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There was something missing, both of them agreed on that. They didn’t fully realize what—who—it was until Joaquin came by to drop off his wedding gift, and he just fit, he just looked so right in the home and in their lives, and they wondered how they hadn’t figured it out before.
They made the decision only a week after their wedding, but by then their third amigo was already gone, off to have more ‘heroic adventures’ and likely distract himself from his emotions as men often opted to do. So they made the now-empty Sanchez home their own and they saved up some money, and they bought two rings that sat in carved wooden boxes above the hearth for nearly four months before Joaquin finally came home to San Angel.
His first night back, he was treated to a party, thrown by Maria’s father, of course. Maria and Manolo were very careful to sit on either side of their friend. They reached across Joaquin to share food and drink, and linked their hands behind him as if to prevent his escape from the table. By the end of the night, Joaquin was as red as Maria’s favorite dress, somewhere between flustered and frustrated, and kept staring at both their mouths every time they leaned over him to share their dessert.
“So, Joaquin, tell us, what travels have you been on this time?” Maria asked, an eager glint in her eye. Joaquin started to reply, but trailed off when Maria held her spoon out to Manolo, right in front of Joaquin. Her husband leaned forward, eating the bite of flan on the spoon and humming in satisfaction while Maria laughed and Joaquin pushed back his chair hurriedly. This pulled the Sanchez’ hands apart, and Joaquin mumbled something that might have been an apology.
When Joaquin excused himself from the table, claiming he needed to get out of the stuffy inside air, Manolo grinned at Maria, and she winked back. El paso uno, completado.
●♦●♦●♦●
Joaquin didn’t understand. Maria and Manolo appeared to have done it on purpose; sandwiching him in between them only to lean across him to be all…romantic. That much was obvious. What wasn’t so obvious was why. It seemed too mean of his friends to put him in such a position. It was mildly embarrassing, and the only purpose he could see it serving was to make him jealous, which just didn’t make any sense because this was Manolo and Maria. They just weren’t that sort of people.
Taking a deep breath as he leaned his head back against the wall of General Posada’s house, Joaquin looked over when he heard the door open and close again. Maria stood there, an amused smile dancing on her lips, and he was careful to keep his eye away from that smile because his heart beat too-loudly when he saw it.
“Are you okay?” She asked, laughter in her voice. Joaquin didn’t know why she and Manolo had taken it upon themselves to torture him so.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He shook his head dismissively, forcing a laugh that turned into clearing his throat when he noticed just how fake it sounded. “I just needed some fresh air.”
It was silent for a few moments, and then,
“Do you want us to stop?” Maria asked. Her smile was gone, replaced by pursed lips that looked almost pensive. Joaquin was going to say yes, was going to say of course I want you two to stop teasing me, but there was something in her eyes that gave him pause. It wasn’t quite disappointment, but it was close. More than that though, it was sincere and worried and suddenly he wasn’t so sure she was asking the question he thought she was asking.
“No.” He said, and she stood up on tiptoe to kiss him, square on the lips. Joaquin melted into it without thinking, his hands moving to her waist to steady her when she reached up and looped her arms around his neck, and then his brain restarted and wait Maria what?!? Pulling away, he gave her an alarmed look.
“What?” She asked, teasing. “You don’t want to kiss me?”
“I do, but--” Before he could get another word out she pulled him down again, not kissing him this time but making him lean down far enough that her lips brushed his ear.
“Good.” She whispered, and she’d disappeared inside again before he could even begin to try and understand what’d just happened.
●♦●♦●♦●
Maria wasn’t sure whether Joaquin understood yet what they were doing. But he would, eventually. They’d already chosen him, but he had to choose them back; and they were going to make sure he had good reason to.
●♦●♦●♦●
He didn’t tell Manolo about the kiss. He was going to, but every time he saw his friend he just couldn’t get the words out. And how was he supposed to? How was he supposed to go up to a man he’d been best friends with forever and say “your wife—our other best friend since forever—kissed me in a very clearly not friend-like manner and it was wonderful,” and be able to deal with whatever reaction came next? Joaquin almost wished he had that old medal back, just for the bravery it provided him; it would have been very useful in his current situation.
(He was too busy worrying to notice that he was being invited to dinner with the couple more and more often, or that the romantic songs Manolo played after their meals weren’t always spent smiling at Maria.)
When Manolo stopped him on his way out of the Sanchez house one night, Joaquin nearly blurt out a confession then and there.
“Meet me on the bridge, at midnight.” Manolo said quietly, just before the door shut. He knows, Joaquin thought, he wants to avoid making a scene in the middle of town but he knows!
He went to the bridge. He expected Manolo and a scowl, maybe an argument, maybe a shove or two. What he didn’t expect was Manolo, a few candles set out on the far side of the bridge, and a guitar. What he really didn’t expect was a song, and a warm, soft smile, and a kiss.
It was so unexpected, in fact, that Joaquin forgot to pull away from it.
●♦●♦●♦●
Without Joaquin really realizing it, the three of them settled into a cycle. He’d be dragged off by one Sanchez or the other, and the three of them had their dinners and their fencing sessions and Joaquin could almost ignore the worry constantly gnawing at his insides, that he would lose them.
●♦●♦●♦●
“Why?” He asked, and Maria unlocked her lips from his to give him a questioning glance. “You seem so happy with Manolo, and you never wanted to be with me, before--”
“I am happy with Manolo.” Maria smiled. “But I love you, too, Joaquin. I didn’t want to marry you, because it didn’t mean anything. If I was only marrying you to make you stay in San Angel, not because we loved each other, then it wouldn’t be the same.”
●♦●♦●♦●
“Isn’t this where you died?” He inquired, needlessly (he knew this was exactly where Manolo had died before, he’d been the one to find the body and carry it home). Manolo looked up, and Joaquin shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“Está bien.” Manolo assured calmly, going back to tuning his guitar.
“I just—I guess I just wondered, why do you want us to meet here, of all places?” Joaquin looked to the other man curiously, and Manolo shrugged.
“I like it.” He answered simply. “I proposed to Maria here.”
And there it was again, the ugly guilt that rolled through Joaquin every time he was with one Sanchez and they mentioned the other, every time it was brought up that he was now effectively in relationships with both of them, and to the best of his knowledge neither of them knew this.
●♦●♦●♦●
“I love you.” He said it without thinking, but Maria didn’t even pause in her attacks, their fencing swords clanging against each other and echoing in the courtyard.
“I know.” She grinned, making a jab at his chest that he barely managed to block.
●♦●♦●♦●
“I love you.” He admitted, half-hoping the guitar would drown it out, but Manolo froze, and the music stopped. Joaquin’s heart beat loudly in his chest.
“And Maria?” Manolo asked in a knowing tone, and Joaquin almost choked on nothing.
Oh no this is the end of it they’ve figured it out, Joaquin thought, and where he thought he would feel relief, he felt a dull, hopeless kind of dread. He was going to lose them, both of them.
Manolo dragged Joaquin home, despite the other man’s protests and pleas and extremely concerned questions, to where Maria was waiting in the front doorway with her hands clasped behind her back. Once the three of them were inside, Chuy’s soft snores coming from where the pig was sound asleep on the rug by the fireplace, Manolo practically pushed Joaquin down into a chair, and the Sanchez couple stood in front of their friend while he tried to come up with something to say that’d actually get him out of this.
Then they each got down on one knee, and Maria took her hands from behind her back, revealing an intricately carved wooden ring box. Joaquin’s thoughts decided to stop completely at that point, his mind going blank and his mouth going dry.
“Joaquin Mondragon,” Manolo started, a grin splitting his face.
“Will you do us the honor,” Maria continued, opening the box and holding it up for Joaquin to see the ring inside.
“Of becoming our husband?” Manolo finished, and Joaquin, in a rare display of emotion, started crying, which made both of the others laugh.
“I thought--” He started, sending them a half-hearted glare. He shook his head and didn’t finish his sentence, but they seemed to get it anyway. Maria punched Manolo’s arm lightly.
“I told you we should have seduced him together!” She accused, and Manolo shrugged helplessly.
“I thought it would be more romantic if we didn’t!” He defended. Joaquin laughed.
“Yes.” He said, and his fiancés grinned, standing and pulling him up into an embrace, kissing him until the last of his needless worry had disappeared.
●♦●♦●♦●
The citizens of San Angel honestly couldn’t say they were very surprised three weeks later, when Joaquin Mondragon, with an unexplained golden wedding band on his finger, announced that he was staying in town for good. Nor was anyone shocked when he moved in with Maria and Manolo Sanchez. Those three had always been together in everything, people reasoned to themselves. Why would anything be different now?
●♦●♦●♦●
La Muerte smiled softly as she watched over the three sleeping forms through the window across the way. When she heard her husband appear behind her, she didn’t bother turning before addressing him.
“So you didn’t lose the wager, after all, Balby.” She said, and Xibalba eyed the trio with an unimpressed expression.
“Neither did you, mi amor.” He pointed out.
“True.” La Muerte replied. She smiled at her husband and offered her hand to him, pleasantly surprised when he returned the gesture and took it, and Xibalba rolled his eyes at her raised eyebrow.
The two of them left hand in hand.