Imelda was awake well before dawn, as usual ...but she'd already decided that breakfast could wait today. She laid her head across her arms and watched her husband sleep.

Hector really was ridiculous most of the time, but there was something genuinely beautiful about him that she never quite got enough of. She loved his little smiles, the warmth in his eyes… that he was so gentle and kind with everyone. She loved the way his stubborn hair did as it pleased, no matter how often he tried to smooth it down. Loved seeing his sleepy face surface out of his pillow every morning. She loved him for the doting Papá he was to Coco...
...And she hated that he kept leaving them to chase this big dream of his - to play for the world…

Hector had been talking about being famous one day since she'd met him, but Imelda really wasn't sure how much of that was Hector and how much of it was that sketchy amigo of his, pushing the idea. Imelda had never liked Ernesto particularly -though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. He'd had been nothing but charming and polite, the few times he'd deigned to visit the house… But there was just something… greedy in the way he looked at her husband that gave her a chill.
Still... Hector called him his hermano, and she'd chosen to respect that ...So she'd welcomed De La Cruz into their home like family, whether she wanted to or not.

Imelda wondered idly who her husband was trying to impress, or if he even knew. Did he imagine he needed fame and fortune to keep her attention? Her love?
If so, he was a bigger idiot than she thought.
Hector was certainly talented. He had a voice she could listen to for hours, and clever hands that knew just what to do with a guitar. He was an artist, which she respected… but she would have loved him even if he couldn't carry a tune with both hands and a basket to put it in.

Some men were just stupid, Imelda decided with a quiet sigh. There was no help for it. It was just her luck she'd fall head over heels in love with one of them.

"Y're thinking v'ry loud." Hector mumbled, tossing an arm across her waist and trying lazily to tug her closer. " 's t' early for thinking. S'time for sleeping with y'r marido guapo."

"Oh, do I have one of those?" Imelda mused, pushing back the thatch of hair that half covered his face, and pretending to study him intently.
"Should I tell him about you?"

Hector pouted, face still more or less buried in his pillow, doing his very best to look offended - and Imelda couldn't quite stifle the very undignified giggle that slipped out. She let him pull her in, her poker face failing miserably.
"So cruel. Heartless, ev'n." Hector whined, coiling his gangly arms around her.
Imelda tried for stern indignation... but the gleam in Hector's eye told her it wasn't working.
"Might need a lot of kisses to recover from that..."

"Idiota." Imelda rolled her eyes fondly.

"Ci, sometimes," Hector acknowledged with a shrug. They were lying nose to nose and he was beaming that big, ridiculous, hint-of-gold grin of his. "But I'm your favorite one, ¿verdad?"

"Ci." She took his face firmly between her hands and kissed him soundly, until Hector saw stars. "You are definitely my favorite, amor."

Hector blinked up at her, heavy-eyed and dreamy when she let go.
"Ay, if you keep doing that, I might just stay here forever…"

Imelda snorted, reluctantly detaching herself from his grip "Don't you go getting ideas now, tonto. It's already 8 o'clock. I'm amazed no one has beaten down our door yet, looking for you."

"Eh, Ernesto has met you." Hector dismissed lightly. "I'm sure he'd understand if I needed a little more time to… uh... 'say goodbye'."

Imelda actually considered it for a brief, heady instant. ...But she didn't fancy having that pelmazo actually breaking down the door, especially if they were… busy… at the time. And she wouldn't put it past him. De la Cruz was always impatient to get Hector out of the house and onto the road, almost bordering on rudeness. That man would trample a nun if he thought there was applause to be had behind her...

Instead she kissed the tip of her husband's nose, and firmly removed his hands from her waist.
"Not today, amado."

"Just as well," Hector sighed, finally letting her go. "I do need to be able to walk, to get to the train station."

Imelda flushed pink, stopping cold halfway off the edge of the bed. She turned back, shooting him a scandalized glare. Hector just grinned, completely unrepentant. It shouldn't have been endearing, and yet…

Imelda shook her head.
"My idiota...I guess I'll keep you."

"Well, you did already feed me. Now you're stuck with me." Hector leaned up on one elbow, watching appreciatively as Imelda dressed. "Don't you know, musicians are like street dogs? I'll be following you around forever, now."

"I knew I shouldn't have let you in." Imelda's muffled voice emerged from the faded lavender gingham dress she was pulling over her head.
She tugged it down into place, and when the skirt was settled just right, turned around expectantly, holding her hair clear. Hector obediently rolled up to his knees and set to work on the little wood buttons that went up the back.

"This one's my favorite," he informed her when he was done, admiring his handiwork.

Imelda leaned over to kiss his cheek, then sat down at her vanity, deft fingers plaiting her hair up into a thick braid with military precision.
"You say that about all of them," she reminded him absently over her shoulder as she tied the end.

"Do I? It must just be the pretty senõra underneath-"

"Mamá? Papá?" Impatient little hands pounded suddenly on the door. "Mamá-a-á? Papá-a-á?"

"We're awake, mi'ja. Just wait a moment." Imelda called, rolling her eyes as Hector went scrambling for his clothes.
At least he'd learned to get dressed quickly from all that time on the road…
He was still hopping around trying to get his other boot on when Imelda opened the door.