Chapter Text
Martín is quite imaginative. He’s a man of science, yes, but science could be the highest form of art. His fiancé doesn’t get a say on the matter because he’s an idiot. So trust him, science is the highest form of art and creativity. Creativity governed by rules yes, but all creativity must be. If not, then it’s simply chaos. Martín knows the difference; he’s a master of both.
So Martín, being a genius at what he does, is quite imaginative, but even he couldn’t fucking imagine that he would wake up in the middle of the night to his fiancé’s estranged brother’s mother-in-law kidnapped and hid in his basement by his fiancé’s estranged brother’s stray semi-daughter with the help of the IQ kid managing the security of his store.
Martín would love to give some context to how this came to be, but he’s ashamed to admit; he has no fucking idea what’s going on.
So he makes the worst decision he could possibly make at that moment of time: he asks.
“What the actual fuck?”
“I can explain,” Aníbal says haltingly. So they stare at the boy.
They wait and wait. No explanation arrives.
“Okay, I can’t. I honestly thought we wouldn’t come to this. You were supposed to be asleep.”
“This comforts me,” Martín raises the gun against the boy’s temple. “Do you think you can explain now?”
“Are you insane?” His fiancé's estranged brother’s half-adopted 30 year old stray who kidnapped his sick mother-in-law and hid her in Martín’s basement asks, with a startled expression, “Don’t touch him!”
When Martín pressed the gun harder, she raised her hands. “I will explain so let’s just have a civilized talk! Why don’t you make us some martinis first?”
Did he bring her out of a fucking asylum. “Also why do you have a gun you insane fucker?”
“Silene, speak,” his fiancé orders, like an exasperated parent, tightening his robe around his torso and blinking slowly.
Silene looks at the poor woman watching them with fascination, then back at them again. “Well, can we do it somewhere else? I don’t want to speak in front of her. It’ll really hurt her feelings.”
“No,” Martín screams, “in fact, don’t speak, take her and leave now. And you, you,” he points at Aníbal with the gun, “You’re fired!”
“Wait, what? No! This wasn’t my idea!”
“Fucking asshole!” Silene turns to him, betrayal painting her face. And Martín starts to think he might be having a nightmare. What is he fucking marring into?
Andrés sighs and raises his hands. “Let’s start over. What is my brother’s mother-in-law doing here?”
“Well, there was nowhere else to take her. And I think we have mutual interest in this.”
“Oh, do we now?”
“Yes. Again, this is shit hospitality. Let’s talk over some whisky in the living room, alright?”
Martín was about to shoot her, when Andrés muttered ‘fine’ and turned to leave. Martín sighed and waved his gun at Aníbal, “You wait here! Watch this poor woman. I’ll deal with you later.”
He was about to protest but Martín strove out and locked the basement door from the outside.
“Could you lower this gun?” Silene waved, “Why do you even have a gun you freak? This family married into the worst people, you are all sick.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes I get the whims of kidnapping old women, guns help with that!”
“Sit down,” Andrés says, eating half the words in a yawn as he turns on the lights. “And don’t you dare insult him.”
He brings out a bottle of bourbon and three glasses. Silene grabs her glass and takes a gulp. “Oh, good stuff!”
“Thank you. Let’s start with this: How do you know Aníbal? Andrés asked calmly, crossing his legs and leaning back on the couch beside Martín, as if he were interviewing her for a job.
Martín turns to him sharply, “This is what you’re concerned about?”
“She obviously manipulated the boy to break her in.” He turned to her, “You’ve planned for all of this, probably thinking that you have some leverage. So I’m asking you again, what is my brother’s mother-in-law doing in my basement?
Silene stares at them for a long moment. And Martín feels it in his bones, just as she opens her mouth to speak, that this is the moment his whole life will go downhill. He feels it all boiling underneath, can hear the pins he stuck his life together with flying off, can see from the corner of his eyes the glue uncoming. So he takes a timid glance at Andrés, the love of his life, then back at the face of all that is currently wrong in the world. And he bears himself.