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returnn-of-the-mac · 5 years

Note

The companions (+ Maxson) talk to Sole about an annoying or boring subject and Sole screams Shut Up! 🤐

This one was a lot of fun! Sorry it took so long to complete! If I were a companion in this request, I think I would annoy Sole by fangirling over MCR. Other than that, I’m totally 100% Codsworth (tag yoself when you’re done reading). I also had to change some name brands to made-up pseudonyms to avoid copyright issues. I normally like to write a silent Sole, but this request kinda required a talking Sole. Anyway, please enjoy!😄 (also the movie nickname rq one should be out either tonight or tomorrow!)

FO4 Companions (+Maxson) React: Companions Rambling & Sole Telling Them to Shut Up

Sole’s eye twitched as their companion rambled on for the third day in a row about the same topic. As much as they adored their companion and admired their enthusiasm about the subject, they couldn’t take it anymore. A fed-up Sole stopped dead in their tracks, turned around, and snapped:

Strong:

“Shut up! I‘m done listening to you explain the best way to gut and cook rotting narwhal flesh,” Sole fumed, “I don’t care if you drench it in tato paste or barbecue blood. I’m never going to eat it, Strong. Never!”

Strong frowned, “No be mean human! Or no find milk! Be nice!”

“Strong, I’m sorry. I’m not eating a parasite-infested narwhal corpse.”

“Come on! Rotting horn whale taste like giant fish stick!”

Deacon:

”Shut up! I don’t want to hear about the benefits of changing the HQ password to DEACON IS COOL anymore,” Sole hissed, “Besides, there is a huge hole in your plan. You can’t even spell that with the letters available!”

“Woah there, calm down pal. I didn’t think of that,” Deacon mumbled. He quickly lit up, “But there’s nothing a little permanent marker can’t fix!”

“You think Desdemona isn’t going to notice black marker squiggles all over the door?”

Deacon scoffed, “Um, I’m not stupid. That’s why I’m going to use a brown marker, pal.”

Curie:

“Shut up! I can’t listen to you talk about spinal contusions and brain injuries anymore. It’s making me squeamish.”

Curie immediately stopped talking and her face fell.

“Curie, I’m sorry, I—“

“I’m sorry, [Madame/Monsieur],” the synth began, her eyes welling with tears, “I hope I didn’t upset you. I just find that topic fascinating.”

Gage:

“Shut up! I don’t care about all the pranks you’ve played on Mason. I don’t blame him for being pissed off.”

“Damn. Anyone teach ya manners, boss?” Gage scowled, “Anyway, what? Ya ain’t gonna appreciate the fact that I egged the furry bastard while he was ramblin some mumbo-jumbo-bullshit to his pack of loonies?”

Sole shook their head.

“Or that I lit a bag of Molerat shit on fire right on top of his pompous-ass throne?”

Sole shook their head again.

“Well, boss. You ain’t got no sense of humor, then.”

Piper:

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired about hearing about how Sturges is a synth,” Sole shouted, “I can get behind McDonough being a synth, but there is no way that Sturges is one.”

“But Blue, he has all the signs. He—“

“And so what? What do you want me to do? Even if he hypothetically is a synth, I’m not turning my back on him. I’m still friends with Danse and I’m not dead yet. Curie’s a synth and she’s a sweetheart. X6? Nick?”

Piper‘s face dropped for a moment, before glaring at Sole and turning her back.

Sole sighed, “Piper, I—“

“Don’t talk to me right now.,” The reporter hissed.

Longfellow:

“Shut up! I don’t care about the eight basic knots.”

Longfellow shook his head in disappointment, “I understand you’re sick of this old man bugging you about tying knots, but it is useful information. You never know when you could find yourself in a situation where you need to tie a good ol reef knot, or clove hitch!”

Longfellow pulled a small rope from out of his pocket and Sole sighed.

“Shall we attempt a figure-eight knot today?”

MacCready:

“Shut up! Stop talking about Santa Claus. I know you read about him in an old book we found but—“

MacCready stubbornly crossed his arms, “Oh yeah? I think you’re just being a snob. Some of us haven’t been lucky enough experienced this, [name]. How can you not obsess over a fat guy who spies on people to see if they’re good, breaks into homes, and leaves presents?That’s so cool!” He paused, “I…probably would’ve gotten coal though.”

Sole’s eyebrows furrowed, “Mac—“

“It’s a darn shame he had to die when the bomb dropped. He could’ve brought so much joy to the Commonwealth.”

“—he’s not real.”

MacCready’s jaw dropped, “But the books, the posters, the pictures…there’s so much evidence.”

“Marketing.”

MacCready shook his head in disappointment, “Pre-war Capitalist propaganda…”

Ada:

“Shut up! I already told you I don’t know what a Sara is. How am I supposed to understand what you’re talking about when you tell me you were a Sara prototype?”

“[Sir/Ma’am], like I said before: Sara was a virtual assistant software that was going to be implemented in all future Vault Tec electronic devices. It had a speech recognition engine that could assist users. My biggest flaw was that I could not translate into other languages. I was scraped and remained inactive in a dumpster for years before Jackson reprogrammed me.”

“I still can’t wrap my head around that technological advancement. It doesn’t seem real.”

“Yes, it was highly advanced. That is why it did not make its debut before the bombs dropped.”

Hancock:

“Shut up! I’m done listening to your crazy Daddy-O trip stories. If you hate the chem so much, why don’t you stop taking it?”

Hancock laughed, “Well, [brother/sister], my Daddy-O rides are a lot more fun to talk about than my Jet or Mentat highs,” he thought for a moment, “I mean, besides the time I solved the theory of Quantum Physics on a Mentat high— that was fuckin wild— but other than that it’s more entertaining to talk about the time I shoved an entire summer squash up my ass while on the Big D.”

Cait:

“Shut up! I wish we’d never found that copy of 40 Shades of Silver. Please stop talking about it.”

“Darlin, I never read. But I could not for the life of me put down that book,” Cait sighed, “It was so…wonderfully smutty.”

Sole grimaced.

“That lass really knows how to have a good time. Sounds like a fantasy of mine, gettin hot n dirty n aggressive like that.”

“Stop…”

“Why? Ain’t it a pleasure to talk about?”

Codsworth:

“Shut up! I don’t understand your obsession with Mr. Tidy Magic Erasers. You’ve been talking about them now for. Three. Days.”

Codsworth beamed, “Well, [sir/mum], you know what they say: there’s no tidy like Mr. Tidy!”

Sole rolled their eyes.

“Besides, have you seen how well those suckers eliminate stuck-on grease and grime from dishes,” Codsworth began, “Oh wait, you haven’t. That’s right. You don’t wash your own dishes.”

Preston:

“Shut up! I’m sick and tired of hearing about all the settlements that need our help. Maybe they‘d have a better chance of defending themselves if we didn’t coddle them.”

Preston crossed his arms, “How could you say that, General? I thought you truly embraced the values of the Minutemen.”

“I do Preston, but I think we just need to take a break.”

“Justice never rests. These settlements need us, General. I understand it’s exhausting, but we need to protect these innocent people from the dangers of the Commonwealth.”

Nick:

“Shut up! Please, no more dad jokes. I’m begging you, Nick,” Sole plead, “I’m…I’m annoyed.”

The detective chuckled, “Hi annoyed, I’m Nick Valentine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Stop!”

“I’m not moving!”

Sole grunted in defeat at the detective wore a smug smirk, pleased by the outcome of his jokes.

Maxson:

“Shut up! I’m tired of hearing about the technological prowess of the Prydwen. It’s not that great. It’s just a blimp.”

“Show some respect,” Maxson growled, “And you think the Prydwen is just a blimp? How dare you deride the work of the prestigious mechanics who designed the Prydwen. It is my pride and joy. It is the most advanced vehicle in the Commonwealth.”

“Maybe you should get those prestigious mechanics to work on your Vertibird death traps.”

Maxson frowned, “Vertibird design overhauls are in the agenda. We just have more important projects to tackle before then…such as the redesign of my quarters,” Sole shook their head as Maxson pulled out a color card, “I’m thinking a Deep Ruby Maroon would feel more homey than the current Grumpy Grunt Grey I currently have. But I also like Apple Cider Brown. What do you think?”

Danse:

“Shut up! Can we please just talk about something other than the Fancy Lad Snack cakes?” Sole pled.

“First of all, don’t talk to me like that, soldier. That’s blatant disrespect and I will not tolerate it,” Danse barked.

“Sorry…”

“Second, that Courser friend of yours is out of his damn mind. How can any sane individual honestly believe that strawberry Fancy Lads are superior to vanilla ones?”

“Each to their own?”

“That only pertains to subjective topics. This argument— if we can even call it that— is a solid fact and therefore cannot be disputed.”

X6-88:

“Shut up! What is with synths and Fancy Lad snack cakes? You’ve been raving about them for three days.”

“Hey, now. I suggest you calm down,” X6 warned, “A lot of people— such as your Brotherhood friend— like the vanilla cakes, [sir/ma’am], but the real delicacy are the strawberry cakes with chocolate icing.”

“Does it really matter who likes what flavor?”

“Yes. This is an urgent matter. We should not have to dispute this to be completely honest. It is a fact that strawberry Fancy Lads are superior to vanilla ones.”

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #danse #paladin danse #hancock #deacon #maccready #piper #maxson #elder maxson #porter gage #gage #longfellow #curie #ada #strong #cait #x6 #x6 88 #nick valentine #react

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calliopesquill · 6 years

Text

A Year in the Life: Chapter 14

Chapter 14: A Step in the Right Direction

“No change since yesterday.”

Miguel sighed, running one hand distractedly through his hair as he leaned back against the wall. “I know. Gracias Candela.”

The nurse ruffled his hair fondly, sliding down the wall to sit beside him. “Her parents visit every day. They have been talking with the doctors about transferring her to a different hospital.”

“Back in Canada,” Miguel said with a small nod. “Something about better physiotherapy.”

They’d talked about it extensively during past visits. Candela may have been dead for decades, but haunting a hospital had kept her pretty up-to-date on modern medical knowledge. Assuming that Nell could return to her body next year, it would take months of physical therapy for her to even walk again. Physical therapy during treatment would make a huge difference, but there was only so much that could be done if the body was inactive for so long. And the fact was that Nell’s parents could not stay in Santa Cecilia forever. They had been living in Nell’s apartment since their arrival, but taking a full year’s leave off of work would not be feasible for either of them. Moving Nell back home would probably be for the best, but Miguel still worried. What if something happened while they were moving her? Would he be able to visit her there, or if he could only project to places that he had been before. And the chances of there being another hospital ghost in the hospital they moved her to was infinitesimally small, so he would have no way of knowing if anything changed.

“Thank you,” Miguel said after a minute. “For watching over her for me.”

“De nada,” Candela replied. “You are a good friend, Miguel. She is lucky to have you looking out for her.”

He ducked his head shyly. “We look out for each other.” She had gone after him when he had been taken into the Land of the Dead, had made sure that he was able to come home even though it meant that she might not be able to. He owed her this much. And even if she hadn’t risked everything to save him, that was what friends did, wasn’t it?

Working with Lina in the archives had to be the most interesting and most frustrating experience of Nell’s life. There was a weird sense of pride in the idea that she was reading text that no living human had ever touched, but with each day that passed without finding anything relevant to her problem, her enthusiasm began to wane. She had figured that nagual were pretty rare, but in the records they seemed almost non-existent, with only one passing reference to them after days of research. And even then it was in reference to a nagual that the writer had known in life. Nothing at all about a living spirit crossing the bridge.

And then there was the archivist herself. Lina was prickly, with walls up higher than the gates of Troy. It made Nell question how old she really was. It was known within the Department that Lina was one of the oldest spirits in the Land of the Dead, but that could mean a great many things. It was something Nell pondered whenever she took a break from reading. There was a look in her eyes sometimes when she read, the kind of sorrow of a soul that had seen far too much. And then there was her clothing. Most of the spirits here dressed in the same manner that they did when they were alive, but Lina seemed to do the exact opposite. Except, perhaps, for the doublet that she wore as a jacket, and the soft black velvet cap. Those Nell recognized as being approximately fifteenth-century in origin. In that way they complimented the bright blue, red, and green calavera markings on the archivist’s face, which bore some resemblance to the carvings Nell had seen on the pyramids of the lower levels.

Could she really be over five hundred years old? Who had she been in life that she was still remembered even centuries later?

“...is Lina your real name?” Nell asked suddenly.

Lina froze, her fingers flexing against the cover of the book she was holding, pointedly keeping her gaze locked on its’ pages. “Close enough to it.”

Interesting. She hadn’t even been sure Lina would answer her. “What--”

“I found something.”

“Wait, what?” Nell scrambled to her knees, crossing the aisle to get a better look.

Lina laid the book flat across her lap, pointing at a series of pictograms on the page. “These ones here, they’re a reference to nagual. That one is Mictēcacihuātl, and the mictlan -- the Land of the Dead.”

“So another living spirit really did cross over here,” Nell breathed. She had been starting to wonder if she had been the only one.

“Like you, they didn’t make it back before sunrise. It doesn’t look like they knew about the deadline. They didn’t even try. And when they did…”

“They couldn’t cross back. What happened? Did they make it home?”

Lina shook her head, turning the page. “He was here for barely a week before he changed.” She held up her own bony hand in illustration.

Nell sat back against the bookshelf, scrubbing her hands over her face. A week. It had already been six days. Would she really die tomorrow? “Did they say why?”

Lina shook her head. “Doesn’t say. And the chances of them still being Remembered are small. And if I don’t know them…”

“They’re probably gone,” Nell finished with a sigh. “How many fifteenth-century spirits are still hanging around?”

“Not a lot,” Lina admitted. “The ones that are...well, we don’t get along that well.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Lina said, waving her off. “Didn’t know those blowhards when I was alive, and now that I’m dead I see I haven’t missed much. Bunch of stuck-up pendejos.”

“They’re just jealous because they aren’t as cool as you are.”

The archivist let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.” It was certainly preferable to the truth. You made your choices, she reminded herself. You survived. No point in questioning it now. She cleared her throat, closing the book in her lap. “So what are you going to tell them?”

“Them -- the Riveras? Nothing,” Nell answered.

Lina looked at her sharply. “You’re not going to tell them anything at all? Don’t you think they deserve to know?”

“I don’t want to worry them,” she said softly. “They’ve been through enough. And if it is my last day, I want it to be normal. And we don’t know for sure. We’ve only found one case so far. Maybe...maybe someone made it back.”

Nell dove into the reading with renewed determination. They had found one record, so surely there had to be more. And indeed she came across what she was sure was another reference a couple of hours later. Another man who had fallen asleep one night and never woke up again. This one lasted only five days. Nell almost threw the book across the room in frustration, restrained only by her own respect for the artifact and the knowledge that Lina would not hesitate to throw her from the top of the nearest tower if she damaged one of the irreplaceable books.

She read until her eyes began to cross and didn’t even notice when Victoria stepped into the room.

Victoria, whose eyes instantly took on a covetous gleam behind her glasses as she gazed over the packed shelves of historical records. She’d had a deep love of history and adventure stories ever since she was a child -- something her packed bookshelves could most certainly attest to. One of the best things about the Land of the Dead was that most of the writers had first-hand experience in the eras that they wrote about. Now, seeing this wealth of knowledge spread out before her, she questioned why she had never set foot in the city archives before today.

She stepped towards the shelves, then stopped herself, shaking her head. No reading, she reminded herself firmly. If she started now then neither of them would get home and Mamá would have to send out a search party.

“Wouldn’t go for that one if I were you. Veracruz is dry as the desert,” said a sudden voice from behind her.

Victoria stepped aside with a small frown. “¿Perdón?”

“The book you were looking at. Fourth shelf, green cover. Trust me, you’d be bored to tears by the end of the first page.,” Lina said, moving past her to re-shelve a book that had been put in the wrong place. “Castillo is better if you’re into the sixteenth century, and wasn’t as much of a complete pendejo as some of those other tontos. You’re here for the kid, right?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in subject. “Ah...yes. I’m --”

“Victoria, right?” Lina moved around the shelf to where a pair of not-bony legs were just visible on the floor, and nudged them with her boot. “Oi, your escort’s here.”

“Just one more page.”

“I don’t think so, niñita. I’m not falling for that again.”

“Still bigger than you,” Nell reminded her as she sat up.

“Still younger than me,” Lina retorted, taking the book from her hand. “Way younger. You’re little compared to your friend here, too.”

“My -- Oh! Hey, Victoria!” Nell immediately pasted a bright smile on her face. “Didn’t expect to see you down here.”

“I was running errands this afternoon so I was closest, and Mamá had suggested that I might want to take a look at the archives while I was here,” she shrugged.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been down here before. Victoria’s book collection rivals mine back home,” Nell told Lina. “And it’s almost all history.”

Lina raised one bony brow in interest. “Novels or contemporary accounts?”

“Both.” As many as she could get her hands on.

The archivist nodded her approval. “You’ve got good taste. Now get this kid out of here before she falls over.”

“Hey!” Nell laughed as Lina shoved her out the door. “Rude!”

“What can I say, they hired me for my people skills. Now get out of here. Take it easy tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure thing, Mamá.”

“I am not your mother. Gracias a Dios.”

Laughing, Nell shook her head and started off down the hall.

Victoria hung back. “Did something happen?” She asked when she was sure Nell was out of earshot.

So she’d caught that, did she? Good. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“You found something,” she realized, and if they were keeping so tight-lipped about it, she doubted it was something good.

“She has time,” Lina told her quietly, dark eyes glancing towards the stairs in case Nell had turned back. She had not technically lied. There was still time. But how much of it she had…

Victoria pursed her mouth and gave a short nod of understanding. “Gracias.”

“De nada.”

For a moment they stood silent, their eyes meeting across the threshold, then Lina stepped back, shaking her head. “It was good to meet you, Victoria. Maybe I’ll see you around some time.”

And she disappeared back into the shelves.

Victoria stared after her for a moment, then pushed up her glasses and headed back up the the ground floor where Nell was waiting for her.

“Hey, what took so long?” Nell asked, straightening from where she leaned against the wall.

“Nothing,” Victoria answered. “She wanted to recommend a book.”

“I bow to her expertise. I swear she’s read every single book in the archive. I think you two would get along really well.”

Victoria shrugged noncommittally as they made their way out the front door. “Did you find anything useful today?” She asked, her voice deliberately casual.

There was an almost imperceptible pause, then Nell shook her head. “Nothing. And I’m limited to the colonial and post-colonial records because I can’t read any of the Aztec or Mayan stuff, which is where the answers probably are.”

Victoria did not believe her for a moment. Oh, she was sure that Nell could not read a single word of nahuatl, but she was absolutely convinced now that the girl had found something, and her unwillingness to share it just underscored how serious it must be. “Not a single reference at all to living spirits crossing the bridge?”

“Not one.” Technically that was not a lie. Two references was not one.

Victoria watched the girl out of the corner of her eye the entire way back to the house. Every far-away look, every fallen expression when another spirit jerked away from her, every too-bright smile she absorbed in silence. She watched Nell continue this way even after reaching the house, full of bright chatter, never staying in one place for longer than a few minutes. This, at least, seemed to break the rest of the family of the stiffness that had fallen over them the last few nights.

There was music tonight, more than the absent tinkering that had been done lately. The rebuilding of Héctor and Imelda’s relationship had been slow, a re-learning of each other and who they had grown to be over the last century. Decades worth of habits die hard. They were hesitant at first, but there were moments of such sweetness that broke up the sorrow and regret and painful awkwardness, that made it that much better when they finally came together again. Héctor, to nobody’s surprise, was a hopeless romantic, and was known to improvise silly little songs to flirt with his wife, or just to tease the family when he was happy. And Imelda -- Well, after that fateful Día de los Muertos two years ago, it was as if she had finally unlocked a door inside of herself that had been closed for far too long. She no longer cringed at the sound of a neighbor’s radio, but sang along in a ringing harmony that brought passers-by to a standstill.

It had become a much happier neighborhood now that nobody had to worry about getting smacked with a boot for humming.

Coco remembered a time when she would sneak away from the house under the guise of doing errands to watch the dancers at Mariachi Plaza. Oh, how she had envied them that freedom. It had taken her months to work up the courage to try some of the steps herself. And every time she had to be on the lookout in case her Mamá came looking for her. Now her Mamá danced with her, something she hadn’t done since Coco was a child.

When her Papá had left on that fateful tour, it was as if he had taken the heart of their family with them. Coco didn’t think she saw her mother really smile again since. Not until their reunion in the Land of the Dead. Learning the truth of what had happened to her father had been heartbreaking, and that it was her Tio Nesto that had taken him away from her… Well, it was probably better for him that the police hadn’t yet found him at that time. It still struck her, now and again, how very young her father had been when he died, and how much time he was robbed of. That they were robbed of. Because of one man’s selfishness, her father never got to see her grow up. He never got to play at her wedding, never got to be the wonderful abuelito to her girls that she knew he would have been. He never got to be part of the thousand beautiful little moments that made up a lifetime.

Her family was together again now, a blessing she had never been sure that she would have. Her Tía Rosita talking books with her sweet daughter Victoria, her Tios Oscar and Filipe off conspiring in the doorway of the workshop. Her Mamá and Papá, together again at last, their voices raised in song. And there was her Julio, her best friend and the love of her very long life. Losing him had been devastating, and even though she told herself they would meet again, there was a part of her that doubted. He was the first of her family to greet her in the Land of the Dead, and when she was finally in his arms again, it felt at last like coming home.

As she and her mother spun around each other, she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, talking with their daughter, not far from their latest addition at the edge of the courtyard.

A living spirit. She didn’t think that was possible. But then, she hadn’t thought that curses were possible either, but her great-grandson had certainly proved her wrong there. And hadn’t that been a shock, learning what he had been through that night. He had brought her father back to her, brought music back to their family. There were no words to express her pride in him, or her gratitude. And though she was able to see him again on Día de los Muertos, she thought she’d have to wait until his own passing before she would be able to thank him. But her Miguelito proved to be more full of surprises than any of them had ever guessed. She wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised to see him this year. It was another kind of miracle, to allow her to hold her great-grandson again.

They had almost lost him again that night. Would have for certain had it not been for that girl. But saving Miguel had come at a price, one that Nell was still paying. How long could a living spirit last in the Land of the Dead? How long could they all pretend that everything was okay before something snapped?

She linked eyes with Julio, who gave her his calm knowing smile, as though he could tell what she was thinking. He nodded, and crossed over to Nell who was leaning against the wall, observing them. There was that distant sadness in her eyes, which had been omnipresent since she had been viciously pulled away from her living life. She tried to play it off, but it was not difficult to see. As Mamá whirled her around, Coco lost sight of her husband and their friend, but she didn't need to see to know what Julio was going to do . She hoped that whatever her amor was going to say to the lost artist, that maybe it might help her feel a bit less lost.

Julio stood next to Nell, thumbs tucked casually into the pockets of his trousers. “The first time I ever saw my Coco, she was dancing in Mariachi Plaza,” Julio confided, watching his wife fondly as she and her mother spun lightly through the courtyard. “She danced with such joy… I’d never seen anything so beautiful. I was so nervous, it took me days to get up the courage to finally ask her to dance with me.”

“Love at first sight,” Nell commented with a small smile. It wasn’t something she believed in anymore -- attraction at first sight, certainly, but not love. But in their case, she could definitely believe it.

“Close enough to it.” She’d never danced with a partner before, he remembered. But the trodden-on toes and awkward tripping had been nothing when compared to the light that dancing put in her eyes, and he knew in an instant that he would do whatever he could to keep it there. Setting aside his trade skills to become an apprentice shoemaker had been easy. Giving up music… Well, that had been much harder, especially as his Coco loved it so. And he swore he would spend every day of his life trying to give her back the light that the music ban had robbed her of.

“You suit each other,” Nell said after a moment. “Like, you seem really...together. Like you were made for each other. I don’t know how else to say it.”

Julio tugged the brim of his had shyly down over his eyes, beaming with pleasure. “Gracias.”

Nell smiled. What an absolute sweetheart. Coco was a lucky woman. “Oh, she’s looking this way,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow. “She’s coming over!”

Coco danced over to them, taking her husband by the hand and pulling him in to join her. They spun around the courtyard, giggling like teenagers. Rosita cheered, clapping her hands as her brother and his wife skipped over the cobblestones.

Nell grinned, leaning back against the wall as she watched them. She had to admit, Coco and Julio had the moves. Every step seemed as simple and natural as breathing. She was small enough to envy that. Not that she wasn’t happy for them, of course. She was. But it made her a little wistful. She’d been out of the dating pool for a couple of years, by her own choice, and most of the time she was completely okay with that. She didn’t need a partner to complete her. She has -- had? -- work she loves, friends she loves. Romance had fallen aside into the “someday” category, but now… Would she even get a “someday” anymore?

Lowkey jealousy clicked up a notch as Imelda’s voice joined her husband’s. Where do you even find someone like that?

“You know, I’ve always wanted that,” she confessed as Victoria and Rosita moved to stand beside her. She shook her head, smiling ruefully as she watched Héctor and Imelda play off each other. “It’s silly, and I blame it entirely on too many Disney movies as a kid. But I always wanted to meet someone who would sing with me like that.”

Rosita frowned. “Don’t you have somebody back home?”

She shook her head. “No, and all things considered, that’s probably for the best right now. Been a while. But none of them could sing worth a damn. Seriously, the last one, my ears would bleed every time their favorite song came on the radio.”

Victoria snorted. “Bah. You have time. And men are overrated.”

Nell snickered, her mouth curving in a small smile. “Sometimes.” Not that she had a choice either way now. Not if this might be her last night. Her hands flexed tensely at her sides, absently rolling and unrolling the hem of her dress. Suddenly the warm night seemed almost oppressive, the bright lights in the sky almost blinding. She needed to go, to find someplace where she could break down in peace. And if she was going to die tonight, she’d rather not do it in full view of the Riveras. But just as she was stepping away, they were approached by the twins.

“Where are you --”

“-- off to so early?”

“I’m just...a bit tired,” Nell answered. “Thought I might turn in.”

“But the party’s --”

“ -- just getting started!”

“I know, and it’s great. It’s just… it’s been a long day. I read through so many records, I think my eyes might be permanently crossed.” She told them, slowly edging towards the door. “And I’m going to do it all again tomorrow, so…”

Oscar sighed, turning towards his brother. “If you say so. Probably for the best, anyway.”

“Si,” Filipe agreed. “It was just as you were saying, hermano. She probably can’t dance anyway.”

Nell froze mid-step, turning slowly back to them as Rosita and Victoria started at the brothers’ rudeness. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s nothing,” Oscar shrugged. “You go on, you look tired.”

“Oh, no. Continue. Please. Who said I couldn’t dance?” She said mildly.

“Ah, well, mi hermano was saying earlier --”

“ -- there is often music playing, but we never --”

“ -- see you dance to it, so he said --”

“ -- maybe you couldn’t.” Oscar finished.

“I can dance.”

Rosita shot a sharp look at the boys, then laid a consoling hand on Nell’s shoulder. “It’s okay if you can’t, mija. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But I can dance!” She protested, stepping out of Rosita’s hold.

The music and dancing stuttered to an awkward stop as the other Riveras turned their way.

“What is going on?” Imelda asked, crossing the courtyard towards them.

“Nothing!” The twins said quickly.

“Your boys here think I can’t dance,” Nell said, shifting so she stood hip-shot, leveling a look at them that was less than impressed.

“Is that so?” Imelda leveled a similar look at her brothers, wondering what mischief they had planned. Troublemakers they could be, but they were rarely so rude before a guest.

“And I was about to make them eat their words,” Nell continued. She could almost feel the hollowness that had swamped her these last few hours burn away in the flames of her own competitiveness. “How about you boys put your money where your mouths are?”

The twins exchanged looks. “So you want --”

“ -- to bet?”

“Unless you’re too scared.”

Identical smiles spread over their faces. They nodded and answered together. “Name your terms.”

Ah, now was the question. She might be dead by morning, but already being in the Land of the Dead meant that wouldn’t change too much. So what would she need? “One song. I win, you find me art supplies. Sketchbook, pencils, pens.”

“Deal.”

“And if we win,” Filipe added. “Bragging rights.”

“And a favor -- ”

“ -- to be determined later.”

“Deal.” Nell glanced over to where Héctor was watching them, curiosity and apprehension clear on his face. “Héctor, is that okay?”

“Ah...sure?”

“Okay.” She glanced around, weighing her options. She could definitely hold her own with a partner, but the two best dancers present were Héctor and Julio. Héctor, of course, was needed to play, and Julio was miles shorter than she was, so that wouldn’t work either. Fine. She had more options with a solo anyway. Mouth set in a stubborn line, forcing down nerves, she strode into the middle of the courtyard. Now she had something to prove.

Nell took a steadying breath, then turned back to Héctor. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Héctor glanced between her, the twins, and his wife, then shrugged. Whatever his brothers-in-law had planned, he was sure they knew what they were doing. He started slow, picking out a delicate melody on the strings.

Nell took a few seconds to accustomize herself to the tempo, then with an absent nod she took her first steps. Choreography and improvisation had never been her strong suit, but she remembered enough pieces of old routines to put on a credible showing. She matched her pace with his, slow and soft, as if moving through water. As he picked up speed, she did the same, her feet flying over the cobblestones, throwing everything she had into the movement. Fuck it. She thought, kicking off the ground in an off-balance split jump. So she might be dead by morning. -- Another spin, arabesque, fouettes, an illusion turn -- So she might never get home. Fuck all of it. -- Turn, jete, axle, brisé volé-- She almost flubbed the landing but kept on moving, building with the music and launching into a final series of fouette turns, landing on one bent leg, the other extended to touch the ground behind her as the final notes faded from the air.

She stood slowly, her breath burning in her throat, feeling somehow lighter than she had in days. Somewhere in the middle she had kicked off one of her shoes. Who even knew where that had gone. She gave a sheepish smile, dipping into a curtsy and laughing as her audience applauded. Then she turned to applaud their resident músico. “Heh… Thanks for going along with this, Héctor.”

“Hey, de nada,” he replied, slinging his guitar over his back. “You did good.”

“Thanks.” Nell cast a guilty look over her shoulder as Oscar and Filipe crossed the courtyard towards them. “I probably should have mentioned… I’ve taken lessons since I was a kid. I won’t hold you to the bet. It wasn’t fair.”

“A bet is a bet,” Filipe told her.

His brother nodded in agreement behind him.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Coco smiled. “Papá, will you play another song for us?”

Héctor chuckled, pulling his guitar back around and picking out an airy tune. “I think these old bones have a few songs left in them.”

Coco took Nell’s hand, gently but insistently pulling her into another dance.

The others watched in silence for a moment, then Imelda struck, quick as a snake, and cuffed her brothers on the back of the head.

“Ay!” They cried out in protest, ducking away from her.

“What was -- “

“ -- that for?”

“What was that about? You knew she was a dancer.” Imelda accused.

“Of course we knew -- “

“ -- she was a dancer,” they scoffed. “Have you seen -- “

“ -- that walk?”

“Then why?”

“Look at her,” Oscar said softly, nodding towards where Nell and Coco spun at the center of the courtyard.

“This is the happiest she’s been since Día de los Muertos,” Filipe explained. “I think something happened today.”

“Victoria said she wouldn’t talk about it.”

“But we thought, maybe we could get her mind off it for a while.”

“And you thought insulting her was the way to do it?”

“We did no such thing!” Filipe scoffed.

“We just shared a simple theory.” Oscar continued with a mischievous smile. “It’s not our fault -- “

“ -- she can’t resist a challenge.”

Imelda shook her head. Her brothers could be idiots sometimes, but their hearts were in the right place. She too had noticed the strain in the girl’s behavior, and had been debating herself what to do about it. Now, it seemed, her brothers had done it for her. “Of course you should still get her that sketchbook. After all, you started it.”

“Si, si.”

“We will pick it up tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So Nell's finally found something, though it wasn't what she wanted. At least she has friends to keep her from spinning off the rails.

I know there wasn't a lot of Miguel in this chapter but I promise he is going to get a full chapter of his very own soon. He's definitely got some stories to tell.

As always, thanks for reading! I'll see you all next week! (Same bat time, same bat channel!)

#coco #coco fanfiction #pixar coco #a year in the life #ayitl #miguel rivera #coco rivera #hector rivera #oscar rivera #filipe rivera #julio rivera #fanfiction #pixar fanfiction #disney fanfiction

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