Work Text:
She hadn’t actually hit her, so Julieta had lied far too easily while comforting her crying toddler.
Pepa’s lightning had just struck a little too close for comfort, Julieta had assured Pepa as Mirabel clung to her mother with a desperation, sobs muffled against her shoulder.
Just near her, that’s all.
And yet still come bedtime Julieta brushed away offers of switching off who had to actually help bathe the toddlers swearing she was fine to do it, Pepa could handle hair brushing instead.
Still Mirabel had snuggled on her mother’s lap with her cup of milk listening to stories before bedtime, had happily dispersed sleepy goodnight hugs and kisses like always but stayed snuggled in her mother’s arms instead of allowing anyone to take her.
“She’s lying to me.”
“Probably,” Félix agreed with no small amount of sympathy.
“I hurt her.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“She’ll be terrified of me forever now.” Pepa fretted, pacing their room her dark clouds following overhead.
Félix scoffed, “If neither of our babies are terrified of you then there’s no reason any of Juli’s will be.”
“Except the shocking pain of being electrocuted for surprising your Tía is different than the brief jolt from being shocked through your Mami while she’s holding you,” Pepa argued, absently biting at the skin next to her nail. “What do I do?”
“Relax and calm down? Come to bed with your husband?”
Pepa rolled her eyes, “What do I do about keeping Mira from being terrified of me now? I hurt her how can she not be terrified of me?”
“Because she loves you,” Félix repeated his assertion patiently, “And adores you, and if she doesn’t hold a grudge against Luisa for dropping her she won’t hold one against you for a stray bolt of lightning.”
“That’s different,” Pepa tried to brush it off. A two year old falling from climbing on her big sister’s back was vastly different from what probably seemed like her Tía deliberately hurting her.
What if Mirabel thought she’d hurt her intentionally? What if she thought her Tía was so mad at her she’d hurt her? What if she thought it was a punishment?
None of the children had ever been punished physically in any way, bar a brief reactive smack to the hand when one reached for the stove top or for a burning grill.
They talked things out, they didn’t react in anger, that wasn’t them.
The first marks she’d ever left on any of their children had been with Dolores. She’d been only two weeks old, and it had come not due to anger, but through Pepa being startled and accidentally shocking herself while holding her precious baby. The electricity had traveled and left marks across Dolores’s back, but hadn’t caused much annoyance to the baby.
Her little ones often had the marks off and on, depending upon if she was holding them or not when lightning struck, but at least she hadn’t ever made them cry with it, hadn’t scared them.
How could she not have terrified Mirabel with it?
She was lost enough in her own worries that she reacted with more thunder when the door to her room was flung open with excitement, yet the noise didn’t faze either toddler bursting through the door like they were being chased.
“Ay! Escaping again?” Félix protested loudly, despite his smile at the toddler giggles, “I’m gonna put a lid on your cribs.”
“You will not,” Pepa scolded him, hefting both babies into her arms when they impacted her legs nearly knocking her off balance. They’d caused Agustin to hit the floor far too many times and yet it never halted their show of affection. “Who woke who up this time?” Pepa kissed both their heads, moving for the bed with them still in her arms.
She offered a thanks to Casita when her door shut itself, and placed her son and niece on the bed next to Félix, settling herself down next to them.
“Mami, Cami!” Camilo said with great offense in his tone.
“What do I need to get my Cami?”
He rolled his eyes like she was deliberately misunderstanding him and poked Mirabel hard in the shoulder making the girl squawk in protest and smack at his hand, “Cami too!”
“Do you need a different nightshirt?” Pepa guessed at his words, trying not to laugh at his disgruntled expression.
“Mami, go Mira! No Cami.”
Mirabel grinned at that, clapping her own hand over her shoulder. “Mira,” she said with great cheer and Camilo pouted, tearing up.
“What does Mira have that you want?” Félix offered, picking up his son before legitimate tears started, “You want flowers on your nightshirt too?”
“Mami do,” Camilo whined as if something were horribly unfair.
“What did Mami do?” Pepa felt unease starting over humor at their late night conversation.
Mirabel lit up at the question, clumsily grabbing at her nightshirt to haul it up and off, turning her curls into a mess of hair as she tangled it up. “Look!” She declared, obviously quite pleased with herself, poking her shoulder with excitement, “Mira’s!”
“No fair!” Camilo almost howled his upset.
His upset that Mirabel had marks going across her shoulder, down her chest. Marks caused by lightning that couldn’t be taken away by Julieta’s food and had to fade away on their own.
“Oh mija,” Pepa whispered, tracing the marks with her fingertips, “I’m sorry.”
It was one thing to guess based on Julieta’s behavior, based on her lying so blatantly, it was another thing to see the marks of violence that couldn’t be taken away.
Mirabel didn’t seem to be upset though, judging by her smile. “Look,” she said excitedly again, touching her shoulder and then leaning out to press her hand against Pepa’s shoulder where the same marks showed. “Mira,” Mirabel giggled, patting her own shoulder, then reaching out to clumsily pat Pepa’s again, “Tía ‘mi.”
“Yeah, just like Tía Mami,” Félix agreed slowly, patting Camilo’s back where the boy was in a full on fussing fit over the fact he didn’t have any marks like his prima, “Don’t worry, hombrecito, we can draw some on you like Papi did huh?”
Camilo made a face, poking at the bright colored tattoo lines that covered his father’s skin, “Not Mami.”
“No, but Mami can’t pick what color hers are.”
No, hers were always an ugly red or pink color marring the skin and reminding her she had no control over hurting people near her.
Mirabel seemed fairly content and pleased with her marks, happily mumbling the comparison to herself and leaning into her Tía’s arms.
“Tía ‘mi, Mira. Tía ‘mi, Mira,” she repeated happily and pressed a noisy kiss to one of Pepa’s marks, making the rain clouds reappear.
Camilo’s tears dried up, replaced with a sulking look as he scampered out of his father’s arms towards the edge of the bed.
“Hey, where you going?” Félix snagged Camilo back by his shirt.
“Ink,” Camilo insisted but didn’t wriggle too hard to get loose of his father’s arms."
"Uh huh, you can steal Tio Agi’s ink tomorrow and we’ll cover you all up if you want but now it’s bedtime. Sleep time for all the bebés.”
Camilo flopped back dramatically, whining out a fairly long ‘no’ in reply.
“Right, yes, sleep time,” Pepa agreed, making Mirabel give up her happy comparisons of their marks to put her night shirt back on.
She could go put both of them back into their cribs in the nursery, or send them off to Julieta’s room but after a moment of debate she pulled the covers back to let both toddlers climb under them, settling between her spot and Félix’s.
It took several minutes of whining and begging for just one story, one song, a drink of water, maybe milk, someone needing their blanket and too many whines of ‘but they’re touching me’ before both little ones were settled and calm, and both using Pepa as their own living pillow.
“Told you she loves you still.”
Pepa rolled her eyes at the smugness in her husband’s tone, but the lack of thunder gave away her lack of upset. “You get one ‘I told you so a year’, use it wisely.”
“Oh I am. I told you she loves you. You’re not scary, you’re just loud.”
“I think you used that line to ask me out at least once.” Pepa addressed her husband but kept her eyes on the now dozing babies. Camilo had his thumb in his mouth, his leg across her waist as he sprawled across her in a seemingly uncomfortable heap, while Mirabel was curled up into her side, head resting over the marks on Pepa’s arm that she’d been so cheerful they shared now.
No fear, no hesitation, no inclination that the marks were made of anger or fear, or anything more than just something her Tía could do, like her sister could grow flowers, or her prima could hear everything in the world.
She couldn’t resist pressing kisses to both babies heads, getting sleepy grumbles in return before she settled back herself to attempt to sleep while completely unable to move.
Pepa woke with the sun and was not surprised in the least to find the only other person in her bed was Félix.
If the babies slept in the nursery, or in with Pepa, Julieta always collected them first thing when she awoke to get them changed and fed, and start their day off early to keep them on a schedule.
It only meant she took her time getting dressed, lobbing a shirt towards her husband with a wake up call that had him complaining about sore backs and baby feet that gained him only a kiss and mockery before she left the room.
Dolores and Isabela were in the bathroom both trying to do their hair over the same vanity and bumping elbows constantly, but neither willing to separate and try to do their hair solo; where would be the fun in that?
“Mami’s cooking breakfast,” Isabela informed her promptly with a big grin, “Cami’s green.”
Pepa greeted both girls with a kiss to the top of their head and a quick hug on her way through, “Uh huh, and why is Cami green?”
“He painted himself,” Dolores grinned but quickly added on, “I had nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t doubt it. What did he paint himself with?”
“Ink. He took Papi’s ink. It’s just him though, Mira’s clean,” Isabela seemed far too amused by that, fidgeting with her brush, “Mami says we’ll let him soak in the tub later and get him clean.”
Right, soak in the tub, her child who seemed to think that mud was the cleanest substance on earth and soap was acid, of course he’d love to soak in a warm bath for long enough to dislodge any ink soaked into his skin.
--
They weren’t lying when they said Camilo was green, in fact his entire left side was a fairly rich green color from his waist to his ear, now dotted with red from the stewed tomato he’d pulled from his breakfast and was trying to paint himself with.
He was safely contained in his high chair, but the floor around him covered in bits of food he’d found unacceptable for eating or painting. She hesitated over giving him a kiss good morning but risked it, pressing a noisy kiss to his cheek and ducking back out of reach of tomato smeared hands, “Can I ask why you got into Tio Agi’s ink?”
“Papi marks,” Camilo splotched more tomato along the green with his artistic touch, “See, Mami?”
She honestly couldn’t see much of a lightning pattern in the green on his left side, but since his entire right palm was covered she had to assume he’d done it clumsily with his hand which would limit his artistic designs, “Yes, I see. Very pretty.”
Mirabel blew a raspberry at Camilo who blew one back, spitting tomato out in the process.
“Good morning to you too,” Pepa greeted her with the same enthusiastic cheek kiss to make her giggle. Thankfully Mirabel was neater in consuming her breakfast, and most the mess had been confined to her fingers.
“Papi marks,” Mirabel rolled her eyes with such a dramatic air that Pepa felt a little proud, “Tía ‘mi marks.”
“Yes, I know. I’m also sure his… marks are going to last several baths. You,” Pepa turned, addressing her sister pointedly ignoring them while working on breakfast for the rest of the family, “Are an awful liar.” she crossed the kitchen despite the toddler protests to hug her sister, give her just as loud a good morning kiss on the cheek, “But thank you for trying.”
“I am an amazing liar,” Julieta denied, patting Pepa’s hands around her middle lightly in return affection, eyes on breakfast to avoid flames like her husband or Pepa could always manage by accident, “My children could not keep a secret if you paid them. And I have paid them.”