A Madman With a Guitar || Héctor Rivera X Reader

Chocolates and Hangovers

  You were alone, in your little shack, and still hungover. Héctor was being his sweet self and taking care of you while you were still sick. Water, saltines, the good stuff. As far as you knew, Chicharrón was still outside, drinking and talking and drinking some more with everyone else. Héctor.. you weren't sure of. He'd left to "get something to cheer you up", and had been gone about an hour, with no other explanation.

 You sighed. Boredom was beating you with a baseball bat. Well, no one was around. No one to hear it if you were to sing again.

 "Well, everyone knows Juanita.. her eyes each a different color" you sung softly. 

One of the few songs you knew, mostly from Héctor playing for Chicharrón.

 "Her teeth stick out, and her chin goes in~ her.." you paused. Were you comfortable saying that? ".. knuckles they drag on the floor.."

Your eyes were closed, so you were sure you had imagined the footsteps and creaking of the floorboards that would signal someone entering, until you heard Héctor's voice chime in, sweetly, softly, losing you in his voice.. 

 "Her hair is like a briar~ she stands in a bow-legged stance" He smirked, head tilted toward you just enough for you to continue

 "And if I weren't so ugly," and his voice joined yours as he moved to sit next to you "she'd possibly give me a chance"

 You realized what you'd done, and the little marks on your skull flushed, going a little brighter as you stuffed your head forcefully i to your hands, only to feel Héctor wrap his arms around and pull you close. 

 "Ay, ay, ay, Y/N, you were fine. You were better than fine. Your singing is beautiful, chamaco!"

 You looked up to a smiling face, obviously truthful, but you weren't sure Héctor was even able to lie to one of you in Shantytown. You grumbled a bit, stuttering, jumbled noises being the only thing to come out of your mouth. 

 "I'm uh, not that great, y'know? N whas chamaco even mean?" 

 He chuckled "Kid, brat, but you're not a brat." 

 "You've been calling me a brat for two years and I haven't known." 

 "Ah, jeez, relax, relax, I wasn't calling you a brat, I was calling you a kid." 

 "I was twenty three when I died! I was of legal drinking age in my country, I'm not a kid, you-"

 He quickly pulled your head into his shoulder "Ah, ah, ah, no cursing~" he half sang, laughing at your groan. You enjoyed how he had held you, though. The quick pull. You did not enjoy the killer headache you got from hitting your head on his shoulder, and you definitely didn't enjoy that you couldn't have any ibuprofen. 

Héctor pushed you off his shoulder, and you collapsed back onto his lap with a dramatic sigh. 

 "Hey, what were you saying earlier? Before you left?" 

 His face lit up, literally and figuratively once you asked. He placed a hand on your forehead, not moving you after your essentially falling back onto him, and reached into a bag. 

 "Oh no. Oh no, no I recognize that bag. That's a bag you get at the market. Héctoor!" 

 He passed you a small chocolate bar. One of the more pricey ones with nuts in it. 

 "You like it, chamaco?" He smiled that goofy grin at you, obviously satisfied with your response. 

You laughed breathily "Sí. Now take some. You bought it, you eat it." 

 He put up a hand "I got it for you, Y/N, it's yours to eat"

 You groaned and stuffed a half into his hand "Well, since it's mine to do what I want with, I'm giving this half for you to eat! No giving it to Chicharrón either." You huffed, smiling. 

 Héctor finally gave in and took a bite of the chocolate "Happy, Y/N?" his skull marks were still faintly glowing. He was.. embarrassed? 

 "Yeah. Now finish it, donkey." 

 "I can teach you to say donkey in Español, you know?" 

 "It's not like you lived in Mexico. Of course you can." 

 He laughed

 "Do you want to know, chamaco?"

 ".. sure."