Hiro Hamada stared up at his bedroom ceiling, absently fiddling with a Rubix cube. Mochi, his morbidly obese pet cat, slept on his chest, purring softly. Baymax was powered down on his charging station in the corner.

"C'mon dude… get here."

His room was clean for once. He had taken a shower and brushed his teeth. Twice. When asked about his sudden interest in hygiene, he'd told his Aunt Cass it was for no reason in particular.

She didn't really need to know the details.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"I GOT IT!" Hiro shrieked at the top of his lungs as he bolted upright, scaring the absolute shit out of Mochi in the process. He burst through his bedroom door, thundering down the stairs two at a time.

"Lemme in!" came a pained voice beyond the front door. "Lemmeinlemmein lemmein!"

As fast as he could, Hiro worked the locks peppering the wall, twisting one, throwing another, undoing the deadbolt. No sooner had the brass chain been set free, the door burst open like an unsealed hatch on a submarine, letting in a brown and white blur.

"Ay dios mio it's cold out there!"

Hiro chuckled as Miguel rested his back against the door, panting, shivering with cold. He was still in his soccer uniform from practice. His bare knees knocked together, his hands working over his naked shoulders as his teeth clattered.

"Why didn't you bring a jacket?"

"It wasn't cold when I left the house," Miguel wailed.

Hiro grinned. "We're in Frisco, pendejo! It gets cold hella fast."

"Why?! It's California! It's not supposed to be cold in California!"

"San Francisco isn't California," Hiro corrected. "Ask anyone from L.A."

Just as Miguel was about to protest, Aunt Cass' voice rang out from the kitchen. "Who was at the door, sweetie?"

"Miguel, Aunt Cass!"

"Buenos tardes Señorita!"

"Oh hi Miguel!"

"Can't stay and talk, Aunt Cass," Hiro called out, gathering up Miguel's slender wrist and tugging him up the stairs. "We've got a lot of homework. Be down for dinner!"

"Homework on a Friday?" But the boys were already most of the way up the stairs. Hiro jerked his friend into his bedroom, shutting the door with a woosh of air, locking it behind him.

"Dude… what is it with your family and putting locks on all the doors? It's like Fort Knox in here."

Once the deadbolt was securely hilted and his desk chair was wedged up tight beneath the knob, Hiro spun around to face his friend. A smile scrawled its way across his face.

"Hi."

"Hi," chuckled Miguel, giving Hiro that adorable one-dimpled grin of his. Hiro always forgot how pretty Miguel's eyes were. "You really that excited over little ol' me?"

Hiro shrugged, resting against the doorframe, trying to look nonchalant. "N-no. Just… y'know. Haven't seen you in a few days."

"Uh-huh."

Miguel padded over to Hiro's desk, sloughing off his backpack. Undoing the zipper, he produced a plastic grocery bag, which he unceremoniously tossed onto Hiro's nice clean bed. "Munchies."

"What did you bring?"

"Tamales and conchas. And a blunt."

Hiro's eyes went wide. "You did not!"

Miguel was struggling to suppress his giggles. "We can crack a window!"

"MIGUEL!"

"Okay okay!" His friend held up his hands in surrender. "Tomorrow then. Can I stay over?"

Hiro sent out a puff of air, trying to blow his bangs out of his eyes. "What do you think?"

Miguel grinned. "Bueno. Well… now that you got me…" He peeled off his soccer jersey, exposing his usual plain wife-beater underneath. "…what do you wanna do?"

A faint pink hue bloomed over Hiro's cheeks. "I dunno. We could… play video games."

"Uh-huh." Discarding his jersey against a wall, Miguel took a casual step in Hiro's direction.

"Or… we could… watch a movie."

"Oh sure." Another step. Then another.

"Or you could… y'know… you were gonna teach me… how to… play guitar…"

Miguel's smugly grinning face was now only a few inches away from his. Hiro's cheeks went from pink to bright red.

"You really think I rode my bike a mile and a half in this arctic tundra weather… just to whoop your scrawny butt in Mario Kart?"

Miguel's breath plumed warm against Hiro's lips. Slowly his long, skinny arms reached out, banding around Hiro's waist. He was being pulled in, nestled against the boy's chest.

"You smell nice," Miguel purred into his ear, making Hiro shiver.

Hiro went to swallow but his throat was like sandpaper. Miguel's voice was always so soft and reassuring. It made him feel safe. Less scared by what they were doing.

"We don't have to do this," Hiro whispered. But even as he said it, his fingers were snaking beneath the boy's muscle shirt, sliding a hand delicately up the gentle curve of his spine.

"Ohh, I think we do, mi amigo. Both of us."

"Okay, but…we can stop. If you need to. No judgements."

"Shut up."

Miguel's long, tan fingers rose to the collar of Hiro's shirt. Gently they popped the top button, then the one below, then the one below that. Until at last the final button fell free. Hiro's chest was exposed - soft and milky white beyond the loose folds.

"We'll go slow," Miguel purred, the heat of his words dancing over Hiro's lips. "I promise."

Hiro was suddenly aware that he had never wanted anything this badly in his whole life. He nodded into his friend's chest, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

Closing his eyes, Hiro managed to swallow for the first time in ages. His fingertips splayed out, sliding delicately up his friend's spine. His side. His chest. All the while, he was on the verge of a heart attack.

"Look at me."

Hiro shook his head.

" Hiro. "

Hiro shook his head again. But his chin was cradled. His face was tilted up. A kiss was stolen from his lips.

Melting, Hiro kissed back. Wet, sloppy and uncoordinated, but still, he was there. He hadn't pushed Miguel off, hadn't run away like last time.

As if sensing the boy's thoughts, Miguel's long, spindly arms pinned him against the wall. Hiro could feel Miguel's heartbeat through his shirt. His head swam with purple flecks of light as his arms encircled Miguel's neck, pulling him down. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod.

Suddenly Miguel's arms were no longer around his waist. The kiss was being broken. Hiro felt a wave of fear and defeat. Were they stopping? Was that it? Did he do something wrong? But once he realized Miguel was just peeling off his muscle shirt, it was like every birthday, Halloween and Christmas rolled into one.

They had never gone this far. The hem of his shirt was over Miguel's head. Hiro watched his muscles appear - thin lines etched onto warm brown skin. Mischievous eyes. That one-dimpled smile. They were kissing again. Their chests were touching. Oh my god, Hiro's brain screamed. Is this what this feels like?! Why haven't we done this before? Why aren't we doing this every hour of every day?!

Miguel cradled Hiro's cheeks in his hand. The top ones. Not the bottom ones. Hiro would have fainted. After a while they had to come up for breath, both panting, both winded like they'd been running marathons.

Their foreheads brushed together. Miguel looked down at him, worried. Then a long smile parted his perfect, flushed lips.

"Dude… you are, like, beet red right now!"

Hiro's eyes went wide. He dug his thumbs sharply into his friend's ribcage, causing the boy to recoil with laughter. Planting his feet, Hiro threw his meager weight at him, attacking him with all the speed and intensity of a well-trained prairie dog, wrestling him to the ground.

"N-no! Stop, puta!"

But Hiro would have naught of sympathy. His secret boyfriend thrashed and squealed as Hiro tickled the absolute shit out of him. His fingers raced over his midsection, his ribs, under his armpits, thoroughly exploring a body which he now had partial claim to. Finally, once he was sure Miguel's face was every bit as red as his was, Miguel managed to grab Hiro's wrists, holding his tickling fingers aloft, rendering them inert.

Hiro panted. Miguel panted. Hiro looked down at his friend. His friend looked up at him.

God this felt good. All of it. Every bit of it.

Hiro allowed him to hold his wrists as they fought for breath. Miguel's large brown eyes caught in the triangle pane of light from the bedroom window, sparkling like glass. His calloused hands slipped into Hiro's palms like water. Their fingers dovetailed.

"You know you're mine now, right?" Miguel asked breathlessly, catching Hiro off guard. "You're mine. And I'm going to keep you, and kiss you, and take care of you, and never give you away. Because you, Hiro Hamada, are mine."

Hiro's face went slack. He could feel his cheeks heating up. His vision misted over.

"Uh-oh," Miguel grinned, playfully rocking his hips up. "Someone's getting some feels."

The last thing Hiro remembered about that first night was diving on him, attacking his mouth, trying to wipe that goofy smile from Miguel's lips with his own.