This is written for the TyHil Love Countdown over on tumblr. Yes, I have crawled out of my hole for this. There will be 5 sections, updated every Tuesday in November. They're able to stand on their own so don't squint too hard to interpret a plot. Each season is basically my interpretation of a certain point in their relationship.

Summary: Much like the seasons, relationships change as time goes on.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade.

Spring

"Knock knock."

Hilary had been so focused on her computer screen in the dimly lit room that she jumped at the booming voice. Her eyes darted to the ajar door of her office just as Tyson poked his head around the corner.

"Nu-uh, this is a Tyson-free zone," she reprimanded before he could cross the threshold. Frankly, she was too exhausted to deal with him right now.

Tyson scoffed. "And here I am bearing gifts."

Hilary was skeptical. "I'm sure."

Tyson took a dramatic step further into the doorway, careful not to cross the cursed threshold. His body was illuminated by the fluorescent lights blinding the hallway this late night. True to his words, both his hands held onto familiar packaging.

"One large iced caramel macchiato with one and a half pumps of vanilla and sweet cream cold foam," he recited raising the cup in his right hand. "And a really boring bowl of oatmeal."

Hilary leaned back in her office chair impressed he somehow knew her go-to order. She remained suspicious though as he raised the bowl in his left hand and dangled it for emphasis.

"So Supreme Coachstress, can I come in?"

"That's not a word."

"Come on, I don't want your gross mush to get cold."

Hilary conceded, waving him in before reaching for her desk lamp. The room soon basked in a soft yellow glow that was far less harsh than her computer screen. Tyson entered the room, placing the order gently in front of her. He then took a seat in one of the two chairs positioned in front of her desk.

"Do you know what time it is?" Tyson asked. To Hilary it sounded like he was being careful to not admonish her over the fact.

Hilary laced her fingers together, perching her chin on top of them with her arms propped on the desk. She glanced at the small clock on her desktop. "2:14." She apparently hadn't checked in a few hours, but that explained her growing exhaustion and stinging eyes.

"Actually, I probably shouldn't have got you a large cup of diabetes with a side of caffeine."

Hilary narrowed her eyes. "Is there something I can help you with?" She reached for the caffeine first, needing its sweet embrace.

Tyson stretched out in the chair. "I haven't heard from you in hours so had a feeling you never left." He nodded to her phone on the desk.

"It died a while ago. No charger." Hilary was apologetic. Last thing she wanted to do was make anyone worry.

Tyson shrugged knowing she hadn't willingly ignored him all night. "What are you working on?" He propped his hands on top of his head as he continued to try and get comfortable.

Hilary sighed. "Trying to come up with a reasonable response to the backlash of press the BBA has faced since the rebuild. Or at least some ideas to re-frame the narrative. Show where the sport is now and where it is going."

Tyson pulled a face. "You're not making gruesome training drills for me and Daichi?"

"I have enough ideas for that. I don't need to stay up past 2 AM."

Tyson watched as Hilary finally took a long sip of her drink. She wasn't sure how to read his expression. "You know... that's not your responsibility."

She nodded in acknowledgement, her attention shared between the sweet taste of her drink and the growing concern on Tyson's face.

"Like, leave that to Mr. Dickenson or Judy or... someone else who is paid to care about that stuff." His hands dropped from his head and his arms fell to their respective armrests.

"I don't need to be paid to care," Hilary retorted. The usual edge in her voice that lined her defensiveness was gone. "There's been a lot of unwarranted hate in the press directed towards the BBA lately. I can tolerate that to a degree... but when it starts to shift to you guys...," she paused, shrugging her shoulders in defeat, "I want to take care of you guys."

Tyson sat up abruptly in his seat, starting at her with a serious intensity.

"Okay. But who is taking care of you?"

The silence between them was deafening. She shifted under his unrelenting stare, hands dropping from her cup to her lap. Hilary played with her fingers waiting for Tyson to continue because she had no idea how to respond.

Eventually he did.

"You just don't need to do this." He emphasized his thoughts with a gesture to the room. "You're brilliant, and I'm sure you could come up with a thousand ideas, but let the adults be adults for once."

His expression softened as he spoke and put Hilary at ease. She wrapped her arms around herself, tilting her head she took in his appearance.

"Wow."

"What?"

"You're so nice after 2 AM," Hilary teased. She held up her phone. "Can you say that all again, just want to record the conversation."

"Ha ha." Tyson snorted, leaning back again in his chair. "Too bad your phone is dead."

"My luck." Hilary discarded the phone beside her. Remembering the oatmeal she grabbed the bowl and felt the warmth in her hands.

"Seriously though," Tyson said earnestly, "unless you get some amazing promotion to PR Ringmaster, no more 20 hour days. We... I need you to be just Supreme Coachstress."

"That's still not a word." Hilary shook her head, a smile forming on her lips. Tyson couldn't help but smile back. "But we have a deal if you bring me more macchiatos."