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foggyfanfic · 5 months

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Mirabel's Super Secret Adventure

Chapter Preview: “I… didn’t realize that bothered you,” Mirabel said, eventually, “I honestly didn’t realize anything bothered you before today. I thought-, your life seems so-.”

“Perfect?” Isabela cut her off, then shook her head, sighing, “Being perfect is the only thing I can do.”

Prologue Prev Next Masterlist

10. What Else?

Still holding the vision, Mirabel followed them. Tío Bruno was moving slowly, and they didn’t have a lot of time, so she passed them on the stairs and hurried out of the tower. Her parents must have decided to do the same, because they emerged from behind his door by the time she was pushing Isabela’s open.

“Isabela?! You in here?” she called out. The room was dark, and a lot of the flowers were looking a bit wilted.

“Go away.”

Mirabel turned, she could tell her sister’s voice had come from the large garden, but she couldn’t see her.

“Nope, not until I at least get a hug out of you,” Mirabel responded, hoping to lure Isabela into talking again.

It worked, “Don’t you have a miracle to save?”

Mirabel followed the sound of Isabela’s morose hiss, continuing the conversation to make it easier, “Can’t save the miracle if my favorite flower growing princess of a sister is feeling down.”

“Princess?! Ay por favor,” Isabela laughed bitterly, the sound bouncing around the garden and briefly muddling the waters, “pretty sure you actually have to be useful to your people in order to be a princess.”

“Who says you’re not useful?”

“I grow flowers, Mirabel, flowers. I mean, I can’t even grow food! At least, not food that has any flavor, o-or substance,” Isabela huffed, then groaned, “all I can make are ornaments, decoration!”

Mirabel walked around a bush, and suddenly, there Isabela was. Sitting curled up on the ground, scowling at the wilted petals sprinkled in front of her.

Slowly, Mirabel sat next to her. Isabela scowled harder, but didn’t say anything.

“I… didn’t realize that bothered you,” Mirabel said, eventually, “I honestly didn’t realize anything bothered you before today. I thought-, your life seems so-.”

“Perfect?” Isabela cut her off, then shook her head, sighing, “Being perfect is the only thing I can do.”

Mirabel examined her sister’s profile, “That’s not true.”

“Yes it is,” she began ticking things off on her fingers, “I can’t heal people, I can’t water the crops or make sunshine, I can’t move the church wherever it needs to go, I’m not good with children, and I can’t fix the miracle.”

“Neither can I,” Mirabel blurted, then cringed.

Isabela finally looked at her.

Mirabel sighed, then admitted, “The vision Tío Bruno had the night of my gift ceremony was really vague. They weren’t sure what it meant, and they had a bunch of guesses, so apparently they just picked the one they thought would make my life easiest and ran with it.”

“Oh.”

“I-I might not even have magic. Any magic.”

“Oh,” Isabela said again. She stared at Mirabel, lips parted in surprise, then slowly turned to face forward again, eyes looking straight through the wilted garden around her.

Then she laughed.

Mirabel frowned at her, “Oh gee, thanks Isabela, so glad I told you.”

“No, sorry, ay no,” Isabela chuckled a little more, then got it under control, “I just- I have always been so jealous of your gift. You’re exactly what this family needs, the most useful person in the village, and you don’t even have to do anything, just, just… exist! Except, you might not-. Oh. Ay dios, you might not have magic.”

The last of the mirth faded from Isabela’s face and she turned to look at Mirabel, it was Mirabel’s turn to avoid Isabela’s eyes now.

“Mirabel, are… you alright?”

Mirabel gritted her teeth, she took deep breaths, and tried to get over her new found revulsion to the word “fine”, eventually she admitted, “No. No, I’m not. I-I don’t-. If I don’t have magic then…? You think you’re useless? I might not-.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. It didn’t fully work, a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

An arm gently wrapped itself around Mirabel’s shoulders, and Isabela sighed into her hair. Silence stretched out into the garden while Mirabel composed herself, forcing herself to focus on the matter at hand.

“I might not have a gift, b-but I can still be your sister,” Mirabel gave Isabela a watery smile, “Maybe I can’t magically fix the miracle, but I can still be there for you.”

Isabela shook her head, “No, no, don’t worry about me. I-, I didn’t want to marry him remember? A part of me is really happy that everything fell apart. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want to throw a cactus at Tío Bruno. But I also want to hug him for what he did in there.”

Mirabel nodded, “I know the feeling.”

Isabela snorted, “Yeah, I guess you would.”

They sighed in unison, settling into silence for a little longer.

“Speaking of Tío Bruno meddling,” Mirabel said, “he said he thought you were going to marry Mariano because you were trying to force yourself to be something you're not?”

Isabela didn’t respond.

“Was he right?”

There was another long drought of silence, Mirabel waiting patiently, until Isabela shrugged, “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. Being pretty and perfect is what I’m good at, a-and the only way to make that useful is to- to-, use it to get a husband. And continue the Madrigal legacy.”

“It's not the only thing you’re good at,” Mirabel huffed, choosing to let that last part settle for a little, “you’re very good at color coordination.”

Isabela snorted, then gave Mirabel a dry, unamused look.

“Oh! And snooty faces! You’re super good at snooty faces.”

Isabela rolled her eyes.

“And you’re a great acrobat. Oh! You want to make money for the familia, you could join a circus!”

“The circus?!” Isabela growled, turning to give Mirabel the stink eye. At the same time, a cactus popped out of the ground two feet in front of them. They stared at it.

Mirabel wryly noted, “And, if anyone ever attacks the village, you could probably cactus them to death.”

Isabela started to roll her eyes again, then stopped and seemed to actually consider this, “I… probably could.”

She waited for her older sister to shrug it off, or laugh, but Isabela continued to stare at the cactus contemplatively.

“Wait. Please don’t kill people,” Mirabel said.

“I won’t. Probably,” Isabela said, but eyed the cactus, “but I-. What else could I do with plants? Other than decorations and acrobatics I mean.”

Mirabel thought about it for a long time, fingers fiddling absently with the embroidery on her skirt until they plucked out an answer, “Cotton?”

“Cotton,” Isabela breathed, “I can make cotton!”

She suddenly shot to her feet, and all around them, cotton bushes sprung out of the ground. She stared at the cotton, fingers wiggling as if she was drumming them on an invisible table. Then with a flourish, a bunch of plants Mirabel only vaguely recognized burst out in between the cotton.

“Carnivorous,” Isabela shrugged casually, as she started to walk away, “natural pest control for the fields.”

Mirabel stood and followed her, “Great! What else?”

“Oh! These trees make perfect wood for construction, and these ones are great for paper,” Isabela flung her arms left and right, her carefully groomed garden quickly turning into an eclectic forest, filled with plants from both the farmers’ fields and the jungle, “these provide great shade, these deter ants, these are perfect for kids to climb on.”

Mirabel followed Isabela through her room as she listed off all the different uses of all the different plants she was cramming into the garden.She was shocked to discover that Isabela’s smile, her real smile, was actually kind of dorky.

It was better, she thought, then all of the perfect little grins Isabela usually wore.

Eventually, Isabela was just growing plants she liked, plants that weren’t pretty, but were weird and fascinating. Mirabel almost forgot about the cracks, riding to the top of Isabela’s room on a large palm tree. She laughed and threw some of the pigments Isabela had made into the air, not caring as they coated her hands and arms. Isabela spared her a quick smile, standing atop her palm tree tower and reorganizing her new forest so that the plants formed a functioning ecosystem of their own.

Mirabel sat down, then laid back and closed her eyes. She had gone straight from Tío Bruno’s room to Isabela’s without checking the time, but it had to be past midnight by now. And Mirabel hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before.

The air smelled sweet and Isabela was humming a happy tune. Mirabel dozed on and off, feeling oddly certain everything would work out.

Unfortunately, the world butted in, the house shivered again.

“Oh, right,” Mirabel sighed, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes, “that.”

The optimism she found in that drowsy in between faded away, making room for dread and insecurity.

She stood and looked down at Isabela’s forest, beautiful wasn’t quite the right word for it, but it wasn’t the wrong word either. Mirabel felt a pang in her chest, thinking about the miracle falling to pieces right when Isabela had finished all of this.

“If you can’t heal the miracle…?” Isabela started to ask.

“It-, Tío Bruno says the miracle responds to our emotional state and I-. Everything I’ve seen since I found out about the cracks makes me think he’s right,” Mirabel frowned down at the forest, “the cracks are happening because something’s wrong. S-somebody in our family is really hurting, or, I don’t know, the family isn’t-. Something’s wrong. And there isn’t some magical solution to whatever it is. B-but for some reason, Tío Bruno’s vision says I might be able to fix it.”

“That’s good though, isn’t it?”

“Might, Isabela, I might be able to fix it,” Mirabel shook her head, “it’s not certain, a-and we’re not sure what I even need to do. I’m not sure-. I don’t have a gift! What can I do?”

The house shivered again and Mirabel sighed, pushing her glasses out of the way so she could pinch the bridge of her nose. Isabela placed a hand on her shoulder, looking at her with open concern, but didn’t say anything. To a certain extent, Mirabel was glad for the silent support.

To a much larger extent, she wished somebody could just tell her what she was supposed to do next.

She shook it off as best as she could. When this was over she was going to scream, cry, and rage into her pillow. She wanted to yell at Tío Bruno and Tía Leandra for essentially lying to her, but she also understood why they did what they did. It was for the same reason they had Octavia play down her talents, the same reason Tío Bruno’s back was messed up, the same reason Luisa never took a day off. If people knew the truth, there was no telling how she’d have been treated.

Having a magic spare tire was great, maybe not very exciting, but her being the miracle’s back up plan reassured the villagers that no matter what, everything would be ok. Having a kid who, for some unknown reason, just didn’t get a gift?

There would have been questions, doubts, fear, and she would have been the target of all of it.

But Tío Bruno and Tía Leandra had lied, they had picked their most palatable theory and spread it as proven fact. So there were no questions, no doubts, no fear, and the only thing she was the target of was some mollycoddling.

She was angry at them for what they did, mostly because of how well it worked. Mirabel couldn’t even tell them they ruined her life, or something equally dramatic, because they hadn’t.

And now she had to rethink everything she thought she knew about her place in the family. Not to mention figure out how to fix the miracle without magic.

Looking up at Isabela, she forced herself to focus on the problem at hand. Apparently, Isabela knew what it was like to feel useless, and Mirabel knew her parents would be there to help her. And even through her anger, she felt more sure than ever her Tío and Tía would always come through for her. There would be plenty of time to have an identity crisis, later.

Right now, she was left with the same question as before, what problem could have grown so large that the love shared between their family couldn’t heal it?

“Is there anything else bothering you?” Mirabel asked, “Something that, I don’t know, might make you feel seperated from the family?”

Isabela glanced guiltily away, but didn’t answer.

She turned towards her more fully, “Isa por favor, whatever it is, I will love you. We will all love you. I- even if we can’t fix it for you, you won’t lose us. Please, just, just… let me try to help.”

“I like women.”

Mirabel raised an eyebrow, then lowered it, face scrunching in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“I-I mean, I like women,” Isabela shrugged, “I might like men too, maybe. I-I don’t know, I’ve never met a guy that makes me feel…”

When she trailed off, Mirabel examined her, then things clicked together, “Oh! Like Tío Bruno. Ok, great, so what’s the problem?”

“That’s it.”

“Oh. Right… Really?”

Isabela stared at her, then shrugged, “I- you-. I guess I just worry about how I’m going to, you know, secure the familia’s future if I can’t find a man I want to marry.”

“You mean have kids?”

“Sí.”

“Oh,” Mirabel frowned, “Why not just adopt like Tío Bruno and Tía Leandra.”

For a while, Isabela struggled to put her reasons into words, she kept starting with things like “Well, it’s ok when they do it, but-“ then stopping and switching tracks to something like “I’m the eldest, people expect me to-“ before going back to “Tío Bruno is weird, he gets to do whatever he wants, but I’m-“. She chased herself around and around in verbal circles, before she just huffed and said, “You wouldn’t get it.”

“What I’m getting is that you don’t have a good reason.”

“I do too!”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Mirabel crossed her arms, smiling smugly.

“I’m supposed to be perfect,” Isabela snapped, “perfect people don’t-. They aren’t-.”

“Like you?” Mirabel asked, “Guess you’ll just have to admit you’re one of us peasants then.”

Isabela huffed and threw some pigment at her. Mirabel gasped as she was covered in blue dust, then she sneezed. The blue must have been from some sort of high pollen flower, it was activating her allergies.

“Oh, meircoles, should have used the red,” Isabela cringed, as Mirabel sneezed again, then a third time.

“You think,” Mirabel groused, then sneezed again.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned off.”

The tree lowered itself so Isabela could rush Mirabel over to the bathroom. She could hardly see thanks to both the pigment covering her glasses, and the sneezing. While Mirabel was taking the world’s quickest shower, then washing off her glasses, Isabela ran and grabbed her some non-pollened clothes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, as Mirabel emerged in a fresh blouse and skirt. She was relieved to see that Isabela had grabbed a set of clothes that were just as covered in embroidery as the ones she’d been wearing before.

“Good,” she huffed, “you should be.”

She lightly pushed Isabela’s shoulder, then cracked a smile to show there was no harm done. Isabela huffed and gave her a tense smile of her own.

Then Mirabel turned and saw Casita in the fresh light of a new day. Every wall was riddled with cracks and the once smooth tiled floor now jutted every which way along jagged fault lines.

Mirabel felt the air leave her in a sharp hiss.

“How-?” she shook her head, “Doesn’t matter, soo… so uh I-I don’t think your problems were uh, you know, the problem.”

“Yay?” Isabela wrinkled her nose, looking around at their crumbling house.

“Ok, ok, who else? Who else?” Mirabel paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door, “Can you check on Camilo? I don’t think-, but I mean-. I’ll go see if Pá has made any progress with Luisa-. Oh, and if you see Dolores, tell her you don’t want to marry Mariano. That should help.”

“Right, on it,” Isabela nodded, eyes still glued to all of the cracks, she looked at Mirabel, then quickly swept her into a hug.

Over Isabela’s shoulder, Mirabel saw the candle briefly burn brighter. Just more confirmation that the solution here was love, and whatever was causing this…

She tried to banish the thought. She couldn’t let her worry cripple her, she had to keep going.

Mirabel found her Pá helping Luisa gather firewood, and from what Mirabel could hear, she was admitting that she may have been pushing it for a while. But the cracks weren’t going away. By the time she found her Má, both Isabela and Camilo were with her, helping her package up the dry goods in the kitchen while Dolores and Mariano filled up canteens with water. Isabela flashed her a thumbs up, but the cracks continued to spread. Tía Leandra and Gabriel were packing up blankets and sleeping bags, Gabriel’s eyes were red rimmed and he was promising to be more open with his mother. The cracks remained stubbornly in place.

Finally, Mirabel went out back where Tío Félix and Tía Pepa were gathering everything by the tents. There the rising sun was shining while Tío Bruno teased Tía Pepa about stifling her emotions. She was trying to scowl, but the beautiful sunrise and occasional chuckle gave her away.

Tío Bruno saw Mirabel, glanced at Pepa, then at Casita. Clearly able to see the cracks were still there, he shrugged.

Mirabel sighed through gritted teeth. If everybody was making progress, then why weren’t the cracks going away?

What else was there?

#Mirabel Madrigal #Isabela Madrigal #Lesbian Isabela #Encanto #Encanto AU #If I've done this right a few people just answered Mirabel's question out loud

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foggyfanfic · 2 months

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Dinner with the Family

Oneshot Summary: Future fic! It's Isabela's wedding anniversary and she has requested the entire Madrigal clan come together for a single meal in the stead of a party. Bruno begins to suspect something might be up when Bubo requests they sit next to each other. Or, the dinner where Bubo and Isabela come out to the family.

Preview: "The door opened again and Isabela stepped out, wearing her most stylish indigo jumpsuit and a few pink flowers in her hair that Bruno was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to make. She turned, holding her hand out, and waited."

Bruno hummed happily on his way into town, despite the ache in his knees and the stiffness in his back. He had been having a good day, and was reasonably sure it was only going to get better. After all, Juli (and whoever volunteered to help her) were cooking a special dinner for Isabela’s and Bubo’s anniversary. The couple of honor had requested Bruno invite his boyfriend, Heraldo, which left said boyfriend in a rather good mood for the past two weeks. And Bruno had it on good authority (Antonio) that his youngest rat was getting past her cold. So yes, today was a good day and would only continue to get better.

That wasn’t a prophecy, but he felt pretty certain of it anyway.

He reached Heraldo’s bookshop and cut his humming short before walking through the open door, in case anyone was trying to read. Thankfully, the shop was empty with the exception of Heraldo’s grandchildren, sitting behind the counter doing their homework.

“Hola Tío,” fourteen year old Flora greeted him with a distracted smile.

“Abuelooooooo,” eleven year old Fabian shouted, almost directly into his sister’s ear, she glared at him but he pretended not to notice, “your boyfriend’s here!”

Bruno quietly flinched, but didn’t shush the boy. It probably wasn’t a great idea to announce to the whole village that he and Heraldo were dating. Encanto was a paradise and people were much more accepting of him than they used to be, but still. Bubo had gotten chased out of the city when the wrong person found out a little too much about Bubo’s “private life”. Eventually, Bruno knew, people like them would be safe to live their lives out in the open, but not yet. The battle for their right to love openly had only just started in the more liberal cities. They were decades out from victory.

All that said, they were alone in the shop, and Bruno liked hearing that title be announced with so little fanfare.

The sound of Heraldo’s slow steps made it down the stairs long before he did. Like Bruno, he was in his seventies, and his joints didn’t always cooperate with him. Bruno leaned his weight on his cane, happy to wait as long as Heraldo needed.

Once upon a time, Heraldo had been a train conductor. He had taken a job as a station manager when he and his beard/best friend decided they wanted kids, then went back to conducting once those kids were grown. His “wife” had passed shortly after their youngest son was married, said youngest son had gone to the United States for work and sent Heraldo all the money the kids would ever need. Heraldo had retired so he could care for the two kids in his son’s absence. When Bruno had asked about their mother, Heraldo had smiled sadly, shrugged, and said “She’s a good woman, but life isn’t always kind out there”.

Bruno had no idea what that meant, other than, “Don’t ask.”

He emerged from the stairwell in his muted green suit. Something he usually reserved for church. His white beard was trimmed neatly, and he had his nice glasses on instead of the crooked bifocals that were usually perched high on the wide bridge of his nose.

Heraldo had once been a tall man, but the years on the go had caught up with him, hunching his shoulders and compressing his spine. In quiet moments before bed, Heraldo had confided in Bruno how it was actually a bit of a relief to be shorter now, he had talked at length about what it was like to be a large grumpy black man out there in the world beyond their paradise. He had spoken of years spent being feared, and loathed, and ostracized. And he had gotten a little choked up when he spoke about how different things were now that he was a hobbling Abuelo with two kids hanging off him, how he had almost thanked a woman the first time a stranger turned to him for safety rather than edging away from him in fear.

In turn, Bruno had spoken at length about what it was like to be The Bruno Madrigal, versus his new life as goofy Tío Bruno.

“Oh, you don’t have to get all dressed up for this,” Bruno immediately said, “i-it’s just a family dinner!”

“Exactly,” Heraldo gruffed, crossing the shop floor as quickly as his bad hip would allow, “this is a family affair, want to show how grateful I am to be included.”

They both glanced at the open door and shop window before clasping hands and briefly pressing their lips together. Fabian made an exaggerated retching sound, and was promptly smacked by his sister.

“Abuelo! Tío! Flora hit me,” Fabian cried in a nasally voice, and didn’t even bother trying to hide the smarmy grin he sent his sister.

“Because you’re being obnoxious!”

“Flora, use your words, not your fists,” Heraldo snapped, “Fabian, she’s right, you are being obnoxious.”

Fabian pouted, first at Heraldo, then when that got him nowhere, at Bruno. Bruno grimaced, but couldn’t help himself.

“Are you alright mijo?” he asked, he didn’t need his gift to foresee that Heraldo would tease him for being such a softy.

“No,” Fabian announced, sighing dramatically, “I can’t feel my legs.”

“I hit you in the shoulder.”

“Yeah, but really, really, reeeeeally hard.”

“Would uh, would a hug help you feel better?” Bruno asked, already knowing Fabian would accept just to keep the act going, but not sure how else to respond.

Fabian sniffed, pointing his nose in the air, “It would.”

“Alright then,” Bruno hobbled a few steps towards the counter, but didn’t have to go far. Fabian may have enjoyed annoying his sister, but he was still raised with manners. He ran out from behind the counter before Bruno had taken five steps.

Bruno hugged him, glanced at Heraldo, and could already hear his boyfriend telling him he played right into the kid’s hands. He shrugged sheepishly. Heraldo shook his head.

“Gracias Tío,” Fabian said, letting Bruno go, “I think I might survive through the night now.”

“Oh good, I’m glad,” Bruno patted his shoulder.

At the counter, Flora watched with a thoroughly unamused look on her face. She took after her abuelo in many ways, but most especially in attitude. All the same, she rose to the bait and asked Bruno for a hug as well. He accepted, not wanting to show favorites and she stared pointedly at her brother while she wrapped Bruno in her arms. Said brother loudly bemoaned Bruno’s apparent betrayal.

They lingered a while longer, so Bruno could ask the kids about their homework, and how their week had been since he last saw them on Wednesday. When Heraldo dragged him away, Bruno was doing his best to stutter his way out of judging which kid had doodled the better rat within thirty seconds.

“You know, those two make a game of trying to be your ‘favorite’, right? Still not convinced you ain’t dating me just for them,” Heraldo teased, when they were finally walking towards Casita, Heraldo carrying a wrapped present for the couple of honor.

“O-oh come on, it isn’t like I don’t already have plenty of kids at home,” Bruno argued.

“Hm, exactly, you’re an addict,” Heraldo said, anyone who didn’t know him well would call it grumbling, “can’t go five minutes without kissing a bruised knee.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Bruno rolled his eyes, “I bet once we get there it’ll take less than fifteen minutes before you got a kid in your lap.”

“Slander,” Heraldo grunted.

“Oh?” Bruno eyed him slyly, “If that’s so, then take the bet.”

Heraldo didn’t say anything. Bruno chuckled.

When they reached Casita, his Má was sitting out front in her wicker wheelchair, enjoying the sunshine as Victor practiced on the violin next to her. Despite her limited mobility she was doing remarkably well for a woman who was coming up on triple digits; actually, the doctors were beginning to suspect that being around so many healers might have a few side effects. As a matter of fact, as Victor’s violin strings glowed, Bruno could almost see the cataracts in his Má’s left eye clear up a little.

“Heraldo,” Má greeted him warmly, “how kind of you to join us.”

“Not at all, Señora, just honored to be invited,” Heraldo replied, ducking his head politely.

“You didn’t bring the grandchildren?”

“Ah, no, not this time. Flora is too caught up in her studies, and Fabian is too caught up in distracting her.”

“Ah, sí, next time then,” Má nodded, “you’ve met my eldest great grandchild, Victor, by now, sí?”

Victor was Dolores’ first child, and at nineteen was the eldest in his generation of Madrigals. He was actually the first of the great grandchildren Heraldo had met, but that was years ago, and they seldom interacted since. Not for any particular reason, they just didn’t have much in common.

“I have, good to see you again mijo,” Heraldo said, making an effort to sound a bit less like he was growling than usual.

“And you señor.”

“Think I’ve met the whole collection by now,” Heraldo said, glancing at Bruno for confirmation.

“Um,” Bruno thought about it, there were a lot of Madrigals to keep track of these days, he sort of wished he’d bothered to make a checklist, “have you met all three of Mirabel’s sons?”

“Sí, and Luisa’s twins, and her newest one a few times.”

“What about Camilo’s new son?” Alma asked.

“Ah sí, unless he’s actually had twins too,” Heraldo quirked a smile, “I’ve only met one baby, but you lot tend to have them in bundles.”

“Hm, we do seem to have a lot of twins and triplets in the family, don’t we.”

“Some research supports that it’s genetic,” Victor interjected, as he switched to plucking, “there was this survey done of birth records that found-. Oops.”

The violin strings stopped glowing once the discordant note interrupted the melody. Victor flinched, cheeks red.

“It’s alright mijo, you’re doing very well, try it again,” Má gently patted his shoulder.

He nodded, taking a deep breath to calm his embarrassment as he put the bow back on the strings and took the song from the top. Victor loved playing, and he loved the thought of being a town healer like his Tía Julieta, but he had terrible stage fright. He wasn’t technically out here to practice playing, he was out here to practice playing where people could hear him.

Bruno quietly ushered Heraldo inside, gently touching his mother’s hand as they passed. She smiled up at him, briefly, then continued to watch Victor play.

Predictably, Casita’s courtyard was filled with kids, many of whom paused whatever games they were playing to greet Bruno and Heraldo. As soon as the two men had sat down to wait for dinner, Antonio’s eldest had crawled into Heraldo’s lap. Bruno grinned at him, while Heraldo pretended not to notice. The little girl made it easy on him, she happily distracted him with all the new things she’d figured out how to turn her hair into.

Bruno felt a tug on his pant leg, he looked down and found one of Luisa’s twins hiding behind the couch by his leg. All three of Luisa’s kids tended towards being shy, and weren’t sure how to handle Heraldo’s gruff attention, so Bruno wasn’t surprised that the little boy handed him a little clay bowl he had made then immediately ran away. As soon as Bruno looked up, he was met by one of Mirabel’s triplets. Specifically, the one named after him.

“Sí?” seventy-two year old Bruno asked.

“Má wants to know if my kitten can play in one of your mazes,” nine year old Bruno said.

“Oh, Mirabel wants to know that, does she?”

“Sí, she told me to ask you,” he nodded, then pulled the little black kitten out from under his ruana, “I promise she won’t break anything!”

Bruno pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at the idea that the tiny, squeaking, fuzzy potato in his grand-nephew’s hand was capable of breaking anything. Black cats may be bad luck, but there was only so much damage a fur ball that small could dole out. He schooled his features into a contemplative look, even tapping his chin a few times as he made a long, drawn out “Hmmmmm” sound.

“Por favor Tío!”

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “she can play in the maze if you try one new food at dinner.”

“I can do that,” he agreed, nodding eagerly.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise!”

They shook pinkies, then nine year old Bruno ran off, yelling to nine year old Agustín and nine year old Félix, “Tío Bruno said my cat can play in the maze but your guys’ can’t!”

“Que? That’s not what I said,” he squawked, “I said your kitten can play in the maze if you try one new thing at dinner.”

“Ours too?” little Félix asked.

“Sure. If you each try something new.”

“No fair, I’ve tried everything,” little Agustín shouted. He was the most adventurous of the three, and probably right, he may very well have tried everything Julieta knew how to cook.

“Ah, that’s r-right,” Bruno paused, actually having to think about it this time, “umm…”

“What if he does something nice for his Má,” Heraldo suggested quietly.

“Oh! That’s good,” Bruno nodded, “your kitten can play in the maze if you go out and find a flower to match your Má’s dress.”

“I can do that,” he chirped, then used a great burst of wind to launch himself over Casita’s walls. Faintly, Bruno heard a few screams from where he would have landed. He exchanged a sheepish look with Heraldo, they probably should have known he would do that.

Thankfully, before anyone could come wagging fingers, Camilo walked downstairs with a kid hanging off his back, and his baby in the crook of his arm. He clapped his free hand against his thigh to get all of the children’s attention.

“Alright, time to start washing up for dinner,” he called, “let’s go, four at a time. Any volunteers?”

Nobody raised their hand.

He sighed, then started pointing at random kids, “You, you, you, and you! Into the bathroom.”

“Aaaaw, but I-.”

“No buts! It’s a special occasion, and anyone who makes me wait any longer than I have to, to have dinner is getting stuck with all the dishes,” Camilo said, the children took this threat seriously, running past him to wash their hands. Satisfied, Camilo turned to follow them, and Bruno had a startling realization.

“Camilo, that boy doesn’t live here.”

Camilo glanced over his shoulder at the kid on his back, “Do you live here?”

“No.”

“Are your parents looking for you?”

“Probably not, they both have to work late.”

“You want to stay for dinner?”

“Yes please. My abuela burns everything.”

“Alright, what’s one more kid,” that said, Camilo continued with his quest to get all the kids washed up by dinner time.

“Huh,” Heraldo said, and when Bruno looked at him, he was eyeing Bruno with an almost smile.

“What?”

“Just impressed you can keep these kids straight,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh,” Bruno chuckled a little sheepishly, “h-honestly, I’m pretty impressed with myself about that too.”

“Well, you should be,” Heraldo all but snapped, “pretty sure there are rabbits with fewer kids to keep track of.”

“To be fair, the rabbits are just one set of parents, and none of the baby rabbits have the ability to turn their hair into fire.”

As he said this, he gestured at the little girl sitting in Heraldo’s lap, and she happily obliged by setting her head ablaze. She grinned up at them and there was an empty space where she’d just lost a baby tooth. Heraldo stared at her as wide eyed as he ever got until she turned her hair into long shining grass instead, she’d been experimenting with weaving it into baskets lately.

Point made, Bruno shrugged, “I-it helps that all the kids can be broken down into groups based on who their parents are. Isabela has one; Dolores, and Antonio both have two; Mirabel, Camilo, and Luisa, all have three. Oh, and! A-and if you think about it, that’s only fourteen kids to keep track of.”

“Fourteen for now,” Heraldo said, “Your nieces are still young enough that-.”

Bruno accidentally cut Heraldo off by knocking on the wooden beam next to their couch. He certainly wouldn’t mind another niece or nephew, but pregnancy didn’t come without risk.

Camilo returned with the first four children and sent them off to the kitchen to see if they could help set the table, then rounded up the remaining three, including the little girl sitting in Heraldo’s lap. As soon as they were gone, a door opened upstairs and a blur passed around the courtyard, pinning up a simple banner as it went. The blur quite suddenly turned into Isabela’s son, Ferdinand, who stood in the middle of the courtyard, inspecting his work with a critical eye.

“On second thought, make that sixteen kids, that one counts as three,” Bruno murmured to Heraldo out of the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t that Ferdinand was a mischievous child, on the contrary, he strived to be as helpful as his cousin Victor. However, even the most helpful of children were a bit much to handle when they could run as fast as a bullet.

Fortunately, Ferdinand, the second oldest great grandchild, was getting close to adulthood, so if they’d managed to keep him alive this long, they were probably good.

“I bet,” Heraldo huffed, most people thought his huffs were a sound of irritation, but Bruno knew they were actually his laugh.

Ferdinand suddenly went from standing in the middle of the courtyard to standing right next to Bruno, “Tío Bruno, do you-, hola Tío Heraldo, do you think the colors work?”

“Buenas tardes,” Heraldo replied, “how did the relay race go?”

“Not bad, don’t think they actually needed my help refereeing though,” Ferdinand shifted his weight and put his hands on his hips. He didn’t like when he got invited places just because he was a Madrigal; unfortunately for him, he was the most social of his generation, and thus the most popular among the villagers. Lately, people had been inviting him places with a really thin excuse for why he was needed.

While they spoke, Bruno eyed the banner, it was midnight blue with red and gold bows wherever the banner was pinned, “Sí, I think your mothers will like it.”

Ferdinand looked briefly startled, and his head whipped around, checking for listeners. When he saw none, he relaxed, and smiled.

“I hope so,” he said, “they’ve been kinda on edge about something recently, I really want them to have a good anniversary.”

“We all do,” Bruno reassured him.

Ferdinand opened his mouth to say something else, when Agusíto came running back in with a flower grasped in his muddy hands. He held it up proudly for Bruno to see as he raced past, then gathered the wind around him and launched himself onto the second story. He knocked on his parents door and was let in almost instantly.

After a beat, Ferdinand tried again, only to be cut off when Casita opened the front door so Victor and Adelaide, Camilo’s wife, could help Alma wheel herself in.

Giving Ferdinand a sympathetic smile, Bruno planted his cane and used it to leverage himself up, greeting Adelaide with a brief hug, “Hola, how’s the food drive going?”

Adelaide and Camilo had recently established what they were referring to as The Shelter, for lack of a better word. Encanto was getting pretty big, and it was no longer possible for one person to keep track of who needed what, so Mirabel had put together a committee to take care of it. That committee happened to need someplace to operate, and somebody to lead it since Mirabel didn’t have the time. Fortunately, Adelaide was a clerical whiz; combine her skills using a filing cabinet, with Camilo’s people skills, and they had gotten everything sorted within a year.

Currently, The Shelter was putting on a food drive for the families that were struggling to make ends meet this year. Camilo was handling the PR side of getting donations, while Adelaide had had her hands full figuring out how much food was needed and taking inventory of what was available.

Camilo’s eldest, Pepa (or Pepita to avoid confusion) followed her mother in shortly after, holding a bag full of her mother’s paperwork.

“We are quickly approaching our goal,” Adelaide said in her quiet, not quite monotone.

“Ah, bien, that’s great. Proud of you,” he enthused, and she quirked the corner of her lips up at him. She did not have a great relationship with her father, and had asked Bruno to walk her down the aisle, so he was going to operate under the assumption that it was his job to fulfill a fatherly role until somebody corrected him.

So far, in the nine years she’d been married to Camilo, nobody had.

“Go on, go be helpful,” Camilo’s voice drew her attention to the stairs just in time for the three children Camilo had rounded up to avalanche their way down the stairs and to the kitchen.

Adelaide gave Bruno another tiny smile, then sped walked to greet her husband, who grinned broadly when he saw her.

“Ah! Addy! Look, I got us another kid,” he joked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the boy who was still clinging to his back.

“Where?”

“Hey kid, where’d I pick you up?”

“The rec center,” he said.

“I got him at the rec center.”

“So that’s where babies come from,” she mused under her breath, “huh.”

Camilo laughed at her joke, then pressed a kiss to her cheek. The boy clinging to his back wrinkled his nose and let go, dropping to the ground and trotting towards the kitchen. Bruno idly wondered how long it would take Julieta to notice he wasn’t a Madrigal.

“Here mija,” Camilo was saying, taking Adelaide’s bag off Pepita's hands, “I’ll take this up to your Má’s desk, you wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Gracias Pá,” she happily handed the bag over, she wasn't big enough to help with Alma’s wheelchair, and even the bag was a bit too heavy for her. She pulled the shawl off her back, exposing her iridescent wings, and flew up to the second story.

Meanwhile, Victor had helped Alma get to her room, which was now on the first story, for the obvious reasons. She thanked him and sent him off to stow his violin and wash his hands.

Finally, Adelaide and Camilo strolled to their room, talking about the food drive.

Once everybody was gone, Bruno turned back to Ferdinand, “You were saying, mijo?”

He glanced around, then started to say, “I think my Má might-.”

He didn’t even look surprised when Mariano entered from the kitchen with his and Dolores’ daughter, Helena. They were each carrying a basket, and quickly headed out back. Ferdinand just rolled his eyes and mumbled “You’ll see,” before racing up to the open bathroom.

Bruno watched him go with a sympathetic grimace, it was increasingly harder to get a quiet moment for a private conversation in the Madrigal household.

Heraldo groaned as he also got up, “I take it dinner with the whole family is not a calm affair.”

Usually, they did dinner in shifts, mostly because it was impossible to accommodate the differing schedules of all thirty three Madrigals (plus Luisa’s mother in law who had moved in so her son could care for her in her old age) in a single sitting. Isabela and Bubo had requested a real family dinner in the stead of a party, however, so they had all jostled their schedules around to make it work.

“Ay, no. Not at all,” Bruno sighed, glancing at his Má’s door to be sure it was shut, he picked up Heraldo’s hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, “thank you for uh, you know, agreeing to sit through the chaos.”

Heraldo let out another one of those huffy laughs of his, shrugging, “Well, the alternative was a peaceful dinner with two of my three favorite people, so of course-. Oh, wait, I may have made a mistake.”

Bruno chuckled, “Come on, b-bright side, all the best cooks are in the kitchen tonight.”

“That’s quite the bright side,” Heraldo agreed, following Bruno into the dining room where the food was being staged.

Agustín, the seventy-one year old Agustín, was already in there, keeping the kids too young to help in the kitchen out of Julieta’s hair. He immediately enlisted Bruno and Heraldo into this endeavor.

Meanwhile, Ferdinand zipped into the kitchen, then the dining room. Racing around the small children, he began trying out different place settings and seating arrangements to see if they could even fit everybody in the dining room. The last time they’d all eaten together, Camilo’s youngest hadn’t been born, Luisa’s mother in law was still able to live on her own, and Heraldo hadn't joined them. Nor had the kid Camilo brought home.

Eventually, he sighed and raced out. A few minutes later he came back with Luisa, who picked up the dining room table (food and all) and moved it out to Casita’s courtyard. Ferdinand began racing the chairs out as well.

“Gracias Tía Luisa,” he said, pausing long enough to bump amicably against her.

“Don’t mention it,” she waved him off, “I’ll try and find another table.”

He nodded once, then continued moving the chairs. Bruno extracted himself from the pile of small children listening to Heraldo explain how to play The Train Game. He popped his head into the kitchen, which was pure chaos.

“Uh Juli,” he called above the cacophony of preparations, “looks like dinner will be in the courtyard.”

He couldn’t even find her in the mass of little workers plating the food, rustling up the appropriate utensils, and washing the dishes, but her voice cut through it all, “I sort of figured as much. Thanks for letting me know.”

“No problem,” he said, since he wasn’t sure she would see it if he acknowledged her words with a nod. He returned to the dining room and took up his designated role as the station of the Port of Panama in the game.

When everything was ready, Bruno found himself sitting between Heraldo and Bubo’s empty place setting at the main table. He had raised an eyebrow at that arrangement, since he usually sat next to Mirabel, Antonio, Adelaide, one of the kids, or his sisters, but Ferdinand had said something about Bubo requesting it.

Luisa had found another table and after some debate they had made a T shape with the tables instead of placing them parallel to each other.

Mirabel came down the stairs, talking about something or other with Dolores; her husband, Juan, followed just behind her with their, now clean, sons. Bruno did not get Juan. Or rather, he did not get why Mirabel had started dating Juan. Don’t get him wrong, Juan had turned out to be a devoted husband, loving father, and a dutiful family accountant, but he wasn’t exactly what Bruno would have pictured for his niece. Mainly, he wasn’t creative. At all.

Seriously, the guy couldn’t do a paint by numbers without a user manual at hand. Great with a budget, sure. Absolutely hopeless with a crayon.

But, Mirabel and Juan would be celebrating their eleventh anniversary next, so it was a bit late for Bruno to ask what the deal was. Besides, he liked the way Juan treated Mirabel, so it’s not like he opposed the match. He just… didn’t get it. Eleven years in and he still couldn’t wrap his head around them.

“-if we want to be ready in time, we should start shopping now,” Mirabel was saying, brow furrowed, “and honestly, we should probably put together a checklist to make sure nobody gets skipped this year.”

Bruno knew instantly what they were talking about. Christmas. The year before, thanks to a misunderstanding, little two year old Pedro hadn’t gotten a gift. Fortunately, little two year old Pedro was two, so they had thrown some of his favorite candy in a bag and acted really excited when he’d opened it.

“I can take care of that,” Juan said, pulling Mirabel’s chair out for her.

“Could you?” Mirabel asked, looking over her shoulder at him as she sat down, “I don’t want to put too much on your plate.”

“I’d have to do it anyway, to budget for it,” he reasoned, pushing her chair in for her, their sons took the next three seats, then Juan sat down next to where Adelaide would soon sit.

Juan and Adelaide had been good friends long before either of them joined the Madrigal family. Bruno had once walked in on Adelaide confessing she liked Juan better than her actual sister, Juan had replied he liked himself better than Adelaide’s older sister too. Bruno was pretty sure the only person in the family that liked Adelaide’s sister was Adelaide, and that was only if you stretched the meaning of the word “like”. Jaun had an older sister that most people liked plenty, and she had apparently put up with Adelaide’s sister for years just so she would bring Adelaide over for Juan to play with.

Ultimately, Bruno did actually like Juan, the guy was good to the people they both loved. And he kind of got why Mirabel married Juan once they’d been dating for a while. He just didn’t get why she started dating him at all.

“Tío Bruno,” Mirabel interrupted his musings, “can you help Juan make a checklist for Christmas? You’re really good at making sure all the kids are accounted for.”

Hushed but excited chatter spread around the tables.

“O-oh, uh, sure,” Bruno glanced at Juan.

“I’d appreciate it,” Juan said.

Mariano returned with his and Dolores’ daughter, followed by Camilo, Adelaide, and their baby. Luisa’s husband helped his mother down the stairs while Pepa and Félix waited at the top, clearly trying not to look like they were waiting for the stairs to be clear. Agustín got the last of his grandchildren settled, while Julieta set down the last pitcher of water. Alma wheeled herself to the table, and surreptitiously accepted a tiny clay bowl that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Antonio led his small pack of jaguars out back to their food, then returned and sat next to the boy who Camilo had acquired from the rec center.

The only two people left to show were Isabela and Bubo themselves.

Ferdinand disappeared in a blur and reappeared at his mothers’ door. He knocked, it opened a crack, whispered words were exchanged, then he turned and calmly walked down the stairs.

Bruno exchanged a startled glance with Mirabel.

Ferdinand did not walk, not if he didn’t have to.

The children were still chattering happily, but now all of the adults were aware that something was up. Tension slowly built as they waited for the couple of honor to appear.

The door opened again and Isabela stepped out, wearing her most stylish indigo jumpsuit and a few pink flowers in her hair that Bruno was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to make. She turned, holding her hand out, and waited.

Under the table, Bruno gripped Heraldo’s hand like a lifeline. His eyes kept shooting from Isabela to his Má and back again.

A graceful hand with painted nails placed itself in Isabela’s, then Bubo stepped out of their room, face almost as pale as the silver earrings she (was it “she” now? Last Bruno had asked, Bubo hadn’t wanted anyone else to know so it was still “he”, but now it looked like Bubo didn’t want to hide it, so it must be “she”) wore. Despite her obvious nerves, she kept her back straight and her steps even.

With high heels on she was the same height as Isabela.

Heraldo’s hand tightened on Bruno’s, Julieta gasped, Félix took a deep breath and tried to look casual. Dolores sat poised, eyeing the rest of the table as if waiting for anyone to say anything. Camilo and Mirabel made brief eye contact, then Camilo got up and fetched another bottle of wine. He placed it in front of Bubo and Isabela’s plates.

The kids old enough to understand something significant was happening eyed their parents for guidance. Victor looked at Ferdinand and Ferdinand stared back, jaw clenched and eyes stony.

“Bubo,” Alma said when the couple walked past her.

They stopped walking and Bruno stopped breathing.

“S-sí?”

“That is a lovely dress.”

It was all Bruno could do not to collapse back into his chair. More than a few people breathed sighs of relief, and Heraldo loosened his death grip.

Bubo took a second to respond, she looked like she was holding back tears, “Gracias Senora.”

“Oh honestly,” Alma huffed, “how many times have I told you to call me Abuela? Where are your manners? Call people by the name they introduce themselves as.”

There was a pause, an expectant expression on Alma’s face, an opportunity for Bubo to give herself a new name. Bubo nodded, but didn’t say anything, pressing her pink painted lips together in a watery smile. As she and Isabela walked to their places next to Bruno, everybody tactfully ignored the flowers overtaking Casita’s roof.

Mirabel watched the couple closely, still as a predator waiting for the right moment. When Isabela gave her a pleading look, Mirabel pounced on everybody’s attention and started passing food around the table.

Bubo sat down with a shaky breath.

“You alright?” Bruno asked, in a whisper.

“Very,” Bubo said, voice a bit choked.

He smiled quietly and patted her arm, then turned away to give the couple the illusion of privacy.

“I’m so proud of you,” Isabela whispered.

“Mí amor, please, I-I’m trying very hard not to cry,” Bubo hissed back.

“Right, sí, sorry,” Isabela sounded a bit amused. Somewhat pointedly, she started asking Ferdinand about whether he had decided to take English or French for his foreign language credit in his final year.

Everybody politely ignored Bubo until her breaths had evened out and she could ask to be passed the avocado without her voice shaking. And even then, nobody pounced on the elephant in the room until Mariano stumbled into it with his usual good intentions.

“Oh, Bubo, can you pass the-. Is it still Bubo?” he paused, thinking too hard to notice the nervous looks shooting around the table, “Buba? Can you pass the tortillas?”

“B-Barbara,” Isabela corrected, checking her wife’s face for permission, “when we’re at home she prefers to go by Barbara.”

“Ah, got it,” Mariano nodded, “Barbara, could you pass the tortillas, por favor?”

Barbara did so, smiling breathlessly, “Of course.”

“Question,” Camilo announced, and both Mirabel and Dolores side-eyed him.

“Sí?” Barbara responded, looking not quite nervous but not quite relaxed.

“Are nicknames alright?” he asked, “Can I call you Barb?”

“Oh,” she blinked, then nodded, “uh yeah, that’d be fine. Barb is fine.”

“Barb it is,” Camilo nodded once, then was promptly distracted by his baby boy throwing a handful of Camilo’s rice at Félix, “ay, sorry Pá.”

“It happens,” Félix brushed the rice, and the apology off. Lord knows he’d seen a fair amount of thrown food in his day.

“Should I be calling you Tía?” Victor asked, sitting between Dolores and his little sister.

“Only when we’re at home,” Ferdinand said, then looked at his mothers, “sí?”

“Sí,” Barbara agreed, “I-I’m not ready to be out to the entire village.”

“Ah, understandable,” Alma nodded, “I would like to think we don’t have any of the wrong sort in our village, but it is better safe than sorry.”

“Wait, what’s happening?” Luisa’s daughter whispered to her father.

“From here on out, when we’re at home, call your Tío Bubo, Tía Barbara instead,” he whispered back.

“Why?”

“Because it’ll make her happy, and she’s our family so we want her to be happy.”

“But why only when we’re at home?”

“Because some people are rude and care too much about other people’s business. They might make life difficult for your Tío- sorry, Tía, if they know she’s uh-,” he cut off and looked to Barbara, “what uh…?”

“I-I’m a woman,” Barbara said, then blushed bright red, “a-at least I’d like to be. I know that’s complicated-.”

“Oh hush, it’s not complicated,” Alma waved the concern off, and looked around the table with a stern glare, “you want to be a woman, so you’re a woman. We're your familia and we love you so we will all be doing our best to support you. Got it?”

“Of course,” most of the adults said instantly.

“Sí Mamá Alma,” chorused a few of the kids, though many of them didn’t look like they knew what they were agreeing to.

“Sí Mamá Abuela,” said Antonio’s youngest, who hadn’t figured out that “abuela” was a title, not a name.

Bruno glanced at the boy who wasn’t, actually, a Madrigal. The kid was sitting there wide eyed, but nodding loyally. Bruno caught Camilo’s eye and gestured at the kid with his lips, Camilo raised a brow, then did a double take. He paled, then leaned over to whisper something into his wife’s ear; Dolores perked up, her eyes zipping to the boy. Adelaide also glanced at the unintentional interloper and nodded.

Unaware of the potential leak, Mirabel took the lead of the main conversation, “So! Speaking of supporting you, is-, are you comfortable talking about this right now?”

“Sí,” Barbara bobbed her head, even as she gulped, “I-I’m ready.”

“Wonderful, what can we do to show you-, how would you like us to handle this?”

“I-I would like to be treated like a woman at home, and uh-, honestly I would like to be largely ignored outside the house until, uh, until I’m ready to, y’know, be myself out there.”

“Would you prefer to stay home more?” Agustín asked, “If you’re not comfortable being…?”

“I-if that’s alright,” she gulped, “I mean, I still want to pull my weight, so I’m happy to continue handling the shopping-.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Pepa made a quiet “bah” noise as she swatted away the concern, “I’ve been going stir crazy lately, you can have my chores and I’ll take yours.”

“Má, your knees,” Antonio pointed out. Bruno squeezed his own bad knees in sympathy, apparently it ran in the family. That, or he and Pepa shouldn’t have spent so much of their youth playing their favorite game, Tackle Tea Party. Julieta didn’t have knee problems, and she never played Tackle Tea Party with them, but Bruno chose to believe that was sheer coincidence. Clearly their knee problems were hereditary.

“Ay, forget about my knees,” she shook her head, “my mind is about to dribble out my ears if I don’t get some real sunshine.”

Antonio’s brow wrinkled in concern, and he was about to argue more, but his mother crossed her arms and set her chin. Antonio sighed, and although it seemed like he was giving in, Bruno could tell that Pepa would find herself unable to leave the house without a furry escort to look after her in case her knees gave out on her.

“Barbara,” Pepa turned back to her niece in law, and commanded, “we’re trading chores.”

“Oh, uh, alright? Gracias? I mean, we could probably-.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Right. Ok. Thank you.”

“Great, that’s sorted,” Mirabel sent Pepa a slightly worried look, but apparently decided to let Pepa take her own risks, “anything else we should know?”

Barbara and Isabela looked at each other, having a silent conversation, eventually, Isabela shrugged, “I’m only attracted to women? I mean, I thought Barbara was the exception, but then uh-, yeah.”

“Ok? Do you want us to…?” Mirabel trailed off, shrugging a little. After all, Isabela was already happily married, to a woman no less, so it didn’t really seem like anything had to change.

“Nah, just wanted to let you know.”

“Alright! Noted! That everything?” Mirabel said, brightly.

Isabela looked back at Barbara, and shrugged, Barbara saw the shrug and returned it with one of her own.

“We uh, sort of thought we’d have to explain all this a little more, I mean, the basics of it, not-,” Isabela said.

“I guess we hadn’t gotten as far as considering what happens next in any real detail,” Barbara agreed.

“Well, you don’t have to decide everything right now,” Mirabel said, with a quiet smile, then looked around at the other adults for agreement, “you can talk to us as things come up. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Julieta said.

“We’re always happy to listen,” Félix nodded.

“Would you mind if we have more questions, later?” Luisa asked.

“Not at all,” Isabela reassured her.

Then Alma turned to Bruno and said, “What do you think, mijo? Any advice? You have the most experience with this sort of thing.”

Bruno gasped, surprised to realize his mother was talking about his own experiences dating men, he hadn’t thought his Má knew.

Unfortunately, they were at dinner, and as a result, Bruno was eating. When he drew in a sharp breath, a piece of chicken he’d been chewing on came with it. Bruno tried to cough it out, only for nothing to happen. The chicken was stuck. He grabbed his throat with one hand and gripped Heraldo’s forearm with the other, trying in vain to force the piece of chicken out of his windpipe.

“Tío Bruno,” Barbara apparently realized what was happening first, she gripped his shoulder and began smacking on his back, but the chicken didn’t move.

Suddenly, Heraldo shook off Bruno’s hand and stood, pulling Bruno out of his chair and wrapping him into his arms so Bruno’s back was against Heraldo’s front. Sharply, with the side of his fist planted firmly against Bruno’s ribs, Heraldo squeezed him.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

On the fourth squeeze, the chicken moved far enough that Bruno was able to start coughing. Heraldo and Barbara supported him while he bent over double and hacked the chicken out of his airway.

It landed on the ground between his feet. He sucked air in greedily, and coughed a few more times, his throat stinging.

Barbara adjusted his chair so Heraldo could help him sit back down. Somebody pressed a cold glass of water into his hand, he looked up to realize half the family was now on their feet, some gathered close, others comforting frightened looking children. Cheeks burning he chugged the water then took a few more, very deep, breaths.

For lack of anything better to say, he muttered, “Sorry.”

“Wha-?! Oh stow the ‘sorry’, are you alright?” Heraldo shouted.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he gestured at the piece of chicken, “look, see, it’s out.”

Julieta bustled up with an arepa, and after one bite the stinging in his throat went away. She gently rubbed his back and refused to stop until he’d finished the whole thing.

Almost desperate to rid himself of the attention, he turned back to his Má and asked, “What were you saying?”

“I uh, I wanted to know if you have any wisdom for Isabela and Barbara, since you uh-. Are you sure you’re alright?!”

“Fine, sí, totally fine. You just uh, t-took me by surprise,” he chuckled nervously, “d-didn’t realize you uh, you know, knew.”

Something funny happened to his Má’s face. First it screwed up in confusion, then went slack with realization, then screwed back up into even more confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and reopened it a few times. Finally she sat back in her wicker chair and looked heaven ward.

For a second, she was still, and Bruno fidgeted with his sleeve. When it really seemed like she wasn’t going to say anything, Mirabel quietly cleared her throat and started to speak.

“What do you mean you didn’t think I knew?!” Alma burst, startling even Casita, which jolted around them.

“I-.”

“Bruno I’m your mother, how-?! You literally brought your boyfriend to dinner!” She gestured emphatically at Heraldo.

“He’s-.”

“Bruno, mijo, I love you but you’re as subtle as a siren, even when you’re trying to-. Wait! Have you been trying to hide it?”

“Sí?”

Alma gaped at him, then put her head in her hands, there was quite a lot of table between them but he still heard her breathe, “Dios, how did he manage to stay hidden for ten years if that’s the best he can do?”

Bruno’s attention was drawn to Camilo, who was beginning to “cough” into his hand. Bruno tried to glare, but that just made Camilo laugh more. Rolling his eyes, Bruno turned to look at Heraldo for support. Unfortunately, Heraldo was in the middle of draining his wine glass.

“Nevermind Barbara,” Alma said, “if you wish to keep this hidden, do not ask your Tío for advice. It will do you no good.”

“Hey,” Bruno said, as a few more people started smothering giggles.

Alma just gestured once more at Heraldo and said, “Bruno, if you truly believe I didn’t realize you two are dating then I am much more insulted by your estimation of my intelligence than I could ever hope to avenge.”

“She has a point,” Agustín said.

“Oh go trip in a river,” Bruno snapped before he could think better of it, crossing his arms and sinking into his chair as his cheeks burned so hot, it was a miracle they didn’t burst into flame. The children tittered.

“Sorry hermano, but she does,” Agustín insisted, not sounding even a little bit sorry.

Bruno huffed, turning to Heraldo, “You shouldn’t have saved me, I probably wouldn’t have to put up with anything like this in heaven.”

“Tío Bruno,” Antonio’s daughter called out, “you can’t get into heaven if you’re mean to your mother! The Bible says so.”

Bruno raised an eyebrow at the little girl, who could not yet read her chapter books much less the Bible, then turned that raised eyebrow on the girl’s mother. She shrugged sheepishly. One of the other women at the table, he wasn’t sure which, muttered “Using that”.

A graceful hand landed on Bruno’s arm, and when he turned to look, Barbara was smiling at him, “Actually, I don’t need to trouble Tío Bruno for advice, because he’s already helped me more than I thought possible. I uh, I never would have had the courage to come out to the family without the support you’ve shown me over the years.”

“Oh. W-well I didn’t do much.”

“Maybe it didn’t seem like much to you, but every pair of earrings you got me for my birthday, every time you slipped up and used ‘she’ instead of ‘he’, even just when you held the door open for me like you do all the other girls and women,” Barbara was getting a little choked up again, so he gently patted the hand on his arm, “you uh, you really made me feel like if-. You know. Like even if today went horribly I’d still have family that loved me. The real me.”

Quite suddenly, Bruno felt a little choked up himself, in a way that had nothing to do with chicken. He swallowed thickly and smiled tremulously.

“I do love you kid,” he said.

“Kid? Tío, I-I’m forty-three,” she croaked.

“Details,” he said with a shrug.

“Dios mio, Bruno has been calling her ‘she’ a lot, for years now,” Félix murmured to Pepa, accidentally drawing the whole family’s attention.

“Never could keep a secret,” Pepa responded, not even bothering to try and be quiet.

“Do you two mind?” Bruno asked, gesturing between him and Barbara, “W-we’re having a moment.”

“Were we really not supposed to know el Señor Heraldo is your boyfriend?” One of Luisa’s twins asked, suddenly cured of his shyness, apparently.

“Wha-? Has everybody known this entire time?”

“What else would he be?” Félix, the nine year old one, asked with just enough honest confusion in his voice to save his kitten from losing maze privileges.

“A friend, he could be a friend,” Bruno groused.

A few looks were exchanged, and many people avoided his eyes, but for a good ten seconds it seemed like nobody would say what they were all, very clearly, thinking. And then! Bruno was horribly betrayed.

“You don’t have friends,” Adelaide said in a matter of fact voice. Beside her, Camilo broke out laughing.

“My own daughter,” Bruno hissed, without thinking.

Camilo’s middle son, turned to Pepita and asked, “Wait? Is Tío Bruno our abuelo too?”

Pepita started to shake her head, then apparently decided she would rather have chaos, and nodded, “Yeah. Our parents are cousins.”

“What?!”

“No we aren’t, Pepa, don’t lie to your brother.”

“But he’s so gullible.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better Tío Bruno,” Mariano said, “I didn’t know.”

“Thank you Mariano,” Bruno smiled at him.

“Does he count?” Luisa’s daughter asked her dad, “You said he’s an id-.”

“Incredibly valued member of this family, sí, he is,” Luisa talked over her daughter, smiling winningly at Mariano. Oblivious, Mariano smiled back, and even thanked her.

“Wait, was I not supposed to know?” Mirabel asked.

“Um,” Bruno said, “well, I w-wasn’t actively hiding it from you.”

“Bruno, at this point I think it’s safe to say you weren’t actively hiding it from anyone,” Julieta said, she smirked at him as his family continued to betray him by laughing.

“My Má knew,” the boy who Camilo had brought home said, “she’s annoyed because if she knew sooner she would have used you to get her uncle to stop ‘moping around the house’. Apparently he thinks you're pretty.”

“Tell your Má’s uncle he’s not interested,” Heraldo all but snapped, putting an arm on the back of Bruno’s chair.

“Wait. Who is that?” Isabela whispered, pointing at the boy, then silently counting the kids at the table. She looked honestly concerned she may have forgotten a nephew.

“Camilo brought him home by mistake,” Bruno whispered back.

“Does that mean the entire village knows?” Isabela asked the boy.

“I don’t know, I just know my Má wants my Tío out of the house more.”

“Wait, so everybody knew about Tío Bruno?” Barbara confirmed, and a depressing number of people nodded, her shoulders slumped, “Alright Isa, you may have a point about my gaydar.”

“It’s alright amor, you don’t need a good gaydar, we’re already married.”

“Yeah, but I really thought I’d clocked somebody.”

The conversation fractured after that, some kids didn’t know what a “gaydar” is and had to ask, Mirabel and Alma were now discussing whether or not it would be safe for Encanto to get involved with the queer civil rights movement, and others started talking about their days. Bruno pushed his food around his plate, unable to decide if nearly choking to death, or discovering his entire family knew his secret, had killed his appetite more.

He managed a few more nibbles, because the food was really good, but when Mirabel corralled the kids into doing the dishes, he found himself handing a mostly full plate to Helena. Ferdinand zipped by and the plate was suddenly empty. Helena rolled her eyes, giving the blur a stink eye as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“I wanted some of that,” she grumbled, stomping away.

The kids rushed through doing the dishes, and Bruno heard multiple voices yell, “The sooner we finish, the sooner we get dessert” over the clamor of cleaning.

Bruno resisted the urge to try and find a corner to hide in, he knew that once he sat down he would have a cavalcade of nephews and nieces piled on top of him. Hiding in a corner was only comforting if you weren’t trapped in said corner.

Besides, he had Heraldo with him. It turned out hiding wasn’t really an option when your boyfriend was over.

So he sat back down on the couch, Heraldo next to him, and his Má on his other side. Mariano saved the half drunk bottles of wine from the sugar motivated tornado, while Luisa’s husband prepared two pots of coffee, one normal, one decaf. Bruno accepted a cup of decaf and nursed it for the rest of the night, even when he had to hold it high over his head to keep it away from a grasping toddler. Heraldo kindly took up the role of buffer between Bruno and the rest of the adults, gruffly answering any questions directed his way so he was free to sit in silence while one of his smaller nieces fell asleep on him.

Eventually, everything wound down and the niece was lifted from his lap. Bruno stiffly stood up, and offered a hand to Heraldo, who groaned as he got to his feet. Without needing to ask, Bruno knew that Heraldo was too tired to spend the night, so he patiently waited as Heraldo gave his goodbyes then walked his boyfriend home.

“So,” Heraldo said, as the hobbled their way through the empty streets.

“I can’t believe they knew this entire time,” Bruno sighed.

“Really?”

“What? Heraldo, not you too.”

“It’s just… you don’t exactly scream heterosexual,” Heraldo almost looked sheepish, a rarity for him, “honestly, when we first met I assumed you-. Well. That doesn’t matter.”

“You assumed what?”

“Bruno mi amor-.”

“No, no, go ahead, what’d you assume?”

“I thought you may have been born a woman.”

Bruno wasn’t actually annoyed, it’s not like he’d ever cared that much about being “manly” or whatever. But all the same, he squawked as if this was incredibly offensive to him. Mostly for the sake of it.

“What?! It’s a reasonable assumption,” Heraldo defended himself, “You’re a triplet, both your sisters are female-.”

“We’re fraternal. And I have a beard!”

“Oh come now Bruno, there’s nothing wrong with it, I would have fallen in love with you all the same.”

Bruno sighed, rolling his eyes while he admitted, “I know, I just-. You know how it is, I’ve spent my whole life hiding this part of me, or trying to. N-now I find out I may as well not have bothered.”

“Ah, sí,” Heraldo placed a warm hand in the middle of Bruno’s back, “I suppose I would have been a bit put out if my whole town had clocked me after I went through the trouble of marrying Belinda.”

“Do you think it’s the whole town?”

“Well, at the very least that kid’s family knows about us.”

“I’m sorry,” Bruno sighed again, “you probably could have passed if we weren’t-.”

“Bah, I passed for years, got everything I wanted out of it. And look at your niece tonight, she had a lot to lose if coming out of the closet hadn’t worked out for her, but the risk is worth it,” Heraldo waved Bruno’s concerns off, “I want to live now, I want to be loved for who I am. I want to be in love.”

Bruno smiled at him, he forced himself not to look around for whoever else might be watching, then gently, slowly, kissed Heraldo right on the lips. When they parted, Heraldo actually smiled. They walked hand in hand the rest of the way to Heraldo’s home, where they parted with another kiss.

When Bruno got back to Casita, he was sort of surprised to see Isabela still up, idly growing vines around the courtyard. When she saw him her smile was almost blinding.

“Hola mija, still up?”

“Just waiting to thank you again,” Isabela swept forward, and pulled him into a tight hug, then pulled back, keeping her hands on his shoulders.

“Ah, you don’t have to thank me. I really didn’t do much-.”

“The fact that you don’t see any of what you did as a big deal is exactly what I want to thank you for,” Isabela shook her head, “Barbara lost the life she had in the city because to them, her being a woman was too big a deal to handle. But to you, to you it’s just…”

“It’s just one part of who she is,” Bruno finished, “a-and the rest of her is the woman who has made you happier than I’d ever seen you. I really wasn’t trying to-, I just wanted her to know how much I appreciate her. For the way she’s made my niece smile.”

Isabela hugged him again, and he heard her sniffle a little, her head bowed so her face was pressed to the top of his shoulder. This time when she released him, she made for the stairs.

“I uh- I should go check on her, she wanted some time to-, well, she called it ‘privately celebrating’, but I’m pretty sure that just means ugly crying over the clothes she now gets to wear around the house.”

Bruno chuckled nodding, “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

Isabela grinned at him, “The happiest.”

Bruno watched her disappear up the stairs and into her room. He stood in the middle of the courtyard, tired, knee aching, and still a little annoyed that he’d wasted years failing to pretend to be straight. All the same, he had to admit to himself that he had been right.

It was a pretty good day.

#encanto #bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x male oc #Isabela Madrigal #Bubo Encanto #Trans woman Bubo #not Love and Fury Verse #lesbian isabela #trans lesbian Bubo #I can't remember if any of the other male OC's are named Heraldo #tried to double check but you know how searching things on tumblr is :/#anyways #hope you enjoyed this one

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