Chapter Text
“But I keep cruising; can't stop, won't stop grooving. It's like I got this music in my mind, saying ‘It's gonna be alright!’ 'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play; and the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake- I shake it off, I shake it off!” - Shake It Off, Taylor Swift
So, here’s the thing: Casita was back. Bruno was back. And to Félix, that meant “Guy Time” was back on.
Agustín pointed out that “Guy Time” never actually stopped. The two of them still hung out every day and still went out for drinks when they could. It was just considerably less crazy as they got older and had children. Real life came knocking and they were forced to answer the door. They simply didn’t have the time, energy or stamina to go all-out and reckless anymore.
And then it was just the two of them and…Okay, it had always felt like something was missing. But still! They had fun.
“But it’s not the same,” Félix insisted. “You said so yourself! You even cried about it.”
“In my defense, I’d had a lot of bourbon.”
“Ay, don’t remind me, I thought Julieta was going to kill me.” Félix shuddered at the memory. Agustín, it had to be said, could not hold his drink.
“And Bruno was…” Agustín trailed off, trying to find a delicate way to phrase it, the way he usually would for one of his daughters, his niece or nephews.
Félix, as usual, had no such qualms.
“Avoiding us.”
“I wouldn’t say avoiding us.”
“Okay then, he was about to snap like a twig.”
“I’ve told you to stop phrasing it like that!”
“Fine, fine.” Félix held his hands up. “Bruno was…Struggling.”
Agustín nodded. “Sí,” he said. “Let’s be honest, it was just the two of us going for a night out for quite a long time by- well, by that point.”
“And now we’re going to change that, hermano.”
Agustín would like to think he was an optimistic person. And, really, he was! He found a way to look on the bright side of life, to see the good in people or in any given situation. But Félix? He took that optimism to the next level.
Delusional, Bruno had once bluntly said and unlike Agustín he hadn’t needed bourbon to say it.
“I don’t think Bruno will want to,” Agustín admitted, voicing the fear that had been nagging him since Félix first burst in to proclaim they were going out tonight.
Félix crossed his arms. He was getting that look on his face, utterly stubborn and determined to have a good time. He’d drag Bruno out kicking and screaming if he had to. He’d done so before.
“If anyone needs a night out, it’s him,” Félix said firmly.
“I know, but-”
“And if anyone deserves to get utterly blackout drunk, it’s Bruno.”
“Félix, he’s still-”
“BRUNO!”
Agustín jumped at the shout and saw why Félix had suddenly bellowed their cuñado’s name: Bruno had walked past the open kitchen door and now he leaned against the wall, clutching his heart, staring at Félix with big frightened eyes.
“Félix!” he gasped. “Dios, give me some warning next time!”
Félix, in fact, did not give him any warning. He just marched towards Bruno and threw the man over his shoulder.
Agustín resigned himself to a long night.
“F-Félix!” Bruno instantly began to kick and punch at Félix, trying in vain to wriggle away. Bruno may have been nimble, but in this case Félix’s sheer strength was winning out. “What are you doing? Put me down!”
“We’re going out,” Félix said cheerfully. Agustín grabbed his and Félix’s wallets off the kitchen counter and hurried after them.
As expected, Bruno’s eyes widened even further in horror. He shot Agustín a look of complete and utter betrayal.
“Sorry,” Agustín said. It wasn’t a total lie.
“I don’t have any money,” Bruno said quickly. “I can’t go out.”
“We have money,” Félix all but sang.
“I, uh- I haven’t showered!”
“Liar, I can smell your shampoo.”
“...I hope you know how strange that sounds,” Bruno said, twisting slightly in Félix’s grasp to frown at him.
“Like you can judge, hermano, you’re even stranger.”
Bruno groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t want to.”
“Come on! Guy Time!”
“Oh god,” Bruno muttered. He sounded more horrified than ever. “Félix, please, we are fifty.”
“And still young!” Félix paused at Casita’s front door, which swung open on its own for them. “Pepita, mi vida!”
Pepa poked her head out of the living room. She took one look at them and burst out laughing.
“I’m kidnapping your brother,” Félix informed her.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Pepa said, still happily giggling. She blew a kiss at Bruno, laughing all the more at the indignant frown on his face. “Have fun!”
“Traitor,” Bruno snapped.
“Love you too, hermanito.” Pepa disappeared only to reappear a moment later; “Stay safe!”
“We will,” Agustín promised. The door shut behind them, the sun was beginning to set and Félix marched along the path to the village, far too proud of himself.
Bruno seemed to have resigned himself. At any rate, he’d stopped struggling.
“I hate you both,” he said. “Mirabel’s my new best friend.”
“And I’ll win that title back after some tequila!” Félix laughed.
Despite himself, despite how utterly childish it felt, Agustín found himself stopping momentarily in his tracks.
“I thought I was your best friend?” he demanded.
Honestly, even he wasn’t too sure which brother-in-law he was directing the question at.