Bruno's overall sense of organization, particularly when it came to his own belongings, ranged from "loosely piled in that corner" to "probably under the bed" to "I swear I saw it last Wednesday," but he prided himself on being able to locate whatever he needed within about ten minutes of realizing he needed it.

What was the phrase – organized chaos?

However, he was currently approaching the half hour mark of tearing apart his room looking for his ruana. That, at least, he knew fell into the category of "had it yesterday" but God only knew where it had gone since then, and He had yet to let Bruno in on the secret. Bruno eyed the chest of drawers on the far wall, weighing his options. Today was market day, which meant several exhausting hours of barter and banter with the shopkeepers and a twenty-minute walk one way with the burro and the cart. It was also deep in the middle of the rainy season, which also meant several exhausting hours of cold rain regardless of Pepa's mood. He could just refuse to do the shopping – it wasn't uncommon for him to be waylaid by migraines or exhaustion. The risk he would take though – Mamí could call his bluff by sending Julieta up with tea or food and then give him a lecture for his trouble. Or worse, she would bring guests to the house for dinner, guests who conveniently needed to make use of him. He ruffled his hair until it stood on end and blew a raspberry to the room at large. Supposing he could layer a few shirts and make do, but still extremely annoyed with it all, he stomped down to breakfast.

Julieta stood over the stovetop, casting a critical eye first at the arepas sizzling away and then at her brother, the latter making only slightly less noise than a disgruntled jaguar as he fell into his chair. She flipped the corn cakes over to brown the other side. Casita helpfully passed her a stack of plates and two mugs.

"Gracias, Casita," she said. Her hands nimbly lifted the food directly from the cooktop and portioned it out. "¿Quieres chocolate, corazón?"

"Have you seen my ruana?" asked Bruno.

"I'll take that as a 'yes, please,'" she said pointedly.

"And you didn't grab it for the washing?"

"Hmm...a 'yes, please with extra cheese.' And Pepa already left with the washing so I could get started on dinner."

Bruno blinked. "We haven't even finished breakfast!"

Julieta shrugged, "Lots of guests means lots of food."

"This is how I got stuck going into town."

"Just wear the green one."

Bruno made a face. He hated wearing the green one. The drab ruana drew much less attention, and 'easily ignored' was how he preferred to go through market days, especially alone.

"Fine, don't wear it, but you're going to be cold."

Bruno harrumphed moodily into the mug of hot chocolate his sister sat in front of him. He felt a slight tug on his pants leg and looked down to find little Luisa pulling herself up to peer onto the table. She had figured out how to escape the nursery much more quickly than either her cousin or her sister. Or maybe Casita figured he needed company.

"Buenos días, nena. ¿Como estás?" He picked her up and sat her on his lap.

She pointed to his mug. "Chock?"

"Not for you, mi vida." Julieta pulled the mug out of Luisa's reach, causing a tremulous pout.

Sensing danger, Bruno hastily reached for an arepa and stuffed it in her mouth when she opened it to cry. Mollified, she sat back against her uncle and munched on her corn cake while refusing to look at her mother.

Bruno pushed her hair aside and tucked it behind her ear, whispering, "Maybe we can share when your Mamí isn't looking."

Julieta rolled her eyes good-naturedly and dutifully returned to the stove to begin working on breakfast for the late risers. "On your head be it."

Bruno and Luisa locked eyes and grinned. Bruno slid the cup back toward his niece and helped her raise it to her mouth. The appreciative "Mm!" she gave was drowned in two outraged squawks from his eldest sobrinas as they rounded the corner. They knew they weren't allowed hot chocolate for breakfast. Bruno was sputtering excuses and apologies to Isabela and Dolores while Luisa continued to help herself to his food. By the time reinforcements arrived, his drink had been split between three mugs ("fairly, Tío!"), and he had only managed to salvage a fried egg from the remains of his breakfast.

Julieta began, "So..."

"Not one word." Bruno said darkly.

Julieta sniggered to herself as she loaded a second mug and two plates of arepas into her arms to bring to the table, resolutely not looking at his face lest she dissolve into giggles. She very graciously left him alone to eat and did not try for conversation again until he had downed two of the corn cakes and half of the hot chocolate.

"But you are going to market, ¿sí?"

He cast an eye at the doorway through which the girls had toddled after pilfering his first attempt at breakfast. Judging by the shrieks and giggles, their energy was high – no doubt bolstered by the hot chocolate. But given the choice...

"What are my options?" he asked flatly.

"You can go to market as is and freeze half to death -"

"I'll take that one."

"- or you can get your green ruana -"

"- and take twice as long to do the marketing -"

"Or," she paused for effect. "You can stay here -"

"Yes."

"- and make lunch for the girls."

The arepa that had made it halfway to his mouth fell out of his hand and into his mug. He swore briefly, trying to fish it out.

"Language, corazón," Julieta warned as Dolores poked her head around the corner.

"Don't let Mamá hear you say that, Tío," she said seriously. "Papá did, and Mamá wouldn't let him leave their room without hailing on him for four days, but he said he didn't mind being hit on by her, but I think you might."

Splash!

The arepa fell back into the mug.

Dolores's look of concern turned to one of indignation as her tía doubled over, breathless from laughing, and her tío practically ran from the kitchen, red faced and muttering rapidly about his ruana and the market and children.

After another futile hour searching high and low and everywhere in between for the missing ruana, he gave up – a decision that was made entirely on his own, he told himself, because he was a grown man who did not regularly misplace his possessions and who was definitely not afraid of invoking his mother's wrath by wasting time looking for them. As he was drawing these conclusions, Mamá had very helpfully knocked on his door and let herself in while he was crawling out from under his bed to inform him she had expected him to leave at a decent hour and not to be playing on the floor and for Heaven's sake, he had better not return looking like a drowned rat. Under her watchful gaze, he stood up with an indignant huff, dusted himself off, and silently pulled the green ruana over his head.

Her expression softened unexpectedly, and he felt a small pang in his chest.

She never looked at him like that any more.

"You remind me so much of your papá sometimes, mijo. He would fret for hours to find the right shirt if I let him..."

She held his eyes for a moment more, reflecting, but he saw the moment the mantle of Abuela settled back on to her shoulders and looked away.

"Come, we still have to load the wagon. Julieta has honey and spices for trade, and Pepa needs another length of wool and maybe cotton, if you can find some at a fair offer. Señora Sepulveda has Isabela's dress ready – oh, and Félix is in town to..."

He followed her as she listed out what needed to be bought or sold or bargained around, mentally ticking off the vendors who would refuse him and keeping the ones who would trade cheaply just to get away from him in the forefront of his mind. He had the cart loaded within an hour and was just guiding the mule toward the drive when a small thump made him stop. He turned and looked to see what had unsettled itself.

A small head covered in thick black hair had clamored up between several jars of honey and was doing its best to burrow into the provisions.

"Mi cariño, ¿que estás haciendo?" He chuckled as she scooted down further, trying not to be seen. "Isabela?"

"I wanna go with you!" she pouted. "Please?"

"I...um, not this time, cariño."

"Why not?"

"Because...because ...I-I...was going to get...you something. A surprise!" He made up quickly, praying the other two were not around to hear. "A special surprise but if you go with me, it won't be a surprise anymore."

Her eyes danced. "For my birthday!?"

"Mm...mmhm!" He kept his lips pursed to prevent himself from swearing again; small wonder today had gone sideways. His mind infallibly filed most manner of holiday or birthday into "Forget as quickly as possible." He hated them – well, no, that was false – he hated his birthday. And most holidays. And he hated the celebrations that came with both, but for Isabela... for Isa, he would put on his best brave tío face. "Tha-that's right, cariño."

She beamed. "What is it?"

"A surprise," he repeated with a patient, if tight, smile. "But only if you hop down so I can go get it. We've got a lot to do to get ready for tonight. I know your mamí will want to make sure everything goes perfectly for such an important occasion."

"She wants me to wear a dress." Isabela did not sound pleased with the thought, and he supposed that given his sister's insistence that dresses were not made to be played in around dirt or grass or trees or paints or with anything in the kitchen, he could understand.

"It's just for one night," he said. "Come here."

She let herself be taken out of the cart but stared up at him with crossed arms - the resemblance to his mother was disturbing. She was chewing on her lip, a sure sign she had more pressing matters on her mind than a dress. He suppressed a sigh – not that he was eager to go into town but the sooner he left, the sooner he could return – and hobbled the burro and sat down cross-legged on the grass. She accepted the invitation to sit but kept chewing on her lip until he laid a hand on her cheek and ran his thumb over her mouth.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Abuela thinks the Magic will grant me a blessing." She blurted.

His stomach and his heart abruptly swapped places. "O-oh?"

"Do you?"

"I..." Truthfully, he had never thought that any sobrinas of his would be subject to the Magic. As far as he had been able to glean over the years, the Magic had been born of a very specific need for the village, and loathe though he was to admit it, his and his sisters' gifts were indispensable to a town built by refugees – food and medicine, weather, incoming danger. He had never entertained the thought that more would be asked of his family. It made his insides twist themselves into knots.

Pepa's already left..

Lots of guests...

This is how I got stuck going into town...

...Isabela's dress..

For my birthday...

Snippets of the morning came back to him as fear and anger battled for control. He forcibly sat down on both, pulling his mind back to the large brown eyes in front of him.

"I don't know, cariño," he kept his voice low. "Our magic...is different from most I know of. If it feels like we have a need, the need will be met, and that may mean a Gift or a Casita or an Encanto or a family, together and safe."

She smiled and gave him a hug around the neck and a kiss. "We already have all of that! So maybe Abuela is wrong, and I can just eat buñuelos for dinner!"

He tickled her for a solid minute after that, then set her on her feet and told her as sternly as he could between chuckles to go find her mother.

He hoped he had said the right thing. Because if he were completely honest... he didn't think the Magic was finished with his family, and he was very unsure of his own feelings on the matter.

Author's Note: Well, this was not where I originally intended to go with this but any scene with Bruno and the children is probably why we all love him so much, right? The last two things I've published have been a little darker in tone, and while I'm not promising this story won't go there, I figured it was the right time for family fluff.

(Side note, I could probably converse with a toddler in Spanish if I tried but I know my spelling and grammar are atrocious, so please forgive me.)

I would love to hear your thoughts!