The entire town came to the wake. It was a wonder that the Casa Sanchez could hold everyone. Actually, Joaquin was pretty sure it couldn't and that some people were outside. Everywhere he turned there was a press of people, talking and praying and telling stories.

Joaquin could barely hear himself think. He ended up trapped in the corner by Alonso Ruiz, who was so old he'd seen some of Manolo's great-grandmother's last bullfights. Unfortunately, he insisted on recounting every single one in a deaf bellow.

"She was a beast in the ring," Alonso shouted wistfully after the fifth or sixth story. Joaquin had honestly lost track. Most bullfights sounded the same when you heard them all in a row: the matador was impressive, the bull died, the crowds cheered, the end. "A beast." Alonso frowned. Disapproval colored his voice, narrowed his watery eyes. "And now there will be no more Sanchez matadors. Manolo may have helped to save the town, that was impressive, of course, but it's a shame that he's giving up the legacy and wasting his talents instead as a musician..."

It was Joaquin's turn to frown. Manolo had told him and Maria the entire story of his trip to the Land of the Remembered and the Land of the Forgotten. He remembered the bleak way Manolo had described the thousands of bulls that had crowded the underworld's ring, the suffering and pained rage in their eyes. The thought that Alonso actually wanted Manolo to go back into the ring and kill a bull was- He scowled.

"Weren't you there during the Day of the Dead? His family is proud of him, and his music," he said, interrupting. "And he didn't help save San Angel, he saved it." When Alonso stared blankly at him, he shook his head. It wasn't worth it to argue himself hoarse. He shouted, "Never mind! I just-" He waved vaguely at the crowd, like he'd seen someone he wanted to talk to, and then bolted.

He spotted Maria in the opposite corner of the room. Relief replaced most of his annoyance, and he began dodging people and working his way towards her. Her head was bent over Sister Ana's, her expression intent. Whatever Sister Ana said made her toss back her head and laugh, though he couldn't hear the sound over the noise. He wished he could. Arguing with Alonso had left a bad taste in his mouth.

He moved slowly through the crowd until he reached them, just in time for Maria to pat the sister's arm and say, "...not suggesting fencing, but I saw you fight Chakal's bandits. If you and the sisters are interested in self-defense classes- oh, Joaquin. There you are!"

Joaquin's heart skipped a beat at her pleased smile. He smiled back. It took him a second to remember that he should probably say something. "Maria. Sister Ana. Sorry to interrupt. I just needed a break from hearing about bullfights."

Sympathy and understanding warmed Maria's expression. "Let me guess. You've been talking to Señor Ruiz. Or Señora Aiza. She told me about seeing Carlos in three different bullfights." She sighed, her smile fading. "I know this is a time to remember them, but..."

"Maybe every story doesn't have to be about a bullfight?" Joaquin suggested.

"Exactly. But-" Maria looked past Joaquin. Her smile vanished.

Joaquin turned. Alonso had Manolo by the shoulder and was yelling into his ear. Joaquin knew exactly what the old man was saying, but he also recognized the look on Manolo's face. It was the forced smile he wore when he was unhappy and trying not to show it, like when Carlos had threatened to take away his guitar for good and Manolo had asked Joaquin to hide it for a week or two until his father calmed down.

Maria muttered something under her breath. Joaquin didn't catch the words, but her tone was dark. She stomped past him, a determined glint in her eyes. She tried to push through the crowd, but there were too many people; she took a step back and frowned. The speculative way she eyed the crowd reminded Joaquin of how she had elbowed people to get back to Manolo's side during the wedding.

Before she could actually wade into the crowd, he tapped her shoulder. "Maria, I've got this." At her raised eyebrow, he offered up a reassuring grin. He tapped his medals and puffed out his chest. "Every single one of these babies had a ceremony and a party to go with them. I am great at getting through a crowd." He waggled his eyebrows, startling a laugh from her. "Watch the master at work."

Still laughing, Maria smiled up at him. "Excuse us, sister. Joaquin, please, after you," she said with a wave of her hand.

Her warm voice felt like a touch of her hand against his cheek. He flushed. Then he forced back the heat from his face. "Right." He made it across the room in record-time, donning an expression that he knew from experience would earn him smiles but would also get everyone out of his way. Slinging an arm around Manolo's neck and dragging him a step back from Alonso, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

"Manny, I think it's time for bed."

Manolo relaxed into his touch; Joaquin felt his weight settle against his side. Manolo tilted his head towards Joaquin. Up close, Joaquin could see the pinched look on his face, though it faded a little as Manolo smiled, the slant of his mouth amused but a little rueful. "Bed? We're in the middle of a wake. I don't-"

"Uh huh, yeah, good points," Joaquin said over Manolo's protests. He turned his head, watching as Maria slipped between Manolo and Alonso and offered the old man a polite but somehow dangerous smile. Looking first confused and then a little worried, Alonso muttered something and disappeared into the crowd.

Joaquin smothered a laugh behind his fist. Manolo shifted a little against him, like he intended to step away now that Alonso was gone. Joaquin automatically tightened his grip around Manolo's shoulder. Now that he thought about it, Manolo getting away from Alonso and Señora Aiza and all this bullfighting talk seemed like a good idea. "Manny, the last few days have been pretty rough. And you still have to get through the funeral tomorrow. So Maria and I decided you're taking an early night."

Maria's lip thinned. For a second Joaquin worried that he'd offended her by putting words in her mouth. Then she spoke and he realized she was watching Manolo, a concerned crease between her eyes. She touched Manolo's cheek lightly. "Joaquin's right, my love. You need to rest. Go sleep. We'll send everyone home."

"I-" Manolo glanced between them. His smile turned crooked. "I just don't know how much sleep I'm going to get."

Joaquin blinked before understanding hit him. He thought of the caskets, covered in flowers and on display in the next room. He grimaced. A distant memory touched him then, of being very small and uncomfortable in his church clothes. His grandmother had pushed him towards his father's casket and told him to pay his last respects. He'd stood there for what seemed like hours, frozen in place, not knowing what to say, until Manolo and Maria had dragged him away. They'd hidden together for the rest of the wake, Manolo and Maria distracting him with stories.

"Sleep at my house," he said without thinking. He flushed a little at Manolo and Maria's matching looks of surprise. Scratching at the back of his neck, he shrugged and smiled awkwardly. "Well, mi casa es tu casa, right?"

Manolo's laughter reverberated against his chest. "Right."

"That's settled then," Maria said, satisfied. She patted Manolo's cheek. "Go and pack some clothes. Joaquin and I will handle things down here."

It was pretty easy to clear out the house. It helped that everyone got starry-eyed whenever Maria so much as smiled at them, and Joaquin was, after all, still one of San Angel's heroes. The suggestion that everyone should get a good night's rest before the funeral sent most people instantly towards the exits. Even Chuy helped, grumbling at Pepe and chewing on his pant's leg when the musician moved too slowly.

Manolo appeared with a bag of clothes slung over his shoulder just as Maria ushered the last person out. He smiled at them both. Joaquin was glad to see it wasn't the pinched, forced smile of before, but something warm and real. "Thank you," he said.

Joaquin waved it off, embarrassed by the way Manolo looked at him, his eyes bright. "Any time, Manny." He reached for the bag, and raised an eyebrow when Manolo moved it out of reach. "Come on, I can carry that."

"So can I," Manolo said. He took a step back as Joaquin made another grab for the bag. Now he made a face, half-smiling but a little frustrated too. A tinge of exasperation colored his voice. "You're acting like I'm fragile again. I thought you'd figured out I can take care of myself."

"I don't think you're fragile!" Joaquin protested. He looked over to Maria, but she just raised an eyebrow, like she thought Manolo had a point. Even Chuy, leaning against Maria's shins, wore a skeptical look. He frowned. He guessed he had been treating Manolo a little differently during the wake, after he'd seen that fake smile. Joaquin smoothed a hand over his mustache and shrugged. "I'm just trying to- you've had a rough few days."

"So have you."

Joaquin laughed until he realized Manolo was serious. Then he shook his head. "Manny, you died. That trumps anything I went through."

"I got better." Manolo wasn't smiling anymore. He stepped close to Joaquin. "You lost an eye." He reached up as though to touch Joaquin's eye patch.

Joaquin stepped back so quickly he tripped. He stumbled, and Manolo steadied him. He shrugged off Manolo's hand, roughly enough that Manolo took a step back and stared at him. An embarrassed heat prickled under Joaquin's skin. He said, stiffly, "I'm fine. I'm not going to break either, even if I'm not invincible anymore."

Manolo frowned. "I didn't-"

They both jumped as Maria shoved herself between them and snatched the bag from Manolo. She pursed her lips at them both, though she didn't seem angry, exactly. Joaquin wasn't sure what the look on her face meant. "I'll carry the bag," she said. She tilted her head. "Unless you think I'm too fragile to carry it..."

Joaquin and Manolo exchanged a look. "No," they said together.

"Good. Come on, Chuy."

Chuy looked at Joaquin and Manolo. His expression seemed to say, You two are idiots. Then he turned and waddled after Maria.

After a second, Manolo let out a slow breath. "Sorry," he said, not quite looking at Joaquin. "I guess the wake bothered me more than I thought. I didn't mean to take it out on you." He sighed. "I wanted to remember Papa, but everyone just wanted to talk about his bullfighting, not-" His voice gave a little hitch. When Joaquin looked at him, he was frowning down at his feet. "Do you remember, when you came to visit and told us about Chakal destroying those two towns? How Papa was the first one to suggest San Angel take in the orphans?"

"Yeah, of course I do," Joaquin said. "And then we all built a new orphanage since the old one was too small. You dropped a hammer on your hand the first day." He paused, remembering Carlos's fierce scowl as he'd bent over Manolo's hand, the relief in his voice when he'd declared nothing was broken. Joaquin cleared his throat. "Your father was a good man." When he looked at Manolo again, Manolo was smiling. He nudged at Manolo with an elbow. "Come on. Maria's going to beat us to my house."

Maria beat them there anyway. She'd even found a candle somewhere. She stood in the doorway, watching as he and Manolo approached. The candlelight played upon her face; even with her expression illuminated, he couldn't read her look.

He fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable, wondering what she thought of the place. He hadn't really spent a lot of his time at the house over the years, not since his grandmother had died and he'd pretty much moved into the general's barracks with the other soldiers. It probably hadn't changed at all since she'd last visited when they were kids, except that he now had a bigger bed and his grandmother's bedroom was a storage space. He'd been paying Rosa Campos to keep the house clean, so at least it couldn't be dirty. He coughed.

"Well, uh, welcome to Casa Mondragon. Make yourself at home."

Maria smiled at that. "Thank you, Joaquin."

"Well, mi casa-"

"-es tu casa, yes, I remember." Her smile turned fond, and he flushed and nearly tripped again.

Then Manolo yawned. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he laughed a little sheepishly, propping himself up against Joaquin's door-frame. He rubbed at his eyes. "It's okay if I just go to bed, right?"

Maria laughed and picked up the bag of clothes from where she'd set it by the entrance. "No, I thought we'd stay up until dawn for a second night in a row. Yes, go and sleep." She kissed his cheek, and then he turned a little and caught her mouth against his.

It was a quick kiss, but Joaquin still felt his stomach twist. He quickly looked around the room. Señora Campos had done her job. In fact, she probably deserved more money than he was paying her. He didn't see any dust at all. He said, still studying the furniture, "The bedroom is the second door to your left." He startled when arms wrapped around him, squeezing tight. Then he huffed out a laugh as Manolo yawned loudly in his ear, and relaxed. "Goodnight, Manny."

"Goodnight," Manolo said, and yawned a third time, dropping his head to Joaquin's shoulder. He stayed there, his breathing beginning to slow, like he was falling asleep. His breath was warm against Joaquin's throat. He leaned a little more against Joaquin, his heavy, sleepy weight somehow reassuring.

Joaquin shivered when Manolo's lips brushed his neck. His stomach gave another weird twist, and he pushed Manolo away. Then, looking at Manolo's half-closed eyes, the drowsy flush on his face, he couldn't help but smile. Trust Manolo to insist he was fine and then fall asleep on his feet. Fondness caught in his chest.

He took Manolo by the shoulders and steered him towards the bedroom. He was aware of Maria following after them, caught her smile when he turned his head towards her and said, "I think I have some extra blankets somewhere." He maneuvered Manolo to the bed, Manolo sprawling across it. He raised an eyebrow when Manolo flung an arm over his face and yawned, making no move to actually undress and barely stirring as Chuy jumped and curled up at the foot of the bed.

He glanced over at Maria, and then wished he hadn't, because the tender look she wore when she gazed at Manolo was like an unexpected blow. He turned away, moving over to his dresser and rummaging around for his night-shirt.

"Need a little help?" When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Maria was kneeling by the bed. His arm still over his face, Manolo nodded. She set the candle down on the bedside table and then took Manolo's foot in her hands. She pried the shoes off carefully. Manolo mumbled a thank-you as she put the shoes under the bed. As though she'd forgotten Joaquin was there, Maria laughed and cupped Manolo's bare foot, dropping a kiss upon his ankle.

Joaquin turned hastily. "I'll just-" He walked into the door, hard enough that his ears rang and he saw stars. He blinked, still too unaccustomed by pain not to be stunned by it. He touched his forehead carefully, but there wasn't any blood, just an ache that would probably be a bruise in the morning.

Behind him, Maria said, startled, "Joaquin! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said, and finally managed to get out of the room. He shut the door behind him and sank against it, closing his eye. Still he couldn't stop thinking about the way Maria looked at Manolo, the easy affection in every gesture, the way she and Manolo touched each other. His chest hurt. He pressed a fist against where the ache was worst and shook his head. He shouldn't be so surprised by it. They loved each other, after all. Why wouldn't they look at each other like no one else existed?

It was only as he straightened that he realized he hadn't actually grabbed anything from his dresser. He frowned down at his uniform. Then he considered going back into the bedroom. He grimaced. He could sleep in his underclothes. It wouldn't even be the first time; the desert nights were cold. He headed towards the couch, walking slowly in the dark, still relearning the house.

Joaquin took off his medals, running his fingers over the cold metal and remembering how he'd described every single one to Maria the other night. He remembered her expression. She'd been humoring him, just like she'd humored his interest, not wanting to hurt him but not wanting...him. A tired laugh escaped him. It really was funny how he could see so clearly now. He shook his head and set the medals on the table. His hand hovered over the eye patch, but he left it on, uncomfortable at the idea that Manolo and Maria might see. Then he stripped, folding his uniform and setting it aside.

He dropped onto the couch, his legs dangling over the arm. He closed his eye and tried to sleep. He couldn't. His breathing seemed too loud in his ears, and his head ached, dully, where he'd hit it on the door. And the strangeness of having Manolo and Maria sleeping in his bed was beginning to crowd out all his other thoughts. It seemed impossible that they'd agreed to his impulsive invitation, that they were both sleeping soundly in a bed he'd used only the night before. He shifted, suddenly too warm even without a blanket, embarrassed by the realization that they weren't even sleeping on fresh sheets.

Joaquin crept back to the bedroom, and knocked softly at the door. There was no answer. His chest tightened, and he thought- well, he didn't know what he thought. "Maria? Manolo?" He opened the door and leaned inside. The candle was still lit; it caught on Manolo's hair, dark and loosened from its usual ponytail so that it was spread upon the pillow.

Maria, sitting upright, paused in the middle of smoothing down her nightdress. She looked towards him. Her hair was down as well, tumbling around her face. She smiled, but there seemed to be a question in her eyes. "Joaquin?"

Joaquin forgot what he was going to say. He stared, and then realizing he was staring, and then, in a second realization, knew he should stop. Still, it was hard not to look, to stupidly want to keep this memory along with the others, though he had no right to this one. His mouth was dry. He felt dizzy, gripped the door-frame a little tighter to keep himself steady.

"Joaquin?"

Maria's soft repeating of his name broke the spell. He gave himself a mental shake and then forced himself to stare past her shoulder, keeping his eye fixed at a distant spot and definitely nowhere near her bare arms and her throat. He licked his lips. It took a second to trust his voice. "There are clean sheets in my dresser if you want them."

Manolo stirred. He propped himself on an elbow and looked towards Joaquin. A drowsy smile spread slowly across his face. He pushed some of his hair out of his face. "That's funny," he said. His voice was rough with sleep.

Joaquin blinked. "What's funny?"

"That you think we're going to let you sleep on the couch."

Frowning, Joaquin began, "Well, you're using the only bed..." He stopped as Manolo looked at him with a well, yesexpression. His chest went tight again. Incredulous laughter choked him. It wouldn't be the first time they'd all shared a bed, but the last time had been when they were six or seven, before the general had declared Maria too old to be sharing a bed with boys.

Joaquin looked over to Maria in a silent appeal. His stomach sank at her amused expression. He should have known better. Maria was always the one with the crazy ideas as a kid. She was probably proud of Manolo for coming up with one of his own. He shook his head. Slowly, fumbling for the right words, he said, "It'd be weird. We're not kids anymore. And you two-" His voice caught. He tried to smile. "You're married."

Maria's expression softened, but all she said was, "Come to bed, Joaquin." When he didn't move, she raised an eyebrow. "Manolo and I won't be able to sleep if you're out on the couch."

Manolo assumed a solemn look, though he immediately spoiled the effect by laughing. He sat fully upright and patted the bed. "Maria's right. You invited us here so we could sleep, didn't you?"

"Okay, that's cheating, first of all, using our friendship against me," Joaquin said, pointing at them. He sighed when they both grinned. How had he forgotten that he always lost when Manolo and Maria took it into their heads to do something? Still, he shook his head and tried one more time. "Second, the couch isn't that uncomfortable-"

"Come to bed, Joaquin," Maria said again. This time she leaned past Manolo and picked up the corner of the blanket, holding it up in invitation.

"I-"

They both looked at him.

Despite the tight, strange feeling in his chest and the conviction that this was a terrible idea, Joaquin stepped into the room. He'd never really been able to refuse them. Sometimes he'd just managed to argue them into a compromise. He closed the door and walked slowly over to the bed, a little distracted by the way Manolo's grin turned brilliant, Maria's quietly satisfied. Did they really not think it was weird, sharing a bed?

He got into the bed carefully, avoiding Chuy, who was snoring softly by Manolo's feet. He settled down on his side, facing the door, still uncomfortable and feeling a little ridiculous. The bed wasn't really big enough for three people; he had only the very edge of the pillow, and Manolo's knee kept digging into his back as Manolo moved around. Then Manolo's back pressed against his, warm even through his nightshirt. He remembered dancing at the wedding, still unsteady on his feet until he'd stumbled against Manolo and Manolo had leaned against him, bracing him and grinning. The tight feeling eased a little. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Manolo said.

Joaquin closed his eye. The bed shifted again, and soft hair tickled his cheek. He opened his eye just as Maria kissed his forehead, gently, next to where he'd struck his head on the door. "Goodnight, Joaquin."

He couldn't answer her.

Beside him, Manolo asked plaintively, "Can I get a goodnight kiss too?"

"You already got one," Maria said, laughing, but bent and kissed him too. "Sweet dreams."

"They could never be as sweet as you," Manolo assured her, and Joaquin closed his eye again, smiling helplessly at Maria's amused laughter.

Manolo fell asleep first, his body relaxing against Joaquin's, his breaths coming slower and slower until he was sleeping just as soundly as before. He moved around in his sleep, his bare foot kicking lightly at Joaquin's. Joaquin wondered, a little amused, if Manolo would steal the blanket during the night and then apologize the next morning like he had as a kid.

Then Maria followed suit, blowing out the candle and settling against Manolo. After a few minutes, her slow breathing was a beat behind his.

The quiet, unsynchronized sounds tugged at Joaquin, half-lulling him to sleep. He resisted the pull, wanting to stay awake a little longer. He clutched at this feeling, this moment. It seemed more important than the other ones he'd tucked away to remember on the road, but somehow more fragile, like if he moved or breathed wrong he would ruin it.

Manolo was warm against him, and Maria's kiss seemed to linger on his cheek. He pushed the blanket back, blindly, so that it would cover Manolo and Maria instead, too hot for covers. Affection twisted in his stomach again. "I'm going to miss you guys," he confessed in a whisper, knowing that they were both asleep and couldn't hear. The words scratched his throat. Then he let himself sleep, though his dreams were fragmented and strange.