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Most (In)Convenient

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Bruno stares at the contents of his closet. He glances over at the similarly-open drawers of his dresser.

There is not a single hoodie left in either.

He leaves his room and goes into the living/dining/kitchen area, where Kamala is sitting at the dining table, making one of her focused faces, as she patches a hole in his jeans. Her favourite denim jacket, which is also in need of patching, is hanging from the back of the chair next to her.

‘KK?’ She looks up at him. ‘I need at least some of my hoodies back.’

Kamala blinks.

She then makes various faces, sticking her needle into the admittedly-very-cute hedgehog pincushion that she said cost way too much money off Etsy so that she can count off her fingers. She looks down at herself, and at the #DiscoverBMB hoodie he got from the conference in Boston a couple years ago.

Kamala makes a face, mutters oopsies under her breath and goes into her room.

Bruno can only watch as she pulls his hoodies from several random places in her room - including one that somehow wound up under her stuffed sloth on the bed - looking more and more sheepish as the pile on the end of the bed gets larger and larger.

One of his flannels - which he hadn’t even noticed was missing yet - joins the pile, even.

For the record, Bruno doesn’t mind KK ‘stealing’ his hoodies - or his flannels - and not just because he is terrible at saying no to her, it’s…look, she wears them, and…well, if you ask Bruno, his clothes look better on her, okay?

To borrow Kamala’s words - it’s a trope for a reason.

(Aamir and his best friends Umar and Babar, as well as Babar’s brother-in-law Zahid, had decided to, completely unprompted, give Bruno a bunch of marital advice. That had included advice about the inevitable theft of certain types of clothing, as well as a discussion of the complete mystery of how one’s wife always manages to steal all of the covers. This had devolved into them asking him to invent some kind of device to prevent that, or at the very least, determine how it is even possible.)

He doesn’t mind. In fact, he’s probably closer to the complete opposite of not minding.

Clearly, however, Bruno thinks wryly, he is going to have to periodically retrieve his clothes, or they will wind up on semi-permanent loan, tending towards permanent loan.

-

Bruno wakes up suddenly, heart racing, skin clammy with sweat, and sits bolt upright, breathing hard.

Then, he stares, because Kamala is standing in the doorway of his room, swathed in her fluffy robe and with her hair a mess, holding a mug.

‘…sorry, I got up for some water and I heard you scream, so…and when I opened the door…’ She gestures nebulously. Bruno interprets that to mean, you woke up. He wants to say he doesn’t mind, that he’s completely unbothered by the supposed invasion of privacy, and that, in fact, her company seems like the best thing in the world right now, but he can’t seem to work out the words. Kamala makes a little noise in her throat that she probably inherited from her mom. He probably looks a mess. ‘Did you have a nightmare?’

Bruno just nods, and manages to find his voice.

‘…my parents.’

That’s all he manages to say, and it comes out hoarse.

Kamala makes that little sound again, looking like something inside her is breaking, and next thing he knows, she’s put the mug down randomly on his desk and has practically tackled him into a hug.

He holds her back like a lifeline, because he just can’t help it.

He also cries into her shoulder, because he just can’t help that either.

-

Kamala’s crying too; his pyjama shirt starts to feel damp.

-

Apparently, he’s also angry.

Bruno paces across his bedroom floor, having probably descended into ranting.

Look, it’s 3 am, okay?

…and it’s been seventeen years, and he still has nightmares occasionally.

‘…they were my parents…’ That comes out very bitterly, he knows. It feels bitter too. ‘…you know, I’m not actually sure I was an accident.’ Bruno doesn’t talk about his parents, as a general rule. He definitely does not talk about this possibility, this hypothesis he’s had for years now. He’s pretty sure that most people who know about his childhood from before he was seven assume that he was an accident, the child his parents hadn’t meant to have. He’s certain Mr and Mrs Khan are in that category. ‘They weren’t that young when I was born, and they weren’t completely stupid.’ He swallows. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Kamala stares at him, looking even more like something inside her is breaking. Looking heartbroken for him and horrified for him and about to cry again. Somehow, despite the fact that she’s messy-haired and in her big fuzzy robe with sloth-patterned pink pyjama pants peeking out underneath, despite the fact that Kamala is Kamala Khan (thus inherently adorable), that just makes him even more angry. Kamala married him to fix his parents’ mess. She sacrificed so much for his sake, to fix his parents’ mess, to fix the wrong they inflicted. Bruno makes himself take a deep breath, and an exceedingly wry, dark-humoured thought goes across his brain. Luckily, he’s not Dr Barney Brummer, or he’d be extremely green and some things would be extremely smashed right now. He takes another deep breath, stopping in his pacing, and staring at the point over Kamala’s left shoulder, because eye contact is just a little too difficult right now. ‘Sometimes…I wonder if they meant to have me…’ If they’d wanted to have him. ‘…but when I was born, or while my mother was pregnant, they changed their minds, possibly because…’

…because he ruined everything. That is, because he ruined everything.

-

‘Sometimes…I wonder if they meant to have me, but when I was born, or while my mother was pregnant, they changed their minds, possibly because…’

Kamala absolutely refuses to let her husband believe that his parents were abusive because of anything to do with him, because that is wrong, on so many levels.

She jumps up from the sofa bed, crossing her arms.

‘Bruno, nothing that they did to you was ‘cos you weren’t what they wanted or you weren’t good enough or something!’

It was because his parents were awful abusive assholes who made terrible choices and kept making ‘em, including neglecting, starving and - she thinks, because Bruno refuses to talk about it even with her - throwing things at their very young son on a regular basis, then decided they were gonna literally abandon him with nothing in their apartment in Jersey City while they moved somewhere else.

(Kamala once overheard her parents talking, a few years ago, when she decided to pursue a career in children’s therapy. They’d clearly gotten onto the topic while wondering if her choice of career path was influenced by what happened to Bruno when he was a kid and how Auntie Sidra from the Masjid - who is now her professional mentor - had helped after her parents had arranged discounted therapy for him that his nonna could afford.)

(Abbu had said that he wondered, if Bruno weren’t so clever, he might not have had to endure for as long as he did, because if he weren’t so clever, he wouldn’t have been able to look after himself - and thus cover for his parents - so well, and someone would have noticed and done something.)

(Ammi had said in reply, that if Bruno weren’t so clever, maybe he wouldn’t have survived long enough to be rescued, especially after his parents left.)

He looks at her, swallows.

‘I know, it’s…but…I mean-‘

Kamala refuses to let him finish that sentence, so just glomps him again.

-

Bruno is very rarely angry, Kamala thinks. He’s kind and patient and considerate.

But he’s really angry now, and it’s so bitter, she can taste it.

She wants to make it all better (she wants to make it all better so badly), and she knows what to do professionally (sorta, anyway), but it’s not the same when it’s your own BFF and your own husband, really.

She gets Bruno to sit back down on the sofa bed with her, presses herself into his side and seizes one of his arms and refuses to let go.

He leans against her, and keeps talking.

They keep talking, as far as she can remember…

-

Bruno’s alarm wakes him in the morning.

His bed feels very strange.

He blinks, fully waking up, and realises that that is because Kamala is in it.

More accurately, she fell asleep in his bed, and also half-draped across his stomach.

He has absolutely no recollection of how this occurred, because last he remembers, they were talking about what - if any - revenge plot tips to take from Baazigar, and sitting mostly upright against the back of the sofa bed. Admittedly, they’d definitely been cuddled together, but…

Kamala makes a grumbly, grumpy noise, muttering something about being too comfy to wake up.

He can pinpoint the moment when she becomes awake enough to realize what he’s just realized, because she tenses up a little and opens her eyes, sitting up, blinking and wiggling away a little.

‘Hi.’

‘Hey.’

-

Okay, so apparently, the trope of The Awkward Morning After has nothing to do with the actual activities done before?

Good to know…right?

-

Outside the mosque, after Friday prayer, Nakia says goodbye to Mrs Saleh after discussing the woman’s concerns about a potential case of shoe theft.

She glances over to her left, where her besties are caught up in conversation with Uncle Rashid’s youngest daughter Tasneem and her fiancé Moussa.

Kamala has a dupatta hanging around her neck. Bruno is holding a second one for her, freshly retrieved from Lost Property; Kamala put it down in a shoe cubby while putting her shoes back on and then completely forgot about it.

She can’t believe they lied to her.

She can’t believe that their marriage is one of convenience, is just because Bruno needs a green card.

She can’t believe it, and she can’t believe it.

The fact that her best friends are actually, legitimately, nauseatingly-in-love besotted newlyweds does take some of the sting out of their deception.

Bruno glances at Kamala, who is distracted talking wedding lehengas with Tas…

…then Kamala glances at Bruno, who has been interrupted by one of the Dar brothers asking for his opinion on brands of electric drill…

…both of them looking every inch idiotically besotted with each other in that way that Nakia has gotten very used to over the years…

 …Nakia screams internally and facepalms internally. Yet again.

How can they be so obvious and yet so oblivious?

How have her besties not managed to work it out yet?

-

Kamala shivers as she gets up from the couch for their customary goodnight hug - and kiss to the top of her head, which is totally the best part! - and burrows extra-close to Bruno (he runs warmer than her, okay?) because it is way too cold.

It’s a particularly cold night, and ‘cos Murphy’s Law and all, the heating’s broken down. Gone completely kaput, 100% out of service, 0/10 heat provided, etc.

Bruno says, unfortunately, that he can’t do anything about it until morning at the earliest, because he needs parts that they don’t have.

Kamala’s gonna sleep in her thickest pyjamas, and her fluffiest socks, and her fuzzy robe, and she’s gonna need a couple of the spare blankets/throws from the couch, and she’s definitely burritoing super-tight tonight; it’s only gonna get colder ‘cos Laws of Thermodynamics…

-

(Hey, Kamala’s BFF since she was seven is a SCIENCE!!! genius, okay?)

(And SCIENCE!!! is one of Bruno’s special interests; he talks about it real often, and ‘cos she’s his best friend, she tries to listen and pay attention - honestly, she doesn’t know how she’d have gotten through Mr Singh’s super-boring science classes in Sophomore year without all the stuff she picked up from Bruno; he’s a way better science teacher, way less boring, even if he sometimes gets a little too advanced and jargon-y, he always does way better the second time around in those cases, after being reminded not everyone’s a super-SCIENCE!!! genius!)

(Anyway - point is, some of it was bound to rub off, right?)

-

Lying in his bed, in his warmest flannel pyjamas, his robe and warm socks, underneath an extra blanket and one of the throws from the couch as well as his usual bedcovers, Bruno is almost fully asleep when he’s woken by a knock on the door.

‘Bruno? Umm…I can’t sleep, it’s too cold.’

He sits up, and tells Kamala to come in. She opens the door, and he blinks.

KK is assumedly dressed in her warmest pyjamas, given the circumstances, but he honestly can’t tell. She’s swathed in her fluffy robe, and is wearing her fuzzy slippers and thick socks on her feet. He can just make out his hoodie under the robe, and she’s even sporting her favourite winter hat, which she’s had since they were fourteen (though it is now artfully patched).

‘You are really cold.’ He supposes that that makes sense; the Khans’ house is better heated than their apartment, even when the heating is not broken and it is not unusually cold weather, and Kamala’s always felt the cold far more than he does. Kamala looks down at herself and the thought fair, dude clearly goes across her mind, but she gives him a look and sticks her tongue out at him for good measure. Bruno can’t help but laugh, and KK looks at him more. ‘What?’

She crosses her arms, mostly mock-grumpy, and he smiles.

(Kamala is adorably ridiculous and ridiculously adorable.)

Bruno gets out of bed, puts on his own slippers, and wraps his arms around her, holding her close. Kamala burrows into him and makes a happy little noise that he studiously refuses to think about.

‘Okay, Bruno, I’m kidnapping you.’

And with that, Kamala drags him in the direction of her room, somewhat clumsily, as she has apparently decided she doesn’t want to actually let go of him in any significant way, shape or form.

-

A thought occurs to Bruno several minutes later, curled up around Kamala under the blankets in her bed.

She’d insisted…before blinking, a flash of self-admonishment crossing her face, and saying that he didn’t actually have to if it makes him uncomfy. He’s not sure what she intended to say after that, because he’d cut her off at that point.  

Bruno was terrible at saying no to Kamala, his best friend, when they were just little kids. That situation did not change when they got older and he realized his love for her had grown up too.

He’s been generally warned by most of the married men he knows - from Mr Khan to Aamir, Babar, Zahid and Umar, to old Mr Torres, one of the Circle-Q regulars - that most men are pretty bad at saying no to their wives and that one’s wife is generally rather persuasive, and not even in the way (or through the means) you might assume.

Clearly, Bruno is absolutely not an exception to this generalization. He has a lot of empirical evidence for the fact.

…besides, look, it’s not as if he minds (at all), okay?

However, Bruno thinks wryly, he can’t help but ask…

‘Hey, did you marry me for my body heat, KK?’

She refuses to move to poke him, seemingly on principle (admittedly, he concedes she can’t be blamed, as he has no desire to move either), but Kamala nudges him in the shin with a foot, which feels much the same.

‘Can I be blamed, Bruno? You’re warm and snuggly and give great hugs! And it is cold! Like Antarctic cold, and I don’t need to know that that’s not true thermometer-wise, tell that to my nose, dude!’

Kamala is adorably ridiculous and ridiculously adorable.

He grins into her hair…

…and then has to remove some from his mouth.

It manages to get everywhere while still attached to her head too, apparently.

-

In the morning, it is less awkward this time, somehow.

Maybe, Bruno thinks, it is because it’s the second time around.

Or, maybe, it’s because this time…it was, well, a little more deliberate. An intimacy that they very much intentionally decided to share (mitigating circumstances around the cold notwithstanding), not something that happened largely accidentally (not that either of them seem to have minded).

Bruno could, however, do without the (very strong) urge to kiss her when Kamala smiles at him, soft and sweet and slow and like a sunrise, as she says good morning, making very little effort to move away.

-

You’d think he’d be used to that urge by now, and thus have gotten it under control.

Empirically, he hasn’t.

-

They are married, she’s his wife, but Kamala is his best friend, and it’s not like that, Bruno reminds himself yet again…

…even if they’ve decided to…well, share a couple more intimacies and elements of married life than they’d probably initially intended when they got married.

It was probably inevitable. It might, frankly, be the healthier option, given that they are married (till death do they part). It is probably a good idea to get, well, used to this, and comfortable with this, since they do plan to have children eventually, which does require…that.

They’re best friends, and in a lot of ways, they’ve always been more than best friends, maybe this isn’t strange?

Ergo, Bruno tells himself firmly, this is in no way, shape or form any indication that Kamala might just feel the same way about him. It is not a sign that she might just love him - be in love with him - too, and ergo, it should not be fuelling this apparently-irrepressible, apparently-endless hope.

-

Unfortunately, it is getting more and more difficult to make his brain believe that.

It’s getting more and more difficult to not hope, which is really saying something.

Bruno knows they’re trying to convince everyone, including Immigration. He knows that in almost every way, their marriage is real.

But there’s an element of pretend to it, he reminds himself.

It’s just getting harder and harder to remember that, because the moments where it seems like there’s no pretending at all, where it seems perfectly real (and thus perfect, even when it’s not), are becoming more and more frequent…

…and it’s trending towards becoming constant.

-

‘Night, Bruno.’

She says that into Bruno’s shoulder, and smiles a little wider when she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head, like always.

(Okay, yeah, yeah, it’s a relatively new-ish thing, given how long they’ve known each other, but it feels like always!)

‘Good night, KK.’

She lets go, more than a little reluctantly, to find him smiling at her, and she feels herself smile even wider in reply, and…

…then just stare at each other for this moment that’s like magic, ‘cos it just stretches on and on, and it’s like it’s just the two of them in the world.

Kamala wonders if this is gonna, like, break Bruno’s brain, ‘cos she’s pretty sure this ain’t consistent with the laws of physics.

They’re really close together, part of her brain notes, faces just inches apart, and…

-

…that moment is unreasonably long (not that he objects, at all), and the world becomes inexplicably small, and it violates everything Bruno knows about the laws of physics.

And then, Kamala leans a little closer, leans up a little, and presses a kiss to his cheek, near the corner of his mouth.

He’s completely frozen for a beat. His brain may or may not be buffering.

But Kamala’s not frozen. Instead, she flushes, putting a hand over her mouth…

…like she regrets it instantly. She mutters something under her breath he doesn’t quite manage to catch, for once, and all but runs to her room.

Ouch, Bruno thinks, ouch.

-

Oh God, oh no, oh no…

…maybe she got possessed by an evil djinn? Or has she way over-consumed romance fanfics and broken her brain?

-

Kamala almost slams the door of her room shut, and flops onto her bed, automatically grabbing her stuffed sloth and hugging it tight.

Oh God, what has she done?

Astaghfirullah…

She almost…she almost kissed her husband, which, yeah, normally not exactly something to freak out about, but her and Bruno’s marriage might be mostly real but it ain’t exactly normal, obviously…

ARGH!!!!

Kamala just…forgot, okay?

For that moment - like for so many moments, honestly, like, almost all the time now - she just completely forgot that it ain’t real-real, not like that.

Maybe she and Bruno are way too good at this drama/acting/very-intense-LARPing thing…

…or maybe that whole theory about overconsuming romance fanfics in her formative years, like, holds water, and now she’s paying for it ‘cos it’s bleeding into her IRL life?

Her imagination has always been, like, powerful, and Kamala knows that she gets too lost in it sometimes, but she’s generally thought it’s a feature, not a bug, overall

…which maybe she owes partially to Bruno and his basically-lifelong friendship, and how he’s always thought it was definitely a feature, even when he’s making dry quips about her Plans.

(Or maybe ‘cos he makes dry quips about her Plans, looking at her in that particular way?)

You’re Kamala Khan, the imaginary Bruno in her head says, and her imagination’s really running away here, ‘cos it sounds like I love you.

Okay, that is so not a helpful train of thought…

ARGH!!!!

-

A rather small, but very loud (both in colour and in volume) hurricane practically tackles Nakia at the spot where they’ve met up for lunch, while she’s on her lunch break, and while said hurricane has a break between patients.

‘Help me, Naks, you’re my only hope!’ Kamala lets go of her, and Nakia gets a proper look at her bestie, who looks young and small. ‘I’m in love with Bruno, um, long story short…I have been for a while now, a long while, and I thought it’d be fine, ‘cos, you know, we’re BFFs, but…’ Kamala shakes her head. ‘…I don’t think I can keep it inside any longer!’

-

A series of texts exchanged by Bruno Carrelli and Nakia Bahadir, after the former sent the latter an extremely panicked message:

Nakia: Bruno, I say this because you’re practically my little brother - JUST. TELL. HER.

Bruno: It won’t make things weird?

Nakia: YOU ARE MARRIED

You two already made it weird

[A silence of several minutes, during which Nakia rightly assumes that Bruno is thinking very hard, and not about making insulin cheap, which is his current work assignment.]

Bruno: I’ll tell her after the interview

-

At her desk in a tiny cubicle at Jennifer Walters and Associates, Nakia resists the undignified urge to press her forehead against her desk, and instead screams internally, several times. Yet again.

Her besties are idiots. They’re her idiots and she loves KK and Bruno so much, but…

…THEY ARE IDIOTS.

She stares at Bruno’s last message, his implicit promise to tell Kamala in two days, after their all-important Immigration interview.

She sighs.

It’s the best she can hope for, Nakia knows.

Inshallah, everything goes well for her besties at Immigration…

…and they work things out.

-

Sitting in the waiting room of the Immigration office, Kamala turns to her best friend, to see him glancing over at her too, looking as nervous as she feels. More nervous, actually, somehow, despite the fact that she feels like a whole herd-flock-colony of butterflies has taken over her insides.

Bruno swallows. She reaches out and takes his hand, squeezes gently. He shifts his hand so that he’s holding hers too, and squeezes back.

She takes a deep breath, as Bruno does too, eyes falling on the bag holding the photo albums they’ve brought along. They’ve also got digital photos on a USB stick, and files with all their texts and other messages (there’s a section for putting that evidence in on the online forms, but the sizes of their files had been too large, they’d had to spend ages and ages on hold to be told what to do about that…).

Kamala takes a deep breath, and hopes-wishes-prays that Bruno will get his green card, that everything will be alright.

-

(She needs…)

-

(Inshallah.)

-

The Immigration officer asks a lot of questions.

-

‘…Kamala and I were fifteen, and it was an otherwise completely ordinary day; we got gyros after school, and sat on the Circle-Q roof to eat them, and had a long and very involved discussion about Marvel Comics and then…she smiled at me, and…I just realized…’

-

‘…so, it was after my first semester of college, which wasn’t Bruno’s first semester of college, ‘cos he’s a super-genius and all…sorry, that isn’t relevant! Anyways, my school let out first, so I went to the bus station to meet him, obviously, and…Bruno, did I hug you or did you hug me first? Yeah, fair, it was a long time ago, and that’s not really important either...anyway, just…you know, home felt completely like home again, and that night, it just hit me…’

-

‘…but we took ages to work things out.’

‘We got there! And then my dad nearly, like, collapsed or exploded from happiness…’

-

The Immigration officer barely looks at their giant stack of photos, carefully extracted from many, many, many photo albums at her parents’ house.

He also skims through their texts, only reading the first few pages at all. Kamala supposes it ain’t exactly fair to expect him to read all of them, there’s a lot.

They just get a nod, and a very official stamp…

…as well as a smile that seems very genuine.

‘Congratulations, you two. I’m glad you worked things out eventually.’

-

Kamala lets out a breath that she was holding.

-

Bruno feels a wave of so much relief.

He has absolutely no idea who hugged whom first, but he supposes that, as Kamala pointed out earlier, it doesn’t actually matter.

KK presses her cheek against his chest and shoulder, and he tucks his head over her shoulder, both of them clutching each other very tightly in sheer and utter relief.

-

As she and Bruno return to their apartment, celebratory gyros in hand, the promise that she made Nakia the other day sits heavy in Kamala’s stomach.

Inshallah, Naks is right…

She takes off her blazer, putting it down without really thinking about it, and on autopilot, starts unpacking their celebratory meal as Bruno grabs plates.

-

Bismillah…

‘Um, there’s something I gotta talk to you about.’

-

After taking off his suit jacket - formalwear that requires dry-cleaning does not mix with gyros - and as Kamala unpacks their food, Bruno grabs plates from the kitchen for their gyros completely on autopilot, the promise he made Nakia, implicitly, running through his mind, as he mentally rehearses what he’s going to say and how he’s going to say it.

-

Bismillah…

‘We, uh, need to talk.’

-

‘Um, there’s something I gotta talk to you about.’

‘We, uh, need to talk.’

They both say that to each other at the exact same time.

Kamala blinks. Bruno blinks back at her.

She gestures nebulously at him.

‘…you first?’

Bruno takes a deep breath, raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, gets halfway there and realises what he’s doing, and lowers his hand again.

‘I…I didn’t lie to the Immigration officer. At all. I told him the truth.’ He swallows. ‘When we were fifteen, we were eating gyros on the roof after school, and I really did realize that I loved you. That I was in love with you, Kamala…’

-

‘When we were fifteen, we were eating gyros on the roof after school, and I really did realize that I loved you. That I was in love with you, Kamala…’  Bruno takes a deep breath. ‘…and that hasn’t changed. I love you, Kamala. I’m still in love with you. Actually, more accurately, I think I’m even more in love with you now, somehow, and…’

He trails off, words deserting him suddenly.

There, it’s out.

He’s said it.

Kamala stares at him, gapes at him for a beat, and Bruno’s brain has a single millisecond to scream at him in a voice that sounds far too much like his parents that he’s ruined everything, before Kamala opens her mouth and words just burst out of her.

‘Oh my God, we are idiots, and we’re literally living the trope!’ She shakes her head at herself, then looks up at him, laughs a little, grinning, bright and vibrant and full of joy and beautiful. ‘I told the Immigration guy the truth too, ‘cos I love you too, I’m in love with you too, Bruno! And it’s definitely a case of way more in love…’

-

Okay, so she never really finishes that sentence, ‘cos either Bruno kisses her or she kisses him, it’s kinda unclear and neither of ‘em are paying enough attention to that to notice, since they leaned in in synch, and honestly, it does not matter, like, at all.

It’s a bit awkward and shy (still even better than in the fanfics!), but practice clearly makes perfect, ‘cos the second one and the third one are even better…

…hey, they’re married!

-

Twenty minutes earlier…

-

Muneeba shakes her head, smiling, as Ruby texts her, asking if there will be a happy announcement soon, because Kamala and Bruno were getting gyros and told Najaf they were celebrating!

She is just typing out a reply to her friend when her phone rings. It is Zara. Muneeba shakes her head again, this time smiling with more exasperation. Zara’s eyesight is going, she much prefers to call instead of text, which she supposes is very fair, she has to set the text on her phone to be so big to be able to read it properly, but she does like to call all the time

Zara asks her if she knows, if she knew.

Muneeba asks her what is it that she should know.

Zara then proceeds to tell her all about how Weam’s son is interning at the Immigration office, and he saw the strangest thing today…

…and then, Muneeba has to sit down on the couch. Very heavily.

-

‘Yusuf!’

-

‘…Kamala, Bruno, beta-‘

‘-we heard this rumour-‘

‘-please tell us it isn’t true-‘

On their couch, Kamala freezes, and so does her husband, as their front door is opened using the key that her parents have solely for emergencies, and in burst Ammi and Abbu, followed closely by Aamir.

They turn their heads to stare at her family. Her parents and Aamir stare back for one second, and everyone falls into horrified-embarrassed-my-kingdom-for-some-brain-bleach silence.

…yeah, Getting Caught Making Out by Your Family is a very un-fun trope.

The incredibly awkward silence, during which Kamala wishes that the floor would open up underneath her and swallow her, Bruno and their couch, and Bruno definitely does too, is broken by Abbu.

‘See, Muneeba, I told you it wasn’t fake!’

‘Yusuf!’

Aamir, meanwhile, groans, having covered his face with his hands.

Okay, okay, Kamala’s calling it already, this is gonna be a Khan Family We-Don’t-Talk-About-(This-Incident-Involving)-Bruno situation…

…and she’s not denying that it ain’t super-embarrassing and generally very-not-fun to get caught making out on the couch by your parents and big brother

…but they’re perfectly decent! All their hands are visible too!

Yeah, sure, Bruno’s suit jacket is hanging over the back of the armchair - neatly! - and her blazer is over the arm of the couch - less neatly… - but they ditched the jackets in preparation for gyros, because dry-cleaning is expensive and gyros are delicious but can be messy ‘cos Najaf is real generous with the sauce…

…and okay, fine, Bruno’s dress shirt is untucked, but…well, there are lots of perfectly innocent explanations for that, like Bruno wanting to be comfy in his own home!

They’re perfectly decent (they’re in the living room!), and she’s pretty sure that as far as making out goes, this is on the real innocent end of the spectrum…

…but that does not apparently help the awkwardness or embarrassment.

Kamala’s kinda worried her husband is gonna actually turn into a tomato, and she’s feeling really red too…

-

He and Kamala tell her family the truth, with all the apologies required.

Astaghfirullah.

Mr and Mrs Khan and Aamir listen, disbelief and anger and hurt going across their faces.

‘…we’re so sorry, Ammi, Abbu, Aamir.’

I’m so sorry…’

After a long, long silence as the Khans digest all of the information, digest the truth, it’s Bruno’s father-in-law who breaks the silence once more.

‘It is not fake anymore, though, is it, beta?’

Despite the situation, Bruno can’t help but smile a little and glance at Kamala, who does the same, squeezing his hand.

‘No.’ He pauses. ‘It was never really fake…’

‘…just in the sense that I didn’t think he loved me like that and vice versa! In every other way, it was always real…’

‘…and it was always going to be.’

In hindsight…there was no way he and Kamala were ever going to manage to do anything else, to be married in any other way.

The Khans just stare at them for a moment longer, before, finally, Mr Khan grins. It’s rather wry, but happy. Proud. Paternal.

‘All is well that ends well, mashallah…’ The last of that tension snaps. Mrs K swats playfully at her husband, but she’s smiling, while Aamir pulls out his phone to text Tyesha, muttering under his breath about how he’s even gonna begin to explain this. Mr Khan looks at the two of them, then at Kamala specifically, rubbing his chin teasingly. ‘…but perhaps you watched too many movies and read too many stories growing up, beta…’

-

A few months, some savings, and a trip to the Jersey Shore later…

-

‘Okay, gotta concede, second honeymoon just beats out first…Bruno?’

‘I am trying to decide if I’m mildly insulted, completely confused or rather touched…hey, we spent our first honeymoon in our apartment, eating gyros, having a lightsabre duel in every room and staying up late playing Smash Bros, Kamala.

Exactly, see, dude?’ A pause. ‘You’ve totally settled on touched, haven’t you?’

‘…yeah.’

‘We are pretty awesome! Like I always said, get yourself someone who gets you!’ Another pause. ‘I love you, Bruno.’

‘I love you too, KK.’

Notes:

AN: And that’s all I wrote! Hope you enjoyed this ridiculousness!

Next week’s fanfic updates:

Wednesday: new oneshot fic - As You Wish.

Bruno Carrelli has always been terrible at saying no to Kamala Khan.

It’s one of life’s universal constants, to him.

Thus, when Kamala sees an Instagram post about a championship pumpkin converted into a canoe…

…Kamala and Bruno wind up driving a pumpkin down the Hudson.

Look, he’ll take this over another Black Sloth Down.

Saturday: new fic for the Guides universe - The Carrelli-Khan Guide to Babysitting.

Nakia and Miguel, Zoe and Kaia, Kamran and Mahnoor and Kareem and Inaya take turns babysitting Aziz Carrelli-Khan.

This proves to be a very interesting and very educational experience.