Decisions (Modern Family)

The family had moved out to the backyard, where Claire, Mitchell, Jay, and Gloria were having a conversation while Phil and Cam entertained the kids.

Claire sipped her iced tea, her eyes occasionally darting toward Gloria as if studying her. "So, Gloria," she began, her voice overly casual, "what exactly do you... do?"

Gloria smiled, clearly catching the tone but choosing to remain unfazed. "Well, Claire, I take care of Manny and Vincente, I run my little jewelry business, and occasionally, I keep your father from driving himself crazy."

Jay smirked. "She's not lying. She's basically my personal life coach."

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Dad, I didn't know you were open to coaching of any kind."

Jay shot him a look. "Watch it, Mitchell."

Meanwhile, Gloria chuckled and leaned closer to Claire. "And what about you, Claire? What do you do when you're not... judging?"

Claire's mouth fell open slightly, and Mitchell choked on his drink trying to hold back laughter. Jay let out a hearty chuckle while Gloria maintained her sweet smile.

Phil clapped his hands together, brimming with enthusiasm. "Alright, homies! We are going to play a game of… drumroll please… Tag!" He struck a pose.

Haley rolled her eyes "Tag? Really, Dad? Are we five?"

Alex adjusted her glasses, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, great. A game based on cardio and poor decision-making. Truly, a Dunphy specialty."

Manny looked visibly uncomfortable, "I don't know… running isn't exactly my forte. Or my preference. Or, well… my thing at all."

Meanwhile, Luke fist-pumped into the air, letting out an excited, "YES! I was born for this!"

To which Vincente joined in. "Let's go!" he said enthusiastically. Cam clapped his hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, I love this game! Did you know that back on the farm, I once held the record for the most tags given in a single recess?" He raised his chin proudly.

Phil gasped dramatically. "Cam, we might have ourselves a Tag Legend among us!"

Haley crossed her arms. "How do you even get a record in Tag? Isn't it just… running and poking people?"

Cam wagged a finger. "Oh, sweet summer child. Tag isn't just a game—it's an art form. Strategy, precision, theatrics—" he struck a dramatic pose—"it's basically a one-man Broadway show… if the stage were a cornfield."

Manny sighed. "Great. I'll be the first one out. Someone please remember me as I was: dignified, introspective… and slightly out of breath."

"Manny, what are you saying?" Phil asked, genuine confusion painted across his face. "You and your brother should be great at Tag, considering… well, considering your genetic advantages!"

Manny blinked. "Genetic advantages?"

Phil gestured vaguely at Manny and Vincente. "You know! The whole… Latin passion! Quick reflexes! Dramatic flair! Tag should be your game!"

Vincente raised an eyebrow at Phil. "Mr. Phil, are you saying being Colombian makes us… naturally good at Tag?"

Phil's eyes widened, realizing he was wading into dangerous territory. "No! No, no, no! Not at all! Well… maybe a little. But not in a bad way! More like… in a Fast and Furious family barbecue kind of way!" He gave an awkward thumbs-up.

Cam, mid-stretch, paused and sighed deeply. "Oh, Phil…"

Phil clapped his hands again, "Alright, let's split into teams! Team Fun and Team… Not As Fun But Still Fun. Now, who's ready to run?"

Without waiting for an answer, Phil immediately took off running across the backyard. Luke followed close behind, laughing hysterically, and Cam—determined to maintain his athletic farm-boy legacy—charged after them with a theatrical battle cry.

The rest of the group remained still, unimpressed. Haley stared at her freshly painted nails before sighing dramatically. "Yeah, I'm not running. I have, like, one good hair day a week and it's today." She spun on her heel and strutted off toward a poolside chair, phone already in hand.

Alex, her trusty backpack slung over one shoulder, gave the rest of them a once-over. "I'll be poolside if anyone needs me… which no one will." She followed Haley, pulled out a thick textbook, and settled into a lounge chair with a sigh.

Manny watched Haley walk away, his expression softening into a dreamy smile. "You know… some people chase greatness. Others simply follow it… in wedges." With an awkward step, he shuffled off after her.

Vincente stood there, watching his brother with a mix of amusement and mild secondhand embarrassment. "Every family has that guy," he muttered to himself.

With a resigned shake of his head, Vincente shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled toward the garden path, clearly more interested in exploring than engaging in Phil's chaotic version of sportsmanship.

Back on the lawn, Phil—now out of breath but refusing to admit it—called out, "Come on, everyone! Tag waits for no one!"

Cam, bent over with his hands on his knees, gasped, "Phil… I think… I think I just had a flashback to middle school gym class. And not the good kind."

Luke zipped past them, hands in the air like he was crossing a victory line. "I'm winning! I'm winning!"

Phil clapped proudly. "Yes, Luke! That's the spirit!"

Meanwhile, in the shade of the poolside umbrella, Haley glanced up from her phone to see Manny awkwardly trying to find a seat nearby. She raised an eyebrow. "Manny? Right? Are you… hovering?"

Manny smiled sheepishly. "Oh, no, no. I was just… um… inspecting the seating arrangements. You know, making sure everything is structurally sound."

Vincente, who was just strolling, passed them, "Manny, you're about as subtle as Mom trying to control her anger. Just sit down."

Manny nodded gratefully and plopped into a nearby chair, his blazer already catching bits of grass and poolside lint.

Vincente strolled past the trio, hands still in his pockets, and gave them a small nod. "Enjoying the intense athletic competition, I see."

Haley smirked. "Oh, absolutely. This is the Olympics of Doing Absolutely Nothing."

Alex adjusted her glasses. "And I'm aiming for gold."

There was a brief silence as Haley scrolled through her phone and Alex scribbled something in her notebook, only to pause and let out a frustrated sigh.

Meanwhile, Manny was awkwardly glancing at Haley, his gaze occasionally darting toward her as if debating whether to say something. Haley finally looked up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. "Manny, Why are you here?"

Manny flushed, fidgeting with his shirt. "I'm just… admiring the fine craftsmanship of this chair."

Vincente, who had been watching from the corner of his eye, let out a sigh. "Manny, you're making everyone uncomfortable. Sit down, stop staring, and for the love of all that's holy, try being normal for five minutes."

Haley smirked, glancing at Manny. "Yeah, Manny. It's called personal space. Look it up."

Manny, now thoroughly exasperated, muttered under his breath. "Personal space? I was just being polite."

Alex, tuning out the back-and-forth, suddenly frowned at her textbook. "Ugh, why isn't this making sense? Calculus is supposed to be logical."

Vincente perked up, his curiosity piqued. "Calculus? Let me see." He slid off his chair and crouched beside Alex, peering at the problem. "Chain rule. You're overthinking it—see, you just break this part into smaller derivatives, and it works itself out." And walked away.

It took a moment for Alex to register what just occurred. She stared at her notebook, reworking the problem. "Wait… that's right?"

She looked up to ask him but he was already gone. She turned around to ask the still ogling Manny, "Hey, Manny. How old is your brother?"

"Hey, Manny," Alex called, snapping her fingers to get his attention. "How old is your brother?"

Manny, distracted, glanced at her with a slight frown. "Vincente? He's eight."

Alex's eyes widened in disbelief. "Eight?!"

Haley, without missing a beat, smirked. "Yeah, Alex. Some of us hit our peak early. Unlike you, who's clearly saving all yours for… I don't know, retirement?"

Alex shot her a glare but ignored the jab. She turned back to Manny. "Are you serious? He's eight and just solved a calculus problem I've been staring at for half an hour?"

Manny nodded, a touch of pride sneaking into his tone. "Yep. He's kind of a genius, you know. He's always reading these huge books, and half the time, I don't even understand what he's talking about."

Alex leaned forward, intrigued. "What kind of books? Like math and science?"

Manny shrugged. "Math, science, history… philosophy, sometimes. He quotes people I've never heard of."

Alex shook her head in disbelief. "Unbelievable. I need to know more about this kid. Where did he even learn calculus?"

Manny sighed. "He just… picks stuff up. He reads college textbooks for fun—he's weird like that."

Alex muttered to herself, "Great. Not only am I competing with every overachiever in school, now I've got an eight-year-old prodigy to worry about."

Haley, still scrolling through her phone, added with a smirk, "Better get used to it, Alex. He's younger, smarter, and probably cooler than you too."

"Shut up!"

Meanwhile, Vincente, blissfully unaware of the existential crisis he'd just triggered in Alex, strolled through the garden, humming to himself and examining flowers with childlike wonder.

After a few moments, he stumbled upon Phil, who was bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping and panting for breath. His shirt clung to him in patches, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles.

"Hey, Cam? Right? Claire's husband?" Vincente asked casually, a subtle smirk dancing on his lips.

Phil weakly raised a finger in protest. "Haah… haah… No. No, no, no. I'm Phil… Claire's husband. Phil Dunphy. Definitely not Cam."

Vincente's eyebrows raised slightly, feigning surprise. "Oh! Sorry! I just… I've never heard your name before today."

Phil straightened up, placing his hands on his hips as he tried to regain his dignity—and breath. "Wait, really? Never? Not once?"

Vincente innocently nodded, his head tilting slightly to the side. "Nope. Jay never mentioned you by name. He said 'Cam' once in passing, soooo…" He let the sentence hang, the implication clear.

Phil's face froze in an expression of mild devastation. "But… I've been around for years! Years, Vincente! I'm like… furniture! Very lovable, very dad-like furniture!"

Vincente shrugged, hands casually slipping into his pockets. "I mean, to be fair, furniture doesn't usually introduce itself."

Phil gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Oh, wow. That one hurt."

Vincente patted Phil lightly on the arm. "Don't worry, Mr. Phil. I'll make sure to remember your name from now on."

With that, Vincente turned and continued his stroll through the garden, leaving Phil standing there, bewildered and slightly more out of breath—though now from emotional damage rather than physical exertion.

With that, Vincente turned and continued his stroll through the garden, leaving Phil standing there, bewildered and slightly more out of breath—though now from emotional damage rather than physical exertion.

As he wandered further down the garden path, Vincente's sharp eyes caught a familiar sneaker poking out from behind a bush. He tilted his head curiously and crept closer, stepping lightly over the grass.

"Luke?" he whispered, crouching down and peering behind the bush.

Luke jumped slightly, his finger pressed urgently to his lips. "Shhh! Be cool, Vincente!"

Vincente raised an eyebrow. "Be cool? You're literally hiding in a bush. What are you even doing here?"

Luke pulled him down beside him and whispered dramatically, "Uncle Mitchell and mom are talking over there. And, like, they're using their serious voices. You know… the voices they use when they think us kids aren't listening."

Vincente smirked. "Ah, yes. The 'adult' voices. So mysterious."

Luke's eyes went wide. "Exactly! This could be important! Like… a family secret… or… or a treasure map!"

Vincente shook his head, his face deadpan. "Luke, this isn't National Treasure. You're not Nicolas Cage."

Luke frowned but stayed focused. "Just keep quiet, okay? We're in spy mode."

Vincente sighed, crossing his arms as he crouched next to Luke. "Fine. But if I get caught, I'm saying you dragged me into this."

"Deal," Luke whispered.

Just beyond the bush, Mitchell and Claire stood near the patio, deep in conversation.

Claire crossed her arms tightly, her expression stern. "I'm just saying, Mitchell, Dad moving on so quickly—doesn't that bother you even a little?"

Mitchell sighed, rubbing his temple. "Of course, it bothers me, Claire. But it's Dad. The man schedules oil changes with more emotion than major life events."

Claire threw her hands up. "Exactly! And now he's with Gloria—who, by the way, is gorgeous and charming and… it's just unfair!"

Mitchell smirked. "Wow. Sounds like someone's a little intimidated."

Claire glared at him. "I am not intimidated! I'm just… observant."

Behind the bush, Luke whispered, "Ohhh, this is getting good."

Vincente shot him a look. "Luke, if you gasp one more time, they're going to hear us."

Luke clasped his hands over his mouth, muffling himself as they both leaned forward, eager to hear more.

Claire's voice softened slightly as she hesitated for a brief moment before blurting out, "I'm just going to come out and say it. I think she's a gold digger."

Mitchell's eyes widened, and he let out an incredulous laugh. "Claire! You can't just say that!"

Claire shrugged, her arms still crossed tightly. "Why not? Look at the facts, Mitchell. She's younger, stunning, and Dad isn't exactly… subtle with his wallet."

Mitchell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, first of all, not every younger woman who dates an older man is a gold digger. And second, have you met Gloria? She's—she's warm and funny and… honestly, she's way too nice for Dad."

Claire's eyebrows shot up. "Exactly! Doesn't that raise a red flag for you?"

Mitchell gave her a flat look. "Claire, you're spiraling. Gloria's not a gold digger; she actually seems to like Dad."

Claire groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Ugh, you're supposed to be on my side!"

Mitchell opened his mouth to respond, but both siblings froze as a faint rustling sound came from the nearby bush.

Rustle. Snap.

Claire's eyes narrowed, and she leaned slightly toward the noise. "Did you hear that?"

Mitchell's head tilted in the same direction, his expression cautious. "Yeah… and I don't think it's a squirrel."

Claire squinted at the bush. "Or a bird."

Mitchell nodded. "Definitely not a bird."

From behind the leaves, Luke and Vincente exchanged panicked glances. Luke mouthed, 'Do something!'

Vincente rolled his eyes and mouthed back, 'You do something!'

Claire took a slow step forward. "Alright, whatever you are, you've got five seconds to show yourself before I—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Luke leaped up from the bush, hands in the air. "It's just me! It's just me! Don't attack!"

Claire and Mitchell jumped back, both letting out startled yelps.

"Luke?!" Claire barked, clutching her chest. "What are you doing back there?"

Luke froze, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. "Um… uh… nature observation?"

Mitchell crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Oh, really? And what exactly were you observing, Luke?"

Before Luke could stammer out another excuse, Vincente casually stepped out from behind the bush, hands in his pockets and a perfectly calm expression on his face. "Hi, Mrs. Dunphy. Hi, Mr.Pritchett."

Claire pointed an accusatory finger at both of them. "You two were spying on us!"

Vincente raised an eyebrow. "Spying is such an ugly word. I prefer… eavesdropping."

Luke nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Eavesdropping sounds way less… illegal."

Mitchell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "Oh my God. How much did you two hear?"

Luke grinned nervously. "Uh… enough to know Mom thinks Gloria might be a… uh… coal digger." He winced as the words left his mouth, realizing immediately that wasn't right.

Claire's face turned crimson, her voice sharp. "Okay, that's enough. Both of you—out of the bushes and away from grown-up conversations!"

Luke took off like a rocket, muttering a panicked, "I'm gone! I'm gone!" as he disappeared into the yard.

But Vincente didn't move. Instead, he stepped forward, his hands still casually tucked into his pockets, his face calm and composed as he locked eyes with Claire.

"You know, Mrs. Dunphy," he said, his voice steady and measured, "I don't like my mom being called a gold digger."

Claire's mouth opened and closed as she fumbled for words. "Tha–I'm so sor–"

But Vincente didn't let her finish. His sharp, focused gaze froze her in place. "Don't talk about my mother that way, Mrs. Dunphy."

Claire's eyes widened as she tried to say, "I'm really sorr-"

But Vincente raised a single hand—a small, delicate hand that somehow felt like an unspoken command to stop. And Claire did. She froze.

"Don't talk about my mother that way."

His voice was low, steady, and impossibly sharp for someone so young.

Mitchell, standing off to the side, swallowed hard and glanced at Claire, then back at Vincente, his eyes wide with disbelief.

For a brief moment, all that could be heard was the faint chirping of birds and the distant splash of water from the pool.

The silence felt heavy, hanging in the warm afternoon air, until it was abruptly shattered by Jay's booming voice echoing across the backyard.

"Hey, hey, people! Come on! Let's do what we came for—lunch! Gloria's made some of her amazing dishes!"

The tension snapped like a rubber band. Claire blinked rapidly, breaking free from Vincente's unyielding gaze. Mitchell exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging with relief.

Vincente, however, simply turned his head toward the direction of Jay's voice, his composed expression softening slightly. "Lunch sounds good."

He turned with the same quiet grace, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, and strolled away down the garden path without a backward glance.

Claire let out a shaky breath, her hand pressed against her chest. "What… what just happened?"

Mitchell exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "Claire… I think we just got Godfather-ed by an eight-year-old."

Claire nodded slowly. "We're never bringing this up again."

"Agreed."

From across the yard, Jay's voice called again, "Let's go, people! Before Manny starts monologuing about artisanal cheeses!"

Claire and Mitchell exchanged one last look before wordlessly heading towards the patio, their encounter with Vincente lingering unspoken but very much felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I tried to recreate the Godfather to little extent. Cause why Not.

Tell me if it feels ridiculous.

Thank you for reading!!!