Héctor x Imelda Oneshots [Coco Fanfic]

Sr. Mamí

header image by ilovecocomovie on Tumblr

requested by lucy08novembre2001

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Santa Cecelia, 1922

"Papá!"

Two-year-old Coco ran towards her father as he came home from work for the day. Héctor had his guitar in one hand and held it to the side so he could pick up his girl with his free arm. "Coco!"

The little girl squealed as her papá scooped her up. "Te extrañé," she told him and nuzzled into his side.

"Aw, I missed you too."

Héctor began to pepper his daughter's face in kisses as he approached their front door. Imelda stood in the doorway with her arms folded and a tired expression.

"Buenas tardes, my love," Héctor greeted her by kissing her cheek.

That at least put a smile on her face for a moment. "How was the foot traffic today?"

"Eh, you know mariachi plaza. Some days are busier than others, and some days there are more estúpidos adversarios trying to mooch off of our audience."

"Héctor..." Imelda warned him and glanced at Coco.

"Perdón," Héctor knew that his wife hated when he talked poorly around Coco. He understood why, but it was hard to hold his tongue when these were the things that bothered him all day at work.

The family of three went inside to begin their evening routine. Héctor would get to spend some quality time playing with Coco while Imelda prepared something for dinner. That night Imelda was too spent to make anything too elaborate. She hadn't been able to go to the market for food that day and was left to work with just a few leftover groceries. She hoped that bread and beans would be enough for her family that night.

"Sorry there isn't more," Imelda apologized as she plated dinner for her husband and daughter.

"Tengo frijoles!" Coco said, not even noticing the scarceness of her meal.

Coco's innocence made Imelda laugh a little. "Yes, bebe. You've got some beans and some bread."

Héctor didn't say anything but it was clear that he was biting his tongue about something.

That night, after Imelda put Coco to bed, she and Héctor changed into their nightwear and curled up in bed. Imelda would usually have to endure relentless affection from her husband, but that night he was being uncharacteristically quiet. He was still being affectionate, but she could tell there was something on his mind.

"What's bothering you, mi vida?" Imelda asked and laid her head on her husband's chest.

Héctor hesitated to answer. He began to mindlessly comb Imelda's hair with his fingers— it had just become a natural response.

"I know you do your best, but I can't help but wonder why it's so difficult to get a few things done every day."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Well... dinner for example. You didn't get anything from the market today, so we had to have bread and beans. How hard is it to go out and buy food?"

Imelda laughed at that. "Try doing it with a two-year-old on your hip."

Héctor didn't laugh. He was dead serious. "Honestly, Imelda, that baby can't be as much of a pain as you make her out to be."

"You're not with her all day, Héctor!" Imelda said, starting to get upset. "You see her at her best. You're never here at her worst."