Tío Bruno sets aside his coffee just in time for Antonio to scramble unceremoniously into his lap.
"Good morning, Tío!" he greets the man with more than his usual enthusiasm, wrapping his uncle in a big hug.
"Good morning, Toñito," Bruno replies, smiling and shaking his head at the boy's antics. "How are you this morning?"
"Good!" Antonio spreads his arms apart as if to accentuate his point. "How are you, tío? Are you good, too?"
"I'm fine, mijo," Bruno says, ruffling his hair before reaching once more for his coffee. Antonio turns and beams at him.
"I knew you were," the kid declares. "The rats were worried, but I told them you were okay. That you've been eating and everything. And then the leopard said-"
"The rats are worried?" Camilo interrupts, pausing mid-bite, fork raised halfway to his mouth. He's looking at Antonio, so he misses the way Bruno goes suddenly still, eyes widening ever so slightly as if he's been caught.
Mirabel, on the other hand, doesn't.
Antonio, also oblivious, nods. "Because he hasn't been sleeping. But I told them-"
"You haven't been sleeping?" Mirabel's mom interrupts, gaze shifting toward her brother in an almost accusatory way, but by now Bruno seems to have recovered enough to meet her gaze evenly.
"Sand," he says, voice just little clipped. "Remember the sand?" he asks, and Antonio turns once more in his seat to look at his uncle. Bruno shifts and smiles down at him, though this time the smile is just a little bit forced. "It's a little noisy. I haven't gotten used to it yet."
Antonio nods as if he understands. "All the animals want to sleep with me at night. It gets a little crowded sometimes, with all those bodies piled in together."
"Right," Bruno agrees. "Nothing to worry about, though."
"That's what I told them," Antonio says.
Mirabel's mother does not look entirely convinced, and Camilo, though he's gone back to his meal, is eyeing their tío a little strangely. Bruno shifts, meets Camilo's gaze, and defiantly takes a bite of arepa, as if to disprove whatever suspicions the boy might currently be harboring.
Mirabel herself isn't entirely sure why Camilo might be suspicious of the man either, but has to admit that there's something a little odd about the entire interaction.
The rest of breakfast seems like it's going to go off without a hitch, though. It's a bit of a relief, honestly, considering that the last couple of meals have been-interesting to say the least.
Not that anything that's happened hasn't been important-or that she would sacrifice her sisters'-or cousins'-well being for the sake of quiet at the table. It's just been stressful, and it's nice to have a little calm.
Antonio looks back up at Bruno. "Alejandro says the only time you don't sleep is when you're holding back a vision," he says.
"The rat?" Tía Pepa asks critically, and that might have been the end of it, had Antonio not nodded and answered.
"He's worried about Tío getting sick. He said Tío would get sick, and wouldn't eat, and wouldn't sleep. But I told him Tío was eating, so it's okay." He turns around to look up at his uncle again. "You are okay, right Tío?"
Once again Bruno looks caught, though only for a moment, and then his expression abruptly smooths out. "I'm fine, Toñito," he assures the boy. You said it yourself, I'm eating, right?"
Antonio nods, and suddenly Mirabel wonders if the only reason their uncle has been eating the way he has since the miracle returned is to convince them of exactly that.
She dismisses the thought as absolutely ridiculous a second later, at least until Antonio nods and wraps him in one final hug before climbing back into his own chair, and Bruno looks relieved as the boy goes.
A quick survey of the room reveals that Dolores is studying her own breakfast with pursed lips, Camilo still looks more than slightly suspicious, Dad looks thoughtful, and Mom looks worried, none of which is a particularly good sign.
Bruno clears his throat, setting aside his fork. "Alejandro and I have been through some tough times together," he says, his expression solemn. "He's seen me-not at my worst, exactly, but he's seen enough that he worries, even when he doesn't need to."
"He gets nervous easy," Antonio agrees. "But he loves you a lot, Tío. He doesn't want anything to happen to you." His eyes are earnest as he adds, "Neither do I."
Bruno smiles and reaches over, pulling the boy into an awkward side-hug. "You don't have to worry about me, Toñito. I'm okay."
Augustín shoos Julieta out of the kitchen after breakfast, reminding her that she and Luisa are supposed to be taking a couple of days off, and insisting that he and Bruno can manage cleaning up after the meal just fine. Bruno looks up from his coffee at the realization that he's being volunteered for clean-up duty, but doesn't argue.
Julieta doesn't argue either, only spares her husband a searching glance before leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.
Augustín lets the dishwater run and collects the dishes leftover from breakfast while Bruno continues to sip at his coffee. When Augustín starts washing and the other man doesn't immediately join him, he wonders if maybe Bruno's decided he's not interested in helping.
Not that it matters. Bruno helping with dishes isn't really the point anyway.
But eventually Bruno moves, joining him at the sink, grabbing a towel and reaching for the glass in Augustín's hand before he can set it down.
"You okay, Bruno?" Augustín asks. "In my admittedly limited experience, the rats don't tend to get worked up over nothing."
Bruno shrugs, shoulders hunching forward slightly, but continues drying the glass in his hand.
Augustín waits, because if the rats were, in fact, worked up over nothing the man would have already assured him of such. As it stands now, however, Bruno looks more as if he's trying to decide how much to say-or if he even wants to say anything at all.
"It's an adjustment, being back," Bruno finally says, sounding tired.
"With your gift?" Augustín asks carefully. Bruno shakes his head.
"No visions," he says softly. "But-I got used to being alone. To hiding. And, to be honest, sleeping during the day rather than at night-people were usually gone during the day, which made it safer. And it was easier to scrounge for food if I knew everyone was in bed."
Bruno pauses as if waiting for his brother-in-law to pass judgment. Augustín remains silent, waiting to see if the other man will continue.
"And even before-I missed more meals than I didn't. Spent a lot of time hiding, whether from people in the town, or from my own family. But I don't want that any more. I want to be a part of the family. I want to spend time with my nieces and nephews, and with my sisters-" he shoots an uncertain glance toward Augustín "and you and Félix. I want to get to know everyone, and for them to know me, which means eating meals with everyone, and not hiding away-but it's still a lot."
"It doesn't have to be all at once," Augustín suggests. "If you need a break, or some time to yourself, we'll understand."
Bruno shrugs. "I feel like I'm running out of time-that's not a prophecy or anything. Just me, probably being overly dramatic or anxious or whatever. But still-Mamí talks about second chances, and that's exactly what I've been given. I don't want to screw it up."
"You're not," Augustín assures him. "The kids love you. Julieta and Pepa, and Félix and I, for that matter, are glad to have you back. So is Abuela, even if things are bit complicated right now. She still loves you, Bruno. And yes, she missed you while you were gone."
Bruno doesn't say anything else, and Augustín lets the matter drop, content to finish the dishes and tidy up the rest of the kitchen in silence.
Their work finished, Bruno sets a kettle on the stove, grabbing two cups and spoons. Augustín, accepting the action for the invitation it is, responds by hunting down the sugar bowl (never in the same place twice, sadly) while Bruno grabs a tin of tea leaves.
They share a quiet cup together, Augustín willing to simply let the man be now that he's said his piece. He's not above looking the man over, though, and the truth is Bruno looks exhausted.
Not that he's ever looked fully rested in all the years that Augustín has known him. Or that he ever even looks particularly well. But the dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced than usual, and there's a certain set to the man's shoulders that suggests that he's keeping himself upright by sheer force of will.
Bruno catches him staring and raises an eyebrow. Rather than explain himself and call the man out, Augustín simply toasts the his cuñado with his mug.
"At the risk of repeating myself, you know you can talk to me, don't you?" Augustín says. "About the kids, about trying to get used to being back-about anything, really."
Bruno nods. "I know," he says, though there's something in his voice that suggests that in Bruno's mind, at least, there's a limit; he can only say so much, can only admit to certain things. There are things he feels he can't tell any of them, and no amount of reassurance is likely to change that.
Well. Augustín can't necessarily change that. At least, not right now. All he can do is keep reminding the man that they're here for him and hope that one day he'll actually start to believe it.
"Thank you," Bruno says, favoring him with a smile that, while still a bit tense, is not entirely without warmth.
Augustín favors the man with a smile of his own. "I figure since you're so determined to look after the girls, the least I can do is return the favor."
Bruno grunts and immediately deflects. "Offering to babysit the rats, cuñado?" he fires back, startling a laugh out of Augustín. "I wonder how Juli feels about the matter? Because as much as I would enjoy having a night to myself, more than a few, Alejandro included, regularly insist on climbing into bed with me, and no amount of arguing will change their minds."
Augustín shakes his head and plays along. "Honestly, we'd probably end up sharing a couch, the rats and I, after Juli kicked us all out. Probably wake up to the leopard curled up with us too."
"I've noticed the creature seems to have taken a liking to you," Bruno comments blandly from behind his cup of tea.
"Creature?" Augustín echoes. "What happened to being polite?"
"It's not here, is it?" Bruno asks, the shrugs. "I trust Antonio, but it still makes me nervous. Cats eat rats."
"Not this one, apparently." Augustín concedes. "You're not missing any, are you?"
Bruno shakes his head. "No, nobody's missing," he concedes. "And if I'm being honest, I've caught a couple of them riding around on its back more than once, noses and tails up in the air like royalty, proud as any rat I've ever seen."
Augustín chuckles at the mental image painted by his brother-in-law.
He doesn't miss the way the man gets a little more relaxed with every moment that passes without them returning to their earlier conversation.
Luisa has no idea what to do with herself.
None.
Not a clue.
It's not a good feeling. Who knew taking a day off could be so hard? Well, there was the time she hurt herself when they were rebuilding Casita, but she didn't have her gift then, and they had Tío Bruno as a distraction (as terrible as that sounds even in the privacy of her own mind).
This? This is completely different. She needs to be doing something-anything-but everything that comes to mind is work related, and she's not supposed to be doing work right now, which leaves-
Nothing. Work-helping the village-has been her life for almost as long as she can remember. It's filled most of her days, morning to night. It's been something she's taken pride in, something that, if she's being honest, has more or less defined her.
Who is she, without her work?
A graceful yet muscular arm works its way through hers, startling Luisa. She looks down to find her mother grinning up at her, and if the grin is just a little forced, well that just reassures the girl that she's not the only one trying to figure things out.
"You know what would be nice?" Mamá says, tilting her head back a little further so their eyes can meet. "A walk. I haven't been on a walk in ages, not just for the sake of walking." Her smile changes to fond and just a little bit sappy. "Your father and I used to go on walks all the time."
"Romantic walks?" Luisa asks. Her mom giggles, her face flushing a delicate pink.
"When he wasn't tripping over his own feet," she admits, still fond. "We used to walk all over the Encanto when he was courting me."
Her mother sighs, and Luisa sighs too at the thought, though she can't help but wonder if there will ever be anyone like that for her-Isabela has always had suitors, and even Dolores has received her share of longing gazes from across a crowded room over the years. No one's ever been interested in her, though, not like that.
It's never bothered her before, because up until now she's always been busy, and it's not like she's ever felt that way about anyone, but now that she's had the thought, Luisa can't banish it back to wherever it came from.
"How did you two meet?" Luisa asks. Her mother laughs, her smile widening, then shrugs.
"We saw a lot of each other growing up," she says. "Your father was every bit as clumsy when we were children as he is now. Maybe even more so. He was constantly getting into all sorts of accidents, most thankfully not too bad, but enough that he appreciated it when I came into town. And I suppose since we saw so much of each other it was only natural for us to get to know each other better, and eventually become friends...and more."
"Was there a dinner where he asked for your hand? Like with Mariano and Isabela-not that it worked. Not that that's a bad thing, I mean-" Luisa stops talking.
Her mother leans in for a quick hug. "He did," she confirms. "I was so nervous-and so was he. He nearly tripped on the front step and fell flat on his face. And nearly choked during dinner. He kept trying to find the right time to bring it up, and Abuela, well she didn't immediately approve of your father at first, so she wasn't about to make it easy on him."
"What happened?" Luisa asked, intrigued. "Did he finally ask?"
Mama smiles and shakes her head. "I think he would have left without getting the question out, and that would have been the end of it, if Brunito hadn't come stumbling into the dining room, taken one look at him, and said; 'That's my seat, cuñado, go find your own.'"
"He did?" Luisa asks, a little surprised. Her mother nods.
"Of course, your father starts stuttering apologies, and starts to get up only for Pepa to catch Brunito by the arm and drag him down to sit next to her, spilling a glass of water in the process. Five minutes after everything's settled back down your father looks up and asks, face blood-red, 'What did you call me?' Brunito just stares at him, and his face somehow gets even redder, and that's when Abuela figures it out."
Luisa laughs along with her mother, at least until a thought occurs to her. "Do you think Tío Bruno did it on purpose?" she asks.
Her mom shrugs. "Could be. He took a liking to your father fairly quickly-far more quickly than he ever took to any of Pepa's suitors." She frowns for a moment before shaking her head, discarding whatever private memory threatens to dampen the mood. "Anyway, why the sudden interest? Has someone taken interest in my second oldest daughter? Or has she taken interest in someone?"
Luisa shakes her head. "Just curious," she admits. "I've never really thought about that kind of thing much, not for me anyway."
"Oh," her mother falters for only a moment, "I'm sure you'll find someone. When the time is right, when you meet the right person-you'll see."
Luisa's not sure about that, or whether or not she even wants that, but returns her mother's embrace anyway.
It's nice, just walking, and talking, even if Luisa can't quite get rid of the nagging feeling that she should be doing something useful.
They reach the house just in time to meet up with Mariano, who smiles, offers an uncertain bow, and greets them both.
"Señora Madrigal," he addresses Julieta first, his voice warm, before turning to Luisa. "Señorita."
"Señor Guzman." Julieta returns the greeting while Luisa nods in reply. "What brings you to our home this fine day?"
"Ah," he ducks his head ever so slightly, "I do not mean to intrude. I only hoped to stop by and see how Dolores is doing."
"Of course," Julieta agrees, waving with her free hand in invitation for him to join them. "I'm sure she's on her way down-"
"Here," Dolores opens the front door as if on cue. She's still holding herself carefully, as if still struggling a bit with her gift, but looks considerably better than she did the day before. "Thank you, Tía," she says, raising her eyebrows in a wordless dismissal of both Julieta and her daughter before turning her attention back to Mariano. "Hello."
"Feel free to invite him for lunch," Julieta murmurs softly as she and Luisa excuse themselves. Dolores nods in response without looking away from Mariano as he smiles down at her and immediately starts telling her how much he missed her.
Hoping to find somewhere secluded without being too private to talk, Dolores asks if Mariano has seen the garden since Isabela got her gift back. When he admits that he has not, she leads him back outside and around the back of the house, only to find Tío Bruno and Antonio there, along with Antonio's leopard.
Annoyance immediately gives way to bafflement as Antonio starts running straight at their uncle, who is sitting on the ground with his back to the boy.
Bruno waits until the last possible moment before turning, catching Antonio in his arms, dragging the boy into his laps, and tickling him mercilessly.
"Ah! No, Tío-" Antonio is laughing to hard to do anything other than thrash about in Tío Bruno's lap. "Help!"
The leopard, tail twitching, climbs to its feet and makes its way toward the two.
Antonio manages to break free of his captor and scrambles to his feet. "I was being quiet," he tells the leopard.
"You were giggling, Toñito," Tío Bruno counters. Antonio ducks his head, but doesn't look particularly upset.
"He says to hold still so he can show me again."
Bruno sighs. "Mijo, you know I would do anything for you, but why me?"
"Because you stepped on his tail."
"And I apologized."
"And he says you make funny noises when you're startled."
Tío Bruno sighs. "He's already disappeared, hasn't he?"
Antonio laughs. "Uh-huh," he confirms. Turning and catching sight of Dolores and Mariano, he smiles and waves. "Parce says I need to learn how to pounce," he greets them cheerfully.
Before either of them can ask exactly what that means, the leopard decides to strike. Dolores can hear it running before she sees it, tearing toward her uncle at full speed.
It leaps before Mariano can shout out a warning, and for a moment Dolores is certain they're going to need Tía Julieta's gift of healing.
The leopard lands right beside Bruno, startling the man and sending him scrambling sideways with a yelp, and for a moment the animal looks almost smug.
Antonio is laughing as Tío Bruno pulls himself together, dusts himself off, and turns to level a half-glare that is completely lacking in any sort of ire in the leopard's direction.
"And Antonio needs to learn this because?" he asks, as if it can answer.
"Parce says all cubs need to learn to pounce properly. Though-Chispi thinks he just likes to tease you."
"Chispi?"
"The capybara."
"Ah." Tío looks up, seeming to finally realize they have an audience. "Doli," he says, using his childhood nickname for Dolores. "Uh-Señor-"
"Mariano is fine," Dolores puts in quickly, ignoring the way her uncle doesn't quite meet the younger man's eyes. "Isn't it?"
"Of course," Mariano agrees without hesitation. "Please, Señor Madrigal, my father was Señor Guzman. I am, and always have been, simply Mariano."
Bruno nods in acknowledgment. "In that case, Mariano, Bruno will do just fine. Señor Madrigal was my father."
"Of course," Mariano agrees, relaxing, and Dolores hopes that means he sees the offer for what it is-a welcoming gesture, and one of approval. Whatever anyone else thinks about any potential future relationship between the two of them, they have his support.
"Come on, Antonio," Bruno says, scooping up the child as if he isn't almost too heavy for him. "These old bones can only handle so much pouncing in one day. Lessons can continue later."
"Where are we going?" Antonio wants to know, wriggling in his uncle's arms. For a moment Dolores is certain Tío is going to drop him.
"Inside, so your sister and her guest can talk." Bruno winks at Dolores. "You can help me find Eloise."
"Again?" Antonio asks, distracted. "What did you do this time?"
"Me?" Bruno meets the boy's energy, though it's clear he's not in the least offended by the accusation. "I didn't do anything, other than try to warn her..."
His voice trails off as they make their way back to the house, leaving Dolores and Mariano alone.
"Does this mean your uncle likes me?" Mariano asks, and Dolores can't help but smile, both at the question, and at the hopeful gleam in his eye as he stands there, hands in his pockets, waiting for an answer.
Mariano doesn't miss the raised eyebrow Dolores's father directs toward the two of them as they enter, the last to reach the table for the midday meal, but the man only smiles and greets him as if the last meal they all shared together in this house wasn't a complete disaster.
There's a brief moment where all the adults seem to realize there aren't enough chairs for the entire family and their guest, and the way Dolores's aunt frowns at the realization suggests that this isn't a problem they usually have.
Antonio grins up at him as if unaware of the sudden awkwardness permeating the room. "You can have my seat," he says, scrambling unceremoniously into his uncle's lap. Señor Madrigal-Bruno-settles him almost without conscious thought, and though both of the boy's parents look as if they want to say something, neither of them do.
"I don't bite," the man says, tone mild, when Mariano doesn't immediately claim the now empty chair.
"You bit Eloise," Antonio says, tilting his head back to study his uncle.
"That's different," Señor Bruno says dismissively.
"You bit a rat?" Dolores's tía sounds both horrified and absolutely disgusted at the same time.
"They're clean." There's a slight edge to the man's response. "In fact, she had just had a bath."
"She hates baths," Antonio offers up the explanation cheerfully.
"And I understand that," Señor Bruno concedes, his tone shifting to one of long-suffering. "But she needed a bath. In fact, she came crying to me because she was dirty, just like she always does, even though she knows a bath is the only way to get clean again. Every time she acts surprised, and every time she spends the entire time trying-and usually succeeding, mind you-to bite me, and I got tired of it. So I took her tiny, freshly washed paw, and pretended to bite it. Didn't even hurt, but now she's acting like I've left her maimed for life."
"She says you have big, sharp teeth, Tío Bruno," Antonio informs his uncle solemnly. "Scary, too. She says she'll never be able to shake hands again."
Señor Bruno shakes his head. "She's been in too many telenovelas," he complains. "My fault, I suppose."
Mariano abruptly becomes aware that he's still standing, and slips into the seat beside Antonio and his tío.
Author's Note: I know, I know, it's been a while on this one. It's not abandoned, or forgotten, I promise. I've just been distracted by other stories and have been having a really hard time focusing on this one. I did have this already written, though, so I thought I would go ahead and put it up, and hopefully give you guys something to tide you over. To everyone who's contacted me about this piece, thank you, it means a lot to know that so many people care about this little fic, and hopefully I can get back into the groove with this one soon.
Disclaimer: Disney's Encanto does not belong to me.