#**I hope you ordered an extra helping of 'Lynn stfu' :D**

[cinderacequeen]

Héctor being overprotective is good, but also consider: his grandkids being protective over him. The Riveras are a very tightly knit group, after all.

Tiny Miguelito football tackled Ernesto to get him away from his Mamá Imelda. 

Even while being held hostage and knew antagonizing the bad guy was the last thing he should be doing, he called out Ernesto for murdering his Papá Héctor and stealing his songs, so we know that Miguel has this same overprotectiveness!

There’s no doubt in my mind that he and the rest of Papá Héctor’s beloved grandbabies would stick up for him, even if he believes he doesn’t deserve to be protected. His grandkids form the ultimate Héctor Protection Squad!

Most likely there’s some irate de la Cruz fans still around in the Lands of the Dead and Living who don’t want to believe their idol is even capable of murdering anyone, that he has had amazing talent all along, and that the Riveras are just slandering his reputation out of jealousy or for attention.

Miguel, Rosa, and Abel defend their great-great grandfather’s legacy vehemently. They deny these accusations, saying that their Papá Héctor was the one who has had everything stolen from him by that overhyped butt-chin (they’re the ones who started spreading that nickname around- though the adults had a much more colorful name-and it definitely found it’s way across the marigold bridge).

They get ridiculed and teased, even threatened but they stand firmly together with the rest of their family, tall and strong, as they continue dispersing the truth and making sure their ancestor’s story and legend is heard loud and clear. 

Meanwhile, Papá Héctor is out one day with Victoria, doing some shopping and bonding with her. It doesn’t take long for them to come across a group of scathing Ernesto supporters. Victoria bristles when they approach them, ready for a fight but her abuelito, bless his pure and pacifist heart, calmly takes her by the hand to lead her away with a soft, “Come, mija.” She’s reluctant but follows anyway, throwing glares at the group.

However, when their backs are turned, one of them picks up a large rock. They chuck it hard. It hits Papá Héctor in the back of the head, dislodging his skull. He trips as he fumbles for it and falls into the dirt. Victoria shakes off the shock of the attack, crying out and rushes to check on her grandfather.

Papá Héctor is emotionally hurt, of course-it was to be expected so soon after Ernesto’s downfall-but he puts on a brave face for his nieta, not wanting to make a big deal about it, making things worse, and getting her involved. 

He’s dealt with much of this sort of behavior when he was one of The Forgotten for 96 years, so he was willing to put up with it again. His tactic was just to ignore them and carry on with his day.

However, being away for so long from his family made him forget that the Riveras-especially the women-do not back down so easily if one of their own is being pushed around. 

Before Papá Héctor knew it, Victoria is yanking off her boot and whacking as many of the culprits as hard and fast as she could while yelling slurs and insults at them. 

They were not expecting this sudden and terrifying onslaught of perfectly crafted leather bludgeoning their skulls. They’re screaming, trying to defend themselves and trying to pull Victoria away but she’s quick to whack anyone who dares touch her. 

Papá Héctor is on his feet, watching the spectacle with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He feels like he should be the responsible adult and step in to break up the fight before his Viquita gets hurt, but he sees that she has the situation completely under her control. Warmth floods through him.

No one has ever done such a thing for him, at least not since he met Chicharrón, who had protected him with as much spitfire from prejudice from The Remembered. To see such avid determination from his own kin to protect him brings tears to skele-dad’s eyes.

Soon enough, the group manages to break away from Victoria’s wrath, fleeing with her swearing after them that she’ll do it again if they so much as looks at her grandfather the wrong way.

She’s out of breath, trembling with anger, and some of her hair has come loose from her bun. She rights her crooked glasses before tugging her boot back on, sending a final glare at the retreating backs of the group.

A comforting hand falls upon her shoulder. Papá Héctor is beside her, looking at her with utter admiration and pride. He’s still teary eyed as he brushes a strand from his Vico’s forehead, kissing it.

“Mija, that was increíble! Are you okay?” 

Victoria rolls her eyes, letting him be the mother hen now as he checks her over. “I’m fine, abuelito. I can’t say the same for those cabróns, though. I might have actually cracked a skull or two...or five.”

Papá Héctor chuckles, finishing his check-over then pulling her against his chest. He peppers her face with more kisses. “You really are your Mamá Imelda’s granddaughter, mijita. But you didn’t have to go through all of that just for me. You could’ve got hurt.”

“But I didn’t,” Victoria shrugged. “Besides, I couldn’t let them just get away with treating you with such disrespect. They’re blinded by their misplaced loyalty in that pendejo-”

“Language, Victoria.”

“Papá Héctor, you just heard me say “cabróns”.”

“Yes, but pendejo is much worse and you’re my angelita querida cielito, much too young to be using such vulgar language.”

“I’m 45, a little more than twice your age, a grown woman.” Victoria deadpanned.

“Not to me,” Papá Héctor smirked, planting another kiss on his granddaughter’s hairline. “You will always be my baby girl, as will your Mamá. I may have died at 21, but I am technically 118 years old so I’m allowed to baby my children and grandchildren, no matter how old they get!” He hugged her tightly, making her giggle.

“If you insist. As I was saying, those...ratas...are just stuck in their mindset that Ernesto could do no wrong. I’m only glad Miguel didn’t turn out to be like them, such a bright boy he is.”

Papá Héctor hummed nostalgically, remembering his precious chamaco,the wild adventure they shared, and how he was the reason he was standing here, well remembered and reunited with his family. He owed so much to that tiny blessing.

 “And whether you think so or not, Papá Héctor, you are a part of this family. Don’t mention that I told you this, but Mamá Imelda and I have been discussing with the rest of the family. She wants to initiate you as patriarch.”

This snapped him out of his reverie. Papá Héctor gawked at Victoria, eyeballs about ready to pop out of their sockets. “P-patriarch?”

“Sí! This means that Abuelita is beginning to trust you again and believes you are ready to take your rightful place amongst the family!”

Her grandfather looks like he’s about to cry again. With a broad, toothy grin that made his gold tooth flash, he leaps into the air with a joyous grito; his torso, skull, and legs spun individually in his excitement. He landed before grabbing his granddaughter, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug, kissing her face again.

Victoria laughs, hugging him back tightly, though not as tight as he was. “You didn’t hear it from me! But...!” Papá Héctor held her at arm’s length, wincing a bit a the ‘but’, worrying what would come next.

“Even if you’re the patriarch, that doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to protect you, too. Families stick together and protect one another; it is not a trait given to just one individual. So if anyone gives you grief like earlier, you tell any of us-”

“-but I don’t want confrontation, Viquita.”

Victoria gave him an incredulous stare. “You really expect Mamá Imelda to just idly sit by while someone hurts her loved ones?”

“Por supuesto que, no, pero-”

“Then what makes you think she will when you get hurt? There’s no use in trying to hide things from her. Abuelita will find out and she’ll be more than happy to give them more than a couple whacks with her boot! 

Please, Abuelito. You’ve been through so much in life and death. It’s not fair what Ernesto did to you or how you’ve been treated by society because of his actions. You’ve suffered for far too long. Please let us make things up to you and let us take care of you. Let us protect you.”

Papá Héctor wasn’t used to having people do things for him, at least not without a bargain or expecting something in return. However, looking into his granddaughter’s steely eyes told him that he wouldn’t be getting out of this conversation unless he agreed.

Sighing in resignation, he rubbed his forehead. He then nodded, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Alright, querida. You win. You protect me and I protect you.”

“That’s how it works, tonto,” Victoria smirked playfully, lightly punching his arm

Papá Héctor feigned injury with a dramatic “Ouch” before wrapping the same arm around her shoulder, leading her away to resume their errand. He sung merrily the whole time with Victoria pretending to be embarrassed.