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The red pen glides over the paper. A mark goes over problem eight; another scribbles through question ten. Tadashi groans audibly at the sight, tapping the utensil against the counter at random intervals as he stares down at the ruined test. He sighs as he writes the failing grade in the top corner, circling it once, twice, three times for added effect. He then places it on top of the pile of failed papers that are taking over the space to his left.
The papers with a passing mark are on the right; those with a failing grade are on the left. The stack on his right is thin and orderly, while the pile on his left is a hodgepodge of eraser burns and red ink. Advanced Robotics is a difficult course, but Tadashi's beginning to think that his students just don't try, with the way they prattle on and on and get caught on simple concepts that should have been taught during their introductory courses.
Either that or he's just an awful teacher.
He lets out another groan at the thought, running his hands down his face to wipe away the exhaustion as he balances the kitchen stool on its back two legs precariously. His back pops pleasantly when he moves, his joints stiff from hunching forward for the past couple of hours.
"Is that a hernia or are you just that unhappy to see me?"
Tadashi blinks, smiling lazily as he looks away from the midterms in front of him. Hiro's standing by the threshold that separates the kitchen from the living room, his backpack hanging off his shoulder. His hair is the same black bird's nest it always is, but his face is a little flushed, like he ran all the way here from the campus a couple blocks away. A quick glance at the clock assures Tadashi that he did— it's only been twenty minutes since he got out of classes for the day.
"Hey, you," he greets, stretching his neck and righting his stool. "I didn't hear you come in."
Hiro shrugs, letting his bag drop to the floor unceremoniously. He kicks it against the wall just barely out of the walkway. "I used my key. Figured you might be busy."
"I'm never too busy for you," Tadashi chuckles, idly propping his head up with his hand, his elbow firmly planted against the countertop. And Hiro does that thing he started doing a year or so ago, where his face turns bright red and he looks at the nearest inanimate object with a scowl. This time, it's the half empty coffeepot by the sink.
Tadashi isn't entirely sure what causes this particular reaction, as it always seems quite random to him, but he's grown used to it. Besides, he likes this side of Hiro— the sweet, embarrassed side that reminds him of the twelve year old that would shyly ask him to pick him up from school.
"Sap," Hiro says plainly, eyes still focused on the coffeepot. His cheeks are just beginning to regain their normal, tannish color.
"Ah, you wound me," Tadashi holds his hand to his heart in mock hurt. He receives a glance and a derisive little snort for his efforts. He counts it as a win, though he's not entirely sure what he's competing for. "What are you doing here anyway? It's Tuesday. I figured you'd go straight to the labs once you got out of class."
Hiro makes a face at him, scrunching up his nose. He shuffles his feet against the linoleum floor before shrugging his shoulders with a little shake of his head. "I wanted lunch," he eventually says.
Tadashi barks out a laugh because this happens fairly often and he already knows where this conversation's headed. But that's fine. He doesn't really mind. "No. You wanted me to take you to lunch."
A slightly sheepish, gap-toothed smile more than confirms his suspicions. "Well, since you're offering, I'm not gonna say no. That would be rude."
"Terribly," he laughs, shuffling the ungraded midterms in front of him until they form a neat stack. "Your stomach is going to have to wait a few minutes, though. I want to finish these before we go anywhere."
Hiro sighs, and Tadashi can feel the countertop dip where the boy leans against it. It's old and he's been meaning to replace it for months now. "How long is that going to take?"
"Longer with you distracting me." He laughs under his breath at the huff he receives in return, his eyes going back to the stack of paper he's been working his way through for most of the morning. He doesn't have to look to know that Hiro is pouting, scowling at him with those big brown eyes of his narrowed. Tadashi's seen the expression before and he's more than memorized it.
Hurriedly, because Hiro isn't in the least bit patient and it's likely all his fault for indulging him when he was little, Tadashi brings the red pen back to the tests and begins checking each question. There are only ten— which is short for a midterm, but he doesn't believe his students would have benefited from more questions— and it doesn't take him long to move on to the next, his red pen scratching marks here and there and writing out a barely passing grade at the top. He stops at the next paper in the stack, eyes rising slightly from where he's hunched when he sees the name almost illegibly scrawled across the front.
Hiro Takachiho, the paper says. The owner of the name doesn't seem to notice that his work is being graded, his scrawny frame still leaning against the countertop, his eyes watching the clock. Tadashi can just barely hear his foot tapping against the floor.
Well, then. If Hiro doesn't care, than neither does he.
Tadashi goes back to the paper, lips quirking a bit as he scans it with his pen. The problems are answered flawlessly, which he doesn't find in the least bit surprising. Quietly, he writes the perfect mark across the top, looping the zeros to look like smiley faces. He grins at the sight, glancing upwards to make sure Hiro still isn't looking. He isn't.
Carefully, he moves to place it in the correct pile, stopping when he sees a small arrow at the bottom of the page prompting him to turn it over. He takes a moment to cautiously look up again, and then flips it over upon finding that Hiro has moved away from the counter and is currently raiding his fridge for something to drink with his back to him.
He stares intently at the comic strip that takes up the entire back of the page, eyes scanning the small speech bubbles. And then he laughs, long and hard. Hiro, it seems, drew him a series of pictures wherein his graduate project, Baymax, diagnosed him as a nerd.
It was apparently quite fatal.
"Something funny," Hiro asks, turning away from the fridge with a can of soda clutched in his hand.
Tadashi holds up the comic in explanation, titling his head slightly to the side. "I am the least nerdy, I'll have you know."
Hiro scoffs like he's choking. "Grading papers makes you laugh. And you wear cardigans. I hate to break it to you, Professor, but you're a total nerd."
"Oh," he questions with a little lilt at the end, "I ride a bike— a motorbike. That's not nerdy."
"No, GoGo rides a bike. You ride a moped," Hiro corrects, setting his soda to the side so he can lean over the counter conspiratorially. "Which is just sad, by the way. You're twenty-seven."
"You like my moped," Tadashi responds defensively, setting the comic to the side and crossing his arms over his chest. It's not his fault that the insurance is cheaper. "And my cardigans," he adds as an afterthought. "You used to play dress up in them. Face it, you like me."
Hiro blushes again, his ears turning a rather endearing shade of red as he lowers his forehead to the counter. "You're unbelievable," he mumbles into the laminate.
Tadashi reaches out to ruffle his hair, frowning lightly when that seems to make Hiro's ears turn an even darker shade of red. He doesn't understand that reaction. His frown deepens when Hiro shrinks further into the counter. "I'm sorry," he says, completely unsure of what he's apologizing for.
Hiro glances up through his bangs, his big brown eyes slightly narrowed. And Tadashi is vaguely reminded of the time that four year old Hiro told him that dragons weren't real. "Completely impossible," he elaborates. "A one hundred percent unbelievable human being."
Tadashi just blinks at him, extracting his fingers from his hair. He opens his mouth to say something, but his jaw closes with a snap of its own accord when he finds that he doesn't have anything to say. He knows Hiro. He prides himself on knowing Hiro— the way he solves problems, the way he reacts to different situations, the various facial expressions he makes— but lately, there have been all of these little things that he just doesn't understand.
At first, Tadashi had just thought it was puberty that was making Hiro act so weirdly. And to some extent, it had to be. He could easily blame Hiro's mood swings on the different hormones involved in the transition into adulthood, like the way he would fluctuate from elated one minute to absolutely furious the next. But it was harder to explain away some of the other things, like the way that Hiro's face would turn bright red at the strangest times or the way he would just blurt things out that didn't make any sense to him. It was all becoming terribly confusing.
And sometimes, he wishes that Hiro had never started growing up. But one look at his scrawny frame and almond-shaped eyes always has him changing his mind.
Hiro pushes away from the counter and lets out a long, drawn out sigh. "Can we just—," he makes a frustrated sort of noise, resting his hand under his bangs to lift up the fringe, "Can we just go get lunch? Please?"
"Ooh, lunch sounds amazing."
Tadashi watches Hiro's head turn before he does the same. Honey Lemon stands in the doorway, dressed impeccably in her signature yellow dress and plain white stockings. Her hands are carefully patting at her honey blonde hair with one of his spare towels. Tadashi smiles at the sight, "You slept for a while."
She responds with a lilting sort of laugh, "I was up late."
Hiro glances back and forth between the two of them, blinking before a frown pulls at his lips. "You slept here," he says, staring at Honey with eyes that are not quite narrowed. Something in his tone sounds accusatory and Tadashi's not sure he likes it.
"Yes, she did," he answers pointedly, crossing his arms in what he hopes is a reprimand. That was rude and while he lets Hiro get away with a lot of things, being impolite to people is not something he tolerates, especially when his rudeness is directed towards one of his friends. "I invited her to."
Hiro pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bows his head, his fingers knotting together. "Oh," he mumbles to the floor. Tadashi raises an eyebrow at him, trying to figure out why he seems so upset.
Honey clears her throat from the doorway, "Tadashi's just being nice. He offered me his spare room while my apartment complex is being fumigated." She steps farther into the room and squeezes Hiro's shoulder. Tadashi isn't sure why, but it seems vaguely reassuring.
"The spare room," Hiro reiterates, shuffling the toe of his trainers along the floor. He doesn't look up.
Tadashi nearly asks him what's wrong, but Honey drops the towel from her hands and makes her way farther into the kitchen. "Of course. Now, how about I make us all lunch," she offers, reaching into his freezer.
"Okay. Thanks," Hiro shrugs his shoulders before grabbing his bag from the threshold and disappearing into the living room. He doesn't look at him as he passes by and Tadashi can just barely hear the television turn on a few moments later.
"That was mean, Tadashi," Honey drops a bag of frozen chicken on the counter, careful to avoid the piles of paper that are still littering his space. Her voice is as sweet as it always is, but her lips are set in a thin line, that ever-present smile gone.
He blinks at her, "What was?"
She lets out a short sigh, and frowns at him. He didn't think she could make that expression. "Hiro has a crush," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, leaning against the counter on her elbows.
"What," Tadashi blanches, glancing toward the living room and then back at her so quickly that his neck pops. "On who? You?"
"Oh, Tadashi. You're hopeless. It's not me," she pinches the bridge of her nose, looking at him with those sincere green eyes of hers that are just barely muted by her magenta-rimmed glasses. "Hiro has a crush on you."
He blinks and his breath catches in his throat, "That's not— Why would he— oh." Oh, oh, oh.
Oh, no.