Megan & Francisco - 5 - Two-Soup Love (f)

[angora48]

Wow, it's been way too long since I wrote a Megan & Francisco story! I've been trying to make more time for my "fun" writing this year, so hopefully I can get back to writing about these two more often!

Here are the previous stories in the series:

An Honor Just to Be Nominated (m)

Ideal Sick-Day Viewing (m)

Returning the Favor (f, m)

Rule One of Hollywood (m)

 

Now, onto Part 1!

 

When fall rolled around, Francisco asked Megan what she thought about spending a few months in Mexico. He was going to be shooting a film, and he’d talked to the director about letting her meet with the sound editor, so she could see what it was like to do sound in the Mexican film industry. “So maybe you can come do the sounds in Mexico for one of my other films someday?” he said. 

The idea excited Megan, both professionally and personally. She really didn’t have any experience with the business outside the U.S., other than as a viewer. And in the seven months they’d been together, Francisco had always come to her in L.A. He didn’t make a big deal about it, but flipping the script and going to stay with him on his turf felt like a major step to Megan.

Once filming started, Francisco would be busy, but that wasn’t likely to be until mid-October. That gave them plenty of time to relax and have fun together beforehand.

After spending nearly two weeks with Francisco’s parents in Zacatecas—Megan managed to meet all four of his siblings, popping in at different points of their stay—they were heading to Francisco’s house in Mexico City. It was a relatively short flight, but Francisco had opted for the seven-and-a-half-hour drive instead, splitting it over two days and turning it into a mini road trip so Megan could see more of Mexico.

On their first day, they’d stopped to see a gorgeous neogothic church and got some spectacular food before spending the night in a beautiful city named Guanajuato. They checked out Callejón de Beso, a.k.a. Alley of the Kiss, an alley so narrow that lovers could supposedly kiss from opposite balconies.

“But it only works if the person you love is in the apartment right across you,” Francisco pointed out.

“Right,” Megan said, giggling. “If they’re above, below, or to the side of you? You’re out of luck.”

The next morning, Megan was still dozing when Francisco burst into their hotel room with breakfast. “How much do you want to see today?” he asked, and Megan smiled through her yawn when she saw his bright, eager face. “We really should stop in San Miguel de Allende. There’s this library there, and it’s one of the buildings with the most art you’ve ever seen! Incredible murals on the walls and the ceiling—you’ve never seen a library like this. It’s, I don’t know, it’s like a holy temple for books.”

“Sounds amazing,” Megan said, stifling another yawn. She sat up in bed, pushing her dark curls back from her face and accepting the concha Francisco offered her.

“Yes, so amazing,” Francisco teased. He grinned, no doubt amused by the contrast between them. He was fully dressed and brimming with energy while Megan was barely awake and modeling some impressive bedhead.

“It does,” Megan insisted. “Or it will as soon as I wake up.” She took a big bite of her concha.

“Is everything okay?” Francisco asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He reached forward to tuck a few of Megan’s curls behind her ear. She loved it when he did that; it was such a casual, homey gesture.

“Yeah,” Megan replied. “Just tired, and I kind of have a headache.”

“Really?” Francisco said. “Do you need medicine?”

“I’ve got some in my bag,” Megan told him. “The little one with my bathroom stuff in it.”

She settled back against the pillow, eating her breakfast while Francisco rummaged in her bag for the ibuprofen. “Here it is,” he said. “Water?”

“Gracias,” Megan said, smiling. 

Francisco brought her a bottled water and the pill bottle, leaning in for a kiss as he set them on the nightstand. “De nada—now hurry up!” he urged. “If you’re tired, you can sleep in the car, but I want to go soon!”

“Got it,” Megan replied. She polished off the last of her concha, licking the dusted sugar off her fingers, then took a couple ibuprofen. “Gimme ten minutes, and I’ll be ready.”

Okay, so it was sixteen minutes before Megan was ready, then another five before they were on the road. She really was feeling tired—combination of the bright sun and their long travel day yesterday, she supposed—but she didn’t want to sleep on the ride. It was a scenic drive, and she and Francisco could always find ways to pass the time.

They reached San Miguel de Allende by late morning, and the library did not disappoint. It felt a little weird to think of a public library as a tourist destination, but as soon as they stepped inside, Megan could see why. Vivid, stunning murals covered the walls and ceilings, and there was a man playing the piano in the corner.

“I love it when people turn something functional into something beautiful just because they can,” Megan remarked, walking hand in hand with Francisco as they craned their necks to admire the giant mural on the ceiling. “More of the world should be like that.”

“I like it too,” Francisco said, grinning. “Everyone goes to the library or, I don’t know, the food store or the laundry. Why not make it beautiful?”

Even though they hadn’t been on the road too long, it still felt good to stretch their legs. After wandering around the library, they stopped for some food from a vendor and walked while they ate. 

“So how do you like Mexico-Mexico?” Francisco asked, teasing. When he’d first brought it up, Megan had admitted she’d only been there once, for a wedding at a resort, which she didn’t really think counted as being in “Mexico-Mexico.”

“I definitely like it,” she replied. “When I came out for Carissa’s wedding, like, it was beautiful and everything, but it’s kind of like being ih-ihhhn…” She trailed off as her nose started to itch. “hihhhhh-shioooooo!” She buried a breathy sneeze into her shoulder.

“Salud,” Francisco told her.

“Thanks,” Megan said, blushing as she sniffed lightly. It was so weird, the way she was hyperaware of sneezes and other people barely seemed to notice at all. She wondered if Francisco would ever catch on that she blushed every time she sneezed in front of him.

But her own sneezes didn’t “distract” Megan nearly as much as Francisco’s did, so she quickly brought herself back to her train of thought. “At a resort, it’s like you’re in a bubble,” she said. “It’s like you’re there for the climate but not the actual country, you know?”

“Yeah, I don’t like resorts,” Francisco said, wrinkling his nose cutely. “I—oh, hold on.”

Two college-aged girls had approached, giggling nervously. Francisco switched seamlessly to Spanish and gave them his thousand-watt smile. Megan held his quesadilla while he talked to the girls and took a selfie with them.

It was definitely a difference between walking around together in LA and walking around together in Mexico. Megan didn’t begrudge the excited fans who came up to them, but it always gave her a slight wtf, I’m actually dating Francisco Morales! reaction.

After a few more nervous exultations from the girls and a quick pair of hugs, they were back on their way. “Sorry, what was I saying?” Francisco asked, going in for a quick kiss as Megan handed back his quesadilla.

“You don’t like resorts,” Megan reminded him.

“Right—yeah!” he said. “I love traveling and seeing different places, but you can’t get it in a resort. It just doesn’t feel real.”

“Exactly,” Megan agreed. “Now, traveling with a local? Totally the way to go. Especially when his mom can cook like yours can!”

“Oh, that’s true,” Francisco said. “Maybe when we get back to Mexico City, you’ll be disappointed with my cooking.”

“Is that why your mom kept trying to give us more food when we left?” Megan teased.

 

When they got back to the car, Megan took off her sunglasses to rub the bridge of her nose. “Do you still have your headache?” Francisco asked, frowning.

“Yeah, kind of,” Megan admitted. “I can’t shake it.”

“English is such a weird language,” Francisco remarked as they headed back toward the main road. “I don’t think it would help a headache to shake it.”

That made Megan laugh. “Valid,” she said. She drew in a sharp inhale and sneezed a soft “hehhhh-shoooooo!” into the back of her hand.

“Dust?” Francisco asked.

“I dunno,” Megan replied, glancing sheepishly at him. She put her sunglasses back on. “Too much sun, maybe.”

“There’s not much we can do about that,” he said.

Despite her best efforts, Megan wound up nodding off somewhere along the drive. When she woke, she felt fuzzy and out-of-context, not quite sure where she was. “Hmm?” she mumbled drowsily.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Francisco said. “You have good timing, we’re just coming into Mexico City now.”

Megan sat up, stretching her stiff muscles as well as she could inside the car. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you to do a long drive on your own,” she said.

“It’s fine, I put on a playlist,” Francisco told her. “You must have been really tired, because you didn’t wake up at all, even when I started singing.”

“Mm hmm,” Megan murmured. Her mouth felt dry. She grabbed her bag and pulled out her bottled water.

“How’s your headache?” Francisco asked. “If it still hurts, you can probably have more medicine. It should be long enough.”

She did still have a headache, but that wasn’t what Megan was focusing on right now. As she took a drink of her water, she was more preoccupied with how her throat stung when she swallowed. “Oh, crap,” she said quietly.

“Hmm?” Francisco asked.

Megan sighed. “I think I might be coming down with something,” she said. “I kind of have a sore throat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Francisco replied, sounding so earnest it was almost a little comical. “Are you okay? We should be there in, like, 30 minutes.”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Megan told him. “I don’t feel bad, honestly. It’s just that ‘barely starting to get sick’ feeling.”

“Oh, that,” he said. “I call that the ‘I will be sick tomorrow’ feeling.”

“Exactly,” Megan agreed. “Right now, I’m just a little…hazy.” She was hit with a sudden sneeze, covering the “ehhhhhh-shoooooo-uhhhhhhh!” with steepled hands.

“Salud,” Francisco said. “Do you think it’s a cold?”

“Yeah, probably,” Megan said, sniffing.

In general, Megan didn’t mind getting colds, but she preferred them when she was by herself. Now, her still-sleepy head was trying to tally how many times she and Francisco had kissed that day.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I know you only have a few weeks off before shooting starts, I don’t wanna mess up our vacation.”

“It’s silly to apologize about it,” Francisco said. “First, it’s not your fault if you’re sick. And two, try not to think about it like a vacation, okay? That puts too much pressure on everything to be great all the time. For me, it’s just home, and I get to have you in it for three months. There will still be lots of time for good days even if a few of them aren’t so fun.”

“Okay,” Megan said. She rubbed her nose.

Ever since they first met, Francisco had been good at putting Megan at ease, making everything about their extraordinary interactions feel beautifully normal. While she wouldn’t say she suddenly felt chill about the idea of getting sick on their very first day in Mexico City, at least she was able to find a little perspective.

Francisco was right—not the end of the world. Whatever the next days held in store, they’d get it figured out.

[ichixshiro14]

Yessss I'm so excited for another story with these two!! And this time she gets to give it to him?? You're spoiling us 🤣😈❤️

[angora48]

Thanks, @ichixshiro14! It's been so long since I wrote about them, I'm glad somebody remembered and is happy to see more!

Part 2!

 

Francisco’s house didn’t scream “movie star,” but as soon as they pulled up, Megan knew she liked it. “Ooh, pretty,” she murmured, peering out the car window.

Francisco grinned at her. “Come on,” he said happily. “Let me show you around!”

Inside, the house had an open, airy design, with good-sized rooms and pleasant air flow. Francisco had an ecstatically comfortable couch and a semi-organized air of light clutter on most surfaces. There were books and movies everywhere, a script was sitting open on the end table, and he had a mismatched assortment of small storage bins and baskets to collect various odds and ends. There were notes taped to the walls in different spots, like an urgent “LLAVES!!” by the front door (a.k.a. KEYS!!)

As they poked their heads into the cozy-looking guest room, furnished all in warm colors, Megan said, “I should probably sleep id here until I get over this cold.”

“What? No, you’re not,” Francisco told her.

“I dod’t want to get you sick!” Megan pointed out. While she knew firsthand just how nummy Francisco could be with a cold, I don’t want to get you sick seemed like baseline girlfriend behavior. 

Of course, the ship might’ve already sailed on that front—again with the kissing—but she wanted to at least try.

“Right—sure,” Francisco said, “but you sleep in my bedroom. I’ll stay here until you feel better.” As if to say Period!, he dropped his bag in the guest room.

Francisco’s bedroom was nice. The bed looked invitingly comfy, and Megan loved the matching dark wood on the dresser and nightstand. “I bean, if you’re gonna force be to stay in here…” she teased.

“Of course I am,” Francisco replied, kissing her cheek as he set her bag in the corner. “You okay? Are you ready to eat, or do you want to rest?”

“I’be good,” Megan told him, sniffling. Her throat was starting to ache a little more when she swallowed, and she was feeling a bit stuffed up. “You know me, I-I…” She turned away, stifling a sneeze into her shoulder. “hehhhhhh-shhhnnnfff!” She sniffed again, smiling a little sheepishly. “I cad always eat!”

“Good, me too,” Francisco said, hitting her with one of his more dazzling smiles.

He led her to the kitchen. Like everywhere else in the house, it had light-clutter vibes, but it was clear that Francisco knew where exactly everything was as he set to work on dinner.

When Francisco had been in LA to shoot Semi-Fixable, he was busy working for much of the time, but there had been days off here and there, where he’d demonstrated that he was a much better cook than Megan. She was okay if she had a recipe to follow to the letter, but Francisco was a culinary improviser, busking something that tasted great from whatever ingredients were on hand. Now, she gladly deferred to him in the kitchen while she sat at the table, picking out some good cooking music on her phone.

Since there wasn’t much on hand after being away for two weeks, it wound up being a pretty simple meal, but that was fine. Despite what Megan had said, she wasn’t super hungry, and even with the nap in the car, she still felt tired.

“hihhhhhh-shooooo-ehhhhhh!” she sneezed. Sniffling, she grabbed a tissue from the box they’d thought to grab out of the bathroom during the tour of the house.

“Salud,” Francisco said, scratching her back affectionately. “Do you want to sleep after this?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Megan said. “Hopefully it’s just a little cold add I cad get over it pretty fast.” She took a drink of water, wincing.

They finished eating, and Megan headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After she brushed her teeth, she said, “Ahhh,” trying to get a look at her throat in the mirror, but that didn’t work all that well without a tongue depressor.

She didn’t really look sick at all, which was good. While Megan knew that Francisco was ungodly levels of hot when he had a cold, she was a little apprehensive about him seeing her with one. She’d caught his cold after the Oscars, but it was right before he’d flown back to Mexico, so he’d seen her when she was just a little sick, not like full-blown sick.

For the second time, Megan hoped she could get over this quickly and without many headaches, both literal and metaphorical.

Francisco was waiting for her in his bedroom. He’d cleared off the nightstand to make room for a bottled water, the Kleenex box, and Megan’s ibuprofen bottle. There was a wastebasket sitting beside the bed.

“I can go shopping tomorrow,” he told her as she came in. “Is there anything special you need for your cold?”

“No, this all looks good,” Megan replied. “Thadks.”

Francisco tucked her hair behind her ear as he kissed her on the temple. “Sleep well,” he told her. “¡Buenas noches!”

“Thadks,” Megan said. Her nose started to tickle again, and she reached for a tissue. “ehhhhh-chioooooo! Mmb—you too,” she added, sniffing.

She switched on the lamp as Francisco turned off the overhead light, shutting the door behind him. With a yawn, Megan clumsily undressed and put on her pajamas, then climbed into bed.

The bed was even comfier than it looked. Megan and Francisco both liked their mattresses on the softer side, and she cozied gratefully onto the pillow, pulling a light sheet over herself. Turning off the lamp, Megan hugged the pillow, sniffling a little as she closed her eyes.

[ichixshiro14]

So sweet!! Of course that ship has sailed, but they can try 🤣😈

[angora48]

Well, Megan's gonna try, anyway! Francisco doesn't pay too much attention to that sort of thing. 😏

Part 3! Dialogue in italics means it's in Spanish.

 

Even though they’d spent two days driving back from his parents’ house, Francisco got up early the next morning. He liked to stay busy, so he got ready for the day—quietly, so Megan could sleep—then grabbed a few shopping bags and headed outside, walking briskly down the sidewalk.

“Hey, Francisco!” Eduardo called as he stepped inside the corner store. “You want a coffee?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Francisco replied. “I just need to pick up a few things first. I brought my girlfriend back from visiting my folks, and my fridge is almost empty! I need to up my boyfriend game.”

Eduardo laughed as Francisco walked over to the shelves to pick up some essentials. “This is the gringa girlfriend, right?”

“That’s her,” Francisco said. “She’s still sleeping, so I have a limited window to get it together.”

In Francisco’s neighborhood, he was just Francisco. People knew him, abuelitas scolded him, and he got shit-talk just like everyone else. Every now and then, if he was shopping and somebody asked him for a selfie or something, Eduardo would give him crap about it. Francisco liked that.

“Here you go, Mr. Celebrity,” Eduardo said, handing Francisco his coffee as he paid for his groceries. “You better keep that girlfriend happy. With looks like yours, you’re not gonna get another one!”

“Thanks,” Francisco replied, grinning. “We can’t all be as pretty as you!”

That got another laugh out of Eduardo, and he slapped his heavy paunch. “The ladies are lining up around the block to see me!”

After a quick stop at the drugstore and visiting a few outdoor stalls, Francisco got back home. He didn’t hear Megan stirring at all, so he put his earbuds in while he set to work in the kitchen. He got started on a few caldos first—a chicken pozole and a soup with peppers and chayote. Better to have options for Megan when she wasn’t feeling well.

Francisco chopped vegetables, bobbing his head to the music as he waited for the water to boil. He gathered some spices and cut up the chicken. Swiveling to check the stove, he nearly ran straight into Megan.

“¡Ay, sorry!” he exclaimed, removing one of his earbuds. “I didn’t hear you coming. How did you sleep?”

“Okay,” Megan said, but she didn’t sound very enthusiastic. She was barefoot, still dressed in her pajamas, and her dark curly hair was cutely messy.

Francisco leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but Megan waved him back as she gave a little gasp. “ahhhhh…hihhhhhh-chiooooooo!” she sneezed, covering her mouth with both hands. She sniffled, giving Francisco a sheepish look, and he thought her cheeks looked a bit pink.

“Salud,” he said, putting his arm around her and giving her a squeeze. “Feeling pretty sick, ¿no?”

“Kide of,” Megan admitted, sniffling again. Her voice sounded scratchy.

“Then you sit down,” Francisco told her. “I’ll start making breakfast.”

The corner of Megan’s mouth crooked up in a sweet little smile as she took a seat at the table. “So all this,” she said, nodding to various the chopped-up ingredients, “dud of it is breakfast?”

“No, this is for later,” Francisco explained. Hastily, he dumped everything for the pozole in its pot and started sautéing the chayote, then switched gears, heading to the fridge for eggs.

Megan sneezed into her hand again, a strong “ehhhhhh-SHOOOO-uhhhhhh!” She sniffed, rubbing her nose, and said, “Crap, I should’ve brought the—”

“You need tissues?” Francisco asked. “It’s okay, I got more.” He reached into one of his shopping bags and pulled out a fresh box. “We can keep this one in here, so you don’t have to carry the same box everywhere.”

“Gra-aacious…” Megan said, trailing off into a “hehhhhhh…” Francisco held out the tissue box, and she grabbed one just in time. “ihhhhhh-shiuhhhhhhh!”

Francisco tsked lightly, brushing her cheek with his thumb as he kissed the top of her head. “So much sneezing!” he remarked. “That can make you more tired, I think, when you’re sick and you just can’t stop sneezing or coughing.”

“It, um, it wasn’t really bothering be that buch last dight,” Megan replied, wiping her nose with the tissue. “Like, I dod’t thidk by dose was keeping be up or addything.”

It was definitely bothering her now—she sounded badly stuffed up. “Yeah,” Francisco said, “but I meant the other kind of tired, not like sleepy. More like, how do you say—like ‘worn out’? Like just, ‘Ay, I’m so tired from sneezing all the time.’”

“Oh, got it,” Megan said. “ehh-ehhhhhhh…” She cupped her hands over her mouth. “uhhhhhh-SHIOOOOO! Mmb—I dod’t thidk I’be there yet, but give be a day or two, add we’ll see.”

Francisco might have gotten a bit overzealous in trying to make two caldos and breakfast at the same time. He was busy making salsa verde for the pozole while sautéing peppers for the chayote caldo while trying not to burn the eggs. 

“We can just stay here at the house,” he told Megan, over his shoulder. “We don’t have to do anything busy right now. We’ll eat, and then maybe spend the day on the couch watching movies.”

Megan sighed a little. “I feel bad,” she admitted.

Francisco divided the eggs onto two plates, grabbing some cheese and a little of the salsa as he brought it over to the table. “I know,” he said. “I can tell.”

“Oh, I didded’t bead—” she started. Clearing her throat, she said, “I beant I feel bad that we cad’t do addything fud because of be. I doh you wadted t-- to show be a-around…” She paused, drawing in a few shaky breaths as she reached for another tissue. “ehhhhh-CHIAHHHHH!” She glanced away from Francisco, wiping her dose. “Add we’d talked about getting together with Arturo….”

“Hey, we already talked about this!” Francisco told her, turning back to the stove to add some crema to the chayote caldo. “No sorrys for being sick. And anyway, I love watching movies. I could do it every day.”

“hihhhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHH!” Megan sneezed again, turning away from the table and pressing her nose into the crook of her arm. “You doh what I bead,” she said, sniffling.

“I know what you mean,” Francisco agreed. “I just don’t accept it!” He flashed her a grin. Both the soups could be left on their own to cook now; he returned to the table and dug into his eggs.

“You bake it so hard to beat byself up,” Megan said, and although her tone was teasing, Francisco frowned.

“To what?” he asked.

“Shit, sorry!” Megan said. She grabbed a tissue and turned away again, blowing her nose as quietly as she could. “To beat myself up,” she repeated. It must have been clear from Francisco’s expression that he still didn’t understand, because she added, “Uh, to criticize byself.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Francisco replied. “Other people criticize us enough without doing it to ourselves.”

Megan looked like she was going to respond, then stopped. When she spoke, it was with a soft smile. “Dab you, getting id the way of by self-criticism with your dub logic,” she teased.

Francisco could understand it—in Hollywood, rejection and criticism were everywhere, and it was easy to internalize all that. But it killed him a little when Megan made “jokes” about her talent or her looks or other things. She was so great, and he worried sometimes that she really didn’t see it.

“It’s what I do,” he answered, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

[ichixshiro14]

Ahhh he's so sweet!!! I love how confused he gets when he doesn't understand an odd colloquialism - he reminds me of a dog cocking its head quizzically ☺️ He doomed himself by grabbing her hand, though 😈🤣

Edited July 10 by ichixshiro14

[angora48]

Yep, @ichixshiro14! Francisco is touchy-feely by nature, and Megan being sick doesn't even give him pause. You love to see it!

Part 4!

 

After breakfast, Megan cleaned herself up a little, grabbing a shower and getting dressed. She wasn’t full-on “stay in bed” sick, so it would’ve felt weird to stay in her pajamas, even if the shorts and top she put on didn’t quite seem right either.

After growing up in Pennsylvania, it sometimes felt a little weird to catch colds in L.A., or now in Mexico. They felt a lot more–well, not right, but maybe more fitting in a place with four proper seasons, where you could wear comfy hoodies and snuggle under blankets with hot tea in the fall or winter. In balmier climates, there wasn’t as much of an established sick-day protocol.

“hihhhhhhh-ehhhhhh-SHOOOOOO!” Megan sneezed, steepling her hands over her nose and mouth. She didn’t feel terrible, but she definitely felt sneezy; her nose was really sensitive right now.

Nice sneezes so far, stronger than the soft breathy ones from yesterday but not the super-hard kind that hurt her throat. If Megan were in her own apartment, she’d have the makings of a pretty nice day of lounging around. She just wished she could shake her lingering self-consciousness about being sick in front of Francisco.

“ahhhhhh…hehhhhhh-SHIUHHHHHH!” Into her hand this time.

With a wet sniffle, Megan realized there wasn’t much she could do about the self-consciousness. Francisco was being a doll about everything, like he usually was, but she still couldn’t help but blush a little every time she sneezed around him.

Francisco had apparently bought multiple Kleenex boxes, because when Megan came out to the living room, he was setting a new one on the end table. He’d already moved a wastebasket next to the couch. “Do you want a pillow or a blanket?” he asked.

Megan shook her head. “I’be o-okay…” she insisted, covering her mouth with her next “ehhhhhh-choooooo!”

“Salud,” he said, kissing her temple as he put his arm around her. “What do you think for a movie? What’s your favorite?”

Even though she felt kind of awkward about it, it gave Megan a pleasant little flip in his stomach that Francisco was still so touchy-feely when she was sick. For his sake, she wanted to avoid him catching it if possible, but she loved how little he seemed to care.

As she felt his light caress down her arm, Megan must’ve given a little shiver, because Francisco asked, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket? I can get—”

“Doh, I’be fine—really,” Megan assured him. “Okay, so you said favorite bovie?”

“Of course!” he replied. “We have to watch the best.”

Megan had always felt that “favorite movie” was an impossible concept, because there was no way to have just one favorite movie. But for the present circumstances, she still instantly knew what her answer was.

“All right,” she said. “I’be warding you, this is a little cordy. Bu-uhhhh…” she clapped a hand over her mouth. “hihhhhh-SHIAAHHHHH! Mmb…” She sniffed, rubbing her nose. “But there’s this verszhud of A Little Pridcess frob the dideties….”

Francisco’s face lit up. “Alfonso Cuarón!” he exclaimed.

Oh, duh—Francisco was a Cuarón fan, of course he knew about it. “Right,” Megan said.

“Not corny at all,” Francisco said. “Here, I have it on DVD!”

Francisco’s DVD and BluRay collection was spread across a few different cabinets and shelves, plus random small stacks scattered here and there, so it took him a little digging. But eventually he found the box and held it up for Megan, the familiar image of Sara Crewe on the front.

“This was the first film Alfonso Cuarón ever made in Hollywood,” Francisco said, popping the disc in the BluRay player. “He does so many different things, I love it. This film is nothing like Y tu mamá también, which is so different from Children of Men, and then Gravity is so different from that!”

“I love that about his work too,” Megan said. She sat down on the couch, grabbing a Kleenex to dab at her runny nose. “Sobe directors are idstadtly distidct—everything they do, y-you…” She paused, reaching for another Kleenex as her breath started to hitch. “ehhhhh…huhhhhhh…ihhhhh-SHOOOOO-uhhhhh!”

She wiped her nose, stifling a cough. “Mmb—you doh it’s theb right away,” she went on. “But he-he’s worked ihh-ihhhd…aaahhhhhh-chioooooo!” She sniffed. “...Id a lot of differedt gedres, add he’s good at all of theb.”

“Salud,” Francisco said. “Yes, you’re right.” He joined Megan on the couch, putting his arm around her.

“Oh, you baybe dod’t wadt to do that,” Megan said, cringing a little internally.

Francisco tsked at her. “Fine, but I think you worry too much,” he said. He kissed her on the cheek, then settled onto the opposite end of the couch, leaving a little space between them.

The notion of cuddling with Francisco when she had a cold seemed simultaneously awkward and alluring, but for now, Megan was erring on the side of have a tiny bit of self-restraint, Megan. They were expecting him to get called in for some more last-minute pre-production stuff before shooting started, so he didn’t really need her and her germs cozying up to him.

Megan had probably seen A Little Princess at least ten times. She could recite her favorite scenes by heart, and she knew that the ending wrecked her every time. 

As the film started, Megan snuck a glance at Francisco. No doubt he would’ve indulged her no matter what, but she loved that he didn’t think this pick was too childish, too girly, or whatever. He was already absorbed in watching the screen, all too happy to be watching A Little Princess with her.

Okay—self-conscious or not, it looked like this was going to be a pretty nice day of lounging around too.

[ichixshiro14]

Omg The Little Princess was one of my favorite books growing up (a long with Heidi and Pollyana)!!! Thanks for the hit of nostalgia ❤️❤️❤️ I can't get over how cute they are together!! 😍

[angora48]

Thanks as always for the comments, @ichixshiro14--reading them makes me happy! I love a good "comfort nostalgia while sick" moment, so I thought this would be a perfect movie choice for Megan, especially when you throw in the Alfonso Cuarón aspect for Francisco.

Part 5. Spoilers for the end of A Little Princess (which is pretty different from the book, btw!)

 

Megan was on the edge of her seat. Sara Crewe was face-to-face with her father, who she’d thought was killed in action. She was clinging to him, pleading with him, but he had amnesia and couldn’t remember her.

Papa, please!

Papa, tell them!

The police dragged her away screaming, Capt. Crewe apologizing to this wretched girl who insisted that she knew him. Sara was hauled outside in the driving rain.

And then a look of realization dawned on Capt. Crewe. He rushed out into the night.

Sara!

She broke free, running, leaping into his arms, both of them sobbing. The music swelled.

Papa! Papa, don’t ever leave me!

Megan already had a runny nose and a sore throat, but now she was crying hard, ugly crying all the way. She cried so hard it irritated her throat and she started to cough.

Suddenly, Francisco’s hand was on her shoulder. “Hey,” he said in a soft, soothing voice as he paused the film, “are you okay?” He pressed his other hand against her forehead.

“Oh god,” Megan murmured, quickly raising a hand to cover her nose as she reached for a tissue. “Doh, I-I’be fide. I always cry at the edd. Good crying, I probbise!”

As she wiped her nose, she was hit with a strong itch and buried a messy “huhhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHH!” in the Kleenex.

“You sure?” Francisco asked. He caught his lower lip between his teeth.

“I’be sure,” Megan insisted through her tears.

Wiping her nose again, she allowed herself to be gathered up in Francisco’s arms. He held her through the last scene in the movie, softly rubbing her back.

When the credits started to roll, Megan sniffled, partly from her cold and partly from the emotion. “I love it so buch,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I dod’t doh what it is about father-daughter relationships. They get be every tibe.”

“It’s great,” Francisco agreed. “I really like it when a main character makes everyone’s lives a little better just by being themselves. I think in real life, there are lots of people like that in different ways, but we don’t really notice. It takes a story in a film for us to see it.”

Megan smiled. “I like that.” She cupped her hands over her mouth. “ehhhhhhh-SHIOOOOO! ihhhhhhh-chiuhhhhhhhh!”

“Salud,” Francisco said, giving her a warm squeeze as he kissed her temple. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, really,” she told him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Okay.” After one more kiss, this time on the top of her head, Francisco disentangled himself from Megan and hopped up from the couch. 

He had made, not one, but two different kinds of soup that morning. Now, he took one of them and ladled portions into two bowls. Megan would’ve gotten up to the kitchen table, but by the time she finished blowing her nose, Francisco had brought a tray over to the couch.

“Here we go,” he said, setting down the tray and handing one of the bowls to Megan. “This is pozole verde. It’s chicken and…and, um, I don’t know how you say it in English, but it’s like dried maize? And then it’s mixed with salsa verde, and you can put what you want on it.” He nodded to the tray, where he had an assortment of garnishes.

“Looks great–I’ll do ciladdtro add aahh-avoc-cado…” Megan said, managing to get the sentence out before she had to turn and bury a “hihhhhhh-SHIAHHHHHH!” in her shoulder. “Could you put theb od?” she asked, clearing her throat. “I probably shoulded’t be touching theb.”

“Sure,” Francisco said, garnishing her soup with avocado and cilantro. He added the same to his own bowl, plus some radish slices.

“Thadk you,” Megan told him, smiling as he swallowed his first spoonful of pozole.

“I know, it tastes fantastic, right?” Francisco replied. “I made a good one.”

“Doh, I bead, thadks for everything,” Megan said. “Thadk you for giving be your bed—”

“Of course, it’s better than the other one,” Francisco explained. “Maybe that’s not right for guests, but they’re not here all the time, right?”

Megan plowed on. “Thadk you for baking b-beee…” She turned away, steadying her bowl with one hand as she sneezed a hard “ehhhhhhh-CHIUHHHHH!” into the other. “...For baking be two soups.”

“You can’t eat just the same one all the time!” Francisco pointed out. “That’s too boring.”

“Thadk for watching A Little Pridcess with me,” Megan went on.

“No, thank you!” Francisco insisted. “It’s a great movie, and it’s been a while since I saw it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey, you dod’t get to be super attedtive add caring, add-- add thed…” She coughed into her fist. “Add thed act it like it’s duthing--” She coughed again, cupping both hands over her mouth.

Francisco tsked lightly, reaching across her to grab her water from the end table. He offered it to her, and Megan took a few careful sips while Francisco rubbed her back.

The tickle in her throat finally subsided, but it left Megan’s nose feeling extra runny. She sniffled and set her water back down, exchanging it for a tissue. “The point is, you’re being very sweet add thoughtful add caring,” she told him firmly. “So let be thadk you for that.”

“Okay, fine,” Francisco replied, squeezing her in a comforting side hug. He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “You’re welcome. But you know, you remember how I had a cold when we met? You were so nice and took care of me, so I’m just following your example.”

Gee, I dunno, do I remember you having a cold when we met? Megan thought, amused. It wasn’t a fair comparison, because being around a sick sexy actor was the exact opposite of a chore for her.

“Thadk you addyway,” she told him. She drew in a quivery, hitching breath. “ahhhhh…hehhhhh…ehhhhhh-SHOOOOO!”

“Okay,” Francisco acquiesced. “And salud.”

He turned, resting his back against the arm of the couch and putting his feet up on the cushion. Megan did the same on her end. They sat with their bowls resting against their tucked-up knees and their feet meeting in the middle. Francisco tapped his foot against Megan’s, and when she looked up, he grinned at her.

Megan grinned back, then raised her bowl to her lips to drink some of the broth.

[ichixshiro14]

I'm glad my commenting can make you happy, it's some small recompense for all the joy I get reading your fics ☺️ And the comfort nostalgia helped for me as well since I've been battling the illness that shall not be named for the last two weeks, so thanks for that ❤️ I'm going to go find my battered copy when I have the energy to! Also, playing footsie was an adorable touch 😍

[angora48]

Oof, hope you feel better soon! Glad I could offer some "medicinal" sickfic while you've been going through it. 😉

Part 6.

 

Megan didn’t doubt that Francisco’s pozole was amazing, but she felt too stuffed-up to really taste it. It must have had some good spice to it, because it made her nose run. Still, it was cozy and warm, and it was the perfect thing to fill her up when she wasn’t all that hungry.

“What do you think?” Francisco asked, taking her empty bowl from her and setting it back on the tray. “Another movie?”

“Sounds good,” Megan agreed, sniffling as she rubbed her nose. “You pick this tibe.”

“No, no, no,” Francisco chided. He stood up, pausing to kiss the top of her head before he moved to the kitchen. “We’re only doing what you want today!”

Megan turned around so she could see him as he carried the tray to the sink. “Well, I wadt you to pick the bovie,” she teased. “S-so the-- ere…” She sneezed a hard “aaaahhhhh-SHUHHHHHH! hihhhhh-chioooooooo!” into her hands.

Francisco finished rinsing off their dishes. “Salud,” he said. “Then I guess I need to pick a good one, ¿no?” He put the garnishes for the pozole back in the fridge.

He probably spent close to ten minutes consulting his film collection, muttering to himself in Spanish as he deliberated over DVDs and BluRays. “Hey, doh pressure!” Megan told him, somewhere around the five-minute mark. “You doh be, I like all kides of stuff.”

“Yeah, I know,” Francisco replied, not looking up from his collection as he gave her a distracted wave of his hand. 

He finally settled on Atomic Blonde, and Megan wasted no time in assuring him it was an excellent choice. “Watching Charlize Therod be a badass is a key tedet of by religiod,” she said.

“What?” Francisco asked, frowning.

Note to self: maybe don’t try to get clever in your boyfriend’s second language when you’re stuffed up. Don’t make him work any harder to understand you than he already is!

“Ih-ihhhhhh…” Of course Megan’s nose interrupted her before she could clarify; she grabbed a Kleenex. “ahhhhhhh-SHOOOOOOO! Mmb…” She sniffed. “I bead, it’s great. I love to watch Charlize Therod beat guys up.”

“Got it—me too,” Francisco said, nodding. He settled back onto the couch beside her and started the movie.

With the first lines of dialogue, Spanish subtitles popped up on the screen. “Is that easier for you?” Megan asked. “Watching with the subtitles?” He’d put them on for A Little Princess too.

“Do they distract you?” Francisco asked, reaching for the remote. “I can turn them off, it’s fine.”

“Doh,” Megan told him. “Doh, leave it.” She sniffled, dabbing at her nose with a tissue.

“I don’t read them all the time,” Francisco explained. “It just helps if I don’t understand something, or if they talk very fast or there’s a hard accent.”

“Totally,” Megan replied. “Keep theb od, absolu-luuutely…haaahhhhhh-shuhhhhhhhh!” She buried the sneeze in her shoulder. “We can do that whed we watch stuff id LA too, you doh. Bost addything on a streabing service ought to have Spadish subtitles.”

He smiled at her, nodding. “Okay, that would be good.”

It bugged Megan that she hadn’t thought of how mentally tiring it could be for Francisco to keep up with a movie or a show in English. It was just like her jokes or idioms that didn’t make sense to him—Francisco’s English was so good that Megan could forget that it was also work for him, that constant extra effort to translate in his head. She needed to be better about that.

Atomic Blonde: East Berlin at the end of the Cold War, spy intrigue plus killer action, Charlize Theron being a BAMF and James McAvoy being a fascinating wildcard. All the elements were there, and it was a film tailor-made to keep you enthralled. But somehow, Megan started to feel her eyelids getting heavy.

They were maybe 20 minutes into the movie when Francisco paused it. “Hmmb?” Megan wondered, a little startled by the sudden silence.

She glanced at Francisco, who was looking at her with an indulgent smile. “I think you’re too tired,” he pointed out.

Megan rubbed her nose. “It’s dot the bovie, hodestly!” she told him. “It’s really good, I-I juhhhh…” She was hit, not with a sneeze, but with an enormous yawn.

“It’s okay,” Francisco said. “Do you want to sleep?”

“For a little bit,” Megan admitted, sniffling. Her head was starting to ache again too. “Just a quick dap, aaa-add thed I’ll…” Okay, it was a sneeze this time. “huhhhhhh-CHIAHHHHHHH!” She buried her nose in a Kleenex. “Thed I’ll be good to go.”

“That’s fine,” Francisco replied. “Do you need anything?”

Megan shook her head, stifling another yawn as she stood up. Her legs felt a bit wobbly, but she told herself that was just because she’d been sitting on the couch for so long. “I’be just gudda use the bathroob before I—oh, wait, could you take by water to the bedroob?”

“Sure,” Francisco said, hopping up. He grabbed her water glass and swept past her, reaching the bedroom before Megan’s drowsy ass even made it out of the living room.

In the bathroom, Megan splashed a little water on her face. Earlier, she'd felt sick but okay, but now it was like she’d hit a wall—she was really tired, and she felt just a bit woozy. Maybe this cold was hitting her harder than she thought.

Megan sort of stumbled as she stepped out of the bathroom, tripping dumbly over her own feet. She caught herself against the wall. “Hey, are you okay?” asked Francisco, who was back in the living room with a script in his hand.

“Yeah,” Megan said. “Yeah, fide, I just—”

But Francisco had already gotten up, dropping the script on the end table and hurrying over to her side. “Here,” he said, slipping a supportive arm around her waist. “Let me help you.”

“I’be okay, really,” Megan insisted. “I was just be-hiihhhhh-SHOOOOO-uhhhhhh!” Luckily, she managed to turn away from Francisco before (mostly) pressing the sneeze into the back of her hand. “Just being cl-clubsy…” Her nose was still tickling. “ehhhh-hihhhhhhh-CHIUHHHHH!”

She may or may not have swooned into him. Slightly. God help her.

“Shh,” Francisco murmured. “It’s all right. Come on.”

They walked together to the bedroom. Megan’s head was starting to swim. Francisco sat her down on the bed, then made her drink some water and take a couple ibuprofen before guiding her head down onto the pillow.

“Sleep,” he instructed, feeling her forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re feeling very sick.”

“It’s really dot that bad,” Megan tried to tell him, but as she sputtered into a cough, she probably didn’t seem all that convincing.

“Whatever,” he replied. “Sleep.” He bent down to kiss her forehead, then got up, shutting the door behind him.

And before Megan knew it, she was out.

[ichixshiro14]

Awww that was so sweet!! I can definitely relate to hitting that wall with Megan lol, it's great that she has Francisco to push past her stubbornness ❤️ I haven't seen that movie, def going to check it out now! Is it weird that Francisco reminds me a bit like a more glamorous Fez from That 70s Show? Such a sweet character, and always getting confused by phrases. Thanks for continuing 😘

[angora48]

Thank you so much, @ichixshiro14! hehe, personally, Francisco is loosely modeled after Diego Luna, while still being his own character (smile like sunshine, right?) But whatever works for you! 😁As long as he's sweet, charismatic, and often sneezing, right?

Okay, so Francisco is obviously going to get this cold--we've all seen the hugs and cheek kisses, right?--but as I was writing, I realized that it was going to happen in the next story. "Two-Soup Love" is meant to end here, and you'll hopefully get why when you read it. We'll pick up on this same cold (with contagion!) in story #6. Never fear, though! Once I realized I wasn't going to fit the whole thing into one story, I held off on posting this one until I was pretty far into writing the next one, so I could roll pretty seamlessly from one to another. I'm on the last chapter of story #6 right now and will start posting it sometime next week!

With that, here's part 7. Thanks so much for reading "Two-Soup Love"!

 

Someone was shaking Megan’s shoulder, very gently. She blinked sleepily, trying to open her eyes.

“haaaahhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHHHH!” The sneeze burst out of her, and she lifted her hand to her face too late for it to be of any use.

“Salud,” came Francisco’s voice, lightly tsking as he rubbed her shoulder. “I brought you some soup.”

“Oh—Fradcisco,” Megan mumbled, wiping her nose with the side of her hand. She still felt groggy as she propped herself up on her elbows. “Ub, that’s okay. You dod’t have to get be addything, I cad wait ‘til didder.”

He was starting to come into focus. He sat on the edge of the bed, a tray on the nightstand beside him. The lamp was on, but very dimly, not bright enough to hurt Megan’s eyes or exacerbate her headache.

Francisco was smiling softly at her. “It is dinner,” he told her. “It’s almost 8 p.m.”

“Mmb, wh-what??” Megan said. She fumbled herself up to a sitting position. “Crap, I’be sorry, I odly beant to dap for ad hour or two. I—” She broke off, coughing into her cupped hands.

“No, shhhh,” Francisco assured her. “You needed it, clearly. But you need to eat too, so that’s why I woke you up.” He reached for the steaming bowl on the tray. “This is chayote soup. It’s like a kind of squash, and it has different peppers in it and lots of cream. It’s very good, I already ate some.”

Megan pushed the pillow behind her back, and Francisco handed her the bowl. “Could you pass be a-a tissue?” she asked, trailing off into a breathy “hihhhhhhh-shiaahhhhhhh!” She sniffed. “I deed to blow by dose, or I wod’t be able to taste it at all.”

Francisco grabbed the Kleenex box on the nightstand and held it out to her. Megan had just lifted a tissue to her nose when she sneezed again—”ihhhhhhhh-SHIUHHHHHH!” She grabbed a second Kleenex, then a third to be safe.

Once she’d given her nose a good blow, Megan tried the chayote soup. It was creamy and spicy, and other than some soft chunks of squash floating in it, everything had been smoothly pureed, which felt soothing on her throat.

“Okay?” Francisco asked. 

Megan nodded. “It’s really good,” she told him, sniffling.

“Good,” he replied. “I hope you’re all right now. I should have made you lie down after you cried so much at the movie.”

“I told you, I always do that!” Megan reminded him.

“Fine, maybe it was normal,” he said, “but it’s not easy to cry a lot when you feel so sick. No wonder you were tired.”

Megan smiled a little. “I’be okay,” she said. “Thadk you f-for…aahhhhhh-CHIOOOOO!” She sneezed into her hand. Sniffling, she looked back at him. “Thadk you for being so sweet.”

“Again with ‘thank you!’” Francisco teased. “If you’re not saying sorry literally just for sleeping when you’re sick, you’re thanking me just for doing basic things.”

Yeah, right. Megan had an excellent memory when it came to being sick, and not once had a guy ever made her two kinds of soup in one day.

“Fide,” she replied. “I wod’t thadk you addybore. I’ll just say…I love you.”

If she’d had her guard up more, Megan might have tried to play it off, claim that she was still out of it and didn’t know what she was saying. Hell, come tomorrow morning, if she panicked, she might pretend she had no memory of this conversation.

But her guard wasn’t up. She was tired and runny-nosed and messy-haired, and Francisco was sitting on the bed looking at her while the bowl she was holding warmed her hands. So she didn’t back away.

Francisco’s eyebrows were raised in a soft, affectionate expression of surprise, and Megan repeated, “I love you.”

His grin was so bright, it was a wonder it didn’t make Megan sneeze. “Yo también,” he said. Me too.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Now eat your soup,” he told her. “I think you’re too sick for Atomic Blonde tonight, but maybe we can watch it tomorrow if you don’t feel so bad.”

“It’s a plad,” Megan agreed, rubbing her nose as she snuck a shy look at him.

Francisco moved closer to the foot of the bed, so he could stretch out a little without sitting on Megan’s feet. In the soft light of the lamp, he quietly and cheerfully talked about nothing while Megan ate chayote soup, enjoying the warm glow of his company.

[ichixshiro14]

Oh yeah, I can see Diego as well 😜 Ahhh I love them so much!! 😍 What a wonderfully caring, domestic scene - and I love that Megan allowed herself to be vulnerable!! It makes sense to continue in a new story, I look forward to reading it! ☺️❤️