to return to his usual self. Right now, he makes Héctor think of an animal who just realized it set foot in a trap that will spring at the first movement.

“I…” he starts, and falls quiet. Normally, he would deny; now he doesn’t even try. Héctor wants to hug him, wants to strangle him, wants to cry and yell until his face turns blue. It was a stupid lie, damn it, almost as stupid as him for believing it… but he holds back from doing anything, and he lets his gaze shift to Imelda. Her eyes are fixed on Ernesto, her expression unreadable and her frame rigid.

Bad time to ask that question, he thinks. Just don’t get angry. Please, please, don’t get angry.

As though she just heard his mute plea, Imelda lifts her gaze a moment to look at him. Something in her eyes softens, and she gives a very small nod before putting a hand on Ernesto’s shoulder. It makes him wince, but then his frame relaxes, just a little.

“Ernesto,” she calls out. “That wasn’t the truth, was it? You had no experience at all.”

A moment of silence, a shaky intake of breath, and he speaks without looking up. "... Lo siento," he all but whispers. That is enough to make any desire Héctor may have to yell evaporate like a drop of water under the summer sun.

"We know that, amigo," he mutters, shifting close to put a hand on his other shoulder. "It’s all right, we're not mad,” he adds. Imelda gives him a look that spells out ‘speak for yourself’, but she doesn’t argue, so he doesn’t think she’s really angry.

"Of course you are,” Ernesto mutters. His thumb is rubbing Clara’s head in gentle strokes, and he doesn’t look up. His voice is not as desperately hollow as the previous evening, but still worryingly quiet. “I brought it on myself, didn't I?"

It sounds so wrong, hearing Ernesto blaming himself. Usually he will blame everything, and everyone, before he admits to a fault; it is an aspect of him that has always been there. Héctor no longer even noticed it, until Imelda pointed it out to him.

Imelda hesitates - hard to deal with Ernesto just admitting to being in the wrong; it is oddly unsettling - before she sighs. "I don't know if this could have been handled better if you'd told me the truth," she says. "Maybe. Maybe not. We shouldn't have left you alone either way, but we did. You shouldn't have lied to us, but you did. Maybe it wasn't the right time to go this far. You need to trust me, and I-- we need to be able to trust you.”

Ernesto nods in silence; no argument, just that silent nod, gaze low. Imelda sighs again.

“... All right. We can talk about this another time. We’ll just put this thing on hold for a whi--”

“No,” Ernesto speaks suddenly, lifting his head. There is a note of desperation in his voice. “I told you, I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey, we know,” Héctor says quickly, and his hand slides to rub his upper back. “It’s just--”

“And I’m fine, you said I’ll be fine!”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. It’s best to let some time pass before we consider giving it another go, if we do at all,” Imelda says, her voice sterner. “Last thing we need is for you to have another drop because we didn’t-- what is it?” she adds, her expression turning into a confused one.

Ernesto blinks at her. “Ah. You meant-- that. I thought--” he trails off, gaze shifting between the two of them, then he clears his throat and looks down again. “Uh, nevermind.”

Héctor and Imelda share a perplexed gaze. “You thought… what?” he asks. Ernesto shakes his head, and… is it him, or his friend seems to be actually turning red? He grins, leaning in to rest his head on his knee so that that he can peer up at him, legs against the couch’s backrest. The chihuahua on his other knee licks his hair, tail wagging, before jumping off to join the others at the other end of the room. “Oh, you thought we were gonna call the whole thing off?”

“Shut up,” Ernesto grunts, looking away. Ah, now that sounds more like him. Héctor’s grin gets, if possible, even wider.

“Thought we were gonna leave you out in the cold, mi amigo?”

“Another word and I’ll break that guitar over your head.”

“Oh, now you sound a lot better,” Héctor laughs, and gets upright again before he slaps a hand on his shoulder. “See, you’re almost you again.”

Ernesto scoffs, but he says nothing to protest, though he seems supremely offended by Imelda’s snicker. He leans back on the couch with a huff, crossing his arms. “Whatever,” he grumbles, but then Héctor leans in to kiss his temple and the scowl fades a little. He glances up at them, and seems to shrink a little. “It’s just… we’re having a good time,” he mutters.

“Most of the time,” Imelda agrees, and that simple remark feels like a victory to Héctor. She seems a little unsure for a moment, eyeing Ernesto like she’s just noticed something for the first time, but then she shakes her head and stands. “I think I’ll go fix some lunch. Are you going to help, Ernesto?”

“... Huh? Why me?”

“Why not? You’re such a fine cook,” she says, and suddenly smiles, reaching to tilt up his chin. She stares at him in the eye, smirking. “Or… may it be that that delicious dinner was actually take-away from a restaurant?”

“Wha-- it was not!” Ernesto protests, his voice a little too high to convey the sense of outrage he is probably trying to show. Imelda raises an eyebrow, and Héctor can see his shoulders dropping. “... I. I had it delivered,” he mumbles.

As Héctor sticks a fist directly in his mouth not to laugh too loudly, Imelda smirks. “I knew it,” she says lightly, and lets go of his chin. Héctor laughs as she leaves.

“Something you should have learned, amigo - you don’t get to keep secrets from her forever,” he tells him, leaning back and reaching for his guitar again. He tunes it a little better, gives it a strum. “Sooner or later, she finds out.”

“Hmph,” Ernesto mutters, frowning, but he says nothing for a few more minutes.

Héctor plays a song he knows well, and normally he would sing along, but this time he does not: he seems to be mulling over something not precisely pleasant. With a sigh, he stops playing and sets the guitar aside. “A peso for your thoughts.”

Ernesto shoots a quick glance towards the kitchen before replying. “Did she meet her?”

“Huh?”

“My mother.” He spits out that word like it’s something rotten, and Héctor shifts a little. It is hard not to think of the look on her face, of the desperation in her voice when she asked for news of her only son, and it makes the contempt in his voice even harder to stomach. Still, he has his reasons and it’s not his place to question it.

“Oh. Right. Yes,she-- we were together when she approached.”

“I bet she turned on the waterworks,” Ernesto mutters, an icy edge to his voice.

A sigh. “She did weep,” he admits, trying not to let pity show in his voice.

“Heh. Go figure. Easy to think I’m the ungrateful bastard, making my poor mamá cry.”

“Imelda doesn’t think that.”

“Of course she thinks that,” Ernesto snaps, and makes a face. “That poor soul unfortunate enough to be my mother,” has parrots her. “My old man would agree, if anything.”

“She doesn't know. I never told her.”

“... I know.”

There is another brief silence, then Héctor sighs and reaches in his pocket. The envelope feels oddly heavy in his hand. “I mean, if you’re gonna throw it away, that’s… it’s up to you,” he adds, and holds it out. Ernesto stares at it for a few moments before taking it, and frowning at it. For a second he looks as though he’s about to crumple it, then he sets his jaw.

“I won’t open it,” he says, in a tone that challenges him to say otherwise. He doesn’t, and his glare fades into something so bitter before he sighs, looking away. “... How did she look?”

One word - fine - almost makes it to Héctor’s lips, but in the end he bites it back. No, she was not fine, and to say so would be a lie. He doesn’t want to guilt his best friend, but he doesn’t want to lie, either. “Older,” he finally says. Ernesto gives him a look that spells clearly ‘well, duh’, and he shrugs. “And… sad.”

“I see.” That cold voice, again, but not quite as firm as it should be. “She brought it on herself.”

“... Yes.”

“She had her chance. She blew it, and I--”

“Héctor!” Imelda’s voice comes from the kitchen, and it’s a relief, really. This is not a conversation he wants to keep up.

“Sí, mi amor?”

“Come over, my knight, I need help!”

“A jar you need to open?”

“A jar I need to reach.”

Ah, yes. He always puts things too high up when he tidies up the kitchen, and sometimes it’s a problem. Happens, when you’re ridiculously tall and the love of your life ridiculously tiny. “Help is coming!” he announces, and gives Ernesto a pat on the shoulder before he goes to help Imelda in the kitchen.

He doesn’t see his best friend looking down at the envelope in his hands, biting his lower lip before he scowls and forcefully shoves it down his pocket.

***

“When you said you were fixing lunch, I didn’t think you meant sandwiches.”

“Is that a complaint? You don’t have to eat that guajolota if it’s not good enough for you.”

“I’d be happy to eat it if you don’t want it…” Héctor mutters, and he reaches for it, only for Ernesto to scoff and slap his hand away.

“Hands off, pendejo. And that’s not what I meant! I just thought-- we could have bought this from any street vendor.”

Imelda shrugs, taking a bite of her guajolota. “I like it best homemade. It was too much of a nice day to stay cooped up in the apartment, with the park so close by,” she adds. It is a nice day, warm and sunny but not unbearably hot, with a mild breeze. Sitting in the shade on a bench, only a few steps away from a pond and with Ernesto’s dogs looking up at them with wagging tails - clearly hoping for a bite that they won’t be getting, oh no, not from her - Imelda knows coming here was a good idea.

Ernesto looks better; not yet fine, precisely, but a world away from the wreck she and Héctor found the previous evening, and some sunlight and fresh air will help. She supposes the fact he’s squabbling with Héctor over whose sandwich is bigger is a good sign, too - so she leans back, looks at the sun’s rays on the surface of the pond, and finishes her lunch.

She’s just swallowed the last bite when Ernesto calls out suddenly.

“... Imelda?”

Hearing her name coming from him feels almost as foreign as his hesitant tone. Imelda tries to think of last time he addressed her like that, by her name, and on top of her mind she can’t think of any. It happened, it must have, but it’s a ridiculously rare occurrence. With that thought in mind, she turns to glance at Ernesto. He’s sitting at the other end of the bench, Héctor between them - as always - and staring down, like he suddenly finds his own knees extremely interesting.

“Yes?”

“About, er…” he clears his throat. “About my mother.”

Oh. That.

Imelda is aware, vaguely, of how Héctor has stiffened. She puts a hand on his for just a moment, a gentle touch to reassure him. “... You don’t owe me an explanation,” she says. It is true that the sight had unsettled her, and it is true she cannot imagine cutting off one’s mother like that… she does not know the whole story. Not even half of it. She jumped to conclusions, based on assumptions.

It is a habit she thought she grew out of, but clearly she has not.

A nod, and Ernesto lets out a long breath. “No. I do not,” he agrees, and turns to look at her. He looks remarkably calm, but there is something else there just beneath the surface - something unpleasant like a headache that can be kept at bay, but never really goes away. “You don’t know what happened, right?”

Imelda shakes her head. “No. Héctor never mentioned a thing.”

“I promised not to,” her husband says, just a touch defensively.

Ernesto’s gaze shifts between them, and he finally shrugs. “I figure you’d rather know what my beef with her is, in case you run into her again. Or hell forbid, my old man,” he adds, and gives an odd laugh, like it’s the worst thing he can imagine happening to anyone. Imelda can’t say she thinks it is, but it likely wouldn’t be too pleasant either. From what she knows and has heard of Estéban de la Cruz, he is not the kind of person she would invite for dinner.

Or anywhere in the vicinity of her home, really.

“... Of course. I’m listening.”

There is a moment of hesitation before Ernesto speaks, glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. When he does, however, his voice is firm as always… and just a touch dramatic, but Imelda suppose some drama is just part of the package that is Ernesto de la Cruz.

“Well. As you might have noticed, I’m not entirely straight.”

Imelda looks at Héctor. Héctor glances at her. They both turn to stare at Ernesto, raising one eyebrow in near-perfect sync and causing him to rolls his eyes.

“At least give me a surprised gasp. Anything.”

“What an astonishing turn of events,” Imelda says flatly.

“... You’re the worst public I’ve ever had.”

“Ay, Dios mío! How could you hide this from me all along?” Héctor exclaims, putting a hand over his heart for extra drama and managing to, somehow, not burst out laughing. Ernesto’s mouth twitches in what’s almost a smile before he catches himself and clears his throat.

“That’s better. Anyway, I… I couldn’t just be too in-your-face about it. You know.”

She does know. Santa Cecilia is a small town that, sometimes, seems a world away from life as they know it now in Mexico City. For all the many good things she loves about it, open-mindedness on such matters is not something to take for granted - not in older people especially. And not, for God’s sake, from Estéban de la Cruz.

All of a sudden, even though the sun is still shining, she feels like the temperature around her has dropped by several degrees. “Yes,” she finds herself saying. “I know.”

Ernesto nods. “So, I had to be careful.”

“I covered for him more times than I can count.” Héctor smiles a little. “As far as his parents were concerned, he stayed over a lot to sleep on weekends.”

That causes Ernesto to chuckle. “Heh, right. I showed up in the morning for coffee, maybe slept a hour on the couch, and then I was off to my place again. I never meet any guy close to home - it was usually someplace around, like the next town over, or--”

“How did they find out?” Imelda blurts out. It seems the most logical conclusion, but Ernesto gives her a look that is almost offended.

“They didn’t find out! Give me some credit here! I was careful and I can act. They never suspected a thing,” he protests, and reaches to pick up one of the dogs, who’s been pawing at his shin. He sighs, placing her - Clara again, the little diva - on his lap. “... Well. They never would have found out if I hadn’t grown tired to hide. I shouldn’t have to. I was doing nothing wrong,” he adds. He’s stroking Clarita’s fur with a gentleness that is at odds with the vicious note in his voice.

Imelda nods, but her thoughts go to their family, what they would think of this… arrangement between the three of them. Óscar and Felipe are young, maybe they wouldn’t mind, but her parents… por Dios, they may very well have a stroke. They’re doing nothing wrong, they’re hurting no one, but they simply wouldn’t see it that way. Most people would at the very least raise an eyebrow, she is well aware of that.

The thought of it becoming known makes her uneasy, even though she cares little for anyone’s opinion of her. And Ernesto cares an awful lot what people think of him. “... Did you tell them?”

He sighs. “I had the bad idea of telling my mother.”

Oh, Imelda thinks. Oh. She can see where that is going. “... And she wasn’t pleased?”

Ernesto shrugs. “Well, no. Not angry, either. Disappointed, I guess, but not mad. I asked her to say nothing to my father. Begged her not to,” he adds, and gives a rueful smile. “And guess what she did next.”

Imelda finds herself really thinking for the first time in years of Estéban de la Cruz and his nearly legendary bad temper, and suddenly it’s as though her blood has turned to ice in her veins.

“Oh, God,” she murmurs. Ernesto gives the emptiest, most joyless smile she has ever seen.

“Yes. It went down about as well as you can imagine.”

Imelda stares at him for a moment, then glances at Héctor. He’s been silent so far, but he returns her gaze before turning to Ernesto, as though to ask for permission. There is a nod, and he turns back to her. “He came to stay with me for a while. He, uh, came over one night and he didn’t look too good. It wasn’t long before we left, a little before Día de los Muertos…”

… Wait. Wait a minute, she remembers bruises on his face. Imelda looks straight at Ernesto, her eyes wide. “You told me - everyone - that you’d been in a brawl. Some drunk guys in San Luz.”

He gives her a forced smile. “I am a good actor. It was only half a lie. There was a brawl all right. But of two people, and not in San Luz. All thanks to my dear mamá and her stupid mouth. Bu hey, if you think I looked bad, you should have seen him. Pretty sure I broke his nose. No one noticed because he's an anti-social asshole who never leaves the house unless forced,” he adds, and laughs. For all of his acting skills, it is the fakest laugh she has ever heard.

That, Imelda thinks numbly, must have been nightmarish. As much as she occasionally butts heads with her parents, and despite knowing they would not approve of her current lifestyle if they knew the details, she knows they will have her back if needed - her brothers, too. She can trust them. Ernesto opened up once, to his mother, and was burned in the worst possible way.

“He doesn’t want me back in his household, I bet, which is just fine with me,” Ernesto is saying, and leans in to pick up another of the chihuahuas, letting her settle on his lap as well. “And what she wants doesn’t matter anymore.”

Imelda stares at him for a few moments, then nods. “I see. I’m… sorry for what I said.”

That causes Ernesto to shift, as though suddenly uncomfortable. “You didn’t know.”

“No, I did not. That’s why I had no place saying what I did.”

It is the second time she apologizes in a day, and the second time Ernesto does not take the chance to gloat. He was still too upset in the morning. Now he’s doing… better, she supposes, but there is still no gloating at all. “We can just… forget about it,” he finally says, and looks over at Héctor. “So, uh. How did it go? The ceremony.”

“Huh? Oh. It went really well. There were a lot of people,” he says, and drops a hand on Ernesto’s shoulder. “I told mamá and papá you said hi.”

“... Gracias,” Ernesto mutters. He pats his knee, causing the remaining two chihuahuas to jump on his lap. They’re tiny enough to fit comfortably, and Ernesto smiles a little. “I’d like to drop by and say hi myself. Someday. Hey, remember that time we tried to make our own smoke bomb effects in your room, and--

As they go on talking and laughing about the havok they wrecked - por Dios, she didn’t know half of it and Héctor’s parents were nothing short of saints - and eventually leave the park, none of them notices a hairless dog following them from a distance, tail wagging, occasionally falling behind to chase a butterfly or a leaf.

***

Morning finds them in a pile on the bed, and Imelda is the first one to awaken. Again.

She was sitting against the headboard when she fell asleep, or at least she’s fairly sure she was. When she opens her eyes she’s on her back with Héctor snoring away by her side, face nestled in her hair. There is a weight on her, too, and she can guess who it is before she even glances down.

Ernesto is on top of them, head resting on Héctor’s chest but arms around them both, still deep in his sleep and silent. With a sigh, Imelda reaches to rest her only free hand on his head. Her fingers tangle in Ernesto’s hair, and he shifts just slightly, leaning into the touch. His grip on her - on them both - tightens a fraction, and Héctor mumbles in his sleep, nuzzling against her hair.

She should get up, she knows. Get up, take a shower, start making some breakfast, get to work; she has orders to keep up with… but she can do that later. It can wait a few more minutes, or a hour, or two.

Ernesto is heavy, Héctor keeps snoring, but she finds she doesn’t really mind.

***

[Back to Part 9]

[On to Part 11]

#pixar coco #hector rivera #imelda rivera #ernesto de la cruz #coco #mind the gap

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