Oranges

                                    

                                          
Cherry's POV 
I roll over on the couch, trying yet again to find a comfortable spot that doesn't make me feel sick - probably that day-old donut I ate in the kitchen. Gogo feels me kicking where she's typing up stuff on her laptop and slaps the backs of my legs, and I mock cry out. 
This showcase project of Hiro's is taking what feels like forever, even with all the extra teamwork from the rest of the gang. This morning Tadashi found me on his bed reading a magazine on ecosystems he'd bought for me and asked in his 'sugary' voice to come into he garage. I'd reluctantly agreed and when I got there Hiro was actually drinking coffee, completely tuckered out. He looked positively adorable, if extremely cranky.
He asked me to help him figure out the organic matter possibly needed for his microbots Hiro's making; although I've been writing my dissertation and essay on my experiment most nights so I'm doing my own stuff, I want to help. They're practically my family by now.
Tadashi won't let me go upstairs even though I haven't done anything of note in a while - 'in case Hiro needs you for your only knowledge of organic and Earth Science stuff out of everyone here.' He probably doesn't need me; Tadashi's just trying to make me stop working again after not stopping for a few weeks now, despite him being obsessed with Baymax for months. Honestly, the lovable hypocritical bastard. I love him so much.
After another couple of failed couch positions I give up and fold into a lotus position on the cushion next to Gogo and peer at what she's typing. It seems to be an algorithm she's sharing and editing simultaneously - I look over at Wasabi typing on another laptop and conclude it's him. I look at Honey, who's with Hiro at a desk experimenting with different metals and from what I hear discussing which is best for mass production, seeing as a large sum is needed for the presentation. Then I look at Fred, who's eating a sandwich and asking Wasabi annoyingly over and over if the large man could make another of his cockamamy ideas using each instrument in this garage. I shake my head and smile, and look over at Tadashi. 
He's apart from everyone else in a corner for some reason, fiddling with his hands and biting his lip - a double whammy he does when he's really nervous. Debilitatingly nervous, like when he caught wind of Hiro botfighting against my old rivals. His lips are forming the same word over and over again, and by sheer power of knowing him I know he's saying 'Beyonce' repeatedly. Why though?
I stand up, steadying Gogo as her cushion sinks when my part glides up, and walk over to him.
I place a hand over his. "Dash, are you okay?" I ask, using his pet name to soften him up, and he just stares at me scared and speedwalks away from me to Honey. Without thinking I snort in pride, then go back to the couch and sit down angrily. I don't care if I get angry easily; it's justified.
Gogo peers at me, then at Tadashi hunched over with Hiro talking to Honey about some shit I definitely don't care about anymore. 
"What did he say?"
"Nothing!" I respond, "He just upped and sped away like I was infectious!" I cross my arms and Gogo replies like she always does when she hears about our negative spots in mine and Tadashi's relationship: 
"Told you before, straight relationships have more problems than gay ones," and I take a moment out of my pouting to laugh at her joke - gets me every time - before I try to get into a good position to nap, because I can't do anything else really.
(●-●)
Later on in the evening we all help Hiro put his finished creations in giant wheelie bins and hug goodbye, and set a plan to meet here tomorrow morning for food, discussions, and the showcase. As Hiro goes upstairs to sleep finally, feet nearly tripping over themselves, I flop onto the sitting room couch and gesture to Tadashi curtly:
"Come here - I'm cold and tired."
But he doesn't. He just kind of shuffles then walks over slowly and awkwardly. I sigh in exasperation.